The Hate U Give(60)

FOURTEEN


I end up at Maya’s house. Truth be told, that’s the farthest I can go in Uncle Carlos’s neighborhood before the houses start looking the same.

It’s that weird time between day and night when the sky looks like it’s on fire and mosquitoes are on the hunt; all of the lights at the Yang house are already on, which is a lot of lights. Their house is big enough for me and my family to live with them and have a little wiggle room. There’s a blue Infiniti Coupe with a dented bumper in the circular driveway. Hailey can’t drive for shit.

No lie, it stings a little knowing they hang out without me. That’s what happens when you live so far away from your friends. I can’t get mad about it. Jealous maybe. Not mad.

That protest shit though? Now that makes me mad. Mad enough to ring the doorbell. Besides, I told Maya the three of us could talk, so fine, we’ll talk.

Mrs. Yang answers, her Bluetooth headset around her neck.

“Starr!” She beams and hugs me. “So good to see you. How is everyone?”

“Good,” I say. She announces my arrival to Maya and lets me in. The aroma of Mrs. Yang’s seafood lasagna greets me in the foyer.

“I hope it’s not a bad time,” I say.

“Not at all, sweetie. Maya’s upstairs. Hailey too. You’re more than welcome to join us for dinner. . . . No, George, I wasn’t talking to you,” she says into her headset, then mouths at me, “My assistant,” and rolls her eyes a little.

I smile and take off my Nike Dunks. In the Yang house, shoe removal is part Chinese tradition, part Mrs. Yang likes people to be comfy.

Maya races down the stairs, wearing an oversized T-shirt and basketball shorts that almost hang to her ankles. “Starr!”

She reaches the bottom, and there’s this awkward moment where her arms are out like she wants to hug me, but she starts lowering them. I hug her anyway. It’s been a while since I got a good Maya hug. Her hair smells like citrus, and she hugs all tight and motherly.

Maya leads me to her bedroom. White Christmas lights hang from the ceiling. There’s a shelf for video games, Adventure Time memorabilia all around, and Hailey in a beanbag chair, concentrating on the basketball players she’s controlling on Maya’s flat-screen.

“Look who’s here, Hails,” Maya says.

Hailey glances up at me. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

It’s Awkward Central in here.

I step over an empty Sprite can and a bag of Doritos and sit in the other beanbag chair. Maya closes her door. An old-school poster of Michael Jordan, in his famous Jumpman pose, is on the back.

Maya belly flops onto her bed and grabs a controller off the floor. “You wanna join in, Starr?”

“Yeah, sure.”

She hands me a third controller, and we start a new game—the three of us against a computer-controlled team. It’s a lot like when we play in real life, a combination of rhythm, chemistry, and skill, but the awkwardness in the room is so thick it’s hard to ignore.

They keep glancing at me. I keep my eyes on the screen. The animated crowd cheers as Hailey’s player makes a three-pointer. “Nice shot,” I say.

“Okay, cut the crap.” Hailey grabs the TV remote and flicks the game off, turning to a detective show instead. “Why are you mad at us?”

“Why did you protest?” Since she wants to cut the crap, may as well get right to it.

“Because,” she says, like that’s reason enough. “I don’t see what the big deal is, Starr. You said you didn’t know him.”

“Why does that make a difference?”

“Isn’t a protest a good thing?”

“Not if you’re only doing it to cut class.”

“So you want us to apologize for it even though everybody else did it too?” Hailey asks.

“Just because everyone else did it doesn’t mean it’s okay.”

Shit. I sound like my mother.

“Guys, stop!” Maya says. “Hailey, if Starr wants us to apologize, fine, we can apologize. Starr, I’m sorry for protesting. It was stupid to use a tragedy just to get out of class.”

We look at Hailey. She sits back and folds her arms. “I’m not apologizing when I didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, she should apologize for accusing me of being racist last week.”

“Wow,” I say. One thing that irks the hell out of me about Hailey? The way she can turn an argument around and make herself the victim. She’s a master at this shit. I used to fall for it, but now?

“I’m not apologizing for what I felt,” I say. “I don’t care what your intention was, Hailey. That fried chicken comment felt racist to me.”

“Fine,” she says. “Just like I felt it was fine to protest. Since I won’t apologize for what I felt, and you won’t apologize for what you felt, I guess we’ll just watch TV.”

“Fine,” I say.

Maya grunts like it’s taking everything in her not to choke us. “You know what? If you two want to be this stubborn, fine.”

Maya flicks through channels. Hailey does that BS move where you look at someone out the corner of your eye, but you don’t want them to know that you care enough to look, so you avert your eyes. At this point it’s whatever. I thought I came to talk, but yeah, I really want an apology.