Eleanor & Park (38 page)

Eleanor couldn’t think of a place

safe enough for Park’s photo, so

she zipped it into the pocket of her

school bag. After she’d looked at

it again and again and again.

CHAPTER 44

Eleanor

Wednesday night wasn’t the

worst.

Park had taekwando, but

Eleanor still had Park, the memory

of him, everywhere. (Everywhere

he’d touched her felt untouchable.

Everywhere he’d touched her felt

safe.) Richie had to work late that

night, so her mom made Totino’s

Party Pizzas for dinner. They must

have been on sale at Food 4 Less,

because the freezer was stuffed

with them.

They

watched
Highway to

Heaven
while they ate. Then

Eleanor sat with Maisie on the

living room floor, and they tried

to teach Mouse ‘Down Down

Baby.’

It was hopeless. He could

either remember the words or the

clapping, but never both at once.

It drove Maisie crazy. ‘Start

again,’ she kept saying.

‘Come help us, Ben,’ Eleanor

said, ‘it’s easier with four.’

Down, down, baby, down by

the roller coaster
.

Sweet, sweet, baby, I’ll never

let you go
.

Shimmy, shimmy, cocoa puff,

shimmy
. . .

‘Oh my God, Mouse. Right hand

first –
right
first. Okay. Start again

…’

Down, down, baby
. . .

‘Mouse!’

CHAPTER 45

Park

‘I don’t feel like cooking dinner,’

his mom said.

It was just the three of them,

Park, his mom and Eleanor, sitting

on the couch, watching
Wheel of

Fortune
. His dad had gone turkey

hunting and wouldn’t be home

until late, and Josh was staying

over at a friend’s.

‘I could heat up a pizza,’ Park

said.

‘Or we could go get pizza,’ his

mom said.

Park looked at Eleanor; he

didn’t know what the rules were,

as far as going out. Her eyes got

big, and she shrugged.

‘Yeah,’ Park said, grinning,

‘let’s go get pizza.’

‘I feel too lazy,’ his mom said.

‘You and Eleanor go get pizza.’

‘You want me to drive?’

‘Sure,’ his mom said. ‘You too

scared?’

Jeez, now his mom was calling

him a pussy.

‘No, I can drive. Do you want

Pizza Hut? Should we call it in

first?’

‘You go where you want,’ his

mom said. ‘I’m not even very

hungry. You go. Eat dinner. See

movie or something.’

He and Eleanor both stared at

her.

‘Are you sure?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, go,’ she said, ‘I never

get house to myself.’

She was home all day, every

day by herself, but Park decided

not to mention it. He and Eleanor

stood up cautiously from the

couch. Like they were expecting

his mom to say ‘April fools!’ two

weeks late.

‘Keys on hook,’ she said.

‘Hand me my purse.’ She gave

him twenty dollars from her

wallet, and then ten more.

‘Thanks …’ Park said, still

hesitant. ‘I guess we’ll go now?’

‘Not yet …’ His mom looked

at Eleanor’s clothes and frowned.

‘Eleanor can’t go out like that.’ If

they wore the same size, she’d be

forcing

Eleanor

into

a

stonewashed miniskirt about now.

‘But I’ve looked like this all

day,’ Eleanor said. She was

wearing army surplus pants and a

short-sleeved men’s shirt over

some kind of long-sleeved purple

T-shirt. Park thought she looked

cool. (He actually thought she

looked adorable, but that word

would make Eleanor gag.) ‘Just let

me fix your hair,’ his mom said.

She pulled Eleanor into the

bathroom and started pulling

bobby pins out of her hair.

‘Down, down, down,’ she said.

Park

leaned

against

the

doorway and watched.

‘It’s

weird

that

you’re

watching this,’ Eleanor said.

‘It’s nothing I haven’t seen

before,’ he said.

‘Park probably help me do

your hair on wedding day,’ his

mom said.

He and Eleanor both looked at

the floor. ‘I’ll wait for you in the

living room,’ he said.

In a few minutes, she was

ready. Her hair looked perfect,

every curl shiny and on purpose,

and her lips were a glossy pink.

He could tell from here that she’d

taste like strawberries.

‘Okay,’ his mom said, ‘go.

Have fun.’

They walked out to the

Impala, and Park opened the door

for Eleanor. ‘I can open my own

door,’ she said. And by the time

he got to his side, she’d leaned

over the seat and pushed his door

open.

‘Where should we go?’ he

asked.

‘I don’t know,’ she said,

sinking down in her seat. ‘Can we

just get out of the neighborhood? I

feel like I’m sneaking across the

Berlin Wall.’

‘Oh,’ he said, ‘yeah.’ He

started the car and looked over at

her. ‘Get down more. Your hair

glows in the dark.’

‘Thanks.’

‘You know what I mean.’

He started driving west. There

was nothing east of the Flats but

the river.

‘Don’t drive by the Rail,’ she

said.

‘The what?’

‘Turn right here.’

‘Okay …’

He looked down at her – she

was crouching on the floor – and

laughed.

‘It’s not funny.’

‘It’s kind of funny,’ he said.

‘You’re on the floor, and I’m only

getting to drive because my dad’s

out of town.’

‘Your dad wants you to drive.

All you have to do is learn how to

drive a stick.’

‘I already know how to drive a

stick.’

‘Then what’s the problem?’

‘The problem is me,’ he said,

feeling irritated. ‘Hey, we’re out of

the neighborhood, can you sit up

now?’

‘I’ll sit up when we get to

Twenty-fourth Street.’

She sat up at 24th Street, but

they didn’t talk again until 42nd.

‘Where are we going?’ she

asked.

‘I don’t know,’ he said. He

really didn’t. He knew how to get

to school and how to get

downtown, and that was it.

‘Where do you want to go?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said.

Eleanor

She wanted to go to Inspiration

Point. Which, as far as she knew,

only existed on
Happy Days
.

And she didn’t want to say to

Park, ‘Hey, where do you kids go

when you want to fog up the

windows?’ Because, what would

he think of her? And what if he

had an answer?

Eleanor was trying really hard

not be overawed by Park’s driving

skills, but every time he changed

lanes or checked the rearview

mirror,

she

caught

herself

swooning. He might as well be

lighting a cigarette or ordering a

Scotch on the rocks, it made him

seem so much older …

Eleanor

didn’t

have

her

learner’s permit. Her mom wasn’t

even allowed to drive, so getting

Eleanor’s license wasn’t a priority.

‘Do

we

have

to

go

somewhere?’ she asked.

‘Well,

we

have

to

go

some
where …’ Park said.

‘But do we have to do

something?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Can’t we just go somewhere

and be together? Where do people

go to be together? I don’t even

care if we get out of the car …’

He looked over at her, then

looked back, nervously, at the

road. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Yeah.

Yeah, just let me …’

He pulled into a parking lot

and turned around.

‘We’ll go downtown.’

Park

They did get out of the car. Once

they

were

downtown,

Park

wanted to show Eleanor Drastic

Plastic and the Antiquarium and

all the other record stores. She’d

never even been to the Old

Market, which was practically the

only place
to
go in Omaha.

There were a bunch of other

kids hanging out downtown, a lot

of them looking much weirder

than Eleanor. Park took her to his

favorite pizza place. And then his

favorite ice cream place. And his

third favorite comic book shop.

He kept pretending that they

were on a real date, and then he’d

remember that they were.

Eleanor

Park held her hand the whole

night, like he was her boyfriend.

Because he is your boyfriend,

dummy, she kept telling herself.

Much
to the dismay of the girl

working at the record store. She

had eight holes in each ear, and

she clearly thought Park was a

whole closet full of cat’s pajamas.

The girl looked at Eleanor like,

are you kidding me?
And Eleanor

looked back like,
I know, right?

They walked down every

street of the Market area, and then

across the street, into a park.

Eleanor didn’t even know all this

existed.

She

hadn’t

realized

Omaha could be such a nice place

to live. (In her head, this was

Park’s doing, too. The world

rebuilt itself into a better place

around him.)

Park

They ended up at Central Park.

Omaha’s version. Eleanor had

never been here before either, and

even though it was wet and

muddy and still kind of cold, she

kept saying how nice it was.

‘Oh, look,’ she said. ‘Swans.’

‘I think those are geese,’ he

said.

‘Well, they’re the best-looking

geese I’ve ever seen.’

They sat on one of the park

benches and watched the geese

settle in on the bank of the

manmade lake. Park put his arm

around Eleanor and felt her lean

against him.

‘Let’s keep doing this,’ he

said.

‘What?’

‘Going out.’

‘Okay,’ she said. She didn’t

say anything about him learning

how

to

drive

a

manual

transmission.

Which

he

appreciated.

‘We should go to prom,’ he

said.

‘What?’ She lifted up her

head.

‘Prom. You know, prom.’

‘I know what it is, but why

would we go there?’

Because he wanted to see

Eleanor in a pretty dress. Because

he wanted to help his mom do her

hair.

‘Because it’s prom,’ he said.

‘And it’s lame,’ she said.

‘How do you know?’

‘Because the theme is “I Want

to Know What Love Is.”

‘That’s not such a bad song,’

he said.

‘Are

you

drunk,

it’s

Foreigner.’

Park shrugged and pulled one

of her curls straight. ‘I know that

prom is lame,’ he said. ‘But it’s

not something you can go back

and do. You only get one chance.’

‘Actually,

you

get

three

chances …’

‘Okay, will you go to prom

with me next year?’

She started laughing. ‘Yeah,’

she said, ‘sure. We can go next

year. That will give my mouse and

bird friends plenty of time to

make me a dress. Totally. Yes.

Let’s go to prom.’

‘You think it’s never going to

happen,’ he said. ‘You’ll see. I’m

not going anywhere.’

‘Not until you learn how to

drive a stick.’

She was relentless.

Eleanor

Prom. Right. That was going to

happen.

The amount of chicanery it

would take to slip prom past her

mother … it boggled the mind.

Though now that Park had

suggested it, Eleanor could almost

see it working. She could tell her

mom that she was going to prom

with Tina. (Good old Tina.) And

she could get ready at Park’s