Eleanor & Park (34 page)

Holding hands was fine. Her

hands

weren’t

a

complete

embarrassment.

And

kissing

seemed safe because fat lips are

okay – and because Park usually

closed his eyes.

But there was no safe place on

Eleanor’s torso. There was no

place from her neck to her knees

where she had any discernible

infrastructure.

As soon as Park touched her

waist, she’d sucked in her

stomach and pitched forward.

Which led to all the collateral

damage … which made her feel

like Godzilla. (But even Godzilla

wasn’t

fat.

He

was

just

ginormous.)

The maddening part was,

Eleanor wanted Park to touch her

again. She wanted him to touch

her constantly. Even if it led to

Park deciding that she was way

too much like a walrus to remain

his girlfriend …
That’s
how good

it felt. She was like one of those

dogs who’ve tasted human blood

and can’t stop biting. A walrus

who’s tasted human blood.

CHAPTER 40

Eleanor

Park wanted Eleanor to start

checking

her

books

now,

especially after gym class.

‘Because if it is Tina,’ he said

– you could tell that he still didn’t

believe that it was, ‘you need to

tell somebody.’

‘Tell who?’ They were sitting

in his room, leaning against his

bed, trying to pretend that Park

didn’t have his arm around her for

the first time since she crushed his

cassette tapes. Just barely, not

quite around her.

‘You could tell Mrs Dunne,’

he said. ‘She likes you.’

‘Okay, so I tell Mrs Dunne,

and I show her whatever awful

thing Tina has misspelled on my

books – and then Mrs Dunne asks,

“How do you know that Tina

wrote that?” She’ll be just as

skeptical as you were, but without

the complicated romantic history

…’

‘There’s

no

complicated

romantic history,’ Park said.

‘Did you kiss her?’ Eleanor

hadn’t meant to ask that. Out loud.

It was almost like she’d asked it so

many times in her head that it

leaked out.

‘Mrs Dunne? No. But we’ve

hugged a lot.’

‘You know what I mean …

Did you kiss her?’

She was sure that he’d kissed

her. She was sure that they’d done

other stuff, too. Tina was so little,

Park could probably wrap his

arms all the way around her and

shake his own hands at her waist.

‘I don’t want to talk about

this,’ he said.

‘Because you did,’ Eleanor

said.

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘ I t
does
matter. Was it your

first kiss?’

‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘and that’s one

of the reasons it doesn’t count. It

was like a practice pitch.’

‘What are the other reasons?’

‘It was Tina, I was twelve, I

didn’t even like girls yet …’

‘But you’ll always remember

it,’ she said. ‘It was your first

kiss.’

‘I’ll remember that it didn’t

matter,’ Park said.

Eleanor wanted to let this go –

the most trustworthy voices in her

head were shouting, ‘
Let it go!
’

‘But …’ she said, ‘how could

you kiss
her
?’

‘I was twelve.’

‘But she’s awful.’

‘She was twelve, too.’

‘But … how could you kiss

her and then kiss me?’

‘I didn’t even know you

existed.’ Park’s arm suddenly

made contact, full contact, with

Eleanor’s waist. He pressed into

her side, and she sat up,

instinctively, trying to spread

herself thinner.

‘There aren’t even roads

between Tina and me …’ she said.

‘How could you like us both? Did

you have a life-changing head

injury in junior high?’

Park put his other arm around

her. ‘Please. Listen to me. It was

nothing. It doesn’t matter.’

‘It

matters,’

Eleanor

whispered. Now that his arms

were around her, there was almost

no space between them. ‘Because

you were the first person I ever

kissed. And that matters.’

He set his forehead against

hers. She didn’t know what to do

with her eyes or her hands.

‘Nothing before you counts,’

he said. ‘And I can’t even imagine

an after.’

She shook her head. ‘Don’t.’

‘What?’

‘Don’t talk about after.’

‘I just meant that … I want to

be the
last
person who ever kisses

you, too … That sounds bad, like

a death threat or something. What

I’m trying to say is, you’re it.
This

is it for me.’

‘
Don’t
.’ She didn’t want him

to talk like this. She’d meant to

push him, but not this far.

‘Eleanor …’

‘I don’t want to think about an

after.’

‘That’s what I’m saying,

maybe there won’t be one.’

‘Of course there will.’ She put

her hands on his chest, so that she

could push him away if she had

to. ‘I mean … God, of course

there will. It’s not like we’re going

to get married, Park.’

‘Not now.’

‘Stop.’ She tried to roll her

eyes, but it hurt.

‘I’m not proposing,’ he said.

‘I’m just saying … I love you.

And I can’t imagine stopping …’

She shook her head. ‘But

you’re twelve.’

‘I’m sixteen …’ he said. ‘Bono

was fifteen when he met his wife,

and Robert Smith was fourteen

…’

‘Romeo, sweet Romeo …’

‘It’s not like that, Eleanor, and

you know it.’ Park’s arms were

tight

around

her.

All

the

playfulness in his voice was gone.

‘There’s no reason to think we’re

going to stop loving each other,’

he said. ‘And there’s every reason

to think that we won’t.’

I never said I loved you
,

Eleanor thought.

And even after he kissed her,

she kept her hands on his chest.

So. Anyway. Park wanted her to

start checking her book covers.

Especially after gym class. So now

Eleanor

waited

until

almost

everybody else had changed and

left the locker room, and then she

carefully examined her books for

anything suspicious.

It was all very clinical.

DeNice and Beebi usually

waited with her. It meant that they

were late for lunch sometimes, but

it also meant that they could all

change in relative privacy, which

they should have thought of

months ago.

There didn’t seem to be

anything

pervy

written

on

Eleanor’s books today. In fact,

Tina had ignored her all through

class. Even Tina’s sidekicks (even

thuggy Annette) seemed bored

with Eleanor.

‘I think they’ve run out of

ways to make fun of my hair,’

Eleanor said to DeNice while she

looked over her algebra book.

‘They could call you “Ronald

McDonald,”’ DeNice said. ‘Have

they called you that?’

‘Or “Wendy,”’ Beebi said,

lowering her voice and wolfing,

‘Where’s the beef?’

‘ S h u t
up
,’

Eleanor

said,

looking around the locker room.

‘Little pitchers.’

‘They’re all gone,’ DeNice

said. ‘Everybody’s gone. They’re

all in the cafeteria, eating my

Macho Nachos. Hurry up, girl.’

‘You go ahead,’ Eleanor said.

‘Get us a place in line. I still have

to change.’

‘All right,’ DeNice said, ‘but

stop looking at those books. You

said it yourself, there’s nothing

there. Come on, Beebi.’

Eleanor started packing up her

books. She heard Beebi shout,

‘Where’s the beef?’ from the

locker-room door. Dork. Eleanor

opened up her locker.

It was empty.

Huh.

She tried the one above it.

Nothing. And nothing below.
No

…

Eleanor started over, opening

all the lockers on the wall, then

moving on to the next wall, trying

not to panic. Maybe they’d just

moved her clothes. Ha. Funny.

Super-good joke, Tina.

‘What are you doing?’ Mrs

Burt asked.

‘Looking for my clothes,’

Eleanor said.

‘You should use the same

locker every time, so it’s easy to

remember.’

‘No, somebody … I mean, I

think somebody took them.’

‘Those little bitches …’ Mrs

Burt sighed. Like she couldn’t

imagine a bigger hassle.

Mrs Burt started opening

lockers at the other end of the

room. Eleanor checked the trash

and the showers. Then Mrs Burt

called out from the bathroom.

‘Found them!’

Eleanor

walked

into

the

bathroom. The floor was wet, and

Mrs Burt was standing in a stall.

‘I’ll get a bag,’ Mrs Burt said,

pushing past Eleanor.

Eleanor looked down at the

toilet. Even though she knew what

she was going to see there, it still

felt like a wet slap in the face. Her

new jeans and her cowboy shirt

were in a dark pile in the bowl,

and her shoes were crammed

under the lip. Somebody had

flushed the toilet, and there was

water still spilling over the edge.

Eleanor watched it run.

‘Here,’ Mrs Burt said, handing

Eleanor a yellow Food 4 Less bag.

‘Fish ’em out.’

‘I don’t want them,’ Eleanor

said, backing away. She couldn’t

wear them anymore anyway.

Everybody would know those

were her toilet clothes.

‘Well, you can’t leave them

here,’ Mrs Burt said. ‘Fish them

out.’ Eleanor stared at her clothes.

‘Come on,’ Mrs Burt said.

Eleanor reached into the toilet

and felt tears slipping down her

cheeks. Mrs Burt held the bag

open. ‘You’ve got to stop letting

them get to you, you know,’ she

said. ‘You just encourage them.’

Yeah,
thanks
, Eleanor thought,

wringing out her jeans over the

toilet. She wanted to wipe her

eyes, but her hands were wet.

Mrs Burt handed her the bag.

‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I’ll write

you a pass.’

‘For where?’ Eleanor asked.

‘Your counselor’s office.’

Eleanor took a sharp breath. ‘I

can’t walk down the hall like this.’

‘What do you want from me,

Eleanor?’ That was obviously a

rhetorical question; Mrs Burt

wasn’t even looking at her.

Eleanor followed her to the

coach’s office and waited for the

pass.

As soon as she got out to the

hallway, the tears came on hard.

She couldn’t walk through the

school like this – in her
gymsuit
.

In front of boys … And

everybody. In front of
Tina
. God,

Tina was probably selling tickets

outside the cafeteria. Eleanor

couldn’t do it. Not like this.

It wasn’t just that her gymsuit

was ugly. (Polyester. One-piece.

Red-and-white stripes with an

extra-long white zipper.)

It was also
extremely
tight.

The shorts just barely cleared

her underwear, and the fabric was

stretched so tight over her chest,

the seams were starting to pop

under her arms.

She was a tragedy in that

gymsuit. A ten-car pileup.

People were already showing

up for the next gym class. A few

freshman girls looked at Eleanor,

then started whispering. Her bag

was dripping.

Before she could think it

through, Eleanor turned the wrong

way down the hall and headed for

the door to the football field. She

acted like she was
supposed
to be

walking out of the building in the

middle of the day, like she was on

some

kind

of

weeping/half-

dressed/drippy-bag mission.

The door clicked locked

behind her, and Eleanor crouched