when she handed him her paperwork. She sat down a few rows ahead of Park and, as far as he could tell, spent the whole period staring at the sun.
Park couldn’t think of a way to get rid of her on the bus. Or a way to get rid of himself. So he put his headphones on before the girl sat down and turned the volume all the way up.
Thank God she didn’t try to talk to him.
CHAPTER 4
Eleanor
She got home that afternoon before all the little kids, which was good because she wasn’t ready to see them again. It had been such a freak show when she’d walked in last night …
Eleanor had spent so much time thinking about what it would be like to finally come home and how much she missed everybody – she thought they’d throw her a ticker-tape parade. She thought it would be a big hugfest.
But when Eleanor walked in the house, it was like her siblings didn’t recognize her.
Ben just glanced at her, and Maisie – Maisie was sitting on Richie’s lap. Which would have made Eleanor throw right up if she hadn’t just promised her mom that she’d be on her best behavior for the rest of her life.
Only Mouse ran to hug Eleanor. She picked him up gratefully. He was five now, and heavy.
‘Hey, Mouse,’ she said. They’d called him that since he was a baby, she couldn’t remember why.
He reminded her more of a big, sloppy puppy – always excited, always trying to jump into your lap.
‘Look, Dad, it’s Eleanor,’
Mouse said, jumping down. ‘Do you know Eleanor?’
Richie pretended not to hear.
Maisie watched and sucked her thumb. Eleanor hadn’t seen her do that in years. She was eight now, but with her thumb in her mouth, she looked just like a baby.
The baby wouldn’t remember Eleanor at all. He’d be two …
There he was, sitting on the floor with Ben. Ben was eleven. He stared at the wall behind the TV.
Their mom carried the duffel bag with Eleanor’s stuff into a bedroom off the living room, and Eleanor followed her. The room was tiny, just big enough for a dresser and some bunk beds.
Mouse ran into the room after them. ‘You get the top bunk,’ he said, ‘and Ben has to sleep on the floor with me. Mom already told us, and Ben started to cry.’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ their mom said softly. ‘We all just have to readjust.’
There wasn’t room in this room to readjust. (Which Eleanor decided not to mention.) She went to bed as soon as she could, so she wouldn’t have to go back out to the living room.
When she woke up in the middle of the night, all three of her brothers were asleep on the floor. There was no way to get up without stepping on one of them, and she didn’t even know where the bathroom was …
She found it. There were only five rooms in the house, and the bathroom just barely counted. It was attached to the kitchen – like literally attached, without a door.
This house was designed by cave trolls,
Eleanor
thought.
Somebody, probably her mom, had hung a flowered sheet between the refrigerator and the toilet.
When she got home from school, Eleanor let herself in with her new key. The house was possibly even more depressing in daylight – dingy and bare – but at least Eleanor had the place, and her mom, to herself.
It was weird to come home and see her mom, just standing in the kitchen, like … like normal.
She was making soup, chopping onions. Eleanor felt like crying.
‘How was school?’ her mom asked.
‘Fine,’ Eleanor said.
‘Did you have a good first day?’
‘Sure. I mean, yeah, it was just school.’
‘Will you have a lot of catching up to do?’
‘I don’t think so.’
Her mom wiped her hands on the back of her jeans and tucked her hair behind her ears, and Eleanor was struck, for the ten-thousandth time, by how beautiful she was.
When Eleanor was a little girl, she’d thought her mom looked like a queen, like the star of some fairy tale.
Not a princess – princesses are just pretty. Eleanor’s mother was beautiful. She was tall and stately, with broad shoulders and an elegant waist. All of her bones seemed more purposeful than other people’s. Like they weren’t just there to hold her up, they were there to make a point.
She had a strong nose and a sharp chin, and her cheekbones were high and thick. You’d look at Eleanor’s mom and think she must be carved into the prow of a Viking ship somewhere or maybe painted on the side of a plane …
Eleanor looked a lot like her.
But not enough.
Eleanor looked like her mother through a fish tank. Rounder and softer. Slurred. Where her mother was statuesque, Eleanor was heavy. Where her mother was finely
drawn,
Eleanor
was
smudged.
After five kids, her mother had breasts and hips like a woman in a cigarette ad. At sixteen, Eleanor was already built like she ran a medieval pub.
She
had
too
much
of
everything and too little height to hide it. Her breasts started just below her chin, her hips were … a parody. Even her mom’s hair, long and wavy and auburn, was a more
legitimate
version
of
Eleanor’s bright red curls.