Chapter Text
The doorbell jingles above me as I step into Doc's to meet John and a few other Jets. I grab a Milky Way off the shelf, placing 5 cents on the counter for Valentina. Just because my brother constantly steals from her doesn't mean I have to.
I find John in the small shop, sitting at a table with three other, older Jets. I walk over to them, standing next to John to ruffle his hair. I lean my arm up on his shoulder, noticing the slight blush tinting his cheeks.
"So what's the plan for today, boys?" I ask, opening my Milky Way.
"Riff said somethin’ about showin’ the spics who's boss," Numbers responds.
"Of course he did," I sigh. "Anyone have any ideas of what my idiot brother said we're doin’ this time?" I take a bite of my candy.
"I think he mentioned somethin’ about paint?" John responds, looking up at me.
"Yeah, he wants to paint over the PRs flag at the courts!" Joyboy chimes in.
"Then he's gonna get the paint from the construction sites. He's probably on his way back by now." I conclude.
I turn around and sit down on the table to face John as the other Jets start their own conversation. I set my candy down and lean back on my hands, resting my feet on the empty chair next to John.
“And how do you feel about all this Shark stuff?” I ask him.
“I…” He starts, glancing up at me nervously. “I don't know, Ellie.”
“Oh, come on. I've known you for three years, and you're gonna start clammin’ up on me now?” I nudge his leg with my foot. “Just tell me. If it's somethin’ Riff won't like, then I won't tell him,” I promise him.
“I mean…” He pauses, sighing a little. “The PRs haven't done anything to me.” He says quietly, leaning forward to lean his arms on the table as he talks. “And they haven't really done much to Riff or the Jets either. Most of the things they’re doing, they have the right to do.”
I nod. “All the shops and everything that Riff says they’re takin’ over, they bought legally,” I agree. “I think he just doesn't like dealing with change.” I shrug.
“Exactly,” John leans back, running a hand through his hair. “The Puerto Ricans didn't do anythin’ wrong, and the only reason I'm doing all this stuff for Riff is ‘cause I wanna be a Jet. You finally got me in, Ellie, and I don't wanna get on his bad side so soon.”
“You don't have to be scared of Riff, ya know. He acts all high and mighty, but he's really just as scared and lost as the rest of us.” I slide off the table, down into the chair to look into John’s eyes better. “And even if you do something ‘wrong’ by Riff’s standards, he's not gonna touch you.”
“And why not?” John asks. “He has all the power.”
“‘Cause I won't let him. I got you into this mess, John.” I shake my head. “There's no way I'm lettin’ you get hurt on account of me bringin’ you into Riff’s circle.”
He smiles, looking away.
“And, yeah,” I continue. “I don't really like torturing the PRs either. But Riff’s got something against them, and he’s still my brother. And the Jets are still my guys. So I’m gonna stick with ‘em. I may not like what we’re doing, but they’re my family. The only family I’ve got left.” My fingers twist my silver chain hanging around my neck. “So, for me, at least, if that means that paintin’ over their flag or even a rumble is what it's gonna take for Riff to be happy, I wanna see my brother happy.”
John nods. “I get that. Doin’ what needs to be done. I still haven't told my ma how I’ve been bringing home money to buy food,” He shakes his head. “I’m just scared she’ll get mad at me. But she wouldn't understand that this is the only way for us. And I can't lose her. You two are the only ones I have.” He mumbles the last part, turning his head to avoid my gaze, not before I see his cheeks glowing pink.
I hear the creak of the back door opening as Valentina pokes her head into the small drugstore. She sees me and her face lights up, walking into the shop.
"Hey, Valentina! How are you today?" I ask, grabbing John and my candy and walking to meet her by the counter. I sit down at the barstools, John sitting down next to me, all signs of his previous embarrassment gone. I hand him my Milky Way, and he takes a bite before handing it back to me.
"Muy bien, Elizabeth. Y tú?" Valentina responds, a small smile on her face.
"I'm doin’ pretty good myself!" I grin, taking another bite of the candy and giving it back to John.
"Is your hermano getting you into trouble again?" She asks in her thick accent, raising a brow as she begins restocking the shelves behind her counter.
"Aw, you know Riff, Valentina. When is he not gettin’ us in trouble?" John jokes next to me.
"Ay, that boy will get himself in real trouble someday," Valentina sighs.
"Unfortunately, I don't think he's afraid of trouble, señora," I respond, finishing the Milky Way that John passed back to me.
Suddenly, there is a heavy, rapid knocking on the door.
***I recommend listening to “Prologue” from the West Side Story (2021) soundtrack during this scene***
"Hey! Lizzie, Baby John! Let's go!" Numbers yells to us before running out the door, followed by the others.
"And that's our cue! Bye, Valentina!" I grab John's sleeve, pulling him out the door with me.
"Adios, Elizabeth! Ten cuidado!" She warns after us.
The Jets and I empty onto the street, seeing Riff and a few others already walking down the street holding paint cans. Our groups merge as we pick up a few other Jets along the way.
We walk down the center of the street, Riff and I leading the pack. A-Rab and Diesel quickly step out in front of us, mimicking each other's moves. Riff hands his paint can off to someone so that he and I can lead everyone as we dance down the street.
Our dance is suddenly cut short by a group of PRs crossing the street in front of us. We all look at each other, nodding to show confirmation. As soon as the people have finished crossing, we begin splitting up into groups to grab the rest of our supplies and then meet back at the flag. I glance back after everyone has left, seeing John on his own.
"Come on." I grab his hand, leading him to one of the groups.
We dance our way up to a shop recently taken over by the PRs, joining the group of Jets already there and waiting for us. The boys lift me up, and I pull off the loosely attached new cantina sign that covered up the old pub's sign. I jump down, handing the sign to John.
The shop owner comes out with a broom, yelling at us in Spanish. I throw a smirk and a wink his way as we dance away from him to rejoin the main group, John throwing the sign on the floor as we make our escape.
We meet Riff back in the middle of the plaza, where we all dance over to the Puerto Rican flag painted on the wall at the basketball courts.
Anybodys runs in from the second entrance with a grin on his face. Riff walks up to him.
"Beat it."
The Jets all push past him, moving to the flag.
"Don't listen to him. He doesn't know what he's talkin’ about," I say to him as I pass.
We make it to the flag, Diesel already opening the paint cans. Some of us grab brushes, while others just stick their whole hands in the paint cans. The boys start cheering as we start slapping paint on the wall over the Puerto Rican flag. We all end up covered in paint, but we couldn't care less. I throw some paint at John, and he swipes a streak across my face. We're both laughing and grinning when a sharp whistle pierces the air.
We all look back to see the Sharks in a full sprint straight towards us, Anybodys whistling a warning.
The Sharks charge at us, immediately starting to fight our boys when they catch us. One punches John straight in the face, moving on to hit me. John picks up a paint can and slams it into the side of our attacker's head, throwing him to the ground. Two other PRs grab me and John, pulling us away from the scene.
We tear away from them, running behind the nearest building, only to find our exits being filled with Sharks. We climb the fence behind us, Sharks beginning to climb after us.
"Jets!" I hear John yell for help as the Sharks pull us off the fence.
Two Sharks throw me to the floor and start hitting me. I kick one between the legs, leaving him in a crumpled ball on the floor. I stand and punch the second guy in the face as I hear an ear-piercing scream from John. He is covered by four different guys, and no matter how hard I hit them, they won't let up and get off of him.
The fence begins rattling behind me as the rest of the Jets begin climbing over it. Balkan, Diesel, and A-Rab help me rip the Sharks off of John. They run into the fight to meet the Sharks who are pouring in from the other side of the empty lot we are in. I pull John up before another Shark can come hit him while he's down. He has blood running down the side of his face, but I don't get a chance to look at it before two Sharks run up to us, shoving me to the ground. I hit one in the face, and John punches the other in the stomach before shoving him to the ground.
John helps me up as I glance back to see Riff climb the fence and immediately lock eyes with the Sharks' leader, Bernardo. They push through the chaos, meeting in the middle.
Suddenly, we all begin to hear sirens as Officer Krupke pulls up to the lot to break up the fight. The police all get out of their cars yelling for us to separate.
In the short moment of peace, I turn to John. "Lemme see what's bleeding," I reach up to turn his cheek so his injury is facing me. I grimace as I see the nail sticking through his earlobe, pouring blood down his neck and face.
“Alright, now I’ve got somethin’ against those PRs,” I mumble as I begin wiping some of the blood off of his cheek, licking my fingers a bit to wet them.
“Yeah, me too,” John runs his fingers over a small cut on my forehead.
"Youse're driving me to my grave, ya pack of jackals!" Officer Krupke's voice rings out across the empty lot, gaining all of our attention.
I make my way to the front of the group to stand with my brother, grabbing John's hand and pulling him along with me.
"Watch yourself, Sergeant Krupke, you're gonna inflame your asthma shoutin’ like that." Riff drawls, lighting a cigarette. I chuckle a bit, the Jets joining in before Krupke interjects again.
"Why don't you leave the Puerto Ricans alone, Riff?" Krupke winces, grabbing his side. "And you lot," He points at the Sharks. "You're in New York now. You got a problem, you call the cops. Youse can't play at being cops yourselves."
"Pero we call the cops, and you show up and arrest us!" Bernardo retaliates. "You're never around when these hijueputas mess up our stores and our streets."
"See, I get confused when you say 'our streets.'" I interrupt, letting go of John's hand to step forward.
"Yeah, seein’ how these streets are ours by right of being born here, amigo," Riff continues.
Bernardo points at Riff, calling him something in Spanish.
"How many times do I gotta tell you, Bernardo? I don't speak spic." Riff states.
Bernardo starts forward, followed by his gang. Ours meets theirs in the middle, and it becomes an aggressive shoving match before we are once again interrupted by whistles being blown at us.
We separate again, looking to see Lieutenant Schrank stalking toward us with a new group of cops. He catches a glimpse of John's ear.
"Baby John, who did that to your ear?" Lieutenant Schrank asks, turning John so that everyone could see the bloody nail sticking out from his ear. Schrank pokes the nail, making John cringe in pain. Schrank pushes John towards the Sharks.
"Which one of them nailed you?" He asks.
John takes a few steps in the direction of the Shark he hit with the paint can.
"And who cracked your head open, hombre?" Schrank asks the Shark.
The Shark starts responding in Spanish.
"In English." Schrank interrupts.
The Shark looks toward the guy next to him.
"Same guy who nailed your ear, maybe?" The other one suggests.
"Maybe. I don't remember." John says quietly.
Schrank keeps his hand on John's shoulder, walking up the divide between the two gangs, stopping in front of me and Riff.
"I realize if any of you helps me out, you might spoil your chance to murder each other over control of this earthly paradise." Schrank states.
"The Jets control it and you know it," Balkan interjects.
"Uh-huh. Yeah." Schrank pushes John into me to look at Balkan.
"But, golly gee, Balkan, not according to the New York City Committee for Slum Clearance, which has decided to pull this whole place down to the bedrock." He puts his hand back on John's shoulder and points to the Sharks. "And you're in the way."
He turns and rips the nail out of John's ear. John yelps in pain, falling into me with his hand on his ear. I wrap my arm around him as he leans into my shoulder, groaning from the blood loss.
Schrank looks at the bloody nail in his hand, letting out a low whistle before tossing it to Bernardo, who catches it quickly.
"Nice reflexes, muchacho." Schrank nods. "So, any day now, all of you are gonna be evicted. You'll have to 'vamoose' as we say in Spanish." He chuckles.
"We're not relocating," Bernardo says, throwing the nail to the ground.
Another Shark steps forward speaking Spanish. "We have rights," He finishes.
"Rights, huh?" Schrank mocks. "What are they?" He slaps the Shark.
Bernardo steps forward threateningly, followed by his gang.
"You back down, Bernardo." Officer Krupke places a hand on Bernardo's chest. "Don't be stupid."
Bernardo pushes through anyway, standing in front of Schrank with his hands resting on his belt buckle.
"Some night, muchacho," Bernardo mocks. "Maybe you'll get to see me fight."
"'Course you'll have to leave your gun at home, Lieutenant." Riff says, smoke pouring out his mouth.
"Evict yourself off my crime scene, Bernardo." Schrank turns away from the Sharks' leader.
"Vamos." Bernardo states, leading his pack away.
The Jets start whistling and taunting the Sharks as they walk off. But just as they are about to leave, Bernardo turns around to sing in Spanish.
"Get a load of this guy!" A Jet shouts from behind me.
John lifts his head from my shoulder to wipe his tears away. He and I chuckle a bit, watching Bernardo stand there singing.
More and more Sharks join Bernardo in his song.
"Keep up the serenade and see what-" Schrank's threat is cut short by more Sharks singing louder.
The Sharks all raise their fists in the air, and one pushes through their crowd shouting, "Viva Puerto Rico libre!"
"I am ordering you clowns to disperse!" Schrank yells. "Now!"
The Sharks continue their song as they walk away.
"We're outnumbered, boys." Schrank turns back toward us. "Thousands more are on their way, and once they're here, they pop out kids like crazy. Am I right?"
He walks through our group, lifting his hand to point at John.
"Tell me which one of them nailed Baby John's ear, and I'll put him out of circulation." Schrank reasons. "Work with me, fellas! Or they're gonna drive you off your turf."
"You said it was the Slum Clearance Committee that was driving us off." Riff says. "Now it's the PRs."
"You gotta get your story straight, Lieutenant Schrank. We're very impressionable," I sigh.
"Most of the white guys who grew up in this slum climbed their way out of it. Irish, Italian, Jews." Schrank lists.
"Nowadays, their descendants live in nice houses, and drive nice cars, and date nice girls you'd wanna marry." He pushes his hat into Diesel's chest.
"Your dads or grandads stayed put, drinkin’ and knocking up some local piece who gave birth to you." He turns around and gestures to all of us.
"The last of the can't-make-it Caucasians." He pauses. "What's a gang without its terrain, its turf?" He asks.
"You're a month or two away from finding out, one step ahead of the wrecking ball. And in this uncertain world, the only thing you can count on is me." He looks around at us.
"I'm here to keep the civil peace until the last building falls. And if you boys make trouble on my turf," He walks over to Riff and me. "Lizzie, Riff, hand to heart, you're headed to an upstate prison cell for a very long time."
"And by the time you get out, this will be a shiny new neighborhood of rich people in beautiful apartments," He looks at Riff. "With Puerto Rican doormen to chase trash like you away." Schrank turns to leave.
"Wait!" Riff says. I look at him, confused.
"I got a question for you, Lieutenant." He takes a long drag from his cigarette. "How tall did you used to be before you, ya know, 'schrank?'"
The Jets all laugh at Schrank's judgemental stare.
"Come on, Sergeant, ride with me." Schrank orders Krupke.
"Long as I known you, Riff," Krupke stabs a finger at my brother's face. "You ain't got the sense of a pigeon."
The Lieutenant and his posse of cops all leave, leaving us to all circle up.
"Come here, let's see what he done." Riff says to John.
I lead John all the way up to the front of the group. Riff holds the side of John's head so he can look down at the injury.
"Well, that's gonna scar, buddy boy." Riff concludes.
"You think so?" John chuckles.
"Frankenstein time." Riff responds, taking Ice's flask and a rag.
He tips some of the alcohol into John's mouth before I smack it away from his lips.
"Stop givin’ him the alcohol, Riff, we gotta use it to clean his ear." I sigh, taking the flask and rag from my brother.
I pour some of the alcohol out onto the rag.
"Tilt your head and stay still," I instruct John. "This might hurt, but it's the best we can do until we get somewhere with a first aid kit."
He rests the uninjured side of his face in my left hand as I dab at his wound with my right. His face contorts in pain and he gasps quickly as the rag touches his ear.
"Sorry," I mumble, trying to be as gentle as I can.
They can't make us up and leave," Action says as I clean up John's ear. "We're here, ain't we?”
"We're American citizens, which them spics ain't!" A-Rab yells. "Them they can chase off, not us."
"Puerto Ricans are Americans, you ignoramus." Diesel puts in.
"Ah, go eat a green banana!" A-Rab shouts.
"Puerto Rico's like a state, ain't it? So, Deez is right," Snowboy agrees, only to be shoved to the ground.
"Nah, it's somethin' else." John shakes his head as I wipe the blood off his neck.
"There are only 48 states, ya dead battery." Mouthpiece claims as I roll my eyes.
"Ah, what do you know?" Big Deal sighs, laying down on the floor.
"Whatever they are, citizens or who gives a fart, what we know is-" Balkan starts.
"They ain't us." Tiger finishes for him.
"So, spill it, Krazy Kat, what are you thinking?" Balkan asks.
"I'm thinkin’ it's past time for a rumble," Riff says as I hand John the rag to hold to his ear.
"An all-in, all-out, once-and-for-all, winner-takes-all, high-noon-shootout-at-the-O.K. Corral rumble!" Riff finishes, helping some of the Jets up off the floor.
"Wild blue yonder! About time!" Balkan cheers.
"We'll do 'em like we done the Egyptian Kings." Riff assures.
"And the Emeralds," I add.
"And the Bishops," Ice finishes.
"All right, so Tony, Lizzie, and me will sit down with-" Riff begins.
"Tony?" Numbers asks.
"Yeah, Tony," I confirm.
"What's this got to do with Tony?" A-Rab accuses. "He ain't stood with us once since he got out!"
"He's on parole!" I counter. "He's just gotta be careful, is all."
"Yeah, he cannot be runnin’ around-" Riff gets interrupted again.
"Tony's done with the Jets, Riff!" Balkan yells.
"He ain't done with the Jets. Like that's even a thing!" I shout over the growing unrest. "You cannot be done with this family."
"Maybe it wasn't a thing before, but now, Lizzie?" Snowboy pushes to the center of the crowd. "The Lieutenant's right. What are the Jets if we got no territory?"
A few shouts of agreement spread around the group.
"Schrank couldn't tell you the difference between an apple and an orange." Riff smiles and shakes his head. "Look, Tony and Lizzie and me started the Jets 'cause none of us would even be here if it weren't for all of us. And all you know it.”
***I recommend listening to “Jet Song” from the West Side Story (2021) soundtrack during this scene***
“When you're a Jet, you're a Jet all the way,” I sing.
“From your first cigarette to your last dyin’ day,” Riff continues. “When you're a Jet, if the spit hits the fan-”
“You’ve got brothers around, you're a family man!” I walk around the circle, making eye contact with the Jets as I pass them.
“You’re never alone!” Ice adds.
“You’re never disconnected!” I finish.
“You’re home with your own,” All three of us sing together.
“When company’s expected, you’re well-protected!” Ice, Riff, and I begin leading the Jets out onto the street.
“Then you are set with a capital J, which you'll never forget till they cart you away!” Riff leads us down the sidewalk, crossing the street in front of several cars, forcing them to stop for us. “When you’re a Jet, you stay a Jet!”
“So meet Tony and Riff and me at the Dog Days Dance at the gym tonight!” I yell to the Jets behind me.
“We can't rumble at the gym, it'll be lousy with cops!” Action protests.
“And maybe we've had enough trouble with the Puerto Ricans for one day?” Mouthpiece suggests.
“Relax. It's a social mixer. So, we’ll mix until the time’s right to fix the rumble for tomorrow night.” Riff turns to address the crowd of Jets.
“Be there! 10:00 p.m., punctual-like, dressed to kill, walking’ tall!” I announce.
“We always walk tall! We’re Jets!” A-Rab screams.
“The greatest!” Riff smiles before continuing our song. “When you're a Jet, you're the top cat in town.”
Diesel jumps in, “You're the gold-medal kid with the heavyweight crown!”
“When you’re a Jet-” I start.
“You're the swingin’est thing. Little boy, you're a man!” Big Deal grabs John’s shirt, pulling him out into the street.
“Little man, you're a king!” The Jets chorus behind us, no one noticing Anybodys hovering at the back of the crowd.
“The Jets are in gear,” I sing as John walks backwards across the street while we all dance towards him. “Our cylinders are clickin.’”
“The Sharks’ll steer clear,” Riff continues.
“‘Cause every Puerto Rican’s a lousy chicken!” John rejoins the group as we all sing together.
“Here come the Jets like a bat out of hell,” We chorus as we round a corner where a fire hydrant is spraying water all over the sidewalk. “Someone gets in our way, someone don't feel so well.”
“Here come the Jets! Little world, step aside!” We pass a Puerto Rican family drawing with chalk, walking straight through them as if they weren't there. “Better go underground! Better run, better hide!”
“We’re drawin’ the line, so keep your noses hidden!” We run and dance towards the biggest construction site on the island. “We’re hangin’ a sign; Says ‘Visitors Forbidden!’”
“And we ain't kiddin’!” Riff finishes as we sprint toward a massive pile of debris.
“Here come the Jets, yeah! And we’re gonna beat every last buggin’ gang on the whole buggin’ street!” We climb the debris, meeting at the top of the pile.
“On the whole, ever, mother-lovin’ street! Yeah!” We finish with a cheer as a few Jets throw some broken bricks into the air.