The Hate U Give(33)

But the bandana. Daddy once said that’s a King Lord tradition—they crown their fallen comrades by putting a folded bandana on the body, as if to say they’re going into heaven repping their set. Khalil must’ve joined to get that honor.

I could’ve talked him out of it, I know it, but I abandoned him. Fuck the friends’ side. I shouldn’t even be at his funeral.

Daddy stays with Ms. Rosalie for the rest of the service and later helps her when the family follows the casket out. Aunt Tammy motions us over to join them.

“Thank you for being here,” she tells me. “You meant a lot to Khalil, I hope you know that.”

My throat tightens too much for me to tell her he means a lot to me too.

We follow the casket with the family. Just about everyone we pass has tears in their eyes. For Khalil. He really is in that casket, and he’s not coming back.

I’ve never told anyone, but Khalil was my first crush. He unknowingly introduced me to stomach butterflies and later heartbreak when he got his own crush on Imani Anderson, a high schooler who wasn’t even thinking about fourth-grade him. I worried about my appearance for the first time around him.

But fuck the crush, he was one of the best friends I ever had, no matter if we saw each other every day or once a year. Time didn’t compare to all the shit we went through together. And now he’s in a casket, like Natasha.

Big fat tears fall from my eyes, and I sob. A loud, nasty, ugly sob that everybody hears and sees as I come up the aisle.

“They left me,” I cry.

Momma wraps her arm around me and presses my head onto her shoulder. “I know, baby, but we’re here. We aren’t going anywhere.”

Warmth brushes my face, and I know we’re outside. All of the voices and noises make me look. There are more people out here than in the church, holding posters with Khalil’s face on them and signs that say “Justice for Khalil.” His classmates have posters saying “Am I Next?” and “Enough Is Enough!” News vans with tall antennas are parked across the street.

I bury my face in Momma’s shoulder again. People—I don’t know who—pat my back and tell me it’ll be okay.

I can tell when it’s Daddy who’s rubbing my back without him even saying anything. “We gon’ stay and march, baby,” he tells Momma. “I want Seven and Sekani to be a part of this.”

“Yeah, I’m taking her home. How are y’all getting back?”

“We can walk to the store. I gotta open up anyway.” He kisses my hair. “I love you, baby girl. Get some rest, a’ight?”

Heels clack toward us, then someone says, “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Carter, I’m April Ofrah with Just Us for Justice.”

Momma tenses up and pulls me closer. “How may we help you?”

She lowers her voice and says, “Khalil’s grandmother told me that Starr is the one who was with Khalil when this happened. I know she gave a statement to the police, and I want to commend her on her bravery. This is a difficult situation, and that must’ve taken a lot of strength.”

“Yeah, it did,” Daddy says.

I move my head off Momma’s shoulder. Ms. Ofrah shifts her weight from foot to foot and fumbles with her fingers. My parents aren’t helping with the hard looks they’re giving her.

“We all want the same thing,” she says. “Justice for Khalil.”

“Excuse me, Ms. Ofrah,” Momma says, “but as much as I want that, I want my daughter to have some peace. And privacy.”

Momma looks at the news vans across the street. Ms. Ofrah glances back at them.

“Oh!” she says. “Oh no. No, no, no. We weren’t—I wasn’t—I don’t want to put Starr out there like that. Quite the opposite, actually. I want to protect her privacy.”

Momma loosens her hold. “I see.”

“Starr offers a unique perspective in this, one you don’t get a lot with these cases, and I want to make sure her rights are protected and that her voice is heard, but without her being—”

“Exploited?” Daddy asks. “Pimped?”

“Exactly. The case is about to gain national media attention, but I don’t want it to be at her expense.” She hands each of us a business card. “Besides being an advocate, I’m also an attorney. Just Us for Justice isn’t providing the Harris family with legal representation—someone else is doing that. We’re simply rallying behind them. However, I’m available and willing to represent Starr on my own. Whenever you’re ready, please give me a call. And I am so sorry for your loss.”

She disappears into the crowd.

Call her when I’m ready, huh? I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for the shit that’s about to happen.





NINE


My brothers come home with a message—Daddy’s spending the night at the store.

He also leaves instructions for us—stay inside.

A chain-link fence surrounds our house. Seven puts the big lock on the gate, the one we use when we go out of town. I bring Brickz inside. He doesn’t know how to act, walking around in circles and jumping on the furniture. Momma doesn’t say anything until he gets on her good sofa in the living room.

“Ay!” She snaps her fingers at him. “Get your big behind off my furniture. You crazy?”