I'm really not sure what I think of this one yet, I feel like the whole storyline sounds very forced. I plan to revise this chapter so any comments and suggestions will be a great help. Especially if you have an opinion on whether I should continue writing it in modern day or not.
Also, I felt like New York today wouldn't really work for this type of story, so I'm taking a risk and setting it in the fictional small town of Cherrent, let me know what you think.
Enjoy!
- Cassie.
Disclaimer: I do not own West Side Story, just aspects of the storyline.
Chapter 1
Doc's was one of the few cafes in Cherrent that wasn't air-conditioned, which meant it wasn't packed with the usual crowd of youths desperate to avoid the dry summer heat. This was why Riff had always thought it to be the perfect hangout for the Jets. The Jets where the gang that he, along with his friend Tony, had started about 4 years ago. Riff was their leader. Before that he was a lost boy, without a trace of ambition or purpose, convinced his life would amount to nothing just as his fathers had done. Now he was respected, though it had become much more than that. The Jets where his family.
It was 3 o'clock, Riff realised, and they had wasted the day doing almost nothing. Some thought differently, believing the tower of salt and pepper shakers they had built to be a valuable use of time.
"You know why I like hanging around with you guys?" Actions asked, looking at something on his phone. Before anyone could reply, he kicked the leg of the table holding the tower of shakers, which then tipped to the floor with loud clattering.
"Oh screw you, man. You hang out with us because no one else will put up with you," A-Rab said back, throwing a sugar packet at him.
"That's not true, your mum put up with me last night," Action sent back.
Ice, the tallest, toughest and quietest Jet, casually retrieved the shakers that had rolled his way and put them back on tables, before indicating for the others to do the same. Ice was the unofficial second in command of the Jets. Much unlike most the others, he kept a cool head on his shoulders at all times. Baby John saw him as a sort or superhero, ready to help anyone in need. Though he kept mainly to himself, Ice was also the most adored by women, who found him mysterious and mature. This of course only reinforced his standing as a superhero. Ice didn't talk much. He had the ability to communicate practically anything by way of a single look.
As the last salt shaker was collected off the floor, the door to the Café opened, allowing a group of teenagers entry. They made no move towards a table or the counter, just looked to the boys sitting in the corner. Riff stared straight back. The tension was broken briefly by Doc, who owned the Café, walking in through the backroom holding a bag of coffee beans.
"Can I get you boys anything?" he asked warily, made nervous by the intense looks being shared between the two groups
"No we're good," one of the boys replied, though continued to stare directly as Riff.
"How about you ladies?" Doc then asked, drawing attention to the two girls Riff hadn't even noticed were there. The brunette shook her head and smiled. The blonde showed no sign of hearing the question.
"Is this the why we're here?" the blonde asked, sounding frustrated. "This is so stupid." She stormed back out the door. Riff could see her waiting outside the Café, looking impatient.
Some of the second group of teens snickered, but the Jets kept straight faces. The boy who had spoken earlier made his way to a table close to the Jets, followed by the others. Though the brunette girl chose to take a seat at the counter, rolling her eyes.
They all sat in silence for a while, staring at each other, waiting for someone to make the first move. "What do you want, Oliver?" Riff eventually asked the boy facing him from the table over.
"Do we need a reason to be in here?" Oliver replied, feigning innocence.
"Come off it," Action said angrily, rising from his seat. "You know this is our spot, what do you want?"
Doc hurried to them as the rest went to stand. "If any of you are wanting trouble you can take it outside."
The Jets made no move to leave, still staring at the boys across from them. Oliver held up his hands. "Hey, we weren't looking for any trouble. We'll be going, yeah? Come on, guys."
The group followed their leader out of Doc's, joining the girl who was still leaning against the window outside.
"You boys are going to scare all my business away," said Doc, retreating back through the door he had come from.
"We are your business, Doc," Action called after him, before turning to the others.
"What is their problem?" He asked them, emphasizing every word. Action was someone with a fuse shorter than he was. What he lacked in height he made up for in pent up aggression.
"Want their damn asses kicked," A-Rab suggested. This was met with a murmur of agreement.
"Well don't go startin' anything on your own again," said Baby John. "That was stupid enough the first time."
"Hey I didn't start that, I just made a joke. They took it way too seriously." A-Rab's hand went automatically to the small cut on his cheek while the Jets collectively rolled their eyes at him.
A-Rab was, primarily and famously, a smartass. Composed of sarcasm and backtalk, he was a magnet for trouble and people knew that. Parents would tell their kids to stay away from him, that he was a bad influence and they were probable right. He got himself into about as much trouble as Action, though unlike him, A-Rab did this on an almost entirely verbal basis. A-Rab took nothing seriously, until it came to his best friend and youngest Jet, Baby John.
As his name suggested, Baby John was the Baby of the Jets. At least a grade bellow all the others with a face that was, though made up of features that would turn him into a handsome man, hidden beneath a constant look of awe and confusion. Baby John often tried to appear tougher than he was, but didn't have a mean bone in his body. This made him an easy target and all the Jets, especially A-Rab, though he'd never admit it, where protective of him.
"Yeah well I don't know what they're trying to do," Riff joined in. "They show up wherever we are, act like they want to start something and then bugger off."
Snowboy took a break from trying to balance his chair on two of its legs. "They're just trying to act tough. Want to go home and tell everyone they had a run in with a bunch of violent hoodlums."
This lightened the tension enough for the Jets to continue with other conversations, forgetting the YS's.
YS, short for 'YOLO Swaggers' which A-Rab had initially taken to calling the rich kids of Cherrent. It didn't take long for it to catch on. They were the kids with nice houses, nice cars and nice families. They spent most their time in the North of town, only coming down to places like Docs to feel like they're living on the wild side before they went back to their rich kid school.
Of course they weren't really 'rich kids'. They didn't all drive Mercedes' and spend their weekends at social clubs, but in the town of Cherrent there was a definite line separating the well off from the not so well off.
The rest of the day passed quickly, and everyone split up to return home before the street lights went out, and the infamous officer Krupke would drive around threatening to arrest kids for 'loitering'. Riff's mind wandered back to the YS kids on his way home. He could tell they wanted to start something. There had always been tension between them, but now they were looking for it.
It was only Tony's mother there when he got home. He had been living at Tony's since his we was 15 as his only other option was his unemployed drunk of an uncle. Tony's father was an accountant and worked late this time of year, and Tony was away for a few days with some of his new, older friends. He had invited Riff to come along, but it was obviously out of politeness. They both new Riff wouldn't fit in with the older, more tame crowd and so he declined, stating he'd rather poke his eyes out than spend a weekend with a bunch of college bound bores.
He greeted his adoptive mother briefly before retiring up to Tony's room, in which was the older boy's gaming console he allowed Riff to use so long as he didn't beat any of his high scores.