The Hate U Give(105)

“But she didn’t mean to put me in—”

“Oh, I’ve dealt with her already, don’t worry. Here. She wants to apologize to you.”

Ms. Ofrah does apologize for putting me in a bad situation and for the way things turned out with Khalil, but she says she’s proud of me.

She also says she thinks I have a future in activism.

Momma leaves with the phone, and I turn onto my side. Tupac stares back at me from a poster, a smirk on his face. The Thug Life tattoo on his stomach looks bolder than the rest of the photo. It was the first thing I put in my new room. Kinda like bringing Khalil with me.

He said Thug Life stood for “The Hate U Give Little Infants Fucks Everybody.” We did all that stuff last night because we were pissed, and it fucked all of us. Now we have to somehow un-fuck everybody.

I sit up and grab my phone off my nightstand. There are texts from Maya, who saw me on the news and thinks I’m dope personified, and texts from Chris. His parents grounded him, but he says it was so worth it. It really was.

There’s another text. From Hailey, of all people. Two simple words: I’m sorry.

Not what I expected; not that I expected to get anything from her; not that I even wanna deal with her. This is the first time she’s spoken to me since our fight. I’m not complaining. She’s been nonexistent to me too. I respond anyway.

Sorry for what?

I’m not being petty. Petty would be saying, “New number, who dis?” There’s a damn near endless list of things she could be apologizing for.

About the decision, she says.

And that you’re upset with me.

Haven’t been myself lately.

Just want everything to be how it used to be.

The sympathy for the case is nice, but she’s sorry I’m upset? That’s not the same as apologizing for her actions or the garbage she said. She’s sorry I reacted the way I did.

Oddly enough, I needed to know that.

You see, it’s like my mom said—if the good outweighs the bad, I should keep Hailey as a friend. There’s a shit ton of bad now, an overload of bad. I hate to admit that a teeny-tiny part of me hoped Hailey would see how wrong she was, but she hasn’t. She may not ever see that.

And you know what? That’s fine. Okay, maybe not fine, because it makes her a shitty-ass person, but I don’t have to wait around for her to change. I can let go. I reply: Things will never be the way they used to be.

I hit send, wait for the text to go through, and delete the conversation. I delete Hailey’s number from my phone too.

I stretch and yawn as I creep down the hall. The layout of our new house is way different than our old one, but I think I can get used to it.

Daddy clips some roses at the kitchen counter. Next to him Sekani inhales a sandwich, and Brickz stands on his hind legs with his paws on Sekani’s lap. He watches the sandwich the same way he watches a squirrel.

Momma flips switches on the wall. One causes a grinding noise in the sink, and another turns the lights off and on.

“Too many switches,” she mumbles, and notices me. “Oh look, Maverick. It’s our li’l revolutionary.”

Brickz scuttles over to me and jumps up my legs, tongue wagging.

“Morning,” I tell him, and scratch behind his ears. He gets down and returns to Sekani and the sandwich.

“Do me a favor, Starr,” Seven says, searching through a box that has “Kitchen Stuff” written on it in my handwriting. “Next time, be more specific about what type of kitchen stuff is in the box. I’ve gone through three, trying to find plates.”

I climb onto a stool at the counter. “Lazy butt, isn’t that what paper towels are for?”

Seven narrows his eyes. “Hey, Pops, guess where I picked Starr up from yester—”

“The plates are in the bottom of that box,” I say.

“Thought so.”

My middle finger wants to extend so bad.

Daddy says, “You bet’ not have been at that boy’s house, I know that.”

I force a smile. “No. Of course not.”

I’m gonna kill Seven.

Daddy sucks his teeth. “Uh-huh.” He goes back to work on his roses. An entire bush lies on the counter. The roses are dry, and some of the petals have fallen off. Daddy sets the bush in a clay pot and pours dirt over the roots.

“Will they be all right?” I ask.

“Yeah. A li’l damaged, but alive. I’m gon’ try something different with them. Putting them in new soil can be like hitting a reset button.”

“Starr,” Sekani says, mouth full of wet bread and meat. Nasty. “You’re in the newspaper.”

“Stop talking with your mouth full, boy!” Momma scolds.

Daddy nods toward the newspaper on the counter. “Yeah. Check it out, Li’l Black Panther.”

I’m on the front page. The photographer caught me mid-throw. The can of tear gas smokes in my hand. The headline reads “The Witness Fights Back.”

Momma rests her chin on my shoulder. “They’ve discussed you on every news show this morning. Your nana calls every five minutes, telling us a new channel to watch.” She kisses my cheek. “I know you better not scare me like that again.”

“I won’t. What are they saying on the news?”

“They calling you brave,” Daddy says. “But you know, that one network gotta complain, saying you put them cops in danger.”