[COMPLETE] Gone With The Wind~ A Ponyboy x Johnny fanfic

~Chapter 1~

Most of this chapter is from the original book, I did not write most of this. The story starts close to the beginning of chapter five.

Then I heard a whistle, long and low, ending in a sudden high note. I knew that whistle well enough. It was used by us and the Shepard gang for "Who's there?" I returned it carefully, then darted out the door so fast that I fell off the steps and sprawled flat under Johnny's nose. I propped myself on my elbows and grinned up at him. He was so cute, his dark eyes were the color of the night sky. "Hey, Johnny. Fancy meetin' you here." He looked down at me over a big package. I think I saw him blush a little.

"I swear, Ponyboy, you're gettin' to act more like Two-Bit every day."

I tried unsuccessfully to cock an eyebrow, damnit he was cute. "Who's acting?" I rolled over and sprang up, happy too see him. "What'd you get?"

"Come on inside. Dally told us to stay inside." We went in. Johnny dusted off a table with his jacket and started taking things out of the sack and lining them up neatly. "A week's supply of baloney, two loaves of bread, a box of matches..." Johnny went on. I got tired of watching him do it all, and I got distracted watching his bangs bob up and down.

"Wheee!" I sat down on a dusty chair and stared. "A paperback copy of Gone with the Wind! How'd you know I always wanted one?"

Johnny reddened, blushing. "I remembered you sayin' something about it once. And me and you went to see that movie, 'member? I thought you could maybe read it out loud and help kill time or something."

Of cource I remember the movie! It was the moast nerve-wracking, most exiting time of my life. I put the book down reluctantly. I wanted to start it right then. "Peroxide? A deck of cards..." Suddenly I realized something. "Johnny, you ain't thinking of..." Johnny sat down and pulled out his knife.

"We're gonna cut our hair, and you're gonna bleach yours." He looked at the ground carefully. "They'll have our descriptions in the paper. We can't fit 'em."

"Oh, no!" My hand flew to my hair. "No, Johnny, not my hair!" It was my pride. It was long and silky, just like Soda's, only a little redder. Our hair was tuff--- we didn't have to use much grease on it. Our hair labeled us greasers, too--- it was our trademark.

The one thing we were proud of. Maybe we couldn't have Corvairs or madras shirts, but we could have hair.

"We'd have to anyway if we got caught. You know the first thing the judge does is make you get a haircut"

"I don't see why," I said sourly. "Dally could just as easily mug somebody with short hair."

"I don't know either--- it's just a way of trying to break us. They can't really do anything to guys like Curly Shepard or Tim; they've had about everything done to them. And they can't take anything away from them because they don't have anything in the first place. So they cut their hair." I looked at Johnny imploringly. Johnny sighed. "I'm gonna cut mine too, and wash the grease out, but I can't bleach it. I'm too dark-skinned to look okay blond. Oh, come on, Ponyboy," he pleaded. "It'll grow back."

"Okay," I said, wide-eyed. "Get it over with."

Johnny flipped out the razor-edge of his switch, took hold of my hair. The feel of his hand on my skin felt good, I shuddered. A memory of us in the lot came to me. It was just us too, under the stars. I remember glancing at him then quickly glancing away, afraid of him seeing me looking at him.

"Not too short," I begged. "Johnny, please..."

Finally it was over with. My hair looked funny, scattered over the floor in tufts. "It's lighter than I thought it was," I said, examining it. "Can I see what I look like now?"