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 against it, letting herself fall apart.
Just for a minute. God. God.
There was a trash can sitting right outside the door, and she got up and hurled the Food 4 Less bag into it. She wiped her eyes with her
gymsuit. Okay, she told herself, taking a deep breath, get it together. Don’t let them get to you. Those were her new jeans in the trash. And her favorite shoes.
Her Vans. She walked over to the trash and shook her head, reaching down for the bag. Fuck you, Tina. Fuck you to the moon.
She took another deep breath and started walking.
There were no classrooms at this end of the school, so at least no one was watching her. She stuck close to the building, and when she turned the corner, she walked under a row of windows.
She thought about walking right home, but that might be worse.
It’d definitely be longer.
If she could just get to the front door, the counselor’s offices were right inside. Mrs Dunne would help her. Mrs Dunne wouldn’t tell her not to cry.
The security guard at the front door
acted
like
girls
were
wandering in and out in their gym clothes all day long. He glanced at Eleanor’s pass and waved her on.
Almost there, Eleanor thought.
Don’t run, just a few more doors …
She
really
should
have
expected Park to walk through one of them.
Ever since the first day they’d met, Eleanor was always seeing him in unexpected places. It was like their lives were overlapping lines, like they had their own gravity. Usually, that serendipity felt like the nicest thing the universe had ever done for her.
Park walked out of a door on the opposite side of the hallway and stopped as soon as he saw her. She tried to look away, but she didn’t do it soon enough.
Park’s face turned red. He stared at her. She pulled down her shorts and stumbled forward, running the
last
few
steps
to
the
counselors’ offices.
‘You don’t have to go back there,’
her mom said after Eleanor had told her the whole story. (Almost the whole story.)
Eleanor thought for a moment about what she’d do if she didn’t go back to school. Stay here all day? And then what?
‘It’s okay,’ she said. Mrs Dunne had driven Eleanor home herself, and she’d promised to bring a padlock for her gym locker.
Eleanor’s mom dumped the yellow plastic bag into the bathtub and started rinsing out the clothes, wrinkling her nose, even though they didn’t smell.
‘Girls are so mean …’ she said. ‘You’re lucky to have one friend you can trust.’
Eleanor must have looked confused.
‘Tina,’ her mom said. ‘You’re lucky to have Tina.’
Eleanor nodded.
She stayed home that night.
Even though it was Friday, and Park’s family always watched movies and made popcorn in the air popper on Fridays.
She couldn’t face him.
All she’d see was the look on his face in the hallway. She’d feel like she was still standing there in her gymsuit.
CHAPTER 41
Park
Park went to bed early. His mom kept bothering him about Eleanor.
‘Where’s Eleanor tonight?’ ‘She running late?’ ‘You get in fight?’
Every time she said Eleanor’s name, Park felt his face go hot.
‘I can tell that something wrong,’ his mom said at dinner.
‘Did you get in fight? Did you break up again?’
‘No,’ Park said. ‘I think maybe she went home sick. She wasn’t on the bus.’
‘I have a girlfriend now,’ Josh said, ‘can she start coming over?’
‘No girlfriend,’ their mom said, ‘too young.’
‘I’m almost thirteen!’
‘Sure,’ their dad said, ‘your girlfriend can come over. If you’re willing to give up your Nintendo.’
‘What?’ Josh was stricken.
‘Why?’
‘Because I said so,’ his dad said. ‘Is it a deal?’
‘No! No way,’ Josh said.
‘Does Park have to give up Nintendo?’
‘Yep. Is that okay with you, Park?’
‘Fine.’
‘I’m like Billy Jack,’ their dad said, ‘a warrior and a wise-man.’
It
wasn’t
much
of
a
conversation, but it was the most his dad had said to Park in weeks.
Maybe his dad had been bracing for the entire neighborhood to swarm the house with torches and pitchforks as soon as they saw Park with eyeliner …
But almost nobody cared. Not even
his
grandparents.