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?”
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.