The Hate U Give(86)
The dampness hasn’t left my eyes yet, and I’m not exactly smiling. I mutter, “Yeah.”
Daddy pulls me onto his lap. He cradles me and switches between kissing my cheek and pinching it, going over and over in a real deep voice, “What’s wrong with you? Huh? What’s wrong with you?”
And I’m giggling before I can stop myself.
Daddy gives me a sloppy, wet kiss to my cheek and lets me up. “I knew I’d get you laughing. Now what happened?”
“You saw the video. Hailey ran her mouth, so I popped her. Simple as that.”
“That’s your child, Maverick,” Momma says. “Gotta hit somebody because she didn’t like what they said.”
“Mine? Uh-uh, baby. That’s all you.” He looks at Seven. “Why were you fighting?”
“Dude came at my sister,” Seven says. “I wasn’t gonna let him.”
As much as Seven talks about protecting Kenya and Lyric, it’s nice that he has my back too.
Daddy replays the video, starting with Hailey saying, “He was probably gonna end up dead anyway.”
“Wow,” Momma says. “That li’l girl has a lot of nerve.”
“Spoiled ass don’t know a damn thing and running her mouth,” says Daddy.
“So, what’s our punishment?” Seven asks.
“Go do your homework,” Momma says.
“That’s it?” I say.
“You’ll also have to help your dad at the store while you’re suspended.” She drapes her arms over Daddy from behind. “Sound okay, baby?”
He kisses her arm. “Sounds good to me.”
If you can’t translate Parentish, this is what they really said: Momma: I don’t condone what you did, and I’m not saying it’s okay, but I probably would’ve done it too. What about you, baby?
Daddy: Hell yeah, I would’ve.
I love them for that.
PART 4
TEN WEEKS AFTER IT
TWENTY-ONE
Still no decision from the grand jury, so we’re still living.
It’s Saturday, and my family is at Uncle Carlos’s house for a Memorial Day weekend barbecue, which is also serving as Seven’s birthday/graduation party. He turns eighteen tomorrow, and he officially became a high school graduate yesterday. I’ve never seen Daddy cry like he did when Dr. Davis handed Seven that diploma.
The backyard smells like barbecue, and it’s warm enough that Seven’s friends swim in the pool. Sekani and Daniel run around in their trunks and push unsuspecting people in. They get Jess. She laughs about it and threatens to get them later. They try it once with me and Kenya and never again. All it takes is some swift kicks to their asses.
But DeVante comes up behind us and pushes me in. Kenya shrieks as I go under, getting my freshly done cornrows soaked and my J’s too. I have on board shorts and a tankini, but they’re new and cute, meaning they’re supposed to be looked at, not swam in.
I break the surface of the water and gulp in air.
“Starr, you okay?” Kenya calls. She’s run about five feet away from the pool.
“You not gon’ help me get out?” I say.
“Girl, nah. And mess up my outfit? You seem all right.”
Sekani and Daniel whoop and cheer for DeVante like he’s the greatest thing since Spide-Man. Bastards. I climb out that pool so fast.
“Uh-oh,” DeVante says, and the three of them take off in separate directions. Kenya goes after DeVante. I run after Sekani because dammit, blood is supposed to be thicker than pool water.
“Momma!” he squeals.
I catch him by his trunks and pull them way up, almost to his neck, until he has the worst wedgie ever. He gives a high-pitched scream. I let go, and he falls on the grass, his trunks so far up his butt it looks like he’s wearing a thong. That’s what he gets.
Kenya brings DeVante to me, holding his arms behind him like he’s under arrest. “Apologize,” she says.
“No!” Kenya yanks on his arms. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry!”
She lets go. “Better be.”
DeVante rubs his arm with a smirk. “Violent ass.”
“Punk ass,” she snips back.
He flicks his tongue at her, and she goes, “Boy, bye!”
This is flirting for them, believe it or not. I almost forget DeVante’s hiding from her daddy. They act like they’ve forgotten too.
DeVante gets me a towel. I snatch it and dry my face as I head to the poolside loungers with Kenya. DeVante sits beside her on one.
Ava skips over with her baby doll and a comb, and I naturally expect her to shove them into my hands. She hands them to DeVante instead.
“Here!” she tells him, and skips off.
And he starts combing the doll’s hair! Kenya and I stare at him for the longest.
“What?” he says.
We bust out laughing.
“She got you trained!” I say.
“Man.” He groans. “She cute, okay? I can’t tell her no.” He braids the doll’s hair, and his long thin fingers move so quickly, they look like they’ll get tangled. “My li’l sisters did me like this all the time.”
His tone dips when he mentions them. “You heard from them or your momma?” I ask.