It was impossible for Tony to deny the sincerity of Riff’s appeal, impossible to erase the history of years together, back to back. In bright, clear, and focused tableaux, scene after scene crowded into the first rank of Tony’s memory, kicked there by his conscience. Still, he did not want to give in.

“Riff, I’ve had it.” He wished that he had spoken more emphatically, but his throat felt clogged. “All the way.”

“The trouble is large, Tony,” Riff replied, for he had noticed the weakness of his friend’s reply. It was an effort not to appear exhilarated, but he made it successfully. “The Sharks bite hard, Tony. We gotta stop them now or get out of here.” He paused for Tony to appreciate how desperate the situation was before stretching a hand to plead for help. “I never asked the time of day from a clock, but I’m asking you. It’s help I need, Tony. All in capital letters. We want to see you at the center tonight. They’re having a dance.”

Tony turned away. “I can’t make it.”

“I already told the boys you’d be there,” Riff replied.

Angry at being committed without being asked, Tony was tempted to throw a hard left at his friend. Then he realized why Riff had done it. Because Riff still thought of Tony as his friend, his best friend. Maybe he didn’t feel the same way about Riff, but that didn’t excuse his letting Riff down. Not only Riff, but all the Jets, the whole neighborhood.

He didn’t like Bernardo and the Sharks. No one had invited them to come here and if the battle was on, there was no point in asking who was responsible. It was on, that’s what mattered, and Riff had appealed to him not as a Jet, but as a friend.

The night he had walked away from the Jets he had told them that he wanted Riff to take over. He had put Riff out front. Now it was his responsibility, no getting around that, to keep Riff walking ahead of everyone else.

Tony grinned. “I didn’t want to buy what you’re selling, but I didn’t know what kind of a pitchman I was up against.”

“Ten o’clock?” Riff asked.

“Ten it is,” Tony replied. “You know something? I’ve got a feeling I’m gonna live to regret this.”

Throwing jabs, Riff shadow-boxed. “Who knows? Maybe what you’re waitin’ for’ll be twitchin’ at the dance! Man, when was the last time you had it?” he roared. “See you!”

A bank of clouds moved overhead, shutting out the sun. Tony felt trapped in the hot, narrow yard as dismal as the walls and dark windows above him. He cursed himself for not having been firmer, for not having turned Riff down. Once and for all he should have made it clear for even the stupidest to see.

He should have carried through on his plan to go to the beach. And as he sat on the shore, the taste of salt on his lips, his fingers digging into the sand and his eyes on the stars, something might have happened. The magic thing that he was groping for might have cannonballed right out of the sky.