The Outsiders Preferences

How You Met

Ponyboy: You were on a park bench trying to get something out of To Kill A Mockingbird for your English book report. It was hard to concentrate on the book, you were a sucker for nature, and you couldn't help but notice the leaves of all different shades of orange, yellow, and red dance slowly as they made their way to the ground. Or how the pinkish sky looked like someone took a paintbrush and Jackson Pollocked red, purple, blue, salmon, and orange paint across the sky and made the clouds. You sat the book in your lap to look the sunset that was going on. "May I sit?" A boy's voice said, making you jump. "Sure.... golly. You sure scared the life out of me..." You responded.
      "Gosh... I didn't mean to. My name's Ponyboy." He said, changing the subject.
      "Mine's Y/N." You said.
      "That's a nice name..." he said, his attention now drawn to your book. "And that's a nice book. I guess you're the one who checked it out of the library before I got my hands on it." He paused for a moment. "Aren't you that girl that sits behind me in English?"
       "Yeah," you answered, a bit flustered.
      "Cool. Next time there's a partner project, I'm always open. Just sayin'."
        "Me too. I don't have a social life."* You both laughed and walked home.

Sodapop: You were walking home from pom practice, and you didn't have room in your bag for your pompoms so you carried them. You weren't a greaser. Greasers were BOYS in your neighborhood, but you were extremely poor. The only reason you got to do pom was because you worked three jobs over the summer and were able to save up just enough money for a jacket, pompoms, a uniform, dance shoes, and a competition outfit. You planned to try to get into college with your pom knowhow. It was unusually chilly for September, and the wind was really rough. You and your friends jokingly taped down your skirts to your legs, but it was actually coming in handy.
       You turned onto your street, and the usual was happening. Dogs barking, people yelling, but there was more this time. A lot of boys were standing outside being obnoxious, but there was one that seemed to catch your eye. It was that boy from the DX that every girl in town had the hots for. This was the closest you'd ever seen him. You'd always judged the girls that were all over him all of the time, but seeing him up close, with his whole face, you kind of understood.
        "Wow..." you thought to yourself, as a final gust of wind blew both of your pompoms out of your hands and over to the boys. You ran on your tip toes to try and get them without disturbing them, but it was too late. They both hit Sodapop Curtis in the leg.
        "I'm sooooooooo sorry." You said as you bent over to pick them up. He didn't seem upset.
        "So you're a paper shaker, huh?" He asked.
        "Yeah." You could feel yourself turning red.
        "You good at it?" Another boy asked---- you thought his name was Keith, although everyone called him Two-Bit. He took the pompoms out of your hand and flailed them around like an idiot.
        "Yeah, actually, I won the state championship for our team." You said proudly. "And that's not how you do it." You said, taking the pompoms back. "We're not cheerleaders. We actually put a lot of thought into our choreography. Stop by and maybe our team will give you lessons sometime, Keith."
       Sodapop smiled that reckless grin of his. "God, why is he so perfect," you mumbled. "Well, I've got to get going. Sorry to bother you."
      "You didn't bother me none." Sodapop said. "Stop by the DX tomorrow, and we can talk some more."
      "O-okay." You stuttered and walked away.

Darry: You were at the grocery store picking up some eggs, milk, and some cereal just so you could eat something. "Gosh darn it..." You said quietly trying to reach the cereal on the top shelf. You had to start getting creative. First, you started hopping up and down over and over again trying to reach it. When that didn't work, you did ballerina toes. "Why did I have to be cheated out of a good height? Thanks a lot, Mom."
    A really tall dude, about your age, came by and saw you struggling. "Do you need help?"
    "I'm afraid I do. I'm really sorry, but would you help me?" You said, desperate for something that was other than eggs and bread.
    "My pleasure," he said, grinning, causing you to shoot him a beaming smile too. "Is this what you need?" He asked, pointing to the cereal. You nodded, and he got it without even trying. "Here you are." He handed you the box.
      "This is a strange request, but can I hug you?" You asked, grateful that your superhero came by to save the freaking day.
       "Sure?" He answered, probably questioning his whole life. You walked up to him and gave him a bear hug. He awkwardly patted you on the back. You finally released him.
       "Thanks," you said again. "My name's Y/N." You held out your hand for him to shake.
        "My name's Darrel. But everyone calls me Darry." He chuckled and shook your hand. "Maybe I'll see you around?"
        "Maybe," you said, smiled and walked away.

Two-Bit: You were at the drive-ins with your friends, and you had actually attempted to dress to look nice for once. You had a skirt on, a sweater, and even some mascara. You went all-out.
       You eyed this drunk kid from halfway across the property. He was flirting with a lot of girls, and mostly getting slapped in the face. A little way through the movie, you got up to go tell Y/F/N that you saw her boyfriend with another girl. You went to where she was standing, and tried to make small talk with her before telling her what was happening. You tried to ignore the obnoxious laughing behind you as it got closer. You both had you elbows on the hood of a car, propping your heads up to watch the movie, when you felt your skirt fly up.
         You spun around and found yourself face to face with the perpetrator. That drunk kid. His hair was really greasy, and he was wearing a leather jacket with a Mickey Mouse shirt underneath the leather jacket. You thought he was actually kind of cute.
         "What was that for?" You asked him. He didn't answer. He just shrugged. "Well that's not how you get a girl. You gotta tell her how ya feel, and it can't be 'well you got a pretty face'. At least not me." You turned around, agitated. A few seconds later, someone tapped you on your back. You turned around.
         "Hi." It was that drunk kid still. "My name's Two-Bit. I sit behind you in math. I have had a crush on you since second grade. Not just because you're pretty, which you are, you have a sense of humor. And I like that in a girl. Anyone, really. And you, I love the way you insult people without even realizing it, giving me something to laugh about all day long, and I find that attractive." He pretended there were tears in his eyes and dramatically brushed them away. "Do you wanna go out sometime?" He asked. You thought he may have actually been *gasp* nervous.
         "Maybe when you're sobered up, pal." You said, and watched as he danced away. "MY NAME'S Y/N!" You yelled.
         "I know!" He yelled back.

Steve: (okay, not how you met, but how he realized your existence.)It was a short story, but you remember it like it was yesterday. You were getting out of school and your biggest crush ever, Steve Randle looked at you. Looked at you. And smiled. At you. You were about to have a heart attack. Then, when you walked out of the school, he was waiting. "Hey, Y/N," he said.
     "He knows my name!" You whispered.
     "I was wondering if you wanted to go to The Dingo with me. Tomorrow night?" "
     "Oh my gosh! Yes!---- I mean... sure, why not?" You said trying to mask your enthusiasm.
     "See ya there." He said, flashing a smile. You didn't care that it was crooked. You loved it.

Dally: Dallas Winston was a bad boy. Like the kind of boy every girl in school wanted to be with. You weren't so sure. You had heard a lot of bad things about him. You were walking home when someone started following you. Then he came up right next to you.
           "Act like you know me. The fuzz are after me."
           "Okay...? How has your car been? I heard it got screwed up real bad."
    "Pretty good," he kept your fake conversation going. "Got someone to fix it up for me."
      "That's good." You answered.
      A police car drove by, and worried they'd see his face, you kissed him right on the lips. "Take one for the team, buddy," you said to a flushed Dallas Winston.
      "So we're a couple now?" He asked.
   "Guess so..." you answered jokingly. He was serious.

Johnny: You had seen him before in school, but you didn't know his name. On the way home from school one day, you had a huge amount of books to the point where you could hardly see anything. You bumped into someone on the sidewalk and your books went everywhere.
          "S-s-sorry..." a tan-skinned, dark-haired boy said.
            "Don't be. It was my fault. I wasn't looking." You bent over to reach the same book and your hands touched. "My name is Y/N. What's yours?"
            "Johnny...J-j-j-Johnny C-C-Cade."
              "That's a nice name..." you said. "See ya around." You said, gathering your books again and walking away.