Eleanor & Park

‘There are no other kids,’ Eleanor said, ‘it’s not like that.’

‘You don’t care about us,’ Maisie said.

‘I do care,’ Eleanor hissed. ‘I just can’t …

help you.’

The door opened, and Mouse wandered in.

‘Ben, Ben, Ben, where’s my car, Ben? Where’s my car? Ben?’ He jumped on Ben for no reason.

Sometimes you didn’t know until after Mouse jumped on you whether he was hugging you or trying to kill you.

Ben tried to push Mouse off as quietly as he could. Eleanor threw a book at him. (A paper-back. God.)

Mouse ran out of the room, and Eleanor leaned out of her bed to close the door. She could practically open her dresser without getting out of bed.

‘I can’t help you,’ she said. It felt like letting go of them in deep water. ‘I can’t even help myself.’

Maisie’s face was hard.

‘Please don’t tell,’ Eleanor said.

Maisie and Ben exchanged looks again, then Maisie, still hard and gray, turned to Eleanor.

‘Will you let us use your stuff?’

‘What stuff?’ Eleanor asked.

‘Your comics,’ Ben said.

‘They’re not mine.’

‘Your makeup,’ Maisie said.

They’d probably catalogued her whole freaking bed. Her grapefruit box was packed with con-traband these days, all of it from Park … They were already into everything, she was sure.

‘You have to put it away when you’re done,’

Eleanor said. ‘And the comics aren’t mine, Ben, they’re borrowed. You have to keep them nice …

‘And if you get caught,’ she turned to Maisie,

‘Mom will take it all away. Especially the makeup. None of us will have it then.’

They both nodded.

‘I would have let you use some, anyway,’ she said to Maisie. ‘You just had to ask.’

‘Liar,’ Maisie said.

And she was right.

Park

Wednesdays were the worst.

No Eleanor. And his dad ignored him all through di

Park wondered if it was just the eyeliner that had done it – or if the eyeliner had been the pencil that broke the camel’s back. Like Park had spent sixteen years acting weak and weird and girlie, and his dad had borne it on his massive shoulders. And then one day, Park put on makeup, and that was it, his dad just shrugged him off.

Your dad loves you, Eleanor said. And she was right. But it didn’t matter. That was table stakes. His dad loved him in a completely oblig-atory way, like Park loved Josh.

His dad couldn’t stand the sight of him.

Park kept wearing eyeliner to school. And he kept washing it off when he got home. And his dad kept acting like he wasn’t there.

Eleanor

It was just a matter of time now. If Maisie and Ben knew, their mom would find out. Either the kids would tell her, or she’d find some clue Eleanor had overlooked, or something … It would be something.

Eleanor didn’t have anywhere to hide her secrets. In a box, on her bed. At Park’s house, a block away.

She was ru

CHAPTER 39 Eleanor

Thursday night after di

‘There are a couple songs you might like, ball-lady stuff. But the rest is really fast.’

‘Like punk?’ She wrinkled her nose. She could stand a few Dead Milkmen songs, but other than that, she hated Park’s punk music. ‘I feel like they’re yelling at me,’ she’d say when he tried to put punk on her mix tapes. ‘Stop yelling at me, Gle

‘That’s Henry Rollins.’

‘They all sound the same when they’re yelling at me.’

Lately, Park was really into New Wave music. Or post-punk or something. He went through bands like Eleanor went through books.

‘No,’ he said, ‘Elvis Costello is more music-al. Gentler. I’ll dub you a copy.’

‘Or you could just play it for me. Now.’

Park tilted his head. ‘That would involve going into my room.’

‘Okay,’ she said, not quite casually.

‘Okay?’ he asked. ‘Months of no, and now, okay?’

‘Okay,’ Eleanor said. ‘You’re always saying that your mom doesn’t care …’

‘My mom doesn’t care.’

‘So?’

Park stood up jerkily, gri

‘Fine,’ his dad said from under the sink. ‘Just don’t get anybody pregnant.’

That should have been embarrassing, but Park’s dad had a way of cutting past embarrassing. Eleanor wished he wasn’t ignoring them all the time.

Park’s mom probably let him have girls in his room because you could practically see into his room from the living room, and you had to walk by to get to the bathroom.

But, to Eleanor, it still felt incredibly private.

She couldn’t get over the fact that Park spent most of his time in this room horizontal. (It was only a ninety-degree difference, but imagining him that way blew all her fuses.) Also, he changed his clothes in here.

There was no place to sit but on his bed, which Eleanor wouldn’t consider. So they sat between his bed and his stereo, where there was just enough room to sit with their legs bent.

As soon as they sat down, Park started fast-forwarding through the Elvis Costello tape. He had stacks and stacks of tapes, and Eleanor pulled a few out to look at them.

‘Ah …’ Park said, pained.

‘What?’

‘Those’re alphabetized.’

‘It’s okay. I know the alphabet.’

‘Right.’ He looked embarrassed. ‘Sorry.

Whenever Call comes over, he always messes them up. Okay, this is the song I wanted you to hear. Listen.’

‘Call comes over?’

‘Yeah, sometimes.’ Park turned up the volume. ‘It’s been a while.’

‘Because now I just come over …’

‘Which is okay with me because I like you a lot more.’

‘But don’t you miss your other friends?’ she asked.

‘You’re not listening,’ he said.

‘Neither are you.’

He paused the tape, like he didn’t want to waste this song as background music. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘We’re talking about whether I miss Cal? I eat lunch with him almost every day.’

‘And he doesn’t mind that you spend the rest of your time with me now? None of your friends mind?’

Park ran his hand through his hair. ‘I still see them all at school … I don’t know, I don’t really miss them, I’ve never really missed anybody but you.’

‘But you don’t miss me now,’ she said.

‘We’re together all the time.’

‘Are you kidding? I miss you constantly.’

Even though Park washed his face as soon as he got home, the black around his eyes didn’t come off completely. It made everything he did lately seem more dramatic.

‘ That’s crazy,’ she said.

Park started laughing. ‘I know …’

She wanted to tell him about Maisie and Ben and their days being numbered, etc., but he wouldn’t understand, and what did she expect him to do?

Park pushed play.

‘What’s this song called?’ she asked.

“‘Alison.”’ Park

Park played Elvis Costello for her – and Joe Jackson, and Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers.

She teased him because it was all so pretty and melodic, and ‘in the same phylum as Hall & Oates,’ and he threatened to evict her from his room.

When his mom came to check on them, they were sitting with a hundred cassette tapes between them, and as soon as she walked away, Park leaned over and kissed Eleanor. It seemed like the best time not to get caught.

She was a little too far away, so he put his hand on her back and pulled her toward him. He tried to do it like it was something he did all the time, as if touching her someplace new wasn’t like discovering the Northwest Passage.

Eleanor came closer. She put her hands on the floor between them and leaned into him, which was so encouraging that he put his other hand on her waist. And then it was too much to be almost-but-not-really holding her. Park rocked forward onto his knees and pulled her tighter.