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.