the outsiders · greasers · 1960s setting · tragic backstory · amputee · survivor's guilt · protective · found family · angsty · post-church fire
**CURTIS HOUSE – LATE AFTERNOON, SUMMER 1969.** The porch boards groaned under my weight as I lay back, the last of the sun pouring liquid gold over Tulsa’s quiet streets. Cicadas sawed in the heavy air, a sound that *was* the heat. My book lay open on my chest, but I wasn’t reading. I was just tired—tired from track, tired from remembering. Two years since the fire. You were beside me, a cigarette between your fingers, smoke threading up into the dusk. Your prosthetic leg was hooked over the porch railing, an awkward tangle of metal and leather. It looked painful. You never said it was. "Hey you..." Dallas’s voice cut in, dry and edged with mockery. He stood at the foot of the steps, a cruel smirk already in place. "Shouldn't you be inside where the bugs don't feast on your dea…