Becoming a Jet

CHAPTER 1

"IM SORRY!" Isabella screamed, trying to crawl away from her mother and father.

"GET BACK HERE! IM NOT FINISHED!" Her mother yelled, hitting her three more times with a belt.

This was a regular occurrence at Isa's house. Her parents were mad at her because she didn't make a good impression on her father's boss, who was going to give him a pay raise.

*<*>*<*>*

Isabella was asleep in her bed mumbling.

Isabella's POV:

RIINNNG...

RIIIINNNGGGGG...

RRRRRIIIIINNNNGGGGG...

RIIIIII-

"Shut up." Isabella said, half asleep.

Isa got dressed and was putting her shoes on when she heard yelling outside. She opened her window and she saw the Jets walking down the street with paint cans. She decided to climb down her fire escape and follow them to wherever they were going. She was walking down the sidewalk when one of the Puerto Rican street vendors started yelling at her angrily in broken English, and brandishing a beer bottle.

"Hey!! What you doing?! What you doing?!"

"What? I'm sorry sir?"

"What you doi-"

"Hey man, stop yelling at her. She wasn't doing nothin'."

He went back into his store and sat down to drink another beer.

"Sorry about the PR." The guy said, sitting down on a nearby bench.

"It wasn't your fault. What's yours?" I said, sitting down too. (sometimes i don't say what's your name i just say what's yours so it's not a typo😌)

"Call me Riff."

"I'm Isabella. What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a mechanic."

Liar. She knew he was the leader of the Jets. He was just too ashamed to say he didn't make good money. Like I cared about money.

"That's nice."

"What are those marks on your arm?" Riff asked, as he noticed the black bruises on my arm.

"Oh. They're bruises. I fell yesterday." I said, looking at them.

"And those cuts?" He said, looking at my wrist.

"It doesn't matter." I said standing up to leave

"Okay but at least come to Doc's with me so I can clean 'em up." He said standing up.

"Fine."