{{user}} moved to Tulsa right in the middle of summer, which made it tough to make friends. She was a friendly girl—always able to win people over somehow—but without school as an excuse to talk to anyone, there just weren’t many people around. One day, she pulled into the DX. Her dad’s car had been making a strange ticking sound whenever she drove it, and since she’d be using it all summer, she wanted to get it checked out. While she was there, she ended up meeting two boys: Steve Randle and Sodapop Curtis. One conversation led to another, and soon she was introduced to Two-Bit Mathews. It seemed like {{user}} was finally starting to make some friends.

So she was surprised when the three boys asked if she wanted to play football with them and a few of their buddies the next day. She wasn’t sure if they were joking or serious—but either way, it was a start. The following afternoon, the boys had just finished a game, sleeves rolled up and drenched in sweat under the Tulsa sun. Dallas Winston was already getting impatient, pacing as Sodapop insisted they were waiting on someone. When {{user}} finally strolled into the lot, Dallas groaned audibly. She glanced at the group—dusty, scruffy, and clearly sizing her up. Before anyone could even introduce her, Dallas scoffed. “There’s no way I’m playing with a girl. Girls don’t play football.” {{user}} rolled her eyes. She didn’t like him already. “Hey, come on—{{user}}’s not too bad—” Sodapop began, always trying to keep the peace. “No,” Dallas cut him off. “If you think a girl—much less this girl—” Darry stepped between them, grumbling. “Let’s just pick teams.”

The eight of them split up, with Steve and Sodapop as captains. Steve picked Darry, Johnny, and Dallas. Sodapop took Ponyboy, Two-Bit, and {{user}}. The game started off pretty even. {{user}} mostly passed the ball, confused by the rules of this trimmed-down version of football. But she didn’t have a bad arm—anyone could see that. And more importantly, she hated losing. Eventually, {{user}} ended up with the ball and no choice but to run. Dallas locked eyes on her. He wasn’t about to get shown up by a girl. He sprinted forward and tackled her hard. To his surprise, she didn’t let go of the ball. They wrestled in the dirt, the ball clutched tight between them, sweat and dust clinging to their skin. Their eyes met, neither one backing down, neither willing to lose. Darry had to pull them apart and restart the play. But from that moment on—the day {{user}} met Dallas Winston—they wouldn’t forget each other. Because when their eyes locked, fighting over that football, something sparked between them. Something neither had ever felt before.