The Hate U Give(44)

“Yeah, King says you one of the best d-boys he ever knew,” DeVante says.

Daddy shrugs. “I got it from my pops. But really I was only good ’cause I never got caught. One day, me and King took a trip to do a pickup, and we got busted. Cops wanted to know who the weapons belonged to. King had two strikes, and that charge would’ve meant life. I didn’t have a record, so I took the charge and got a few years and probation. Loyal like a motha.

“Those were the hardest three years of my life. Growing up I was pissed at my daddy for going to prison and leaving me. And there I was, in the same prison as him, missing out on my babies’ lives.”

DeVante’s eyebrows meet. “You were in prison with your pops?”

Daddy nods. “All my life, people made him sound like a real king, you know what I’m saying? A legend. But he was a weak old man, regretting the time he missed with me. Realest thing he ever told me was, ‘Don’t repeat my mistakes.’” Daddy looks at me again. “And I was doing that. I missed first days of school, all that. Had my baby wanting to call somebody else daddy ’cause I wasn’t there.”

I look away. He knows how close Uncle Carlos and I became.

“I was officially done with the King Lord shit, drug shit, all of it,” Daddy says. “And since I took that charge, King agreed to let me out. It made those three years worth it.”

DeVante’s eyes dim like they do when he talks about his brother. “You had to go to prison to get out?”

“I’m the exception, not the rule,” Daddy says. “When people say it’s for life, it’s for life. You gotta be willing to die in it or die for it. You want out?”

“I don’t wanna go to prison.”

“He didn’t ask you that,” I say. “He asked if you wanted out.”

DeVante is quiet for a long time. He looks up at Daddy and says, “I just wanna be alive, man.”

Daddy strokes his goatee. He sighs. “A’ight. I’ll help you. But I promise, you go back to slinging or banging, you’ll wish King would’ve got you when I’m done. You go to school?”

“Yeah.”

“What your grades look like?” Daddy asks.

He shrugs.

“What the hell is this?” Daddy imitates DeVante’s shrug. “You know what grades you get, so what kind?”

“I mean, I get As and Bs and shit,” DeVante says. “I ain’t dumb.”

“A’ight, good. We gon’ make sure you stay in school too.”

“Man, I can’t go back to Garden High,” DeVante says. “All them King Lords up in there. You know that’s a death wish, right?”

“I ain’t say you was going there. We’ll figure something out. In the meantime you can work here in the store. You been staying home at night?”

“Nah. King got his boys watching for me over there.”

“Of course he do,” Daddy mumbles. “We’ll figure something out with that too. Starr, show him how to do the price stickers.”

“You’re really hiring him, just like that?” I ask.

“Whose store is this, Starr?”

“Yours, but—”

“’Nuff said. Show him how to do the price stickers.”

DeVante snickers. I wanna punch him in his throat.

“C’mon,” I mumble.

We sit crossed-legged in the chip aisle. Daddy locks the front door and goes back in his office. I grab a jumbo bag of Hot Cheetos and slap a ninety-nine-cent sticker on them.

“You supposed to show me how to do it,” DeVante says.

“I am showing you. Watch.”

I grab another bag. He leans real close over my shoulder. Too close. Breathing in my ear and shit. I move my head and look at him. “Do you mind?”

“What’s your problem with me?” he asks. “You caught an attitude yesterday, soon as I walked up. I ain’t did nothing to you.”

I put a sticker on some Doritos. “No, but you did it to Denasia. And Kenya. And who knows how many other girls in Garden Heights.”

“Hold up, I ain’t do nothing to Kenya.”

“You asked for her number, didn’t you? Even though you’re with Denasia.”

“I’m not with Denasia. I just danced with her at that party,” he says. “She the one who wanted to act like she was my girlfriend and got mad ’cause I was talking to Kenya. If I wouldn’t have been dealing with them, I could’ve—” He swallows. “I could’ve helped Dalvin. By the time I got to him, he was on the floor, bleeding. All I could do was hold him.”

I see myself sitting in a pool of blood too. “And try to tell him it would be okay, even though you knew—”

“There was no chance in hell it would be.”

We go quiet.

I get one of those weird déjà-vu moments though. I see myself sitting cross-legged like I am now, but I’m showing Khalil how to do the price stickers.

We couldn’t help Khalil with his situation before he died. Maybe we can help DeVante.

I hand him a bag of Hot Fries. “I’m only gonna explain how to use this price gun one time, and you better pay attention.”

He grins. “My attention’s all yours, li’l momma.”