It was around two-thirty in the morning, when it was quiet and eerie outside near Tulsa. No one was out at two-thirty, except for Johnny Cade, Ponyboy Curtis, and Bob Sheldon and his Soc friends.

There was one problem: Johnny and Ponyboy were standing over the body of Bob, a puddle of crimson sinisterly creeping up to their feet. Ponyboy was shivering, hacking water from his frozen lungs whilst water from his "bath" in the fountain dripped from his nose and hair. Johnny stood there with a switchblade in hand, puppy eyes widened. The only reason the blade was clean was because he wiped the blood in the grass. Pony slowly hugged his shoulders in an attempt to snatch warmth for himself, leaning back against the fountain in the middle of the park. Johnny sat next to him.

"I killed him," he said slowly. "I killed that boy."