Chapter One.
"But they need us." — Citrus M. Hayes
June 28th, 2005
New Orleans, Louisiana
Late June going into early July, in Louisiana were the months of subtropical heat waves, shockingly humid afternoons and soulful melodies of cicadas. The heat would bounce off of the streets, and cause an illusion of wavering images.
Today was one of those days where sporting a bikini top and some shorts, while carrying a large cup from the local seven-eleven filled with ice wasn't such a bad idea. A day when the perspiration would surface on your forehead, your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, and run in pairs down your face until you became sodden.
It was one of those days when even the well turned-out specimens in front of Miss Simmons yard could not conceal the massive sweat pits on their sophisticated dress shirts. Even the local dope boys who usually sat on-top of their Cadillac's; with their over sized white tees and loose fitted jean shorts while calling out to the loose women—were no where to be found.
Citrus winced from the hot concrete surface of her steps, as her ten year old figure plopped down onto her porch. Her grandmother said that she couldn't go far, leaving her to sit back and watch as all the neighborhood kids indulged in fun summer activities.
She hated that her grandmother was so strict.
"Cici come down here and play!"
Citrus looked up from her hands as the twins approached her.
The twins were Briana and Braelin Vasquez. Two nine year old, Afro-Latinas who lived a couple of houses down from her. Citrus's grandmother would watch them back in two thousand and two when their moms would be at work and their pops? While he was nowhere to be found, most likely running the streets.
The three basically grew up together. They were thick as thieves and even though the twins' parents were back around, that didn't put a dent in their friendship at all.
"I can't," Citrus pouted up her face, "Mama said I got' ta stay on dis' here," She patted the porch for emphasis.
"We'll sit with you then!" Briana sat beside her and sent her a toothless grin, "You wanna play hopscotch?"
"She can't Brix," Braelin crossed her arms, "You didn't hear her say Miss Carla said no?"
"Oh shut the hell up Brae. You so dumb, we could make ta' squares on the porch."
Briana stood to her feet, wiping off the back of her 'Baby Phat Denim shorts'. The two were as always, dressed down in designer. Today they sported the shorts, with baby pink tank tops, and all-white Nike Griffies covering their feet. Their long light brown curly hair was pulled into two big pigtails on each side of their head. Big diamond earrings filled their pierced holes.
"You got any chalk?" Briana raised her eyebrows, "We can't make no hopscotch without no chalk," She sassed.
"I'll go get some from mommy," Braelin calmly stepped off from the porch and jogged to her place.
"You been okay?" Briana retook her seat next to Citrus," She was always so concerned.
For somebody their age, Briana was very mature. She was snappy nonetheless but she always looked out for the ones she cared for.
