Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell Page A

be able to see from the
    top of her head how happy she
    felt.
    She could feel Park sitting next
    to her, even though he was at least
    six inches away.
    She handed him yesterday’s
    comics, then tugged nervously at
    the green ribbon wound round her
    wrist. She couldn’t think of what
    to say. She started to worry that
    maybe she wouldn’t say anything,
    that she wouldn’t even thank him
    …
    Park’s hands were perfectly
    still in his lap. And perfectly
    perfect. Honey-colored with clean,
    pink fingernails. Everything about
    him was strong and slender. Every
    time he moved he had a reason.
    They were almost to school
    when he broke the silence.
    ‘Did you listen?’
    She nodded, letting her eyes
    climb as high as his shoulders.
    ‘Did you like it?’ he asked.
    She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh my
    God. It was … just, like …’ – she
    spread out all her fingers – ‘so
    awesome.’
    ‘Are you being sarcastic? I
    can’t tell.’
    She looked up at his face,
    even though she knew how that
    was going to feel, like someone
    was hooking her insides out
    through her chest.
    ‘No. It was awesome. I didn’t
    want to stop listening. That one
    song – is it “Love Will Tear Us
    Apart”?’
    ‘Yeah, Joy Division.’
    ‘Oh my God, that’s the best
    beginning to a song ever.’
    He imitated the guitar and the
    drums.
    ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ she said. ‘I
    just wanted to listen to those three
    seconds over and over.’
    ‘You could have.’ His eyes
    were smiling, his mouth only sort
    of.
    ‘I didn’t want to waste the
    batteries,’ she said.
    He shook his head, like she
    was dumb.
    ‘Plus,’ she said, ‘I love the rest
    of it just as much, like the high
    part, the melody, the dahhh, dah-
    de-dah-dah, de-dahh, de dahhh.’
    He nodded.
    ‘And his voice at the end,’ she
    said, ‘when he goes just a little bit
    too high … And then the very end,
    where it sounds like the drums are
    fighting it, like they don’t want the
    song to be over …’
    Park made drum noises with
    his mouth: ‘ch-ch-ch, ch-ch-ch.’
    ‘I just want to break that song
    into pieces,’ she said, ‘and love
    them all to death.’
    That made him laugh.
    ‘What about the Smiths?’ he
    asked.
    ‘I didn’t know who was who,’
    she said.
    ‘I’ll write it down for you.’
    ‘I liked it all.’
    ‘Good,’ he said.
    ‘I loved it.’
    He smiled, but turned away to
    look out the window. She looked
    down.
    They were pulling into the
    parking lot. Eleanor didn’t want
    this new talking thing – like,
    really talking, back and forth and
    smiling at each other – to stop.
    ‘And …’ she said quickly, ‘I
    love the X-Men. But I hate
    Cyclops.’
    He whipped his head back.
    ‘You can’t hate Cyclops. He’s
    team captain.’
    ‘He’s boring. He’s worse than
    Batman.’
    ‘What? You hate Batman?’
    ‘God. So boring. I can’t even
    make myself read it. Whenever
    you bring Batman, I catch myself
    listening to Steve, or staring out
    the window, wishing I was in
    hypersleep.’ The bus came to a
    stop.
    ‘Huh,’ Park said, standing up.
    He said it really judgmentally.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Now I know what you’re
    thinking when you stare out the
    window.’
    ‘No, you don’t,’ she said. ‘I
    mix it up.’
    Everybody else was pushing
    down the aisle past them. Eleanor
    stood up, too.
    ‘I’m bringing you The Dark
    Knight Returns ,’ he said.
    ‘What’s that?’
    ‘Only the least boring Batman
    story ever.’
    ‘The least boring Batman story
    ever, huh? Does Batman raise
    both eyebrows?’
    He laughed again. His face
    completely changed when he
    laughed. He didn’t have dimples,
    exactly, but the sides of his face
    folded in on themselves, and his
    eyes almost disappeared.
    ‘Just wait,’ he said.
    Park
    That morning, in English, Park
    noticed that Eleanor’s hair came to
    a soft red point on the back of her
    neck.
    Eleanor
    That afternoon, in history, Eleanor
    noticed that Park chewed on his
    pencil when he was