As February crept on, the talk about Eleanor subsided. New targets of gossip and scorn appeared with the regularity of piranha feeding frenzies. Eleanor didn’t reach out to her old friends, and they didn’t reach out to her. Her two weeks of social standing after David’s fireworks invitation was too little to wipe away the years of disregard everyone remembered. Eleanor returned to obscurity, out of sight and out of mind for most people.
David was not among them. To his credit, he’d stayed away from Eleanor and even stopped slipping her notes. However, he stole glances at her when he could, and once each day, at some point in school, he’d hold her gaze for a long time, offering her an opportunity to talk if she wanted. She didn’t.
A week ahead of Valentine’s Day, David’s locker was decorated with pink and red crepe paper hearts, candies, and streamers. Eleanor saw it before class. From down the hall, she watched him rush excitedly to it and fling open the door. Confetti spilled out and David found a card. He opened it and read. His excitement vanished. He closed the locker and went to class.
Before Mrs. Hart entered the classroom, Barbara sauntered up to his desk.
“So?” she said, bending over his desk.
“So?” said David.
“So, will you be my Valentine? Take me to the Valentine’s Stomp on Friday?”
Valentine’s Stomp was a girl’s choice dance. Not a true dance like at Christmastime, just a Friday evening in the gym with music and balloons, but since it was the only girl’s choice dance, it had a reputation of being one of the best events of the year.
“Don’t tell me you’ve already been asked,” she said and cast a sad look at Eleanor who turned away quickly, knowing she’d been caught watching.
“No, I haven’t been asked yet,” he said. “Let me answer you tomorrow.”
Barbara giggled. “I can’t wait,” she said. “My locker is A202.”
Mrs. Hart wafted into the classroom smelling of men’s cologne, and Mr. Curtz’s office chairs. Eleanor settled down behind her tome of short stories and tried not to cry.
She heard giggles and talk about Barbara and David all day. Crystal wanted to double date with them, and even Aubrey said that they made a cute couple.
Then came gym class. Mr. Blake was anxious to get the class back outside and accepted fifty degrees as warm enough for a jog around the track. Eleanor followed behind the bunch of complaining joggers. The temperature was closer to forty than fifty. She saw Russell jog up beside David, and she closed the distance.
“I hear you’re taking Barb to Stomp,” he said. “You better not.”
“It’s a girl’s choice,” David said. “And I haven’t decided.”
“She’s my girl,” he said in between gasps of cold air.
“She asked me,” David said.
“Just to get me jealous.”
“Are you?”
“Jealous of you? That’s a laugh. Hell no.”
“Then go away,” David said.
“It’s a joke, Venn. It’s all a joke. Don’t fall for it. Leave her or you’ll pay.”
“How?”
“You don’t have your big friend here no more, Venn,” he said, pulling him to a stop on the inner track. “I won’t be scared away with a broken switchblade.”
So he’d gotten it. She’d broken the knife with a vice in the shed and left the blood-stained parts on Russell’s doorstep the day after the attack, as soon as she was able. She’d scratched the message, “lay low or I’ll put you low” on the cement by the knife and ran home. She had listened for some clue that he’d gotten the message for months—that is, some clue besides him not going after David again. The dramatic gangster threat had worked. For a while.
“What are you talking about?” David said. “What happened? Tell me.”
“Go back to your skunk, Eleanor,” said Russell up in David’s face. “Your cow with the udders.”
He never saw the punch. David rounded on him with a doubled-up left haymaker and clocked Russell behind the ear. He stumbled back and then down on his rump. The class stopped to watch. Russell crab-walked backwards while David stomped after him. He was surprised more than hurt. The hurt would come later Eleanor knew. She’d heard the strike.
“You filthy little maggot,” snarled David and leapt at him.
Russell covered his face with his arms as David, in a frenzy, landed punches against his head and chest. Blood seeped between Russell’s fingers where David pounded his nose through his blocking hands. He slapped his ears, and grabbed a tuft of hair just as Tanner and Brian pulled him off.
“Calm down, David,” said Brian. “Break it up.”
Russell got to his feet and rushed at David. Brian let go to allow David to dodge, but Tanner held fast and Russell’s head butt caught David square in the gut. His lungs emptied and he flopped on the ground where Tanner dropped him. Russell got one kick into David’s belly before Brian pushed him down. Then Tanner sprang into Brian and pulled him down. David rolled onto his knees and tried to catch his breath. Russell ran at him like he was lining up a field goal.
David rolled to the side and tripped Russell with a hard kick to the shins. Still gasping for air, David threw himself on top of Russell again, and pinned his arms beneath his knees.
He leaned his head in close over Russell’s terrified face. In short gasps, he said, “If you ever . . . breathe an unkind word . . . about Eleanor Anders again,” he gasped, “I’ll tear your tongue out . . . and feed it to you!”
Mr. Blake grabbed David in a headlock. Two Seniors, P.E. aids, pulled Brian and Tanner apart. Mr. Curtz sprinted across the lawn to the commotion.
Everyone talked excitedly at once. Mr. Curtz cut the four boys out of the herd and, together with Mr. Blake, marched them to his office.
The period was over by then, and the remaining sophomores headed back to class comparing accounts of the dust-up and speculating on punishments.
Eleanor trailed behind them, feeling mixed-up and excited. She was aware of someone else behind her, walking quickly to catch up. She turned to see Robby Guide. She slowed to let him pass her. He stopped in front of her. The excitement had made her bold, and she met his eyes, read them deeply, studied his scars, his hair color, memorizing his shape, weight, handedness, pupils, teeth, everything. She felt his moods in his eyes, and if she could taste him, she had all she’d ever need to be him.
“Henry Creek says you’re Nimirika,” he told her.
“Who?”
“Henry Creek. Shoshone from the dance. Midge’s date, remember?”
She nodded.
“He says you’re Nimirika. It’s a kind of ogre. A cannibal. A witch.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say,” she said coldly but her head buzzed and her legs ached to carry her away.
“Is it true?”
“Get lost, Robby,” she said, and, forcing herself to go slowly, she walked on.
“Leave him alone,” he said. ”David. Leave him alone.”
Eleanor stopped. She turned to look at him. Her fear had turned to anger.
“I said leave David alone.” Robby said, struggling to hold her gaze. He was shaking.
“I’ve left him alone,” she said.
“Do it better.”
“You don’t know anything,” she said.
The bell rang, announcing the start of Spanish. Mr. Blake would be late, but the bell was the bell. Robby left her at a run and disappeared into the building.
Eleanor made her way slowly back to the dressing room.
The next day, the school was abuzz in talk about the fight. David wasn’t allowed to go to the dance; he was suspended for a week. Russell, too. Though everyone said that it had been David who’d started the fight, Russell’s part was not overlooked, and this being another in a string of disciplinary problems, he got the full week instead of a day that Tanner and Brian got for a first offense.
David’s exclamation about Eleanor’s honor also buzzed through the school that whole week. Eleanor felt eyes on her again, measuring her looks against David’s attentions, speculating within the old rumors what she might have done to get them. She tried to ignore it, but it weakened her resolve and late that week she found herself short-tempered at the worst time.
“Miss Anders,” Mrs. Hart said after class. “You’ve once again handed in a terrible paper. You show absolutely no knowledge of the subject matter.”
“I wrote about the short story. I understood it,” she said.
“Oh, you know the words, but not the meaning,” she said. “Didn’t you pay attention during lectures? The story was about hubris and the baseness of marriage.”
“I thought it was about being stupid and losing your boat while senselessly killing ducks.”
“See? You got nothing out of it. You’ve got to learn to be more observant. I’m giving you an F for the paper. You can re-write it over the weekend, but for only half points.”
“I said hubris in my paper,” she said.
“Not in the right context, dear,” she said. She’d turned to her desk and wasn’t even looking at Eleanor anymore. “You used it against nature. That’s not there.”
“It is. I saw it. I pointed it out. I’m right.” Eleanor’s voice grew in volume with each syllable, and the last word was practically screamed.
“Parent-teacher conference is coming up soon,” Mrs. Hart said. “If it is at all possible, could you get your white-trash mother to attend? We have to discuss how this year’s shaping up.” She turned back to her papers. Eleanor was dismissed.
She stormed out of the room and sulked for the rest of the day. Her grades had improved across the board in every class but those Mrs. Hart taught. She was a solid B or B+ everywhere, an A in Spanish thanks to a generous bell-curve she couldn’t defeat. But Mrs. Hart was determined to make her life miserable. Nothing she’d handed in had been good enough. She’d find spelling errors where there were none, disregard Eleanor’s protest as disrespect, and throw out whole assignments when she didn’t agree exactly with Mrs. Hart’s interpretations. She knew that David had approached the short story from the same angle she had. She’d glimpsed it on her desk. He’d received an A; she got an F. It was useless to fight it. She had to conform, get by, and pray she would not have her again next year.
That Saturday, Eleanor found David sitting on her porch. She was going shopping. She considered waiting inside until he left, but Robby’s words rang in her ears. She’d fretted all week about how she’d ruined David’s life. Robby had been right. She had to do better.
She opened the door and walked past him as if he was garbage. She held that image in her mind so she wouldn’t betray herself and run to him.
“Eleanor,” he said, getting up and trotting after her.
“Hello, David,” she said as coldly as she could. “What are you doing trespassing on our property?”
“Eleanor, I know what you’re trying to do,” he said.
“You just don’t know when you’re not wanted,” she said, not taking her eyes off the sidewalk.
“I know why you’re doing this,” he said. “You’re trying to protect me.”
“Get over yourself,” she said, mimicking the girls in the halls.
“Eleanor, I’m going to find it myself. When I do, when I know, when I understand, you’ll have to come back to me. I’ll show you.”
Eleanor kept walking.
“I love you, Eleanor,” he said. “I love you.”
She stopped and looked at him.
“You don’t know anything,” she said.
“No, I don’t,” said David. “Because you won’t tell me. But I can see I’ve got to learn it anyway. That’s why I came here today. To tell you I’m going to find out. I’m going to show you that you can trust me, Eleanor. You always could. I’m your friend.”
“And we’re engaged, right?” Eleanor teased. It was the most unkind thing she’d ever done, and she felt a part of herself die before the sound was out of her mouth. Unable to hide the pain, she turned away and sprinted up the street leaving David behind, watching her go.