Outsiders Fan Fiction. (Unnamed)
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October 6th, 2012 (11:00 AM).
Mahamagiha, my friends!
Helloes, everyone! I don't know how many of you have read The Outsiders, but it's a requirement in most schools, so I'm sure many of you will know what it is. I'm really in love with this book. SOOO I made a fanfiction! I already have 3 chapters, going on four, but I'll just post one for now.
It DOES have an OC in it, and I hope she's not mary sue.
If she is, tell me! Give me advice! Cuz I hate mary sues as much as everyone else!
So, here! Read! Enjoy! Critisize! Whatever! :D
OFF CHAPTER ONE
The August night was sticky hot, and my covers were spilling off my bed. A siren wailed somewhere in the stretch of Chicago outside my apartment building, chorused by laughter of a couple night – crawling kids from in front of the lobby.
I sigh at the book laying in my lap. Its paperback cover was fresh and glossy with the black and white photograph of a boy in a leather jacket, his face covered with the words “The Outsiders” scrawled in old-fashioned text.
“Okay, let’s see…” I peeled the book open, its binding still stiff, and flipped a page. “Chapter One…”
Yawning loudly, I held the flashlight out in my right hand, beams of light glinting off my legs that were stretched out before me on my comfortable daybed. Technically, I wasn’t supposed to be reading so late on a school night, but curiosity defeated my usual loyalty to my parent’s rules. Most of my close friends were babbling about The Outsiders and what and amazing book it was. All I’d heard for the past three weeks was
“Alexis, you need to read it, the guys are soooo hot.”
“Oh my gosh, I love Soda – pop.”
, or something of the sort. I actually wasn’t really all interested in the book after hearing those kinds of reviews, but when one of my more sensible friends told me the some info, I became genuinely interested. And, okay, okay, I confess I was a tiny bit curious about the so – called “hot” boys. I am a girl, after all, though most people find that hard to believe since I’m so completely different from most girls my age. I’m a little lost on my purpose in life, and I’m a bit all over the place when it comes to my likes and dislikes and who I want to be and stuff. But that doesn’t make me a boy. At least, I don’t think it does.
I began to read my book, but I had barely gotten past the first page when I suddenly heard a loud shatter of glass that sent me scrambling to flip the flashlight off and tuck it under my pillow. My breathing heavy, I listened as the angry voices of my parents were thrown back and forth, sometimes layering over each other. I sighed deeply, throwing my pillow over my head. I knew exactly what they were arguing about. It was always the same thing at least five times a week. Money.
I used to cry every time I heard my parents quarrel. But after a couple of years, you get used to it a lot. Now it just seemed like they were having a yelling competition, stuttering over their sloppy sentences that made no sense except to themselves. They always fought over money, and nothing else. Apparently, they had both made lots of financial mistakes as kids, and the mistakes became more frequent later on, and now they were seriously paying the price. Literally.
As the shouting subsided, I grabbed the flashlight and book and tucked the pillow back under my head. I really envied my older siblings. They were all in upstate Chicago, living free, jovial lives, without having to be burdened with the stress from Mom and Dad. Unlike me, who had to deal with it every day. You might not think it’s terrible, but you don’t know what it’s like. Sometimes I felt older than I really was, slipping into their worries to the point where I become stingy and over-conservative with my spending. My parents were running around in circles, making the same mistakes in all the wrong places. And I had to follow them.
I picked the book back up and turned the pages again, inhaling that paper scent new books always have. Geez, my friend probably only had this book for a week before she lent it to me. But she was already pouring her heart out about it. Is it really that good?
I yawned again, cracked my neck, and started back right from the beginning.
“When I stepped into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home…”
I can’t remember exactly, but I think I reached the end of the first chapter, when that boy, Sodapop, was telling Ponyboy about his love for some
, Sandy. When I neared the end of the first chapter, I heard my parents’ voices kick off again, this time, louder, angrier, and more furious. I could hear them clearly now.
“-and if we had saved up all that f--- money from-“
“Now don’t bring that blasted rental idea again like—“
“We wouldn’t be in debt if you had just listened to me—“
“-Alexis had just been born; you expected me to rent off the first two floors to complete strangers?!”
I groaned loudly. Sometimes I felt like every single financial bump in my parents’ lives was somehow caused by me. Whether it was my birth or my first day of school or something, it was always me.
I rubbed my temple to soothe the head-ache that was forming there. I tried to focus on the next page in The Outsiders, but the words began to blur together. Pretty soon, a sweet silence wafted over my ears and cuddled my entire body, and I fell sound asleep.
And when I would wake up, I would find myself lost in an odyssey, one so completely real that it just had to be fake.
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