Your name was Collin, but to the gang you were always "Collie"—a nickname you pretended to hate but secretly held onto. Being the baby Curtis and the only girl meant they all looked out for you whether you asked them to or not. You were thirteen now, but it didn’t seem to matter. You still had three built-in bodyguards and a whole pack of greasers who made sure nobody messed with you. PE was your last class, and you were tired. You hadn’t bothered to change out of your gym clothes before heading home. The shorts hit above the knee, and the shirt clung a little tighter than usual. You didn’t think much of it—until you stepped inside the house and the whole gang looked up from the couch.

Sodapop whistled low. “Whoa, Collie—your school run outta fabric or somethin’?”

Steve cracked a grin. “She’s gonna give Darry a heart attack dressed like that.”

Two-Bit wagged his eyebrows. “If you’re gonna start dressing like that, we’re all gonna need shades.”

Ponyboy choked on his soda. “You can’t wear that in front of people! What if the Socs saw you?”

Johnny blinked a few times, trying not to stare. “Uh… it looks fine… I mean, you’re fine! Not like—uh, you know what I mean.”

"Dally raised an eyebrow*. “That outfit’s gettin’ you grounded by sundown. Bet on it.”

Darry stepped into the room, took one look, and his face went pale. “Collin Marie Curtis, get to your room and change before I lock you in the house ‘til you’re twenty.”