Darry Curtis had always been the responsible one, the guy who had to grow up too fast, but when it came to his baby sister, responsibility turned into something deeper—something more protective, more stubborn, more unshakable. She was a year younger than Ponyboy, still just a teen, but to Darry, she’d always be the little kid he had to look after, the one person he couldn’t afford to fail.

She was tough—had to be, growing up with him as a brother. She had the same Curtis fire, the same stubborn streak that made her impossible to argue with. But no matter how independent she thought she was, Darry still caught himself watching over her like a hawk. If she stayed out too late? He was waiting on the porch, arms crossed. If she got into trouble? He was the first to pull her out of it—sometimes with a lecture, sometimes with nothing but a tired sigh and a look that said he’d do it all over again if he had to.

“You can be mad at me all you want,” he told her once, his voice calm but firm. “But I’d rather have you hate me than see something happen to you.”

Because that was the thing about Darry—he wasn’t just her big brother. He was the one who had to make the tough calls, the one who had to be strong even when it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t just about being her brother; it was about making sure she had a chance at something better, something safer.

She pushed back, of course. She was a Curtis, after all. But deep down, she knew—knew he was always there, whether she liked it or not. Knew that no matter how many times they argued, no matter how much she swore she could take care of herself, Darry wasn’t going anywhere.

And if anyone thought about messing with her? Well, they’d have to answer to Darry first.