𝚂𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝙽𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?

When the school day ended, we all rushed out the front doors together, the late afternoon sun hitting us straight in the eyes. The pavement was still warm, and the air smelled faintly like dust and exhaust from the passing cars. Two-bit casually walked backwards the whole way, hands in his pockets like he didn't have a care in the world, grinning at everyone and no one.

"You heard about the Rumble?"

"Rumble? Why?"

"Something about their chicks..." he shrugged, tilting his head, "Hey, they were alone."

I hummed, kicking a loose pebble along the sidewalk, "Cherry and Marcia?"

"Those are their names?" Two-bit blinked, like that was the least important part of the story.

Pony rolled his eyes at him, shoving his hands into his jacket, "Yeah, they are dating the head group Socs. Said they ain't want any Greaser near 'em."

"Could I join?..."

They both stopped dead in their tracks and looked at me like I'd just said the wildest thing imaginable.

"What?"

"Yeah I mean..." I shifted my weight, trying to sound casual even though my heart kicked up a notch, "I wanna join."

They shared a look, something quick and wordless passing between them, then Two-bit let out a low whistle. "Damn, never thought you'd be so fierce."

I felt heat crawl up my neck, "So?"

"I don't think Darry would approve," Two-bit said, rocking back on his heels, "But hey, he ain't your papa."

"Or your brother," Pony added, glancing at me with a half-smile.

I smirked, crossing my arms, "Then don't tell him. I'd join in by surprise."

Two-bit looked at me for a second longer, then reached over and patted my shoulder like I'd just passed some kind of test. "I'm starting to like you."

We reached the DX just as the familiar smell of gasoline and motor oil hit us. Soda and Steve were already there. Steve was bent halfway into the hood of a car, sleeves rolled up and hands greasy, while Soda leaned beside him, talking a mile a minute about something.

"Hey, what are y'all up to?"

Steve startled and lifted his head too fast, smacking it against the hood with a dull thunk. He groaned, immediately grabbing his head. "Hey guys..."

Sodapop laughed, bright and easy, "Hey Y/n, how was school?"

"It was great." I shrugged, leaning against one of the posts.

Steve sighed, shutting the hood with a solid clang. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the cloth tucked into his back pocket. "Must work now. Turn the engine, will you, Soda?"

Sodapop leaped to his feet like he'd been waiting for the cue and slid into the Ford. It sputtered at first, coughing like it didn't want to wake up, then finally roared to life.

"Finally." Steve breathed out, shoulders relaxing.

"Finally something you do right, Randle," Two-bit chipped in, flashing a grin.

"Hey there, buddy," Steve shot back, narrowing his eyes, "I do more than fixin' cars. I ride 'em too."

Two-bit's grin stretched wider, "Ride what?"

"Shut your trap, Keith." Steve didn't miss a beat.

"Ouch, you're so mean," Two-bit said, raising his hands in mock surrender, a smile still plastered across his face.

Steve ignored him, sliding into the driver's seat and easing the car out of the garage. The light-blue and white 1960 Ford Fairlane 500 gleamed under the sun, freshly cleaned and waxed, looking almost too nice for a place like this.

"So y'all busy these few hours?" Pony finally asked, leaning against the side of the building.

"Yeah, gotta have a lot of work going on. Steve's leaving in an hour," Sodapop responded, hopping out and fixing his cap.

Steve sprayed the window and wiped it down carefully, his movements slower now. "Heard 'bout the rumble. You guys comin'?"

The boys nodded, all at once, like it wasn't even a question. I tried to catch the details, leaning in just slightly.

"When is it?" I asked.

" Sunday night," Steve said, glancing over, "Why?"

I shook my head, trying to sound like it didn't matter, "Don't matter."

"You wanna join, no?"

I didn't nod, but I guess it showed anyway.

"A girl in a rumble? Never heard of that." Steve smiled, not mocking, just surprised.

"Why though?" Sodapop frowned, looking at me more closely now.

"She wants to beat the crap out of Sheldon," Pony said, way too casually.

Steve and Sodapop both let out a long "Ohhh," like everything suddenly made perfect sense.

"Well, jolly girl, you're in," Sodapop said, grinning.

I felt my face warm again, trying to brush it off like it was nothing, "Thanks."

Sodapop tossed the rag over his shoulder and flashed me another grin before heading back toward the pumps. The sun was dipping lower now, stretching everything out in long golden shadows.

Pony shifted beside me, kicking at a crack in the concrete. "Are you sure about this?"

I glanced at him, raising a brow. "You gonna ask me that all night?"

He huffed a quiet laugh, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just sayin'. It ain't exactly... a schoolyard scrap."

"I know what it is." My voice came out steadier than I expected. "I'm not gonna just let what happened to me slip forever."

Two-bit clapped his hands once, breaking the tension like it annoyed him. "Well! Since we got ourselves a future rumble legend over here, I say we celebrate."

"With what?" Steve called from the car, not even looking up.

Two-bit spread his arms wide. "Absolutely nothin'. That's the best kind."

Sodapop snorted from across the lot.

I laughed under my breath, but it faded quickly when I noticed a familiar engine hum rolling in from down the street. Low, smooth... expensive. Steve noticed it too. He straightened slightly, eyes narrowing as the car pulled closer.A sleek, polished car slowed as it passed the station, the kind that didn't belong anywhere near the East side. It didn't stop—but it didn't speed up either. It drove slowly. Watching.

"Speak of the devil," Steve muttered.

Two-bit leaned forward, squinting. "Ain't that—"

"Yeah." Pony's voice dropped.

My stomach tightened slightly, the same car that chased me down that night.

The car finally rolled past, but not before I caught a glimpse through the window—clean-cut hair, eyes that pierced right through us.

Or at me,

Sodapop clicked his tongue. "They're already sizing things up."

"Let 'em," Steve said, though his jaw tightened just a little. "Sunday's when it counts."

Silence settled for a moment after that, heavier now.

Two-bit broke it first, of course. He nudged my shoulder lightly. "Still wanna jump into that?"

I didn't look away from the road where the car disappeared.

"Yeah," I said.

This time, there wasn't even a flicker of hesitation.

Pony studied me for a second, then nodded once, like he finally believed me.

"Alright then," he said quietly. "Guess we better make sure you're ready."

Steve slammed the rag down on the hood. "Yeah. Last thing we need is you getting knocked flat in the first five seconds."

"Hey," I shot back, turning to him, "I didn't say I was gonna lose."

That earned a grin. "Good," Steve said. "Then come here." He motioned me over, and the others followed, forming a loose circle near the garage.

"First rule," Steve started, leaning against the car, arms crossed, "don't go swinging wild. That's how you get yourself hurt."

"Second rule," Two-bit added, holding up two fingers, "if you see me running, you run faster."

"That ain't a real rule," Pony muttered.

"It is for me."

Sodapop laughed again, but there was something focused in his eyes now as he looked at me. "You stick close, alright? Don't go wandering off in the middle of it."

I nodded slowly, taking it all in.The laughter, the warnings, the way they circled around without making it obvious.

For the first time, I felt like a nervous wreck. But now I was part of it.

And somewhere deep in my chest, something sparked—sharp and steady.

Sunday night couldn't come fast enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pony's POV

"No." Darry shook his head firmly, jaw tight, "It's dangerous."

"C'mon, Darry, she won't get hurt." Sodapop pleaded, stepping forward like he could soften the answer just by sounding hopeful.

I stayed quiet, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. I told Soda not to say a word to Darry—we both knew how this would go—but Soda always had that thing about him. Couldn't lie, even if it made things harder.

And now here we were.

I knew Darry would deny it. I mean—it made sense. She'd already been hurt before. Bob. That whole mess. Anyone with a brain would want to keep her far away from something like a rumble.

But still... if she wanted payback, what was the matter with that?

I understood it. More than I liked to admit.

When the Socs jumped me, I couldn't even get a word out. Couldn't swing, couldn't think—just stood there and took it. I felt every hit like I deserved it for some reason.She didn't. She said she fought back. Said she got a hit in before she ran.

That alone set her apart.

She wasn't just angry.

She was built for it.

"Don't you understand?" Darry's voice rose, not yelling but close. "It's a rumble. They go wild. She might end up like us. Busted lips, black eyes, blood all over. Does that sound good to you?"

Soda and I both shook our heads.

"Right?" Darry pressed, running a hand through his hair. "I get it, she wants to beat the crap outta that kid—but when it's a whole pack of those guys? It ain't controlled. It gets reckless."

Sodapop sighed, shoulders dropping a little. "Then what?"

"Tell her it's dangerous."

Soda and I shared a look.

"...We already told her."

Darry stopped. Turned slowly. "Did you?"

I hesitated for half a second too long.

No. Not really.

Sodapop and Steve had been too busy hyping her up, talking about how gutsy she was. Two-bit joked about it, but at least he'd thrown in a warning or two.

Me?

I just watched. Figured she knew what she was getting into.

"Yeah..." I said anyway, quieter this time.

Darry let out a long breath, the kind that sounded like it'd been building up for a while. He started pacing, boots heavy against the floor, like he was trying to walk the frustration out of his system. We'd stayed with her long enough to know one thing for sure. Once she decided something... that was it. No changing her mind.

"Well," Darry muttered finally, stopping and looking between us, "what she does is up to her. I ain't her father."

He paused, softer now.

"But that don't mean I gotta like it."

There was a flicker of something there—worry, plain and simple.

"I just want her safe."

Then Darry straightened, voice back to business. "Now no more talkin' about it. Go to sleep, Ponyboy. You got school tomorrow."

I pushed off the wall, heading toward my room.

But the word rumble stuck in my head the whole way there.

It was making me tense just thinking about it.