------Dally's POV------
We got in the car and I sped down the road. "So Brookie how've you been?" I ask while focusing on the road. "Just dandy. I've only been living in that hell we call home with that scum we call dad." She says "Look Brooklyn" she winces "I couldn't have taken you with me. I had no clue where I was headin'" she sighs "Dally you coulda called after ya found a place or somethin' why did ya wait 8 years?" "I wasn't gonna have my baby sister on the streets of New York by her lonesome at the age of 10" "You still coulda called and said that ya were ok. I thought you died or something" she starts crying and honestly I do too. I missed her but I didn't want her here until she was sorta grown up. I guess 16 is ok. I pulled over and I hugged her. She cries into my shoulder and I hug her. I guess neither of us are used to crying or hugging because we're both kinda awkward bout it. "I missed ya Dally." "I missed you too Brooke." We continued hugging and eventually we both calmed down and I continue driving.

------Brooke's POV------
He pulled up in front of a run down house. The paint was peeling off and the gate was rusty. There was a boy out front smoking a weed. He looked 13 or 14 years old. He had blond hair with brown roots and he was wearing a green t-shirt and jeans and dirty ripped converse. "Dal who's that?" I asked he chuckled "That Mr. Ponyboy Curtis." "Mr.? He probably ain't more than 13 or 14." Dally laughed "He's 14" "Is this where you're staying?" Dal nodded his head and turned the engine off and got out. I got out and we walked past the boy, he was staring at me, and we went inside. I may be 16, well I'll be 16 in 18 days, but I look 14. We walk inside and everyone starts staring at me. I don't like this, I don't like this one bit.