Chino offered Maria his handkerchief which she used to dab at her eyes. “Do not yell at her, ’Nardo.”

“You have to yell at babies.”

“And that’s what frightens them,” Anita said, as she put an arm around Maria’s shoulder.

“Shut up,” Bernardo warned everyone. “Chino, take her home. No stopping for a soda, right home!”

Maria lowered the handkerchief. “ ’Nardo, please, it’s my first dance. He said nothing…”

“Lucky for you that you’re my sister,” Bernardo said angrily. “Now take her home, Chino.”

There was nothing more to be said, Bernardo felt, and turned away to stride rapidly across the floor to the punch bowl, where he dipped a cup into the cold liquid and drank thirstily. He knew that things were going to come to a head and was anxious to get it over with. Sure he was upsetting his sister, but she deserved to be punished.

Nostrils flaring, Bernardo glared at the Jets and spit to show them what they were. Dirt—less than dirt. Dirt that made dirt of everything they touched, especially girls. By all the saints, they weren’t going to touch a Puerto Rican girl. Not while he lived, could fight, could stab, could kill.

He could see the Jets in a tight group, and the Sharks were also ready. At the door, Chino turned to wave at him, and Bernardo nodded his head, to signal that Chino was to take Maria right home. He dipped his cup again to drink more easily, realized that his heart wasn’t thumping as hard, and felt cool, man, and ready.

In a way he was glad that they were going to have the showdown tonight. Come Monday morning every Puerto Rican in the neighborhood would be able to walk with assurance. Over the rim of the cup, he saw Diesel speaking to Riff and both of them were gesturing happily as they pointed at Tony. But Bernardo wondered why the big Polack kept looking at his sister. It wasn’t a dirty or disrespectful look. Too bad that Maria was going to have to learn about them, but it couldn’t be helped.

He and the Sharks hadn’t insulted the Americans; he and the Sharks had been willing to go along with that stupid Glad Hand and dance with the American girls. So it wasn’t his fault or the fault of any of the Sharks. They wanted a showdown? Great! He wasn’t the man to disappoint them.

He had got the word that the Jets were ready to challenge and that’s why he had ordered the Sharks to come to the dance in full force. The Jets had shown up, which was what he wanted, and the only mistake he had made was permitting Maria to come to this dance. But it was the Americans, the Anglos, who had spoiled her good time.

Jacket closed to the third button, hands thrust into his pockets, Bernardo crossed the floor and stopped about ten feet from Riff. He knew that Pepe, Indio, and Toro were right behind him, watching carefully.