Chapter 1: A Chance Encounter

"Anita, por favor, I am going to be late for work," I plead, but my pleas go unheeded as Anita continues to pick and prod at the unfinished garment she has wrapped around my waist.

"No llegarás tarde. I'm almost done…unless you don't want to go to the dance next week?" She raises her eyes to mine, a puzzled expression on her face and a mocking smile on her lips.

I sigh loudly and remain still so she can finish and I can go without interruption. Anita laughs and grins as she tucks another pin into the hem of the skirt. I've only been in New York for a few months after moving from Puerto Rico. When our father was ill, I stayed at home to care for him while my brother went ahead. We were both looking forward to visiting him in New York once he started feeling better. Regrettably, he never did. Eventually, Papa died, and I was left with no choice but to leave San Juan. I moved across the ocean to New York City to live with my elder brother Bernardo and his girlfriend Anita, who had always treated me as if I were her younger sister.

Bernardo had scarcely permitted me to leave the house for three months, save to go to work. Anita had helped me persuade him to let me attend the school dance, my first social event in America. I was overjoyed, especially because Anita had offered to make me a dress for the occasion, which is why I was still standing in her makeshift workroom in the kitchen, trying not to get stuck with needles.

"Make sure the dress is not too revealing," said Bernardo as he came out of he and Anita's room, "I do not want those gringos to have a reason to look at her with their garbage eyes."

Anita rolled her eyes, only to raise her head to kiss Bernardo on the lips as he bent to kiss hers. "Si, Si. What do you think I'm going to do? Send her out looking like she's open for business?"

"You could make the neckline lower." Anita got a hopeful grin from me.

Bernardo came over to kiss my face and point his finger in my direction on his way to the refrigerator. "Don't be cute, Isabella. You don't know the Jets. They are the scum of the street making trouble wherever they can. They don't need a reason to bother you, but I don't want to give them one either."

"So you say." Since my arrival, the only thing I've ever been cautioned against is the Jets. A gang of tall, skinny white youths that roamed around the streets picking fights, vandalizing property, and generally making the lives of any Puerto Rican they came across miserable. As a result, it came as no surprise to me when I found that Bernardo had formed a rival group known as the Sharks. When it came to fighting and protecting, my brother had a natural instinct for it, which served him well throughout his boxing career.

Anita delicately removes the clothing from my body after a few more stitches and hems, leaving me in my regular dress. I get off the stool she's had me on and glance at the clock in the corner. It's eleven o'clock. I'll have enough time to get to work if I leave right now.

I grab my bag from the table. "I need to go. I will be back later." I hug Anita and kiss Bernardo on the cheek. "Don't over do it at the boxing ring today, okay? Anita and I are tired of cleaning your bruises everyday."

"Deberías ver a los otros chicos cuando termine con ellos." Bernardo bursts out laughing, pounding the air aggressively as if to demonstrate his dominance.

"English," Anita reprimands, "And Isa's right. No soy enfermera."

Following Anita, Bernardo approaches her from behind and wraps his arms around her waist, swaying a little, before putting a kiss on her neck. "But you would look so good in the uniform, no crees?"

Anita leans tantalizingly close to him, laughing. "Get your head out of the gutter."

Prior to leaving the apartment complex, I give them both a nice grin as I exit the front door and descend the stairwell. However, despite the fact that I am only two years younger than both of them, Bernardo and Anita have been together since we were children. They would play together and spend time together, and Bernardo would always be there to defend Anita from any neighborhood boys who may torment her. Almost as if it were the only thing that made sense for them to do, they moved on from the sandbox and into a relationship. And that didn't bother me since they never made me feel like I was the odd one out among them, and Anita had always been like family to me. I was envious of their love, but I also admired it tremendously.

Getting to the marketplace, which was just about 5 blocks away from the apartment, didn't take too long at all. Located between what was considered Shark and Jet territory, this little length of block included many convenience stores as well as a baker, a pizza parlor, and a clothing shop, all in close proximity to one another. It served as a neutral zone for both gangs, which was one of the primary reasons Bernardo consented to let me work there. Even still, seeing the white males in their jeans and white shirts made me feel a little apprehensive at times.

I worked in a bakery run by a lovely elderly man named Manuel, who was also originally from San Juan and who was a fantastic host. My entrance into the bakery was signaled by a bell that hung over the entrance door. The bakery already smelled like sweet bread and pastries, which were baked fresh in the store every day by Manuel. It was his responsibility to bake, and it was my responsibility to stand at the counter and sell his goods, which wasn't difficult to accomplish. Almost every Puerto Rican within a 10-mile radius was aware of Manuel's bakery and the delectable sweets it offered. It reminded me of having a true flavor of home.

Manuel emerged from the rear kitchen, a cloth in his fingers, wiping the flour off his bare hands. "Isa! ¡Estás aquí! I was worried. You're usually early. Is everything alright? Bernardo and Anita okay?"

I smiled as I held out my hand in feigned submission to his interrogation and shook my head. "I'm fine, Manuel. Todo esta bien. Anita is making me a dress for the school dance next week. She had to fit it and she wouldn't let me leave. You know how hard it is to say no to Anita."

"Aye, that girl is a feisty senorita. Reminds me of my Sofia. She had a fire to her as well, one that captured my heart before she had ever said two words to me back in San Juan."

"I wish I could have met her."

"Me too. She would have loved you. Una hermosa niña con cerebro es un regalo para el mundo, she used to say. And you have both, mija." Manuel was quite fond of talking about his late wife, who had passed away some time before I arrived in Manhattan. I didn't mind because I enjoyed listening. According to what he told me, she sounded bigger than life, unafraid to be herself and grasp any opportunity that came her way, just like Anita.

As I made my way around the rear of the display counter, I put my bag on the floor. "Time to open isn't it?"

As Manuel looked at the clock, he placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. "Good eye. Wouldn't want to lose any business. Go open the gates. I still have some goods to put on display." He returned to the kitchen and disappeared.

I stepped out the front door, snatching the key to the closed gates before I left. When I opened one side of the enormous window, I used all of my might to push the gate to the side until it constricted and locked itself in that position, where it would remain until the bakery closed. A noise coming from down the street caught my attention as I was making my way toward the barred gate on the other end. There was a cacophony of voices yelling and laughing as they got closer. Coming from around the corner and down the opposite walkway, the Jets roared onto the street. They were as raucous as ever, marching tall and proudly as if they owned the entire road they were traveling on. Women went to my sidewalk in order to escape being passed by them. Retailers returned to their establishments, closing doors and avoiding eye contact. As I stood there watching it all occur, I sneered. Who did the Jets believe they were in the first place? These people were simply attempting to live their lives freely, and the Jets had no choice but to show up and cause problems wherever they traveled. And, to my further dismay, they all sat themselves down on the stairs just across the street, which went out of the marketplace neighborhood and into Jet territory. I thought it would be best if I went back inside and avoided eye contact, but I couldn't stop myself from keeping an eye on things. Despite the fact that their presence made me feel uneasy, I was not going to let them scare me away like the rest of the crowd. In that regard, I believe Bernardo and I were on the same page.

For a brief while, I returned to my previous duties of pushing the gates open. It took me until I was halfway through the last gate before my gaze returned to the Jets, who appeared to have become louder, though this may have been due to the quiet street. They began passing a package of cigarettes around the group, allowing each member to choose one or refuse one at their discretion. The final person to receive the package was a young boy who was seated and leaning back on the stairway in the center of the brigade that had divided long enough for me to see him. Although he was tall even in his relaxed stance, he was also skinny; he wasn't emaciated, but he was thin enough that I assumed he didn't always know where his next meal would come from. Despite the fact that his dark brown hair was slicked back with grease, his jawline was sharp and angular, almost as though it had been cut out of stone. He pressed a cigarette to his lips and struck a match on the stairway's stairwell wall. As he lit his cigarette, his gaze glanced upward and grabbed mine.

Even after his cigarette had been lit and his match had been extinguished, he continued to maintain eye contact with me. He wasn't going to break it, and I couldn't either. What exactly was going on? It was as though I had been transfixed. When my body wouldn't move, my breathing became more labored, and the sounds that had been so loud a second before had faded away into oblivion. It was just him and me with our eyes locked on one other. He took a drag from his cigarette and puffed out smoke in a motion that was nearly instinctive for him. Then, almost out of nowhere, he grinned at me, a crooked grin that reached his eyes and displayed the dimples in his cheeks.

"Isa!" came Manuel's voice from the front door.

Whatever trance I had been under had been broken at this moment. "Wha…? Oh, I'm sorry. I just…"

"Come inside, mija." He looked over at the Jets for a moment before returning his gaze to me and motioning with his hand for me to come back in. "You shouldn't be out here."

Following Manuel back inside the house, I hurriedly completed the chore at hand before dashing to the front door. Just as I was about to close the door behind me, I ventured to turn around and glance back at the boy who had captured my attention only seconds before. And, to my amazement or horror—I'm not sure which—he was gazing straight back at me.