Maybe she should feel bad about involving him in all this, but she didn't. He was right, the worst thing that would happen to him (barring some terrible accident) was that he'd be grounded. And being grounded at his house was like winning the Price is Right showcase compared to what would happen if Eleanor got caught.

"Okay."

He looked more serious than she'd seen him since the day he kicked Steve's ass. Or since her first day on the bus, when he'd ordered her to sit down. That was still the only time she'd heard him use the F-word.

"It might be a while. Don't turn on the light or anything, okay?"

"And watch for the Impala."

"Duh."

Park said he'd come back after his dad got home and his parents were both asleep.

He leaned into the RV and touched her chin.

And then he was gone.

Eleanor sat back down at the table. She could see Park's driveway from there, through the lace curtains. She felt tired suddenly. She just wanted to lay her head down. It was already after midnight; it could be hours before Park came back…

"Please be careful," she said.

# Eleanor #

She'd get away, and then she'd figure out what to do next.

Would her mom call the police? (Was her mom okay? Were they all okay? Eleanor should have checked to see if the little kids were breathing.)

Should she have left a note?

Or maybe she wouldn't…

Her uncle probably wouldn't even let Eleanor stay once he found out she'd run away…

Maybe she'd get away, and then she'd just stop.

Eleanor had never thought about killing herself -- ever -- but she thought a lot about stopping. Just running until she couldn't run anymore. Jumping from something so high that she'd never hit the bottom.

God, whenever she started to think this plan through, it all fell apart. But it was already too late to turn back. It felt like the most important thing now was to run, the most important place to be was away.

Maisie and Ben would tell him about Park, if they hadn't already. Not because they liked Richie, though sometimes it still seemed like they did. Because he had them on leashes. Like the first day Eleanor came to the house, when Maisie was sitting on Richie's lap…

Was Richie out looking for her now?

And then Uncle Geoff would send them both right home.

Her mom would definitely call the police if she woke up and Maisie was gone. Bringing Maisie would ruin everything even worse than it was already ruined.

Fuck. Just… fuck.

She'd be brave and noble, and she'd find a way.

Park

She should go back for Maisie.

She should go back for all of them -- she should find a way to fit them in her pockets -- but she should definitely go back for Maisie. Maisie would run away with Eleanor. She wouldn't think twice…

Park walked quietly into his house through the back door. Nobody in his family ever locked anything.

If Eleanor were the hero of some book, like The Boxcar Children or something, she'd try. If she were Dicey Tillerman, she'd find a way.

The TV was still on in his parents' bedroom. He went straight to the bathroom and into the shower. He was pretty sure he smelled like every single thing that could get him in trouble.

But she wasn't. Eleanor wasn't any of those things. She was just trying to get through the night.

Park had already written his parents a note:

Mom and Dad,

He buried his dirty clothes at the bottom of the hamper and dug all his leftover birthday and Christmas money out of his sock drawer. Sixty dollars. That should be enough for gas… probably, he didn't really know.

If they could just get to St Paul, Eleanor's uncle would help them figure it out. She wasn't sure her uncle would let her stay, but she said he was a decent guy, "and his wife was in the Peace Corps."

Park was going to take her keys, then sneak back out the kitchen door, the door farthest from his parents' room.

His dad got home around 1:30. Park listened to him move around the kitchen, then the bathroom. He heard the door to his parents' room open, he heard the TV.

# Park #

His mom always kept her keys in the same place -- on a little key-shaped plaque in the entryway that said "keys."

I had to help Eleanor. I'll call you tomorrow, and I'll be back in a day or two. I know I'm in huge trouble, but this was an emergency, and I had to help.

"Here," he said. "Just going to bed."

"Park?" his mom called when he walked out of the bathroom.

So beautiful. So peaceful… No, that wasn't quite right, not peaceful, more like… at peace. Like she was more comfortable out of her shirt than in it. Like she was happy inside out.

Park lay on his bed and closed his eyes. (There was no chance he'd fall asleep.) The picture of Eleanor was still glowing on the inside of his eyelids.

So far gone, she wasn't even thinking about him anymore.

When he opened his eyes, he saw her the way he'd left her in the RV -- tense and resigned, so far gone that light wouldn't even catch in her eyes.

Park waited until it was quiet. Then he waited another twenty minutes. Then he grabbed his backpack and went through the motions he'd planned in his head.

He stopped at the kitchen door. His dad had left his new hunting rifle out on the table… He was probably going to clean it tomorrow morning. For a minute, Park thought about taking the gun -- but he couldn't think of when he'd use it. It's not like they were going to run into Richie on the way out of town. Hopefully.

Park opened the door and was about to step out when his dad's voice stopped him.

"Did he touch her? Because if he touched her, we're calling the police."

"Did she talk to her mom?"

"What does Eleanor need help with at two in the morning?"

"Where does her uncle live?"

"What kind of notes?"

"No. I was just going to give her a ride to her uncle's house."

He could have run for it, but his dad probably would've caught him. His dad was always bragging about being in the best shape of his life.

"Park?"

"And you're going with her?"

"She's running away."

"I… I have to help Eleanor."

"Her mom's… not in very good shape. I think he hurts her."

"That little fucker…" His dad looked down at the gun, then looked back at Park, rubbing his chin. "So you're going to drive Eleanor to her uncle's house. Will he take her in?"

"Minnesota."

"He writes her these notes."

"Dad." Park stepped toward him, pleading. "She has to go. It's her stepdad. He's…"

Park rubbed his forehead. He didn't like to think about the notes. "Sick ones."

"Jesus F. Christ, Park," his dad said in his normal voice, "are you serious?"

"Where do you think you're going?" his dad whispered.

"Here…" His dad walked over to the cookie jar and pulled out a bunch of twenties. "If this doesn't work, with her uncle, don't take Eleanor home. Bring her back here, and we'll figure out what to do next."

"I know."

His dad stood on the front steps with his arms folded. Of course he had to watch. Like he was umpiring a goddamn taekwando bout.

"You're taking the truck," his dad said.

"Sixty dollars."

"If you get tired, pull into a rest stop. And don't talk to anybody unless you have to. Do you have any money?"

"Don't thank me yet. I've got one condition."

Because he knew how to drive a stick. Jesus.

His dad sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "But I can't think of a better one."

"I thought I'd get one at a gas station."

"I gotta tell you, Park, this doesn't sound like much of a plan."

Park's head jerked up.

"Call me when you get there," his dad said quietly. "It's a straight shot up from Des Moines -- do you have a map?"

No more eyeliner, Park thought.

"Okay… Thanks, Dad."

Park closed his eyes. Eleanor was still there. Eleanor.

"She thinks so."

He started the engine and shifted smoothly into reverse, rolled out of the driveway, shifted into first, then pulled forward without a sputter.