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

Epilogue

Note to Readers:  This is the last chapter of this book!  Hope you liked it, and please comment and vote.  And what do you think of a sequel to this one, when Tara's in reform school?  Let me know in the comments!

Tuesday night I couldn't sleep. Maybe I was anxious about going to juvie hall, or reform school, or hell, or whatever you want to call it, but my brain wouldn't shut up and let me go to sleep. Thoughts kept running through my head from when I had first run away from home, less than a year ago.

I remember I hadn't been too eager about going running to Dally for help when I couldn't handle my dad beating me up, but I hadn't really seen another option. It's not like I had had any friends in New York I could go stay with, and living on the street full-time didn't seem too appealing, either. So I had only one choice, and though it may have been the least desirable at the time, that's what I did. I hitchhiked my way there, and it took three and a half days.

I didn't really worry too much about, like, getting kidnapped or raped or something. I was barely fourteen and probably looked like a lost little kid, so people gladly gave me rides.

I had a bit of fun making up stories along the way, too. My parents had left me in whichever state we were currently in on accident on a family vacation and I needed a ride to the nearest city to call them, I had been kicked out of the house and had nowhere else to go, my family mysteriously disappeared so I was trying to find my closest relative, and occasionally I even pulled the truth out. I twisted it around though, saying that I had run away but then realized what a stupid idea it was and I was trying to get back home. I cracked myself up at how ridiculous that sounded coming from me, but it worked.

I also tried not to spend any of my money along the way either, but I did use some for food and every once in a while offered a measly five dollars to whatever good Samaritan had come along to give me a ride, to pay for gas is what I said. Most of the time they turned me down though, which I wasn't going to complain about.

When the latest semi-truck driver dropped me off right across the Kansas-Oklahoma border, I opted to take the bus the rest of the way, just cause it was always harder to hitchhike if you had a specific destination, which I did now. And I might as well spend some of my money. I only had to transfer buses once before I arrived in Tulsa.

I found the nearest pay phone and put in a dime, fishing out the letter from my pocket—that I had hung around in New York for a week for before officially leaving. Dally had, wisely, remembered to put down a phone number for me to call once I got to Tulsa. I couldn't really go to the address scrawled on the envelope, it was a P.O. box number.

The phone rang three times before someone picked up. A rough voice that sounded like a much older Dally answered, "Hello?"

"Hey. It's me. I'm at the bus station—" I glanced around for a street sign, "across the street from the drugstore that's on the corner of Pickett and Sutton," I told him.

Now I knew it was Dally as he replied, "Okay, be there in ten minutes, in, uh, a red T-bird," and then the phone clicked off and the dial tone was ringing.

For some reason I felt like I had just arranged a clandestine meeting instead of physically talking to my brother for the first time in six years.

I casually leaned against the brick wall of the bus station behind me and glanced around at the town, wondering how long it'd take me to get used to this place, and if I'd stay. Soon enough, or too soon, a red T-bird, like Dally had said, pulled up to the curb across the street, by the drugstore.

I scrutinized my brother as I crossed the street, barely noticing the car that had to screech to a stop to avoid hitting me in the intersection. He had grown up, obviously, but his hair was still the white-blond it had always been, though almost longer than mine, curling around his ears and the nape of his neck. He had the same piercing ice blue eyes, but his angled features had sharpened even more, he looked a bit tougher, though he had always been tough. And for some reason, I actually was surprised that he didn't look like the complete stranger he was.

I decided to not bring up the fact that he had left me with a now deceased druggie mother and an alcoholic, abusive dad, though.

I thought I saw a hint of a smile on his lips as I tossed my bag into the back and asked sarcastically, "Can I catch a ride, hood?" with a smirk, feeling like I was just hitchhiking to a different place. But this time I knew I wouldn't get far, cause I was going to be staying for a long while.

I sighed, staring up at the ceiling of my bedroom in my house, the house I shared with Dally now. I wondered if the ceiling of a jail cell in juvie would look the same, peeling paint and water stains in the corner like this one. It didn't matter I guess, but I couldn't help but think how different everything would be since I knew I wouldn't try to get out of this one.