~𝓡𝓲𝓯𝓯 𝔁 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓞𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓼~

Pre-Rumble Jitters

The muffled sound of samba music echoed off the tiled walls and throughout the empty bathroom. You sat in the corner of a stall, reading as the the fluorescent light lit up the pages. Leaning your head back against wall, your eyes darted across the page, completely immersed in the story.

Needless to say, you didn't do well at parties, and you'd only gone because Maria had seemed so enthusiastic about it, but she'd promptly gotten distracted by that Jet-boy Tony, and left you to fend for yourself. You'd been able to exchange polite conversation with a young Puerto Rican couple for all of two minutes before excusing yourself from the scene, rolling your eyes as you caught Maria and Tony heading behind the bleachers.  

The music faded as your shoes tapped against the linoleum floor and into the bathroom, where you locked the stall door and pulled a book out of your bag. Sliding onto the floor, you opened to your current page and let out a breath. Much better.

You'd been reading intently for about ten minutes, finger tapping the spine as you half-listened to the distorted tempo coming from the gym. Flitting through the pages, you checked how many you had left until the next chapter, excitement growing as you realized one of your favorite parts was drawing nearer. You flipped back to your original spot, skimming through the mundane descriptions until you got to the dialogue. Just as you were about to get to the good stuff, you heard the door open, followed by a pair of footsteps, followed by even more footsteps, followed by voices, Shark and Jet voices.

"You want to fight, right?" Came the voice of one Shark as they all strolled into the bathroom, oblivious to your presence. 

"Not here, we gotta set it up."

"Set it up? You mean like a date?" This voice was one you recognized, leader of the Sharks, Bernardo, his tone was mocking.

There was a short silence that followed, the shuffling of feet heard clearly on the floor before a voice you knew all to well spoke up. "All of you, and all of us." 

Riff. Of course it was. 

"We're busy guys," Bernardo responded, this time defensive.

"Mm-hmm," it was Riff's turn to be mocking.

"We're busy guys, we got jobs," The disdain in Bernardo's voice was apparent, "so why should we play on the playground with a bunch of-" 

Riff spoke over Bernardo's raised voice, "Control your territory that's what you get. We keep clear out of your way, you're Jet-free," he paused, "If you win. We win, you see us coming and we will keep coming, you Sharks make like the rats and skedaddle."

The conversation lulled as both sides took in his words, "Where?" Bernardo queried stiffly.

"The river," Riff replied.

"The docks," Bernardo retorted.

"The underpass."

"The rail-yards."

"The salt shed," Riff concluded.

"¿Dónde?" Bernardo asked, clearly expecting one of the Sharks to respond.

"De dónde está 57th and the river," Riff answered rigidly.

 There was the sound of quick footsteps that halted just as soon as they'd begun, "Wait," Bernardo barked. You could only assume that one of the Sharks had tried to approach Riff, no doubt angered by his patronizing tone.

A tense silence followed as you saw the feet of the Shark back away and past you, over to the corner of the room, you held your breath.

"Midnight tomorrow," Riff resolved, and you saw their shoes from under the stall, moving closer to each other as they shook hands.