Pepsicola🥤💗

Currently writing The Greaser Next Door on Wattpad!! I will also be posting it here as I go. Looking for readers to help me grow!!!

[pepsicola-love]

SODAPOP CURTIS FANFIC🥤💗

Hello!! I need your help! I am working on this fanfic and need feedback! Please check it out if you have time and comment any tips or ideas! I would greatly appreciate it! 🙏😊

Lacey Cade returns to Tulsa following her big brother, Johnnys death. She finds a family in the greasers, and as she navigates grief, she al

[pepsicola-love]

Pinky Promise - Lacey Cade:

I'm perched on the counter with the first-aid kit balanced beside me, his cut-up face cradled in my hands. He keeps trying to brush it off like always, because if there's one thing I know about Sodapop Curtis, it's that he doesn't show when he's hurting. He makes jokes, but I'm not laughing. Not when he looks like this. Not when I can tell it hurts more than he's letting on.

I dip the cotton in antiseptic and his eyes lock on mine. Usually he can't go thirty seconds without running his mouth, but now, now he's just watching me. And I can feel it. Like he's memorizing my face or something. It makes my stomach flip in a way I don't want to admit.

I clean the scrape on his cheekbone, and he doesn't even flinch. I know it's gotta hurt, but he's too focused on me to notice, apparently. His lashes are so long up close, almost pretty. His skin's warm beneath my fingertips, and I'm suddenly very aware of how close we are. Close enough to feel his warm breath against my wrist.

Once I'm done, I smooth a bandage carefully over the cut. My heart's pounding, but I lean in anyway, pressing a soft kiss where the bandage sits. Just a quick little comfort thing, I tell myself. Something you'd do for a kid. Or a friend.

I realize I'm still holding his face. His jaw fits perfectly in my palms, solid and sure, and when I finally dare to look into his eyes, there's something there that makes my chest ache. Something that feels bigger than both of us.

He leans in slowly, like he's giving me every chance to push him away. My breath catches. I should. I should stop this before it starts. But instead I freeze, wide-eyed, because part of me wants this more than I ever thought I could.

And then his lips brush mine, soft and cautious. I gasp, startled, but the surprise melts fast into something warmer, deeper. My body moves before my brain can catch up, and suddenly my arms are wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. My legs hook around his waist without thinking, holding him right there between my knees. The kiss deepens, messy with nerves but sweet, like we've both been waiting without knowing it. My fingers slide into his hair, tugging lightly, and he makes this sound—low, like a sigh—that sends shivers down my spine.

This is Sodapop Curtis. The sweet boy next door. My best friend. And right now, kissing him feels like the most natural thing in the world.

When we finally break apart, I'm breathless. His forehead leans against mine, and for a moment all I can hear is us. Our uneven breathing, the faint hum of the fridge behind the counter, the rush of my own pulse in my ears.

Soda's lips are still barely brushing mine, like he's scared to let go. His hands have found my waist, and they linger there now, warm and steady, like he's afraid I'll slip away if he moves. "Lace..." His voice is quiet, rougher than I've ever heard it. Not the easy, joking tone I'm used to. It sends another flutter racing through me.

I pull back just enough to really look at him. His sparkling blue eyes are wide, searching mine, like he's waiting for me to tell him this was a mistake. Like he's bracing for me to laugh it off. But I don't. I can't. Because my hands are still cupping his face, and I don't want to let go. "That was..." I stop, shaking my head a little because words feel impossible. "Soda, I—"

"You don't gotta say nothin'," he interrupts softly, but his thumb strokes absently against my hip like he's begging me not to run. "I just... I had to. Couldn't help it."

I should be panicking, but instead there's this strange calm inside me. Like all the little pieces just slid into place. My lips curve into the smallest smile. "Took you long enough."

His eyes widen for half a heartbeat, then that familiar Soda grin breaks across his face, brighter and more nervous than I've ever seen it.

And before either of us can overthink it, he kisses me again.

The night air is cool against my cheeks, and Soda's hand is wrapped around mine like it's the most natural thing in the world. It should feel strange, but it doesn't. If anything, it feels overdue, like maybe I've been waiting for this without even knowing it. Still, my heads spinning. The kiss, his fingers laced with mine... it's all happening so fast I half expect my neck to snap from the whiplash.

But when I glance over at him, his lopsided grin smiling back, the way he swings our arms a little as we walk, so casual you'd think this was something we'd been doing forever.

"So," he says after a stretch of easy silence, voice light, "you gonna tell me how you got so good with a first aid kit? You patched me up like you've been practicin' for years." The question makes me stiffen, just a fraction. He notices, of course he does, and I can tell he regrets what he said. He didn't mean it to bring back bad memories.

I take a breath, eyes on the cracked sidewalk ahead. "You could say I got...experience. Johnny and me, we were always patchin' each other up. Cuts, bruises, burns, you name it." My laugh is humorless. "You learn quick when nobody else is gonna do it for you."

Soda's not smiling anymore, I can feel it without looking. Ive never been real open to talking about my parent's abuse. It always feels like if I say it out loud, they'll reappear and make me live it all over again. Soda's thumb brushes my knuckles like he's trying to tell me he's listening, that it's safe.

The words slip out before I can stop them. "One time, Johnny wasn't home. Just me and my old man." My voice shakes a little, and I swallow hard. "He'd been drinking. Got it in his head I looked at him wrong, or said somethin' smart. Doesn't take much with him." I stop walking, because the memory is pulling me under. "He slammed me against the wall so hard my head split open. Kept hittin' me, even after I went down. I thought—" My throat tightens, but I force it out. "I thought I wasn't gonna get back up. And all I could think was how bad it was gonna wreck Johnny if he came home and found me...well, gone." Silence. It feels like the whole street's holding its breath.

Then Soda lets go of my hand only to wrap both arms around me, pulling me into his chest so tight it's like he's trying to squeeze the memory right outta me. I melt into it, burying my face into the fabric of his shirt, breathing in the faint smell of gasoline and soap that's just so...him.

"Oh, Lace," he whispers against my hair, voice rough. "Ain't nobody ever gonna hurt you like that again, you hear?" He links his pinky with mine and squeezes, "Pinky promise." And then he brings our joined fingers to his lips, and plants a small kiss, sealing the deal.

Then, he kisses the top of my head, soft and lingering. My eyes sting, but it's not from sadness. It's something warmer, deeper, like relief.

We start walking again, his arm still looped around me for a while before he finds my hand again. Neither of us say much, but we don't need to. The rhythm of our steps, the steady pressure of his palm against mine, that says enough.

The rest of the walk is quiet, but not uncomfortable. Every so often, Soda gives my hand a little squeeze, like he's reminding me he's still there. I don't let go. Not once. When we finally reach my house, the porch light glows soft against the night. I slow my steps, not quite ready to let go of the moment. Soda notices. He always notices.

We stop at the bottom of the steps. He's still holding my hand, thumb tracing slow circles against my skin. For a second, I think maybe he'll lean down and kiss me again, and the thought makes my heart pound against my ribs so hard I'm sure he can hear it.

But he doesn't kiss me. Instead, he brings our joined hands up between us, his eyes locked on mine in that soft, steady way that makes me feel like the only person in the world. He turns my hand over gently, and then, with a tenderness I didn't know anyone could have, he presses his lips to the back of it. It's not fiery or rushed like before. It's deliberate. Reverent. A promise in itself. I hate promises.

When he pulls back, he gives me that movie star grin. "Goodnight, Lace," he murmurs, voice low. "Sweet dreams." And then he lets go. Softly, like it takes effort, and jogs over to his house. I stand there for a long moment after he disappears inside, staring at my hand where his lips touched it. My chest feels too full, like maybe my heart is trying to climb right out of me. I step inside, shutting the door softly behind me. My whole body feels like it's buzzing, like I'm floating rather than walking. I lean against the door, letting out this little sigh I didn't mean to, and before I know it I'm sitting on the floor, knees pulled up, grinning so wide it almost hurts. I close my eyes for just a second, replaying the way Soda looked at me, the feel of his lips—

"You alright, Lace?" My eyes fly open, and I practically jump out of my skin. Ponyboy's voice comes from the couch, and when I glance over, he's sitting there with a book in his lap, one eyebrow raised.

Heat rushes to my face, and I scramble to my feet like I wasn't just swooning on the floor. "Yeah! Yeah I'm fine. Just...long day, y'know?"

Pony doesn't look convinced. He just watches me with that suspicious little squint of his, like he can read straight through me. "Uh-huh."

I clear my throat, desperate to change the subject. "Where's Sammy?"

"Asleep," he says, flipping his book closed. "Bathed, fed, and out like a light."

Relief washes over me, and I cross the room to throw my arms around him in a quick hug. "Thank you, Pony. Really."

He hugs me back, but when I pull away, that look is still on his face. Half curious, half teasing. "So what exactly made your walk home so good?"

I roll my eyes and turn toward the hallway before he can press further. "Drop it, Pony. You're too nosy for your own good." Behind me, I hear him chuckle, and I don't even have to look to know he's still wearing that suspicious grin.

The next morning feels different. I can't put my finger on it, but I feel it in the way Soda's smile doesn't reach his eyes when I pass him at the DX. He still calls out "Hey, Lace," like always, but there's something pulled back about him, like he's holding part of himself in reserve.

Not that I can blame him. I'm the same way. My stomach's been twisted all morning, replaying last night over and over. His hand in mine, him kissing my hand, the way he hugged me like he was trying to fix all of the broken pieces inside of me. But what if I'm just another one of Soda's flings? He could have any girl in Tulsa. Girls prettier, funnier, easier. Why would he choose me?

By the time lunch rolls around, I can't take it anymore. We're sitting side by side out back, sharing a sandwich Darry packed for him. The silence between us feels heavy. I finally blurt it out.

"What's going on with you, Soda?"

He looks up, surprised, mouth still full of sandwich. I push on before I lose my nerve. "I mean...last night. Did it even mean anything to ya? Because if it didn't, I gotta know now. I can't..." My throat tightens, and I glance down at my hands. "I can't get too attached if I don't mean anything to you."

For a long moment, he just stares at me, like I've knocked the wind right out of him. Then he sets the sandwich down, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Lace," he says softly, "it meant everything. You gotta believe that. It's just..." He drags a hand through his hair, eyes clouded. "Last time I gave someone those parts of me, my heart, my trust, it was Sandy. And she hurt me bad. Real bad. I haven't let anyone close enough since, and...and it's just scary."

The raw honesty in his voice breaks something in me. Without thinking, I reach out and cover his hand with mine. "Soda...I know what it feels like to be hurt by the people that are supposed to love you. I wouldn't, God, I couldn't ever do that to you." I pause, thinking. "This morning, I thought maybe I meant nothing to you." My voice cracks, and I force a shaky laugh. "Guess we're both idiots."

That pulls the smallest smile out of him. He squeezes my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles like he's memorizing the feel of me. "You mean everything, Lace. I just need a minute to get my head on straight. But I swear to you, last night was real."

My heart swells so fast it almost hurts. I squeeze his hand right back. "Alright then, take a minute to figure it out. But then I wanna prove it to you. That I'd never hurt you. Not like she did. Because this, this is real."

Soda's grin finally lights up his whole face again,  that easy, boyish charm back where it belongs. He leans closer, bumping his shoulder against mine. "Real, huh? Then I guess you're stuck with me, Lacey Cade."

"Guess so," I tease, but I'm smiling so wide I can barely eat my half of the sandwich.

Just like that, the heaviness lifts, replaced with the same giddy, smitten warmth as last night. Only now, it's steadier. Safer. Something worth holding on to.

I would love your feedback! Follow along for updates to this story or check out the completed fanfic on Wattpad here:

In a town divided by loyalty, love is the only thing worth fighting for. Lacey Cade returns to Tulsa following the death of her brother. She

[pepsicola-love]

Trouble - Sodapop Curtis:

Her eyes flick up at me, quick, like she ain't sure if she oughta laugh or run, and it just about knocks the air clean outta my chest. Lacey. Sweet, stubborn, best-friend-since-forever Lacey. I've pulled her into a million dumb things before. Skippin' stones, stealin' Cokes from the DX, draggin' her onto dance floors. Always harmless, always easy. But now? Now it don't feel so harmless.

I keep us swayin', real slow, thumbs brushin' her sides 'cause I can't help it. She's warm. Close. And I'm noticin' stuff I shouldn't. Like the way her hair catches the light, the tiny wrinkle she gets when she's tryin' not to smile.

And it scares the hell outta me.

I told myself I was done with this. Done lettin' anybody in. Sandy made sure of that. You give someone everything, every piece of you, and they still leave you standin' there like a fool. Took me months to quit waitin' for her letters. Took me even longer to quit pretendin' it didn't matter. Still hurts if I let myself sit with it too long. So I don't.

I sure as hell ain't supposed to start lookin' at Lacey Cade like this. Not after all she's been through, not after we've gotten so close. She deserves better than me messin' that up. But, damn. It feels different tonight. She feels different tonight. I lean in a little, just enough to catch that she smells like cigarettes and vanilla, and my chest twists up somethin' fierce. I tell myself to let go, crack a joke, make her roll her eyes and break whatever spell this is. But I can't. Not yet. Not when she's lookin' at me like that.

But then she steps back suddenly, eyes wide, cheeks burnin' red like I just set her on fire. "I-uh... I should—" Before I can say anything, she's gone, grabbin' her jacket and dashin' toward the door. The sound of it slamming behind her echoes, leaving me standin' there with my hands still hoverin' where her waist was, heart hammering like a drum.

I let out a low whistle and rub my neck, mutterin' under my breath, "Yeah...real smooth, Curtis."

I flop on my bed, tryin' to think of anythin' besides the way she looked tonight, the way her laugh hit just right, or how close we were. How every nerve in me went electric.

I figure Pony's asleep, but a soft groan tells me otherwise. He rolls over, squinting at me. "Hey...uh...what was goin' on at the party? You and Lace?" Why does my kid brother gotta always pick up on stuff like this? Kid's too smart for his own good.

I shrug, tossin' a pillow over my face. "What? We're buds, Pony. Just buds."

Pony's still, thinking it over, then snorts quietly. "Mhm. Buds. Sure, Soda." I don't argue. Can't. I just lay there, starin' at the ceiling. Tonight was different. And I don't know how to fix it, or if I even want to for that matter.

Morning comes slow. The sun's just peekin' through the blinds, casting stripes across the floor, and I'm already on my feet. The events from last night? I shove 'em down, tuck 'em behind a grin. Ain't nobody else needs to know I'm sweatin' over Lacey Cade. Not yet.

I head for the bathroom, dodging Ponyboy as he shuffles past, hair sticking every which way. "Mornin', Soda," he mutters without lookin' up. I toss him a grin.

"Sup," I say.

"Sleep okay?"

"Like a log," I lie smoothly. Truth is, I barely slept. But that ain't for Pony to know.

Darry's already in the kitchen, coffee brewin', the smell thick and strong. He's got that permanent crease between his brows, the one that makes him look older than the rest of us. "Morning, boys," he says, pouring mugs without missing a beat. "Soda, you better hurry it up. Work won't wait forever." I grab a mug of coffee, taking it in stride. Darry watches me pass. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin'," I say, puttin' in my best effort to sound  casual. I stuff a piece of toast in my mouth and walk away. I don't need Darry pokin' at me. I change into jeans and slip into my blue DX button up. I try to shove Lace outta my head for the day, or at least long enough to get through work. Just gotta act natural. Ain't nobody gotta know.

Work at the DX gets pretty repetitive some days. Same smells, same pumps, same faces, and yeah, same girls crowdin' me like in some kinda movie star. "Hey Sodapop!" one of them calls, tossin' her gold hair and emphasizing the P. "Can you check my tires?"

I flash my grin, the one I've used a thousand times before. "Sure thing, darlin'." And I do. Smile, small talk, make 'em laugh, all that jazz. But today's different. Today, I find myself watching them but not really seein' them. I catch myself comparing every last one to Lacey. Their hair, their outfits, even their laughs. They all lack her fire. The way she doesn't even try to be noticed but somehow commands it all anyway. The thought sneaks in and sticks, and I shove it down quick. Ain't got time to be thinkin' like that.

"Uh, Soda?" a girl snaps me outta my daydream, flippin' a hand at me. "My gas tanks empty!"

"Yeah, gotcha," I say, sliding back into my usual smooth mode, but inside I'm restless. Can't shake it. Never done this before. Well, at least not since Sandy. I tell myself to knock it off. She's my best friend. Just my best friend. Ain't nothin' more than that. But then the thought of her hits sgain, and I swear my chest tightens. What if she came in right now? Just for a minute. Just to see me. I'm a mess. I catch myself hopin', like a damn fool, that maybe Lace'll wander in during her break.

I hear the bell above the DX door before I see her. There she is. Lace. In that dress. The blue one she has to wear at the diner. It's collared and goes to just above her knees, with a white apron tied around her waist. She hates its, always complains about it. She looks... I don't even know. Like a lady. Like my ma used to look. The type of dress Sandy would always wear.

And it screws me up.

"Hey, Pepsi," she says, flashing that grin that's all mischief and sunshine, and I try real hard to act normal.

"Hey yourself," I say, tossing a Coke her way. She grabs it, slidin' her fingers around the glass, and I'm just standin' trying not to stare. I've been here a million times, seen her a million ways, joked with her, but something about today... my brain's all scrambled. Not again, Curtis. Not after Sandy, and sure as hell not with Lacey.

She tilts her head at me, sippin' the Coke, and my chest twists. She's my best friend. My buddy. That's all she should be, but my damn heart's racing like a Mustang. I feel like I'm starin' at her for the first time.

"I-uh..." I clear my throat, tryin' to act casual, but my voice sounds too loud, too rough even to me. "You... you look nice."

Her cheeks go pink. "Nice? I hate this dress."

"Doesn't matter," I mumble, draggin' the words out. "You look... beautiful. Real beautiful. Like—like somebody's mama." Real smooth. You idiot.

"Oh gee, somebody's mama, huh?"

"Not in a bad way! You look nice, okay? Can't a guy give a compliment 'round here?"

She laughs, but it's soft, a little unsure. "Thanks Pepsi." I shouldn't have said anything. I can't stop thinkin' about how messed up I am. I'm not good enough. I can't mess things up like I did with Sandy. Especially not with Lacey.

I shake my head, takin' a deep breath. "What time do you get off?"

"Nine."

"Me too. Wanna walk home together?"

She grins. "Sure!"

I grin back like an idiot. "Great! If I'm not over there by the time you're off just meet me here."

She nods and glances down at her watch. Then she frowns. "Well, I gotta go. See ya later Pepsi Cola!" I wave and her wild hair bounces behind her as she walks out the door. My eyes follow her til I can't see her no more.

Closing shifts are always the longest. Steve got off an hour ago, so the DX is as boring as ever. I'm draggin' my feet, countin' the minutes til I'm off. Only thing keepin' me going is knowin' I get to walk home with Lace tonight. Just the thought of her makes the grease under my nails feel a little less greasy. Ugh. What's wrong with me?

I'm out by the pumps, wipin' my hands on a rag, when I hear the sound of tires. A convertible, engine too clean, laughter too sharp. I don't have to look up to know that it ain't a greaser drivin' that car. It's a Soc.

Three of 'em pile out, grins spread wide like they're plottin' somethin'. I keep my head down, tryin' to act like I don't notice. Just another greaser workin' at the DX. Just leave me alone.

But of course they don't.

"Hey, Curtis," one of 'em drawls, flickin' his cigarette butt right near my boot. "Pump my gas, grease monkey. That's all you're good for, ain't it?" I bite the inside of my cheek. Don't talk back. Don't give 'em what they want.

I grab the pump and start fillin' the tank, keepin' my mouth shut. That's when the shove comes. Quick, hard. My shoulder slams into the side of the car. I've never been jumped by the Soc's before. Not alone.

I stagger back and try to laugh it off. "Easy, fellas. Just doin' my job here." They don't listen. Next thing I know, another one clips me across the face. My head jerks, and I taste blood where my teeth cut my lip.

"Look at him," one sneers. "All smiles and jokes. That don't change nothin'. You're still just dirty grease." They're not lookin' to kill me. Just knock me around. That's what Soc's do, mess with guys like me 'cause they got nothin' better to do with their sorry lives. Another shove. I swing back this time. Dumb move, Soda, real dumb. One sock to the jaw, and then it's three on one. Fists.

Laughter. The strong scent of expensive cologne.

I end up on the ground, hand pressed to my eye where it's already swelling. Warm blood slips through my fingers.

"Careful, Curtis," one of 'em says, crouchin' down, voice all mock sweet. "Don't want that pretty face of yours ruined. How else you gonna flirt your way through life?" They pile back in their car and peel out, their laughter echoing through the dark street. I sit there for a second, hand clutched against my eye, chest heaving. My whole body aches, but it's my pride that stings worst. Not 'cause they jumped me—hell, that's just the life of a greaser—But 'cause I gotta walk home with Lacey now. She's gonna see me like this.

I'm leaned over the counter, rag in hand, wipin' circles that don't need wipin'. Truth is, I'm just killin' time 'til Lace shows up. I've been starin' at the door like some lovesick mutt. Pathetic, huh?

The cuts on my face have mostly stopped bleeding now, but they were deeper than I thought and I couldn't stop 'em completely.

Then she walks in. "Hey," I say, puttin' on my best grin, the one girls 'round here would fall for too easy. "Would ya look at that? My favorite customer walkin' through my doors."

She quirks an eyebrow, that smart little smirk on her face. "Favorite? You say that to all the girls, Pepsi."

I chuckle. "Nah, only the ones I mean it for." She rolls her eyes, but I catch the way her cheeks go a little pink. Got her. I'm about to tease her more when her smile falters. She sees it. My eye. The cut. Swollen up some, stingin' less than before, but still ugly.

"Soda..." she says it low, serious, all the light gone outta her voice. "What happened?"

I shrug, tossin' the rag down like it don't matter. "Just some Soc's lookin' for a good time. You know how it is, nothin' big. I think it makes me look tougher, don't you?"

She doesn't laugh. Not even a smile. Instead, she marches behind the counter, grabs the first aide kit, and hops up onto the counter like she owns the place. Skirts herself right up there, legs swingin, patting the spot in front of her. "C'mere."

"Bossy, ain't ya?" I joke, but my heart's hammerin'. Still, I obey.

Now I'm standin' between her knees, starin' up at her like she's sittin' on a throne. She pops open the kit, pulls out some antiseptic and cotton.

Then her hands, small but steady, come up to my face, tiltin' me just so. "This might hurt for a second," she whispers. But I ain't hearin' it. Not really. I'm too caught on her breath fannin' my cheek, too lost in her focused brown eyes lookin' right into me like she can hear everything I'm thinkin'. Her hair falls forward, brushin' my temple, and I swear, I forget how to breathe.

She dabs the cut, and yeah, it stings, but hell if I notice. All I know is Lacey is close. Closer than she's ever been, and my chest feels like it's gonna burst.

She patches me up quick, smoothin' the bandage over gentle as anything. Then she leans in and presses a kiss right to it. It's soft. Quick.

Her hands are still cuppin' my face, thumbs brushin' my jaw like she don't even realize it. Her eyes flick to mine, wide, scared maybe. Or surprised. My heart's doin' somersaults, tellin' me to stop and go all at once. But I can't stop. Not now.

So I lean in, slow, careful. Like if I spook her, she'll vanish. Our lips brush, and it's nothin' like I pictured, 'cause I never dared picture it. It's sweet. Sacred. New.

For a second, I think she might pull back. Her body goes tense. But then, oh God, she melts.

Her legs wrap around my waist, pullin' me closer. Her fingers slide into my hair, sendin' a shiver all the way down my spine. She's kissin' me back. Kissin' me back good. And it's like the whole damn world tilts sideways.

She tastes like Coke and sugar, and right then, I know I'm in trouble. Big trouble. 'Cause Lacey Cade sure as hell ain't just my buddy anymore.

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Lacey Cade returns to Tulsa following her big brother, Johnnys death. She finds a family in the greasers, and as she navigates grief, she al

[pepsicola-love]

Motor Oil and Cigarette Smoke - Lacey Cade:

I balance a tray on one hip, snatch up a couple of empty glasses, and wipe down the counter in one motion. The Diner's been slow this morning, just a few regulars hanging over their coffee cups. I don't mind slow. Gives me time to slip out the back door once I'm off shift and swing by the DX.

The air smells like oil and gas before I even reach the corner. It's a familiar scent, practically Soda and Steve's cologne. Steve's half under a car, grease smeared up his legs like war paint. I lean against the pole and whistle low.

"Well, look at you, Randle," I call. "Shiniest legs in Tulsa."

He bangs his head on the underside of the hood. "Dammit, Lacey." Steve wriggles out, glaring up at me, hair sticking to his forehead. "You tryin' to kill me? What are you even doin' here?"

"Sayin' hi," I shrug, flashing him a grin.

He wipes his hands on a rag, smirk tugging at his mouth. "You got nothin' better to do than bother honest workin' men?"

I snort. "Honest workin' men? Where?" Steve barks a laugh, but before he can come back with something smart, I spot Soda by the pumps. Course he's got a crowd of girls hanging off him, all giggly like they've never seen a boy with good hair before. He's flashing that movie star smile, leaning casual, all charm. Then his eyes find mine, and just like that, he forgets about his fan club.

"Hey, Lace!" he calls, jogging over. The girls shoot me looks sharp enough to cut glass. I just smile sweet and innocent, like I don't notice.

"Hey yourself," I say as Soda slings an arm around my shoulders. His shirt smells like gas and sunshine and maybe a little sugar too. "Don't you got customers?"

"They'll live," he says easy, and Steve rolls his eyes.

"You two make me sick," Steve mutters. "It's like watchin' a couple'a puppies. Don't you got work, Cade?" He gestures at the ridiculous blue dress they make me wear at the diner.

"I do, just finished," I shoot back.

Soda gives my shoulders a squeeze, steering me toward the little bench out front. "C'mon, you look beat." The girls across the lot are still glaring holes in me, whispering behind their manicured hands, but Soda doesn't even notice. Or maybe he does, and he just doesn't care. Either way, he's grinning at me like I'm the only thing that matters, and it feels good. Best friends or not, there ain't nobody in the world who makes me feel safer than Sodapop Curtis.

He stretches his legs out, leaning back, easy as anything.

"You work too hard," he says, looking me over with that smile. "Bet you didn't even eat breakfast."

I nudge him with my shoulder. "I made breakfast for all of you yesterday, remember? Pretty sure I'm just still recoverin' from cookin' enough bacon to feed an army."

He grins, teeth white against his tanned skin. "Best breakfast I ever had."

"You say that every time I cook."

"That's 'cause it's true every time." I roll my eyes, but I can't help the little laugh that slips out.

Before I can answer, Steve comes swaggering out, wiping his hands again like he's some kinda king of the garage. "Look at this," he says, smirking at us. "Tulsa's cutest married couple. Want me to get you a ring, Soda?"

Soda doesn't miss a beat. "Nah, Lace'd pick somethin' prettier than you ever could."

Steve barks out a laugh. "Lord save me. You two are insufferable." He squints at me then, curious. "Why d'you even hang around us greaseballs all the time? Don't you got friends wearin' pearls and sweaters somewhere?" I did, but not here. Only back in Texas.

I smirk. "What, and miss all this fun? You and Soda are better entertainment than any TV set."

"Entertainment, huh?" Steve leans against the doorframe, looking smug. "Yeah, I guess I'm good for a laugh."

"You said it, not me." Soda chuckles so hard he almost doubles over, and Steve flips me off half-heartedly. Truth is, I like it here. Way better than any pearls and sweaters I got back in Texas.

The fan club of girls is still hanging around the pumps, pretending not to watch us, and I lean closer to Soda so they can see real good. "You're in trouble, Curtis. They're planning my funeral."

He shrugs, lazy grin still plastered on his face.

"Guess I'll have to walk ya home after work. Keep you safe from the jealous mob."

Steve groans. "Sweet Jesus, I'm gonna be sick. Can't you two quit it for five seconds?"

"Nope," Soda and I say at the same time, and then we're both laughing like fools.

Soda walks me home like he promised, hands in his pockets, whistling low like he ain't got a care in the world. I tell him he's gonna wear his lips clean off one day if he keeps at it, and he just laughs.

By the time we reach the house, Sammy's already home from school. She's sitting cross-legged on the couch, hair all messy from the bows she pulls out halfway through the day, and her little face looks scrunched up. "What's wrong, bug?" I ask, dropping my bag on the chair.

She shrugs, but her chin wobbles. "Nothin'."

Soda crouches right down in front of her. "C'mon, sweetheart. Nothin' don't make a face look like that."

Finally, she huffs. "Some soc kid said I smell like cigarettes. Said I'll never smell pretty 'cause I live with grease."

My chest twists. I sit beside her and tuck her hair behind her ear. "Sammy, you are the prettiest little girl in all of Tulsa. Don't matter what no soc says, that ain't changing"

But she just shakes her head, lip trembling. "I-I... I just want Darry!" She's crying now.

Soda's eyebrows shoot up, and then he bites down on a smile. "You want Superman, huh?" he teases gently.

She nods quick, like the word's been stuck in her throat all day. "Darry always makes it better. He's strong. He don't care what anyone says." I glance at Soda, and he gives me this look like well, can't argue with that. So we walk next door to the Curtis place. Sure enough, the whole gang's there. Two-Buts sprawled on the couch with a comic book, Pony's fiddling with the TV, and Steve's searching the fridge like it's his own.

Sammy lights up the second Darry steps out from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a rag.

"Superman!" she squeals, barreling into him.

He catches her easy, hoisting her onto his hip like she weighs nothing. "Hey, kiddo. Rough day?" She's nods, burying her face in his shirt, and I swear Darry's eyes soften like he's been waiting for this all day.

Before long, Two-Bit pipes up. "Hey, party at Shepards tonight. Big one. You kids comin'?" Steve whoops. Soda elbows me like I don't already know he's gonna drag me along.

Darry clears his throat. "Someone's gotta keep an eye on Sammy. You all go on, she'll hang here with me."

Sammy leans back just enough to beam at him, already more herself. "See? Told ya Superman makes everything better!" The boys laugh, Soda ruffles her hair, and just like that, the weight she carried home melts clean away.

The Shepard house is already thumping by the time we get there, bass from somebody's borrowed radio rattling through the porch boards. Smoke curls thick in the air, and the whole yard's scattered with kids laughing, drinking, and making fools of themselves.

Soda's beside me, grinning. He's got that easy charm turned up to full volume, and it's no surprise the girls spot him right away. I swear half the party lines up to get his attention.

"Hey, Sodapop! Dance with me!" one of them squeals, grabbing his arm. Soda, unable to say no, follows her to the dance floor.

Two-Bit finds me quick, a beer in one hand and a stupid grin plastered across his face. "Fellas, meet my future wife," he declares, jerking a thumb at me. I roll my eyes, but he's already bowing like I'm some kind of princess. "Ain't she gorgeous? Gonna make me the happiest fool alive."

Steve snorts from behind him. "Future wife? Keep at it and it'll be more like future restraining order." He tips his drink back, smirking.

"Aw, c'mon, Lacey loves me," Two-Bit insists, winking my way.

"Sure, sure," I say dryly. "You keep tellin' yourself that, Matthew's." They bust up laughing.

Across the room, Pony's leaning on the wall near Cherry. She's talking, flipping her red hair over her shoulder. Pony nods along, listening more than commenting.

The music cranks up louder, and Soda lets out a whoop, pulling me toward the middle of the room. "C'mon, Lace! Let's show these people how it's done."

"I can't dance!" I protest, but he doesn't hear it, or pretends not to. Next thing I know, he's spinning me in a sloppy circle, laughing so hard his head falls back. The crowd parts a little, clapping and egging us on, and I can't help but laugh too, tripping over my feet but letting him drag me along anyway.

"See?" He grins, steadying me. "You're a natural."

I shove at him, trying not to smile. "You're ridiculous."

"Yeah, but I'm fun," he shoots back, and before I can argue, he twirls me again. For a moment it's just us, and I swear Soda could make anyone feel like the center of the universe. And maybe that's the magic of him. He's everybody's golden boy.

The walk home is loud. Two-Bit's still cracking jokes at top volume, Steve's teasing him about being hopeless, and even Pony, quiet as he's been, manages a half smile at something Cherry says. We're all buzzing off leftover music and adrenaline, the night air sharp but not enough to cool us down. It's full greaser energy. Laughter bouncing off the streetlight's, shoulders bumping, somebody singing off key just because.

By the time we pile into the Curtis house, it's late enough the world seems hushed. The first thing we see is Darry and Sammy on the couch.

Sammy's curled in Darry's lap with a picture book open, and he's reading in a low, steady voice  while Sammy hangs on every word. It's the most wholesome thing this house has ever seen. Sammy looks up when she hears us and groans. "Already? Lacey! Can Darry read me to sleep tonight, please?!"

I glance at Darry for approval, but he just raises his brows like he's waiting for the verdict. "You're not sick of him yet?" I tease.

Sammy shakes her head so hard her curls bounce. "Never!"

"Well then," I sigh dramatically, "I suppose he can." Sammy cheers and hugs me, then drags Darry out the door. One by one, the boys disappear. Two-Bit mumbles something about being beat, Steve wanders out the door, and Pony heads straight to bed. Pretty soon it's just me and Soda left in the quiet living room. It's a mess. Crayons, books, Sammy's little blanket tossed aside. I start tidying without thinking. I'm stacking things back on the shelf when Soda leans in the doorway, grinning.

"You know," he says casually, "you were pretty good tonight"

I blink at him. "Good?"

"Dancin'," he clarifies. "Didn't know you had moves like that, Lacey Cade."

I duck my head, brushing it off. "I don't. That was all you draggin' me around like a rag doll."

"Nah," he drawls, pushing off the doorway. "You kept up. More than kept up." I laugh and turn back to straightening the blanket, but before I can fold it, his hands are suddenly at my waist.

"Soda—"

"Shh." He twists me to face him and starts swaying us side to side, no music this time, just the hum of the old fridge in the kitchen. His grin's softer now, like this is some secret he's letting me in on. "See? Told ya. Natural." It's gentle, not like the wild spinning at the party. Just the two of us, feet brushing against the carpet, his thumbs tapping lightly against my sides.

I try to keep it light, to tease him, but something about the way he's looking at me—half mischief, half something steadier—makes it hard to breathe. This is Soda, my best friend. The boy who's always been sunshine and laughter and safety. He's sweet-talked me a thousand times, but for some reason, tonight it doesn't feel like a joke anymore. It feels... different. Strange. And I don't know what to do with that.

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Lacey Cade returns to Tulsa following her big brother, Johnnys death. She finds a family in the greasers, and as she navigates grief, she al

[pepsicola-love]

Pepsi Cola - Sodapop Curtis

Sodapop Curtis:

Ain't no sound I like better than the gang raisin' hell in the yard. Pony's grinnin', Two-Bit's gaspin' like he just ran a marathon, Steve's callin' him a baby, and Darry's tryin' real hard to look mad about it but I can see the smirk he's hidin'. Whole place feels alive when it's like this.

And then there's Lacey Cade. She's standin' there bent over, hair all wild and wavy, black as midnight and stickin' out in every direction. Looks just like Johnny when she scrunches her nose like that, only thing is, she ain't quiet and cautious like Johnny was. She's firecracker reckless, and it's somethin' else watchin' her laugh. That old denim jackets hangin off her shoulders, same one Dal gave Johnny way back when. First time she showed up wearin' it, I about swallowed my tongue. It's eerie, seein' her in it. Like Johnny's ghost just strolled into the yard. I try not to think too hard on it. Don't do me no good.

I sling an arm 'round her neck like always, tug her close 'til she swats me off. "You're losin' your touch, Lace."

She snorts, flickin' her hair outta her face. "You're full of it, Pepsi Cola."

She's the only one who calls me Pepsi Cola aside from Darry sometimes. She heard my dad call me that way back and I guess she just decided it was my name. I don't mind though, I'd let her call me worse.

She pushes my arm off and goes to sit on the porch step beside Pony. They're about the same age and have always gotten along alright. I watch her a second longer than I should before lookin' away. Ain't like I'm sweet on her or nothin'. She's my buddy, same as Steve or Two-Bit, only prettier. And tuffer than any one of them.

Steve jabs me in the ribs. "Quit starin', lover boy."

I shove him back hard enough he nearly trips into the grass. "Shut your trap, man. She's like my kid sister."

He raises his brows, all smug. "Uh-huh." I roll my eyes. Shouldn't bug me, Steve runnin' his mouth, but it does a little. Maybe 'cause I don't want Lacey thinkin' I'm lookin' at her like that.

Lacey pops up off the step, brushing dirt off her jeans. "C'mon, Pepsi Cola," she calls, jerking her head towards the street. "You're buying me a Coke."

I shout back, "And why would I do that?"

"Cause I'm making a mean chocolate cake tonight and I know you're gonna want some." Can't argue with that. She's already halfway down the walk, jacket flappin' behind her.

I jog to catch up, shoving' my hands in my back pockets. "If I'm buyin', I'm pickin' the flavor."

She shoots me a look sharp as glass. "Ain't a flavor. It's Coke."

"Cherry Coke's a flavor," I grin.

"A lousy one."

We're still bickering when we hit the DX. Inside smells like motor oil and grease, like home. I duck behind the counter, grab two bottles, and toss one her way. She catches it clean. Girl's reckless, but her reflexes are sharp.

She leans back against the counter, twisting the cap off. "Y'know, you're lucky I keep you around. Any other guy'd have lost his teeth runnin' his mouth at me like you do." Lacey acts really tough, and part of her definitely is, but I know she's more bark than bite.

I smirk, leaning next to her. "Oh yeah? Why don't you?"

She takes a long drink, eyes sparklin' over the bottle rim. "Guess I like hearin' you talk too much." I laugh. That's Lacey, tossin' a line that could sound sweet if you let it, only she never means it that way. Least I don't think she does.

We drink our Cokes in easy silence for a bit. I watch her mess with the edge of her jacket sleeve, and for half a second, I swear I see Johnny. My throat tightens, but I swallow it down quick. Don't need her catchin' me gettin' soft.

She gives me a look. "What's wrong?"

I shake my head, "Oh, nothin'."

Then she bumps her shoulder against mine. "Good. Don't go all serious on me, Pepsi. Ain't your color." I grin, just like she wants, and sling an arm 'round her again, tighter this time.

After a long shift at the DX, I'm finally home. Pony's in his room, and Darry's fixin' supper. Ain't much more than pork chops and beans, but it smells good after runnin' around all afternoon. When Lacey gets here, she don't even wait for Darry to bark orders. She drapes her jacket on the chair and shoulders him outta the way like she owns the place. "You're gonna burn that, Darrel Curtis. Step aside."

Darry raises his brows, but doesn't argue. Just grabs the rag off the counter and wipes his hand, muttering a thank you. Anyone can see that Darry really appreciates Lacey. She's always offerin' help and lettin' him take a rest. Place has been cleaner since she started comin' round again. Dishes stacked instead of piled, floors swept. Not spotless, but halfway decent. Lacey's got a way of keepin' us boys in line. She don't ask, just demands, and then suddenly we're all toein' the line like she's wearin' a crown. Greasers' princess, that's what Two-Bit calls her when he's had too many.

Sammy's at the table, legs kickin' against the chair, singin' some nonsense tune she made up 'bout beans bein' magic. Seven years old and trouble with a capital T. Girl looks just like Johnny too. Same dark eyes and grin. Hell, all of those Cade kids are identical.

"Beans, beans, magic beans," she sings louder, bangin' her spoon on the table.

"Kid," Steve groans, droppin' into a seat, "you're gonna crack my eardrums." Steve's never much good with kids.

She just sticks her tongue out, then leans on Pony's shoulder like he's her favorite pillow. "Pony likes my song. Don't you, Pony?"

Pony shrugs, smilin' all soft. "Guess I do."

I plop down across from her and swipe the spoon outta her hand. "What you need is manners."

"What I need is Soda to mind his own business," she shoots back, smug as anything. The whole table cracks up. Darry's smilin' as he sets plates down, and Lacey's shakin' her head over the stove laughin'.

"Sammy Cade, you hush up and say thank you for dinner," Lacey orders, pointin' the spatula at her.

Sammy crosses her arms. "You ain't my mama."

Lacey leans down, eyes narrowin'. "No, but I'll whoop you like one if you keep on." Sammy just laughs. Everyone knows Lacey would never lay a hand on her. Not after what their folks put them through.

We're loud, like always. You'd think eatin' dinner was some kind of sportin' event the way we carry on. Forks clank, voices climb over each other, and every bite of food is gone if you don't get to it quick enough. Two-Bit's got Sammy practically rollin' in her seat with a story about how he once stole a cop's hat right off his head. "I swear to you," he says, mouth full, "the guy was standin' there lookin' cross as thunder, and I just whoop, snatched it and ran. Thought he was gonna drop dead chasin' me."

Sammy's laughin' so hard she nearly spills her milk. "You didn't!"

"Oh, I did," Two-Bit nods, deadly serious, then grins wide. "Still got it hangin' on my wall."

Sammy's eyes are wide and excited. "Cool!"

"Don't encourage him," Lacey says, but even she's laughin'. "Sammy, don't you dare grow up thinkin' that's cute."

"Too late," Sammy chirps. "It's hilarious."

Lacey elbows Darrel, "C'mon, Darry, back me up."

He shrugs, playin' along. "She's your kid sister." I lean back, watchin' 'em all with that warm buzz in my chest. Sammy's worse than any of us were at nine, but damn is she spoiled, and it shows. She's got every one of us wrapped 'round her little finger, Johnny's eyes flashin' in her face makin' it impossible to tell the kid no.

She turns those eyes on me now. "Soda, tell me somethin' funny."

I grin. "What, Two-Bit ain't enough for you?"

"I want you to," she insists, kickin' my shin under the table. So I launch into some fool story 'bout work, how some guy tried to wash his windshield with motor oil instead of water, and the whole gang's laughin' before I even get to the punchline. Sammy claps like I just put on a circus show.

After dinner, Lacey brings out the chocolate cake she promised me earlier. It's rich and perfect. Two-Bit swears he's gonna marry her on the spot., and Lacey just laughs, shakin' her head. By the time plates are licked clean, the gang's settled in the living room with the TV hummin' low. The glow of it bounces off everyone's faces, shadows soft in the lamplight. Sammy climbs right up onto the couch next to me, curling' herself into my side. I wrap my arm around her tiny frame, and before long her head's heavy on my chest. She smells like soap and sugar, and I can feel her little breaths against me as she drifts.

"She says you give the best cuddles," Lacey teases from the armchair, eyes bright but soft.

"Well," I grin, shiftin' the blanket over Sammy, "she's got good taste."

The program runs on, half of us laughin', the other half dozin'. When the credits roll, Darry flicks off the TV, and I get up careful with Sammy still sleepin'. She don't stir as I carry her, light as a feather, to her house and into her room. Lacey walks beside me, her arm brushin' mine, keepin' quiet so Sammy don't wake.

I lay the kid down, tuckin' the blanket up under her chin. She curls deeper into the pillow, safe as can be. I plant a kiss on her forehead.

"Thanks, Soda," Lacey whispers once we're back in the hall. There's a warmth 'bout her smile that makes me wanna grin right back. She leans in and kisses my cheek. Just easy, friendly, the way she always does. "Couldn't do it without you."

"Sure you could," I say, but my voice is softer than I mean it to be. We step out onto the porch, night air cool against the quiet. I watch her head inside, her laughter floatin' back as she says goodnight.

The smell hits us before we're even halfway across the yard; bacon, biscuits, and somethin' sweet and warm that makes my stomach growl. Lacey's gone and done it again, the whole spread laid out neat on the table when we crowd into her kitchen. Eggs piled high, sausage links stacked like firewood, and a basket of blueberry muffins right in the middle.

Sammy's already in her school dress, legs swingin' under the chair as she kicks at the rung. "Lacey," she says with a mouthful of muffin, "You are the best cook in the whole wide world."

"Better not let Darry hear that," Pony laughs, piling three biscuits on his plate.

Sammy just shrugs, crumbs on her rosy cheeks. "He's good at pancakes, but Lacey's good at everything." The kid's got a way of sayin' things that make even Darry laugh instead of scowl. It's her first day of real school, and she's practically bouncin' in her seat, all chatter about crayons and playgrounds.

When we finally set out, the whole gang trailin' down the block, she slips her little hand into Darry's and tilts her head up at him. "You know what, Superman?"

Darry smiles, "What?"

"I'm gonna tell all the kids at school you're my boyfriend."

We all bust out laughin', even Darry, though he turns pink. "I think you're a little young for me, squirt," He says, but she just beams.

"Don't worry, I'll grow up fast." He's shakes his head, but next thing I know she's squealin', "Piggyback, Superman! Please!" and Darry actually crouches down. Up she goes, squeals echoin' through the street, her little arms wrapped around his neck. She's so tiny against him. Darry's tough, but little Sammy brings out the softest side of him. All of us got a soft spot for Sammy—it's hard not to. With those eyes and smile identical to her brothers. Shes louder than him, though. Johnny always said she'd grow up to be trouble, and damn, was he right. Raised by greasers, no doubt about it.

When we reach the school, she hops down, plants her hands on her hips, and salutes at us. "Don't worry boys," she calls. "I got this."

We're still laughin' as she plants a kiss on Darry's hand and trots off towards the doors, her little pigtails bouncin' behind her. I catch the way Lacey chews her lip, her arms folded tight. She don't let it show much, but I know her well enough to know she's stressin'.

"You scared?" I say, nudgin' her shoulder.

She shrugs, eyes never leavin' Sammy's back. "She's just... too sweet. Those Soc kids'll eat her alive. She don't deserve that."

"Hey." I keep my voice soft, steady. "That kid's tuff as nails. And if anyone messes with her, they'll have hell to pay from us." That earns me a little smile, but it don't quite reach her eyes. So at my lunch break, I swing by her house, and sure enough she's fussin' around the kitchen like she can scrub the worry right outta the countertops.

"C'mon," I tell her, snaggin' her wrist. "You're comin' with me."

She blinks up at me. "Where?"

"Dairy Queen. My treat. You can't fret on an empty stomach."

So we sit outside, sun warm on our shoulders, her with a burger and me with a shake, and I just keep the talk light. Silly stuff—Two-Bit's latest scheme, Steve tryin' to pick up on girls at work, Pony's new haircut. Slowly, her shoulders ease down, and she even laughs. "She's gonna be okay," I say again, more certain.

And she nods. "Thanks, Soda. I'm feelin' better 'bout it now."

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Lacey Cade returns to Tulsa following her big brother, Johnnys death. She finds a family in the greasers, and as she navigates grief, she al

[pepsicola-love]

The Boys Next Door - Lacey Cade:

I hear the boys before I see them. Laughter, shouts, the occasional bark of a dog. Our corner of Tulsa hasn't changed much in four years. It's still chaos, still home. I peek out the window and smile softly. They're all sprawled across the yard like they always have been. Ponyboy's sitting on the hood of the beat-up Chevy, flipping through a tattered notebook. Darry is planted like a lighthouse, and Two-Bit is stretched out on a lawn chair, listening to something Steve is saying. Then there's Soda, running a hand through his dark hair and grinning per usual. But even now, even with the sun warm on the grass and their voices spilling across the yard, I can feel the missing pieces. Johnny's shy smile. Dally's wild spark. The world doesn't feel the same without them, and I don't think it ever will.

Still, if I've learned anything these past few years, it's this: life doesn't stop just because your heart does.

I slip on my sneakers and push open the front door, letting the afternoon sun spill across my face and taking a deep breath. "Hey greasers!" I call, striding across the yard.

Two-Bit shoots me a grin from his chair. "Well, if it isn't Lacey Juliana Cade. Finally decided to join the party?"

I shoot him a look. "Please never use my full name again or I'll skin you."

He throws his hands up in defense. "Just tryin' something new."

Soda, my best friend, comes jogging over, hair sticking up in that perfect mess that somehow looks intentional. He slings an arm around me like he's done a million times. "There's my Lucky," he says with a movie star grin that could start wars and end them too.

I arch an eyebrow. "Lucky?"

"Lucky Lacey," he teases, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "Lucky you getta hang out with me all the time."

"You mean unlucky," Steve mutters from the steps, earning a snort from Pony.

I glance up at Soda, rolling my eyes. "You're a real piece of work, Pepsi Cola."

He laughs, loud and bright, the sound I swear could bring the dead back to life. "See, that's why we keep you around, Lacey Loo, Someone's gotta keep me humble." Soda comes up with a new nickname for me about every ten minutes, but none of them have been good enough to stick.

"Not doing a great job of it," Darry calls, though there's the tiniest curve of a smile at his mouth.

Two-Bit claps his hands. "Alright, alright, enough with the stupid nicknames. Who's up for a race to the corner and back? I'm feelin' spry."

"Spry?" Steve echoes, standing to stretch. "You pulled your back last week getting off the couch."

Two-Bit punches his arm. "Whatever. Loser pays for ice cream."

Before I can blink, Soda's tugging my hand, pulling me toward the street. His grin dares me to keep up. "Come on, Lucky. Let's show 'em how it's done." And just like that, I'm sprinting across the yard, laughter chasing us, the boys yelling behind. My sneakers hit the pavement, wind stings my face, and for a moment it feels like the world hasn't lost a thing. We tear off down the street, his long stride already giving him the advantage, but I manage to stay pretty close behind. Soda keeps glancing sideways at me like he's checking to see if I'll give up.

"Don't you dare go easy on me, Pepsi Cola!" I huff, pumping my arms.

He grins wider. "Wouldn't dream of it, Texas."

Behind us, Two-Bit is already wheezing, shouting something about how his lungs aren't built for this. Steve barrels past him, determined not to lose face. Ponyboy lags just far enough behind to stay out of the madness, but he's smiling.

The corner comes fast. Soda skids, grabbing the stop sign like a swing, and rockets back the way we came. I nearly trip but recover, adrenaline pushing me forward. By the time the Curtis house comes back into view, Darry's standing in the yard, arms crossed, jaw tight, but his eyes are crinkled in a way that gives him away.

Soda reaches the porch first and throws his arms up in victory. I stumble in right after, bent over, gasping for air.

"Not fair," I pant. "Your legs are like a mile long."

"Oh, stop being a sore loser," He ruffles my hair with that stupid grin, and I swat at him.

Two-Bit collapses on the grass, groaning dramatically. "Tell my mother I love her."

Steve gives him a kick. "You don't even like your mother."

Pony finally jogs up, shaking his head. "Y'all are ridiculous. And I ain't buying ice cream."

Soda's still glowing with that boyish pride, bouncing on his toes like he could run the whole block again. He leans close, his voice warm. "You almost had me, you know."

I give him a crooked smile. "Oh, I know. I just didn't wanna damage your ego." Pony, Two-Bit, and Steve burst into laughter over something one of them said. Darry shakes his head like he's too old for this nonsense, and everything feels weightless. It's the golden kind of joy that only comes when the whole world narrows down to this: sunlight, shouting, and the greasers.

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Lacey Cade returns to Tulsa following her big brother, Johnnys death. She finds a family in the greasers, and as she navigates grief, she al

[pepsicola-love]

Ghosts - Lacey Cade

For two years, Texas was supposed to be home. Aunt Amy gave me and Sammy more kindness than we'd ever known. New clothes, warm meals, even a school with big classrooms and neat uniforms. It was safe there. Sammy was only three, too young to remember much of the life we'd escaped, and she grew up with a real mother figure. I told myself that's what mattered. That we were better off. But I never stopped missing Tulsa. I never stopped missing Johnny.

His letters came steady at first. Messy handwriting scrawled across notebook paper, full of the little things: how Pony was doing in school, Soda's antics, and how Dally was, in his own way, looking out for him. Those letters were my lifeline. Proof that my brother was still out there somewhere, still fighting.

Until the day I tore one open and the handwriting wasn't his. It was Darrel's.

Dally was gone. And Johnny too. Dead. Gone. And I never got to say goodbye.

I don't remember much after that, just Aunt Amy holding me while I screamed, and the sick panic of rushing to pack, to get on the first flight back. I'll never forget walking into that funeral home.

The air was thick with flowers, sharp and cloying, like they were trying to cover up the real tragedy. Like Johnny had covered the truth from me for two years. And there he was. Johnny. My sweet brother. Lying still in that stupid coffin. Only it didn't look like him. His face was swollen in places, sunken in others. His skin was marbled red and black, burned so badly it looked like cracked leather. There were scars carved across his face, stories I didn't know and still don't, because no one will tell me. His lips were pale, eyes closed forever. I searched his face for the boy who used to smile shy and soft at me, the boy who once swore Dally would look out for him, the boy who promised he'd be safe.

But all I saw was a stranger.

I wanted to scream again. To shake him, demand him to wake up, demand answers from the boys who stood stiff and silent beside me. But the only sound that came out of me was a broken sob.

Darry was the first one I saw that day. His jaw was locked tight, arms crossed, his whole body trembling with the effort of keeping it together. When his eyes landed on me and Sammy, for the first time in my life, I saw him break. He looked away fast, but not before I caught the glassy shine of tears.

Soda didn't try to hide anything. He pulled me into his arms the second I walked in, burying his face in my hair and sobbing like I'd never heard him sob before. His shoulders shook, and his voice cracked against my ear: "I'm so sorry, Lace. I'm so sorry."

Two-Bit just shook his head, muttering curses under his breath as he dragged a hand down his face, his eyes red.

Steve kept his distance, but I saw his fists clench and unclench, his teeth grinding like he was one second away from punching the wall just to feel something other than grief.

And Pony... Pony looked the youngest I'd ever seen him. His eyes were wide, wet, staring at Johnny's body like he couldn't believe it. When I walked past him he shuttered. "God, you look like him." Then he grabbed my hand so tightly my knuckles went white.

Dally wasn't there. He was already gone, the way Darry's letter had said.

Johnny lived a whole two years of pain I knew nothing about, and may never know. The gang doesn't like talking about it much.

After the funeral, Aunt Amy begged us to come back with her. But I couldn't. Leaving Tulsa would've felt like leaving Johnny behind for good. So she left money for a little house, and me and Sammy stayed. Right next door to the Curtis boys.

Four years have passed since Johnny first put us in that car and sent us away. Two years since I buried the one person who ever made me feel safe in this world. Somehow, I'm still here.

The ache is always there, a dull throb in my chest. But I've learned to live with it, the way you live with an old scar. I've learned that it's okay to feel joy. That he would've wanted that.

If you want to read more follow along or check out the link below!

Lacey Cade returns to Tulsa following her big brother, Johnnys death. She finds a family in the greasers, and as she navigates grief, she al

[pepsicola-love]

Prologue - Lacey Cade

I know I am going to die tonight.

Dad's hands are on me again, his fists swinging like I'm nothing but a punching bag. Sammy's screams are sharp enough to tear my ears in half. She's only three. She doesn't understand that the more noise she makes, the harder he hits. My face is hot and wet with blood, and I can't even tell if it's from my nose or mouth anymore. All I know is that the room tilts when I try to stand, and my ribs burn with every breath.

"Shut her up!" Dad slurs, his breath sharp with whiskey. His boot swings out, catching Sammy's side, and she folds in on herself like a rag doll. Something inside me rips open. "Stop!" My voice cracks.

And then Johnny is there. My big brother—my quiet, fragile Johnny who everyone calls scared—isn't scared now. He steps between us and Dad with his fists balled, his skinny shoulders squared like they could hold up the whole world. His dark eyes burn hotter than I've ever seen. "Stop it, Dad!" Johnny's voice slices through the chaos. For one awful second, I think Dad's going to turn on him too, but Johnny doesn't flinch. "You lay another hand on her and I swear—" The words don't even finish before Dad lunges. His fist pulls back like a hammer, but Johnny moves faster. There's a sickening crack when Johnny's knuckles meet Dad's jaw. Dad stumbles, stares blankly like he can't believe it, then collapses against the coffee table. The lamp crashes to the floor. Glass shatters everywhere.

The room goes silent. My own breath sounds like thunder in my ears. Johnny stands frozen, chest heaving, staring down at the man we're supposed to call our father. Johnny doesn't waste a second. He grabs me by the arm, his hands shaking, and hauls me to my feet. "Get Sammy," he orders, his voice breaking. Sammy's crying so hard she can barely breathe, but I pull her close, whispering that it's okay, even though it's not, even though nothing will ever be okay again.

Johnny's stuffing things into the torn schoolbag he keeps under his bed. My sweater, Sammy's stuffed rabbit, a loaf of bread from the counter. My body moves on autopilot even though everything hurts, numb but fast, because I know what happens when Dad wakes up.

We slip into the night, our footsteps pounding against the pavement. The cool air hits my skin, stinging where bruises are starting to bloom. Behind us the house is quiet, but Dad won't stay down forever. Johnny doesn't look back. His jaw is set, and he clutches my hand so tight it hurts. His knuckles are split and bleeding. We run until my lungs burn, until Sammy's sobs quiet against my shoulder, until we're standing in the driveway of the Curtis house.

I finally collapse. My knees hit the gravel hard, and Sammy folds against me, both of us sobbing. Johnny's chest is heaving, his face pale and wild. "Johnny..." My voice is small, broken.

He crouches in front of me, his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. His eyes are wet but steady. "I'm not gonna let him hurt you no more. You hear me, Lace? Never again. I promise." I nod, choking on a sob. Somewhere inside, I know he's lying. Not because he doesn't mean it, but because in our world, promises like that don't last. Johnny pulls me up again, his arm steady even though he's trembling. "C'mon. We're goin' inside. I need to make a call."

My legs feel like wet noodles, but I let him guide me up the porch steps. The door opens before we even knock. Darry's standing there, tall and fierce, but the moment his eyes land on us, on Sammy with her swollen cheek and tear-streaked face, something in him shatters. "Oh God," he mutters, and then he's reaching for her, his big arms scooping her up like she's made of glass. Sammy buries her face into his chest, hiccuping through sobs, and Darry just holds her tighter, his jaw clenched like he's trying not to cry. "You're safe now, kiddo. I got you. I promise." Promise. That stupid word. That impossible word. It breaks something inside of me. My knees buckle, and the world tilts again.

"Lacey!" Johnny's voice is frantic, but before I hit the floor, Dally's there. His arms are rough but careful, sliding under me like I weigh nothing. His leather jacket smells like smoke and whiskey, but his grip is steady, protective. He's not usually soft like this. Just for me and my siblings.

Dally's jaw is tight, eyes flashing with a fury I've only ever seen in a fight, but when he looks down at me his voice is almost gentle. "You're alright, kid. I gotcha." I snuggle into him.

He carries me inside and sets me down on the worn couch. Before I can even breathe, Soda's there. My best friend. His arms wrap around me, pulling me against his chest, and I melt into him because I don't have the strength to hold myself up anymore. His shirt soaks up my blood and tears, but he doesn't flinch. His hand rubs circles on my back, his voice soft against my ear. "You're safe now, Lace. I swear. You're safe."

Dally and Pony are suddenly crouched beside me, fussing with a damp rag, brushing dirt and blood off my skin. Dally's movements are surprisingly careful, like he's afraid I'll break if he presses too hard. "It's alright, doll. We're gonna getcha all cleaned up."

Pony's face is pale, his eyes wide and shining, but he doesn't say a word. He just works, wiping my scraped hands, brushing glass out of my hair.

Through all of it, Johnny's gone still. He's standing by the phone in the corner, his voice low and urgent. I can't hear the words, can't even tell who he's talking to, but the way his shoulders are trembling scares me. I lean into Soda's chest, my body heavy, eyes dragging. The voices around me blur together. Sammy's muffled sobs in Darry's shirt, Dally's muttered curses, Pony's quick breaths. But all I can really hear is Johnny's voice, breaking in a way I've never heard before. That's when I know. After tonight, nothing will ever be the same again. I'm terrified for what comes next.

Johnny shakes me awake while it's still dark, the house quiet except for Soda's soft breathing from the floor beside the couch. My whole body aches, but the look on Johnny's face makes my stomach twist worse than the pain. "Lace," he whispers, crouching next to me. "Get up. Aunt Amy's almost here. She drove all night."

It takes me a second to understand. My eyes sting as I push myself up, removing my hand from Soda's. My voice is a rasp. "Amy? What?"

Johnny nods, biting down on his lip so hard I think he might draw blood. He tries to sound steady, but his voice cracks. "She's takin' you and Sammy with her. To Texas. You'll be safe there." For one heartbeat, relief floods me. Away from Mom and Dad. Away from the fists, the screaming. Away from all of it. But then I realize what he's not saying. My chest seizes.

"You mean...us." My voice is sharp, desperate. "You too."

Johnny shakes his head. His dark eyes glisten in the weak porch light slipping through the curtains. "No, Lace. I'm stayin'. This is my home. I'm s'posed to be here." The words hit like a punch to the gut. I lurch forward, grabbing his shirt with shaking hands.

"No! No, Johnny, please. Don't make us go without you. We'll figure somethin' out. We'll stick together. We gotta stick together!"

He catches my wrists, gently but firmly, tears shining in his eyes. "You gotta go. Sammy deserves better than this life. So do you."

"I don't care about better!" The sound that rips out of me is raw, ugly, nothing like my own voice. "I just want you. Please come with us. Please." Sammy stirs on the couch beside me, her little arms clutching that ragged stuffed rabbit. She blinks up at Johnny with sleepy eyes, not fully understanding. The thought of her staying here, of us staying here, tears me in half.

Johnny smooths her hair back, his face breaking. "I can't, Lace. I can't leave the gang. They need me. It'll be alright. Dally'll look out for me."

I choke out a sob. "Dally lives in a bar and is in trouble with the cops every other week." Soda is awake now. He gives me a sad look, then walks towards his bedroom silently.

Johnny cups my face with trembling hands, his thumbs brushing at my tears. His own cheeks are wet now. "I'll be okay. And I swear we'll see each other again. Real soon. This ain't goodbye forever." But it feels like it. It feels worse than death.

I collapse against him, clutching his neck like if I hold on tight enough he won't make me go. My sobs shake through both of us, his chest rising and falling in jagged breaths. Sammy's crying now too, confused but scared, and Johnny pulls her into the hug, his thin arms wrapping around both of us. We stay like that until headlights sweep across the window. My aunt's car. My heart sinks straight to the floor.

Johnny presses his forehead against mine, his voice a broken whisper. "Be brave, Lace. For me. For Sammy. I love you."

The front door opens, Aunt Amy stepping inside with tired eyes and open arms. I scream no, I claw at Johnny, but Dally's there suddenly, gently prying me off, his face twisted in grief. Darry's holding Sammy, and Soda's murmuring soft words to calm her as she reaches for Johnny.

I thrash, sobbing so hard I can barely breathe. I try to slide out of Dally's arms, but he's too strong. I scream Johnny's name, and see him start to shake with sobs. He yells, "Be brave, Lace! We'll see each other again, I promise!" Another sob racks his malnourished body as he repeats, "I promise!"

But I guess not all promises can be kept.

Want to read more? Click the link below to read my story! I appreciate your comments and feedback!💗🙏😊

Lacey Cade returns to Tulsa following her big brother, Johnnys death. She finds a family in the greasers, and as she navigates grief, she al

[pepsicola-love]

Sammy Cade!☀️🩵

7 years old and trouble with a capital T. Sammy is Johnny and Lacey’s little sister, and she’s the most spoiled girl in all of Tulsa.

She’s spunky, sassy, and obsessed with Darry. The kids at school tease her for being raised by grease and smelling like cigarette smoke, but she doesn’t mind because she loves those boys. The greasers princess.

Sammy was too young when they escaped Tulsa, so she doesn’t remember much from those years. Since their return, she’s had the whole gang wrapped around her little finger.

If you want to learn more about Sammy and see how adorably the boys treat her, click the link below to read my story! I appreciate your comments and feedback.

Lacey Cade returns to Tulsa following her big brother, Johnnys death. She finds a family in the greasers, and as she navigates grief, she al

[pepsicola-love]

Introducing Lacey Cade!!🥤💗

Lacey is Johnny’s little sister. When she was 12, Johnny helped her and their 3 year old sister, Sammy escape to Texas with their aunt. She lived there for two years, until she received a letter from Darry telling her Johnny had died. Her and Sammy rushed back to Tulsa for the funeral. It’s been two years since Johnny died, and Lace doesn’t have the heart to leave.

She feels like her brother is a stranger. The gang doesn’t like talking about him much, so she knows nothing about the last two years of his life.

She is best friends with Sodapop, and when the line between friends and something more becomes blurry, her life begins to change.

To read Lacey’s story and see what happens next, click the link below. I would love your feedback!!

Lacey Cade returns to Tulsa following her big brother, Johnnys death. She finds a family in the greasers, and as she navigates grief, she al