Eleanor & Park

‘I can,’ she said. ‘Life’s a bastard.’

He held her tighter, and pushed his face into her neck.

‘But it’s up to us …’ he said softly. ‘It’s up to us not to lose this.’ Eleanor

She sat right next to him for the rest of the trip –

even though there wasn’t a seat belt, and she had to sit with the stick shift between her legs. She figured it was still lots safer than riding in the back of Richie’s Isuzu.

They stopped at another truck stop and Park bought her Cherry Coke and beef jerky. He called his parents collect – she still couldn’t believe they were okay with this.

‘My dad’s okay,’ he said. ‘I think my mom’s freaking out.’

‘Have they heard from my mom or …

anybody?’

‘No. Or, at least, they didn’t mention it.’

Park asked her if she wanted to call her uncle.

She didn’t.

‘I smell like Steve’s garage,’ she said. ‘My uncle’s going to think I’m a drug dealer.’

Park laughed. ‘I think you spilled beer on your shirt. Maybe he’ll just think you’re an alcoholic.’

She looked down at her shirt. There was a smear of blood from when she’d cut her hand on her bed – and something crusty on the shoulder, probably snot from all that crying.

‘Here,’ Park said. He was taking off his sweatshirt. Then his T-shirt. He handed the Tshirt to her. It was green and said ‘Prefab Sprout.’

‘I can’t take this,’ she said, watching him pull his sweatshirt back on over his bare chest. ‘It’s new.’ Plus it probably wouldn’t fit.

‘You can give it back later.’

‘Close your eyes,’ she said.

‘Of course,’ Park said softly. He looked away.

There was no one else in the parking lot.

Eleanor slouched down and put Park’s T-shirt on underneath her own, then pulled the dirty shirt off. That’s how she changed in gym class. His shirt was about as tight as her gymsuit … but it smelled clean, like Park.

‘Okay,’ she said.

He looked back at her, and his smile changed.

‘Keep it.’

When they got to Mi

‘Is it easy?’ she asked him when he got back in the truck.

‘Like Sunday morning,’ he said. ‘We’re really close.’

CHAPTER 54 Park

He was more nervous about his driving once they got into the city. Driving in St Paul was nothing like driving in Omaha.

Eleanor was reading the map for him, but she’d never read a map outside of class before –

and between the two of them they kept making wrong turns.

‘I’m sorry,’ Eleanor kept saying.

‘It’s okay,’ Park said, glad she was sitting right next to him. ‘I’m not in any hurry.’

She pressed her hand into the top of his leg.

‘I’ve been thinking …’ she said.

‘Yeah?’

‘I don’t want you to come inside when we get there.’

‘You mean you want to talk to them by yourself?’

‘No … Well, yeah. But I mean … I don’t want you to wait for me.’

He tried to look down at her, but he was afraid he’d miss his turn again.

‘What?’ he said. ‘No. What if they don’t want you to stay?’

‘Then they can figure out how to get me home – I’ll be their problem. Maybe that’ll give me more time to talk to them about everything.’

‘But …’ I’m not ready for you to stop being my problem.

‘It makes more sense, Park. If you leave soon, you can still get home by dark.’

‘But if I leave soon …’ His voice dropped. ‘I leave soon.’

‘We have to say goodbye anyway,’ she said.

‘Does it matter if it’s now or a few hours from now or tomorrow morning?’

‘Are you kidding?’ He looked down at her, hoping he’d miss his turn. ‘Yes.’ Eleanor

‘It just makes more sense,’ she said. And then she bit her lip. The only way she was going to get through any of this was by force of will.

The houses were starting to look familiar –

big gray and white clapboard houses set far back on their lawns. Eleanor’s whole family had come up here for Easter the year after her dad left. Her uncle and his wife were atheists, but it was still a really fun trip.

They didn’t have kids of their own – probably by choice, Eleanor thought. Probably because they knew cute kids grow up into ugly, problem-atic teenagers.

But Uncle Geoff had invited her here.

He wanted her to come, at least for a few months. Maybe she didn’t have to tell him everything right away, maybe he’d just think she was early.

‘Is that it?’ Park asked.

He stopped in front of a gray-blue house with a willow tree in the front yard.

‘Yeah,’ she said. She recognized the house.

She recognized her uncle’s Volvo in the driveway.

Park stepped on the gas.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Just … around the block,’ he said. Park

He drove around the block. For all the good it did him. Then he parked a few houses down from her uncle’s, so they could see the house from the car.

Eleanor couldn’t look away from it. Eleanor

She had to say goodbye to him. Now. And she didn’t know how. Park

‘You remember my phone number right?’

‘867-5309.’

‘Seriously, Eleanor.’

‘Seriously, Park. I’m never going to forget your phone number.’

‘Call me as soon as you can, okay? Tonight.

Collect. And give me your uncle’s number. Or, if he doesn’t want you to call, send the number to me in a letter – in one of the many, many letters you’re going to write me.’

‘He might send me home.’

‘No.’ Park let go of the gearshift and took her hand. ‘You’re not going back there. If your uncle sends you home, come to my house. My parents will help us figure it out. My dad already said that they would.’

Eleanor’s head fell forward.

‘He’s not going to send you home,’ Park said.

‘He’s going to help …’ She nodded deliberately at the floor. ‘And he’s going to let you accept fre-quent, private, long-distance phone calls …’

She was still.

‘Hey,’ Park said, trying to lift up her chin.

‘Eleanor.’ Eleanor

Stupid Asian kid.

Stupid, beautiful Asian kid.

Thank God she couldn’t make her mouth work right now, because if she could there’d be no end to the melodramatic garbage she’d say to him.

She was pretty sure she’d thank him for saving her life. Not just yesterday, but, like, practically every day since they’d met. Which made her feel like the dumbest, weakest girl. If you can’t save your own life, is it even worth saving?

There’s no such thing as handsome princes, she told herself.

There’s no such thing as happily ever after.

She looked up at Park. Into his golden green eyes.

You saved my life, she tried to tell him. Not forever, not for good. Probably just temporarily.

But you saved my life, and now I’m yours. The me that’s me right now is yours. Always. Park

‘I don’t know how to say goodbye to you,’ she said.

He smoothed her hair off her face. He’d never seen her so fair. ‘Then don’t.’

‘But I have to go …’

‘So go,’ he said, with his hands on her cheeks. ‘But don’t say goodbye. It’s not goodbye.’

She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

‘That’s so lame.’

‘Seriously? You can’t cut me five minutes of slack?’

‘That’s what people say – “It’s not goodbye”

– when they’re too afraid to face what they’re really feeling. I’m not going to see you tomorrow, Park – I don’t know when I’ll see you again. That deserves more than “It’s not goodbye.”’

‘I’m not afraid to face what I’m feeling,’ he said.

‘Not you,’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘Me.’

‘You,’ he said, putting his arms around her and promising himself that it wouldn’t be the last time, ‘are the bravest person I know.’

She shook her head again, like she was trying to shake off the tears.

‘Just kiss me goodbye,’ she whispered.

Only for today, he thought. Not ever. Eleanor

You think that holding someone hard will bring them closer. You think that you can hold them so hard that you’ll still feel them, embossed on you, when you pull away.