in 1967 sylvia is in her second year at rogers high school. she's never been especially popular due to her mother moving them from place to place every time her latest relationship blew up.
sylvia eventually befriends ponyboy curtis and his family a...
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november, 1965
slyvia roe warily walked through the door of the curtis household, lead by the youngest.
she had been partnered with ponyboy curtis for an english research project.
it's not that she was scared of the curtis'. she wasn't a greaser or a soc, sort of in-between, not that she cared about those sorts of things. as long as you were kind to her, she was cool.
she was scared because she was meeting new people, and she had always had trouble with that. you'd think after living in about 3 different states you'd get used to change.
"ponyboy?" a deep voice called out. "that you?" the brunet scoffed, kicking the front door shut behind the girl. "yeah, it's me! who else?"
"for your information young man, it could quite literally be anyone. this house is practically a goddamn hotel." the voice responded. sylvia heard a tap turn on and off before she was greeted with a tall, muscular man with icy cold eyes.
"who's this?" he asked. "slyvia roe, we're workin' on a project together." sylvia mustered up a smile and held up her hand, moving her books to under her left arm. "well, it's nice to meet you. i'm darry, pony's big brother."
"nice to meet you too darry." sylvia felt her hands go clammy, another perk of being socially awkward. she had heard about the curtis family a month after moving to tusla. their parents had recently died, she felt just awful for them.
"so, you a brainiac too? ya must be if you're in pony's class." he asked, strolling into the kitchen. the girl saw ponyboy go bright red and he slouched into the sofa.
"well, not a brainiac but i'm decent at spelling." she laughed lightly, shifting on her spot. "well, so long as you can spell your name. i'll let you two get on with it then."
sylvia and ponyboy pulled out the wooden chairs and sat at the table, their library books and pens thudding down. "so, what topic should we do?" the girl asked him, grabbing the sheet from their teacher, Mr Syme.
"there's shakespeare, leo tolstoy, charles dickins or 'another notable author of your own choosing'." ponyboy read from the sheet. "someone of our 'own choosing'. someone that isn't a dead white guy." the girl suggested.
"is tolstoy dead?" he asked. "he died fifty years ago... but I think we should do harriet beecher stowe or jane austen!"
"who's harriet beecher?" his eyebrows furrowed, trying to recognise the name. "she was an abolitionist and i'm fairly sure she was a suffragette. she wrote 'uncle tom's cabin'." the girl raved, becoming more excited with every word she spoke, she adored telling people about her interests.
