Eleanor & Park

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.

Realized that they meant it for her.

Go. Big. Red.

She looked at Park. He knew it, too. He was staring straight ahead. His fists were clenched tight at his sides. He looked like someone she’d never met.

‘It’s okay,’ she said.

He closed his eyes and shook his head.

The bus was parking in front of their school, and Eleanor couldn’t wait to get off. She forced herself to stay in her seat until it stopped, and to calmly walk forward. The chanting broke up into laughter. Park was right behind her, but he stopped as soon as he was off the bus. He threw his backpack on the ground and took off his coat.

Eleanor stopped, too. ‘Hey,’ she said, ‘wait, no. What are you doing?’

‘I’m ending this.’

‘No. Come on. It’s not worth it.’

‘You are,’ he said fiercely, looking at her.

‘ You’re worth it.’

‘This isn’t for me,’ she said. She wanted to pull at him, but she didn’t feel like he was hers to hold back. ‘I don’t want this.’

‘I’m tired of them embarrassing you.’

Steve was getting off the bus, and Park clenched his fists again.

‘Embarrassing me?’ she said. ‘Or embarrassing you?’

He looked back at her, stricken. And she knew again that she was right. Damn it. Why did he keep letting her be right about all the crappy stuff?

‘If this is for me,’ she said, as fiercely as she could, ‘then listen to me. I don’t want this.’

He looked in her eyes. His eyes were so green, they looked yellow. He was breathing heavy, and his face was dark red under the gold.

‘Is it for me?’ she asked.

He nodded. He dug into her with his eyes. He looked like he was begging for something.

‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘ Please. Let’s go to class.’

He closed his eyes and, eventually, nodded.

She bent over to get his coat, and heard Steve say, ‘That’s right, Red. Show it off.’

And then Park was gone.

When she turned to look, he was already shoving Steve back toward the bus. They looked like David and Goliath, if David had gotten close enough to let Goliath kick his ass.

Kids were already yelling ‘fight!’ and ru

She heard Park say, ‘I’m so sick of your mouth.’

And she heard Steve say, ‘Are you serious with this?’

He pushed Park hard, but Park didn’t fall.

Park took a few steps back, then cranked his shoulder forward, spi

Tina screamed.

Steve sprung forward almost as soon as Park landed, swinging his giant fists and clubbing Park in the head.

Eleanor thought that she might be watching him die.

She ran to get between them, but Tina was already there. Then one of the bus drivers was there. And anassistant principal. All pushing them apart.

Park was panting and hanging his head.

Steve was holding his own mouth. There was a waterfall of blood on his chin. ‘Jesus Christ, Park, what the fuck? I think you knocked out my tooth.’

Park lifted his head. His whole face was covered with blood. He staggered forward and the assistant principal caught him. ‘ Leave … my girlfriend … alone.’

‘I didn’t know she was really your girlfriend,’

Steve shouted. A bunch more blood spilled out of his mouth.

‘Jesus, Steve. It shouldn’t matter.’

‘It matters,’ Steve spat. ‘You’re my friend. I didn’t know she was your girlfriend.’

Park put his hands on his knees and shook his head, splattering the sidewalk.

‘Well, she is.’

‘All right,’ Steve said. ‘Jesus.’

There were enough adults now to herd the boys to the building. Eleanor carried Park’s coat and his backpack to her locker. She didn’t know what to do with them.

She didn’t know what to do with herself either. She didn’t know how to feel.

Was she supposed to be happy that Park had called her his girlfriend? It’s not like he’d given her any choice in the matter – and it’s not like he’d said it happily. He said it with his head down, with his face dripping blood.

Should she be worried about him? Could he still have brain damage, even though he’d been talking? Could he still stroke out, or fall into a coma? Whenever anyone in her family was fighting, her mother would start shouting, ‘Not in the head, not in the head!’

Also, was it wrong to be so worried about Park’s face?

Steve had the kind of face that could take or leave teeth. A few gaps in Steve’s smile would just add to the big creepy goon look he was rocking.

But Park’s face was like art. And not weird, ugly art either. Park had the sort of face you painted because you didn’t want history to forget it.

Was Eleanor supposed to be mad at him still?

Was she supposed to be indignant? Was she supposed to shout at him when she saw him in English class, ‘Was that for me? Or for you?’

She hung his trench coat in her locker, and leaned in to take a deep breath. It smelled like Irish Spring and a little bit like potpourri and like something she couldn’t describe anyway other than boy.

Park wasn’t in English or history, and he wasn’t on the bus after school. Neither was Steve. Tina walked by Eleanor’s seat with her head in the air; Eleanor looked away. Everybody else on the bus was talking about the fight. ‘Fucking Kung Fu, fucking David Carradine.’ And ‘Fuck David Carradine – fucking Chuck Norris.’

Eleanor got off at Park’s stop. Park

He was suspended for two days.

Steve was suspended for two weeks because this was his third fight of the year. Park felt kind of bad about that – because Park was the one who’d started the fight – but then he thought about all the other ridiculous crap Steve did every day and never got busted for.