help.â
âOkay,â Tabitha said heavily. âBut youâve got to be more careful, cupcake.â
Tabitha rocked the shaking girl in her arms for a long time.
When sheâd calmed down, Tabitha said, âI bet youâre hungry.â
Eleanor nodded.
âGet those steaks out,â she said. âYou need protein.â
The steaks were old, left over from her Nebraska trip. She thawed two, knowing that Tabitha wouldnât have any. Lately her stomach rebelled against anything but the blandest food.
After dinner, the two played cards on the kitchen table. Eleanor could see that Tabitha was tired, but she insisted on the game.
âYou know, sweetie, Iâm not always going to be here,â said Tabitha, putting down a two.
âDonât talk that way,â Eleanor said, drawing a card.
âEven without cancer, parents go before their kids. Itâs okay.â
Eleanor put down a jack. Tabitha took it.
âWeâve got to think about it, cupcake. You still have three years of school.â
âI donât need school,â she said.
âYes, you do,â she said. âIâve been thinking that itâs a good thing for you to stretch out a little and interact more with the other kids. I know youâre scared and suspicious, and you should be. But you need to learn about them so you can be among them the rest of your life.â
Eleanor drew another card. She pretended to concentrate on her options and then finally laid down a seven.
âYouâre a fine girl,â Tabitha said. âYouâll be a fine woman. You can be anything you want to be.â
Eleanor shot her mother a look. When it dawned on Tabitha, they both broke out laughing.
âDo you want the seven?â asked Eleanor.
âNo.â Tabitha drew a card.
âMomma, I donât want to think about it. Weâre okay now. Thatâs all that matters. When things change, weâll see where we are then, okay? Plans just lead to disappointment.â
âThatâs not true, Eleanor,â said Tabitha. âWe should have a plan. Just in case.â
âNot tonight, Momma,â Eleanor said.
âOkay, cupcake. Gin.â
The school was abuzz with Eleanorâs yap. If there was any doubt where the sound had come from before, Barbara, Crystal, and Penelope had made sure everyone knew that Eleanor had gone feral after being teased. She heard the talk in the halls before she was even in the school. She felt the stares and noted how the others stepped out of her way when she moved to her locker.
Her mother had told her to act like nothing had happened, and if that wasnât possible, to act like sheâd been in a fight and won it. âWear it like a trophy,â sheâd told her.
She was trying. In English class she stared down Barbara and Penelope by retreating deep into her own skull, imagining her eyes to be medieval arrow slits in a fortress wall. Safe behind yards of stone, she froze her expression with an unnatural stillness that finally made all the gawkers look away.
David tried to communicate sympathy and curiosity in a single look that Eleanor acknowledged with only a twitch of her lip, a brief chink in the wall, a smile of thanks.
âFriday there will be no school, as you know,â said Mrs. Hart. âItâs the Fall School Rodeo at the Center and I expect everyone to be there to support our Cowboys. I wonât be taking roll, but I will notice if anyone isnât there.â
Mrs. Hart looked quizzically at the class, perhaps sensing something she didnât know.
âLetâs discuss Room 101,â she said picking up her copy of 1984. Sheâd promised to be done with the book by Halloween next week.
âRussell Liddle,â Mrs. Hart said, making the boy jerk up from his doodling. âWhat does Room 101 say about the stateâs omniscience?â
âUm,â he said. âThat it wants some?â
A
Landon Dixon, Giselle Renarde, Beverly Langland