Tina pushed roughly past Eleanor and climbed onto the bus.

She had everybody else in their gym class calling Eleanor Bozo, but Tina had already moved on to Raghead and Bloody Mary. "Cuz it looks like your whole head is on the rag," she'd explained today in the locker room.

Actually, everyone wore matching gymsuits.

It made sense that Tina was in Eleanor's gym class -- because gym was an extension of hell, and Tina was definitely a demon. A weird, miniature demon. Like a toy demon. Or a teacup. And she had a whole gang of lesser demons, all dressed in matching gymsuits.

"Watch it, raghead."

# Eleanor #

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 gymsuits. 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.

Maybe somebody else on the bus would drop out or die or something and she'd be able move away from him.

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.

At least he didn't ever talk to her. Or look at her.

Always comic books.

Sometimes she looked at his shoes. He had cool shoes. And sometimes she looked to see what he was reading…

# Park #

At least she didn't think he did; Eleanor never looked at him.

Eleanor never brought anything to read on the bus. She didn't want Tina, or anybody else, to catch her with her head down.

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.

"Dad's going to be here, like now," Josh said through the drumstick, "and he's gonna shit if you're not ready."

"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.

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.

He 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 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.

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.

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.

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?"

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.

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!"

She still couldn't get used to eating dinner so early.

# Eleanor #

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."

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.

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.

"Writing a letter."

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.

"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.

"I don't know yet."

"Can I come up?"

Her mom had been so happy.

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…

That never would have happened before.

And Eleanor had been so happy.

"To who?"

"Yeah," Maisie would say, gritting her teeth, "and all the garbage will fall on his dead body."

"I hate him," Eleanor would say.

"I hope he falls off a ladder at work."

"Do you call him Dad, too?" Eleanor asked.

"Yeah."

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.

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.

"A garbage truck."

"And then a bus will run him over."

"I hope he gets hit by a truck."

"I hate him so much I wish he was dead," Maisie would answer.

"I hope I'm on it."

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 put the cat back on Eleanor's bed. "It likes to sleep up there," she said.

"He is our dad now," Maisie said.