Eleanor & Park (26 page)

think of how to stop her.

‘I don’t know who’s been

writing on my books,’ she said

coolly. ‘But I think we just solved

the mystery of why Tina hates me

so much.’

‘Eleanor …’

‘No,’ she said, her voice

catching. ‘I don’t want to talk

anymore.’

She walked out of the kitchen,

just as Park’s mom was coming in

from garage. His mom looked at

Park with a face he was beginning

to recognize.
What do you see in

this weird white girl?

Park

That night, Park lay in bed

thinking about Eleanor thinking

about him, writing his name on

her book.

She’d

probably

already

scribbled that out, too.

He tried to think about why

he’d defended Tina.

Why did it matter to him

whether Tina was good or bad?

Eleanor was right, he and Tina

weren’t friends. They weren’t

anything like friends. They hadn’t

even been friends in the sixth

grade.

Tina had asked Park to go

with her, and Park had said yes –

because everybody knew that Tina

was the most popular girl in class.

Going with Tina was such

powerful social currency, Park

was still spending it.

Being Tina’s first boyfriend

kept Park out of the lowest

neighborhood caste. Even though

they all thought Park was weird

and yellow, even though he had

never fit in … They couldn’t call

him a freak or a chink or a fag

because – well
first
, because his

dad was a giant and a veteran and

from the neighborhood. But

second, because what would that

say about Tina?

And Tina had never turned on

Park or pretended he didn’t

happen. In fact … Well. There

were times when he thought she

wanted something to happen

between them again.

Like, a few times, she’d come

over to Park’s house on the wrong

day for her hair appointment –

and ended up in Park’s room,

trying to find something for them

to talk about.

On homecoming night, when

she came over to have her hair put

up, she’d stopped in Park’s room

to ask what he thought of her

strapless blue dress. She’d had

him untangle her necklace from

the hair at the back of her neck.

Park

always

let

these

opportunities pass like he didn’t

see them.

Steve would kill him if he

hooked up with Tina.

Plus, Park didn’t want to hook

up with Tina. They didn’t have

anything in common – like,

nothing
– and it wasn’t the kind

of nothing that can be exotic and

exciting. It was just boring.

He didn’t even think Tina

really liked him, deep down. It

was more like she didn’t want him

to get over her. And not-so-deep

down, Park didn’t want Tina to

get over him.

It was nice to have the most

popular girl in the neighborhood

offering herself to him every now

and then.

Park rolled onto his stomach

and pushed his face into his

pillow. He’d thought he was over

caring what people thought about

him. He’d thought that loving

Eleanor proved that.

But he kept finding new

pockets of shallow inside himself.

He kept finding new ways to

betray her.

CHAPTER 31

Eleanor

There was just one more day of

school left before Christmas

vacation. Eleanor didn’t go. She

told her mother she was sick.

Park

When he got to the bus stop

Friday morning, Park was ready to

apologize. But Eleanor didn’t

show up. Which made him feel a

lot less like apologizing …

‘What now?’ he said in the

direction of her house. Were they

supposed to break up over this?

Was she going to go three weeks

without talking to him?

He knew it wasn’t Eleanor’s

fault that she didn’t have a phone,

and that her house was the

Fortress of Solitude, but … Jesus.

It made it so easy for her to cut

herself off whenever she felt like

it.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said at her

house, too loudly. A dog started

barking in the yard next to him.

‘Sorry,’ Park muttered to the dog.

The bus turned the corner and

heaved to a stop. Park could see

Tina

in

the

back

window,

watching him.

I’m sorry
, he thought, not

looking back again.

Eleanor

With Richie at work all day, she

didn’t have to stay in her room,

but she did anyway. Like a dog

who won’t leave its kennel.

She ran out of batteries. She

ran out of things to read …

She lay in bed so much, she

actually felt dizzy when she got up

Sunday afternoon to eat dinner.

(Her mom said Eleanor had to

come out of her crypt if she was

hungry.) Eleanor sat on the living

room floor next to Mouse.

‘Why are you crying?’ he

asked. He was holding a bean

burrito and it was dripping onto

his T-shirt and the floor.

‘I’m not,’ she said.

Mouse held the burrito over

his head and tried to catch the leak

with his mouth. ‘Yeh oo are.’

Maisie looked up at Eleanor,

then back at the TV.

‘Is it because you hate Dad?’

Mouse asked.

‘Yes,’ Eleanor said.

‘
Eleanor
,’ her mother said,

walking out of the kitchen.

‘No,’ Eleanor said to Mouse,

shaking her head. ‘I told you, I’m

not crying.’ She went back to her

room and climbed into bed,

rubbing her face in the pillow.

Nobody followed her to see

what was wrong.

Maybe her mom realized that

she’d pretty much forfeited the

right to ask questions for all

eternity when she dumped Eleanor

at somebody’s house for a year.

Or maybe just she didn’t care.

Eleanor rolled onto her back

and picked up her dead Walkman.

She took out the tape and held it

up to the light, turning the reels

with her fingertip and looking at

Park’s handwriting on the label.

‘Never mind the Sex Pistols …

Songs Eleanor might like.’

Park thought she’d written

those awful things on her books

herself.

And he’d taken Tina’s side

against hers.
Tina
’s.

She closed her eyes again and

remembered the first time that he

kissed her … How she’d let her

neck bend back, how she’d

opened her mouth. How she’d

believed him when he said she

was special.

Park

A week into break, his dad asked

Park if he and Eleanor had broken

up.

‘Sort of,’ Park said.

‘That’s too bad,’ his dad said.

‘It is?’

‘Well, it must be. You’re

acting like a four-year-old lost at

Kmart …

Park sighed.

‘Can’t you get her back?’ his

dad asked

‘I can’t even get her to talk to

me.’

‘It’s too bad you can’t talk to

your mother about this. The only

way I know how to land a girl is

to look sharp in a uniform.’

Eleanor

A week into break, Eleanor’s

mom woke her up before sunrise.

‘Do you want to walk to the store

with me?’

‘No,’ Eleanor said.

‘Come on, I could use the

extra hands.’

Her mom walked fast, and she

had long legs. Eleanor had to take

extra steps just to keep up. ‘It’s

cold,’ she said.

‘I told you to wear a hat.’ Her

mom had told her to wear socks,

too, but they looked ridiculous

with Eleanor’s Vans.

It was a forty-minute walk.

When they got to the grocery

store, her mom bought them each

a day-old cream horn and a cup of

twenty-five-cent coffee. Eleanor

dumped Coffee-Mate and Sweet’N

Low in hers, and followed her

mom to the bargain bin. Her mom

had this thing about being the first

person to go through all the

smashed cereal boxes and dented

cans …

Afterward, they walked to the

Goodwill, and Eleanor found a

stack of old
Analog
magazines

and settled in on the least

disgusting couch in the furniture

section.

When it was time to go, her

mom came up from behind her

with an incredibly ugly stocking

cap and pulled it over her head.

‘Great,’ Eleanor said, ‘now I

have lice.’

She felt better on the way

home. (Which was probably the

point of this whole field trip.) It

was still cold, but the sun was

shining, and her mom was

humming that Joni Mitchell song

about clouds and circuses.

Eleanor

almost

told

her

everything.

About Park and Tina and the

bus and the fight, about the place

between his grandparents’ house

and the RV.

She felt it all right at the back

of her throat, like a bomb – or a

tiger – sitting on the base of her

tongue. Keeping it in made her

eyes water.

The plastic shopping bags

were cutting into her palms.

Eleanor shook her head and

swallowed.

Park

Park rode his bike by her house

over and over one day until her

stepdad’s truck was gone and one

of the other kids came outside to

play in the snow.

It was the older boy, Park

couldn’t remember his name. The

kid scuttled up the steps nervously

when Park stopped in front of the

house.

‘Hey, wait,’ Park said, ‘please,

hey
… is your sister home?’

‘Maisie?’

‘No, Eleanor …’

‘I’m not telling you,’ the boy

said, running into the house.

Park jerked his bike forward

and pedaled away.

CHAPTER 32

Eleanor

The box of pineapple arrived on

Christmas

Eve.

You’d

have

thought Santa Claus had shown

up in person with a bag of toys for

each of them.

Maisie and Ben were already

fighting over the box. Maisie

wanted it for her Barbies. Ben

didn’t have anything to put in it,

but Eleanor still hoped he’d win.

Ben had just turned twelve,

and Richie said he was too old to

share a room with girls and

babies. Richie had brought home a

mattress and put it in the

basement, and now Ben had to

sleep down there with the dog and

Richie’s free weights.

In their old house, Ben

wouldn’t even go down to the

basement to put clothes in the

wash – and that basement had at

least been dry and mostly finished.

Ben was scared of mice and bats

and spiders and anything that

started moving when the lights

went out. Richie had already

yelled at him, twice, for trying to

sleep at the top of the stairs.

The pineapple came with a

letter from their uncle and his

wife. Eleanor’s mom read it first,

and it made her get all teary. ‘Oh,

Eleanor,’

she

said

excitedly,

‘Geoff wants you to come up for

the summer. He says there’s a

program at his university, a camp

for gifted high school students …’

Before Eleanor could even

think about what that meant – St

Paul, a camp where nobody knew

her, where nobody was Park –

Richie was shooting it down.

‘You can’t send her up to

Minnesota by herself.’

‘My brother’s there.’

‘What does he know about

teenage girls?’

‘You know I lived with him in

high school.’

‘Yeah, and he let you get

pregnant …’

Ben was lying solidly on top

of the pineapple box, and Maisie

was kicking him in the back. They

were both shouting.

‘It’s just a fucking box,’ Richie