Eleanor & Park (19 page)

Because she couldn’t even be

around regular people without

freaking out.

It was just too much. Meeting

his pretty, perfect mom. Seeing his

normal, perfect house. Eleanor

hadn’t known there were houses

like

that

in

this

crappy

neighborhood – houses with wall-

to-wall carpeting and little baskets

of potpourri everywhere. She

didn’t know there were
families

like that. The only upside to living

in this effed-up neighborhood was

that everybody else was effed up,

too. The other kids might hate

Eleanor for being big and weird,

but they weren’t going to hate on

her for having a broken family

and a broke-down house. That

was kind of the rule around here.

Park’s family didn’t fit. They

were the Cleavers.
And
he’d told

her that his grandparents lived in

the house next door, which had

flower boxes, for Christ’s sake.

His family was practically the

Waltons.

Eleanor’s family had been

messed up even before Richie

came around and sent everything

straight to hell.

She would never belong in

Park’s living room. She never felt

like she belonged anywhere,

except for when she was lying on

her

bed,

pretending

to

be

somewhere else.

CHAPTER 22

Eleanor

When Eleanor got to their seat the

next morning, Park didn’t stand

up to let her in. He just scooted

over. It didn’t seem like he wanted

to look at her; he handed her some

comic books, then turned away.

Steve was being really loud.

Maybe he was always this loud.

When Park was holding her hand,

Eleanor couldn’t even hear herself

think
.

Everyone in the back of the

bus was singing the Nebraska

fight song. There was some big

game coming up this weekend,

against Oklahoma or Oregon or

something. Mr Stessman was

giving them extra credit all week

for wearing red. You wouldn’t

think Mr Stessman would be

prone to all this Husker crap, but it

seemed like nobody was immune.

Except Park.

Park was wearing a U2 shirt

today with a picture of a little boy

on the chest. Eleanor had been up

all night thinking about how he

was probably done with her, and

now she just wanted to put herself

out of her misery.

She pulled at the edge of his

sleeve.

‘Yeah?’ Park said softly.

‘Are you over me?’ she asked.

It didn’t come out like a joke.

Because it wasn’t.

He shook his head, but looked

out the window.

‘Are you mad at me?’ she

asked.

His

fingers

were

locked

loosely together in his lap, like he

was thinking about praying. ‘Sort

of.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

‘You don’t even know why

I’m mad.’

‘I’m still sorry.’

He looked at her then and

smiled a little.

‘Do you want to know?’ he

asked.

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it’s probably for

something I can’t help.’

‘Like what?’ he asked.

‘Like for being weird,’ she

said. ‘Or … for hyperventilating

in your living room.’

‘I feel like that was partly my

fault.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

‘Eleanor, stop,
listen
, I’m mad

because I feel like you decided to

leave my house as soon as you

walked in, maybe even before

that.’

‘I felt like I shouldn’t be

there,’ she said. She didn’t say it

loud enough to be heard over the

creeps in the back. (Seriously.

Their singing was even worse than

their shouting.) ‘I didn’t feel like

you wanted me there,’ she said, a

little louder.

The way Park looked at her

then, biting his bottom lip, she

knew she was at least a little bit

right.

She’d wanted to be all wrong.

She’d wanted him to tell her

that he
did
want her at his house,

that he wanted her to come back

and try again.

Park said something, but she

couldn’t hear him, because now

the kids in the back were chanting.

Steve was standing at the back of

the aisle, waving his gorilla arms

like a conductor.

Go. Big. Red
.

Go. Big. Red
.

Go. Big. Red
.

She looked around. Everyone

was saying it.

Go. Big. Red
.

Go. Big. Red
.

Eleanor’s fingertips went cold.

She looked around again, and

realized that they were all looking

at her.

Go. Big. Red
.

Realized that they meant it for

her.

Go. Big. Red
.

She looked at Park. He knew

it, too. He was staring straight

ahead. His fists were clenched

tight at his sides. He looked like

someone she’d never met.

‘It’s okay,’ she said.

He closed his eyes and shook

his head.

The bus was parking in front

of their school, and Eleanor

couldn’t wait to get off. She

forced herself to stay in her seat

until it stopped, and to calmly

walk forward. The chanting broke

up into laughter. Park was right

behind her, but he stopped as

soon as he was off the bus. He

threw his backpack on the ground

and took off his coat.

Eleanor stopped, too. ‘Hey,’

she said, ‘wait,
no
. What are you

doing?’

‘I’m ending this.’

‘No. Come on. It’s not worth

it.’

‘You are,’ he said fiercely,

looking at her. ‘
You’re
worth it.’

‘This isn’t for me,’ she said.

She wanted to pull at him, but she

didn’t feel like he was hers to hold

back. ‘I don’t want this.’

‘I’m

tired

of

them

embarrassing you.’

Steve was getting off the bus,

and Park clenched his fists again.

‘Embarrassing me?’ she said.

‘Or embarrassing you?’

He looked back at her,

stricken. And she knew again that

she was right. Damn it. Why did

he keep letting her be right about

all the crappy stuff?

‘If this is for me,’ she said, as

fiercely as she could, ‘then listen

to me. I don’t
want
this.’

He looked in her eyes. His eyes

were so green, they looked

yellow. He was breathing heavy,

and his face was dark red under

the gold.

‘Is it for me?’ she asked.

He nodded. He dug into her

with his eyes. He looked like he

was begging for something.

‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘
Please
.

Let’s go to class.’

He closed his eyes and,

eventually, nodded. She bent over

to get his coat, and heard Steve

say, ‘That’s right, Red. Show it

off.’

And then Park was gone.

When she turned to look, he

was already shoving Steve back

toward the bus. They looked like

David and Goliath, if David had

gotten close enough to let Goliath

kick his ass.

Kids were already yelling

‘fight!’ and running from every

direction. Eleanor ran, too.

She heard Park say, ‘I’m so

sick of your mouth.’

And she heard Steve say, ‘Are

you serious with this?’

He pushed Park hard, but Park

didn’t fall. Park took a few steps

back, then cranked his shoulder

forward, spinning into the air and

kicking Steve right in the mouth.

The whole crowd gasped.

Tina screamed.

Steve sprung forward almost

as soon as Park landed, swinging

his giant fists and clubbing Park in

the head.

Eleanor thought that she might

be watching him die.

She ran to get between them,

but Tina was already there. Then

one of the bus drivers was there.

And an assistant principal. All

pushing them apart.

Park was panting and hanging

his head.

Steve was holding his own

mouth. There was a waterfall of

blood on his chin. ‘Jesus Christ,

Park, what the fuck? I think you

knocked out my tooth.’

Park lifted his head. His whole

face was covered with blood. He

staggered

forward

and

the

assistant principal caught him.

‘
Leave … my girlfriend … alone
.’

‘I didn’t know she was really

your girlfriend,’ Steve shouted. A

bunch more blood spilled out of

his mouth.

‘Jesus, Steve. It shouldn’t

matter.’

‘It

matters,’

Steve

spat.

‘You’re my friend. I didn’t know

she was your girlfriend.’

Park put his hands on his

knees and shook his head,

splattering the sidewalk.

‘Well, she is.’

‘All right,’ Steve said. ‘Jesus.’

There were enough adults now

to herd the boys to the building.

Eleanor carried Park’s coat and his

backpack to her locker. She didn’t

know what to do with them.

She didn’t know what to do

with herself either. She didn’t

know how to feel.

Was she supposed to be happy

that Park had called her his

girlfriend? It’s not like he’d given

her any choice in the matter – and

it’s not like he’d said it happily.

He said it with his head down,

with his face dripping blood.

Should she be worried about

him? Could he still have brain

damage, even though he’d been

talking? Could he still stroke out,

or fall into a coma? Whenever

anyone in her family was fighting,

her mother would start shouting,

‘Not in the head, not in the head!’

Also, was it wrong to be so

worried about Park’s face?

Steve had the kind of face that

could take or leave teeth. A few

gaps in Steve’s smile would just

add to the big creepy goon look he

was rocking.

But Park’s face was like art.

And not weird, ugly art either.

Park had the sort of face you

painted because you didn’t want

history to forget it.

Was Eleanor supposed to be

mad at him still? Was she

supposed to be indignant? Was

she supposed to shout at him

when she saw him in English

class, ‘Was that for me? Or for

you?’

She hung his trench coat in her

locker, and leaned in to take a

deep breath. It smelled like Irish

Spring and a little bit like

potpourri and like something she

couldn’t describe anyway other

than
boy
.

Park wasn’t in English or history,

and he wasn’t on the bus after

school. Neither was Steve. Tina

walked by Eleanor’s seat with her

head in the air; Eleanor looked

away. Everybody else on the bus

was talking about the fight.

‘Fucking
Kung Fu
, fucking David

Carradine.’ And ‘Fuck David

Carradine

–

fucking

Chuck

Norris.’

Eleanor got off at Park’s stop.

Park

He was suspended for two days.

Steve was suspended for two

weeks because this was his third

fight of the year. Park felt kind of

bad about that – because Park was

the one who’d started the fight –

but then he thought about all the

other ridiculous crap Steve did

every day and never got busted

for.

Park’s mom was so mad, she

wouldn’t come get him. She called

his dad at work. When his dad

showed up, the principal thought

he was Steve’s dad.

‘Actually,’

his

dad

said,

pointing at Park, ‘that one’s mine.’

The school nurse said Park

didn’t have to go the hospital, but

he looked pretty bad. He had a

black eye and probably a broken

nose.

Steve did have to go the

hospital. His tooth was loose, and