Authors: Rainbow Rowell
At Eleanor’s old school, she’d
thought it had sucked that they
had to wear gym
shorts
. (Eleanor
hated her legs even more than she
hated the rest of her body.) But at
North they had to wear gym
suits
.
Polyester onesies. The bottom was
red, and the top was red-and-
white striped, and it all zipped up
the front.
‘Red isn’t your color, Bozo,’
Tina had said the first time
Eleanor suited up. The other girls
all laughed, even the black girls,
who hated Tina. Laughing at
Eleanor was Dr King’s mountain.
After Tina pushed past her,
Eleanor took her time getting on
the bus – but she still got to her
seat before that stupid Asian kid.
Which meant she’d have to get up
to let him have his spot by the
window.
Which
would
be
awkward. It was all awkward.
Every time the bus hit a pothole,
Eleanor practically fell in the guy’s
lap.
Maybe somebody else on the
bus would drop out or die or
something and she’d be able move
away from him.
At least he didn’t ever talk to
her. Or look at her.
At least she didn’t
think
he did;
Eleanor never looked at him.
Sometimes she looked at his
shoes. He had cool shoes. And
sometimes she looked to see what
he was reading …
Always comic books.
Eleanor
never
brought
anything to read on the bus. She
didn’t want Tina, or anybody else,
to catch her with her head down.
Park
It felt wrong to sit next to
somebody every day and not talk
to her. Even if she was weird.
(Jesus, was she weird. Today she
was dressed like a Christmas tree,
with all this stuff pinned to her
clothes, shapes cut out of fabric,
ribbon …) The ride home
couldn’t go fast enough. Park
couldn’t wait to get away from
her, away from everybody.
‘Dude, where’s your dobak?’
He was trying to eat dinner
alone in his room, but his little
brother wouldn’t let him. Josh
stood in the doorway, already
dressed
for
taekwando
and
inhaling a chicken leg.
‘Dad’s going to be here, like
now,’ Josh said through the
drumstick, ‘and he’s gonna shit if
you’re not ready.’
Their mom came up behind
Josh and thumped him on the
head. ‘Don’t cuss, dirty mouth.’
She had to reach up to do it. Josh
was his father’s son; he was
already at least seven inches taller
than their mom – and three inches
taller than Park.
Which sucked.
Park pushed Josh out the door
and slammed it. So far, Park’s
strategy for maintaining his status
as older brother despite their
growing size differential was to
pretend he could still kick Josh’s
ass.
H e
could
still beat him at
taekwando – but only because
Josh got impatient with any sport
where his size wasn’t an obvious
advantage.
The
high
school
football coach had already started
coming to Josh’s Peewee games.
Park changed into his dobak,
wondering if he was going to have
to start wearing Josh’s hand-me-
downs pretty soon. Maybe he
could take a Sharpie to all Josh’s
Husker football T-shirts and make
them say Husker Dü. Or maybe it
wouldn’t even be an issue – Park
might never get any taller than five
foot four. He might never grow
out of the clothes he had now.
He put on his Chuck Taylors
and took his dinner into the
kitchen, eating over the counter.
His mom was trying to get gravy
out of Josh’s white jacket with a
washcloth.
‘Mindy?’
That’s how Park’s dad came
home every night, like the dad in a
sit-com. (‘
Lucy?
’) And his mom
would call out from wherever she
was, ‘In here!’
Except she said it, ‘In hee-ya!’
Because she was apparently never
going to stop sounding like she
just got here yesterday from
Korea. Sometimes Park thought
she kept the accent on purpose,
because his dad liked it. But his
mom tried so hard to fit in in
every other way … If she could
sound like she grew up right
around the corner, she would.
His dad barreled into the
kitchen and scooped his mom into
his arms. They did this every
night, too. Full-on make-out
sessions, no matter who was
around. It was like watching Paul
Bunyan make out with one of
those
It’s a Small World
dolls.
Park grabbed his brother’s
sleeve. ‘Come on, let’s go.’ They
could wait in the Impala. Their
dad would be out in a minute, as
soon as he’d changed into his
giant dobak.
Eleanor
She still couldn’t get used to
eating dinner so early.
When did this all start? In the
old house, they’d all eaten
together, even Richie. Eleanor
wasn’t complaining about not
having to eat with Richie … But
now it was like their mom wanted
them all out of the way before he
came home.
She even made him a totally
different dinner. The kids would
get grilled cheese, and Richie
would get steak. Eleanor wasn’t
complaining about the grilled
cheese either – it was a nice break
from bean soup, and beans and
rice, and huevos y frijoles …
After dinner, Eleanor usually
disappeared into her room to read,
but the little kids always went
outside. What were they going to
do when it got cold – and when it
started getting dark early? Would
they all hide in the bedroom? It
was crazy.
Diary of Anne Frank
crazy.
Eleanor climbed up onto her
bunk bed and got out her
stationery box. That dumb gray cat
was sleeping in her bed again. She
pushed him off.
She opened the grapefruit box
and flipped through her stationery.
She kept meaning to write letters
to her friends from her old school.
She hadn’t gotten to say goodbye
to anybody when she left. Her
mom had shown up out of the
blue and pulled Eleanor out of
class, all ‘Get your things, you’re
coming home.’
Her mom had been so happy.
And Eleanor had been so
happy.
They went straight to North to
get
Eleanor
registered,
then
stopped at Burger King on the way
to the new house. Her mom kept
squeezing Eleanor’s hand …
Eleanor had pretended not to
notice the bruises on her mom’s
wrist.
The bedroom door opened,
and her little sister walked in,
carrying the cat.
‘Mom wants you to leave the
door open,’ Maisie said, ‘for the
breeze.’ Every window in the
house was open, but there didn’t
seem to be any breeze. With the
door open, Eleanor could just see
Richie sitting on the couch. She
scooted down the bed until she
couldn’t.
‘What are you doing?’ Maisie
asked.
‘Writing a letter.’
‘To who?’
‘I don’t know yet.’
‘Can I come up?’
‘No.’ For the moment, all
Eleanor could think about was
keeping her box safe. She didn’t
want Maisie to see the colored
pencils and clean paper. Plus, part
of her still wanted to punish
Maisie for sitting in Richie’s lap.
That
never
would
have
happened before.
Before Richie kicked Eleanor
out, all the kids were allied against
him. Maybe Eleanor had hated
him the most, and the most openly
– but they were all on her side,
Ben and Maisie, even Mouse.
Mouse used to steal Richie’s
cigarettes and hide them. And
Mouse was the one they’d send to
knock on their mom’s door when
they heard bedsprings …
When it was worse than
bedsprings, when it was shouting
or crying, they’d huddle together,
all five of them, on Eleanor’s bed.
(They’d all had their own beds in
the old house.)
Maisie sat at Eleanor’s right
hand then. When Mouse cried,
when Ben’s face went blank and
dreamy, Maisie and Eleanor would
lock eyes.
‘I hate him,’ Eleanor would
say.
‘I hate him so much I wish he
was dead,’ Maisie would answer.
‘I hope he falls off a ladder at
work.’
‘I hope he gets hit by a truck.’
‘A garbage truck.’
‘Yeah,’ Maisie would say,
gritting her teeth, ‘and all the
garbage will fall on his dead
body.’
‘And then a bus will run him
over.’
‘Yeah.’
‘I hope I’m on it.’
Maisie put the cat back on
Eleanor’s bed. ‘It likes to sleep up
there,’ she said.
‘Do you call him Dad, too?’
Eleanor asked.
‘He is our dad now,’ Maisie
said.
Eleanor woke up in the middle of
the night. Richie had fallen asleep
in the living room with the TV on.
She didn’t breathe on the way to
the bathroom and was too scared
to flush the toilet. When she got
back to her room, she closed the
door. Fuck the breeze.
CHAPTER 7
Park
‘I’m going to ask Kim out,’ Cal
said.
‘Don’t ask Kim out,’ Park
said.
‘Why not?’ They were sitting
in the library, and they were
supposed to be looking for
poems. Cal had already picked out
something short about a girl
named Julia and the ‘liquefaction
of her clothes.’ (‘Crass,’ Park said.
‘It can’t be crass,’ Cal argued. ‘It’s
three-hundred
years
old.’)
‘Because she’s Kim,’ Park said.
‘You can’t ask her out. Look at
her.’
Kim was sitting at the next
table over with two other preppy
girls.
‘Look at her,’ Cal said, ‘she’s a
Betty.’
‘Jesus,’ Park said. ‘You sound
so stupid.’
‘What? That’s a thing. A Betty
is a thing.’
‘But you got it from
Thrasher
or something, right?’
‘That’s how people learn new
words, Park’ – Cal tapped a book
of poetry – ‘reading.’
‘You’re trying too hard.’
‘She’s a Betty,’ Cal said,
nodding at Kim and getting a Slim
Jim out of his backpack.
Park looked at Kim again. She
had bobbed blond hair and hard,
curled bangs, and she was the
only kid in school with a Swatch.
Kim was one of those people who
never wrinkled … She wouldn’t
make eye contact with Cal. She’d
be afraid he’d leave a stain.
‘This is my year,’ Cal said.
‘I’m getting a girlfriend.’
‘But probably not Kim.’
‘Why not Kim? You think I
need to aim lower?’
Park looked up at him. Cal
wasn’t a bad-looking guy. He had
kind of a tall Barney Rubble thing
going on … He already had pieces
of Slim Jim caught in his front
teeth.
‘Aim elsewhere,’ Park said.
‘Screw that,’ Cal said, ‘I’m
starting at the top. And I’m getting
you a girl, too.’
‘Thanks, but no thanks,’ Park
said.
‘Double-dating,’ Cal said.
‘No.’
‘In the Impala.’
‘Don’t get your hopes up.’
Park’s dad had decided to be a
fascist
about
Park’s
driver’s
license; he’d announced last night
that Park had to learn to drive a
stick first. Park opened another
book of poetry. It was all about
war. He closed it.
‘Now there’s a girl who might
want a piece of you,’ Cal said.
‘Looks like
somebody
’s got jungle
fever.’
‘That isn’t even the right kind
of racist,’ Park said, looking up.
Cal was nodding toward the far