Concrete Rose (The Hate U Give, #0)(4)

“Uh-oh!” P-Nut call out. “Li’l Don in troooouble. Got his momma rolling through on a disciplitarianship.”

A discipli-what?

Forget P-Nut. I open Ma’s passenger’s door. “Hey, Ma.”

“Hey, ba—” She cover her nose. “Damn, boy! You ripe! What you doing so musty?”

I sniff myself. I ain’t that bad. “I played ball.”

“Did you wrestle with pigs too? Good Lord! You gon’ clear the clinic out.”

“If we run by the house real quick, I can shower—”

“We don’t have time for that, Maverick. We told Iesha and her momma that we’d meet them at two. It’s already one forty-five.”

“Oh.” I ain’t realize my life might be changing so soon. “My bad.”

Ma must catch the dip in my voice. “We need to know the truth. You get that, right?”

“Ma, what I’m gon’ do if—”

“Hey,” she says, and I look at her. “No matter what, I’ve got you.”

She hold her fist out to me.

I smirk. “You too old to be dapping folks up.”

“Old? Boy, please! I’ll have you know I got carded when me and Moe went out last Saturday. Bam! Who too old now?”

I laugh as she crank up the car. “You. You too old.”

“Ay, hold up!” Shawn call out. He dash across the parking lot and run around to Ma’s side. “I gotta say whaddup to the queen. How you doing, Mrs. Carter?”

“Hey, Shawn,” Ma says. “You making it?”

“Yes, ma’am. Looking out for your boy.”

“Good,” Ma says, and this time her voice dip.

No mother want their son in a gang, but no mother want their son dead either. Pops made so many enemies in the streets that I need somebody to have my back. He told Ma I had to join. Kinging run in my blood anyway. Ma’s brothers claimed it, then Pops and his cousins. It’s like a fraternity for us.

Ma think I’m an “associate” though, aka somebody who only claim it and don’t sling or put in work. She say this whole King Lord thing is temporary. She drill it into my head all the time—get my high school diploma and go away to college so I can get the hell away from all of this.

“We’ve got an appointment to get to,” she tells Shawn. “Be safe out here, baby.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Shawn look at me and nod. “Good luck, li’l homie.”

I nod back.

Ma pull outta the parking lot, and I watch the homies in the rearview mirror. They ball on the courts without a care in the world. I wish that could be me again.

Instead, I’m headed to the clinic to find out if King’s son is actually mine.





Two


The free clinic real busy for a Friday afternoon. Everybody in the Garden would rather come here than go to County ’cause folks who go to County rarely go home. Some man on crutches talk loud as hell on the pay phone like he want all of us to hear that he need a ride. Somehow, he ain’t woke up the lady in the wheelchair beside us. A girl around my age chase after this snot-nosed kid and call after him in Spanish.

Wild to think that could be me in a couple years.

This whole situation kinda complicated. King got this homegirl Iesha. She not his girlfriend, nah. They mess around a lot, if you know what I mean. Iesha known to mess around with a lot of dudes though. No disrespect, but it’s fact.

Around a year ago, Lisa broke up with me after Carlos claimed he saw me talking to another girl. A bald-faced lie but Lisa believed that fool for whatever reason. I went to King’s crib, stressed out ’bout it. He asked Iesha to get my mind off things. I wasn’t sure at first, ’cause it seemed wrong, like I was cheating almost. Once me and Iesha got into it, I forgot right and wrong.

At some point, the condom broke.

Now I’m at the free clinic waiting for DNA test results on Iesha’s three-month-old baby.

Ma’s leg won’t stay still, like she wanna run out this waiting room. She glance at her watch. “They should’ve been here by now. Maverick, have you talked to Iesha lately?”

“Not since the other week.”

“Lord. We gon’ have our hands full with this girl.”

Ma always talk to God. Usually it’s “Lord, keep me from hurting this boy.” Guess it’s nice she talking to him ’bout somebody else for once.

She claim I got her aging early from stress. She keep her hair in finger waves and got a couple of grays she shouldn’t have at thirty-eight. That ain’t my fault. It’s from them long hours she work. Ma check people into a hotel during the day and clean offices at night. I always tell her “I’m gon’ take care of you.”

She smile and says, “Take care of yourself, Maverick.”

For weeks it’s been “Take care of your son.” She convinced I’m his daddy.

I’m not. “Don’t know why we doing this,” I mumble. “He ain’t mine.”

“Why? Because you were only with that girl one time?” Ma asks. “That’s all it takes, Maverick.”

“She swear he King’s baby. They even named him after King.”

“Yeah, and who does he look like?” Ma says.