Eleanor (5 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

D
avid met Eleanor in the library after school and she looked over his recent quizzes and saw how he was in trouble. She took the oldest and worked each problem out with him and then gave him problems of her own fabrication to practice on. They worked for ninety minutes before the janitor chased them out.

“Thanks, Eleanor,” David said, packing up his book bag. “I think I'm catching on. A little. I mean, I got that one right.”

“It's not just the math, you've got to visualize electrons and atoms and molecules. See how they interact, attract, and repulse.”

David groaned.

“Also, the stoichiometry gets harder. Those today were from a couple weeks ago.”

“I've got to pass the test this week,” he said. “I'm doomed.”

“No, you can do it,” she said. “You only need a B-; that's not hard.”

“Easy for you to say,” he said. “I'm never going to be a chemist. I'm going to be a writer. Why do I need to know about acids and bases?”

“I'll help you every day,” she promised.

“You will?”

Eleanor nodded. “Re-read the earlier chapters again if you can.”

“Okay,” he said. “Thanks.”

Eleanor collected her things, and they left the library together.

“Wait, I'll walk you home,” he said.

“Maybe next time,” she said and slipped away before he stopped her cold.

She ducked behind the side of a building with a deft leap and a sprint. When David opened the door a moment later and surveyed the grounds, she was nowhere to be seen.

“I'll never figure you, Eleanor Anders,” she heard him say under his breath.

Eleanor had neglected to call Tabitha about staying late after school. She knew her mother would be worried. But buoyed on happy legs, she hurriedly skipped home, breaking into a run when she thought no one was watching.

“Where have you been, young lady?” her mother said when she came in.

“I stayed after school with David Venn,” she shouted and hopped on her toes. Tabitha's anger melted, and she patted the sofa next to her.

“Tell me all about it, cupcake.”

Tabitha listened carefully to Eleanor's detailed description of Mr. Graham's meeting and her daughter's dialogue with the boy in the hall. Eleanor's excitement was contagious, but she could feel her mother's cautiousness.

“He always struck me as a bright kid. Why is he struggling in chemistry?”

“He's never had it before. Chemistry is like math that works wrong. A lot of kids struggle with it.”

“It's good of you to help him.”

“It's what friends do,” she said. “They help each other.”

“Yes, they do,” agreed Tabitha.

“And we love each other,” Eleanor added.

“That was a long time ago, cupcake,” her mother warned. “And love means something different to grown-ups than it does to kids.”

“I'm not a kid,” she said.

Tabitha looked in her daughter's eyes. “No, you're not. But you don't know everything yet. Time doesn't make you wise; experience does. Be careful. This is new territory.”

“I will,” she said.

“You know he might just want the chemistry help and not a girlfriend.”

“We can be friends.”

“Of course you can. I just don't want you getting hurt.”

“I said I'll be careful.”

“Okay,” said Tabitha. “Let's eat something. And call me next time, understand?”

“Yes, I do.”

That week, every day after school, the two met in the library and studied for Friday's test. By the third day, they fell into a comfortable routine of studying for fifty minutes, then taking a ten minute break before another half hour of problems.

“You're going to get that B. I'm sure,” she said.

They were drinking cokes in the cafeteria, David's treat. Mrs. Church, the lunch lady, regarded them suspiciously before locking the kitchen and leaving the school.

“It is making loads more sense,” he said. “You're a great teacher.”

“How goes the rodeo practice?”

“I'll skip it this week,” he said. “But it's going well. Mr. Blake says I'm the best in the school.”

“Isn't Russell Liddle in the shooting competition, too?”

“Yeah. Pistols. Same as me.”

“Is he still being a jerk to you?” Eleanor already knew the answer. She'd overheard Russell talking about David behind his back for weeks. He hadn't forgotten the mouthful of grass that summer.

“He's okay to me on the range,” David said. “I mean, what can he say? The targets speak for themselves.”

Eleanor nodded.

“Since when does the Fall School Rodeo have shooting and cooking contests?”

“We had a wheelchair kid a while ago. He's gone now, moved away, but the school thought it would be good for our image to include him. He could shoot so they added shooting. The cooking, that's just so the Home-Ec kids can burn bread.”

“You never talk like this in school,” David said.

Eleanor blushed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you're like a totally different person with me than you are in school. You hardly ever say a word in class. The most I've heard you say since I got here was the first day when you told Mrs. Hart to check her Shoshone history.”

“I don't know,” Eleanor said softly.

“Now don't go into your shell,” David said. “I like who you are with me. And not with me. You're genuine, Eleanor. That's what I've always admired in you. Nothing fake.”

Eleanor felt her lip tremble.

“What did I say?” David said. “Are you okay?”

“You don't know me,” she said. “Not at all.”

“Yes, I do. You're Eleanor Anders, my oldest friend in the world. The best person in this entire God-awful state. The only reason I don't mind coming to school.”

“I'm sorry I'm a different person sometimes.”

“Don't apologize, silly,” he said. “And please don't cry. My mom says everyone is different with everyone.”

Eleanor glanced at the wall. “We have to get back. I promised you a B by Friday.”

She walked away. She could feel his confused eyes follow her into the library before he came in after.

When they were done, David again offered to walk Eleanor home.

“It's cold,” he said, like that made company a requirement.

“I've been cold before. I know cold. I'll be fine.”

“Are you mad at me?” he asked. “You are. You're mad at me.”

“No,” she said. “I'm just being weird. Like usual. Ask anyone. Eleanor Anders is weird.”

“I have heard rumors,” he said and then froze.

“What?” demanded Eleanor. “What have you heard?”

“Just stupid stuff,” he said. “When people in Wyoming don't understand someone, they make up stories.”

“Tall tales?” Eleanor said.

“Exactly.”

“What was it? Who was it?” Eleanor demanded. Her intensity made David's eyes grow wide. Suddenly, she felt the feral urge of fight or flight. Her muscles twitched, her mouth grew dry. She turned away and made herself breathe calmly.

“I'm sorry,” David said. “I'm dumb for telling you. It was Robby Guide. He said something about you being a witch or a ghost or something. It was all crap and I told him so.”

He put his arm on her shoulder and turned her around. “It's crap. I told him if he said anything like that again, I'd sock him.”

“What did he say I did?”

“We don't want to talk about this, do we?”

“Just tell me. I need to know.”

“He said—this is so stupid—that in eighth grade, you were knocked out by a softball and when you came to, your eyes were different colors. Only for a minute or two. He said one of your brown eyes turned blue, and the other white. He must have been smoking dope.”

“I didn't see the ball coming. It was a foul. If I'd seen the ball coming, if anyone had warned me, it'd have never touched me.”

“I used to live here, and I still don't understand the kids in this school.”

“It doesn't bother you that you're seen with me?”

“No,” he said firmly. “Who's looking anyway? Who cares?”

Eleanor pointed across the parking lot. David squinted and held his hand over his eyes. “Who's that?”

“Russell Liddle, Tanner Nelson, and their friends. And over there”—Eleanor pointed to a car driving slowly away—“is Alexi Kerr and Crystal Tate. Barbara Pennon was there earlier.”

“So the whole class then,” he said. “No, I don't care. I didn't even notice them. With your eyesight, you should be on the shooting team.”

“Never,” she said.

David passed the Friday test with a solid B, beating his required B- by six points. He was thrilled. He could do the math because Eleanor had showed him the tricks, but he didn't understand the theory behind it. Mr. Graham was quick to remind him that he still had much to do to reverse his previous scores and theory would be a major part of it. Still, he got to stay on the shooting team, and Eleanor and David cut their tutoring sessions down to twice a week so he could practice.

David had skipped lunches the week before the test to rework his failed labs—a concession Mr. Graham had made only after Mr. Blake had made a personal appeal to him “on behalf of the school.” The week after the test, David sat with Eleanor at lunch. When she wouldn't join him at his usual table he made a big show of carrying his tray through the cafeteria to her and sat down. Today he was waiting for her when she came in, and held her chair out for her when she sat down. Hidden behind her hair, she heard the unmistakable hush of all her classmates noticing the act.

“You're embarrassing me,” she whispered and sat down in the offered chair.

“They're going to talk no matter what. Might as well give them something to talk about.”

“I don't like people looking at me. I don't like them noticing me.”

“Even me?”

She sipped her milk through a straw. “You're not people.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Do you remember when you made that moose call, and that big moose walked right up to your door?

“You wanted to ride him.”

“I think I could have. You practically speak moose.”

She laughed unexpectedly, spitting milk over her lunch.

“I'd think ketchup would have been a better choice for fries, but milk works, too,” said David. He mopped up the spill, chortling under his breath.

“Remember when you imitated my mom and did that whole
Daffy Duck thing? I spat milk out my nose that day. You did her perfectly.”

After lunch, Barbara Pennon cornered Eleanor in the hall. Crystal Tate was with her and Penelope, fresh from a middle-school bathroom. Crystal stank of horses and leather; Barbara of cheap perfume and cigarettes; Penelope of vomit. They were color coordinated in Barbie doll pink. It worked on Barbara with the blond hair and slim figure and big bust, but it was a wreck on Crystal with her rugged frame and short chestnut hair. Nothing would look good on Penelope but a straw hat and crows, thought Eleanor.

“What's the deal, Eleanor?” asked Crystal.

“Come on. Fess up. What's going on with you and David Venn?” said Penelope with an edge in her voice that made Eleanor uneasy, more uneasy.

“Leave me alone,” she said.

“Don't be that way,” said Barbara. “The whole school's talking about it. We just want to know.”

“It's none of your business.”

“You giving it to him?” said Barbara. “Is that what he sees in you? He can do better. Someone should tell him that.”

It came on Eleanor instinctively; a muscle memory, a sudden recollection. Her throat tensed. Her vocal chords contorted. Her jaw jutted out. From her mouth came a sudden sharp bark before her teeth snapped in Barbara's face.

The girls staggered back. Barbara tripped over her backpack and fell on her boney butt. The others stared slack-jawed and wide-eyed. The canine yap had silenced the chatter in the hall. Everyone searched for an animal loose in the school. Unbelieving eyes fell on Eleanor and then looked elsewhere.

She ducked her head and walked away. She took a deep breath and got a hold of herself. She relaxed, but her throat was too taut with adrenalin, and she dared not speak.

She walked to the office and scribbled a note claiming laryngitis and wanting to go home. After a call to Tabitha, Eleanor was checked out. She walked home crying.

CHAPTER NINE

T
abitha insisted that Eleanor return to school the next day.

“Act like everything's fine,” she said. “Those girls will leave you alone and if they don't, just walk away.”

Eleanor shook her head. “Why now?”

“You weren't ready for it. You're taking chances with David. You're stepping out of the shadows. Maybe you should let it rest for a while.”

“No,” she said. “He needs my help.”

“Okay,” Tabitha said heavily. “But you've got to be more careful, cupcake.”

Tabitha rocked the shaking girl in her arms for a long time.

When she'd calmed down, Tabitha said, “I bet you're hungry.”

Eleanor nodded.

“Get those steaks out,” she said. “You need protein.”

The steaks were old, left over from her Nebraska trip. She thawed two, knowing that Tabitha wouldn't have any. Lately her stomach rebelled against anything but the blandest food.

After dinner, the two played cards on the kitchen table. Eleanor could see that Tabitha was tired, but she insisted on the game.

“You know, sweetie, I'm not always going to be here,” said Tabitha, putting down a two.

“Don't talk that way,” Eleanor said, drawing a card.

“Even without cancer, parents go before their kids. It's okay.”

Eleanor put down a jack. Tabitha took it.

“We've got to think about it, cupcake. You still have three years of school.”

“I don't need school,” she said.

“Yes, you do,” she said. “I've been thinking that it's a good thing for you to stretch out a little and interact more with the other kids. I know you're scared and suspicious, and you should be. But you need to learn about them so you can be among them the rest of your life.”

Eleanor drew another card. She pretended to concentrate on her options and then finally laid down a seven.

“You're a fine girl,” Tabitha said. “You'll be a fine woman. You can be anything you want to be.”

Eleanor shot her mother a look. When it dawned on Tabitha, they both broke out laughing.

“Do you want the seven?” asked Eleanor.

“No.” Tabitha drew a card.

“Momma, I don't want to think about it. We're okay now. That's all that matters. When things change, we'll see where we are then, okay? Plans just lead to disappointment.”

“That's not true, Eleanor,” said Tabitha. “We should have a plan. Just in case.”

“Not tonight, Momma,” Eleanor said.

“Okay, cupcake. Gin.”

The school was abuzz with Eleanor's yap. If there was any doubt where the sound had come from before, Barbara, Crystal, and Penelope had made sure everyone knew that Eleanor had gone feral after being teased. She heard the talk in the halls before she was even in the school. She felt the stares and noted how the others stepped out of her way when she moved to her locker.

Her mother had told her to act like nothing had happened, and if that wasn't possible, to act like she'd been in a fight and won it. “Wear it like a trophy,” she'd told her.

She was trying. In English class she stared down Barbara and Penelope by retreating deep into her own skull, imagining her eyes to be medieval arrow slits in a fortress wall. Safe behind yards of stone, she froze her expression with an unnatural stillness that finally made all the gawkers look away.

David tried to communicate sympathy and curiosity in a single look that Eleanor acknowledged with only a twitch of her lip, a brief chink in the wall, a smile of thanks.

“Friday there will be no school, as you know,” said Mrs. Hart. “It's the Fall School Rodeo at the Center and I expect everyone to be there to support our Cowboys. I won't be taking roll, but I will notice if anyone isn't there.”

Mrs. Hart looked quizzically at the class, perhaps sensing something she didn't know.

“Let's discuss Room 101,” she said picking up her copy of
1984.
She'd promised to be done with the book by Halloween next week.

“Russell Liddle,” Mrs. Hart said, making the boy jerk up from his doodling. “What does Room 101 say about the state's omniscience?”

“Um,” he said. “That it wants some?”

A couple of students laughed, including David. Russell spun to face him.

“What are you laughing at, dick-weed?” he said.

“Mr. Liddle,” warned Mrs. Hart.

David looked right at Russell. The class fell silent. Even Mrs. Hart paused.

“It's just hilarious that Mrs. Hart would ask
you
about omniscience,” he said. “Talk about a trick question.”

Snickers and titters broke the stillness.

Russell struggled for a comeback. He finally said, “What do you know?”

“Much more than you,” David said. “But of course I have an advantage. I can read.”

“That's enough, you two,” Mrs. Hart broke in before it got ugly. Russell was fuming. David ignored Russell's hate-filled stares and spoke instead to Mrs. Hart.

“It's one of the most frightening things about the state,” he said. “Through its spies and tricks, the state knows every secret. It can turn its knowledge against anyone by discovering their deepest fear and making them face it.”

“Omniscience means ‘all-knowing,'” Mrs. Hart said as a way of confirming David's remark and bringing the rest of the class, Russell specifically, along with the discussion.

Mrs. Hart lectured about the book for the remainder of the period, answering her own questions rather than throwing them to the class and risking another altercation.

Russell stalked David for the rest of the day. Eleanor held back from everyone as usual. The school's earlier interest in her bizarre coyote outbreak was lost in the pageant of David and Russell's growing feud. Within an hour, the entire tenth grade knew about it, and by the end of the school day, it had seeped into the gossip of the other grades as well.

David skipped lunch that day to complete a final lab assignment ensuring his ability to compete the next day at the rodeo shooting tournament. Eleanor sat alone at her usual table and listened to the talk.

“I'm going to get that son of a bitch,” Russell bragged to his knot of friends huddled around their table. Eleanor looked up when she heard the telltale snick of an automatic knife. Russell covertly lifted it above the table to show the others. “This will get his attention, the jackass,” he said. The others snickered. Eleanor felt the animal stir in her again.

“Just beat him tomorrow,” said Tanner. “He's always going on about how good a shot he is thanks to his father. Beat him tomorrow and tell him you know why his Dad's still in the army—he hasn't passed basic marksmanship yet.”

The others laughed.

“And don't forget to mention the cheap ammo—it's all his white trash family can afford,” added another. “Living in that run-down, rat-bait trailer.”

“I live in a trailer,” said Russell.

“I mean,” stammered the boy. “You've got land around yours. It's property. They live in a slum.”

“I'm going to get him,” Russell said. “Maybe today. Break his fingers so he can't shoot tomorrow.”

“Okay,” said Tanner enthusiastically.

“He'll tell.”

“The hell he will,” said Russell. “I'll warn him what'll happen if he does.”

Eleanor made it to the bathroom before she threw up.

After classes, Eleanor waited for David outside the school.

“Eleanor,” said David. “What are you doing here? Today isn't a study day.”

“I thought I'd like to meet Wendy finally,” she said quietly.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, that'd be great.”

“We missed the bus,” she said. “Let's get going.”

Autumn had come to Jamesford. The air was cold and dry. There'd been one half-hearted snowstorm but the sun had driven it away in a day. Eleanor smelled the fall scents blowing from the farms up the canyon, mingling with the earthen fleshy tang of freshly carved pumpkins put out a few days early for the trick-or-treaters. As they crossed into town, the smell of passing traffic and cheeseburgers replaced the rural smells of final cut hay and falling leaves.

“Let's go this way,” Eleanor said by the Wood Carver's Gallery. “I want to show you something.”

David followed her behind the studio. Eleanor had heard the bullies following them. She hoped to draw them behind the stores through the maze of hidden paths and ways that Eleanor used to remain unseen, and where she could shepherd David home safely. She'd let them see the detour behind the art gallery, but once out of sight, she grabbed David's hand and sprinted away through a torn fence and across a vacant lot.

“What are we doing?” David said, laughing. “Slow down. I can hardly keep up.”

She took David behind a rusting car on cinderblocks and pointed the way they'd come.

Russell and his gang came out of the alley they'd just left.

“Oh,” he said.

Crouching low, Eleanor led David around the car and into a half-fenced yard. Careful to avoid the unpicked pumpkins in an unattended vegetable garden, they came out onto a paved street, and then quickly made the last leg to David's house.

“How did you know they were there?” David asked.

“How did you not know?” said Eleanor.

“I guess I should have expected it,” David said.

“Davie!” called a little girl from the trailer door. She had dark black hair like David but hers fell straight and was tamed. She shared his pale complexion and wide eyes. She smiled with a missing tooth and then retreated behind the threshold when she saw Eleanor.

“Eleanor, this is Wendy,” David said. “Wendy, this is Eleanor.”

“Hi,” she said. “My friends call me Wens sometimes.”

“Hello, Wens,” said Eleanor, making Wendy giggle.

“So this is Eleanor,” said a woman opening the door wide.

“Hello, Mrs. Venn,” said Eleanor. More than years had aged David's mother. Eleanor remembered the young housewife, still in the glow of a new marriage. Now there was a mother, worried and weary, fastening the last button on her supermarket checker uniform.

“Come in, you two,” she said. “It's too cold.”

Eleanor followed David up the wooden steps and into the trailer's front room. The kitchen area was to the right. To the left behind a couch was a narrow hallway that had to lead to the bedrooms

“Wendy is five years old,” David said. “She's going to be a pony when she grows up.”

“A pony?” asked Eleanor.

“Maybe a unicorn,” she said. “I haven't decided.”

“She's a big fan of My Little Pony,” David explained.

“Eleanor, you've grown up to be a beauty,” said Mrs. Venn, stirring a pot of pasta on the stove. “How's your mother?”

“Tabitha is still ill,” said Eleanor. “But she says she's getting better.”

“Tell her hello, for us,” she said.

“I will, Mrs. Venn,” said Eleanor.

“Call me Karen,” she said.

Eleanor nodded and let her hair fall. She glanced at some hanging pictures. David's father was pictured in many of them.

“My dad's still overseas,” David said. “He's in Afghanistan now. Another tour. He might come home for Christmas.”

“Maybe,” corrected his mother.

“Maybe,” said David. There was something in his voice that made Eleanor look at him.

“I made some spaghetti,” Karen said. “As soon as the bread's out of the oven, we can eat.”

“We eat early so mom can get to work on time,” David said. Whatever Eleanor was looking for was gone as he offered Eleanor a glass of milk.

“You work at Sherman's Grocery?”

“Yes, I'm a checker. It's kind of fun. I get to meet everyone in town. It's like a high school reunion every day.”

“I should call my mom,” Eleanor said.

“Oh, there's an extension in my bedroom,” said Mrs. Venn. “Last door down the hall.”

Mrs. Venn's bedroom was sparse. The entire house was. It was neat, clean of dirt and dust, but there was no mistaking the poverty of its furnishings. She noted David's room, the bathroom, and a small room cluttered with stuffed animals that had to be Wendy's. She memorized their positions so she could find them in the dark. Then Eleanor called home.

“Be careful,” Tabitha said.

“Always, Mom,” said Eleanor. “Always.”

Eleanor was quiet at dinner. She took the least amount of food she could and then only nibbled at it. She felt like she was stealing from them.

“You never eat much,” David said. “Don't you get hungry?”

“Sometimes,” Eleanor said. “Sometimes I eat a lot. It depends on what I've been doing.”

“Our house burned down,” said Wendy suddenly.

“She means our house burned down in Georgia,” David said.

“That's why you came back?” asked Eleanor.

“'Surance won't pay,” said Wendy. “Assholes.”

“Wendy!” said Mrs. Venn. “Mind your mouth, young lady.”

Wendy twisted her forehead rethinking what she said. “Oh, sorry,” she said.

“Yeah, they're being real dicks about it,” David said. His mother shot him a look.

“How'd it happen?” Eleanor asked.

“Something in the garage,” he said. “They're still investigating.”

“Oh,” Eleanor said, but she had no idea what it all meant.

“It gave us an opportunity to come back to the country,” Mrs. Venn said. “Fresh air, no traffic jams.”