Eleanor & Park (22 page)

realized she’d used up all her

adrenaline knocking.

‘Hi,’ she said weakly.

He looked mean and mad as

spit. Gil could dirty-look Tina

right under the table, and then

he’d probably kick her.

‘Can I use your phone?’ she

asked. ‘I need to call the police.’

‘What?’ Gil barked. His hair

was oiled down, and he even

wore suspenders with his pajamas.

‘I need to call 911,’ she said.

She sounded like she was trying to

borrow a cup of sugar. ‘Or maybe

you could call 911 for me? There

are men in my house with …

guns. Please.’

Gil didn’t seem impressed, but

he let her in. His house was really

nice inside. She wondered if he

used to have a wife – or if he just

really liked ruffles. The phone

was in the kitchen. ‘I think there

are men in my house,’ Eleanor

told the 911 operator. ‘I heard

gunshots.’

Gil didn’t tell her to leave, so

she waited for the police in his

kitchen. He had a whole pan of

brownies on the counter, but he

didn’t

offer

her

any.

His

refrigerator was covered with

magnets shaped like states, and he

had an egg timer that looked like a

chicken. He sat at the kitchen table

and lit a cigarette. He didn’t offer

her one of those either.

When the police pulled up,

Eleanor walked out of the house,

feeling silly suddenly about her

bare feet. Gil shut the door behind

her.

The cops didn’t get out of their

car. ‘You called 911?’ one of them

asked.

‘I think there’s somebody in

my house,’ she said shakily. ‘I

heard

people

yelling

and

gunshots.’

‘All right,’ he said. ‘Hang on a

minute, and we’ll go in with you.’

With
me, Eleanor thought. She

wasn’t going back in there at all.

What was she going to say to the

Hells Angels in her living room?

The police officers – two big

guys in tall black boots – parked

and followed her up onto the

porch.

‘Go ahead,’ one said, ‘open

the door.’

‘I can’t. It’s locked.’

‘How’d you get out?’

‘The window.’

‘Then go back through the

window.’

The next time Eleanor called

911, she was going to request cops

who wouldn’t send her alone into

an occupied building. Did firemen

do this, too?
Hey, kid, you go in

first and unlock the door
.

She climbed in the window,

climbed

over

Maisie

(still

sleeping), ran into the living room,

opened the front door, then ran

back to her room and sat on the

bottom bunk.

‘This is the police,’ she heard.

Then she heard Richie cussing,

‘What the fuck?’

Her mom: ‘What’s going on?’

‘
This is the police
.’

Her brothers and sisters were

waking up and crawling to each

other frantically. Someone stepped

on the baby and he started to cry.

Eleanor

heard

the

police

tramping through the house. She

heard

Richie

shouting.

The

bedroom door flew open, and

their mom came in like Mr

Rochester’s wife, in a long, torn,

white nightgown.

‘Did you call them?’ she asked

Eleanor.

Eleanor nodded. ‘I heard

gunshots,’ she said.

‘Shhhh,’ her mother said,

rushing to the bed and pressing

her hand too hard over Eleanor’s

mouth. ‘Don’t say anything more,’

she hissed. ‘If they ask, say it was

a mistake. This was all a mistake.’

The door opened, and her

mother moved her hand away.

Two flashlights shot around the

room. Her siblings were all awake

and crying. Their eyes flashed like

cats’.

‘They’re just scared,’ her

mother said. ‘They don’t know

what’s happening.’

‘There’s nobody here,’ the cop

said to Eleanor, shining his light in

her direction. ‘We checked the

yard and the basement.’

It was more of an accusation

than an assurance.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I

thought I heard something …’

The lights went out, and

Eleanor heard all three men

talking in the living room. She

heard the police officers on the

porch, with their heavy boots, and

she heard them drive away. The

window was still open.

Richie came into the room

then – he never came into their

room. Eleanor felt a new flood of

adrenaline.

‘What were you thinking?’ he

asked softly.

She didn’t say anything. Her

mother held her hand, and Eleanor

locked her jaw shut.

‘Richie, she didn’t know,’ her

mom said. ‘She just heard the

gun.’

‘What the fuck,’ he said,

slamming his fist into the door.

The veneer splintered.

‘She

thought

she

was

protecting us, it was a mistake.’

‘Are you trying to get rid of

me?’ he shouted. ‘Did you think

you could get rid of me?’

Eleanor hid her face in her

mother’s shoulder. It wasn’t a

protection. It was like hiding

behind the thing in the room he

was most likely to hit.

‘It was a mistake,’ her mother

said gently. ‘She was trying to

help.’

‘You never call them here,’ he

said to Eleanor, his voice dying,

his eyes wild. ‘Never again.’

And then, shouting, ‘I can get

rid of all of you.’ He slammed the

door behind him.

‘Back to bed,’ her mother said.

‘Everybody …’

‘But,

Mom

…’

Eleanor

whispered.

‘In bed,’ her mom said,

helping Eleanor up the ladder to

her bunk. Then her mom leaned

in close, her mouth touching

Eleanor’s ear. ‘It was Richie,’ she

whispered. ‘There were kids

playing basketball in the park,

being loud … He was just trying

to scare them. But he doesn’t have

a license, and there are other

things in the house – he could

have been arrested. No more

tonight. Not a breath.’

She knelt down with the boys

for a minute, petting and hushing,

then floated out of the room.

Eleanor could swear she heard

five hearts racing. Every one of

them was stifling a sob. Crying

inside out. She climbed out of her

bed and into Maisie’s.

‘It’s okay,’ she whispered to

the room. ‘It’s okay now.’

CHAPTER 25

Park

Eleanor seemed off that morning.

She didn’t say anything while they

waited for the bus. When they got

on, she dropped onto their seat

and leaned against the wall.

Park pulled on her sleeve, and

she not-even-half smiled.

‘Okay?’ he asked.

She glanced up at him. ‘Now,’

she said.

He didn’t believe her. He

pulled on her sleeve again.

She fell against him and hid

her face in his shoulder.

Park laid his face in her hair

and closed his eyes.

‘Okay?’ he asked.

‘Almost,’ she said.

She pulled away when the bus

stopped. She never let him hold

her hand once they were off the

bus. She wouldn’t touch him in

the hallways. ‘People will look at

us,’ she always said.

He couldn’t believe that still

mattered to her. Girls who don’t

want to be looked at don’t tie

curtain tassels in their hair. They

don’t wear men’s golf shoes with

the spikes still attached.

So today he stood by her

locker and only thought about

touching her. He wanted to tell her

his news – but she seemed so far

away, he wasn’t sure she’d hear

him.

Eleanor

Where would she go this time?

Back to the Hickmans’?

‘Hey, remember that time

when my mom asked if I could

stay with you guys for a few days,

and then she didn’t come back for

a year? I really appreciate the fact

that you didn’t turn me into Child

Protective Services. That was very

Christian of you. Do you still have

that foldout couch?’

Fuck.

Before Richie moved in,

Eleanor only knew that word from

books

and

bathroom

walls.

Fucking woman. Fucking kids.

Fuck you, you little bitch – who

the fuck touched my stereo?

Eleanor hadn’t seen it coming

the last time. When Richie kicked

her out.

She couldn’t have seen it

coming because she never thought

it could happen. She never

thought he’d try – and she never,

ever
thought her mom would go

along with it. (Richie must have

recognized before Eleanor did that

her mother’s allegiances had

shifted.) It was embarrassing to

think about the day that it

happened – embarrassing, on top

of everything else – because it

really was Eleanor’s fault. She

really was asking for it.

She was in her room, typing

song lyrics on an old manual

typewriter that her mom had

brought home from the Goodwill.

It needed new ribbon (Eleanor

had a box full of cartridges that

didn’t fit), but it still worked. She

loved

everything

about

that

typewriter, the way the keys felt,

the sticky, crunchy noise they

made. She even liked the way it

smelled, like metal and shoe

polish.

She was bored that day, the

day it happened.

It was too hot to do anything

but lie around or read or watch

TV. Richie was in the living room.

He hadn’t gotten out of bed until

2:00 or 3:00, and everybody could

tell he was in a bad mood. Her

mom was walking around the

house in nervous circles, offering

Richie lemonade and sandwiches

and aspirin. Eleanor hated it when

her

mom

acted

like

that.

Relentlessly submissive. It was

humiliating to be in the same

room.

So Eleanor was upstairs typing

song lyrics. ‘Scarborough Fair.’

She heard Richie complaining.

‘What the fuck is that noise?’

And, ‘Fuck, Sabrina, can’t you

shut her up?’

Her mom tiptoed up the stairs

and

ducked

her

head

into

Eleanor’s room. ‘Richie isn’t

feeling well,’ she said. ‘Can you

put that away?’ She looked pale

and nervous. Eleanor hated that

look.

She waited for her mother to

get

back

downstairs.

Then,

without really thinking about why,

Eleanor deliberately pressed a key.

A

Crunch-lap
.

Her fingertips trembled over

the keyboard.

RE

Crch-crch-lap-tap
.

Nothing happened. No one

stirred. The house was hot and

stiff and as quiet as a library in

hell. Eleanor closed her eyes and

jerked her chin into the air.

YOU

GOING

TO

SCRABOROUGH

FAIR

PARSLEY

SAAGE

ROSEMAYRY AND THYME

Richie came up the stairs so

fast, in Eleanor’s head he was

flying. In Eleanor’s head, he burst

open the door by hurling a ball of

fire at it.

He was on her before she

could brace herself, tearing the

typewriter from her hands and

throwing it into the wall so hard it

broke through the plaster and

hung for a moment in the lath.

Eleanor was too shocked to

make out what he was shouting at

her. FAT and FUCK and BITCH.

He’d never come this close to

her before. Her fear of him

crushed her back. She didn’t want

him to see it in her eyes, so she

pressed her face into her hands in

her pillow.

FAT and FUCK and BITCH.

And

I

WARNED

YOU,

SABRINA.

‘I

hate

you,’