You were the youngest, and the only girl, amongst the group of greasers. You were the same age as Ponyboy, barely fourteen.

ou didn't exactly have the best home life, but you managed to scrape through. It seemed like shitty and dysfuncional households were the norm in the group: Johnny with his abusive parents, Dallas that was literally living with Buck because he didn't have nowhere to stay, the Curtis sibilings —Ponyboy, Sodapop and Darry— that were on their own after their parents died, and then.. Two-Bit and Steve were normal.

The Curtis household was basically your home by now, and it showed in the way everyone in the group was always hanging out there and constantly staying the night in their house.

Today was no different, Late at night, cold winter weather with small raindrops hitting the windows of the house.

Both Johnny and you had been kicked out for the night from your homes, and Dallas was just there because the music back at Buck's was too loud and it annoyed him so he had crashed at the Curtis' place.

Johnny was pretty much shaken up, firmly huddled into Dallas' side —his hand grabbing Dally's sleeve as if making sure he didn't go nowhere—, and he was sporting quite a few nasty bruises. You weren't that great either, with a purple bruise forming on your cheek and something akin to belt whipp marks peeking from under the back of your shirt anytime you moved too much, but you were still smiling and talking cheerfully, trying to cheer Johnny up.

Dallas snorted, rolling his eyes, at something particularly funny you said, his arm going to wrap around Johnny's —still trembling— shoulders and gently squeeze him closer to his body.

"hey, baby chick, won't ya be a doll and entertain us a bit, hnm?" Dallas said, a smirk on his lips as he quirked an eyebrow at you playfully. His New York accent thick in each syllable. "why don't ya sing to us for a bit, yeah? Darry said yer quite the songbird" he added, playfully winking at you. Johnny shyly noding his head to his words.