Concrete Rose (The Hate U Give, #0)(67)

“What? That’s bullshit,” King says.

“It’s my own fault, King. I accept that. I refuse to do another year though. It would be a waste of my time.”

“Hell yeah, it would. Who wanna look in Mr. Phillips’s ol’ wrinkly face for another year?”

“Word.” I laugh with him. “Mr. Clayton said I could take night classes to get my GED.”

“Another waste of time,” King says. “Once you focus on this drug shit completely, you’ll be making more than Clayton and the teachers. Bet that.”

“I know,” I mumble. I left the school knowing that. At the same time, this ain’t what I wanna do forever. I mean what I told Dre. Slinging is supposed to be temporary.

Being a man don’t got nothing to do with what I want. I gotta do what I gotta do, and it looks like that’s selling drugs.

“Ay,” King says, and I look at him. “Don’t stress this. You my boy, I’m gon’ make sure you good. We homies for life, remember?” He hold his fist over to me.

Now I’m feeling real stupid. “Man, I’m sorry that I—”

“I forgive you,” King says. “We cool. A’ight?”

I dap him up. “A’ight.”

King reach in his McDonald’s bag for some fries. “That school stuff all that was bothering you?”

I see Dre’s watch on Red’s wrist as clear as I see my own wrist. “Nah,” I say, through my teeth. “I saw Red yesterday. He was wearing the watch that was stolen off Dre when he was killed.”

King look up from his bag. “What? You bullshitting me.”

That’s what P-Nut should’ve said. “Not even a li’l bit. On top of that, when he saw me staring at it, his ass got shook.”

“Yooo! That’s suspect as hell. You tell P-Nut and them?”

I sit beside King. “Don’t get me started. I told that dumbass yesterday. He gon’ tell me Red probably bought the watch from Ant, and he too much of a coward to kill Dre.”

“What the hell? We talking ’bout the same crooked Red?” King shake his head. “P-Nut dumb ass don’t need to be the crown.”

“Who you telling?” I fold my arms on top of my lap. “He threatened to jump me if I kept pushing the issue. Said I was making him look stupid.”

“He looked in a mirror lately? Stupid written on his forehead.”

I smirk. “Don’t you know? P-Nut full of intelligisms that have preparized him for the situonalization at hand.”

Me and King crack up. It feel good to laugh with him again.

“You know what this mean, right?” he says, after a minute.

That’s one reason I couldn’t sleep last night.

I stare ahead at the floor, and I can almost see Dre. I’ll never forget holding him in the middle of the street as blood leaked outta his body. It’s tatted on my brain for life.

If Red did that to him, I swear on everything I love he ain’t got much time left.

I look at King. “I gotta kill that nigga.”





Twenty-Three


Seven don’t care ’bout Red or that I can’t graduate. He giving me hell tonight.

I wipe his face for the fifty-leventh time. I’m tryna feed him this jar of pureed peas and carrots with a li’l applesauce mixed in like Mrs. Wyatt taught me. This boy here . . . he shake his head to dodge the spoon with his lips shut tight. When I do sneak some in his mouth, he spit it right out. There’s splatters of green and orange mush everywhere.

“C’mon, man,” I groan. “I know peas and carrots not the best, but give me a break, a’ight? Dada had a rough day.”

“Da-da-da-da-da!” he repeat. He first said it on Christmas. Best gift I ever got, for real.

As he saying “Da-da,” I put a spoonful of food in his mouth.

This boy look right at me, and I swear to God he spit it dead in my face.

Don’t let the cuteness fool you. Babies straight-up thugs. They don’t give a damn what you going through.

I grab a paper towel and wipe off the mush. “Stop spitting your food out.”

Seven blow raspberries, sending spit flying in my face, too.

I rest my forehead on his high chair. I give up. He too stubborn and smart for his own good. Yesterday I gave him pancakes for breakfast, and he wouldn’t let this one li’l piece go for nothing. Acted a fool when I tried to take it from him. I was like forget it and took him to Mrs. Wyatt’s, gripping that pancake.

Ma think he sense that another baby coming and acting out. I don’t know, but this need to quit for real. I’m dealing with enough tonight. For one, I gotta tell Ma I can’t graduate. She might kill me, which would stop me from handling the other thing on my plate—Red.

King said he’ll get me a gun. This should be easy-peasy once I have my piece. Yet my stomach knot up every time I think ’bout shooting Red.

Seven pat the top of my head. “Da-da-da-da-da!”

I look at him, and my lips turn up. “You tryna cheer me up, man?”

He stick his hand in the baby food and hold it toward me.

“Ahhh,” I say as I open my mouth wide. I let him feed me the baby food, then I act like I’m gon’ eat his hand. He pull away, giggling.