Chapter Three.
"Start sticking up for ya'self cause you'll get eaten alive out here if you don't and das fa damn sho'." — Qadir N. Bukhara
November 15th, 2011
Baton Rouge High School
"So are you going to text me back?"
Citrus let out an inaudible sigh before slamming her locker door shut. She only wanted to head to first period before the early bell rung. She hated to be caught up in the mob once the late bell rang, because then everything became entirely too crowded and she was far from a people person.
"Why every time I see you, you got this mean ass look on ya' face? You don't talk to nobody buh' the twins, you kno' I ain't never heard you speak befo'?"
Citrus scrunched up her nose. This boy...whoever he was had bad breath and for him to be leaning all up in her vicinity was disrespectful in itself.
"Move back please," She softly whispered mushing him in his chest, the boy sucked his teeth before stepping back a couple steps.
He stuck his fingers into his pockets and looked around the hallway.
Citrus could tell she was wearing his patience thin but nobody told him to come over here and bother her. She only wanted to head to class without anyone pestering her.
"Here," She reached into her Abercrombie and Fitch tote bag that Modi gifted her for her fifteenth birthday. She took her time rummaging through it a bit before she stumbled upon what she was looking for, "Your breath stinks," She extended her hand out which held a stick of juicy fruit gum.
The boy looked her up and down before his whole demoner switched up. He swiftly knocked the gum out her hand before roughly pushing her into the
lockers,
"Fuck you! You fuckin' stuck up ass bitch. I ain't stunting ya' ass in the first place. I tried to get ya' number as a bet but you too black anyways," He spat before mugging her and storming off.
Citrus looked around as a couple bystanders snickered. She was genuinely confused on why the guy responded that way. She felt tears knocking at the back of her eyelids but she quickly sucked them up. Pushing her thick bifocials up off her nose, Citrus leaned down and scooped up the gum before tossing it back into her bag. She then made her way towards first block with her head hung low. She dreaded going there because it was the only class she had to endure without the twins by her side.
She often got ridiculed and teased at the most, during English ten. When it was a known fact that if the twins were by her side she would've remained left alone and unbothered.
After losing her grandmother, the only family she had left. Social Services placed a ten year old Citrus in Motrise's care. Though at ten, Citrus couldn't understand why they would allow the women who later on married her grandmother's killer, take her into full custody. Yet, it was written in her grandmother's will.
Carla had this all planned out from the day Noel died. She wanted her granddaughter to be around those who made her most comfortable. Of course she didn't plan on being killed by a person she looked at as a second son. Though, knowing Carla with her even being dead; she couldn't hold an ounce of hate in her heart. Her soul had forgiven Dewayne a long time ago.
However, Citrus was very much living and Citrus had not.
She blamed him for majority of her unhappiness. She blamed him for destroying her soul and her humanity. She put him at fault for leaving her with such a love sick woman such as Modi. For the life of her she could not understand how somebody could be so weak and ill minded when it came to somebody or something. Dewayne was a terrible human being who used Modi's weakness as an advantage.
Though, Citrus couldn't just fault one.
She faulted Modi because she let it get to that point. Continuously, running back to a man who was abusive and only cared for himself got her absolutely nothing. She just ended up with bruises, three kids that she now had to raise on her own, a broken heart, and a wedding ring that meant nothing. Especially when you exchanged vows with your husband through a jail cell. Modi was sick and Citrus vowed to never allow any man to bring her to that point.
Dewayne had done a ton of overall damage to Citrus. He also put a huge dent in her relationship with the twins. Even though he was sentenced to life in jail for two murders along with a plethora of other crimes. She couldn't help but to see him in both Briana and Braelin. She considered them friends, no doubt. She kept them close, absolutely. However, it was always to a certain extent. She had become such a closed up individual. She hardly let others in and she stayed to herself majority of the time. Due of this, Citrus was targeted throughout her school days.
She was also picked on because of her appearance, her oval shaped glasses with the thickest clear lenses. The train tracks that ran across both row of teeth. Her smooth, blemish free, sard skin. And her stocky built physique. She was on the shorter side around five foot five. Rather than being slim thick, she was just thick. With a round, fitted butt and a chubby pudge for a stomach to match. Citrus had went through puberty but it didn't hit her in the way she wished. In her eyes she was simply an ugly duckling, she felt like she didn't inherit her mother's innocent beauty or her grandmother's goddess like attractiveness.
Citrus at this point hated herself and the life that she was forced to live due to her surroundings growing up.
Quickly as she could she managed to make it to class a little after the second bell rang. Her teacher, gave her a look of confusion before shaking his head and marking her tardiness onto his attendance sheet. She took her seat and soon to follow was the little chatter that could be heard from outside the classroom door, coming to a halt once Clint Tara cleared his throat.
He was everyone's favorite teacher. A twenty-five year old white man from California, who had taken this job fresh out of College. He hated it at first because the kids were hard to work and put up with. Though, along the way they began to ease up on him and he found himself loving each and everyone of them like they were his own.
"How was everyone's weekend?" Clint leaned on his desk as his eyes scanned throughout the classroom.
The students all responded with their personal little remarks, nothing too long or exaggerated just enough to answer the question.
"That's great, that's great," Mr. Tara smiled, "I'm glad that you all enjoyed yourselves because now it's time to work. I didn't assign any homework for a reason over the long weekend. I wanted you all to rest up and pace yourselves because this next assignment or shall I say project is going to take a lot out of all of you."
Instant groans and sighs of aspiration filled the classroom. Citrus rolled her eyes at the classroom's responses, they hadn't even heard much about the assignment to respond in that way. They just lacked motivation and a solid, strong, work ethic.
"I like those reactions," He smirked, "Let's get into it, shall we? Basically this project is going to be divided into sequences. Each part will aid in the completion of it but also your overall learning experience and collaboration process. Can I get somebody to pass out these templates? Malcom? Here,"
He handed off the stack of papers to Malcom. A seventeen year old, who just did not want to pass the tenth grade,
"By the end of this assignment, my goal is for you all to come to a mutual understanding with your partner about the topic you'll be assigned. The idea here is for you both to have different stand points on these topics. So that each person can fill in for what ever knowledge, their peer may lack. The template Malcom is passing out, contains a list of social based issues that arise different reactions from both men and women."
Citrus felt a tap on her shoulder and looked to the side of her where Malcom stood with her paper. He winked at her and blew her a kiss before sitting it on her desk and moving on.
She flipped it over to see the list the teacher had mentioned:
Colorism
Gender roles/norms
Abortion
The glass ceiling
Homeless children & families
Same sex marriage
Product of environment
The use of derogatory terms
The list went on and on. Citrus was actually amazed that in tenth grade, they would be hitting on such things. She could not imagine what the outcome of this project would be. The kids in her class were all ignorant and closed minded. The few that were aware and woke like herself, had managed to keep it to themselves.
"I'm pretty sure that majority of you don't have in mind what topics you'd like to embark on. So therefore, the first few days will be based on research and coming to your own personal standpoints. I want you all to research on the topic that I plan on assigning your groups. Due to this class being filled with twenty-seven of you knuckleheads, there will be twelve groups of two and one group of three. Oh and to answer all of your questions, no you can not choose your partners. I will be picking your groups."
"Gahdamn. You doing a lot righ' na'," Malcom shook his head as he retook his seat.
"Everything I assign is a lot to you," Clint mocked, "I figure that's why you're retaking this class for the third time."
"Oh shit!" Jaison; the school's it boy, hyped.
"Moving on. Here are you groups," He grabbed up a paper from his desk and proceeded to read off the students he had paired up.
Citrus waited patiently for her name to be called. Her anxiety skyrocketing as she plopped her fingers in her mouth. She hated group work but this project sounded like fun to her. If she could educate another on a topic they lacked knowledge on, that was all that really mattered to her.
"Citrus and Qadir," Mr. Tara caught her attention, "I'm also going to throw Jaison in that mix too. So that'll be our group of three. Your topic is gender roles and norms."
"Oh hell na," Jaison dramatically flung his hands in the air, "I ain't working wit' da' sicko bitch."
"Watch your mouth," She heard from the back of the classroom.
The whole class grew silent as their attention was diverted towards the owner of the voice: Qadir Bukhara.
Citrus felt herself start to shake at the sight of him. He was extremely handsome yet intimidating. Considering his father was a man that many feared. If you lived in Baton Rogue then you knew of the Bukhara's and the business they partook in. They were nothing to play with. Qadir even though he stayed to himself, was nothing to play with.
Jaison swallowed the lump in his throat before nodding his head and facing back forward. Citrus smirked but her smile instantly fell once she viewed the scowl on Qadir's face.
"And my name is Nahiem mister. I tell you dis' and all the otha' teachers dat' on a daily. I don't go by Qadir. Das my Pops, my name is Nahiem," He took the hood off of his head revealing the putrid scar along his right eye.
"Got it," Clint cleared his throat before going back to the list and reading off the remaining students, "Now that we got that all situated. Why don't you all get with your groups for the remaining thirty minutes and start discussing?"
Citrus watched as Jaison sucked his teeth. He silently picked up his bag and dragged a chair over to Citrus's desk. Rolling his eyes, he threw his bag down and took a seat in front of her. He immaturely stuck out his tongue and Citrus did the same.
"Ion even know what we supposed to be discussin'. The role of a bitch is to clean, have babies, an' suck her man up here and there. While as a man," He pointed to himself," We bring all the bread into the crib. Thas it, thas all."
Citrus couldn't even control her facial expression as she instantly frowned at him, "That's extremely ignorant," She shook her head.
"Spell it," Jaison retorted because he didn't have any other form of a comeback.
Citrus rolled her eyes at his childish antics. She went to open her mouth to respond but the sound of a chair screeching beside her, caused her not to. She looked over to see Nahiem taking over the other side of her desk.
"Stop staring at him bruh," Jaison broke her concentration, "See thas' that weird shit I be talkin' bout. Why you so weird?"
Citrus sunk her head down in shame. She was embarrassed at the fact she had been called out but also that it was in front of Nahiem.
"Why you always on her dick bro?" Nahiem grumbled. His voice once again, taking Citrus by surprise, "Leave dat' girl alone cause in all actuality she don't be botherin' nobody. You jus' be lookin' like a bitch, constantly pickin' on somebody who stay ta' themselves," He peered over at Citrus. "As for you? I don't want to see you letting em' fuck wit' you no more. You understand me na'? Start sticking up for ya'self cause you'll get eaten alive out here if you don't and das fa damn sho,"
Citrus bit at her forefinger as she nodded.
"I want ta' hear you," He reached over and pulled her finger out her mouth, "Speak up."
"Okay," Citrus whispered.
Nahiem, for the first time that day had opened his mouth to smile. She was so awkward to the point it was cute. He always paid attention to Citrus and always managed to see how she allowed other's to run all over her. For as long as he lived, Nahiem Bukhara had never been about bullying or a person being picked on. Especially when it went down in front of him, it was a whole different story. Today he had opened up his mouth to defend her because it was obvious she could not do so herself.
However, that was soon to change. As from this moment forward, he was taking Citrus under his wing.
This was just the beginning.