Chapter Thirteen:

Community Service

It was the second week in summer break and Jazmin sighed as she got out of bed. She brushed her teeth, braided her hair and threw on a black bra top, a cut off t-shirt and blue short-shorts with matching kicks along with a pad for today's flow. She walked out her room, grabbing a banana from the fridge and called out to Lakeda who'd been sleeping in her room after a long shift.

"Heading out, ma!" She yelled as she left, locking the door. She took the stairs this time, dashing down them and jumping to the first floor from the fifth step. She made her way out the door and into the pathway that lead into the street where she'd seen she'd missed the bus. She creased her eyebrows and sucked her teeth.

"Fuck all this shit," she grumbled, pulling out her smartphone and checking the directions. When she did, she began sprinting over there. Running was fun, but it was hard on her shoes, which often got torn up in the process. However, she couldn't worry about that this morning. She traveled along the local route, dashing past the residential houses and then into the commercial areas where there were chicken spots, taco trucks, liquor stores and delis that accepted EBT. Eventually, in about six to eight minutes, she reached the Los Lados Community Correction's Center that was wedged between a dollar store and a fashion store that sold cheap, skimpy clothing. It was her second day of community service now and Lakeda was less than thrilled about it, but didn't whoop her ass over it for Portia's life was on the line and they exposed Mr. Roak for being the criminal that he was. She entered through the sliding doors, stepping through the metal detector and giving a soft "morning," to the security guard. She then made her way to the locker rooms where Nines was sitting there, in her orange jumpsuit which she zipped down to expose cleavage. She also rolled up the sleeves to show off her toned arms. Even in orange she looked fashionable—she wore jewelry and makeup—light blush, lipstick and eyeshadow and her loose curly hair in a cute bun. She was filing her nails and chewing gum, waiting for the probation officer to come give them their tasks for the day. Jazmin had noted Talon, Zanny and Big Smoke all dodged community service—somehow—but the rest of them had not been so lucky. Uniqua came out the bathroom, her hair in a ponytail and she wore a black t-shirt, with the top part of the jumpsuit zipped all the way down and hanging off her waist. She tied it up and walked over to Nines, giving her a kiss and sitting next to her.

"Wassup Jaz," Uniqua said, sighing.

"Yo," Nines gave Jaz a quick nod of acknowledgement and Jazmin waved back, heading to her locker. Eventually, she saw Naz come through the door, his jumpsuit also zipped down and the upper part tied around his waist as he sported a black wife-beater and black loafers, with a sparkling chain around his neck.

"Can y'all believe this motherfuckin' shit. We save Portia right and we stop a kidnappin' rapist and we still gotta do community service? The whole justice department can put my whole ballsack in they mouth, bunch of funky ass fed niggas."

Jazmin shrugged, resigned to the whole ordeal, "We broke into a house."

"No nigga, YOU broke into a house. I just tagged along cuz it was better than being in school the whole fuckin' day on the last day."

"Stop bitching bruh," Uniqua interrupted, "Yesterday was orientation…for whatever fuckin' reason, all we do gotta today is pick up some trash by the freeway. It ain't that deep, my guy."

"Nigga…ain't nobody ask you if it was deep or not," Naz grumbled, plopping down angrily on one of the benches. As he seethed, Andre came through the doors, wearing the jumpsuit the right way with the exception of having one pant leg rolled up and the other at its normal length. He sighed, putting his bag into his locker and slamming it shut.

"Welp," he grumbled, "Let's do this shit."

"Glad you eun…thu..astic about this fuck shit bruh," Naz said, shaking his head.

"Did you just say en thu astic, nigga? Did you mean enthusiastic? Bruh…stay in school," Andre clapped back, "Ol' dumbass."

"Nigga fuck you and your creepy ass hand tails!"

As he said this, Vinalia was the last one to enter, also having her jumpsuit zipped down to expose her chest, but not as much as Nines had did. She decorated her jumpsuit with stickers and glitter and wore berry lipstick and thick, winged eyeliner. She was carrying a plastic bag with a poker.

"I ain't supposed to be around trash this long," she whined.

"Ain't you a poison type?" Naz asked.

Vinalia gave him a look and he shrugged, giving her a hangdog smile. As she sat down to lace up her sneakers, two more people walked in—clearly inmates for community service detail. One had been in juvie, while the other was from an actual prison. Jazmin cocked her head, looking at them. The one from prison was a Lopunny woman—the one she'd briefly seen at the Los Lados Correctional Facility when they visited Mr. Ace. She also wore the top part of her jumpsuit tied around her waist and a crop top. Her dark eyeliner went well with her intense eyes. She was also tatted up, with tear drop tattoos that were visible now that she wasn't crying and having her makeup run. The other one, younger and from juvie, was a tall sixteen year old who had bronze-tanned skin, sharp red eyes and curly purple hair that was cut into a fade with zigzagging designs by the side. He exhibited the traits of a Crobat—having the bat's ears and perfect white teeth, with bit of fang that could be seen when he opened his mouth. They sat separately, not talking to each other or anyone else. Jazmin noted they both had ankle monitors—while everyone else had none—due to them being actual inmates at correctional facilities. The freshman had no interest in sharing their fate…which would be hers and the others if they failed to show up for community service and put in the proper amount of hours. One thousand, four hundred and sixty hours, she reminded herself. That's…two months…my whole fuckin' summer. It was either that or spending the summer in juvie. When the clock struck 9, the probation officer walked through the double doors.

"Alright," he said, standing in front of all of them, "Y'all ready? We picking up trash by I-45."

Jazmin looked at the probation officer, who had "Doom," as his name on his tag. Horace Doom, she remembered, seeing him on the first day of orientation. He had sand colored skin, black straight hair parted to the side, blood red eyes and a tall stature that showed off his sinewy muscle. He had a whiplike tail with a devil's spade at the end that went well with the silver, ram-like horns that emerged from the sides of his head.

"Well?" He said, his tail lashing from side to side, "Stop lollygagging about, up, up, up, come on, the bus is outside."

Everyone groaned and followed Horace Doom out the double doors, into the parking lot where the bus had been waiting, ignition on.

I-45 was a very public road and there had been nothing more humiliating that being grouped with a bunch of high school kids, picking shit off the side of the road while cars raced by and people rubbernecked. Jazmin used her speed to get as much work done as possible in a short amount of time, but she quickly realized that running fast meant she missed litter, which she would have to double back and collect. So, she opted with taking her time, because rushing through it would be tack on extra time in the long run with the mistakes she'd been making. Horace was supervising them but not by any stringent means. He was sitting on a portable, fold out chair and flipping through a magazine, smoking a cigarette as he did. His expression was made inscrutable behind his narc ass mirrored glasses. Jazmin glanced up at him every so often and sighed, stabbing the loose rubbish and putting them in the black bag. Naz groaned as he collected trash further north of the freeway. Nines and Uniqua collected trash together, talking as they did. Jazmin, not looking where she was going, bumped into the sixteen year old who turned around, an eyebrow cocked.

"Oh sorry my man," Jazmin said quickly, going back to collecting the trash near the southern end.

"Ay, your name is Jazmin right?" He asked.

She nodded, "Yeah."

He picked up trash beside her, "Yeah you the girl who broke into some nigga's house and beat his ass. Props."

"That ain't exactly what happened—"

"Nah, I get you. If some nigga tried doing some fuck shit to my friend, I'd whoop his ass too."

Jazmin chuckled a bit, "Yeah, I guess that's what happened."

"You badass tho and you cute—a dangerously good combo," he commended. Jazmin smiled a bit, blushing.

"Thanks," she said.

"No problem. By the way, the name's Kyrin." Jazmin held out her hand and he shook it. There was a stint of silence before she started up a new conversation.

"So…why you got community service?" She inquired. Kyrin sucked his teeth as he stabbed a condom pack and tossed it in the trash bag.

"Armed robbery," he said, "I did most of my time, now I'm doing the remainder of it out here. Such bullshit man."

Jazmin made a cringing face, "Nigga…you robbed somebody at gunpoint?"

"Actually it was a fuckin' department store," he said, "And I ain't even have a gun. It was the other niggas with me, but cuz they not minors, they got five years. I got one in a half."

"Well god fuckin' damn," Jazmin murmured, but Kyrin shrugged.

"I'm a mad nigga, I stay on my Team Rocket shit sis," he said, yawning a bit as a car raced past the freeway, with the driver throwing trash out the window. It landed squarely five feet from where they were staying. Jazmin sucked her teeth loudly and went over to collect it.

"If I ever find that motherfuckin' snitch," Kyrin said, "Ima steal on that nigga, baptize him, no cap."

"Someone snitched?"

"Yeah someone fuckin' snitched, running his big fuckin mouth. It either that or…it was the security cameras and we ain't wearin' masks out here…but I'm pretty fuckin' sure it's some snitch nigga."

Jazmin raised an eyebrow and continued picking up garbage, "Well, guess you gon have to make the best of it here."

"Yeah, but its still bullshit," Kyrin said, stretching for a moment, "But there some good moments."

"Oh, like what?"

"Meeting real niggas like you," he said, smiling at her. Jazmin blinked a bit and then laughed a little, hiding her smile by turning her head. As she went to pick up to trash half a mile down I-45, she saw Naz taking a break, smoking a joint.

"Nigga…the fuck are you doing?" Jazmin asked.

"Takin' a break," he said, taking a puff of blue haze, "Ain't like Mr. Doom watchin', the nigga's asleep."

Jazmin looked over at the probation officer, who'd dozed off in his chair, the magazine over his face as he slept.

"Who that you talkin' to?" Naz asked, leaning against the metal railing that separated the grasslands from the freeway.

"Kyrin," Jazmin said, "Uh—the nigga from juvie."

Naz sucked his teeth, shaking his head, "On Arceus, y'all hoes be stupid as fuck—why in the hell is you talkin' to some nigga from juvie."

"Naz," Jazmin folded her arms, setting her trash bag down, "You ain't finna tell me who to talk to."

"Iight, iight, be stupid," Naz said, taking another hit of the blunt, "You dumb tho."

"I'm dumb for just talking? Bruh yo whole fit is dumb," Jazmin clapped back, "And I'm dumb for ever dealing with yo trifling ass."

"I made one mistake and now I'm trifling—?"

"Nigga yes! The hell?" Jazmin kissed her teeth, "I'm tired bruh. Go…flirt with Vinalia or Nines or something."

"But I want you—ugh," he brushed her off, deciding to use the time to get high. Jazmin went her way further down I-45, sighing as she covered her face. People were slowing down to stare and laugh at "delinquents" doing community service work. It was absolutely demoralizing and she forced herself to swallow her tears and her already fragile pride. As she went to collect more garbage, she saw Lemmy. She wasn't working either, taking a break, sitting on the ground and drinking from a bottle of henny she snuck in the other day. Jazmin was unnerved by her, which was unusual of those of the Lopunny line. However, she approached her, not saying much, but rather collected the garbage she missed. Lemmy took several mouthfuls of henny, giving a satisfied sigh and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Jazmin could clearly see that she was drunk and unlike fire types, everyone else had the normal amount of tolerance.

"What the hell are you lookin' at?" Lemmy asked.

Jazmin hopped back, startled at her raspy, annoyed voice, "Just working."

"Well work over there and get yo goofy lookin' ass outta my face," she barked. Jazmin recoiled and nodded, avoiding her. Lemmy laid on the grass instead of continuing work, trying to sleep off her early morning intoxication. Jazmin sighed, looking at her phone. It was only eleven. Two hours passed and they had to work until 5. This is such trash, she grumbled. Her entire summer was wasted now for the probation was until she started the new school year. When her trash bag was sufficiently filled, she walked back to the starting spot to get an extra one. As she did, she noticed that everyone else wasn't really doing work. Vinalia was talking with Naz and sharing a blunt, Nines was talking with Uniqua, Lemmy was asleep, Andre was scrolling on his phone and Kyrin was smoking. Maybe I'm taking this too seriously, Jazmin considered. She tied up her bag and went over to Naz and Vinalia.

"Yo," Vinalia greeted, passing the blunt. Jazmin took a hit, coughing a bit and then passed it back to her. She sat on the patch of grass besides them, lifting her legs up to her chest.

"This shit is buns," Jazmin complained, "It's boring and long."

"Yeah, well, might as well make the best of it," Vinalia told her, passing the blunt to Naz. He took a hit.

"All this for being a hero," Naz kissed his teeth, "Shame."

"Oh shut the fuck up," Vinalia teased, "Did you see yo self? You got knocked the fuck out. It looked like that nigga Roak was gon' split your head open."

"Yea—all that punishment to do fuckin' community service," Naz said, kicking over his bag. He threw his hands up, "And why the fuck Talon and Big Smoke not here?"

"And Zanny," Vinalia added.

"Cuz they clever," Jazmin said, "And maybe…got an in somewhere. But that's good. Talon wouldn't do that well here."

Naz raised an eyebrow at that statement, "Cuz he a lame nigga? Yeah. He'd look even more swaggerless in orange."

"That ain't what I meant," Jazmin argued as Vinalia took a hit, passing it to her.

"Y'all just friends, yeah?" Naz teased, "He clearly likes you. Don't know why you actin' like motherfuckin' Daredevil about it."

"What—?"

"Blind nigga," Naz explained, "Damn bih, read some fuckin' comics or some shit, Arceus…"

"And I'm the lame nigga," Jazmin muttered, shaking her head.

"Nah you kinda lame for real," Vinalia agreed, "You and Talon. But y'all nice. So…I guess it cancels it out."

"That reminds me—what y'all get on y'alls report cards?"

Vinalia smirked, taking a hit as the blunt reached her, "4 Bs and a C. You?"

"1 B, 1 A, a C and a C minus," Jazmin said. She then looked at Naz, who gave her an annoyed look.

"Nigga I ain't tellin you my grades, the fuck you need to know that for?"

"That's cuz yo grades doo doo," Vinalia laughed, "He got 4 Ds and a C minus."

"Bih…shut the fuck up," he hissed with a whisper, "It ain't like I'm being held back. Not like that shit matters. That school is bullshit."

"Everything is bullshit," Vinalia reminded him, "Can't wait to get the fuck up outta here. I'm applying to a college far the fuck away from here when I get the chance."

"I wonder what college gon' take you—you got a record. We all do now," Naz said, sighing.

"Yea a record to stop a fuckin' man from kidnapping Portia and bustin' him for raping and killin' Keisha," Jazmin said bitterly.

"It be like that," Naz mumbled, leaning over the metal railing, looking out into the freeway as the cars raced on by. As he did, Kyrin approached them, his cigarette hanging out his mouth. Naz turned around, giving him a tentative look.

"Yo," he said to Jazmin, "Wanna get lunch?"

Jazmin exchanged glances with Naz and Vinalia. While Vinalia looked neutral, Naz looked absolutely exasperated at Kyrin's presence. Jazmin liked the fact he was clearly envious and resolved to go along with it.

"Yeah," Jazmin said, hopping up to her feet and followed Kyrin away from the trash site.

Kyrin took a long drag of his cigarette, heading somewhere off the freeway into the more local area. There was a gas station, a burger joint, a pizza place, a car dealership and a raggedy looking pharmacy in the distance. Kyrin reached into his pockets, counting the cash he had. He had approximately sixty-seven dollars and thirteen cents. Jazmin decided to inquire about something as they got to the parking lot of a filthy, shanty of a plaza.

"Why y'all flying types don't like flying?" She asked, then quickly recanted, "Oh wait—that's prolly offensive, I'm sorry—"

"Nah, it ain't," Kyrin said, taking a drag, "Some shit ain't 'friendly,' if you get what I'm sayin? Some shit looks too…weird for everyday life. Like claws, or really big fangs, or extra eyes or limbs—so niggas hide 'em, cuz people be starin' and acting brand new 'bout it. It's the same thing with flyin'. Like everyone knows we can fly, but not only is it mad energy to fly, niggas just act…uncomfortable around that shit."

Jazmin thought about it for a moment. Talon, Sa'Nessa and Zanny wore gloves to hide their claws, Big Smoke wore long shirts to hide his skull and crossbones mark on his stomach…everyone did something to appear "more" humanlike, more "normal." She considered this as she realized she did take buses and public transport. It was a subconscious thing—to alter oneself to simply fit in. She liked running, but she did get weird looks when she moved at her top speed. She trailed behind Kyrin who shooed away scavenging gulls in the parking lot. He looked around, wondering what was good to eat.

"What you like eatin?" He asked, trying to decide between Glendy's and Sam's Pizza.

"Anything, really," Jazmin said. She was getting weird looks by people walking in and out the plaza because they were both in orange jumpsuits. She sighed, shaking her head, feeling self-conscious, but Kyrin seemed immune to all those trivialities. He walked into Glendy's, cool as glacier as he opened the door, holding it for Jazmin. There were people in Glendy's, with children too, gawking at them, but Kyrin ignored it, looking up at the menu plastered on the overhead that was in front of the kitchen. Jazmin, on the other hand, wanted to cover her face or shrink into non-existence. Kyrin put out his cigarette, flicking it carelessly on the floor, trying to see what he wanted.

"The chicken nuggets be kinda lit, no cap," Kyrin said, looking back at Jazmin, "What you think?"

"Uh…" she wrung her fingers, "I'ma take the chicken sandwich."

Kyrin chuckled, "Damn they sandwiches be hitting for real tho, maybe I'll get that." Jazmin observed the uneasy, dirty looks they were getting and tugged on Kyrin's arm.

"M-maybe we should dip outta here. Nigga's looking at us sideways."

Kyrin scoffed, "Ion give a single fuck about what a bunch of lame niggas thinking. You not even a criminal—you a hero anyways. You out here also doin' community service, but niggas wanna give us stank ass looks…so let 'em. Ion give two shits about that."

"Yeah but niggas be trippin' out here."

"Let 'em trip, fam," Kyrin insisted, walking up to the counter after the person in front said their order.

"Uh, lemme get two number 5s, a Sprite—what you want—?"

"Sprite," Jazmin said.

"Yeah, a Sprite and some curly fries, bruh. And make them shits crispy please. I ain't putting no soggy bullshit in my mouth."

The mon behind the counter took the order and printed out the receipt. When he paid, he handed the receipt to him and took the order, placing it on a rotating rack. Jazmin and Kyrin stepped aside, waiting for their food.

"I guess you used to niggas staring," Jazmin said, sighing deeply.

Kyrin leaned against the wall, shrugging, "It ain't that deep, fam."

Jazmin smiled at him, "Sheiiiiiit...then I'm tryna be like you—just tryna not to give a fuck anymore."

Kyrin laughed, shaking his head, sticking his hands in his pocket, waiting for the order. Within a few minutes, the cashier set a large, brown bag that read NUMBER 5 on the countertop. Kyrin went up and took, checking the bag and nodded, handing it to Jazmin as he picked up the drinks and paper-cup holders. They walked out of Glendy's, cutting through the parking lot. Jazmin took her drink and Kyrin did as well, discarding the cup holder and holding the bag in his hand. When they reached into the grasslands that led up back into the interstate, Kyrin set the bag down and paused. Jazmin sipped her drink from a straw, while Kyrin reached into his pocket, grabbing a small bottle of promethazine syrup and pouring it into the Sprite, dropping in some grape flavored jolly ranchers and topped it off with a shot of vodka that he poured from a black flask. He covered back up and shook up a bit, letting it sit for a few seconds.

"Nigga…is you drinking lean?" Jazmin asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Yeah, and?" Kyrin quipped, uncovering it and taking a sip. Jazmin looked at it. She never tried anything other than loud and reggie. Kyrin smiled at her.

"You wanna try?"

"I'm good," she said, sticking with her soda, heading back to the trash site. She saw that Lemmy was still asleep, this time on her side instead of her back. Naz was high off his ass watching something on his phone, lying in the grass with Vinalia, who'd been asleep as well. Nines and Uniqua had snuck off somewhere and Andre was hitting a blunt while digging through the trash, looking for anything valuable or useful someone could have left behind. Kyrin took a seat with the lean still in his hand, taking another sip before covering it up. He got out his chicken sandwich and began chowing down on it. Jazmin finished her Sprite and threw the empty soda cup into an open trash bag and sat with Kyrin, also eating her sandwich, sharing the curly fries with him.

"Where you be at?" Kyrin asked between mouthfuls.

"Section-77," Jazmin said, "The projects—yeah."

Kyrin nodded, washed down the sandwich with more of the purple drink, "Used to live in Section-99. Shit was fucking grimey over there. One of my homeboys got shot right in front of the playground when I was like, eight."

"Hmm," Jazmin nodded, looking at him. She wasn't surprised. Shootings were often in Section-77 as well.

"Yo, so when I finish my stint here…holla at ya boy," Kyrin said, taking another sip.

Jazmin raised an eyebrow and took a large bite of her chicken sandwich, "Really nigga?"

"I mean, why not?" He said, shrugging. Jazmin smiled at him, amused. She finished her sandwich and threw the wrapper into the trash bag. Kyrin started leaning, the drink hitting him after the fifth sip. Eventually, he was tripping and Jazmin left him alone to finish the drink on his own. She looked over at the probation worker, who was still fast asleep. She started picking up the trash again, checking her smartphone. It was going to be a long ass day. But maybe her summer wouldn't be so awful. She smiled to herself, cautiously hopeful.