Concrete Rose (The Hate U Give, #0)(60)

White Boy Aaron head my way. He got stringy brown hair that almost cover his eyes. Look straight outta a boy band. Ay, for the record, I only know what them fools look like ’cause Lisa love her some *NSYNC. She around these private-school kids too much.

He wipe his nose, a signal that he want some powder. Then he slap my palm, putting money in my hands. “Mav, my man.”

I pretend to scratch my forehead so I can see what’s in my palm. Yep, that’s enough. I slip my hand in my front pocket and feel around for a baggie. “What’s good with you, A?”

“Chilling like a villain. Nice kicks, bro!”

“Thanks. I copped these joints at the mall.”

“No, bro, thank you for hooking up my party last weekend,” he says. “It was off the chain!”

I don’t know what it is with white kids and cocaine. Ay, if they buying, I’m selling. “Man, no problem at all. You always come through with big dough.”

“It pays to have rich grandparents. That was ‘just because’ money.”

“Shiiid, can they adopt me?” I ask.

“They’re racist assholes. You wouldn’t want that, and they wouldn’t want you.”

Damn. At least he honest.

“Catch you later, my man,” he says, and hold his palm out. I slap it, sliding his cocaine to him. Easy money.

He walk off as Lisa come out the school doors. I smile . . . till I see she laughing and talking with Plain-Ass Connor.

What the hell? They real buddy-buddy like. She got her arm hooked through his as he carry her backpack. I swear they practically in their own li’l world.

Lisa slide on her backpack with his help. “Connor, you remember my friend Maverick. Maverick, this is Connor.”

I’m her friend. He simply “Connor.” She can’t be checking for this dude. She can’t.

He do a quick chin lift. “’S’up?”

Wait, this white boy know the nod? “Whaddup?” I say, with a nod back.

“Anyway,” Lisa says, like I was an interruption, and she turn to him. “You promise you’ll get that TLC CD the day it comes out? I know it’s gonna be the bomb.”

“Of course. As long as we can declare that I’m not a scrub.”

Lisa giggles. “You definitely aren’t.”

Connor smile at her, and she grin back. I’m not even here.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” Connor slide his backpack off and dig around. He take out a little brown teddy bear and hold it toward Lisa. “I got it for your baby.”

“Awwww!” Lisa hug it to her chest. “It’s so cute. Thank you, Connor.”

“You bought a toy for our baby?” I stress that “our” part. “Ain’t it early for that?”

“What can I say? I like babies.” Connor look dead at me. “I’m good with them, too.”

Yoooo, this fool basically just told me he tryna raise my kid.

He kiss Lisa’s cheek. “Catch you later.”

“Later,” she says. She watch him walk away with a smile.

I point back at him. “Don’t tell me you dating that cornball?”

“Wow, I’m doing fine, although your child had me nauseated all day. Thank you for asking. How are you?”

“C’mon, Lisa. You can’t really be into that dude. What you see in him?”

“For one, he’s not a gangbanger,” she says. “Two, he’s doing things with his life. Three—”

“He corny as shit.”

Lisa’s lips thin. “That’s your opinion. It’s none of your business anyway. You and I are only friends, remember?”

“I know,” I say, tryna play it cool. I can’t let her think I’m tripping over this. “But I oughta know who might be around my baby, right?” I touch her stomach. Her puffy coat hide her bump. “How he doing today anyway?”

“She is fine.”

“Nah, he. Bet you it’s a boy.”

“I bet you ten dollars and a rib plate from Reuben’s that it’s a girl,” Lisa says.

“A rib plate?”

“Yep! With fries and extra sauce on the side.”

“You so damn greedy. Fine. It’s a bet.” I hold my palm out.

Lisa slap it. “You may as well get me that rib plate now, homie.”

I smirk as we start for the bus stop. “You hungry, ain’t you?”

“Duh. They gave us some nasty steak fingers and mashed potatoes for lunch. Okay yeah, I ate them, but your baby wanted barbecue.”

“My baby? Ain’t he ours?”

“When she’s like this, she’s yours,” Lisa says.

I shake my head. “You bad as my momma. I mess up, I’m Adonis’s son. It’s a trip.”

Lisa grip her backpack straps. “You know . . . you really should talk to your dad.”

I groan. “Drop that, Lisa.”

“No. You love your father, he loves you. You know what I’d give to have my momma call and check on me?”

We sit on the bench at the bus stop. “He called me stupid for getting you pregnant.”

“Having unprotected sex was stupid,” Lisa says. “We both admitted that. Why is it so different coming from him?”