Boy, Boy, Crazy Boy

Chapter 1: The Jets

Tony Wyzek and Riff Lorton met when they were twelve and thirteen respectively.

No one expected them to get along. Including themselves. They were, somehow, polar opposites and practically the same person.

Tony was always easily popular; he was charismatic, funny, quick-thinking, and a natural leader. Everyone looked up to him in some way, even the people that hated the boy thought well of him. Everywhere he went, it was like people flocked to him; teachers praised him, kids respected him, and adults said he would go far.

He was always the first to laugh and crack jokes with the other kids and had a habit of grabbing the runt of the litter, the outcasts, and the underdogs and pulling them into the group. And when you were friends with Tony, you were instantly protected. If someone insulted him, or one of his crowd... let's just say he earned himself a reputation. Everyone wanted to be his friend; no one wanted to be his enemy.

Well, almost no one.

Riff was, for lack of a better word, different. Anyone who knew him as a child would swear up and down that the kid didn't smile once until he was at least thirteen. But he earned his own reputation, of a different sort.

Every shop owner in town knew his face, every cop knew his name, and every kid knew both.

He had always been reckless, even for a middle school boy, which only spurred on one of the many misconceptions people had about the young boy: that he didn't think through his actions. No, he thought through everything. From borrowing a pencil from the kid sitting next to him, to pickpocketing old ladies on the street, Riff thought through every possible outcome, consequence, and chain of events. Then he ignored those thoughts and did whatever the hell he wanted.

But it's like I said before, Tony just could never leave a runt alone, and Riff was about as runty as they come.

And of course, Riff noticed Tony one day and said to himself, 'Why don't I rob this kid?', so, naturally, he started watching him; not stalking per se, merely... observing.

And so, as was inevitable, one day the two boys met, in an... interesting way.

<~•~•~>

Tony was just leaving his small school when he was roughly yanked into an alley.

"Really?!"

Tony looked down in surprise, to see a scrawny kid standing in front of him, an annoyed expression on his face.

"Ten cents. That's it?!"

"W-what?" Tony stuttered. 

"I take the time out of my day to rob you and all you have is a lousy ten cents?!"

'Ah,' Tony thought. He knew who this guy was, every kid on the West Side did.

"I don't think you can blame me for not having money when you're the one who robbed me."

The shorter boy turned away, shaking his head. "You're insufferable."

"And you're a coward." Tony stated plainly.

The other whirled back around. "What. Did. You. Say?" He growled, emphasizing each word with a step.

"You're a coward," Tony repeated calmly. "And you're scared."

"Do I look scared to you?" The kid growled out, hands curled into fists at his sides.

The taller was undaunted. "Yes. Pretty much always."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Demanded his opposer, one hand still at his side while the other grabbed a fistful of Tony's shirt.

Tony opened his mouth and the words came poring out before he could stop them. "It means that even though you pick fights with everyone you see, and you act like you like bein' alone, and you've been stealing from every shop in town since you were five, you're still scared, daddy-o. You're scared of the world and everythin' in it." He met the boy's eyes and something seemed to pass between them. "Of everyone in it."

There was a momentary silence when Tony braced himself to get punched. Instead, the kid cleared his throat and broke their eye contact. 

"Well," The shorter boy started. "That was a nice lil speech. Bit too deep for me though kid." He roughly stuck out his hand. "Riff Lorton."

"I know." Tony flashed him a grin and shook his hand. "Tony Wyzek."

"I know." Riff copy-catted. "I know a lot about you. Antone."

"Oh yeah?" Tony scoffed. "Like what?"

"I know your daily routine." Riff said easily, the words rolling right off his tongue. "I know your parents' names. I, obviously, know where you go to school. I know where you live. I know a lot about you, buddy boy." 

In all honesty, only one of those was true. Well, one and a half. He knew where Tony went to school, and he had a vague idea of his daily routine. The rest was pure bullshit.

"So you're a stalker." Tony seemed unconcerned, despite the accusation.

"No." Riff responded automatically. "I just keep tabs on who's in my territory."

Tony laughed, and Riff was floored by the wonder of the sound. "Man, you sound like a gang leader, talkin' 'bout territory like that."

"Gang leader?" Riff scoffed. "That'll be the day."

They looked at each other for a moment before Riff clapped Tony on the shoulder and turned to go. "Well, I'd better get goin'. Nice meetin' you kid."

He made it about two steps before a voice stopped him.

"Wait!"

Riff turned around, one eyebrow raised.

"When-... Uh, you-..." Tony swallowed thickly. "A-are you gonna stop by again?"

Riff looked at him, dead in the eyes, his go-to move. It generally freaked people out, but Tony held his gaze.

"Do you want me to?"

Tony looked at his shoes, kicking the gravel, before admitting. "Yeah, I, uh... I'd like that."

Riff chuckled. "Then I will." He tipped an imaginary hat at the taller boy, and moved to leave again.

"When?"

The shorter couldn't help but smile at that. Someone wanted to see him. And someone wasn't very shy about it either.

"Who knows, buddy boy. You'll have to wait and see."

This time, Riff fully left the alley, a real smile, small but there, growing on his face.

Tony stayed where he was for a few minutes, then cracked a wide grin, practically skipping home.

<~•~•~>

Eventually, years later, through the combined leadership of the two boys, a gang was formed, called 'the Jets.'