I looked around, embaressed. Bella hung her head and stepped away. I tried to tell her to come back. But she turned. And ran. Right out the door and down the sidewalk, her black boots creating thundering steps in the darkness. Pony ran out and called her name. She didn't answer. I knew where she was probably heading, but I knew that Pony was probably already heading there. I couldn't move, my feet were stuck to the floor.
But then they seemed to come loose, and I ran as fast as I could. She would be killed where she was going.
One thing I knew was, we were never going home.
We were greasers now.
Bella knew the same thing I did. I had seen her face before she ran. I knew her better than anybody.
Henry killed my brother.
