Concrete Rose (The Hate U Give, #0)(19)

I nod. I definitely understand why Iesha need a break.

“You two also need to discuss a new name for the baby, since you don’t wanna keep ‘King,’” Ma says. “We can’t call him Man-Man and Li’l Man forever.”

“I know. I think I got an idea for a name.”

“Oh, really. What?”

“It’s gon’ sound stupid—”

“If you put thought into it, it’s not stupid,” she says. “Spill.”

I’ve gone back and forth on this one. After talking to Dre ’bout the Tupac theory, I read up on the meaning of the number seven. Ay, when you awake feeding a baby at night, it’s a good time to grab a book. It said that seven represents perfection and that people tend to hold it above all the rest. It gave me a wild idea. “I think I wanna name him Seven.”

Ma frowns. “You wanna name him after a number?”

“See? You think it’s stupid.”

“I didn’t say it’s stupid, Maverick, calm down. I’d like some clarity behind the decision, that’s all.”

“Oh. Well, seven supposed to be holy and the number of perfection,” I say. “I think I wanna make Maverick his middle name. Everybody say he look like me. Since that’s the case, I want him to be the best version of me. The perfect Maverick Carter.”

“That’s not stupid at all,” Ma says, with a small smile. “You still need to talk it out with Iesha first.”

“I will.”

Li’l Man start crying in my room.

“Somebody’s awake,” Ma says.

I sigh. It’s always something. “He probably want his bottle.” I got it ready. I also packed his diaper bag and laid his outfit out, including the Air Force 1s Dre bought him. Li’l Man gon’ be as fresh as his daddy.

What ain’t fresh is the smell that hit me, soon as I walk in my room. I cover my nose. “What the fuck?”

“Watch your mouth!” Ma yells from down the hall.

If she smelled what I smell, she’d be cussing too. I inch over to the crib, and Li’l Man all squirmy. That smell come straight from his diaper.

“Ma! C’mere!”

“What, Mav—” That smell hit her. She cover her nose. “Seems like you got a problem.”

“You won’t help?”

“You don’t need me to help you with a diaper.”

This not a regular diaper. “Ma—”

She go toward her room. “You can handle it, Maverick.”

This “tough love” shit she do is whack.

I pick my son up, and I swear I almost drop him. What’s in the diaper don’t stay in the diaper. It end up on my Polo, my jeans, and my Reeboks.

“Shit, man!” I yell. “Shit!”

Li’l Man cry even more. I can’t tell him it’s a’ight when I wanna cry myself. “Ma!”

“Maverick, handle it! I gotta go to work!”

“I gotta go to school!”

“Then you better hurry up!”

Goddamn, man. I clean my son and bathe him. After what I see I never wanna change another diaper in my life. I change outta my outfit and throw on some wrinkled clothes. I put on my new Jordans so at least my shoes fly. Ma leave for work. I put Li’l Man in his car seat, throw on my backpack, grab the diaper bag, lock up the house, and rush next door.

Mrs. Wyatt waiting on the porch. She laugh at the sight of me. “Tough morning?”

I give her the diaper bag and the car seat. “Oh yeah. I think he teething. He had a bad accident a li’l while ago. I packed a bunch of diapers, baby wipes, and clothes. I didn’t have a chance to give him his bottle—”

She set the car seat down and pick Li’l Man up. “I’ve got it, baby. You hurry on to school now.”

I’m stuck. Ever since I got my son, we haven’t been apart. I already feel bad as shit for walking out on him last night. What if he think I’m leaving him like his momma did?

“He’ll be fine, Maverick,” she says.

“A’ight,” I tell her and myself. That boy got me tripping. I kiss his forehead. “Daddy love you, man. I’ll see you later.”

Mrs. Wyatt lift his hand to wave at me. By the time I get to the end of the block, they gone inside.

As hard as it was to leave him, this relieved feeling come over me. For the next few hours I ain’t gotta change a diaper or fix a bottle. I ain’t gotta try to figure out why a tiny baby crying for what seem like the hundredth time.

I’m free.

It take around fifteen minutes for me to get to school. I have to pass by Aunt ’Nita and Uncle Ray’s house on the way there. Dre wash his ride in the driveway as his pit bull, Blu, lie in the grass and watch. Dre had that dog for a couple of years now. Some pit owners like to put them in fights around the neighborhood for money. Not Dre. He treat Blu like he treat Andreanna.

I got enough time to stop by for a quick minute. Blu notice me coming up the walkway before Dre do. He bark and try to break free from his chain. Once I’m close enough, he jump all over me.

“Whaddup, cuz?” I say to Dre.

He wipe his windows with a towel. “Whaddup? Ready for the first day of school?”

“I guess.” Blu climb up my legs and sniff at my pockets. “Chill, boy. I don’t got snacks today.”