medicine. dallas winston - the outsiders

p r o l o g u e

THE PROLOGUE ;

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I was making some, quick, last adjustments to my makeup as I stood in front of the mirror.

I absolutely despise wearing makeup. I try to wear the least amount that I can possibly get by with. Though, I truly need to wear it.

I need some type of cover up, because, I have a few scars.

One above my left eyebrow, and one along my jaw.

The makeup I practically cake on doesn't seem to make them go away, it just makes it less noticeable. Maybe if I could afford better makeup? I thought. Maybe if I didn't use the cheap kind? Well, too bad. It's all I can afford.

I sighed heavily. I really couldn't stand it.

I walked down the stairs slowly, and carefully. Timidly. It's just a habit of mine.

"Oh, good morning, sweetheart." My aunt, Miranda, was already up. She had her hair still up in curlers, and a robe on. She was honestly very pretty, a lot like my mother was. She had dark hair, dark eyes filled with love, and a gorgeous smile. I wish I could look like her.

"Morning." I give her a head nod, my lips turning up into a half smile.

"Did ya sleep good?" She asked, her voice kind of in a sing-song tone.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Great!" Her eyes flutter up to the clock hanging on the wall, then she looks back at me. "I guess you better get a move on, huh? You wouldn't want to miss your first day!"

I knitted my eyebrows together, and pursed my lips. "You sure about that, aunt Miranda?"

She giggled, "I don't want you to miss your first day! Now, go on. Remember what I told you last night?" She was practically pushing me out the door.

"Yes, I remember." I sigh, right as she shuts the door.

Stay away from those hoods. They're no good, hoodlums.
Those hoods. Those hoods.

All she could talk about was 'those hoods.' The way they dressed, so I could 'look out for them.' The way they talked, so I'd know how to 'prepare.'

She's forgetting, I believe, that I used to live here. Around when I was seven years old was when I moved out to Hollywood with my mother.
But now I'm back, under the awful circumstances. I'm glad to be back, too. Tulsa is my true home. It forever will be.

The Sun was just coming up as I began the short walk to the school. I was walking rather slowly, as if truly pained me to be going. It kind of did.

I hummed along to a song that was stuck in my head. I stopped to kick rocks every once in a while. And, when I was far enough away from the house, I had me a cigarette lit up.

I arrived at the school after about a ten minute walk. There were a lot of people already piling inside. I stayed behind, though. To finish my cigarette.

"Oh, baby, who are you?" The song was suddenly tore out of my thoughts. I turned my head quickly, to see a couple of guys standing near me.

They were well dressed. One of them wore a nice Madras shirt. Just by the looks of them I could see they belonged to the, 'stuck up' crowd.

I think I remember what they're called here. Socials? Socs.

I despised 'em even when I was seven.

The other boy, a tall fellow, with clean brown hair, smirked at me. "Ain't you that one actresses daughter? What's her name..uh, Taylor something.."

"Taylor Ann." I spit out quickly. Saying her name just gave me goosebumps.

"Yeah, what's up with the big times, uh? Why're you here and not in Hollywood?" He began to laugh, "Oh wait."

I dropped my cigarette onto the ground, then stomped it out. I remembered another thing Aunt Miranda told me.

If anyone brings up your mother in a negative way, just turn the other cheek.

I gave the two Socs a glare each. I bit my tongue to keep from saying anything, and just quickly stormed into the school.

I tried really hard to get mom out of my head. I couldn't. Her face was just stuck there. I couldn't. I felt like I could break down into tears then.

Those ten years spent in Hollywood completely ruined me.