Eleanor & Park (20 page)

the nurse was pretty sure he’d

broken a finger.

Park waited in the office with

ice on his face while his dad

talked to the principal. The

secretary brought him a Sprite

from the teachers’ lounge.

His dad didn’t say anything

until they were driving.

‘Taekwando is the art of self-

defense,’ he said sternly.

Park didn’t answer. His whole

face was throbbing; the nurse

wasn’t allowed to give out

Tylenol.

‘Did you really kick him in the

face?’ his dad asked.

Park nodded.

‘That had to be a jump kick.’

‘Jump reverse hook,’ Park

groaned.

‘No way.’

Park tried to give his dad a

dirty look, but any look at all felt

like getting hit in the face with

rocks.

‘He’s lucky you wear those

little tennis shoes,’ his dad said,

‘even in the middle of winter …

Seriously, a jump reverse hook?’

Park nodded.

‘Huh. Well, your mom is going

to hit the goddamn roof when she

sees you. She was at your

grandma’s house, crying, when

she called me.’

His dad was right. When Park

walked

in,

his

mom

was

practically incoherent.

She took him by the shoulders

and looked up at his face, shaking

her head. ‘Fighting!’ she said,

stabbing her index finger into his

chest. ‘Fighting like white-trash

dumb monkey …’

He’d seen her this mad at Josh

before – he’d seen her throw a

basket of silk flowers at Josh’s

head – but never at him.

‘Waste,’ she said. ‘Waste!

Fighting! Can’t trust you with own

face.’

His dad tried to put his hand

on her shoulder, but she shook

him off.

‘Get the boy a steak, Harold,’

his grandma said, sitting Park at

the kitchen table and inspecting

his face.

‘I’m not wasting a steak on

that,’ his grandpa said.

His dad went to the cupboard

to get Park some Tylenol and a

glass of water.

‘Can

you

breathe?’

his

grandma asked.

‘Through my mouth,’ Park

said.

‘Your dad broke his nose so

many times, he can only breathe

through one nostril. That’s why he

snores like a freight train.’

‘No more taekwando,’ his

mom said. ‘No more fighting.’

‘Mindy …’ his dad said. ‘It

was one fight. He was sticking up

for some girl the kids pick on.’

‘She’s not some girl,’ Park

growled. His voice made every

bone in his head vibrate with pain.

‘She’s my girlfriend.’

He hoped so, anyway.

‘Is it the redhead?’ his

grandma asked.

‘Eleanor,’ he said. ‘Her
name
–

is
Eleanor
.’

‘No girlfriend, no,’ his mom

said,

folding

her

arms.

‘Grounded.’

Eleanor

When Eleanor rang the doorbell,

Magnum P.I. answered.

‘Hi,’ she said, trying to smile.

‘I go to school with Park. I have

his books and stuff.’

Park’s dad looked her up and

down, but not like he was

checking her out, thank God.

More like he was sizing her up.

(Which was also uncomfortable.)

‘Are you Helen?’ he asked.

‘Eleanor,’ she said.

‘Eleanor, right … Just a

second.’

Before she could tell him that

she just wanted to drop off Park’s

stuff, he walked away. He left the

door open, and Eleanor could hear

him talking to someone, probably

in the kitchen, probably Park’s

mom. ‘Come on, Mindy …’ And,

‘Just for a few minutes …’ And

then, right before he came back to

the door, ‘With a nickname like

Big Red, I expected her to be a lot

bigger.’

‘I was just dropping this off,’

Eleanor said when he pushed the

screen open.

‘Thanks,’ he said, ‘come on

in.’

Eleanor

held

up

Park’s

backpack.

‘Seriously, kid,’ he said.

‘Come on in and give it to him

yourself. I’m sure he wants to see

you.’

Don’t be
, she thought.

But she followed him through

the living room, down the short

hall to Park’s room. His dad

knocked softly and peeked in the

door.

‘Hey. Sugar Ray. Someone’s

here to see you. You want to

powder your nose first?’

He opened the door for

Eleanor, then walked away.

Park’s room was small, but it

was packed with stuff. Stacks of

books and tapes and comic books.

Model airplanes. Model cars.

Board games. A rotating solar

system hung over his bed like one

of those things you put over a

crib.

Park was on his bed, trying to

prop himself up on his elbows,

when she walked in.

She gasped when she saw his

face. It looked so much worse

than it had earlier.

One of his eyes was swollen

shut, and his nose was thick and

purple. It made her want to cry.

And to kiss him. (Because

apparently everything made her

want to kiss him. Park could tell

her that he had lice and leprosy

and parasitic worms living in his

mouth, and she would still put on

fresh ChapStik.
God
.) ‘Are you

okay?’ she asked. Park nodded

and sat up against his headboard.

She set down his bag and his coat,

and walked over to the bed. He

made room for her, so she sat

down.

‘Whoa,’ she said, falling

backwards, tipping Park on his

side. He groaned and grabbed her

arm.

‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘oh my God,

sorry, are you okay? I wasn’t

expecting a
waterbed
.’ Just saying

that word made her giggle. Park

laughed a little, too. It sounded

like snorting.

‘My mom bought it,’ he said.

‘She thinks they’re good for your

back.’

He was keeping both of his

eyes mostly shut, even the good

one, and he didn’t open his mouth

when he talked.

‘Does it hurt to talk?’ she

asked.

He nodded. He hadn’t let go of

her arm, even though she’d

recovered

her

balance.

If

anything, he was holding it tighter.

She reached up with her other

hand and lightly touched his hair.

Brushed it out of his face. It felt

smooth and sharp at the same

time, like she could feel each

strand under her fingertips.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

She didn’t ask why.

There were tears pooling in the

slit of his left eye and slipping

down his right cheek. She started

to wipe them away, but she didn’t

want to touch him.

‘It’s okay …’ she said. She let

her hand settle in her own lap.

She wondered if he was still

trying to break up with her. If he

was, she wouldn’t hold it against

him.

‘Did I ruin everything?’ he

asked.

‘Every-what?’ she whispered,

as if listening might hurt him, too.

‘Every-us.’

She shook her head, even

though he probably couldn’t see

her. ‘Not. Possible,’ she said.

He ran his palm down her arm

and squeezed her hand. She could

see the muscles flex in his forearm

and just under the sleeve of his T-

shirt.

‘I think you might have ruined

your face,’ she said.

He groaned.

‘Which is okay,’ she said,

‘because you were way too cute

for me, anyway.’

‘You think I’m cute?’ he said

thickly, pulling on her hand.

She was glad he couldn’t see

her face. ‘I think you’re …’

Beautiful. Breathtaking. Like

the person in a Greek myth who

makes one of the gods stop caring

about being a god.

Somehow the bruises and

swelling made Park even more

beautiful. His face looked ready to

break out of its chrysalis.

‘They’re still going to make

fun of me,’ she blurted. ‘This fight

doesn’t change that. You can’t

start kicking people every time

someone thinks I’m weird or ugly

… Promise me you won’t try.

Promise me that you’ll try not to

care.’

He pulled on her hand again,

and shook his head, gingerly.

‘Because it doesn’t matter to

me, Park. If you like me,’ she

said, ‘I swear to God, nothing else

matters.’

He leaned back into his

headboard, and pulled her hand to

his chest.

‘Eleanor, how many times do I

have to tell you,’ he said, through

his teeth, ‘that I don’t like you …’

Park was grounded, and he

wouldn’t be back at school until

Friday.

But nobody bothered Eleanor

the next day on the bus. Nothing

bothered her all day long.

After gym class, she found

more pervy stuff written on her

chemistry book – ‘pop that

cherry,’ written in globby purple

ink. Instead of scribbling it out,

Eleanor tore off the cover and

threw it away. She might be broke

and pathetic, but she could still

scrounge up another brown paper

bag.

When Eleanor got home after

school, her mom followed her

into the kids’ room. There were

two new pairs of Goodwill jeans

folded on the top bunk.

‘I found some money when I

was doing laundry,’ her mom

said. Which meant that Richie had

accidentally left money in his

pants. If he came home drunk,

he’d never ask about it – he’d just

assume he spent it at the bar.

Whenever her mom found

money, she tried to spend it on

things Richie would never notice.

Clothes

for

Eleanor.

New

underwear for Ben. Cans of tuna

fish and bags of flour. Things that

could be hidden in drawers and

cupboards.

Her mom had become some

sort of genius double agent since

she hooked up with Richie. It was

like she was keeping them all alive

behind his back.

Eleanor tried the jeans on

before anybody else got home.

They were a little big, but much

nicer than anything else she had.

All her other pants had something

wrong with them – a broken

zipper or a tear in the crotch –

some flaw she had to hide by

constantly pulling down her shirt.

It would be nice to have jeans that

didn’t do anything worse than sag.

Maisie’s present was a bag of

half-dressed Barbies. When Maisie

got home, she laid all the dolls out

on the bottom bunk, trying to put

together one or two complete

outfits for them.

Eleanor climbed onto the bed

with her and helped comb and

braid their frayed hair.

‘I wish there’d been a Ken in

there,’ Maisie said.

On Friday morning, when Eleanor

got to her bus stop, Park was

already there waiting for her.

CHAPTER 23

Park

His eye went from purple to blue

to green to yellow.

‘How long am I grounded?’ he

asked his mother.

‘Long enough to make you

sorry about fight,’ she said.

‘I
am
sorry,’ he said.

But he wasn’t really. The fight

had changed something on the

bus. Park felt less anxious now –

more relaxed. Maybe it was

because he’d stood up to Steve.

Maybe it was because he had

nothing left to hide …

Plus nobody on the bus had

ever seen anybody kick like that in

real life.

‘ I t
was

pretty

fantastic,’

Eleanor said on the way to school,

a few days after he came back.

‘Where did you learn to do that?’

‘My dad’s been making me go

to taekwando since kindergarten

… It was actually kind of a stupid,

show-offy kick. If Steve had been

thinking, he could have grabbed

my leg or pushed me.’

‘If Steve had been
thinking
…’

she said.

‘I thought you’d think it was