 Bowser and Bray and Harper Audio present. Concrete Rose by Angie Thomas. Performed by Dionne Graham. For all the roses growing in concrete, keep blossoming. Part one, germination. When it comes to the streets, there's rules. They ain't written down and you won't find them in a book. It's natural stuff. You know the moment your mama let you out the house. Kind of like how you know how to breathe by somebody telling you. If there was a book, though, there would be a whole section on street ball. And the most important rule would be at the top in big, bold letters. Don't get your ass beat in front of a fine girl, especially if she your girl. But that's exactly what I'm doing, getting my ass beat in front of Lisa. It's OK, Maverick. She calls out from a picnic table. You've got this. Straight up, I ain't got nothing. Me and King got zero points to Dre and Sean's 11. One more point and they win. Biggest King is you think he'd block Sean's lanky ass or something. Sean getting bomb like he don't exist. Posting them up, shooting jumpers in his face, all that. Got the homies going wild on the sidelines and got King looking like a fool. I can't be mad at King. Now what's going down today? My head not in the game much either. It's one of the perfect August days where the sun real bright yet. It's not too hot to play ball. Rose Park full of King lords in gray and black. Seemed like all the homies came to get a game in. Not the King lords need an excuse to come to Rose. This our territory. We handle business here. Chill out here. Get our bus kicked on the court here. I checked the ball to Dre. He grand extra wide. Come on, man. You going out like this in front of your girl? Lisa should have played instead of you. Ooh, they go along the sidelines. Dre never go easy on me because I'm his younger cousin. He been dunking on me since I was big enough to hold a ball. What about this whooping you're going to take in front of your girls? I say Keisha and Andriana will want to claim you after this one. There go more oohs. Dre's fiance Keisha is over at the picnic table with Lisa laughing. Keisha and Dre's daughter Andriana is in her lap. Look at little homie trash talking. Sean says grinning with his gold grill. We should call him Martin Luther King because he got a dream if he think he winning. Dre says, I have a dream. Sean tried to sound like MLK. That one day you may step on this court and get a goddamn point. The homies laugh. Truth is Sean's joke could have been wack and they laugh. That's how it is when you're the crown of the king lords, the Caesar of Rome. People do what they supposed to in order to stay on your good side. One of them yell out, don't let them punk you little Don and little Zeke. It don't matter that my pops been locked up for nine years or that King's pop been there almost as long. They're still big Don, the former crown. And big Zeke is right hand man. They make me little Don and King little Zeke. Guess we're not old enough to go by our own names yet. Dre bounced the ball. What you got, cuz? You start right. I follow and run straight into Sean's chest. They run in a pick and roll. Dre get away from being King go after and leaving Sean open. Sean gun for the hoop. Dre toss the ball up and goddamn Sean dunk on King. What? Sean yell as he hang from the rim. He jump down and him and Dre do the handshake they've done since they were kids. They can't mess with us. Sean says, hell no. Dre says, I won't ever hear the end of this one. 30 years from now, Dre gonna be like, remember that time me and Sean didn't let y'all score. King slam the ball against the concrete. Shit. He take lose into heart for real. Hey chill. I say, we'll get him next. Y'all gotta be June. Sample complete. Ready to continue?