‘I don’t know.’

‘I wish I could walk you home.’

‘You can walk me to the door.’ He did.

‘Will you tell your mom I said goodbye? I don’t want her to think I’m rude.’

‘Yeah.’

Eleanor stepped out onto his porch.

‘Hey,’ he said. It came out hard and frustrated. ‘I told you to smile because you’re pretty when you smile.’

She walked to the bottom of the steps, then looked back at him. ‘It’d be better if you thought I was pretty when I don’t.’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ he said, but she was walking away.

When Park went inside, his mother came out to smile at him.

‘Your Eleanor seems nice,’ she said.

He nodded and went to his room. No, he thought, falling onto his bed. No, she doesn’t.

Eleanor

He was probably going to break up with her tomorrow. Whatever. At least she wouldn’t have to meet his dad. God, what must his dad be like? He looked just like Tom Selleck; Eleanor had seen a family portrait sitting on their TV cabinet. Park in grade school, by the way? Extremely cute.

Like, Webster cute. The whole family was cute.

Even his white brother.

His mom looked exactly like a doll. In The Wizard of Oz – the book, not the movie –

Dorothy goes to this place called the Dainty China Country, and all the people are tiny and perfect. When Eleanor was little and her mom read her the story, Eleanor had thought the Dainty China people were Chinese. But they were actually ceramic, or they’d turn ceramic, if you tried to sneak one back to Kansas.

Eleanor imagined Park’s dad, Tom Selleck, tucking his Dainty China person into his flak jacket and sneaking her out of Korea.

Park’s mom made Eleanor feel like a giant.

Eleanor couldn’t be that much taller than her, maybe three or four inches. But Eleanor was so much bigger. If you were an alien who came to Earth to study its life forms, you wouldn’t even think the two of them were the same species.

When Eleanor was around girls like that –

like Park’s mom, like Tina, like most of the girls in the neighborhood – she wondered where they put their organs. Like, how could you have a stomach and intestines and kidneys, and still wear such tiny jeans? Eleanor knew that she was fat, but she didn’t feel that fat. She could feel her bones and muscles just underneath all the chub, and they were big, too. Park’s mom could wear Eleanor’s ribcage like a roomy vest.

Park was probably going to break up with her tomorrow, and not even because she was huge.

He was going to break up with her because she was a huge mess. Because she couldn’t even be around regular people without freaking out.

It was just too much. Meeting his pretty, perfect mom. Seeing his normal, perfect house.

Eleanor hadn’t known there were houses like that in this crappy neighborhood – houses with wall-to-wall carpeting and little baskets of potpourri everywhere. She didn’t know there were families like that. The only upside to living in this effed-up neighborhood was that everybody else was effed up, too. The other kids might hate Eleanor for being big and weird, but they weren’t going to hate on her for having a broken family and a broke-down house. That was kind of the rule around here.

Park’s family didn’t fit. They were the Cleav-ers. And he’d told her that his grandparents lived in the house next door, which had flower boxes, for Christ’s sake. His family was practically the Waltons.

Eleanor’s family had been messed up even before Richie came around and sent everything straight to hell.

She would never belong in Park’s living room. She never felt like she belonged anywhere, except for when she was lying on her bed, pretending to be somewhere else.

CHAPTER 22

Eleanor

When Eleanor got to their seat the next morning, Park didn’t stand up to let her in. He just scooted over. It didn’t seem like he wanted to look at her; he handed her some comic books, then turned away.

Steve was being really loud. Maybe he was always this loud. When Park was holding her hand, Eleanor couldn’t even hear herself think.

Everyone in the back of the bus was singing the Nebraska fight song. There was some big game coming up this weekend, against Oklahoma or Oregon or something. Mr Stessman was giving them extra credit all week for wearing red. You wouldn’t think Mr Stessman would be prone to all this Husker crap, but it seemed like nobody was immune.

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 running from every direction. Eleanor ran, too.

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, spinning into the air and kicking Steve right in the mouth. The whole crowd gasped.

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 an assistant 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, f**king David Carradine.’ And ‘Fuck David Carradine – f**king 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.

Park’s mom was so mad, she wouldn’t come get him. She called his dad at work. When his dad showed up, the principal thought he was Steve’s dad.

‘Actually,’ his dad said, pointing at Park,

‘that one’s mine.’

The school nurse said Park didn’t have to go the hospital, but he looked pretty bad. He had a black eye and probably a broken nose.

Steve did have to go the hospital. His tooth was loose, and the nurse was pretty sure he’d broken a finger.

Park waited in the office with ice on his face while his dad talked to the principal. The secret-ary brought him a Sprite from the teachers’

lounge.

His dad didn’t say anything until they were driving.

‘Taekwando is the art of self-defense,’ he said sternly.