Concrete Rose (The Hate U Give, #0)(49)

“Are you? Maybe if you wasn’t with Moe all the damn time—”

“Excuse you?” Ma says. “Keep her out of this.”

“I didn’t bring her in it. I call home to talk to my wife, and you running around with her. No wonder our son out there impregnating these girls.”

“I’m sorry for finding time to live my life!”

Pops suck his teeth. “Living your life, that’s what you call it?”

“You’re damn right. Living my life however I wanna live it. The world hasn’t stopped because you’re in here.”

I wanna disappear, man. I hate when they argue. I don’t get why Pops got such a problem with Moe. Ma oughta be able to hang out with her friend without worrying ’bout me.

“Pops, this ain’t on Ma. This my fault, a’ight?”

“You got some nerve, coming at me,” Ma says, like I didn’t say a word. “When was the last time you actually parented our son, Adonis?”

“What you want me to do, Faye? Huh?” Pops ask. “What the hell you expect me to do?”

“I don’t know, but you better figure it out. Fast.”

Ma hop up. She take Seven from Pops and go to the other side of the room.

Pops rub his face. “Maverick, what the hell, man?”

“Pops, it was an accident. I didn’t mean—”

“It don’t matter what you ‘meant.’ This some irresponsible shit, man.”

“I know. I’m sorry, okay?”

“That ain’t enough!” he barks. “This not a bad report card or a fight at school. You making babies, Mav. Where the hell was your head at, huh?”

Why he acting like this? “I wasn’t thinking, that’s all.”

“Wasn’t thinking,” he says with a mean laugh. “Wow, you wasn’t thinking. What do your name mean, Maverick?”

“Pops, c’mon.”

“Answer me. What do your name mean?”

I feel like I’m in first grade again. My teacher, Mrs. Stanley, was this middle-aged white lady who wore red lipstick. First day of class, she called roll and when she got to me she went, “Maverick? Huh. That’s an odd name.”

The other kids snickered. It felt like Mrs. Stanley punched me. I went home and told Pops what happened.

“You know what your name mean,” he said. “Bet her name don’t mean shit. Tomorrow ask her what it is and what it mean.”

I did. She said her name was Ann and she didn’t think it had meaning. It was “just a normal name.”

I told her exactly what Pops told me to say next. “Maverick means ‘independent thinker.’ Your momma and daddy wasn’t mavericks, naming you that.”

She sent me home with a note. Pops balled it up and threw it away. After that, he’d make me tell him what my name meant every day, so I’d know who I’m supposed to be.

I look at Pops now and tell him what my name mean like I used to do.

“So why the hell you wasn’t thinking?” he ask.

“That was the day of Dre’s funeral.”

Pops go quiet, the way people do when they remember I lost my brother. He let out a slow sigh. “Grief a hell of a burden, Mav Man. A hell of a burden. However, it ain’t an excuse.”

I look up. “What?”

“Dre wasn’t on your mind when you was with that girl,” he says. “We both know what was. You let that thing in your pants make decisions for you. Don’t use Dre as a cover-up.”

“I’m not using him as a cover-up!”

Pops slap the table. “Take that bass out your goddamn voice!”

“Pops, chill.”

“Chill? You expect me to be cool with the fact my son doing stupid shit?”

Hold up. He in the orange jumpsuit. “That’s not as stupid as hiding cocaine in the house where your wife and son live.”

He may seem like a mountain, but I’m starting to feel like one myself.

“Oh, okay,” Pops says, stroking his chin. “This is Attack Adonis Day, huh? Say what you want, but I was being a man and taking care of my family.”

“You damn sure ain’t being one now.”

Pops’s nostrils flare. “Watch it.”

“Or what?” I’m feeling bold as hell, and things I’ve been scared to say suddenly not so scary. “You left us. Got Ma busting her ass to take care of me and put money on your books. I had to join a gang ’cause of you. You can’t come at either of us.”

“What I did ain’t got shit to do with the fact you keep knocking girls up.”

“Yeah, a’ight, I made some bad decisions,” I admit. “I’m gon’ be there for my kids. Unlike you.”

He can’t say nothing, like I thought.

I push away from the table. “Man, I’m outta here.”

“Maverick, we not done talking—”

“Yeah, we are. First you wanna blame Ma, and now you wanna come at me? What you doing besides bumping your gums? I’m more of a man than you. I’m taking care of mine.”

“Son—”

“‘Son,’ nothing. I ain’t had a father since I was eight.”