Dallas Winston Has A Sister? (Outsiders Fanfic)

A Dead Brother, a Bear, and a Seagull

        "Hey, look who's back from the dead," Steve remarked with a  smirk.

        "Shut up, Steve," Dally groaned as he sat up and looked at all of us sitting around his hospital room.  "This is like a funeral.  What happened?" he asked groggily.

        "You got mauled by a bear and your head cracked open by a seagull who thought it was a nut," I replied matter-of-factly, but it was a lie.  There weren't even any seagulls around here.  He had actually gotten in a knife fight with a Soc and inadvertently busted his head open when he hit it on something.

        "Ha. Ha.  Now what really happened," Dally demanded without a hint of humor or actual questioning in his tone as he reached up to feel the bandage on his head.  The impassive look on his face immediately turned to one of shock and anger as he shouted, "What did these hospital freaks do to my hair?!"

        "Keep him away from a mirror, he'll break it," Pony said, trying to stifle a laugh.

        We all thought it was pretty funny that Dally now had a crew cut.  Like a Soc's, instead of his usual long wild white-blond locks.  Not to mention he sounded like a girl freaking out about hair.

        "This is not funny!" Dally yelled, jumping out of the hospital bed and crossing the room to look in the small mirror hanging over the sink that the doctor's used.  "Goddammit," he swore, "Why the hell did they cut my hair?" he shouted again.

        Johnny was the only one who wasn't in hysterics and laughing so hard they couldn't breathe, much less talk, so e answered, "They had to put stitches in your head cause you busted it open on something."

        But he had a smile on his face, too, cause Dally getting mad about something that ninety-five percent of the population had and could easily grow back was highly amusing.

        Dal swore again, glaring at all of us before he marched back over to to the hospital bed he had been in before and sat down heavily on the edge of it.  He snatched up one of the pillows and chucked it across the room at the wall and then flopped back against the other ones with a huff.

        When I had finally stopped laughing and caught my breath, I asked my brother with a smirk, "So how are you liking your new haircut?"

        "I hate you all," my brother stated and then threw his arm over his face.

        But I thought I caught a hint of a smile on his lips when Soda said, "We could've kept your hair and made a wig out of it, but when the doctors asked, Tara said that her or your girlfriend didn't want it."