You stay a Jet!

Authors Note:

I have just attended a wonderful showing of West Side Story at the Pantages Theatre in Hollywood (the long drive was totally worth it!) and I was awfully disturbed by the abrupt, depressing ending. However, I was given hope by the openness of the two…intimate…scenes that took place, first with Tony and Maria, and then with A-rab and Anita (whether or not that could be considered "intimate"). I was inspired. So, here I am, writing once more! Please note- all racism against Puerto Ricans is strictly in character. I do not have anything against Puerto Ricans. Also note that I do not take Spanish as my foreign languages (Italian) so therefor I shall be using Google translate for Spanish when applicable. Thank you for your time, please enjoy the fan fiction!

Chapter One:

I woke up in a cold sweat, the dead, bloodied, and bruised faces of the dead boys tattooed to my eyelids. Every time I blink, they are there. Uncle Bernardo, and Riff…he knew my father, according to my god mama Anita, my only source of information about my papa.

"OLIVIA!"

I cut off my mother's angered wailing with a scream down the hall, "COMING!" I cried, stepping onto the cold wood floor and pulling a robe over my thin blue nightgown. I hurry toward the kitchen, nearly tripping as I rush.

"What took you so long?" Maria asked, washing a syrup-covered dish with a bright pink sponge that looks like a watermelon slice.

I don't answer, and I pick up a plate, scooping up some fluffy yellow scrambled eggs and some pale blue yogurt, before sitting down at the table.

Mama sighed and set the dish down, looking over at me. "Your god mama and Rita are coming today, so you need to look nice." She tells me, looking over my pale skin with a disapproving eye that makes my heart sink. "You look too much like your papa…" she tells me wistfully, busying herself once again with her dish-washing.

I again choose not to respond, and hurry back to my room. Balancing on one foot, I pull a pair of dark jeans over my skinny legs and a dark blue long sleeved fuzzy shirt over my small frame. I'm taller than my mother, at about 5'8 at the age of 14. Well, almost 15. Tomorrow I'll be 15. Either way, I'm very tall and slim, but I'm much tougher and stronger than I look. Hey, I beat a tough as nails Check once in a fight and he's a guy twice my size. Before that, I felt like I was only in the gang because of my heritage. I even heard them talking about me once.

"Why is she even here, why do we let 'er in!?"

"'Cus she's Tony's girl, that's why. You know that!"

Tony's girl, that's all I am. I'm the daughter of Tony and Maria.

You know everyone thought after Tony died, the gangs would stop. And for a while, they did. Then the Jets ran out of people to blame, things to do. So they and a couple new kids formed a new gang, and the former Sharks formed theirs. No longer Sharks and Jets, but now the Flyboys and the Checks. It's another generation now, and most of the original members are dead, a couple exceptions. If they're not dead, they're not part of the gangs. I pull a white skirt over my jeans so my mama won't suspect anything, and rush out the door, my blue bandana hidden under my sleeve. It's summer now, so no school and I meet the gang under the docks. I rip off my skirt and throw it down in the sand.

"Aw, Risky doesn't like her skirt, does she?" Red snickered, watching me tie the laces of my black sneakers. He's a funny guy, Red, and I often wonder what goes through his head. He's tall, muscular, and good looking, with curly blonde-brown hair that falls in front of his face. They started giving kids real names, none of this weird noun as names crap. So we came up with our own gang names that you get in our little initiation. Red has a real nice name, I believe, but I don't bother using it. Same thing with me and Risky, it's a nickname.

I shrug my shoulders and tie my blue Flyboys bandana around my ankle, then stand and brush the sand off of me.

"You're no fun, Risk." Red mumbles, pouting and crossing his arms.

I chuckle and brush a loose strand of hair out of my face. "Say, are the rest of the guys gonna meet us or what?" I ask, tapping my foot. As if on cue, Grease and Dodger show up out of the shadows. Grease has his dark hair slicked back, his muscular frame makes Dodger, one of the smaller of the gang, look like a toothpick with a blonde wig.

"'Sup Risky." Dodger greets me, waving at me.

"Sup." I reply, staring at Grease. He only gets that look when he's really upset about something, and doesn't want you to know. "Grease?" I ask my voice low and stiff. He glances at me out of the corner of his eyes, his blue bandana tied around his head and his sleeves ripped off of his plain white shirt. As I study his sleeves, I notice a red stain under the space he's hiding by his crossed arms. I sigh and walk over to him, grabbing his wrists and jerking his arms down. A stain the color of blood appears before my eyes, which Grease refuses to meet.

"Explain." I tell him, gesturing defeated at the evidence. He crosses his arms back over the stain and glares at me, meeting my eyes for a fleeting second before responding.

"I don't take orders from little girls." He mumbles, turning away.

I gape at him. Dodger's jaw drops, and Red lets out a long, low pitched whistle.

"What did you just say to me?" I ask Grease, my voice deadly calm and my hands clenched into fists by my side. He doesn't respond, and his back is still turned to me. I march myself in front of him and slap him hard across the face. He doesn't retaliate besides a gruff "ahem", which only makes me more and more furious. "GREASE" I screech, aiming a kick at his shins. He clenches his jaw, but there is no other response. "WAKE UP." I demand, snapping my fingers in front of his face.

"THAT'S IT!" He finally cracks, swinging a punch at me, which I dodge by dropping to my knees. That was my first mistake. He kicks me hard in the ribs, sending me sprawling onto my back, at which time he pins me down, smacking the side of my head with his strong hand. My ear pops, and I can feel blood beginning to trickle down the side of my head as I struggle in Grease's grip, shaking my head furiously. I know Dodger and Red and maybe some of the other guys are yelling at us to stop, but I can't see or hear them. They don't exist. They don't matter. I manage to pull my legs up, and kick Grease hard in the gut with all my might, and he loosens his grip for long enough that I can get on top of him. That was my second mistake. With little effort, Grease throws me off of him, and lands a punch at my face. I reel backwards, and spit out blood, already feeling my left eye swelling up. I manage to scramble to my feet, and get into a defensive stance, before someone picks me up and throws me over their shoulder effortlessly. I kick and scream, as Penguin tries to calm me down. I pound my fists onto his back, screaming at him to put me down. His muscles are tight under my hands, and I know I'm not going to win this fight. I pull hard on a fistful of curly, short, brown hair, strands coming off through my fingers, and Penguin jerks his head away from my grasp, as my fingers close around open air. I hear the argument between Dodger and Grease behind me, Red contributing his own opinion.

"GREASE, YOU'RE GONNA KILL HER!" Dodger shouts, gesturing to me. I howl in rage and spit blood onto the ground.

Grease stammers an argument of his own, which is quickly interrupted by Red. "SHES ONE OF THE GANG!"

"SHE'S A GIRL!"
"YEAH, SO!?"

"WELL SHE CANT JUST—"

Dodger silences him quickly, saying "She can too. You ain't the gang leader here, Grease, Donnyboy is and he ain't here yet. So you can't say what she can and what she can't." Penguin puts me down, holding my waist as I lunge at Grease, furious. As my movements are restricted, I can't do much harm at all, besides create a slight breeze as I furiously wave my arms and kick up sand onto the shoes of the boy behind me, his firm hands stopping my attack.

"Listen buddy boy..." Dodger begins, sighing. "We's all Flyboy's here, ain't we?"

As I lay limp, panting, supported only by the arms of Penguin, My navy blue f tattoo on my left shoulder is revealed as my shirt hangs lopsided on my thin frame. Penguin drops me, bringing me stumbling to my feet, and flexes his biceps, showing off his own f. Red pulls his shirt down at the back of his neck, showing his tattoo, and Dodger shows his on his ankle. Seemingly out of nowhere, Donnyboy stumbles in, and shows his own tattoo on his side. We all nod slowly, and then silence falls. Grease and I both look up at each other, glaring. It seems the fight is about to break out again, when Donnyboy starts to snap his fingers in a slow, steady rhythm.

Snap, snap, snap, snap, snap, snap, snap.

One by one we all join in. Donnyboy cracks a smile. "So, I figure I don't want to know, eh?"

I smirk slightly. "Yep."