Pelham High Diaries: Eleanor

by LK Thompson

  2/24

  Four hours is a long time to be ignored. An entire shift went by without any effort on Mike’s part to talk to me. I wish so badly that I didn’t care, but every day since seeing him with that girl has hurt more and more.

  At the end of the night, Crystal stood beside me while I filled the salt and pepper shakers and carried trays of ketchup to the kitchen. These tasks aren’t mine to complete, but I do them anyway. Crystal asked how Everly was doing with dance and mentioned dropping her resume off at Dance by Darlene just last week. I thought about how Mike described Crystal—a lifer. I wanted to encourage her, so I said, “You’d be the best teacher, Crystal. You’re an amazing dancer.”

  She looked down and said, “Yeah, but it’s not like I can put Jimmy’s down on my resume.”

  “I know. They’d be lucky to have you, though.”

  Only a few patrons were at the bar and none of them were rowdy. It was as calm a night as we get at Jimmy’s. Normally, you can tell when there’s danger in the air. An energy zips through the room and radiates off the presence of a creepy or oddly anti-social costumer. During those moments, my friends look out for me. Sometimes I sit in the dressing room to wait and one time Marta even passed the shots out for me. You’re too young! Roy told me you’re only seventeen! She exclaimed.

  So when two tables crashed to the floor and Mike’s figure jumped in front of me, his fist slamming into another mans’ face, I was slack jawed. Like a building falling from the sky—it almost seemed too impossible to comprehend.

  Crystal grabbed my arm and tossed me like a rag doll in the opposite direction of the commotion. Tightlipped, she warned, “Get outta here, Bella. You can’t be here if the police show up.”

  I dropped my apron and sprinted to the dressing room, tucked my coat under my arm and ran out the emergency exit to slip into the parking lot and unchain my bike, which was iced over and frozen to the touch. I could barely feel my hands, but moved swiftly. I was shaking and terrified. Suddenly, Mike grabbed my shoulder and whipped me backwards. I screamed, “Mike!”

  He looked breathless and shaken, a puffy red spot smack on the center of his right cheek. He spoke quietly, touching his welt, “Sorry you had to see that Elle.”

  I fastened my coat around my waist and answered simply, “It’s okay. You scared me.”

  He shut his eyes briefly and spoke through gritted teeth, “No, it’s not okay. That old man’s a damn pervert. When I heard him makin’ comments about you—what was I supposed to do?!”

  He punched someone for me? Violence in the name of another person is confusing. It’s easy to feel disgusted at first. Then, I’m in bed replaying the evening back. Fifty times, sixty times, over and over. Until the gross feeling peels away and I find something else. I’m flattered.

  2/25

  Last night, Taryn showed up at Jimmy’s. I was filling my test tubes shots with a fruit juice and vodka concoction when Crystal tapped me on the shoulder, “Someone’s here for you. Make it quick—Jimmy’s not gonna like this type of visitor. I can tell by the looks of her, she doesn’t tip well.”

  Dread filled me instantly. The last time I had a visitor, it was Eric warning me about Taryn going off the deep end. Then, as predicted, she did and Harlow ended up in the hospital. With my friends, surprises aren’t a good thing.

  I looked up to see Taryn’s small sad eyes staring at me like I was a painting on a museum wall. I stuttered, “Oh my God, Taryn?”

  “Hey.” She looked tiny next to the bar. Like a child. Nothing like the girl PHS knows. A big tough bully. I’m accusatory without effort, “What’re you doing here?”

  “Can I have one of those?” She pointed to the shots in my hand, her voice downtrodden and weak. I’m appalled at her audacity and shook my head. “No. I’m still mad at you.”

  “Please.” She begged and reached for a shot only hesitating a moment before lifting it, wondering if I’ll snatch it back. I know they cost about five cents to make and we charge five bucks each, so it’s not the biggest loss of revenue for Jimmy. A bottle of beer would be a different story. I give in, “Whatever, have one. But, I’m not forgiving you.”

  The commotion aroused Mike from his office, and he approached without caution even though we haven’t spoken normally in forever. “Who’s she?”

  Forgetting that I still hate him, I answered, “This is Taryn.”

  “Oh shit! That’s the crazy girl, right?” He raised his hand to his mouth and laughed. I blushed and Taryn is quick to answer, “Yep. That’s me! In the flesh.”

  I faced Mike, “Listen, I’ve got to pass these around and woo the crowd. Watch her for me, will you? Maybe take her to the dressing room so Jimmy doesn’t see her on the cameras?”

  He smiled and it’s our first friendly communication. “Of course. Anything for you.”

  Snaking through the crowds, I slipped away. Some regulars buy the shots as a reason to tip me and some buy them because they’re the cheapest, stiffest drink on the menu (or so I tell them), but either way, it was a busy night. An hour passed before I could catch my first break and make my way back to the dressing room. Marta’s walking off stage, coated in shimmery body glitter and holding her pink bra top in one hand. She’s tugging a clip-in long braid out of her hair and I could see Taryn watching her closely, zeroing in on her pink pasties barely covering her nipples. I hardly noticed that stuff anymore. Mike sat across from Taryn and handed her a glass of water. I could tell she was not sober, so I guessed she had weaseled more alcohol out of Mike while I was busy. She was swaying in her seat.

  The sight of her made me angry. I asked, “Why are you here, Taryn? Why now?”

  Slurry and in a voice only slightly louder than when she arrived, she answered, “Because it was all fake. All of it. Morgan doesn’t like me, you don’t like me, the whole school thinks I’m a murderer, and my parents are splitting up and forcing me to go on meds for my crazy brain. It’s just…I don’t know who the hell I am or why I’m even alive.”

  She was floundering like a fish out of water. I couldn’t help but feel something for her. As horrible as she’s been, Taryn doesn’t handle change well. And it occurred to me that all of this might kill her.

  But, I’m still mad.

  “Okay. Well. None of us do,” I said, “It still doesn’t give you the right to do what you did. I mean, you’re dangerous, Taryn. Your anger is what brought me here. Away from you and Morgan! A space for me, where I can grow—I’ve been trying all year actually, not that any of you would notice. But, here’s the thing. You can’t look to Morgan for answers. She has her own issues. Fix yourself. Or at least try. You never try.”

  Crystal walked in. She’s up next. It’s a full house and Jimmy wants the stage occupied, to keep the crowd happy and paying. Money is everywhere, and I almost laugh as I see Marta crawling across the floor to gather rogue singles. Crystal turned, “Jimmy wants you on the floor, Bella. Who’s this?”

  I nod to Taryn and tell her, “That’s Taryn. Mike’s keeping an eye on her for me while I work the floor.”

  A laugh burst from Crystal, “The Taryn?!” She turned to Taryn, “Wow! It’s an honor to be in your presence, Taryn.”

  Taryn appeared flustered and out of her league. Her voice stuttered. She asked, “Huh?”

  I shrugged my shoulders and Crystal continued, “Welcome to the land of the misfits. Unlike Bella here, you’re right where you belong.” Then, she grabbed a beer from the mini fridge under her vanity and held it up, “Cheers!”

  I was on the floor for another stint when the music changed to Crystal’s playlist. I felt a hand on my shoulder. Roy was inches from me, his expression serious. “Elle. Go check on your friend.”

  “Why, what’s the matter?” I asked.

  “Mike’s giving her a hard time—he does this sometimes with new people. Not to mention, he’s been pouring straight vodka into her cup for the last hour.”

  Not water.

  Racing into the backroom, I see that nobody�
��s watching Taryn. She’d moved from the folding chair to the couch and curled herself into a ball in the corner. Mike and Stephanie were laughing, hysterical over Taryn’s vulnerable state. I’m sure they felt she deserved all the misfortune that found her, but I couldn’t watch. I grabbed Taryn’s arm, “You should go home. I’ll get you a car. You can pick yours up tomorrow. My shift’s ending soon and this place gets pretty crazy after one of Crystal’s performances.”

  “Sounds perfect for me, then.”

  “You really don’t know what you’re talking about, Taryn,” I warned, “And I hate to state the obvious, but you’re drunk which is dangerous. In a place like this, you need your guard up.”

  “Maybe I am drunk. Who cares? Seriously. If you can name one person that cares about me, I’ll get up and leave right now.”

  I struggled to respond. It was a trap and this was a dire situation. Then, she asked, “Is that the guy you like? Mike?”

  “We actually just broke up. But, I don’t know. There’s something about him—I can’t turn it off.”

  Taryn frowned, “Poor Craig.”

  Anger eroded me. “Don’t say that Taryn! You of all people don’t get to say that. I feel badly about Craig. I actually really like him. He’s thoughtful and kind and everything I’ve been wanting. But Mike, is…different. And last night he punched a guy for me.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Wow.”

  “Yeah, one of our regulars made a remark about my ass and Mike clocked him. I’ve never felt this way. Believe me, I’m trying not to.”

  A slight smirk rests on her lips, “You were right, Elle.”

  “Huh? About what?”

  “Back in September, I wanted you to try out for the play so you could spend all your time with me. I wanted you to ditch Harlow and stay loyal to Morgan and I because I had a plan. I was going to give Morgan her first boyfriend—Devin McCabe. I thought I could pull off the unthinkable, but I was dead wrong and shoulda listened to you. This is where I belonged. Not at PHS, with everyone who thinks I’m a disease. I don’t have one friend there. Even after what I did for Morgan, I don’t even have her. Other than Eric, I’m alone.” She stared into my eyes and pleaded, “Please don’t make me go home now, Elle. Please. Just one more drink.”

  I relented because she’s being so nice. She’s Taryn, my best friend from childhood, “Fine,” I said, “One shot. One! I’ll even have one with you, okay?”

  Taryn lifted her shot glass to mine and said, “Friends?”

  I shook my head, “Not until you make it right to Harlow.” Then, I held my glass up, “To new beginnings. No more pacts. No more covering for bad behavior. If you wanna be friends, you’ve gotta earn it.” Then, I clinked her my cup with hers and swallowed the icy vodka in my glass. Chills ran down my throat and into my stomach. I shivered. Crystal tapped Taryn’s right arm, and signaled for her to follow, “It’s my last song. Come on—I can use you.”

  Taryn looked afraid, her left hand outstretched and reaching for mine. Jimmy’s strict no distracting from the dancers rule looped in my mind, but this was different. Crystal was inviting us. I’d never been in this position and kept my eyes on Crystal until we were there, onstage in front of a crowded room. I don’t scan the room for familiar eyes—not even Mike’s. Instead, I turned my head to the ceiling and feel the music slamming against my chest. We’re backup dancers on a glittery stage.

  We’re not dancing for them. We’re dancing for ourselves.

  2/26

  I’ve been battling with myself over Taryn showing up to Jimmy’s yesterday. Why would I allow her to stay? To talk to my friends! To dance on stage! Rule number one: Never invite a vampire into your house!

  It was liberating, yes, but that’s the problem with Taryn. She does something heinous and then is so humble and meek that you ache to forgive her. But I can’t! What she did to Harlow was unforgivable. She didn’t egg her house this time, she tortured her! And while she may seem more approachable than even Harlow right now, it doesn’t make it right.

  I have to be stronger when it comes to her. There’s no other way she’ll change. And that’s exactly what she needs to do. I can’t do it for her.

  2/27

  Taryn showed up again. Even after I kept my distance from her at school, she still came to Jimmy’s. This time, the crowd was smaller and Jimmy had eyes on her. She wore a new outfit, her hair straightened to perfection. She was no longer wearing a mask of desperation, which is what I was afraid of. One time at Jimmy’s and she was suddenly feeling right at home. She was probably going to demand she be paid for her time on stage.

  I lowered my gaze and went on with my job, distributing alcohol to tired old businessmen. The clientele varies greatly, depending on the day.

  Mike was there, too, as always, standing in the distance and staring. I brushed up against him accidentally and his hands grabbed my waist. For a moment, I rested against his chest and inhaled his scent. A drug to me. His fingers released me, and I wondered what had happened to the girl. I went to find Roy, “Do you ever see Mike with that blonde girl anymore?”

  “C’mon, Bella. You were doing so good.”

  “Don’t make me sound like an addict. Just tell me. I can’t ask him.”

  “No. The day you caught him with her, he screamed for her to stay away from here. As far as I know, she’s listened. She’ll be back eventually though. She’s been coming by for years—and from what I’ve gathered, Mike is an integral part of her life.”

  “What does that mean?” I was stunned and terrified to hear what he was about to say.

  “She’s got demons. He helps her stay medicated. He’s never told me that, but that’s the word around the kitchen.”

  I walked into the bar room and watched Mike. His face lit up when our eyes met. Was he a drug dealer?

  Just a rumor. It had to be. Mike drifted into his office and a text buzzed my phone, Code 5050. He was testing me. Would I do it? A man leaned over and growled in my ear, “You gonna get up on that stage again? C’mon, tell Jimmy I wanna see you back up there. Tell him I said he needs to take out the trash. You’re hotter than that broad.” The man pointed to Marta and I attempted to keep my cool. I wanted to punch him.

  I smiled sweetly, “No, sorry! Not tonight! Can I get you a shot?”

  “I don’t wanna shot. I wanna see you get up there.” His wrinkled finger plucked the strap of my tank top, “You don’t need one of them fancy bikinis. Just take it off, shouldn’t be too hard.”

  Too close. He was inches from my face and smelled like bourbon. Or whiskey. Or whatever the really foul smelling one is. As he moved in, I imagined his yellow teeth talking to his wife this way. He wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t get this close to her either. I backed myself against the bar, “Okay! Why don’t you get back to your seat and I’ll send a server over.”

  “A server? For what! I don’t need a damn server.” Slurry speech sounded different on a man of his age. Yellow teeth. Freckled hands. Rancid breath. I’d never been in this position before.

  His hand reached for my waist, and I backed up further. Somewhere the signals got crossed. To him, this meant to grab more. I floundered, small and alone pulling for his leech arm to release me. Then, in a flash, I watched him fly backwards off his stool, and scream in pain. The man yelled for security. Behind him, Taryn stood, her fists balled up and shaking.

  Jimmy moved swiftly, grabbing Taryn by the shoulders.

  “She’s gotta go.”

  Taryn was incredulous, “Me?! What about him?! He’s a scumbag! He was harassing Eleanor! He should go to freaking jail, acting like that!”

  Jimmy wasn’t yelling but his voice was firm, “You, hush! Bella, walk her out.” Taryn screeched, “Why does everyone keep calling Eleanor, Bella?!”

  Cupping her elbow in my hand, I did as I was instructed, still shaking from the whole encounter. Outside, I looked at her, “Taryn. Just go. What’re you doing here anyway?”

  “I was having another shitty day and wanted a s
hot,” She explained, “Believe me, I did not know what I’d be walking into. And what’s up with your boyfriend? He did nothing.”

  My heart pounded, “He knows we can’t make a scene. And he’s not my boyfriend. Not even close.”

  “Right. Whatever. Listen, I’m sorry I screamed at the old, dirtbag perv, but I was trying to stick up for you. I wasn’t trying to cause a scene at all. I would think you’d know that.”

  I took a deep breath to calm myself, “Did you…hit him?”

  “Yeah. Might have dug my nails into his arm a smidge too.” She lifted her hand. “Broke a nail.”

  I wanted to laugh. Suddenly, she’s grade school Taryn with freckles and mean right hook defending our turf on the playground.

  “Ouch,” I said smiling, “That’s gonna leave a mark.” Taryn smiled and said, “Sorry if I was outta line. Miss you, Elle.”

  “Thanks Taryn. I’ve missed you too. For years.”

  “I know.” She turned to walk away, and then turned back to me, “Hey Elle. You don’t need to take that shit. From anyone.”

  Inside, Mike asked me if I was okay. He pulled me into his office and begged me desperately, “I can’t see you and not be with you. Don’t do this to me. Do you see what you’re doing to me?”

  But, who is doing what to who? When did the lines become blurred?

  2/28

  Contrary to popular belief, I don’t put a lot of weight on Babble opinions. It’s nothing but words and empty gossip to me. Seeing my name in the mix can give me a bit of a dip or a lift, but that’s it. I don’t care the way Harlow, Morgan, and Taryn do. Or did.

  So, I don’t know why it matters today. Babble’s being mean, so what?