The Outsiders meet elves: A Keeper of the Lost Cities crossover a Sophitz story

Chapter 1 - Tess

I'm Tess Curtis. Even though I'm 13, my brothers treat me like I'm 8. The only person that treats me like a 13-year-old is Johnny. He's had a hard life, with his parents beating him, and the Socs after him. He doesn't talk much because of it.

I started to hear everyone's thoughts a couple months ago, when my parents died. Well, I can hear everyone's thoughts except for the gang's. I'm not sure why, but I'm scared to tell anyone. I told the doctors once, right after my parents died. They said it was stress, and if it continued I would be sent away. No one ever comes back.

"Pony, Tess, can I take the couch?" Johnny said, as he came in through the door.

"Sure," I said, "parent problems?"

"Yeah." He sighed.

I looked at him sadly, seeing the sorrow in his eyes. His eyes are big and full of emotion, like a puppy's. Deep brown windows to his soul. He has good-looking long hair. I long to brush his dark locks out of his hair so he can see the world. And so the world can see him. I stared at his scar, running all the way from his scar to his cheekbone.

---Flashback (2 years ago)---

"Let's play football!" shouted Darry, "the teams can be Soda, Dally, Tess, and Two against Pony, me, Steve, and Johnny."

"Let's go!" Soda shouted.

"I think Two's drunk," Johnny said softly. "Guys? I mean like, about to pass out drunk."

"They won't hear you. They're too excited about football to listen to anything that isn't football related," said Pony.

"You know how they are. They love football," I said.

Two-Bit stumbled along, clearly drunk. Two-Bit managed to not pass out as we played football. Steve threw the ball way too far.

"I'll get it," said Johnny.

Five minutes later, he still wasn't back.

"Where is he?" Dally wondered. "How far did you throw the ball Steve?"

I'm slightly scared of Dally. He's the most dangerous out of the gang. The part that scares me the most though, is his eyes. You know how brown eyes are supposed to be warm? His are cold. They're dead, almost. The only emotions he ever has are anger and hate.

I see his jacket. He never takes off that denim jacket. Ever. I see blood. Johnny's blood, probably. Streaks of blood, leading to a small lump that looks an awful lot like Johnny.

"Johnny!" I scream, as I run to him.

I get there first, and when I see his face, I gasp. There's a gash that runs from his temple to his cheekbone. The gang runs up. Pony, Soda, and Steve are shaken up. Two would be shaken up, but he's too drunk to really notice much. Darry starts taking control.

"We gotta get him to the house. I can carry him," Darry said.

"No!" Dally shouted.

"What?" Soda said, "We have to get him home. If we don't get him home, he'll die."

"I mean, I'll carry him," Dally said, softening his tone.

Everyone stared at him. Dallas Winston has never offered to do anything that wasn't required of him. Sometimes, he didn't even do that. The only thing he likes to do is brag about his police record. He says it's a mile long. The scary thing is, he started it when he was ten. He doesn't want anyone to think he's anywhere near good. I looked at Dally and I saw that his eyes weren't cold and full of hate and anger. In fact, they were soft and almost loving. He gently scooped Johnny up and started walking.