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