A Girl in New York (Pre/Sequel to The Outsiders: A Girl in the Gang)

Chapter 19- "Come On", A Clone, and A Car Crash

I woke up late and sore the next morning, because a concrete floor is by no means what I would call comfortable, but at least I had less time to waste being bored, seeing as how it was almost noon. I packed up my stuff, which consisted of, well, my motorcycle, and left the warehouse, going to another gas station to get supplies for my lovely road trip.

A map, some food, and a refill on gas later, I made my way through Fort Smith, not decided yet on if I was going to go north to Ozark or south to Greenwood. I slowed as I neared an intersection on the edge of town, but then I accelerated because the car to my left had the stop sign. The right of way was mine, but he must have thought the same thing, because the car just kept barreling towards me, and we slammed on the brakes at the same time, leaving the front fender of my bike inches from the front bumper of the car.

Through my sunglasses, I thought the guy driving looked familiar, but I ignored it, blaming it on the glaring noonday sunlight beating down on us. He got out, slamming the door and marching over me, and I flipped down the kickstand of my motorcycle and climbed off on the right side, confronting him.

"What the hell did you think you were doing roaring through the intersection like that?" he shouted at me, his lean muscular body above me by a few inches, glaring at me through his own sunglasses.

"I had the right of way! See that big red octagon back there," I shouted, jabbing a finger in the direction of the cross-road he had come barreling down, "with the letters S-T-O-P on it? That means you're supposed to stop! Unless of course you're illiterate and colorblind," I shot back at him, mad.

"Oh yeah?" he sneered, raising his clenched fists at his sides, and I mimicked the action, ready to fight him even if it was in the middle of an intersection.

It's not like we were holding anyone up, it was completely deserted except for an old rusty pick-up truck that had stopped behind the car, and the four guys that were in it, along with the two that had been riding in the car with the guy challenging me to a fight, were getting out and coming nearer to watch us. I ignored them, waiting for the one in front of me to throw the first punch.

He swung at my head, and I easily ducked it, but his fist just grazed my sunglasses, only enough to knock them off my face. I ignored it and straightened, milliseconds away from swinging at him, when he whipped his own sunglasses off, scrutinizing me before a look of shock morphed onto his face. I actually heard gasps from the other six guys watching, and then, unblinded by anger, sunlight, and sunglasses, I really looked at them.

It was the gang, and I had been about to take a swing at my big brother. Well, it wouldn't have been the first time it happened, and I was too filled with shock to realize that they had found me and was no longer missing and on the run.

I just stared, and they stared back.

"Tara? What the hell did you do to your hair?" Dally exclaimed.

I quickly recuperated from my initial surprise, and responded nonchalantly with a smirk, "I just felt like taking on the identity of my brother for a while."

"It worked pretty damn well," Two-Bit stated the obvious, coming closer to get a better look at me. "But I suppose I would still get smacked if I made any dumb blond jokes about you two twins," he added with one of his usual cocky grins.

"Yes," Dally and I snapped simultaneously, and Johnny's mouth literally dropped open.

Sodapop's face lit up when he figured out it was really me, Darry looked relieved and slightly amused, Steve had a mischievous smirk plastered on his face, and Ponyboy had a dumbstruck appearance like the best thing in the world that he could only dream of had just happened.

"You look like Dallas Winston's clone," Soda exclaimed, and Dally reached out and tugged on a lock of my messy, now-blond hair, probably testing if it was a wig or not. His face was a perplexed mask of disappointment, amusement, anger and confusion.

"Trust me, I don't want to," I replied truthfully.

"You know, you look pretty good blond," Steve mused, and Pony and I both shot him a glare, but for different reasons, of course.

Most likely not being able to stand it anymore, Pony ran up to me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, mumbling, "I was so worried about you," into my ear. Normally it would have been my hair, but since that was now short-well, shorter-and blond, he couldn't do that.

I stiffened for a second before giving in and hugging him back, but then quickly let go. I was about to tell my boyfriend that he had nothing to worry about, cause he had hugged me like he never wanted to let me go again, but instead what came out of my mouth was, "Don't you dare, Steve."

In my peripheral vision I had spotted Steve, Soda, and Two-Bit checking out my motorcycle, and Steve had been about to take it for a joyride.

Dally was glancing at everyone else ogling my bike, and Johnny was hanging back and watching curiously, and I couldn't help but remember the whole reason I was out here in the first place when I saw the dirty white cast on his arm.

Darry glanced from the bike to me and asked, "Do I even want to know where you got that?" in a parental tone.

"I only killed one guy. Oh, and got a cop shot, but I'm not sure if he's dead or not," I said, nonchalantly sarcastic.

Johnny gave me a look that meant what I said wasn't funny to him, and I muttered a, "Sorry," that only he could hear before teasing him, "So how do you like my haircut?"

Johnny smiled slightly, and Dally looked at me and commanded, "You are not keeping that bike."

Well that wasn't what I expected him to get mad about after all this, but I'd take that over a severe scolding any day. But I still was not going to give up my bike.

"Aw, come on," Two-Bit whined, because he was still acting like the motorbike would be his any second.

"Yeah, let her keep it. Just so long as I get to ride it," Steve bargained with a mischievous grin aimed at me.

"No. I am keeping the bike, and no one gets to ride it unless I say they do," I stated decisively.

"Either way, we're taking it with us. We have to get back, I don't want to have to miss another day of work," Darry decided before heading back over to his truck pulled over to the curb right before the intersection that we were still in the middle of.

Everyone moved towards the vehicles, but I stayed where I was.

Pony turned back to me and insisted, "Come on."

But the thing is, for some reason I all the sudden didn't want to go back to Tulsa with the gang. And it wasn't just the fact that I had angry fuzz, a court trial, and most likely reform school waiting for me.