The Hate U Give(63)

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

I feel like shit right now. I can’t believe I let Hailey say that. Or has she always joked like that? Did I always laugh because I thought I had to?

That’s the problem. We let people say stuff, and they say it so much that it becomes okay to them and normal for us. What’s the point of having a voice if you’re gonna be silent in those moments you shouldn’t be?

“Maya?” I say.

“Yeah?”

“We can’t let her get away with saying stuff like that again, okay?”

She cracks a smile. “A minority alliance?”

“Hell, yeah,” I say, and we laugh.

“All right. Deal.”

A game of NBA 2K15 later (I whooped Maya’s butt), I’m walking back to Uncle Carlos’s house with a foil-wrapped plate of seafood lasagna. Mrs. Yang never lets me leave empty-handed, and I never turn down food.

Iron streetlamps line the sidewalks, and I see Uncle Carlos from a few houses down, sitting on his front steps in the dark. He’s chugging back something, and as I get closer, I can see the Heineken.

I put my plate on the steps and sit beside him.

“You better not have been at your li’l boyfriend’s house,” he says.

Lord. Chris is always “li’l” to him, and they’re almost the same height. “No. I was at Maya’s.” I stretch my legs forward and yawn. It’s been a long-ass day. “I can’t believe you’re drinking,” I say through my yawn.

“I’m not drinking. It’s one beer.”

“Is that what Nana said?”

He cuts me a look. “Starr.”

“Uncle Carlos,” I say as firmly.

We battle it out, hard stare versus hard stare.

He sets the beer down. Here’s the thing—Nana’s an alcoholic. She’s not as bad as she used to be, but all it takes is one hard drink and she’s the “other” Nana. I’ve heard stories of her drunken rages from back in the day. She’d blame Momma and Uncle Carlos that their daddy went back to his wife and other kids. She’d lock them out the house, cuss at them, all kinds of stuff.

So, no. One beer isn’t one beer to Uncle Carlos, who’s always been anti-alcohol.

“Sorry,” he says. “It’s one of those nights.”

“You saw the interview, didn’t you?” I ask.

“Yeah. I was hoping you didn’t.”

“I did. Did my mom see—”

“Oh yeah, she saw it. So did Pam. And your grandma. I’ve never been in a room with so many pissed-off women in my life.” He looks at me. “How are you dealing with it?”

I shrug. Yeah, I’m pissed, but honestly? “I expected his dad to make him the victim.”

“I did too.” He rests his cheek in his palm, his elbow propped on his knee. It’s not too dark on the steps. I see the bruising on his hand fine.

“So . . . ,” I say, patting my knees. “On leave, huh?”

He looks at me like he’s trying to figure out what I’m getting at. “Yeah?”

Silence.

“Did you fight him, Uncle Carlos?”

He straightens up. “No, I had a discussion with him.”

“You mean your fist talked to his eye. Did he say something about me?”

“He pointed his gun at you. That was more than enough.”

His voice has a foreign edge to it. It’s totally inappropriate, but I laugh. I have to hold my side I laugh so hard.

“What’s so funny?” he cries.

“Uncle Carlos, you punched somebody!”

“Hey, I’m from Garden Heights. I know how to fight. I can get down.”

I’m hollering right now.

“It’s not funny!” he says. “I shouldn’t have lost my cool like that. It was unprofessional. Now I’ve set a bad example for you.”

“Yeah, you have, Muhammad Ali.”

I’m still laughing. Now he’s laughing.

“Hush,” he says.

Our laughter dies down, and it’s real quiet out here. Nothing to do but look at the sky and all the stars. There’s so many of them tonight. It’s possible that I don’t notice them at home because of all the other stuff. Sometimes it’s hard to believe Garden Heights and Riverton Hills share the same sky.

“You remember what I used to tell you?” Uncle Carlos says.

I scoot closer to him. “That I’m not named after the stars, but the stars are named after me. You were really trying to give me a big head, huh?”

He chuckles. “No. I wanted you to know how special you are.”

“Special or not, you shouldn’t have risked your job for me. You love your job.”

“But I love you more. You’re one reason I even became a cop, baby girl. Because I love you and all those folks in the neighborhood.”

“I know. That’s why I don’t want you to risk it. We need the ones like you.”

“The ones like me.” He gives a hollow laugh. “You know, I got pissed listening to that man talk about you and Khalil like that, but it made me consider the comments I made about Khalil that night in your parents’ kitchen.”