CHAPTER 34
Eleanor
Park’s mom didn’t seem surprised to see Eleanor the next day. He must have warned them she was coming.
‘Eleanor,’ his mom said extra nicely, ‘Merry Christmas, come in.’
When Eleanor walked into the living room, Park had just gotten out of the shower, which was embarrassing for some reason. His hair was wet and his T-shirt was kind of sticking to him. He was really happy to see her. That was obvious.
(And nice.)
She didn’t know what to do with his present, so when he walked over to her, she shoved it at him. He smiled, surprised. ‘This is for me?’
‘No,’ she said, ‘it’s …’ She couldn’t think of anything funny to say. ‘Yeah, it’s for you.’
‘You didn’t have to get me anything.’
‘I didn’t. Really.’
‘Can I open it?’
She still couldn’t think of anything funny, so she nodded. At least his family was in the kitchen, so nobody was watching them.
The present was wrapped in stationery.
Eleanor’s favorite stationery, watercolor paintings of fairies and flowers.
Park peeled off the paper carefully and looked at the book. It was The Catcher in the Rye. A really old edition. Eleanor had decided to leave the dust jacket on because it was neat-looking, even though it still had a thrift-shop price scrawled on the front with grease pencil.
‘I know it’s pretentious,’ she said. ‘I was going to give you Watership Down, but that’s about rabbits, and not everybody wants to read about rabbits …’
He looked at the book, smiling. For a terrible second, she thought he was going to open the front cover. And she really didn’t want him to read what she’d written. (Not while she was standing right there.)
‘Is this your book?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, but I’ve already read it.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, grinning at her. When he was really happy, his eyes disappeared into his cheeks. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ she said, looking down.
‘Just don’t kill John Lennon or anything.’
‘Come here,’ he said, pulling on the front of her jacket.
She followed him to his room but stopped at the door like there was an invisible fence. Park set the book on his bed, then grabbed two small boxes off a shelf. They were both wrapped in Christmas paper with big red bows.
He came and stood in the doorway with her; she leaned back against the jamb.
‘This one is from my mom,’ he said, holding up a box. ‘It’s perfume. Please don’t wear it.’ His eyes flicked down for a second, then back up at her. ‘This one is from me.’
‘You didn’t have to get me a present,’ she said.
‘Don’t be stupid.’
When she didn’t take the present, he took her hand and pressed the box into it.
‘I tried to think of something that nobody would notice but you,’ he said, pushing his bangs off his face. ‘That you wouldn’t have to explain to your mom … Like, I was going to buy you a really nice pen, but then …’
He was watching her open it, which made her nervous. She accidentally tore the wrapping paper. He took the paper from her, and she opened a small gray box.
There was a necklace inside. A thin silver chain with a small pendant, a silver pansy.
‘I’ll understand if you can’t take it,’ Park said.
She shouldn’t take it, but she wanted it.
Park
Dumb. He should have gotten the pen. Jewelry was so public … and personal, which is why he’d bought it. He couldn’t buy Eleanor a pen. Or a bookmark. He didn’t have bookmark-like feelings for her.
Park had used most of his car stereo money to buy the necklace. He’d found it at the jewelry store in the mall where people try on engagement rings.
‘I kept the receipt,’ he said.
‘No,’ Eleanor said, looking up at him. She looked anxious, but he wasn’t sure what kind.
‘No. It’s beautiful,’ she said, ‘thank you.’
‘Will you wear it?’ he asked.
She nodded.
He ran his hand through his hair and held onto the back of his neck, trying to rein himself in. ‘Now?’
Eleanor looked at him for a second, then nodded again. He took the necklace out of the box and carefully fastened it around her neck. Just like he’d imagined himself doing when he bought it. That might even be why he bought it – so he’d have this moment, with his hands warm on the back of her neck, under her hair. He ran his fingertips along the chain and settled the pendant on her throat.
She shivered.
Park wanted to pull on the chain, to pull it in-to his chest and anchor her there.
He pulled his hands away self-consciously and leaned back against the doorjamb.
Eleanor
They were sitting in the kitchen, playing cards.
Speed. She’d taught Park how to play, and she could always beat him for the first few rounds.
But after that, she’d get sloppy. (Maisie always started winning after a few rounds, too.)
Playing cards in Park’s kitchen, even if his mom was in there, was better than just sitting in the living room, thinking about all the things they’d be doing if they were alone.
His mom asked how her Christmas was, and Eleanor said it was nice. ‘What do you have for holiday dinner?’ his mom asked. ‘Turkey or ham?’
‘Turkey,’ Eleanor said, ‘with dill potatoes …
My mom’s Danish.’
Park stopped playing to look at her. She popped her eyes at him. ‘What, I’m Danish, shut up,’ she would have said if his mom hadn’t been there.
‘That’s where you get beautiful red hair,’ his mom said knowingly.
Park smiled at Eleanor. She rolled her eyes.
When his mom left to run something over to his grandparents, Park kicked her under the table.
He wasn’t wearing shoes.
‘I didn’t know you were Danish,’ he said.
‘Is this the kind of scintillating conversation we’re going to have now that we don’t have any secrets?’
‘Yes. Is your mom Danish?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘What’s your dad?’
‘An ass.’
He frowned.
‘What? You wanted honest and intimate.
That’s way more honest than “Scottish.”’
‘Scottish,’ Park said, and smiled.
Eleanor had been thinking about this new ar-rangement he wanted. This being totally open and honest with each other. She didn’t think she could start telling Park the whole, ugly truth overnight.
What if he was wrong? What if he couldn’t handle it?
What if Park realized that all the things he thought were so mysterious and intriguing about her were actually just … bleak?
When he asked about her Christmas, Eleanor told him about her mom’s cookies and the movies, and how Mouse thought The Grinch was about ‘all the Hoots down in Hootville.’
She half expected him to say, ‘Yeah, but now tell me all the terrible parts …’ Instead he laughed.
‘Do you think your mom would be okay with me,’ he asked, ‘you know, if it wasn’t for your stepdad?’
‘I don’t know …’ Eleanor said. She realized that she was holding on to the silver pansy.
Eleanor spent the rest of Christmas vacation at Park’s house. His mom didn’t seem to mind, and his dad was always inviting her to stay for dinner.
Eleanor’s mom thought she was spending all that time with Tina. Once she’d said, ‘I hope you’re not overstaying your welcome over there, Eleanor.’ And once she’d said, ‘Tina could come over here sometimes, too, you know,’ which they both knew was a joke.