Текст книги "Eleanor & Park"

Автор книги: Rainbow Rowell

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CHAPTER 41 Park

Park went to bed early. His mom kept bothering him about Eleanor. ‘Where’s Eleanor tonight?’

‘She running late?’ ‘You get in fight?’

Every time she said Eleanor’s name, Park felt his face go hot.

‘I can tell that something wrong,’ his mom said at dinner. ‘Did you get in fight? Did you break up again?’

‘No,’ Park said. ‘I think maybe she went home sick. She wasn’t on the bus.’

‘I have a girlfriend now,’ Josh said, ‘can she start coming over?’

‘No girlfriend,’ their mom said, ‘too young.’

‘I’m almost thirteen!’

‘Sure,’ their dad said, ‘your girlfriend can come over. If you’re willing to give up your Nintendo.’

‘What?’ Josh was stricken. ‘Why?’

‘Because I said so,’ his dad said. ‘Is it a deal?’

‘No! No way,’ Josh said. ‘Does Park have to give up Nintendo?’

‘Yep. Is that okay with you, Park?’

‘Fine.’

‘I’m like Billy Jack,’ their dad said, ‘a warri-or and a wise-man.’

It wasn’t much of a conversation, but it was the most his dad had said to Park in weeks.

Maybe his dad had been bracing for the entire neighborhood to swarm the house with torches and pitchforks as soon as they saw Park with eyeliner …

But almost nobody cared. Not even his grandparents. (His grandma said he looked like Rudolph Valentino, and he heard his grandpa tell his dad, ‘You should have seen what kids looked like while you were in Korea.’)

‘I’m going to bed,’ Park said, standing up from the table. ‘I don’t feel well either.’

‘So if Park doesn’t get to play Nintendo anymore,’ Josh asked, ‘can I put it in my room?’

‘Park can play Nintendo whenever he wants,’

their dad said.

‘God,’ Josh said, ‘everything you guys do is unfair.’

Park turned off his light and crawled onto his bed. He lay on his back because he didn’t trust his front. Or his hands, actually. Or his brain.

After he saw Eleanor today, it hadn’t oc-curred to him, not for at least an hour, to wonder why she was walking down the hall in her gymsuit. And it took him another hour to realize he should have said something to her. He could have said, ‘Hey’ or ‘What’s going on?’ or ‘Are you OK?’ Instead he’d stared at her like he’d never seen her before.

He felt like he’d never seen her before.

It’s not like he hadn’t thought about it (a lot)

– Eleanor under her clothes. But he could never fill in any of the details. The only women he could actually picture naked were the women in the magazines his dad every once in a while remembered to hide under his bed.

Magazines like that made Eleanor freak. Just mention Hugh Hefner, and she’d be off for half an hour on prostitution and slavery and the Fall of Rome. Park hadn’t told her about his dad’s twenty-year-old Playboy s, but he hadn’t touched them since he met her.

He could fill in some of the details now. He could picture Eleanor. He couldn’t stop picturing her. Why hadn’t he ever noticed how tight those gymsuits were? And how short …

And why hadn’t he expected her to be so grown up? To have so much negative space?

He closed his eyes and saw her again. A stack of freckled heart shapes, a perfectly made Dairy Queen ice cream cone. Like Betty Boop drawn with a heavy hand.

Hey, he thought. What’s going on? Are you okay?

She must not be. She hadn’t been on the bus on the way home. She hadn’t come over after school. And tomorrow was Saturday. What if he didn’t see her all weekend?

How could he even look at her now? He wouldn’t be able to. Not without stripping her down to her gymsuit. Without thinking about that long white zipper.

Jesus.

CHAPTER 42 Park

His family was going to the boat show the next day, then out to lunch, and maybe to the mall …

Park took forever to eat his breakfast and take a shower.

‘Come on, Park,’ his dad said sharply, ‘get dressed and put your makeup on.’

Like he’d wear makeup to the boat show.

‘Come on,’ his mom said, checking her lipstick in the hall mirror, ‘you know your dad hate crowds.’

‘Do I have to go?’

‘You don’t want to go?’ She scrunched and fluffed the back of her hair.

‘No, I do,’ Park said. He didn’t. ‘But what if Eleanor comes over? I don’t want to miss the chance to talk to her.’

‘Is something wrong? You sure you didn’t fight?’

‘No, no fight. I’m just … worried about her.

And you know I can’t call her house.’

His mom turned away from the mirror. ‘Okay

…’ she said, frowning. ‘You stay. But vacuum, okay? And put away big pile of black clothes on your floor.’

‘Thanks,’ Park said. He hugged her.

‘Park! Mindy!’ His dad was standing at the front door. ‘Let’s go!’

‘Park staying home,’ his mom said. ‘We go.’

His dad flashed him a look, but didn’t argue.

Park wasn’t used to being home alone. He vacuumed. He put his clothes away. He made himself a sandwich and watched a Young Ones marathon on MTV, then fell asleep on the couch.

When he heard the doorbell, he jerked up to answer it before he was awake. His heart was pounding, the way it does sometimes when you sleep too hard in the middle of the day, like you can’t remember how to wake up.

He was sure it was Eleanor. He opened the door without checking. Eleanor

Their car wasn’t in the driveway, so Eleanor figured Park’s family wasn’t home. They were probably off doing awesome family stuff. Eating lunch at Bonanza and having their portraits taken in matching sweaters.

She’d already given up on the door when it opened. And before she could act embarrassed and uncomfortable about yesterday – or pretend that she wasn’t – Park was opening the screen door and pulling her in by her sleeve.

He didn’t even close the door before he put his arms around her, his entire arms, all down the length of her back.

Park usually held Eleanor with his hands on her waist, like they were slow-dancing. This wasn’t slow-dancing. This was … something else. His arms were around her, and his face was in her hair, and there was no place for the rest of her to go but against him.

He was warm … Like really warm and fuzzy-soft. Like a sleeping baby, she thought. (Sort of.

Not exactly.)

She tried to feel embarrassed again.

Park kicked the door closed and fell back on it, pulling her even tighter. His hair was clean and straight and flopping into his eyes, and his eyes were nearly closed. Fuzzy. Soft.

‘Were you sleeping?’ she whispered. Like he still might be.

He didn’t answer, but his mouth fell on hers, open, and her head fell back into his hand. He was holding her so close, there was nowhere to hide. She couldn’t sit up or suck in or keep any secrets.

Park made a noise, and it hummed in her throat. She could feel all ten of his fingers. On her neck, on her back … Her own hands hung stupidly at her side. Like they weren’t even in the same scene as his. Like she wasn’t even in the same scene.

Park must have noticed, because he pulled his mouth back. He tried to wipe it on the shoulder of his T-shirt, and he looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time since she got there.

‘Hey …’ he said, taking a breath, focusing.

‘What’s going on? Are you okay?’

Eleanor looked at Park’s face, so full of something she couldn’t quite place. His chin hung forward, like his mouth didn’t want to pull away from her, and his eyes were so green they could turn carbon dioxide into oxygen.

He was touching her all the places she was afraid to be touched …

Eleanor tried one last time to be embarrassed. Park

For a second, he thought he’d gone too far.

He hadn’t even meant to, he was practically sleepwalking. And he’d been thinking about Eleanor, dreaming about her, for so many hours; wanting her made him stupid.

She was so still in his arms. He thought for a second that he’d gone too far, that he’d tripped a wire.

And then Eleanor touched him. She touched his neck.

It’s hard to say why this was different from all the other times she’d touched him. She was different. She was still and then she wasn’t.

She touched his neck, then drew a line down his chest. Park wished that he was taller and broader; he hoped she wouldn’t stop.

She was so gentle compared to him. Maybe she didn’t want him like he wanted her. But even if she wanted him half as much … Eleanor

This is how she touched him in her head.

From jaw to neck to shoulder.

He was so much warmer than she expected, and harder. Like all of his muscles and bones were right on the surface, like his heart was beat-ing just under his T-shirt.

She touched Park softly, gingerly, just in case she touched him wrong. Park

He relaxed against the door.

He felt Eleanor’s hand on his throat, on his chest, then took her other hand and pressed it to his face. He made a noise like he was hurt and decided to feel self-conscious about it later.

If he was shy now, he wouldn’t get anything that he wanted. Eleanor

Park was alive, and she was awake, and this was allowed.

He was hers.

To have and hold. Not forever, maybe – not forever, for sure – and not figuratively. But literally. And now. Now, he was hers. And he wanted her to touch him. He was like a cat who pushes its head under your hands.

Eleanor brought her hands down Park’s chest with her fingertips apart, then brought them up again under his shirt.

She did it because she wanted to. And because once she started touching him the way she did in her head, it was hard to stop. And because

… what if she never had the chance to touch him like this again? Park

When he felt her fingers on his stomach, he made the noise again. He held her to him and pushed forward, pushing Eleanor backward – stumbling around the coffee table to the couch.

In movies, this happens smoothly or comic-ally. In Park’s living room, it was just awkward.

They wouldn’t let go of each other, so Eleanor fell back, and Park fell against her in the corner of the couch.

He wanted to look in her eyes, but it was hard when they were this close. ‘Eleanor …’ he whispered.

She nodded.

‘I love you,’ he said.

She looked up at him, her eyes shiny and black, then looked away. ‘I know,’ she said.

He pulled one of his arms out from under her and traced her outline against the couch. He could spend all day like this, running his hand down her ribs, into her waist, out to her hips and back again … If he had all day, he would. If she weren’t made of so many other miracles.

‘You know?’ he repeated. She smiled, so he kissed her. ‘You’re not the Han Solo in this rela-tionship, you know.’

‘I’m totally the Han Solo,’ she whispered. It was good to hear her. It was good to remember it was Eleanor under all this new flesh.

‘Well, I’m not the Princess Leia,’ he said.

‘Don’t get so hung up on gender roles,’

Eleanor said. Park ran his hand out to her hip and back again, catching his thumb under her sweater. She swallowed and lifted her chin.

He pulled her sweater up farther and, then, without thinking about why, he pulled up his shirt, too, and laid his bare stomach against hers.

Eleanor’s face crumpled, and it made him come unhinged.

‘You can be Han Solo,’ he said, kissing her throat. ‘And I’ll be Boba Fett. I’ll cross the sky for you.’ Eleanor

Things she knew now, that she hadn’t known two hours ago:

Park was covered with skin. Everywhere.

And it was all just as smooth and honey-beautiful as the skin on his hands. It felt thick and richer in some places, more like crushed velvet than silk. But it was all his.

And all wonderful.

She was also covered with skin. And her skin was apparently covered with super-powered nerve endings that hadn’t done a damn thing her whole life, but came alive like ice and fire and bee stings as soon as Park touched her. Wherever Park touched her.

As embarrassed as she was of her stomach and her freckles and the fact that her bra was held together with two safety pins, she wanted Park to touch her more than she could ever feel embarrassed. And when he touched her, he didn’t seem to care about any of those things. Some of them he even liked. Like her freckles. He said she was candy-sprinkled.

She wanted him to touch her everywhere.

He’d stopped at the edge of her bra and only dipped his fingers into the back of her jeans – but it wasn’t Eleanor who stopped him. She never would. When Park touched her, it felt better than anything she’d ever felt in her whole life. Ever.

And she wanted to feel that way as much she could. She wanted to stock up on him.

Nothing was dirty. With Park.

Nothing could be shameful.

Because Park was the sun, and that was the only way Eleanor could think to explain it. Park

Once it started to get dark, he felt like his parents could walk in at any minute, like they should have been home a long time ago – and he didn’t want them to find him like this, with his knee between Eleanor’s legs and his hand on her hip and his mouth as far as it could reach down the neck of her sweater.

He pulled away from her and tried to think clearly again. ‘Where are you going?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know. Nowhere … My parents should be home soon, we should get it together.’

‘Okay,’ she said, and sat up. But she looked so bewildered and beautiful that he climbed back on top of her and pushed her all the way down.

A half-hour later, he tried again. He stood up this time.

‘I’m going to the bathroom,’ he said.

‘Go,’ she said. ‘Don’t look back.’

He took a step, then looked back.

‘I’ll go,’ she said a few minutes later.

While she was gone, Park turned up the volume on the TV. He got them both Cokes and looked at the couch to see if it looked illicit. It didn’t seem to.

When Eleanor came back, her face was wet.

‘Did you wash your face?’

‘Yeah …’ she said.

‘Why?’

‘Because I looked weird.’

‘And you thought you could wash it off?’

He gave her the same once-over he’d given the couch. Her lips were swollen, and her eyes seemed wilder than usual. But Eleanor’s sweaters were always stretched out, and her hair always looked tangled.

‘You look fine,’ he said. ‘What about me?’

She looked at him, and then smiled. ‘Good

…’ she said. ‘Just really, really good.’

He held out his hand to her, and pulled her onto the couch. Smoothly, this time.

She sat next to him and looked down at her lap.

Park leaned against her. ‘It’s not going to be weird now,’ he said, softly, ‘is it?’

She shook her head and laughed. ‘No,’ she said, and then, ‘only for a minute, only a little.’

He’d never seen her face so open. Her brows weren’t pulled together, her nose wasn’t scrunched. He put his arm around her, and she laid her head on his chest without any prompting.

‘Oh, look,’ she said, ‘ The Young Ones.’

‘Yeah … Hey. You still haven’t told me –

what was going on yesterday? When I saw you?

What was wrong?’

She sighed. ‘I was on my way to Mrs Dunne’s office because somebody in gym took my clothes.’

‘Tina?’

‘I don’t know, probably.’

‘Jesus …’ he said, ‘that’s terrible.’

‘It’s okay.’ She actually sounded like it was.

‘Did you find them? Your clothes?’

‘Yeah … I really, really don’t want to talk about it.’

‘Okay,’ he said.

Eleanor pressed her cheek into his chest, and Park hugged her. He wished that they could go through life like this. That he could physically put himself between Eleanor and the world.

Maybe Tina really was a monster.

‘Park?’ Eleanor said. ‘Just one more thing. I mean, can I ask you something?’

‘You know you can ask me anything. We’ve got a deal.’

She set her hand over his heart. ‘Did … the way you acted today have something to do with seeing me yesterday?’

He almost didn’t want to answer. Yesterday’s confusing lust felt even more inappropriate now that he knew the upsetting backstory. ‘Yeah,’ he said quietly.

Eleanor didn’t say anything for a minute or so. And then …

‘Tina would be so pissed.’ Eleanor

When Park’s parents got home, they seemed genuinely glad to see Eleanor. His dad had bought a new hunting rifle at the boat show, and he tried to show her how it worked.

‘You can buy guns at a boat show?’ Eleanor asked.

‘You can buy anything at a boat show,’ his dad said. ‘Anything worth having.’

‘Books?’ she asked.

‘Books about guns and boats.’

She stayed late because it was Saturday, and on the way home she and Park stopped at his grandparents’ driveway, as usual.

But tonight Park didn’t lean over and kiss her. Instead, he held her tight.

‘Do you think we’ll ever be alone like that again?’ she asked. She felt the tears in her eyes.

‘Ever? Yes. Soon? I don’t know …’

She hugged him as hard as she could, and then she walked home alone.

Richie was home and awake and watching Saturday Night Live. Ben was asleep on the floor, and Maisie was sleeping next to Richie on the couch.

Eleanor would have gone straight to bed, but she had to go to the bathroom. Which meant walking between him and the TV. Twice.

When she got to the bathroom, she pulled her hair back tight and washed her face again. She hurried back past the TV without looking up.

‘Where have you been?’ Richie asked.

‘Where do you go all the time?’

‘To my friend’s house,’ Eleanor said. She kept walking.

‘What friend?’

‘Tina,’ Eleanor said. She put her hand on the bedroom door.

‘Tina,’ Richie said. There was a cigarette in his mouth, and he was holding a can of Old Mil-waukee. ‘Tina’s house must be fucking Disney-land, huh? You can’t get enough.’

She waited.

‘Eleanor?’ she heard her mom calling from the bedroom. She sounded half asleep.

‘So, what’d you spend your Christmas money on?’ Richie asked. ‘I told you to buy yourself something nice.’

The bedroom door opened, and her mother came out. She was wearing Richie’s bathrobe –

one of those Asian souvenir robes, red satin, with a big gaudy tiger.

‘Eleanor,’ her mom said, ‘go to bed.’

‘I was just asking Eleanor what she bought with her Christmas money,’ Richie said.

If Eleanor made something up now, he’d want to see whatever it was. If she said she hadn’t spent the money, he might want it back.

‘A necklace,’ she said.

‘A necklace,’ he repeated. He looked at her blearily, like he was trying to come up with something awful to say, but he just took another drink and leaned back in his chair.

‘Good night, Eleanor,’ her mom said.

CHAPTER 43 Park

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

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.

‘Nothing,’ Park said. ‘What did you do?’

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

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.)

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.

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

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.’

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

‘It’s okay,’ she told Mrs Dunne. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

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.’

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

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.

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

‘Mmm-hmm,’ Beebi agreed. Park

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

She rolled down the window.

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

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

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.’

‘Where are we going?’ he asked.

‘To get your driving license, dummy.’

‘Does Dad know?’

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.’

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.

‘Whose business is this right now?’

‘Ours,’ he said.

‘You and me,’ she said.

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.

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.

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

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

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

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

She didn’t want to give it back.

‘I don’t have any pictures of you,’ she said.

‘I’ll get you another one,’ he said.

‘You will? Really?’

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

‘You have to write something on the back,’

she said.

‘Like what?’

‘Like, “Hey, Eleanor, KIT, LYLAS, stay sweet, Park.”’

‘But I don’t ll-Y like an S,’ he said. ‘And you’re not sweet.’

‘I’m sweet,’ she said, affronted, holding back his license.

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

‘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.’

‘I’m going to write, “For Eleanor, I love you.

Park.”’

‘God, don’t write that, my mom might find it.’

Eleanor

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.

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

‘We’ll take one,’ he said.

‘Um … okay.’

‘Okay, cool, I’ll get my mom’s camera.’

‘Now?’

‘Why not now?’

She didn’t have an answer.

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.’

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

‘Shouldn’t we wait?’ Eleanor asked. ‘For a holiday or something more memorable?’

‘I want to remember tonight,’ Park said.

He was such a dork sometimes.

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.)

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

‘Uh-huh.’

‘I’ll watch the door for you.’

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.

‘I ran into Eileen Benson at the store today,’

her mom said. ‘Do you remember her from church?’

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

‘She had a daughter your age – Tracy.’

‘Maybe …’

‘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.

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

‘That you didn’t get involved with a black guy?’

‘No,’ her mom said. ‘I’m talking about you.

How lucky I am that you’re so smart about boys.’

‘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.

‘You’ve stayed away from them. That’s smart.’

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.

‘Smarter than I ever was,’ her mom said.

‘And braver. I haven’t been on my own since the eighth grade.’

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.’

‘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.’

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

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

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.