Valerie Winston

Y/N HUDSON

MARCH 17, 1957

"Elvis Presley, where the hell are you driving me?!" You squealed as Elvis swerved along what you assumed was a street with sharp turns.

"Don't you use my full name or we'll go a whole lot faster. I told you, it was a surprise, woman!" You felt him push on the pedal and you both took off at a speed that was surely illegal. He turned up the radio and Heartbreak Hotel was playing.

You both were singing rather off-key and basically screaming until Elvis turned down the radio and took the key out of the ignition. He told you to not take off your blindfold yet and you heard him get out and shut his car door.

Elvis walked around to your side of the car door. The boy was rather giddy and excited about this surprise, his whole body felt like shaking and he felt the need to break out in dance as if nobody was watching. However, for the sake of the surprise and his embarrassment, he figured it could wait just a little longer.

He helped you get out of the car and walked you somewhere first and had you turn around. Elvis quietly prayed for a brief second before everything became silent.

"Take off the blindfold!" He shouted from afar.

You took the scarf off your eyes and slowly turned around and opened your eyes. It took you a minute to process what you were seeing. A huge and beautiful mansion was in front of you. It was like nothing you'd ever seen before. In between the large columns, Elvis was holding his arms out, the large structure of the building made him look extremely minuscule.

"Well?!" He shouted, ushering you to come over to him.

"Elvis, this- this is beautiful, but should we really go inside, I mean-" You rambled while walking to him

Once you reached him at the top of the mansion's steps, he held both of your hands, grinning madly. "Whaddya mean, Little? This all mine, we callin' her Graceland!"

"Elvis, I know you did not waste your hard-earned money on something so big and expensive! You could've bought something smaller, just something to get your family out of that apartment!"

"Little, but I did! I don't only want my family to live here, I want my closest friends to live here, I want you to live here!"

"Elvis, this is a big proposal, how-"

"Before ya make up your mind, come in, look at her with me!"

✩

"And this would be your room, doll." Elvis opened the door to another unfurnished room. 

However, compared to the other rooms (not including Elvis' master bedroom), it was surprisingly big and had a walk-in closet. The windows showed the entire backyard view of the mansion and Elvis promised you that once he settles in, he'll grow whatever you want back there. 

Elvis began to give you ideas of where to put any sort of furniture you wanted wherever and was nearly running around the room. He just continued to ramble on and on about the plans he had for you living in the mansion with him, but you were unnervingly quiet, and he took notice.

"I wanna replace all this hardwood floorin' with a red carpet, add that... touch?" His smile struggling to stay put, he asked, "Y/n, Little, what's wrong? Don'tcha like it?"

"Yes, E, yes I love it all, Graceland is beautiful, but," you walked up to him. "But, I dunno if I'll be able to stay here with you."

"No, not stay. Live here. I-I-I really want you to live here, Y/n." He began to stutter and talk fast, you knew that meant Elvis was getting anxious. He grabbed your hands and rubbed them together with his own.

"E, I would love to, but my mother and my sister, I can't just leave them!" You explained.

Elvis tore his hands from yours and went to lean against the wall, looking out the window."All they do is treat you like- like garbage, Y/n! You work your ass off day and night for your ma to just buy another goddamn box of cigarettes!" He pounded a fist against the window frame and shook his head.

"Elvis, don't you dare talk about my mama like that! She's trying!" You shouted at him, standing in place.

"Yeah, the drunk and the other bastard living with her is trying to kill ya!" He basically howled at you, his eyes still looking out the window.

"Quit thinkin' you know my family, damnit! It ain't your place! You don't know anything about us!" Your voice began to crack and you felt the tears coming. This was the first argument with Elvis that's ever gotten this far.

"I know one thing's for sure, and that's the fact that you're getting out of that goddamn house one way or another!"

Your sobs came slowly but surely, you backed yourself up against the door and began to let everything out. Your years of built-in anger, confused emotions, and unanswered questions all came pouring out at once. It's been a good minute since you've had a good cry.

Elvis was quiet for a few minutes before he walked over to you. He just looked at you, as you sobbed. You probably looked a mess right now, no, in fact, you did look a mess right now, and trying to cover your face from Elvis wouldn't do anything but make you look at him again. He hesitantly wrapped his arms in a bear-like hug.

As soon as you felt his arms around you, you suddenly collapsed, your legs giving out only because he was there to catch you.

"Uh-oh," he muttered as you fell into him.

He sat on the floor and against the wall and sat you on his lap at an angle. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, smelling his LFM cologne. He rubbed your back soothingly as he held you close to him. You could tell he was figuring out what to say because his lips started trembling and his eyes darted around the room like mad.

"Lil mama, I'm real sorry for yelling at you like that. It ain't my place, you right."

"No, E, I'm sorry, I-"

"I shoulda never raised my voice at no woman, let alone my bestest-lil-mama." You then smiled. "You know how hard Mama would slap me if she found out I was talkin' to ya like that."

You pulled away from his neck to look at him and he was already smiling. Looking at his pink lips, they looked soft. Elvis never went too long without chapstick and you could tell. Despite your friend status, you couldn't help but always wonder what those lips against your own or against your body felt like.

"You just wanted what's best for me, E. Trust me, I know. I'm sorry for freaking out but I don't know how I'll be able to leave my ma' and sister."

"They treat you horribly, Y/n. How are ya still questioning it?"

"I dunno. What if they go on telling the media saying I ditched them for some celebrity crush? I'll look horrible!"

"I can clear it up, princess. Satnin knows they'll listen to me, and we'll come forth about the abuse. That's something only you can come out about, I can't and don't have a say about it. All I have to say is you don't ever hafta go through that again."

Elvis had a point. You let him continue to try and persuade you into staying with him at the mansion.

"You won't ever have to work again, Y/n. Hell, y-you won't ever hafta lift a finger again! I would do anything for my bestest-girl if it means you'll live here with me."

Elvis had a point, in fact, he had many. You don't know why you were still living with what was left of your abusive family, you overwork yourself with little to no benefits, and you're a part of his inner circle at this point.

It took you some time to think about it, and he stared at you the entire time, biting the inside of his cheek. You tried to hide a cheeky smile as you said, "I guess I'll stay- no, live here in Graceland with you."

Elvis cheered and fell back, leaving you two a laughing mess on the floor.

Y/N HUDSON

MARCH 1, 1957

Two years had passed since then. The relationship between you and Elvis grew closer ever since you admitted to the fact Elvis made you actually happy. His passion for music grew larger than ever and just two weeks ago he recorded his first two demos at Sun Studios. He made no more than $4 but he couldn't be happier.

However, on your side of the spectrum, not everything was as bright. Your mother and father divorced and your father took mostly everything, this made sense because he was the entire income of the home anyways. You had to move out and live in a shabby two-bedroom apartment with your selfish older sister and your mother, who was becoming a lousy drunk.

Paying bills would hurt you mentally, physically, and even financially. At one point, all the electricity shut off in the house due to the bill being two months late. Money was tight and your mother spent whatever was left of anything on booze and cigarettes.

Telling Elvis was a journey of its own and took a lot of encouragement in general. You know he'd be extra with you in many ways and you couldn't stand to be a charity case. So you told him exactly that. He respected your decision, but Elvis seemed to invite you over to his home every day to get you away from any risks of you being hurt.

Now, Elvis was dressed in this bright pink suit, getting ready to go on stage for the first time in front of all these people. Everyone, as in Elvis, his mama and papa, George, and Billy were all backstage helping to get his nervousness out. As much chanting and praying as they did, no amount of prayers could ever get rid of all those nerves that Southern boy had.

His hair had slightly fallen out of place and a few strands were in his face, he paid no mind. The mascara that you had done for him, per request, had smeared under his eyes and gave him a slight smoky-eye effect, it wasn't a horrible look at all. In fact, he liked it so much, that for future shows, Elvis would always recreate it and do the same look for each and every show.

Elvis was soon called to the stage and the group watched him nervously look back before making what would soon be his big debut.

He walked on stage with a slight swagger but it was soon ripped away from him as soon as the announcer asked Elvis how he was. A question so simple as that would almost send the boy into an anxiety attack, so just imagining how he felt before singing would nearly send you into an anxiety attack of your own.

Elvis had answered, fiddling with his guitar as he got into his stance in front of the mic, "Good, how about yourself?"

He introduced the song and his foot slowly tapped the ground in a rhythmic beat.

"Goes... Goes somethin' like this," he started.

You watched from the audience, seated right next to his family. The people next to you were a group of boys with their dates, laughing and kissing away, being quite rude and disruptive overall. You gave them a dirty look, to which none of them saw, and turned your eyes back to Elvis.

He breathed heavily into the mic, his eyes nervously scanning the room. You assumed he was looking for you but didn't want to cause much of a scene or wonder aloud where you were. So, as nervous as he was, he started and started quite shakily. "Oh, baby, baby, baby, baby," he sang pitchily.

"Baby, baby, baby," he repeated twice, the mic feedback powering over his shaky tune.

"Come back, baby. I wanna play house with you," the instruments started.

One of the boys next to you shouted, "Get a haircut, fairy!" And across the entire room, laughter broke out.

Furious, but hesitant to not cause a scene, you poked your head up higher in the hopes that Elvis would see you, and thank the heavens he did. His eyes met yours and he flashed a worried look. You shook your head and leaned back in your seat, mouthing, "Knock 'em dead."

Elvis turned his eyes towards the crowd and fiddled with his loose pant leg, preparing himself. His foot bounced off the ground repeatedly and that's when you knew, your boy would knock them dead, every single one of them.

"Well," he growled, rolling his head back as the sound of confidence erupted from within his voice.

You may go to college, you may go to school, you may have a pink Cadillac, but don't you be nobody's fool!

His words slurred as he sang into the microphone, playing the guitar as he shook the lower half of his body rather chaotically. His voice had a type of raspiness to it and it made you as well as everyone else swoon for him.

Your eyes darted to his lower half and his hips shook from left to right over and over again, and that was all anyone was really staring at. Women from all around began to stand up and rush to the stage, basically throwing themselves at your friend.

Come back, baby, I wanna play house with you.

As you tore your eyes from his hips, you met eyes with Elvis, and although he couldn't see you too well in the light, something inside told him that he knew that you were staring right back at him.

✩

Elvis ran off the stage and into the west wing, where everyone was waiting for him. He took off his guitar and gave it to one of his band members and he began to hug everyone, starting off with his mama. Elvis hugged her tight for several minutes, the others began to make conversation with each other. Elvis made his way around the group and eventually made it to you.

You gave him a big smile and immediately embraced him, he swung you back and forth. Squealing in happiness for your friend, you pulled back to look at him. He searched your eyes and scanned your expression for what seemed like approval, again. Elvis was dripping with sweat and you didn't care one bit.

"E, you did great," you held his face in your hands, looking up at him.

"Ya think?" He grinned, his left hand shaking nervously, something he did when he was worried or excited.

"What do you mean 'ya think'? Everyone loved it!"

"Did you love it?"

You nodded vigorously, planting a kiss on his forehead. He opened his mouth to say something but his mama called you both over for a celebration dinner.

✩

The next few months went by somewhat quickly and you could basically call it the major turning point of your life. Elvis would go on to play more and more gigs at Shell Park and more and rather quickly, Elvis became a local celebrity.

Yesterday, Elvis took you and his mama and daddy to go sign his first contract for RCA records. He was giddy about it the whole ride there. But of course, since you weren't technically family, you didn't need to sign the contract for Elvis Enterprises. You met Colonel Tom Parker and he wouldn't stop telling you how you and Elvis would rule the new generation and be the new hit couple.

You simply turned away and laughed at his comment, not hearing the small 'oh' come out of Elvis's mouth as you did so. He turned to the Colonel and started to talk business with him. You went to his mama to talk about whatever there was left to talk about.

Elvis took you all out to dinner that night due to a $5,000 bonus he received with signing the contract. At dinner, Elvis was making promises like crazy. Even if he only had $5,000, Elvis seemed to promise you all the world and then some. Everyone laughed at his crazy promises as they ate the delicious food in front of them.

"Y/n, what would you do if you suddenly got all that money?" His mama asked with a large smile.

You wanted to tell her 'move out and far away from here' but you knew that Elvis would break down if he ever heard that. So instead you went with your second option.

"A blue or pink Cadillac," you said. Elvis looked at you.

"Now what you need to be drivin' a Cadillac for?" Billy asked. Even though he was only 13 at the moment, he had the mouth of a grownup.

"What'd you ask for? A five-story mansion? Now, what do you need a mansion for?" George asked.

"For Elvis when he's famous, goes on a worldwide tour, and he needs a place for all those girls to stay!"

The table laughed, including Elvis, but you frowned. You began to move the food around your plate, losing your appetite rather quickly. You didn't know why, but you didn't like the idea of Elvis walking around sleeping around with the girls wanting to use him, only because he's famous. The thought brought a sinking feeling to your stomach.

You excused yourself from the table and stepped outside of the restaurant. The night sky brought a cool breeze and gave you some type of relief. Your pumps echoed as you stepped on the concrete.

"Lil mama, what're you doing out here?" You heard.

You turned your head ever so slightly and saw Elvis walking towards you. Continuing your walk, your hands held together behind your back, you said, "I just needed fresh air."

"You must'a really needed fresh air if ya left the table so quickly, I had to make sure they didn't food poison my lil' mama!" He joked, grabbing your hands and spinning you around to face him.

"I wish." You smiled weakly, looking up at him. You truly did love how much he cared for you, he always made you feel like you had a purpose in this world.

"Come-on, Y/n, I know ya came out here for somethin' other than fresh air." He began to fiddle with your fingers, looking at your unpolished nails. 

Shrugging, you went to sit on the bench next to the lampost. Elvis followed, resting his arm behind you once he sat down. His gaze remained on you as you looked to the ground.

"I dunno, E. It's just that comment Billy made about the girls, I guess." 

Elvis grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. He looked beyond pissed. 

"Don't you ever listen to Billy, ever. That boy will get you killed and they'll still find a way to send your body to jail."

You laughed and rested your hand on his forearm. "E, I'm serious."

"I'm serious too, Little." He licked his lips and his eyes darted to the empty street before meeting yours again. "I won't ever have girls comin' in left and right, out there ruinin' my reputation."

"But E, you never know. I know- no, we all know that you're going to skyrocket in a matter of months and everything will change." You then stood up and crossed your arms, leaning against the lampost.  "I don't want nothin' to change, but I can't control that."

Elvis followed and stood up as well. He tilted your chin up so he could get a good look at your face and might be slightly able to read your expressions. 

"Lil mama, ain't nothin' gon' change, nothin'. I won't let it."

"You can't avoid it, Elvis, you just can't! I just don't want this new chapter in your life to change." He opened his mouth to say something but you placed a finger over his soft, pink lips. "I don't want to lose this Elvis. The silly, sweet-hearted, smart, and bright Elvis. My Elvis."

He subtly smiled and placed his hands on your hips, which immediately sent a shiver through your entire body. He licked his lips, again, and his eyes danced with your own before dropping to your lips a few times. 

You placed your hands on either side of his neck and Elvis kissed the top of your head. "My Elvis..." He repeated quietly. "I like the sound of that."

"Good, 'cause it's the truth," you nodded.

"You'll always be my bestest girl, Y/n."

"Always?"

"Forever."

It was now Christmas Eve and you, Elvis, and George were all sitting in Elvis' family's apartment in Lauderdale Court. Elvis' little cousin, Billy, was in the kitchen doing lord knows what. You were all listening to George ramble on and on about his on-and-off relationship with his girlfriend from school. The sound of laughter, all with different pitches, filled the entire apartment. 

You were never home as much and often spent your time with the two boys or at dinner with Elvis. His family loved you and would ask about you anytime you went a day or two without being seen or talking to Elvis. As much as you wanted to, you could never bring Elvis to your home, and it wasn't because of Elvis, but it was because your family was so privileged and rude, that they'd tear Elvis to shreds.

As you were getting ready to take a sip of the water that you've had for a while, Billy rushed into the living room. Elvis and George took no notice and continued to talk to each other. Billy tapped your shoulder and you looked over with a smile. 

"Hey there, fella," Billy looked rather worried. 

"What's wrong?" 

 "I dropped something," Billy whispered. "Please don't tell E, he'll get stressed out..." 

Your heart nearly melted at how considerate and sweet Billy was for an 11-year-old, so you took his hand and stood up so he could lead you to his mess. George seemed to have noticed this and he decided to steer the conversation toward you instead. 

"Uh-oh, Elvis, little buddy's stealin' your date." 

 "Will you quit it?" Elvis groaned. 

"Where ya' goin', Y/n?" 

"Billy's takin' me on a date to the kitchen," you joked, turning your head back to wink at the two.  George laughed but you could've sworn you heard Elvis let out a rather irritated 'mhm'. 

 In the kitchen, Billy pointed out the shattered cup on the floor. You told him to get you the broom while you got a plastic bag to dispose of the glass in. Once Billy returned with the broom, you began to sweep up the shattered pieces of glass. Billy sat on one of the dining table's chairs and began kicking his feet as he watched you sweep what was left of the cup. 

"Y/n?" 

 "What's up, Billy?" 

Your eyes remained focused on your task as you finished sweeping. 

"Are you E's girlfriend?" You nervously chuckled as you stood the broom up against the counter and bent down to pick up and tie the bag of glass. 

"No, we're just friends, Billy." 

"Oh, well I hear him talking to his mama and George all the time, and he really likes you." He said with a little giggle. 

 That same fuzzy feeling you get when George teases you and Elvis returned, but this time, stronger than ever. You and Billy both let out a small gasp when a third voice joined in on your conversation. 

 "Billy, stop tellin' my damn business!" Elvis 'shouted'. 

"Billy, go take this out to the dumpster for me, will ya?" You asked, wanting to get to talk to Elvis alone.

Billy ran out of the kitchen with a grin that seemed to spread across the country and the bag of glass. Elvis ran his fingers through his beautifully styled hair and leaned against the counter, a stressed look spread across his face as well as a tint of pink across his cheeks.

"Did you try to yell at him or somethin'? 'Cause, that was not a very good try, mister Presley," you attempted to make him feel less embarrassed.

"I can't yell at no kids, Y/n," Elvis sighed, going to sit in the seat Billy was originally in.

Going over to comfort him, you rubbed his back gently. "I know, E, I know."

"I-I-I... I don't go bad-mouthin' everyone, Y/n, I swear, especially kids," he looked up at you with pleading eyes.

"Elvis, I know you were a little upset, I understand hon, but what's gotten into you?" You tried to go pull out a seat for yourself but Elvis stopped you by grabbing your arm.

You looked down at him with large doe-eyes, unsure of what he wanted. As he pulled you towards him, he spread his legs ever so slightly. Almost as if it were a reflex, you went to sit on his lap, most of your weight on his right leg. 

One of his hands rested on your hip and the other held your free hand, as your opposite arm was hung around his shoulder. His thumb, which was ever so rough from the calluses due to his guitar, gently caressed your soft hand. 

"Whaddya mean what's gotten into me, lil mama? I ain't changed no bit," he shook his head, his eyes deeply scanning your face, almost as if he was looking for approval from you.

You couldn't help but smile and let go of his hand to put your hand on his cheek. Mimicking his actions, you gently caressed his skin. His eyes fluttered ever so slightly and leaned into your touch.

"I mean you're over-explaining yourself, E. You ain't ever done that before, so why now?"

He licked his lips and his eyes dropped to the floor before he figured out what to say, "I mean, I shouted and told Billy to stop tellin' my damn business. It makes me look bad Y/n, and I don't want you to think of me any different, lil mama."

"Elvis Presley," you started. He looked worried for a second and you subtly shook your head. "I won't ever think of you any different for having emotions. Everyone is human, you can't make everyone happy," you whispered.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head down, you did the same, pressing your forehead against his. His breathing became slow and his breath smelled like mints and cola. You scanned his face, this being the closest you've ever been to him.

You noticed his freckles that were spread across his face, some more noticeable than others, and his long, gorgeous lashes. Oh, how you envied those black lashes that made his icy-blue eyes pop more than they already were.

"That's the issue, Y/n. I don't work to live; I wanna live to work." He paused before continuing, "I wanna make everyone happy, I wanna please everyone."

"Why?" You wondered aloud.

He pulled back and looked you in the eyes, almost as if he could see right through you. His lips parted to let out a breath he seemed to be holding for a while.

"Do I make you happy, Y/n?" He questioned, ignoring your own.

You were silent for a minute, thinking about how you should answer. Your answer would determine your friendship from here on out and it was something you cherished deeply. Elvis would always listen to you, you would always listen to them. You cried, laughed, and felt together. 

You felt a connection with him as soon as those gorgeous eyes looked into your own. Losing this friendship would mean losing a part of yourself, and you just couldn't bare to go through life without your other half.

So you answered, plain and simple. You answered the question that would cause you love, pain, sweat, and many, many tears. 

So you answered, with little to no doubt in mind. You answered the question that would cause you to be the person who would walk down the aisles of both life and death with him. 

So you answered.

"Yes, Elvis. Yes, you do."

CHAPTERS:

 The click of your small pumps echoed with each step you took on the polished floor of the new school. You looked down at your schedule and saw the class number was '102'. The first period on the list was trigonometry. The second class was your first-ever Honors/AP class. AP English. 

When you found out you'd be put into AP English, you told your family at the dinner table and they couldn't care less. Your father had told you, "Finally, something you've done right for once." You ate in silence from that night forward, and nobody questioned.

 Your entire family was successful and with you being the youngest child, the excitement was over. You weren't a straight-A student but you did have B's and C's with the occasional D in a math class. So when you got the news that you were put in AP English, it was a big accomplishment to you, you just wished your family felt the same.

✩

 Eventually, you found your class around the corner from the music hall. You had heard different sounds of instruments clashing together while walking and voices harmonizing from the different rooms, but one voice, in particular, stood out to you. It was a boy's voice coming from one of what you figured would be a practice room.

The voice was somewhat raspy with a deep tone in his voice. You stalled around the room for a moment to hear him continue singing but he messed up, almost as if he knew someone was listening. You were off to the side of the door and you're almost fully positive he couldn't have seen you.

"Damnit," he muttered. He had a noticeable Southern accent tied to his voice; he sounded tired.

You heard the rattling sound of a chair and assuming he was getting ready to walk out, you continued to walk as if you hadn't heard his gospel-like voice and his mistake. Hearing the sound of the door opening, you wish your feet had carried you a little faster down the hall, but you didn't want to make it evident you were listening.

Trying to make it less obvious, you looked back to see who opened the door as if you didn't hear anyone singing just a moment ago. Sure enough, it was a boy standing there with a stapled packet of papers in hand. All you saw was his pink shirt and his black hair that was slicked back and appeared to have no imperfections at all.

You quickly turned back around and walked into your math class.

In class, you were nearly half asleep within fifteen minutes. As your eyelids became heavy, your head fell from the hand that was holding your head up and you fell forward, hitting your head on the desk. It seemed that nobody noticed as you shot your head back up. You thought you were saved from embarrassment, but you soon were humbled by the sound of laughing coming from the boy sitting next to you.

You furrowed your brows and looked at him. 

"Do you mind?" You asked, touching your forehead to feel for any sort of swelling or a bruise.

"Do you mind not causing a distraction in class?" He responded with a smart-ass tone.

Shaking your head, you turned back to face the teacher who was still lecturing. You crossed one leg over the other and attempted to catch on to the lesson but while you were dozing off, you missed the main introduction.

"I don't understand any of this," you admitted to the boy.

"You had to be here last week to understand it, we just started a new unit."

"Isn't that just far out," you said sarcastically.

"What, you skip this class or somethin'?"

"No, I just moved here a few days ago. This is my first day here."

"Ain't that a bite," he paused, before continuing. "Have you met anyone yet?"

"Don't you listen, boy? I just said it was my first day here and it's the first period of the day, no I haven't met anyone." You decided not to tell him about the boy you were listening to earlier.

"It's George. You should come to sit with my buddy and me at lunch today. It's just us so we definitely got space."

"If it's just you two, shouldn't I be concerned?"

"And it's just you alone, shouldn't we be concerned?"

"Touche."

✩

 You walked down to the lunchroom with George and looked around at the crowded lunchroom. You wondered how George and his friend managed to strike down a whole table to themselves as they were just two people and the lunchroom was definitely over-populated at the moment. 

 You and George soon reached a table and he wasn't lying, it was only one boy sitting, a lunch tray in front of him. He looked down as he ate and his leg was bouncing up and down in a rhythmic beat. As he took a bite of one of his fries, he hummed the notes of some song you didn't know or couldn't understand from the few counts hummed.

"Hey man, I've got us a new lunch buddy. You two talk it up and I'm getting some food." He grabbed the other boy's milk as he walked off. 

"God damn it, George!" The boy shouted.

As I took a seat in front of him, my eyes widened. He looked up from his tray and his piercing blue eyes met yours. He looked oddly familiar, despite this being your first day here. He had jet-black hair and a pink shirt...

He seemed to have realized who you were as soon as you realized who he was, "you're the girl from the music hall."

His voice was smooth, that damn Southern accent suited him well. And those eyes... Those damn eyes. You couldn't look away, it felt as if you were mesmerized.

"I heard you singing and pulled to the side for a moment," you admitted. "You have a wonderful voice, by the way."

"They said the hall would be empty first period," he hesitated. "Thank you, though. What's your name?"

"Y/n Hudson. And yours?"

"Elvis Presley."

CHAPTERS:

MARY-JANE THOMSON

APRIL 18th, 1965

I was woken up by barking at the front door. I quickly got out of bed to go see what my dog, Cooper, was barking about. As my bare feet touched the floor, I hissed at the sudden coldness that sent a shock throughout my entire body. I opened my door and walked down the stairs tiredly, my eyelids still feeling rather heavy.

"Down, Coop," I lazily ordered my dog. He backed away from the door and sat down, his tail thumping against the wooden flooring.

I opened the door and my eyes widened upon the sight of a big, yellow bus leaving my street.

"Shit, shit, shit!" I yelled, rushing back up the stairs.

I immediately went into the bathroom to wet my toothbrush and squeeze the toothpaste onto the bristles. As I shoved the toothbrush in my mouth, I rushed to my bedroom to grab my first-day-of-school outfit which was neatly hanging up on a hanger that was hooked onto my closet door knob.

I put on my bra, a new pair of underwear, and my socks first before quickly throwing on my navy-blue skirt and white sweater. I ran back out to the bathroom to spit and rinse my mouth out. Hastily, I put on my black boots and looked in the mirror for the last time. The skirt was a little short, sure, but nothing too extreme, I still looked modest.

My hair was naturally 'curly' so I didn't have to straighten it, it surprisingly looked good for just waking up. I grabbed my black coat and bookbag before heading downstairs. I gave cooper a kiss on the head before leaving and locking the door behind me.

☆

I braced myself before entering my designated class. Luckily, everyone was talking to one another, it seems there was a group project assigned. I walked up to the teacher's desk and put on a smile. He wasn't really old, probably late 30s, or early 40s, with blue eyes and blonde hair. He wasn't necessarily bad looking, it was that he was my teacher.

"Hi, I'm Mary-Jane Thomson, your new student?"

He looked me up and down while licking his lips, "Yes, Mary-Jane. I've been waiting for you."

Eugh, he's a creep. "Thank you?" I responded, "I overslept and missed my bus... Where do I sit?"

"Happens to the best of us. You sit over there by Keith Matthews, the blonde boy in the corner. You'll be at the desk in front of him."

I nodded and pulled my skirt down before walking away, however, I know that didn't stop the teacher from looking at my ass.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry to interrupt, but are you Keith Matthews?" I asked the boy who was sitting on his desk, two girls focused on him as he dramatically moved his arms around. He had blonde hair which was slicked into a single bang across his forehead. He was wearing a Mickey Mouse wifebeater underneath a black, leather jacket.

He was cracking jokes before I came over, one of the girls in the group gave me a dirty look, and the other looked welcoming and sweet. She had red hair and the other had brown.

"Who's askin'?" He replied.

"Just me, the teacher told me I sit in front of a boy named Keith, if you're not him, then I can just-"

The redhead, who was giving me a sweet look, butted in, "yeah, he's Keith, he's just bein' a jerk."

They argued momentarily while I thanked her and took my seat. The redhead began a conversation with me, assuming my presence shifted the interests of their previous conversation.

"You must be the new girl. Mr. Warren called your name at least five times in attendance," she laughed, causing the other girl to as well. "I'm Sherri, but everyone calls me Cherry. This is Marcia and Keith, but they call him Two-Bit."

"Nice to meet you Cherry, Marcia, and Two-Bit," I responded with a small smile. "That teacher's a complete creep," I said with a disgusted look plastered on my face.

"Tell me about it!" Cherry and Marcia said at the same time.

"Me personally," Two-Bit tapped me on the shoulder. I turned my body to look up at the boy still sitting on the desk, "I don't see anything wrong with his game! I think he's getting more play than everyone here," he joked.

"Yeah, more than you?" Marcia asked.

"Well, maybe not everyone," Two-Bit said cockily, winking at Marcia who seemed to blush.

Cherry rolled her eyes and just shook her head, "It's nice to meet you, Mary-Jane."

☆

At lunch, Cherry and Marcia let me sit with them and their boyfriends. I was wondering why Two-Bit wasn't coming to sit with us, he seemed pretty close with the two, but I figured he just had more friends to entertain. He was a funny one.

When Cherry and Marcia's boyfriends left to get lunch, the two girls turned to face me.

"Well, you've had a full day here! How do you like it?" Marcia asked.

"Well, it was nice... I met a decent amount of people," I looked into the distance and my eyes fell on the other half of the lunch room.

It wasn't as calm as our half, matter of fact, it was pretty chaotic. I saw several leather jackets, and several tacky outfits worn by girls with too much makeup, and I saw a lot of boys fixing their greased hair with combs and mirrors.

The side I was sitting on, however, was pretty peaceful with light chatter. They were dressed nicely and the girls didn't wear too much makeup. The boys all had either varsity jackets on or madras. Everyone dressed nicely, including Cherry and Marcia.

"Why are all the people with like, leather jackets and stuff sitting on that half of the cafeteria?" I wondered aloud.

"You're new, I don't expect you to know this, but those are the Greasers. They live on the East-side of Tulsa. They're the... The poorer kids, a lot of them are affiliated with gang violence. It's rough down there. But not everyone is like that, Marcia and I are friends with several Greasers, they're sweet!"

She continued, "on this half, it's all Socs. They live on the West-side of Tulsa. Greasers and Socs fight just about every day, it gets pretty tiring. Pretty much every Soc is snobby and a bunch of jerks."

That explains why Two-Bit isn't sitting over here. He's a Greaser.

Marcia nodded in agreement before gasping and looking at Cherry and me with wide smiles.

"Cherry! We're going to the Drive-In with Ponyboy and his friends Friday night, let's bring Mary-Jane!"

"That sounds great! You can meet everyone. Mary-jane, do you wanna tag along?"

"Sure," I smiled. "It's not like I have anything to do," I paused. "I'm sorry, did you say Ponyboy?"