Interesting. Oh, yes it most certainly was interesting. His first two days involved being trapped in a small room with several people for about a half hour at various intervals of time. As horrible as it sounds, it turned out, after those first few days, not that bad.
The majority of his 'students' were kids between the ages of 7 and 15. The younger ones were eager to please, yet shy to show him their raps. The older however, pushed him to his limit rattling off curses and phrases that he didn't know about until he was in college. They rapped about how they were proud members of gangs, of how many whores they had, of how the had already killed, supposedly. They were testing him, trying to see what they could get away with. Or asking for help.
It was a new world for him. He'd almost always lived a life of privilege, and the homes these people came from, the neighborhood the walked through just to get lessons astounded him. He quickly realized that these kids were the most privileged of a disgustingly underprivileged society.
"Yo, sup?" he greeted the thirteen year old girl that walk through the door. "Piano, right?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. He'd gotten pretty good at pinning each kid with what instrument or class they took. The shy girl staring down at her neatly filed finger nails was a dead ringer for either piano or voice. Mireya didn't come in for another hour so he assumed it was piano.
"Nah...the...um...rap thing?" she tried in accented English her eyes never leaving her hands. John's eyebrows arched up further.
"A'igh, c'mon upstairs wit' me," he nodded, hopping over the counter, nearly knocking over the centuries old cash register off it. He shrugged.
"So, what's your name?" he asked as he headed up the stairs, hearing her soft footfalls behind him.
"Claudia Torres," she answered shortly. John cringed. He hoped he didn't have another fangirl... Why else would this seemingly shy, not-willing-to-talk girl have joined his class. He opened the door to the room he split with Mireya and Ian, and saw her relax slightly.
"I'm John Cena, call me John. So, Claudia, you got anything you wanna perform for me? Or do ya wanna just mess around with some crap for a bit?"
"I got something," she murmured, her eyes glancing up for only a second. John nodded encouragingly. She paused for a moment glancing around and pulling out a pen and a pencil. She moving to the table send in the corner, and started tapping a beat, moving her wrists expertly.
"This is bull
The life I live, school I go to, the
family I have
Why I gotta be the one stuck with the
Crackhead
brother
Pregnant Slut of a sister
OCD wit' cleaning mama
The
AWOL papi?
I know I ain't the only
person who gotta put up with
this
But why do any of us?
Why are we the only ones who get
sent back to our country,
who get back talked for taking jobs no
American would settle for?
What makes us dirty
And you
Americans not?
Why are you allowed to live here
And we're
not?
If I say it ain't fair
Would you really care?
Naw, I
doubt it
But I can't reroute it
What does it matter anyway,
I'm here to stay
I got my greencard,
My momma got hers too
I'm an American.
Not a dirty Mexican
Or a filthy
wetback,"
John was impressed to say the least. He underestimated her. It was a good rhyme, it's flow wasn't the greatest, but the content was amazing. When she rapped, her face got hard and the words spilled out of her mouth. It wasn't perfect, and she stumbled over a few words but damn.
"That rhyme was tight as hell!" he exclaimed as soon as she was finished "Your flow as a lil' weak, and the beat wasn't consistent, but girl, you can rap. What we can work on is evening it out. Who's your audience?" he asked looking at her curiously.
"No one," she answered, after finishing beaming up at him for the compliment. John looked surprised.
"Really? Well find some to practice with, or at least in front of. I take it you wouldn't be comfortable performing in front of twenty people?" John nearly laughed at the look of fright she was giving him. "Alright, we need to get rid of that. If you work hard, you can probably perform a the shops showcase," he bribed, cursing at the look of fear spreading across her features.
"'Bye Mr...Cena..."
"John."
"Wha-Oh. Um bye, er... John,"
John grinned slightly. It was the first lesson he actually felt like he achieved something. Like he made a difference. It was a nice feeling. He walked back in the counter, tapping Mireya on the shoulder.
"Hey," he nodded, grinning when she jumped slightly. Mireya made a face at him, turning to face him.
"Hi," she mumbled, trying to look anywhere but his face. John stopped with greetings, launching right into how his lesson was. When he finished, Mireya's face had softened into a little smile.
"You feel it, don't you? You finally get it," she said softly. John stiffened, his expression becoming guarded. All week long the staff had been tormenting him with 'You don't understand' 'You won't get it'. It was stupid, when they wouldn't even tell him what it was that he would supposedly 'get'.
"The pay sucks, the kids are lil'...shitheads.," Mireya said flatly. "Not it's there fault. They don't get it. But when some student actually hits a b flat, or acchevies a head voice, or is so cute, is so..so...talented it makes you look forward to lessons with...You get. You know why, if I was offered twenty bucks a day more at a northside school, I wouldn't take it. Although I need it, how many of these kids do you think would be able to afford to take lessons there? Not one. Claudia's a special girl, John. She so talented. Her mother works at a lavadria, her father -like so many other fathers- doesn't even acknowledge her existents... Her lessons, like so many kids, are done for a fraction of a price...A price that in a whole month wouldn't get her one lesson in a north side school. You see how I can't leave knowing that one kid won't have a teacher?" Mireya sighed looking down at her hands, biting her lip.
She was getting the posture again, the one where she hunched over and glared down at her hands, as if to close everyone out. Seemed it happened after every display of emotion, but there wasn't chance in hell that John was about let that happen now of all times.
"I see... But you don't have to feel guilty, Mireya It shows you're caring, and 'lieve me, when you work wit' a buncha heifas like deez, you gotta be,"
\
Mireya let out a laugh at that. "You some kinda freaky, boy. You always talk like you was raised on the sout' side a Chicago?"
"Girl, quit playin'. Just cause my skin tone is of the vanilla persuasion, don't mean I'mma talk like a lil' white boy. All my friends? They was from the ghetto of Boston, babe. And while I can talk like I'm 'white', I talk how I was and still am being exposed to,"
"You have 'white boy' reasoning," Mireya informed him smirking down at him. "But you straight. I guess,"
"Oh, you know I'm sexy, an you wanna hit that ass," John smirked making a suggestive gesture with his hips, raising his eyebrows when she flushed slightly. "Aw, damn baby, you can't take my language o' somthin'?" His smirk only grew when she desperately scrambled for a suitable comeback. "It's aight, I'm a sexy beast..."
"Nah, but Chris Jericho is,"
"So you watch WWE," John asked flatly, merriment gone. Mira raised an eyebrow.
"Not anymore...My favorite got fired ," she said, hoping over the counter ignoring the disapproving frown of her boss.
"One for these days that child is going to break everything in this store," he frowned shaking his head. John continued to watch Mira as she led a tall gangly 16 year old up the steps Xavier Castellio, apparently her favorite and most talented student. The way Mira raved about him, he'd of thought he was a total stud. He was ridiculously pale with a sharp nose. Mira had said he was called 'The Spaniard' by the kids in the neighborhood, for his regal and light skinned appearance.
He's not all that great. Hell, why Mira got so close to him is beyond me. Why is she looking at him so... Shit. I'm jealous of one of Mireya's students. What the fuck. That's so wrong. I've hit rock bottom. I could have picked someone more...pretty to like. Shit. I'm rambling mentally. Besides, I don't like her that way. She's simply more tolerable that Ian, or Lupe...
No, John decided, there was absolutely no way he could like Mireya Rivera's skinny flat ass.
