Who Knows || Riff (West Side Story 2021)

Chapter 1

𝟷𝟸. 𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟿𝟻𝟻

It was December of 1955, and the snow was piled high on the island of Manhattan. The pavement was seldom seen beneath the blanket of white, though the blood and other bodily fluids stained there wouldn't be missed. Christmas was just around the corner, and the festivities became visible on the streets. In such a time like theirs, the world was changing, and maybe it was for the better.

     For the first time in a while, Rose Everly felt calm walking alone on the morning streets. Though there were others around, bustling to reach the subway, and ride their bikes, it didn't worry her. Rose's heart was warm, and even in the cold winter, it stopped her from freezing.

     The eighteen-year-old girl was on her way to work, like everyone else. This was the time of day she would use to think. There wasn't much else to do, really.

    So, as she paced the streets, on her way to the post office, Rose Everly thought of the fun she and her brothers would have. They always came to the apartment at Christmas, that was the rules. Whoever owned it at the time was in charge of the upkeep. For the past two years, Rose had been in possession, only because of her brothers travelling to and from England to visit their Dad. After the loss of their Mum, he had decided that living in the same place that she did was the worst idea possible.

     Rose hadn't seen him in a year. Her brothers sent her letters, and so did he, but Rose hadn't seen her Dad in a year. She missed him, and she regretted it all.

     She'd visit him soon, she was sure of it. If she had the time of work, then she would go. In Manhattan, you can't afford to miss a day. Each day is part of a payment that you can't afford to miss. If she did, if Rose decided to go, then they would lose the apartment. Their mothers apartment.

     But it was only a few days until Christmas, and only a few days until she was surrounded by family once again. That was all she cared about.

     As she turned the corners, Rose hummed to herself. No tune in particular, maybe one she had heard from the passing drunkards when the days were dark. An Irish tavern was just up the street, and most days, it made the nights terrifying.

    "I've heard your voice in the mountain." Rose sang quietly to herself. "I've heard your voice in the street. I know you, and you know me to. We've met in another-"

     Something cut off the girl with dark hair. A crash. Shouts of men who didn't care.

     The Jets.

     The most fearsome gang in the west side of Manhattan. For a few years they ruled their side with an iron fist, or rather, a bone one. Rose had never gotten close to them, and never planned to. The mere thought of running into them was a frightening one, so she stayed clear. That way, she knew nothing.

    Rose stepped down the street as her dark hair blew to the left as a breeze began to blow. That's when she saw what was across the road.

    A group of teenagers had stumbled out of an alley, bruises littering their skin, cuts galore, blood running down their flesh. Rose could guess what they'd done. They'd gone onto the Jet's territory and tried to take it. That wouldn't be a good idea for anyone, anywhere.

  "Think you're tough?" A voice called out, loudly. One of the Jet's, Rose didn't care which. She didn't look: she just kept moving away. The less attention on her, the better.

  "Look man..." a teenage boy quaked.

  "No, you, look man! Stay off our land, and you won't have any trouble. Alright?"