Concrete Rose (The Hate U Give, #0)(48)

At the very end, there he is.

This man got my whole face. I mean, I got his. Ma say we identical. She’ll bring it up at the most random times. I could be staring at my homework to the point my eyebrows almost touch, and Ma will go, “You look so much like your father.”

She say we walk alike, too. Pops walk like the world was made for him. He bald now—back in the day, he had a Jheri curl like Eazy-E. He used to be skinny, but ain’t much to do in prison besides lift weights. They got him jacked up.

He catch sight of us, and his smile take over his face.

Ma hurry into his arms. This hug the only time they can touch during the visit. Prison rules. They kiss, and I glance away like a li’l kid.

Pops look at me. These days we eye to eye, but I feel like a ant standing in front of a mountain—he always seem bigger than life to me. Don’t know if that’s ’cause folks in the Garden act like he a god or if it’s just ’cause he my pops.

Ma take Seven, and Pops wrap his arms around me. It’s one of them big, tight hugs that seem to get all of me.

“I missed you, boy,” he says, all rough. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Pops.”

He hold me in front of him. “Damn, man. You . . .” He clear his throat. “You keep growing, huh? What you been eating?”

“Everything,” Ma says.

Pops chuckle. “I can tell.” He clasp the back of my head. “My main man.”

That feel like a hug, too.

Pops turn to Ma, and Seven all he see. His eyes light up. “There go that baby.”

He hold his hands out for Seven. Li’l Man grip Ma’s shirt and whimper.

“It’s okay, Man-Man,” Ma coos. “That’s your grandpa.”

I brush his hair to tell him the same. Long as we good, he good—he let Pops take him without much of a fuss. As chubby as he is, he super tiny in Pops’s gigantic hands.

“Seven Maverick Carter,” Pops says it like he testing it out. “Can you say ‘Grandpa’? Say ‘Grandpa.’”

Ma chuckles. “Adonis, that baby’s too young to talk.”

“I don’t know. Smart as you say he is, he’ll be talking soon. I’m ready to hear whatever he gotta say.” Pops kiss his cheek.

Me and Ma sit on one side of the table, and Pops sit on the other with Seven in his lap. He allowed to hold Li’l Man the entire visit, but he can’t touch us again until the end. The guards watch to make sure he don’t.

Seven babble, and Pops go, “Yeah. Yeah, I know,” like they having a conversation.

“How was the drive?” he asks us.

“Fine,” Ma says. “Traffic was a little heavy because of the holiday, but that’s expected. You’re doing okay?”

Pops pretend to eat Seven’s hand. Seven squeal and laugh. Pops smile wide. “I’m surviving. Finally got that job in the kitchen that I wanted. Y’all looking at the newest prep cook at Evergreen Prison.”

“Yo, word?” I say.

“Adonis, that’s wonderful!” Ma adds.

“Oh yeah. I ain’t a field nigga no more. Massa moved me into the big house.”

He and Ma crack up. I get why, but this not cool.

“Hopefully I’ll be able to use some of my recipes instead of that mess they got us cooking,” Pops says. “I convinced Chef to order some seasonings. Food need more than salt and pepper.”

“Hopefully he’ll listen. I’m making your yams tomorrow,” Ma says. “They won’t taste the same though.”

“Hear that, Mav Man? You cook right, a woman got no choice but to miss you.” He wink.

I can’t crack a smile. He should be home, cooking for us.

Seven babble real loud, and Pops go, “I know, buddy. I’m right there with you. How everything at home, y’all?”

Ma turn all the way toward me, and the mood change. Mommas, boy. They can murder you with a look.

“Your son has something to tell you, Adonis,” she says.

His son. Ma act like I lose her DNA when I screw up.

Pops look up from Seven. “What he got to tell me?”

My legs shaking real bad now. Man, I’m tripping. Pops gon’ have my back.

I look at the table anyway. “Umm . . . my umm . . .”

“My eyes not down there, and my name not ‘Um,’” Pops says. “Fix that shit. And straighten up.”

Pops never let me talk to anybody without looking them in the eye, and he never let me stumble on my words. I better say what I mean, no hesitation.

I sit up like he taught me, shoulders straight, chest up, my eyes locked with his. “Lisa, she pregnant.”

“What the hell?” Pops sit back in a daze. He look at Ma. “Ain’t you taught him ’bout condoms?”

“Hold on one damn minute. Don’t you dare blame me, Adonis.”

“I’m just tryna figure out why this boy making babies like this?”

“I’m sure if his father was home to teach him better, he’d do better.”

“Here you go,” Pops groan. “I don’t wanna hear this today, Faye.”

“Then don’t blame me,” Ma says. “I’m doing the best I can.”