Eleanor (4 page)

CHAPTER SIX

“Y
our house is neat and clean,” said Stephanie Pearce in her soothing and condescending manner. She sat on the sofa in the Anders' little house because she might not fit in a chair. She was in her late twenties of indeterminate European descent. Her rosacea was pronounced, made worse by her constant sweating. She was of middle height and upper weight. Eleanor figured her for two-seventy without her eyeliner. She was the town's only full-time social worker and she was overworked, underpaid, and dangerous.

Eleanor had spent two days dusting and vacuuming, cleaning every corner, lamp shade, and drawer in anticipation of her inspection. Stephanie Pearce was not subtle about her check-ups. She'd draw her finger across a window sill and slide open silverware drawers without as much as a “May I?” Eleanor usually kept the house clean, but on scheduled visits, she made double sure not to give the social worker anything to use against them.

Tabitha had cleaned up for the appointment. She'd put on her wig and a clean dress. She used makeup to conceal the shallows of her cheeks, shadows under her eyes, and pallor of her skin. Before Pearce arrived, she'd walked through a mist of perfume and sucked on a dollop of toothpaste. Eleanor had helped Tabitha with her nails the night before, but she had chipped one this morning opening a pill bottle and now kept her hands together to hide it.

Naturally, Eleanor dressed up as well. She had only four sets of clothes that fit her larger body. She'd carefully chosen them from among the racks of secondhand clothes in a Nebraska Goodwill. She could arrange the shirts and pants and single dress into a variety of looks that all said, “Please don't look at me. I'm uninteresting.” She'd wanted to buy more clothes in Jamesford, but she was deathly afraid to pick something that one of her classmates might have cast off and have it recognized. In a week or two, her mother would go down to the clinic in Riverton. Eleanor would look for clothes there.

These quarterly meetings with the social worker were routine, but each had been more threatening than the last. Stephanie Pearce was the eyes and ears of some bureaucratic machine Eleanor didn't understand. It sent them money and arranged for services like the van to Riverton and the expensive but failed medical care Tabitha had already undergone. These things (Eleanor knew because Stephanie Pearce had told her time and time again) could be stopped, and the beneficent force that had let them get by happily in poverty could also force Tabitha into a care center and Eleanor into a foster home.

“A clean house is a good indicator of how you're getting on,” Pearce said. “Of course, you had notice that I was coming. I might drop by unannounced some time just to make sure things are as they seem.”

“We're getting by,” said Tabitha. “Eleanor had a vacation, and she came back a new girl.”

Eleanor smiled politely.

“She did spring up didn't she,” Pearce said, eyeing Eleanor critically. Eleanor was careful to remain seated for this visit, as she had the previous one before her trip.

“How did you get on while Eleanor was away?” asked the social worker.

“Oh, I did just fine,” said Tabitha easily. “It was actually kind of nice to have a little time alone. Eleanor is always fussing. I didn't throw any parties or anything, but it was nice to have some quiet. Teenagers, you know.”

“Did you do the shopping? Go out?”

“I don't remember,” Tabitha lied. “Eleanor left me stocked up. I don't think I had to leave the property.”

Pearce made an ominous note in her file.

“No, wait. I did run out of cream for my coffee. I walked down to the 7-Eleven and got myself a chocolate donut and a quart of half-and-half.”

“How was that walk?”

“It was a beautiful day,” she said. Stephanie raised an eyebrow when Tabitha ducked the question.

“I took my time,” she said as if confessing. “When the heat got bad or the dust too thick, I sat down under a tree and watched the clouds for a minute. It was delightful, but not something I'd do every morning.”

The admission of physical limitations satisfied the social worker. How she didn't know it was a lie was beyond Eleanor.

“And how are you doing in school, Eleanor?” Stephanie asked, marking a check-list in her file.

“Fine. I'm getting B's.”

“No C's? No F's?”

“Heavens no,” said Tabitha. “I'd skin her bottom if she did so poorly.”

“Any A's?”

“It's the start of school,” Eleanor explained quietly. “We've only had a few assignments.”

“And your citizenship grades?”

Citizenship grade meant behavior. It was a patriotic label that teachers used to grade students' attitudes and flattery skills.

“No problems,” she said.

“I understand you had a quarrel with Mrs. Hart, your history teacher.”

“Who told you about that?” asked Tabitha.

“I speak with all the teachers at the school. It's my job,” she sighed. All this talking made her short of breath.

“No. It wasn't a quarrel. I just voiced my opinion and brought up some facts.”

“Well, she said you might have authority issues.”

Eleanor stared at the floor.

“She wasn't disciplined at the time,” said Tabitha. “It couldn't have been that big of a deal.”

“Probably not, but it was out of character, and Mrs. Hart brought it to my attention.” She paused to catch her breath. “I'm just trying to be thorough.”

“We understand.”

She glanced at her watch. “Well, I've got to head up the canyon,” she said. “This was a nice visit. I'll see you next month.”

“Next month?” asked Tabitha.

“Yes, I think we should have more frequent visits. Eleanor's behavior could be a symptom of other issues.”

“It was one time,” Eleanor objected.

“We like the visits,” Tabitha said, casting a silencing glance at Eleanor. “We'll see you next month.”

She struggled off the couch and presented her hand to Tabitha, who, to Eleanor's relief, shook it instead of kissing the ring on it.

When Stephanie Pearce was outside squeezing herself into her white and rust Volkswagen beetle, Eleanor stood up and went to her mother.

“What if she'd noticed we don't have coffee?” she asked.

“I'd have said we ran out. Or I gave it up because it was making me jittery.”

Eleanor knelt down and put her head on her mother's lap. “I'm sorry I had to leave you.”

“Nonsense,” she said caressing her hair. “I was fine. You think too much of yourself,” she teased. “Cupcake, I was fine. You had to go. Let's not be careless now. Maybe you should go more often.”

“We'll see,” she said. She stayed on her lap for long moment, breathing in perfume and clean clothes.

“I'll make dinner,” she said and got up for the kitchen. “Chili?”

“I'm game if you are,” Tabitha said. “I don't have your sensitive nose.”

“And tomatoes,” Eleanor said.

“Yes, and tomatoes.” Tabitha smiled.

On the last Monday of October, Mr. Graham asked David to stay after class. Like usual, Eleanor had remained in her seat until the classroom emptied. Mr. Graham began talking while she was still there, unnoticed or ignored. She shrunk back, waited, and listened.

“Mr. Venn,” the chemistry teacher said. “You're doing alright in math, but your chemistry score is below par.”

“I'll work on it, Mr. Graham,” said David. “I'm getting the hang of it.”

“No you're not. Each test score has been worse than the previous one.”

David said nothing to this.

“Mr. Venn,” he said. “You are failing this course.”

David remained mute, but didn't take his eyes off the teacher.

“Chemistry is required for graduation,” the teacher went on. “You will not graduate high school without a passing grade here. You will be required to re-take the course in summer school if you fail to pass.”

“I didn't know Jamesford had summer school,” David said.

“We don't. You'll have to bus to Riverton.”

David snorted.

“Further, Mr. Venn, I have to report this to Principal Curtz. You'll be ineligible to compete in the rodeo next month if you're still failing.”

David's mouth made to protest, but nothing came out. His shoulders sagged.

“I'll try harder,” he finally said. The despondency in his voice was too much for Eleanor.

“I can tutor him,” she heard herself say.

The two turned around suddenly, obviously thinking they were alone.

“Is that you, Miss Anders? What did you say?”

“I said I can tutor David. I'm good at chemistry.”

David looked at her guardedly. She couldn't read him.

“I don't care what help you get, Mr. Venn, but you definitely need some. I am unavailable for private tutoring. Miss Anders wouldn't be my first choice for a tutor, but if she—”

“Okay,” David said. “Yes, if she's serious. I'll have Eleanor help me.”

“The next test is on Friday,” he said. “If you don't get at least a B- on that, there'll be no statistical way for you to raise your grade above failing before the rodeo. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” said David, but he was looking at Eleanor. The slightest smile lifted the corner of his mouth and Eleanor blushed.

David waited for Eleanor in the hall and walked with her to the gym.

“Will you really help me with chemistry?” he said as the bell rang, making them both late to P. E.

“I said I would,” she said. “Does that surprise you?”

“I thought you were mad at me,” he said. “You've ignored me since I got here.”

Shame swirled in her spinning mind. She felt herself blush again.

“I didn't think you remembered me,” she said.

David laughed. “Are you kidding me? We're engaged! How could I forget you?”

She smiled but hid it behind her bangs. “I'm not the same person,” she said. “We were just kids then. Just playing make-believe.”

“I'm not the same person either,” he said, and then, as if hearing his own words for the first time, grew sullen and wistful.

“I'm really good at chemistry,” Eleanor said. “It's my best class.”

“Perfect,” he said. “When should we start?”

“Today? After school?” she offered.

“Great, where should we study? Do you still live in that dollhouse on Cedar Street?”

“Yes,” she said. “It needs painting.”

“I'll tell you what,” David said. “I'll paint your house if you can get me to compete against these yokels at the rodeo.” David stopped short. He shook his head.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I didn't mean that. There are nice people here. It's just, just that they're not what I'm used to. You know? I was living in a big city. Culture and civilization.”

Eleanor smiled.

“Oh no,” he said. “I've done it again. You must think I've become a real snob.”

“No,” she said. “You're right. They are hicks. They know nothing of the world. Jamesford is a backwater. They don't know anything, and worse, they don't know they don't know anything.”

“They've never been starving coyotes,” he said, freezing Eleanor.

“No,” she said. “They have little imagination.”

“Their loss,” he said as they came to the gym door. “My place?”

“Let's start in the library,” Eleanor offered. “Less awkward that way.”

“Yes, of course. What was I thinking?”

Eleanor shrugged.

“I know what I was thinking,” he said. “I was thinking I'd like to show you off to my mother and introduce you to Wendy, my little sister. Maybe you can come over after?”

“Not tonight,” she said. “I've got to get home.”

“It's not far. If you don't want to walk, we could take a bus and my mom can give you a ride home.”

“I know it's not far. But I can't tonight,” she said.

“You know where I live?”

Eleanor looked at her shoes, her hair closing around her face like a shroud.

David laughed. “This is becoming a pretty good day,” he said. “I'll meet you after school in the library, okay?”

“Okay,” said Eleanor.

Outside on the play field, Mr. Blake blew his whistle to assemble the class. David disappeared into the boy's dressing room. Eleanor stood in the hall a long time, collecting her thoughts and arranging her feelings, and utterly failing to do either.

CHAPTER SEVEN

I
n first and second grades, Eleanor was an exemplary student. She was polite and energetic and learned faster than the rest of her class. She was something of a prodigy. Her teacher sent home notes praising her and offering to have her tested to skip a grade. Eleanor and Tabitha talked about it at some length and decided that it would be best for Eleanor to slow down and not draw too much attention to herself.

“We don't want anyone looking too closely at us, cupcake, do we?”

“No, Momma, we don't.”

In a sudden change, Eleanor became a quintessential, average second-grade student. She didn't like it, but she understood it and did it. She stopped playing with the other kids for fear of excelling. She'd been a beast at tag—no one could ever catch her and no one was safe. She moved with a predator's grace and sometimes made the other kids cry when she howled at them as she chased them down. But she stopped all that in second grade.

Eleanor took to the swings then as her primary recess activity. Taking her turn and then getting back in line to take another.

“You like the swings as much as me,” David had said to her. “Are you being an airplane or a bird?”

She'd known David since she came to the school. He was one of the “nice boys,” a group of kids who didn't tease her or make her feel bad. In the last months of second grade, that list was shrinking quickly.

“What are you?” she asked.

“I used to be a plane. One of those old ones with lots of wings. Then I was a Spitfire because my dad said they won Britain. But now, you know, I think I'm just a bird.”

“Birds are cool,” Eleanor said, taking her turn. David took the swing next to her.

“Yeah,” he said. “If I could be any animal, I think I'd be a bird. A big eagle maybe, or a pterodactyl. What would you be?'

“I've never been a bird,” she said. “I think I could be a good one.”

“I bet you could,” he said.

They pumped their legs and swung higher and higher. David fell into rhythm with Eleanor and kept talking.

“You're really smart,” he said. “And you can run really fast.”

“So?” she said, trying to break their synchronicity.

“So it's cool, that's all.”

“Why are you being nice to me?” she asked.

“Aren't you 'spicous,” he said.

“What's 'spicous?” she asked.

“Means you don't trust nobody.”

Eleanor pumped higher until butterflies mixed in her stomach.

“I guess I'm 'spicous then,” she said.

“You can trust me,” David said. “Let's be friends.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“'Cause I'm your friend, silly,” he'd reasoned.

“Oh,” she said, not wholly convinced. “I guess we can be friends,” she said. “Even if I'm 'spicous.”

“That's awesome!” David said. “When we're birds, we can fly around together and see everything and go anywhere.”

When recess was over, the class split into groups for a project, and David appeared next to Eleanor before she had a chance to object.

That was it. From that day on, David and Eleanor were friends. They'd eat lunch together and play together and always managed to be on the same team during games. At first she tolerated him, but then looked forward to seeing him. Once, when David didn't come to school for a dentist appointment, Eleanor started to cry before morning snacks and wouldn't stop. She was inconsolable. Finally, Tabitha had to come take her home.

Eleanor never told her mother why she'd broken down, she hadn't understood it herself, but the next day, when David was back with two new silver fillings, she ran up and hugged him.

He hugged her back and that led to a summer of terrible teasing from the other kids.

“Dave and Eleanor sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

Eleanor couldn't stand it. She avoided David for weeks and stayed at home helping her mother on sunny days. David would come by, and most days she wouldn't even answer the door for him. Finally, he convinced her to go play with him in the park to swing as birds. There, Russell Liddle and his friends teased the two again.

“You guys going to make out?” he said. “Gross.”

“You're just jealous,” David said. Eleanor wanted to run. She'd already spotted a bush she could dart through and a path that would take her to a hiding place by the river.

“Jealous of what? You?”

“Yeah, because you're too ugly to even have a girlfriend, let alone one as cute as Eleanor.”

Russell flustered. His friends waited for the reply. It took a while to come, when it did, he said, “She's as ugly as a horse's ass.”

The swear word impressed his friends and got David's attention. He jumped off the swing, landing in the sand like an Olympic gymnast, and walked directly over to Russell. Russell was taller than David then, and Russell arched his back for his full height. David didn't slow down; he walked up to him, doubled up his fist, and smashed it into his gut. Russell fell over gasping.

“Anyone else want some?” he challenged the two wide-eyed friends.

They backed away.

“Say sorry or I'll make you eat grass,” David ordered Russell.

He squirmed and moaned and kicked the ground. David flopped on top of him and turned him over. He pushed a fistful of grass into Russell's crying face until he shouted, “I'm sorry!”

The other boys were gone. It was just Russell, David, and Eleanor. Russell cried, Eleanor gawked, and David stood up.

“Good,” he said. “'Bout time you learned some manners.”

Afterward, the two of them went for ice cream.

“Ah, don't be upset,” David told her. “He had it coming.”

“I just hate to see fighting. It's so scary.”

“My dad says to never start a fight, but always finish it.”

“What does that mean?”

“I think it means don't run away.”

“Did you hurt him?”

“Russell? Heck no,” he said. “Well, maybe a little bit. When I punched him. But he'll be fine.”

“You're going to get in trouble now, aren't you?”

“I doubt it,” he said. “Russell is a lot of things, but tattletale ain't one of them.”

“Why'd you do it?” Eleanor asked. She hadn't touched her ice cream. It melted down her fingers.

“Because he was being mean to you,” he said. “You eat less than a mouse. I paid a dollar for that ice cream. You better eat it. Don't be wasteful.”

“Oh, no. That wouldn't do,” she said and took bite. “It's good.”

“Yep, our first date.”

“What?”

“My dad said he used to take my mom out for ice cream on dates. So we're on a date.”

She didn't understand.

“We're going steady now,” he said. “You're my girl and I'm your boy. We'll get married one day.”

“You have to be in love to get married, don't you?”

“I love you,” he said plainly. “Don't you love me?”

Eleanor thought about it.

“How do I know?” she asked.

“You like me?”

“Yes,” she said.

“We're friends aren't we?”

“Sure.”

“You'd do nice things for me, wouldn't you?”

“Yes, of course. I would if I could.”

“Well, me too. Like today. That showed I love you.”

“I'd be afraid to hit Russell,” she said.

“No, silly. That's what I did. You could do something like make me cookies sometimes or read to me when I'm sick. That's like love.”

“Oh, I could do that for you,” she said.

“So we're in love,” he said smartly. “And when a girl and a boy love each other, eventually they get married. That's how things work. Ask your mom.”

Eleanor ate her ice cream thinking about what he had said.

“I could tell you a secret,” she said. “To show you I love you.”

“Yes, that would be good. That's how it works. I'm sure of it.”

“I've never told anybody but Tabitha before,” she said. “I'm not supposed to tell anyone. Do you promise to keep it secret?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” he said.

She looked at him hard, using her years of experience to read his intent. She was good at that. She could sense moods like a seasoned predator, but she could not tell the endurance of those moods. She had not been around people long enough to develop that kind of empathy, and wondered if she ever would. She could sense fear, and joy, see lies in the way a person glanced away, and truth in the way their eyes melted, but people were fickle. One day they were your friends bringing you corn and beans, and the next day they had guns.

She looked hard at David who was down to the stick of his fudgesicle.

“It's okay, Eleanor,” he said. “You don't have to tell me if it's too secret. That's also what friends do.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but caution stopped the sound in her throat.

“If you want to tell me, you can trust me,” he said. “I won't tell.”

There it was. Trust. Tabitha had cautioned her about trusting too easily and too openly. She had secrets. They had secrets. Secrets that would rend the family to pieces and worse.

“I'm afraid you won't like me if I tell you,” she said finally.

“Oh, that kind of secret,” he said.

She nodded.

“I'll tell you what,” he said. “I'll think of a secret first and tell you, and then you can tell me. Then we'll be even.”

“Okay,” she said.

David couldn't think of one that day, so they went back to the park and pretended to be crows on the swings until the sun set, and they had to go home.

Later that month, the week before school was to begin their third grade, David rushed to Eleanor's one morning and knocked on the door. Tabitha was having one of her better days. She had more good days than bad back then, and fed him and Eleanor toast with jam and a glass of juice.

“You guys sure have a nice place,” he said very politely.

“Where did you learn your manners, David?” Tabitha asked.

“My father, ma'am. He's in the army. That's what I came to tell Eleanor. It's my secret.”

Eleanor blanched. Tabitha glanced at her suspiciously.

“Secrets?”

“Sorry, Mrs. Walker,” he said. “I can't talk about it with you. It's a secret for Eleanor.”

After breakfast, the two kids went down by the stream to catch frogs.

“Where's your dad?” David asked.

“I don't have one. It's just Tabitha and me.”

“Oh. Does it make you sad?”

“No,” she said. “I don't think of it much. I used to have a dad and a mom and a little brother. But they died. Now it's just Tabitha and me.”

“Was that your secret?” David said. “I haven't told you mine yet.”

“Yeah, it's kinda one,” she said.

“Well, I promise not to tell,” he said and crossed his chest.

Eleanor caught a frog.

“My dad's going to war,” David said. “That's my secret. He's going on a secret mission to Iraq. You can't tell nobody or it'll sink ships. It's a secret and no one knows but you and my mom and dad and me.”

“Wow,” she said. “That's a good one.”

“Yeah, it is. We just found out this morning, and I had to run over and tell you.”

She showed David the frog. It jumped out of her hand and they chased it across the bank until they lost it in the reeds.

“You ever eaten a frog?” David said. “My mom says they do that in France.”

“Yes,” Eleanor said. “I've eaten hundreds.”

“You lie,” he said.

“No,” she said. “I have. I was so hungry. I was hungry all the time. Frogs were good and I got good at catching them. I could bite them and swallow them all at once.”

“Eleanor, friends don't tell fibs, unless you're telling a tall tale.”

“It's not a fib,” she said.

“Then it's a tale,” he said. “Go on. Tell me when you ate all them frogs.”

“After my family died, I was not to be seen. I became a coyote and stayed that way for a long, long time. That's when I ate all the frogs.”