Eleanor opened her eyes. "No. No, I don't want to go."

"Are you okay?" her mom asked.

Her mom left the room, and Eleanor pretended to go back to sleep.

"You look like you're getting a cold."

# Eleanor #

"Does that mean I can go back to sleep?"

Eleanor slept until noon on Christmas Day. Until her mom finally came in and told her to wake up.

"I'm asleep."

"No," Eleanor said, "I don't want to have to leave everybody… again." Saying it made her feel like one hundred percent jerk, but she'd say anything to spend the summer with Park. (And she wasn't even going to tell herself that he'd probably be sick of her by then.) "I want to stay home," she said.

"But I thought you'd jump at the chance to get out of here."

Her mom nodded. "Okay," she said, "then I won't mention it. But if you change your mind…"

"I won't," Eleanor said.

"I guess so. Look, Eleanor…" her mother stepped away from the door, and her voice dropped. "I'm going to talk to Richie about this summer. I think I can get him to change his mind about that camp."

# Park #

Park beat Josh back with a pillow.

He slept until noon on Christmas Day, until Josh came in and sprayed him with one of their mom's salon water bottles.

Everybody else was waiting for him, and the whole house smelled like turkey. His grandma wanted him to open her present first -- a new "Kiss Me, I'm Irish" T-shirt. A size bigger than last year's, which meant it would be a size too big.

He also got two black sweaters he might actually wear, some Avon cologne in a bottle shaped like an electric guitar, and an empty key ring -- which his dad made sure everybody noticed.

Park's sixteenth birthday had come and gone, and he didn't even care anymore about getting his license and driving himself to school. He wasn't going to give up his only guaranteed time with Eleanor.

"Dad says that if you don't get up, he's going to let me have all your presents."

His parents gave him a fifty-dollar gift certificate to Drastic Plastic, the punk-rock record store downtown. (Park was surprised that they'd think of that. And he was surprised that DP sold gift certificates. Not very punk.)

"Maisie?"

"Why?"

"Yeah. Then Mouse -- Jeremiah. He's five. Then the baby. Little Richie."

That's when she'd told him that, most nights, she shared a room with all of her brothers and sisters. All of them. A room about the size of his, she said, "minus the waterbed."

"Any one of my siblings could have woken up, they still could, and they would definitely tell on me. They have very confused allegiances."

She'd already told him that as awesome as last night was -- and they both agreed it was awesome -- she couldn't risk sneaking out again.

"What are their names?"

"So you have two brothers and two sisters?"

There was nothing between them now. Nothing stupid and selfish just taking up space.

They were sitting against the back door of the school, in a little alcove where no one would see them unless they were really looking, and where the snow didn't fall directly on their faces. They sat next to each other, facing each other, holding hands.

"I'm just curious," he said. "Is it classified?"

She sighed. "Ben, Maisie…"

"But if you're quiet…"

"Three brothers, one sister."

"I know, but like Little Richard? 'Tutti-Frutti'?"

Park laughed. "You call him 'Little Richie'?"

"Do you guys get along?"

"Well, she's mean. For starters. And she fights like a street person. Like, take-off-your-earrings fights."

"How old is she?"

Park laughed. "How is Maisie crazy?"

"Oh my God, I never thought of that. Why haven't I ever thought of that?"

"How can a five-year-old be crazy?"

"Eight. No, nine."

He pulled her hands to his chest. He still hadn't managed to touch Eleanor anywhere below the chin or above the elbow. He didn't think she'd necessarily stop him if he tried, but what if she did? That'd be awful. Anyway, her hands and her face were excellent.

"Oh my God, Mouse? He's the craziest of them all. He's always got a hammer or a jackrabbit or something stuck in his back pocket, and he refuses to wear a shirt."

"Well, his dad is Big Richie, not that he's very big either…"

"Sometimes… They're all crazy."

"What about Ben?"

"Ben…" She looked away. "You've seen Ben. He's almost Josh's age. He needs a haircut."

"Not your mom."

"He hates everybody, I think."

"Keeping secrets about your demonic ex-girlfriend. I don't have any demonic ex-anythings."

"Does Richie hate them, too?"

She shook her head. "I don't think she can… I don't think there's enough of her left."

"Especially her."

He pushed back. "Because. It's your life. Because I'm interested. It's like you've got all these weird barriers set up, like you only want me to have access to this tiny part of you…"

"Yes," she said, crossing her arms. "Barriers. Caution tape. I'm doing you a favor."

"I'm sorry." Park whispered back.

"Stop saying his name." She was whispering.

Eleanor pushed Park's hands forward. "Why do you want to talk about this?"

Park took her hands again. "Why doesn't she leave?"

"Does Richie hate your brothers and sister, too?"

"Don't," he said. "I can handle it." He put his thumb between her eyebrows and tried to smooth out the frown. "This whole stupid fight was about keeping secrets."

Eleanor rolled her eyes and wiped her cheek with her sweater sleeve. "Uh. Yeah."

"Is he mean to her?"

Richie said Eleanor had to come out of her room for Christmas dinner. Fine. She really was getting a cold, so at least it didn't seem like she'd been faking it all day.

"Are you scared of him?"

"You. Invisible."

Eventually it was too cold to stay out there. Even the insides of their mouths were freezing.

"What?" she asked.

Park smiled.

They had turkey with stuffing, and mashed potatoes swimming with dill and butter. For dessert there was rice pudding and pepper cookies, which her mom only ever made on Christmas.

"Yeah…"

# Eleanor #

"No." She lifted up her chin. "No… I just have to lay low, you know? Like as long as I stay out of his way, I'm fine. I just have to be invisible."

She smiled. He let go of her hands and held her face. Her cheeks were cold, and her eyes were fathomless in the dark.

She was all he could see.

"I know you're scared of getting kicked out, but are you scared of him?"

Dinner was awesome. Her mom could really cook when she had actual food to work with. (Something other than legumes.)

"Is she scared of him?" he asked.

"Me?"

Eleanor used to think that that was why she was so fat. But look at her now, she was starving all the time, and she was still enormous.

At least that had been the rule back when her mom used to make all kinds of cookies, all year long. The little kids didn't know what they were missing now. When Eleanor and Ben were little, their mom baked constantly. There were always fresh cookies in the kitchen when Eleanor got home from school. And real breakfast every morning… Eggs and bacon, or pancakes and sausage, or oatmeal with cream and brown sugar.

They all tore into Christmas dinner like it was their last meal, which it practically was, at least for a while. Ben ate both of the turkey legs, and Mouse ate an entire plate of mashed potatoes.

Richie had been drinking all day again, so he was all kinds of festive at dinner -- laughing too much and too loud. But you couldn't enjoy the fact that he was in a good mood, because it was the kind of good mood that was just on the edge of a bad one. They were all waiting for him to cross over…

"It's rice pudding," Ben said, stupid with turkey.

Which he did, as soon as he realized there was no pumpkin pie.

"What the fuck is this?" he said, flicking his spoon in the ris ala mande.

"I know it's pudding," Richie said. "Where's the pumpkin pie, Sabrina?" he shouted into the kitchen. "I told you to make a real Christmas dinner. I gave you money for a real Christmas dinner."

He stood up unsteadily from his chair. "I'm going to go buy some pumpkin pie… so this family can have a real fucking Christmas dinner."

Her mother stood in the doorway to the kitchen. She still hadn't sat down to eat. "It's…"

"It's… just that I forgot to buy pumpkin," her mother said.

"How could you forget the fucking pumpkin on Christmas," Richie said, hurling the stainless-steel bowl of rice pudding. It hit the wall near her mother and sprayed weepy chunks everywhere.

Everyone but Richie stayed still.

It's a traditional Danish Christmas dessert, Eleanor thought. My grandmother made it, and her grandmother made it, and it's better than pumpkin pie. It's special.

As soon as they heard his truck tear out, Eleanor's mom picked up the bowl with what was left of the rice pudding, then skimmed the top off the pile of pudding on the floor.

He walked to the back door.

They all did.

"Who wants cherry sauce?" she said.

Their mom even sat down to watch with them.

Eleanor cleaned up the rest of the pudding, and Ben turned on the TV. They watched The Grinch and Frosty the Snowman, and A Christmas Carol.

Eleanor couldn't help but think that if the Ghost of Christmas Past showed up, he'd be disgusted with their whole situation. But Eleanor felt full and happy when she fell asleep.