The Hate U Give(56)

DeVante stares at his hand. No manners at all. “How you know my name?”

Uncle Carlos awkwardly lets his hand fall to his side. “Maverick told me about you. We’ve discussed getting you out here.”

“Oh!” Momma says with a hollow laugh. “Maverick’s discussed getting him out here.” She narrows her eyes at Daddy. “I’m surprised you even knew how to get out here, Maverick.”

Daddy’s nostrils flare. “We’ll talk later.”

“C’mon,” Uncle Carlos says. “I’ll show you your room.”

DeVante stares at the house, his eyes all big. “What you do to get a house like this?”

“Dang, you’re nosy,” I say.

Uncle Carlos chuckles. “It’s okay, Starr. My wife’s a surgeon, and I’m a detective.”

DeVante stops dead. He turns on Daddy. “What the fuck, man? You brought me to a cop?”

“Watch your mouth,” Daddy says. “And I brought you to somebody who actually wanna help you.”

“A cop though? If the homies find out, they gon’ think I’m snitching.”

“They’re not your homies if you gotta hide from them,” I say. “Plus Uncle Carlos wouldn’t ask you to snitch.”

“She’s right,” says Uncle Carlos. “Maverick’s really serious about getting you out of Garden Heights.”

Momma scoffs. Loudly.

“When he told us the situation, we wanted to help,” Uncle Carlos goes on. “And it sounds like you need our help.”

DeVante sighs. “Man, this ain’t cool.”

“Look, I’m on leave,” says Uncle Carlos. “You don’t have to worry about me getting information out of you.”

“Leave?” I say. That explains the sweats in the middle of the day. “Why’d they put you on leave?”

He glances from me to Momma, and she probably doesn’t know I see her shake her head real quick. “Don’t worry about it, baby girl,” he says, hooking his arm around me. “I needed a vacation.”

It’s so, so obvious. They put him on leave because of me.

Nana meets us at the front door. Knowing her, she’s been watching through the window since we got here. She has one arm folded and takes a drag of her cigarette with the other. She blows the smoke toward the ceiling while staring at DeVante. “Who he supposed to be?”

“DeVante,” Uncle Carlos says. “He’s staying with us.”

“What you mean he’s staying with us?”

“Just what I said. He got in a little trouble in Garden Heights and needs to stay here.”

She scoffs, and I know where Momma gets it from. “A li’l trouble, huh? Tell the truth, boy.” She lowers her voice and asks with suspicious, squinted eyes, “Did you kill somebody?”

“Momma!” my momma says.

“What? I better ask before y’all have me sleeping in the house with a murderer, waking up dead!”

What in the . . . “You can’t wake up dead,” I say.

“Li’l girl, you know what I mean!” She moves from the doorway. “I’ll be waking up in Jesus’s face, trying to figure out what happened!”

“Like you going to heaven,” Daddy mumbles.

Uncle Carlos gives DeVante a tour. His room is about as big as me and Seven’s rooms put together. It doesn’t seem right that he only has a little backpack to put in it, and when we go to the kitchen Uncle Carlos makes him hand that over.

“There are a few rules for living here,” Uncle Carlos says. “One, follow the rules. Two”—he pulls the Glock from DeVante’s backpack—“no weapons and no drugs.”

“I know you ain’t bring that in my house, Vante,” Daddy says.

“King probably got money on my head. You damn right I got a piece.”

“Rule three.” Uncle Carlos speaks over him. “No cursing. I have an eight-year-old and a three-year-old. They don’t need to hear that.”

’Cause they hear it from Nana enough. Ava’s new favorite word is “Goddammit!”

“Rule four,” Uncle Carlos says, “go to school.”

“Man,” DeVante groans. “I already told Big Mav I can’t go back to Garden High.”

“We know,” Daddy says. “Once we get in touch with your momma, we’ll get you enrolled in an online program. Lisa’s momma is a retired teacher. She can tutor you through it so you can finish the year out.”

“Like hell I can!” Nana says. I don’t know where she is, but I’m not surprised she’s listening.

“Momma, stop being nosy!” Uncle Carlos says.

“Stop volunteering me for shit!”

“Stop cursing,” he says.

“Tell me what to do again and see what happens.”

Uncle Carlos’s face and neck go red.

The doorbell rings.

“Carlos, get the door,” Nana says from wherever she’s hiding.

He purses his lips and leaves to answer. As he comes back I can hear him talking to somebody. Then somebody laughs, and I know that laugh ’cause it makes me laugh.

“Look who I found,” Uncle Carlos says.