Authors: Rainbow Rowell
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
secretary 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.
Park didn’t answer. His whole
face was throbbing; the nurse
wasn’t allowed to give out
Tylenol.
‘Did you really kick him in the
face?’ his dad asked.
Park nodded.
‘That had to be a jump kick.’
‘Jump reverse hook,’ Park
groaned.
‘No way.’
Park tried to give his dad a
dirty look, but any look at all felt
like getting hit in the face with
rocks.
‘He’s lucky you wear those
little tennis shoes,’ his dad said,
‘even in the middle of winter …
Seriously, a jump reverse hook?’
Park nodded.
‘Huh. Well, your mom is going
to hit the goddamn roof when she
sees you. She was at your
grandma’s house, crying, when
she called me.’
His dad was right. When Park
walked
in,
his
mom
was
practically incoherent.
She took him by the shoulders
and looked up at his face, shaking
her head. ‘Fighting!’ she said,
stabbing her index finger into his
chest. ‘Fighting like white-trash
dumb monkey …’
He’d seen her this mad at Josh
before – he’d seen her throw a
basket of silk flowers at Josh’s
head – but never at him.
‘Waste,’ she said. ‘Waste!
Fighting! Can’t trust you with own
face.’
His dad tried to put his hand
on her shoulder, but she shook
him off.
‘Get the boy a steak, Harold,’
his grandma said, sitting Park at
the kitchen table and inspecting
his face.
‘I’m not wasting a steak on
that,’ his grandpa said.
His dad went to the cupboard
to get Park some Tylenol and a
glass of water.
‘Can
you
breathe?’
his
grandma asked.
‘Through my mouth,’ Park
said.
‘Your dad broke his nose so
many times, he can only breathe
through one nostril. That’s why he
snores like a freight train.’
‘No more taekwando,’ his
mom said. ‘No more fighting.’
‘Mindy …’ his dad said. ‘It
was one fight. He was sticking up
for some girl the kids pick on.’
‘She’s not some girl,’ Park
growled. His voice made every
bone in his head vibrate with pain.
‘She’s my girlfriend.’
He hoped so, anyway.
‘Is it the redhead?’ his
grandma asked.
‘Eleanor,’ he said. ‘Her
name
–
is
Eleanor
.’
‘No girlfriend, no,’ his mom
said,
folding
her
arms.
‘Grounded.’
Eleanor
When Eleanor rang the doorbell,
Magnum P.I. answered.
‘Hi,’ she said, trying to smile.
‘I go to school with Park. I have
his books and stuff.’
Park’s dad looked her up and
down, but not like he was
checking her out, thank God.
More like he was sizing her up.
(Which was also uncomfortable.)
‘Are you Helen?’ he asked.
‘Eleanor,’ she said.
‘Eleanor, right … Just a
second.’
Before she could tell him that
she just wanted to drop off Park’s
stuff, he walked away. He left the
door open, and Eleanor could hear
him talking to someone, probably
in the kitchen, probably Park’s
mom. ‘Come on, Mindy …’ And,
‘Just for a few minutes …’ And
then, right before he came back to
the door, ‘With a nickname like
Big Red, I expected her to be a lot
bigger.’
‘I was just dropping this off,’
Eleanor said when he pushed the
screen open.
‘Thanks,’ he said, ‘come on
in.’
Eleanor
held
up
Park’s
backpack.
‘Seriously, kid,’ he said.
‘Come on in and give it to him
yourself. I’m sure he wants to see
you.’
Don’t be
, she thought.
But she followed him through
the living room, down the short
hall to Park’s room. His dad
knocked softly and peeked in the
door.
‘Hey. Sugar Ray. Someone’s
here to see you. You want to
powder your nose first?’
He opened the door for
Eleanor, then walked away.
Park’s room was small, but it
was packed with stuff. Stacks of
books and tapes and comic books.
Model airplanes. Model cars.
Board games. A rotating solar
system hung over his bed like one
of those things you put over a
crib.
Park was on his bed, trying to
prop himself up on his elbows,
when she walked in.
She gasped when she saw his
face. It looked so much worse
than it had earlier.
One of his eyes was swollen
shut, and his nose was thick and
purple. It made her want to cry.
And to kiss him. (Because
apparently everything made her
want to kiss him. Park could tell
her that he had lice and leprosy
and parasitic worms living in his
mouth, and she would still put on
fresh ChapStik.
God
.) ‘Are you
okay?’ she asked. Park nodded
and sat up against his headboard.
She set down his bag and his coat,
and walked over to the bed. He
made room for her, so she sat
down.
‘Whoa,’ she said, falling
backwards, tipping Park on his
side. He groaned and grabbed her
arm.
‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘oh my God,
sorry, are you okay? I wasn’t
expecting a
waterbed
.’ Just saying
that word made her giggle. Park
laughed a little, too. It sounded
like snorting.
‘My mom bought it,’ he said.
‘She thinks they’re good for your
back.’
He was keeping both of his
eyes mostly shut, even the good
one, and he didn’t open his mouth
when he talked.
‘Does it hurt to talk?’ she
asked.
He nodded. He hadn’t let go of
her arm, even though she’d
recovered
her
balance.
If
anything, he was holding it tighter.
She reached up with her other
hand and lightly touched his hair.
Brushed it out of his face. It felt
smooth and sharp at the same
time, like she could feel each
strand under her fingertips.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
She didn’t ask why.
There were tears pooling in the
slit of his left eye and slipping
down his right cheek. She started
to wipe them away, but she didn’t
want to touch him.
‘It’s okay …’ she said. She let
her hand settle in her own lap.
She wondered if he was still
trying to break up with her. If he
was, she wouldn’t hold it against
him.
‘Did I ruin everything?’ he
asked.
‘Every-what?’ she whispered,
as if listening might hurt him, too.
‘Every-us.’
She shook her head, even
though he probably couldn’t see
her. ‘Not. Possible,’ she said.
He ran his palm down her arm
and squeezed her hand. She could
see the muscles flex in his forearm
and just under the sleeve of his T-
shirt.
‘I think you might have ruined
your face,’ she said.
He groaned.
‘Which is okay,’ she said,
‘because you were way too cute
for me, anyway.’
‘You think I’m cute?’ he said
thickly, pulling on her hand.
She was glad he couldn’t see
her face. ‘I think you’re …’
Beautiful. Breathtaking. Like
the person in a Greek myth who
makes one of the gods stop caring
about being a god.
Somehow the bruises and
swelling made Park even more
beautiful. His face looked ready to
break out of its chrysalis.
‘They’re still going to make
fun of me,’ she blurted. ‘This fight
doesn’t change that. You can’t
start kicking people every time
someone thinks I’m weird or ugly
… Promise me you won’t try.
Promise me that you’ll try not to
care.’
He pulled on her hand again,
and shook his head, gingerly.
‘Because it doesn’t matter to
me, Park. If you like me,’ she
said, ‘I swear to God, nothing else
matters.’
He leaned back into his
headboard, and pulled her hand to
his chest.
‘Eleanor, how many times do I
have to tell you,’ he said, through
his teeth, ‘that I don’t like you …’
Park was grounded, and he
wouldn’t be back at school until
Friday.
But nobody bothered Eleanor
the next day on the bus. Nothing
bothered her all day long.
After gym class, she found
more pervy stuff written on her
chemistry book – ‘pop that
cherry,’ written in globby purple
ink. Instead of scribbling it out,
Eleanor tore off the cover and
threw it away. She might be broke
and pathetic, but she could still
scrounge up another brown paper
bag.
When Eleanor got home after
school, her mom followed her
into the kids’ room. There were
two new pairs of Goodwill jeans
folded on the top bunk.
‘I found some money when I
was doing laundry,’ her mom
said. Which meant that Richie had
accidentally left money in his
pants. If he came home drunk,
he’d never ask about it – he’d just
assume he spent it at the bar.
Whenever her mom found
money, she tried to spend it on
things Richie would never notice.
Clothes
for
Eleanor.
New
underwear for Ben. Cans of tuna
fish and bags of flour. Things that
could be hidden in drawers and
cupboards.
Her mom had become some
sort of genius double agent since
she hooked up with Richie. It was
like she was keeping them all alive
behind his back.
Eleanor tried the jeans on
before anybody else got home.
They were a little big, but much
nicer than anything else she had.
All her other pants had something
wrong with them – a broken
zipper or a tear in the crotch –
some flaw she had to hide by
constantly pulling down her shirt.
It would be nice to have jeans that
didn’t do anything worse than sag.
Maisie’s present was a bag of
half-dressed Barbies. When Maisie
got home, she laid all the dolls out
on the bottom bunk, trying to put
together one or two complete
outfits for them.
Eleanor climbed onto the bed
with her and helped comb and
braid their frayed hair.
‘I wish there’d been a Ken in
there,’ Maisie said.
On Friday morning, when Eleanor
got to her bus stop, Park was
already there waiting for her.
CHAPTER 23
Park
His eye went from purple to blue
to green to yellow.
‘How long am I grounded?’ he
asked his mother.
‘Long enough to make you
sorry about fight,’ she said.
‘I
am
sorry,’ he said.
But he wasn’t really. The fight
had changed something on the
bus. Park felt less anxious now –
more relaxed. Maybe it was
because he’d stood up to Steve.
Maybe it was because he had
nothing left to hide …
Plus nobody on the bus had
ever seen anybody kick like that in
real life.
‘ I t
was
pretty
fantastic,’
Eleanor said on the way to school,
a few days after he came back.
‘Where did you learn to do that?’
‘My dad’s been making me go
to taekwando since kindergarten
… It was actually kind of a stupid,
show-offy kick. If Steve had been
thinking, he could have grabbed
my leg or pushed me.’
‘If Steve had been
thinking
…’
she said.
‘I thought you’d think it was