Concrete Rose (The Hate U Give, #0)(7)

“I said are you listening? There’s a difference.”

“I’m listening, Ma.”

“Good. They left enough diapers and formula to last the weekend. I’ll call your aunt ’Nita, see if they have Andreanna’s old crib. We can set it up in your room.”

“My room? He gon’ keep me awake!”

She set her hand on her hip. “Who else he’s supposed to keep awake?”

“Man,” I groan.

“Don’t ‘man’ me! You’re a father now. It’s not about you anymore.” Ma pick up the baby bag. “I’ll fix him a bottle. Can you keep an eye on him, or is that a problem?”

“I’ll watch him,” I mumble.

“Thank you.” She go to the kitchen. “‘He gon’ keep me awake.’ The nerve!”

I plop down on the couch. Li’l Man stare at me from the car seat. That’s what I’m gon’ call him for now, Li’l Man. King Jr. don’t feel right when he my son.

My son. Wild to think that one li’l condom breaking turned me into somebody’s father. I sigh. “Guess it’s you and me now, huh?”

I hold my hand toward him, and he grip my finger. He small to be so strong. “Gah-lee,” I laugh. “You gon’ break my finger.”

He try to put it in his mouth, but I don’t let him. My fingernails dirty as hell. That only make him whine.

“Ay, ay, chill.” I unstrap him and lift him out. He way heavier than he look. I try to rest him in my arms and support his neck like Ma told me to. He whimper and squirm till suddenly he wailing. “Ma!”

She come back with the bottle. “What, Maverick?”

“I can’t hold him right.”

She adjust him in my arms. “You relax, and he’ll relax. Now here, give him the bottle.” She hand it to me, and I put it in his mouth. “Lower it a little bit, Maverick. You don’t wanna feed him fast. There you go. When he’s halfway through it, burp him. Burp him again when he’s done.”

“How?”

“Hold him against your shoulder and pat his back.”

Hold him right, lower the bottle, burp him. “Ma, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. In fact, you’re doing it now.”

I hadn’t realized Li’l Man stopped crying. He suck the bottle and grip my shirt, staring up at me.

I look at him. I mean look at him. Yeah, I see me—ain’t no denying he mine. More than that, I see my son.

My heart balloon in my chest.

“Hey, man.” For some reason this feel like I’m meeting him for the first time. “Hey.”

“I’m gonna throw his clothes in the washing machine,” Ma says. “Who knows what kinda germs they’ve got at that house.”

Don’t nobody hate germs like Ma. She got asthma, and the weirdest stuff can set her off.

“Thanks, Ma.”

She go back to the laundry room. I watch my son, and I gotta admit as much as I’m in awe I ain’t never been this scared in my life. He a whole human being that I helped make. Got a heart, lungs, a brain partly ’cause of me, and now I basically gotta keep him alive.

This almost too much. Definitely not how I planned to spend my Friday ni—

Oh, dang. The party. Ain’t no way Ma gon’ let me go.

I stop feeding Li’l Man long enough to dial Lisa’s number on the cordless phone. I hold it to my ear with my shoulder. It ring a couple of times, then she go, “Hey, Mav.”

I always forget that her momma got caller ID. “Hey. This not a bad time, is it?”

There’s a muffled sound like she moving around. “Nope. Just putting an outfit together for the party. Why? What’s up?”

I really feel like shit now. “Umm . . . I can’t take you out tonight. Something came up.”

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah. My momma want me to stay home and take care of stuff here.”

That ain’t a lie. It just ain’t all of the truth. This baby in my arms ain’t exactly a phone conversation, you know?

“Sounds like my momma,” Lisa says, and I can practically hear her roll her eyes. “I could come over and keep you company if you want.”

“Nah!”

I startled Li’l Man. His face scrunch up.

“My bad,” I tell him and Lisa, and bounce him a bit. Please, God, don’t let him cry. “You ain’t gotta spend your Friday watching me do chores. I’m a’ight.”

“Okay,” Lisa says. “See you this weekend?”

“Nah. I’m not allowed to go anywhere.”

“Dang. What did you do?”

That’s a loaded-ass question. “You know how it go. I’ll holla at you.”

We tell each other “I love you” like we always do, and I hang up with a deep breath. “Li’l Man, you almost got me in trouble.”

He stop sucking his bottle long enough to stretch his mouth and yawn. He clearly don’t care.

He halfway done eating. Guess I gotta burp him now. Ma said hold him against my shoulder and gently pat his back. I pat once, twice, three times—

He hiccup. Something warm ooze down my back.

“Ill, man!” I hop off the couch. This boy puked on me. He cry, and shoot, I wanna cry. “Ma!”