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