Eleanor imagined Park’s dad, Tom Selleck, tucking his Dainty China person into his flak jacket and sneaking her out of Korea.
Park’s mom made Eleanor feel like a giant. Eleanor couldn’t be that much taller than her, maybe three or four inches. But Eleanor was so much bigger. If you were an alien who came to Earth to study its life forms, you wouldn’t even think the two of them were the same species.
When Eleanor was around girls like that – like Park’s mom, like Tina, like most of the girls in the neighborhood – she wondered where they put their organs. Like, how could you have a stomach and intestines and kidneys, and still wear such tiny jeans? Eleanor knew that she was fat, but she didn’t feel that fat. She could feel her bones and muscles just underneath all the chub, and they were big, too. Park’s mom could wear Eleanor’s ribcage like a roomy vest.
Park was probably going to break up with her tomorrow, and not even because she was huge.
He was going to break up with her because she was a huge mess.
Because she couldn’t even be around regular people without freaking out.
It was just too much. Meeting his pretty, perfect mom. Seeing his normal, perfect house. Eleanor hadn’t known there were houses like
that
in
this
crappy
neighborhood – houses with wall-to-wall carpeting and little baskets of potpourri everywhere. She didn’t know there were families like that. The only upside to living in this effed-up neighborhood was that everybody else was effed up, too. The other kids might hate Eleanor for being big and weird, but they weren’t going to hate on her for having a broken family and a broke-down house. That was kind of the rule around here.
Park’s family didn’t fit. They were the Cleavers. And he’d told her that his grandparents lived in the house next door, which had flower boxes, for Christ’s sake.
His family was practically the Waltons.
Eleanor’s family had been messed up even before Richie came around and sent everything straight to hell.
She would never belong in Park’s living room. She never felt like she belonged anywhere, except for when she was lying on her
bed,
pretending
to
be
somewhere else.
CHAPTER 22
Eleanor
When Eleanor got to their seat the next morning, Park didn’t stand up to let her in. He just scooted over. It didn’t seem like he wanted to look at her; he handed her some comic books, then turned away.
Steve was being really loud.
Maybe he was always this loud.
When Park was holding her hand, Eleanor couldn’t even hear herself think.
Everyone in the back of the bus was singing the Nebraska fight song. There was some big game coming up this weekend, against Oklahoma or Oregon or something. Mr Stessman was giving them extra credit all week for wearing red. You wouldn’t think Mr Stessman would be prone to all this Husker crap, but it seemed like nobody was immune.
Except Park.
Park was wearing a U2 shirt today with a picture of a little boy on the chest. Eleanor had been up all night thinking about how he was probably done with her, and now she just wanted to put herself out of her misery.
She pulled at the edge of his sleeve.
‘Yeah?’ Park said softly.
‘Are you over me?’ she asked.
It didn’t come out like a joke.
Because it wasn’t.
He shook his head, but looked out the window.
‘Are you mad at me?’ she asked.
His
fingers
were
locked
loosely together in his lap, like he was thinking about praying. ‘Sort of.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘You don’t even know why I’m mad.’
‘I’m still sorry.’
He looked at her then and smiled a little.
‘Do you want to know?’ he asked.
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it’s probably for something I can’t help.’
‘Like what?’ he asked.
‘Like for being weird,’ she said. ‘Or … for hyperventilating in your living room.’
‘I feel like that was partly my fault.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘Eleanor, stop, listen, I’m mad because I feel like you decided to leave my house as soon as you walked in, maybe even before that.’
‘I felt like I shouldn’t be there,’ she said. She didn’t say it loud enough to be heard over the creeps in the back. (Seriously.
Their singing was even worse than their shouting.) ‘I didn’t feel like you wanted me there,’ she said, a little louder.
The way Park looked at her then, biting his bottom lip, she knew she was at least a little bit right.
She’d wanted to be all wrong.
She’d wanted him to tell her that he did want her at his house, that he wanted her to come back and try again.
Park said something, but she couldn’t hear him, because now the kids in the back were chanting.
Steve was standing at the back of the aisle, waving his gorilla arms like a conductor.
Go. Big. Red.
Go. Big. Red.
Go. Big. Red.
She looked around. Everyone was saying it.
Go. Big. Red.
Go. Big. Red.
Eleanor’s fingertips went cold.
She looked around again, and realized that they were all looking at her.
Go. Big. Red.