Indigo and black hues were painted on the sky as if acrylics were on a canvas. Blinding stars were speckled across the sky, and with the cooling breeze the night was nearly perfect.

Summer was coming to an end at long last and Autumn was nearby, yet I didn't have my usual enthusiasm. Lately I hadn't any excitement for pretty much anything. I was slowly turning into a pessimist, I no longer tried to be positive. Autumn was cold, the nights even colder. I would get sick easier. That was definitely one negative about that damn season.

Autumn is supposed to be the season for fresh starts, that is what I used to believe at least. I used to be overly eager about the upcoming season, for I would always solemnly swear things would be different, and things would get better.

I was wrong. Oh, so wrong.

There comes a time in everyone's life where the sparkle in your eyes will dissapear, and it may never come back. A typical sunny day with blue skies will seem like a monochrome, cloudy day. The wind will blow softly as rain trickles down onto the earth as if tears were escaping your eyes and smootly sliding down your cheeks.

And there are an infinity amount of causes. Perhaps you just simply grew up, or you have endured unspeakable experiences that slowly drain the life out of you. Whether you desire it or not, this is inevitable. There is nothing you can prevent in this cruel world we call home.

I turned around when I heard the usually blaring radio get shut off, the front door creaking open and people piling out, seemingly struggling to put one foot in front of another. I couldn't see the faces of the people well, but by the way their words were slurred and how difficult it was for them to walk; it was obvious they were drunk. And usually that's what people come to Buck's for.

Buck saddles bronc at rodeos, and Dallas Winston is a regular costumer at his place who also does rodeos with the elder male. They're not necessarily buddies, but when it's needed they have each other's backs. Buck's house is rather large yet rundown, so that's where people come to party, rent a room, get laid, or perhaps search for a desired fight. Buck didn't mind giving booze to underage folks, like me for instance, but you had to have the cash. It was real cheap though, so it was the best place in our side of town to get a drink.

I've been working for Buck for around two years now. Half of the pay is taken out for booze when I drink it and a room when I need it. Usually I don't rent out a room though, only when I'm so blitzed I can't tell left from right. And I only drink his booze if I got none of my own. It works out alright though, yet sometimes things can be rough at that place.

"I'm headin' up t' bed." I heard Buck say to me in a slur, a deep southern drawl evident in his voice. I watched him stumble his way closer to me. "You stayin'?"

I leaned to the side, looking inside at the rusted clock that hung crooked on the wall. Seeing that it was past three, I shook my head. "No." He nodded. "Thanks for stayin' late. Here," a pack of cigarettes was tossed into my hands "Someone left 'em here."

I nodded my thanks, flicking the top open and pulling out one of the few cigarettes that was left in the carton; then patted my pockets for my light. Buck rolled his eyes, walking closer to me and pulling out his own light, leaning in closer. My breath hitched, but I relaxed once I knew he was just lighting my cigarette.

He smirked. "Thanks." I uttered softly, sucking in the nicotine gratefully. He nodded and shrugged his shoulders. "Get outta here. Jus' don't get killed out there. You're the only good worker I got."

A chuckle that sounded like a scoff escaped my lips. "Get some rest Blue. Don'tcha gotta go to The Dingo in a couple hours?" "Yeah." I pinched the bridge of my nose. "That's from six to two, then I haveta go to the tracks until five."

"Why do you have all those jobs anyway?"

"Simple. So I got something to do. So I can forget."

"Forget what?"

I shook my head, allowing my bangs to remain in my eyes. "See you." Buck nodded, his fists jammed in his front pockets. "Live a little Kaylila." I smirked. "Oh, I do."

And with that, I turned my back to him and walked down the steps, making my way down the street.

Not many people were out at this time of night, so usually the streets were dead, besides the few drunks or homeless, or some Socs jumping a Greaser and vice versa. The air was getting chillier by the minute as was the wind blowing even harder. I didn't like where I slept most nights, but it's better than sleeping on concrete.

At the edge of the lot, there's an old garden shed. I cleared it out and now that's where I sleep. It can be real cold in winter though.

"Hey."

I stopped in my tracks and turned around. "Shepard."

Tim Shepard was one of the wildest hoods in town. He was also buddies with Winston, yet the two of them quarrel and fight often. Him and that little outfit of his wrecked havoc around town, but it was hilarious when they all got hauled in the police station. He jumped Socs and his record was just as long as Dallas', perhaps even longer. He reminded me of some people back in Chicago, and that made me wary.

"Comin' from Buck's?"

"Yeah. He had me work overtime."

He smirked. "How 'bout some adventure?"

I looked down at my worn shoes. A street light went out.

"Alright."

I guess sleep will have to come at another time.

"Good," a hand lightly grasped my forearm, "There's a huge party going on. Socs. We're gonna crash it."

I raised an eyebrow, biting back my retort and just settling for a quick nod. "Let's go." I nodded again, a smirk forming on my face. I could use a little adventure. Recognizing the look in my eyes, Tim quickened his pace; and for that I was thankful.

The Soc side of town was full of expensive restaurants, clean streets and parks, and the largest houses in town. But even at that side, you still had to watch your back. Us Greasers never dare to nor desire to set foot on the west side, only if we're itching for a fight.

"Say Blue, weren't you in the cooler last week?" I raised an eyebrow at the sudden question. I nodded. "Yeah. Got in a fight with the liquor store owner."

Tim laughed, looking over at me and smirking. "You stole some booze too?" "Oh hell yeah." "Atta girl."

I rolled my eyes. "And here I was beginning to think that the Kaylila Blue was going soft and workin' herself to death." I scoffed, narrowing my eyes. "Go fuck yourself, Shepard." We were surrounded by a comfortable silence for a few minutes.

As we passed shops and windows, I couldn't help but glance at my reflection and grimace. I was rather ordinary. I had bangs that covered my eyes, while my nearly white hair reached my hips. I had amber colored eyes, and an annoying amount of freckles speckled all over my face and body. The slit through one of my eyebrows just made my appearance more haggard. I was clad in old sneakers, slightly loose fitting jeans, a large black t shirt with an abundance of holes in it that managed to cover my tattoo on my tricep, and dog tags strung around my neck.

I frowned when I saw the evident bags under my eyes, it reminded me how little I've slept recently; and for a moment I regretted going with Tim. But Shepard was my buddy, and we liked to be chaotic. We didn't argue much, due to a few things about us being similar, mainly us being naturally quiet.

But, Tim Shepard is a snake. And you had to be real cautious around the bastard.

"We're here."

I looked up, the houses that lined the streets were all dark. Except for one. Music was booming and I could see the silhouettes of an abundance of people.

I stared straight ahead, tilting my head to the side. I could tell something was going to happen. And I don't think it's going to be good.