Concrete Rose (The Hate U Give, #0)(47)

“You wanna keep it, too?”

“Yeah.”

I thought—I figured—she got so many plans, like college and basketball. A baby don’t fit in that. Messed up as this gon’ sound, thinking she was gon’ have an abortion was the only thing that kept me from balling up in a corner somewhere. It ain’t been a baby. It’s been a pregnancy.

Now it’s a baby—my baby—that I gotta take care of and provide for.

“Mav? You there?”

I clear my throat. “Yeah. What, um . . . what made you decide to keep it?”

“I think—I know I can handle it. My momma and Carlos will be upset at first, but they’ll help out. I’m sure my dad will, too.”

My head throbbing, man. “What ’bout college? You wanted a basketball scholarship.”

“I have the grades to get academic scholarships,” Lisa says. “I’m still gonna go to college. Keisha did. This baby won’t mean my life is over.”

I never met anybody with the kinda determination Lisa got. She act like if she say something, it’s settled. No question. She say her life ain’t over, then her life ain’t over.

Feel like mine is. Being Seven’s daddy is hard enough. Another baby mean more crying, more diapers, more bottles, more money. More, more, more. I don’t got more. I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know what to say, and now the phone so quiet it’s awkward.

“Wooow,” Lisa says. “So much for being on board with whatever I decide.”

She throw my promise back in my face, and it hit like ice water. “Lisa, hold up—”

“I should go. Hope you have a good visit with your dad.”

I’m met with the dial tone.

Me and Ma get ready to hit the road.

I try to get Seven situated in his car seat, but the straps real snug on him. I tug at them, hoping that’ll help.

Ma notice me struggling. “He needs a new car seat. He’s outgrowing that one.”

I look at her. “What? I thought these things fit all babies.”

“No. That’s an infant seat. You have to get something a little bigger.”

And it’s gon’ cost money that I don’t got. Story of my life.

Ma speed down the highway, doing eighty. Granny say she got “a heavy foot.” She might cut this three-hour drive into two. Seven babble in his snug car seat like he tryna make up for the talking me and Ma not doing.

Before we left, I told Ma that Lisa keeping the baby. She got that same blank look she had when we told her Lisa pregnant and went, “Okay.” That’s it.

I watch woods pass by my window, and I almost wanna jump out and run into them. Lisa think she can handle this baby, but can I? Seven need me for everything already, and most days I ain’t sure I’m doing that right.

I screwed up. Ma used to tell me, “Don’t grow up too fast. You’ll miss being a kid.” I thought she was bugging, but I get it now. ’Cause suddenly, I got kids, and I wish more than anything that I could be a kid. Then wouldn’t nobody depend on me.

Tears fill my eyes. My life really over, man. I’m never gon’ sleep no more. I’m never gon’ have enough money. I’ll never be able to hang out with my friends. I’ll never go to college. I’m gon’ be bagging groceries for the rest of my fucking life.

I pull my shirt over my mouth and turn toward my window. Ma shouldn’t have to see me cry when she the one with the broken heart.

Evergreen Prison’s in a small town that’s only got a general store and a diner. Me and Ma went in that diner once. It was nothing but white people in there, and they gave us dirty looks soon as we walked in. We walked right back out.

It’s that kinda town. Don’t help that it feel like we driving up to a plantation. The prison is surrounded by miles of fields. Sometimes they have the inmates out working in them. When I was a kid, I thought the prison was like a castle—a mountain of concrete surrounded by a tall, razor-wire fence. I came up with this whole story in my head, that it had been taken over by bad guys who kidnapped Pops, and he’d find a way out. He can’t find a way outta forty to life.

They not doing car searches today, so Ma park and we go right in. Holidays popular for prison visits, and that mean the lines longer. We go through metal detectors and pat-downs before we ever get to the visiting area. I could only bring in one pacifier, one bottle, one diaper, one toy, and one change of clothes for Seven. I carry him through the metal detector, and they pat him down to make sure we not hiding something in his diaper.

I hate this shit.

The visiting area look like a school cafeteria but with guards standing around it. They got these dull yellow tables and chairs that’s bolted to the floor. The walls light yellow cinder block, and the floors are white and yellow. Guess they tryna make up for the sunlight since no windows in here.

We get a table and wait. Ma brought some money for the vending machine. That’s all she could bring besides her car key. She buy every snack they got and lay them out on the table. Our own version of a family Thanksgiving.

It probably look like I’m bouncing Seven on my knee, but I can’t keep my legs still. I don’t know why I’m nervous, this my pops. He never come down on me.

A loud buzz go off, a door open, and one by one inmates in orange jumpsuits come in and reunite with their folks. Seem like every visitor here get their inmate, and I start to wonder if Pops gon’ come out.