You'd been walking for a while, kicking at loose gravel, trying to sort out the knot in your stomach. The gang had been acting strange all week—short answers, avoiding your gaze, suddenly busy whenever you showed up. You'd told yourself it was your imagination. That they were just tired, or tense about something.

The lot came into view. The old wooden fence, the patchy grass, the familiar cluster of figures by the railroad tracks. Your heart did a little skip, relief washing through you. There they were.

You called out as you approached, a smile pulling at your lips.

They were all there. Darry, arms crossed, his face unreadable. Sodapop, looking at the ground like it held the secrets to the universe. Johnny, huddled near Dally, pale and avoiding your eyes. Two-Bit and Steve, unusually quiet, exchanging glances that said too much.

And then there was Ponyboy. Your Ponyboy. Standing a few feet apart from them. Next to Cherry Valance.

Her hand was on his arm. His fingers were loosely tangled with hers. Their shoulders brushed like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.