The Hate U Give(85)

When we turn on our street, I’m snot-nosed and wet-eyed. Finally numb.

A gray pickup and a green Chrysler 300 are parked behind Daddy’s truck in the driveway. Momma and Seven have to park in front of the house.

“What is this man up to?” Momma says. She looks over at me. “You feel better?”

I nod. What other choice do I have?

She leans over and kisses my temple. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”

We get out. I’m one hundred percent sure the cars in the driveway belong to King Lords and Garden Disciples. In Garden Heights you can’t drive a car that’s gray or green unless you claim a set. I expect yelling and cussing when I get inside, but all I hear is Daddy saying, “It don’t make no sense, man. For real, it don’t.”

It’s standing-room-only in the kitchen. We can’t even get in ’cause some guys are in the doorway. Half of them have green somewhere in their outfits. Garden Disciples. The others have light gray on somewhere. Cedar Grove King Lords. Mr. Reuben’s nephew, Tim, sits beside Daddy at the table. I’ve never noticed that cursive GD tattoo on his arm.

“We don’t know when the grand jury gon’ make their decision,” Daddy says. “But if they decide not to indict, y’all gotta tell these li’l dudes not to burn this neighborhood down.”

“What you expect them to do then?” says a GD at the table. “Folks tired of the bullshit, Mav.”

“Straight up,” says the King Lord Goon, who’s at the table too. His long plaits have ponytail holders on them like I used to wear way back in the day. “Nothing we can do ’bout it.”

“That’s bullshit,” says Tim. “We can do something.”

“We can all agree the riots got outta hand, right?” says Daddy.

He gets a bunch of “yeahs” and “rights.”

“Then we can make sure it doesn’t go down like that again. Talk to these kids. Get in their heads. Yeah, they mad. We all mad, but burning down our neighborhood ain’t gon’ fix it.”

“Our?” says the GD at the table. “Nigga, you said you moving.”

“To the suburbs,” Goon mocks. “You getting a minivan too, Mav?”

They all laugh at that.

Daddy doesn’t though. “I’m moving, so what? I’ll still have a store here, and I’ll still give a damn what happens here. Who is it gon’ benefit if the whole neighborhood burns down? Damn sure won’t benefit none of us.”

“We gotta be more organized next time,” says Tim. “For one, make sure our brothers and sisters know they can’t destroy black-owned businesses. That messes it up for all of us.”

“For real,” says Daddy. “And I know, me and Tim out the game, so we can’t speak on some things, but all these territory wars gotta be put aside somehow. This is bigger than some street shit. And honestly all the street shit got these cops thinking they can do whatever they want.”

“Yeah, I feel you on that,” says Goon.

“Y’all gotta come together somehow, man,” Daddy says. “For the sake of the Garden. The last thing they’d ever expect is some unity around here. A’ight?”

Daddy slaps palms with Goon and the Garden Disciple. Then Goon and the Garden Disciple slap palms with each other.

“Wow,” Seven says.

It’s huge that these two gangs are in the same room together, and for my daddy to be the one behind it? Crazy.

He notices us in the doorway. “What y’all doing here?”

Momma inches into the kitchen, looking around. “The kids got suspended.”

“Suspended?” Daddy says. “For what?”

Seven passes him his phone.

“It’s online already?” I say.

“Yeah, somebody tagged me in it.”

Daddy taps the screen, and I hear Hailey running her mouth about Khalil, then a loud smack.

Some of the gang members watch over Daddy’s shoulder. “Damn, li’l momma,” one says, “you got hands.”

“You crazy bi—,” Remy says on the phone. A bunch of smacks and oohs follow.

“Look at my boy!” Daddy says. “Look at him!”

“I ain’t know your li’l nerdy ass had it in you,” a King Lord teases.

Momma clears her throat. Daddy stops the video.

“A’ight, y’all,” he says, serious all of a sudden. “I gotta handle some family business. We’ll meet back up tomorrow.”

Tim and all the gang members clear out, and cars crank up outside. Still no gunshots or arguing. They could’ve broken out into a gangsta rendition of “Kumbaya” and I wouldn’t be any more shocked than I am.

“How did you get all of them in here and keep the house in one piece?” Momma asks.

“I got it like that.”

Momma kisses him on the lips. “You certainly do. My man, the activist.”

“Uh-huh.” He kisses her back. “Your man.”

Seven clears his throat. “We’re standing right here.”

“Ay, y’all can’t complain,” Daddy says. “If you wouldn’t have been fighting, you wouldn’t have to see that.” He reaches over and pinches my cheek a little. “You a’ight?”