# Park #

His parents had been arguing in their bedroom for more than an hour, and when it was time to leave for Sunday dinner, their mom came out and told the boys to go ahead without them. "Tell Grandma I have headache."

"What did you do?" Josh asked Park as they cut through the front lawn.

Park's parents almost never fought, and when they did, it was always about him or Josh.

But Park hadn't done anything. Not since the eyeliner -- which he knew wasn't dead, but it seemed in remission. Maybe his parents knew somehow about yesterday…

Even if they did, Park hadn't done anything with Eleanor that he'd ever been explicitly told not to do. His mom never talked to him about that kind of thing. And his dad hadn't said anything more than "Don't get anybody pregnant" since he told Park about sex in the fifth grade. (He'd told Josh at the same time, which was insulting.)

"Nothing," Park said. "What did you do?"

Anyway, they hadn't gone that far. He hadn't touched her anywhere that you couldn't show on television. Even though he'd wanted to.

"Nothing. It's you. When I went to the bathroom, I heard mom say your name."

He walked with her to the counselors' office, and told her that if anybody stole her clothes today, she was to find him, immediately.

She went to Mrs Dunne's office Monday morning before class, and Mrs Dunne gave her a brand new combination lock. It was hot pink.

"We talked to some of the girls in your class," Mrs Dunne said, "but they all played dumb. We're still going to get to the bottom of this, I promise."

# Eleanor #

He wished now that he had. It might be months before they were alone again.

"It's okay," she told Mrs Dunne. "It doesn't matter."

There is no bottom, Eleanor thought. There's just Tina.

Tina had watched Eleanor get on the bus that morning with her tongue on her top lip, like she was waiting for Eleanor to spaz out -- or like she was trying to see whether Eleanor was wearing any toilet clothes. But Park was right there, practically pulling Eleanor into his lap -- so it was easy to ignore Tina and everybody else. He looked so cute this morning. Instead of his usual scary black band T-shirt, he was wearing a green shirt that said "Kiss Me, I'm Irish."

"Mmm-hmm," Beebi agreed.

Nobody did.

Beebi and DeNice had already heard about what happened from somebody in another class -- which meant that the whole school knew. They said they were never going to let Eleanor walk alone to lunch again, Macho Nachos be damned.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Sure," Eleanor said. She looked at him, and he reached out to squeeze her hand as she walked away.

# Park #

"Hi, Eleanor, sorry, but Park has errand to run. We see you tomorrow, okay?"

He got into the car. "Come on, come on," his mom said, "why you do everything so slow? Here." She handed him a brochure. State of Nebraska Driver's Manual. "Practice test at end," she said, "now buckle up."

His mom was waiting in the Impala Monday afternoon when Park and Eleanor got off the bus. She rolled down the window.

"Does Dad know?"

"To get your driving license, dummy."

"Those skanks need to know you have friends," DeNice said.

His mom sat on a pillow when she drove and hung forward on the steering wheel. "He knows, but you don't have to talk to him about it, okay? This is our business right now, you and me. Now, look at test. Not hard. I pass on first try."

"Ours," he said.

"What?" she said. "Look at you, look at this!"

She let him drive home. "So, if we don't tell Dad," Park asked, "does that mean I can't ever drive?" He wanted to drive Eleanor somewhere. Anywhere.

Park passed the test on his first try. He even parallel parked the Impala, which was like parallel parking a Star Destroyer. His mom wiped his eyelids with a Kleenex before he had his picture taken.

"I work on it," his mom said. "Meantime, you have your license if you need it. For emergency."

The next morning on the bus, Eleanor asked him what his big secret errand was, and he handed her his license.

That seemed like a pretty weak excuse to get his license. Park had gone sixteen years without a driving emergency.

Park flipped to the back of the book and looked at the practice exam. He'd studied the whole manual when he turned fifteen and got his learner's permit.

"Is Dad going to be mad at me?" he asked.

"You and me," she said.

"Whose business is this right now?"

She didn't want to give it back.

"You will? Really?"

"I'm sweet," she said, affronted, holding back his license.

"You can have one of my school pictures. My mom has tons."

"No… you're other good things," he said, snatching it from her, "but not sweet."

"I'm going to write, 'For Eleanor, I love you. Park.'"

"I'll get you another one," he said.

"Like, 'Hey, Eleanor, KIT, LYLAS, stay sweet, Park.'"

"But I don't L-Y like an S," he said. "And you're not sweet."

They hung out in his bedroom after dinner (Tater Tot casserole) and managed to sneak kisses while they looked through all of Park's old school pictures. Seeing him as a little kid just made her want to kiss him more. (Gross, but whatever. As long as she didn't want to kiss actual little kids, she wasn't going to worry about it.)

"Like what?"

"Is this where you tell me that I'm a scoundrel, and I say that I think you like me because I'm a scoundrel? Because we've already covered this, I'm the Han Solo."

"You have to write something on the back," she said.

Park gave her a school picture. It was from October, but he already looked so different now. Older. In the end, Eleanor hadn't let him write anything on the back because she didn't want him to ruin it.

# Eleanor #

"I don't have any pictures of you," she said.

"God, don't write that, my mom might find it."

Eleanor must have been acting too happy when she got home because her mom followed her to the back of the house like she could smell it on her. (Happiness smelled like Park's house. Like Skin So Soft and all four food groups.)

She didn't have an answer.

Eleanor turned on the hot water and climbed into the empty bath tub. It was so cold by the back door that the bath water started cooling off before the tub was even full. Eleanor took baths in such a hurry she was usually done by then.

When Park asked her for a picture, she was relieved that she didn't have any to give him.

"I want to remember tonight," Park said.

His mom was thrilled to take her picture. This called for Makeover, Part II -- which Park cut short, thank God, saying, "Mom, I want a photo that actually looks like Eleanor."

"Are you going to take a bath?" her mom asked.

He was such a dork sometimes.

"Why not now?"

"Now?"

"Um… okay."

"Okay, cool, I'll get my mom's camera."

"Shouldn't we wait?" Eleanor asked. "For a holiday or something more memorable?"

"I'll watch the door for you."

"Uh-huh."

His mom insisted on taking one of them together, too, which Park didn't mind at all. He put his arm around her.

"We'll take one," he said.

Eleanor pulled out the drain and carefully picked up her dirty clothes. Park's photo was in her back pocket, and she didn't want it to get wet. Her mom was standing by the stove, watching her.

"Maybe…"

"No," her mom said. "I'm talking about you. How lucky I am that you're so smart about boys."

"Well, she's pregnant," her mom said. "And Eileen's a wreck. Tracy got involved with a boy in their neighborhood, a black boy. Eileen's husband is having a fit."

"I don't remember them," Eleanor said. The tub was almost full enough to rinse her hair.

"I don't think so," Eleanor said. Her family hadn't gone to church in three years.

"I ran into Eileen Benson at the store today," her mom said. "Do you remember her from church?"

"She had a daughter your age -- Tracy."

"That you didn't get involved with a black guy?"

"I'm not smart about boys," Eleanor said. She rinsed her hair quickly, then stood up, covering herself with a towel while she got dressed.

"Well, it just made me think about how lucky I am," her mom said.

"You've stayed away from them. That's smart."

Eleanor hugged her dirty jeans to her chest. "You act like there are two kinds of girls," she said. "The smart ones and the ones that boys like."

"Smarter than I ever was," her mom said. "And braver. I haven't been on my own since the eighth grade."

"That's not far from the truth," her mom said, trying to put her hand on Eleanor's shoulder. Eleanor took a step back. "You'll see," her mom said. "Wait until you're older."

Eleanor pushed past her mother and rushed to her bedroom. Ben and Mouse slipped in just behind her.

They both heard Richie's truck pull into the driveway.

Eleanor couldn't think of a place safe enough for Park's photo, so she zipped it into the pocket of her school bag. After she'd looked at it again and again and again.