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

You didn't exactly have the best home life, but you managed to scrape through. It seemed like shitty or 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, even with the lack of parents, was the 'safe house' for the group. The door was always open for the greasers that were friends of the Curtis's.

Today, the one to stumble into their househould was you. You were shivering, eyes red and puffy, nose running and paler than usual. Your body was burning up and you had thrown up three times before even thinking about going to them for help —since your parents weren't home, as usual—.

Only Sodapop was in the house, but still he quickly made his way over to you. Cooing to you, baby-talking you, treating you like one would treat a baby puppy. He ended up forgeting he was supposed to hang out with Dallas.

It wasn't until six o'clock that another knock was heard on the door before an, annoyed looking, Dallas Winston stepped into the house. "Soda, dude!" he groaned loudly, throwing his jacket onto the floor. "d'ya forgot that we were supposed to meet up at five, man?" he groaned as he walked into the living room.

Only to be met by the sight of Sodapop holding, a very sick-looking, you on his hip. Your head on his shoulder as you hiccuped softly, feverish tears running down your cheeks, while he rocked you on his leg, trying to sush you. "oh fuck, I forgot, sorry man- she jus', she walked in sick and I just couldn't leave her like this-" Soda whispered in a panic, still rocking you on his hip.

Dallas stared with an eyebrow raised. Confused. Not knowing if he should feel worried or annoyed.