Pelham High Diaries: Eleanor

by LK Thompson

  Jake chuckled and asked, “So, what do you think? Do I look tough? For how much it hurt, I’m kinda surprised I don’t have a black eye and a broken nose.”

  “Yeah, you look real tough, Jake. For all anyone knows, you won the fight.”

  Jake was smiling so genuinely that it reminded me of so many months ago, when we were a couple, a real one, and so much was different. He asked, “You are with Craig, aren’t you? Because you’re like, all he talks about.”

  Ugh. My heart stiffened and I managed a small smile. “Really?” I asked, “I thought he’d moved on. To Annabelle.”

  “Oh, Annabelle’s no match for you. You know that.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him and asked, “Couldn’t keep you on a leash, though, could I?”

  “Sorry, Elle. I was a jerk.” A familiar twinkle returned to Jake’s eyes and he laughed, admitting, “Michelle’s super shaken up by the whole thing. She thinks she’s next! You’re not gonna kick her ass, are you?”

  Jake’s laugh is contagious and I can’t help but tease. “Oh please,” I said, “Tell her I’d never hurt a fly.”

  “I actually will, so she stops obsessing over it. She’s driving me nuts.” Jake shifted his weight and even though the second bell has rung and I’m supposed to be in lunch, we don’t move. He asked, “Do you think if we’d never broken up, PHS wouldn’t be such a hostile environment? It kinda feels like the whole school is falling apart.”

  I’m sad immediately and it must show because Jake placed his arm around my shoulders and comforted me, “Don’t get down about it. I’m sure Harlow will come back.”

  “I miss her,” I said. The familiarity of his arm wrapped around me and the way he smells. It sinks in, then, I asked, “You wanna know something?”

  “I’m not totally sure, but shoot. What?”

  “I wanted to win this year. I wanted to prove to everyone that I’m not some doormat for guys to stomp all over. That I could be a player just like you. I wanted to finally stand victorious above all you guys who treat girls like crap. But, any success I’ve had feels like a failure. Look at everything—it’s an epic mess. I feel like total shit because it doesn’t feel good to be careless with people’s emotions. I haven’t won anything. I feel like a bitch.” I took a deep breath and then turned to him, “Promise me something, Jake. Don’t treat Michelle the way you treated me. If you start liking someone else, break up with her.”

  Jake nodded obediently, “Promise. I was an asshole to you and I can’t even explain why. I’m sorry.” He released me and asked, “So? Are we friends?”

  “Yeah, friends.”

  Closure is an interesting concept because I didn’t know I cared. I didn’t think the chapter was still open on Jake. In fact, I’d swear on my life it wasn’t. But, when he stood there, offering me his friendship, a fight inside me simmered and I realized something.

  I’m so done with Mike.

  And I’m so done with Jimmy’s too.

  3/13

  It’s 4:27pm and I should be clocking into my shift, but instead I’m just getting the courage to dial Jimmy’s office line. I can’t come in. I’m done. No, no notice.

  “Good luck, Bella.” Jimmy’s nice enough about it. I can tell by his tone he’s been through this before. Yet after we hang up, a ripple moves through the restaurant and I receive a text from nearly everyone. But not Mike.

  3/14

  Morgan was standing on her front lawn today, a cat playing by her feet. She was wearing a big winter coat and holding a long piece of wheat grass outstretched while the cat paws it away. She’s a stranger to me in that moment and I can imagine she’s another girl my age, completely at peace. A girl without demons.

  I pedaled by briefly closing my eyes and wishing that maybe she is. There are three months left in the school year. And if the last three months taught me anything, it’s that anything can happen in that amount of time.

  3/15

  She was there today. Drifting through the halls, the only noise of her arrival is the fanfare that surrounds her. Swarms of students, aiming their cameras at her, shouting their excitement. She came back! I can’t believe it! Can you? I’m so happy! She looks amazing! All of us digested whatever we could of her appearance in the time she allowed.

  Harlow was different—a long metal knee brace hugging half her leg, a bandage taped to her neck. Her hair was cut above her shoulders and her mouth had changed, though I can’t pinpoint why. The vision of her made my entire body quake. I couldn’t steady my hands. Seeing her makes it real. All this time, I’d been calling and writing, but there was no response. It had started to feel like make believe.

  But, seeing her meant it was real. My best friend was tormented. She almost died. I could have stopped it.

  Taryn and Morgan glued themselves together while I repelled from them, determined to make my allegiances clear. I answer to nobody. If Harlow wanted to talk to me, I would be available.

  Harlow arrived to school late with Ellie Rossi, her new friend—an interesting choice on her part. Ellie’s a girl from the pool of PHS outcasts that mostly walk the halls alone and are only noticed when we’re forced to pair up with one in a class. The wonderment of how their friendship materialized interests me, but I keep it to myself.

  Her arrival buzzed through the halls and into every classroom, not by Babble for once, but word of mouth. My instincts told me to run to her. To hold her books, help her through the messy conversations and wide-eyed stares. But, in second period, I hear Vicki Bozzi talking to Sandra Marks, “I went to say hi, but she barely smiled. I think she’s still mad about the whole thing.”

  “I would be too!”

  “Totally. We gotta give her space.”

  Give her space.

  Taryn and Morgan have been drenched in therapy since the accident and often mention the need for space. It’s what Harlow deserves, they say. Even if I’m not sure they believe it.

  At lunch, I don’t touch my food, waiting for Harlow to appear. I reserved a table to sit alone, explaining to Morgan and Taryn, “I wanna be available if Harlow needs me.”

  But I guess they switched her lunch period, because she never showed. It’s Craig that materializes beside me instead. He asked, “Cool if I sit here?”

  I nodded and moved my books out of his way. “Yeah, of course. How is everything?”

  “Good! I figured you’d be wrecked with Harlow’s first day back and might need a friend.”

  “As long as it’s cool with Annabelle, I’d love the company.”

  Craig blushed, and admitted, “Oh, um. We decided to be friends. I was a little mentally preoccupied, I guess.”

  Harlow always told me I was a touchy person. She’d say it was how I got my way so often because people cave when someone touches them. Yet, that’s not why I do it. I do it because I can’t help it. And when I reached for Craig’s hand, I’m surprised he doesn’t pull it away.

  The closest I got to Harlow came the end of the day. Taryn and Morgan stood like statues in the lobby, staring at her as if she were a figment of their imagination. It was odd, really. Like a fireworks show, they couldn’t pull their eyes from. I wondered if Harlow noticed or cared? Will she come back tomorrow?

  3/17

  I couldn’t sleep again. A text on my phone read, You up? I think we need to talk.

  It’s Mike and his words puzzled me. There’s nothing left to say. Every day since my last shift at Jimmy’s, I feel confident that I did the right thing. I texted back, Going to sleep. And we’re good. No need to talk. See you around.

  Was it too final? I hoped.

  Minutes later, another text came through. This one was much longer and I could sense his impatience. He wrote, See you around? Elle, come on. Don’t be like that. I still wanna see you. I think about you every day. Working at Jimmy’s without you is literally killing me. I can’t believe you quit without telling me. And I’m sorry about the other day when I ran off. I just can’t get in trouble with the cops and thought that girl i
n the car was gonna narc on me. I would never leave you alone like that if I didn’t think it was serious. Anyway, I hope you weren’t mad. I’d love to see you again. Can I take you out sometime to make it up to you?

  I’ve always been a girl who goes easy on men. They ogle, I smile politely. They catcall and I wave. They just can’t help themselves, I’d think. Now I know the truth of why. Not enough people told them to shut up.

  I typed back, I don’t think so, Mike. It’s not only because of the other night, but all of the nights recently. Your relationship with Cara, your ability to let men at Jimmy’s treat all the women poorly—not just me. Your anger. It’s too much for me right now. I’m sorry.

  In a flash, I can feel his temper take hold of him, and my phone buzzes, Are you kidding me? My anger? I was punching the asshat who cheated on YOU. Outta respect for you! And I always stuck up for you at Jimmy’s. If you can’t see that, you’re delusional. I thought you were better than that, Bella.

  This is where I’d grovel. Beg for him to find me attractive again. I didn’t mean to be rude! I’m still the perfect girl you dream of, I promise! I shoved my phone under my pillow and sat tall as the constriction in my chest burst like a dam. Of course this was gonna hurt—I cared about Mike.

  So, I let the tears come, buckets of them. Even as I laid down to sleep, I whimpered and hugged my pillow, unable to catch my breath. Tossing and turning, turning and tossing. The minutes crept on, but I couldn’t find sleep. A nightmare would’ve been more welcome than the thoughts in my head. All I could think was, I gotta fix this feeling. I’ve gotta make it better. How?

  Harlow. Harlow. Harlow.

  Just one name imprinted on my every thought.

  Why was it all hitting me now after texting with Mike? It’s been a month since the accident! By the light of my nightstand, I sat up to find paper and a pen. I wrote an entire page of I’m sorry’s. Then, I composed myself and wrote something happy. Something to help me rest after.

  Harley, I don’t know what to say, but you need to know how great you look. I love the way you cut your hair, and the other bruises and leg brace thing aren’t super noticeable at all. I’m so happy you decided to come back to PHS. Do you think you’ll go to prom? I think you should! Want me to be your date?

  Anyway, I don’t know if you want to be friends, but I love you. I do. Do you still love me too?

  Love, El El Bo Bell

  I sealed it into a tight square with her name perfectly printed on one corner. It was only then that I could close my eyes and sleep.

  Fourth period. I was prepared to have my first interaction with Harlow and couldn’t contain myself, leaning against the cinderblock wall, my head down. I was going to catch her like a fish on a line. My note to her was stuffed in my palm and when the crowd parted to reveal her, I lifted my hand and placed it into hers. A seamless transaction. A professional drug deal.

  Harlow looked down at the note in her hand and whispered, “What the hell?” I pranced off. Walking away from her, my heart floated for the first time in so long.

  3/18

  I should’ve known Harlow wouldn’t write me back and I should’ve known a year of lies couldn’t just get covered up with one stupid note.

  I decided to invite Craig to The Bean. We were gonna talk. Like, talk talk. We sat in the booth positioned furthest from the frigid wind gusts blowing through the doors each time a new customer arrived. I just wanted to get the whole thing over with because I hadn’t planned out what to say, but I had an idea of what I wanted to come of it.

  Friendship.

  A curse word for high school boys, but I’m willing to put it out there because as flawed as I’ve been, I’m stronger too. I can do this. And maybe it will lead to more, but my goal was to offer honesty without over-promising for once. No carrot stick dangling in the distance.

  “So, let me get this straight. You wanna be friends?” Craig asked honestly, nothing appealing about the proposition laying before him whatsoever.

  “Not like BFF or anything,” I said, “But my priorities are all messed up and I don’t know what to do. I like you, Craig. Really. But, I can’t wrap my head around us. Yes, I originally wanted to date you to make Jake jealous, but then I got sucked in too deep at my job and the accident with Harlow happened and my perfect plan for this year kinda blew apart. I don’t wanna keep dragging you down with me, but when I look back on this year, meeting you is one of the best things to happen to me.”

  He asked, “Is this because you’re still talking to that guy?”

  “Mike? No. No way. That I can promise you. We’re done. And I quit working there too. But before I do anything else, I’ve gotta get right with my friends.”

  “I never said you couldn’t.”

  I sighed loudly, “I know. You’ve actually never been anything but understanding, which I don’t understand, honestly. I don’t deserve it.”

  Craig rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine,” He said, “Do what you gotta do. No pressure from me. I’ll be here if you need me.”

  I hated myself for putting him through this torture. Being honest sucked. It would be so much easier to just kiss him and see him smile.

  “Promise you’re not mad?”

  “Not mad. Sorta feels weird, but I’m happy you’re telling me the truth. And like I said, I’ll be here if you need me.”

  Craig’s got this way about him that puts me at ease. When we get up to leave, I can sense eyes on us, but I don’t yearn to put on a show for them. I just want to be myself with Craig. Hopefully, it will be enough.

  3/19

  Taryn had a party tonight and Craig and I went together, just like before the accident. Taryn begged, “Please, come. I know you still hate me, but I need you there. Please!”

  She was so desperate that I agreed. Her boyfriend, Eric, would be there, and I didn’t want to embarrass her in front of him, but I also knew—we couldn’t stay long. Standing in the Casey ballroom was like standing on the moon. It was Taryn’s house, but nothing felt familiar. The people. The music. The air filling the space around us. None of it was how I remembered it.

  Morgan was alone in the kitchen, a bottle of champagne gripped tightly in her fist, a forcefield surrounding her. Old feelings of insecurity crept into my mind and I slipped my hand into Craig’s. I wanted to approach Morgan, but her veneer is cold and not one person from the party will go near her. Even Taryn, the scariest girl in Pelham will get more attention from our classmates than Morgan. Still, I take a few steps closer and joked, “So…this looks…fun.”

  My sarcasm is too thick and I think about apologizing, but Morgan’s cheeks filled with color at my words, rendering me speechless. I wondered if I’ve ever seen that happen before. She’s never been one to get embarrassed or wear blush for that matter, so I find myself squinting to observe her. “How are you feeling, Morg? Getting to all the right doctor appointments?” Then, I looked to the bottle in her hand, “Guess you’re allowed to drink. Or did they not have a rule about that?”

  Morgan cracked a faint smile and answered, “Lots of therapy, but no pills. What you said, the thing about becoming my mom, really hit me. I quit cold turkey the morning of Harlow’s accident. Other than headaches and some anxiety, it’s going well. Like, as well as it can, I guess,” She paused and then admitted, “Been spending time with my Dad, too.”

  “Wow, Morg, that’s awesome.” I said and I meant it. I asked, “You gonna stick around here?”

  The color faded from her face as she looked down. “I guess,” She said, “Nowhere else to go.”

  It’s a sad answer but I don’t feel bad. When you’re the bad guy, you can’t do that. You’ve gotta fight for redemption, not melt into a puddle. I knew I’d have to leave if I didn’t want her to drag me down with her.

  “Okay well, we’re taking off. Tell Taryn for me.” I waved and didn’t look back until we were outside. From there, I watched Morgan slip onto the back deck, pushing each of her legs through the wooden slats. She tilted her head
backwards and drank from the champagne bottle slowly and diligently. A knot tightened in my chest and I wished so badly I hadn’t seen it. What am I supposed to do with her? What the hell can I possibly do?

  3/20

  I got in my car and visited her. Yep, you heard me. Drove right into her driveway and parked. Marched right up her walkway and knocked. Harlow herself answered, which almost blew me right outta of my Doc Marten’s. She was the Mona Lisa, so close that I could touch her, but I knew that wasn’t allowed. No, no, no, no. That was definitely not allowed.

  I offered my biggest and best smile, “Hey! Can you talk for a minute?”

  My voice is light and happy. I hoped she’d find it inviting. But, she’s mad and asks, “Why Eleanor? What the hell do you want?” Her voice was sharp and unfamiliar. “You wanna give me another stupid note that talks about my haircut and prom? Why don’t you crawl back to Taryn, where you belong?” Her words were sour, mouth puckering at the taste of them. This was nothing like the Harlow I knew.

  I stepped backwards, my confidence tumbling, “I guess I deserve that.”

  Not budging, she persisted, “What then? Seriously, what do you want from me?”

  Pointing to the car in her driveway, I stuttered, “I…I got my license. Not that I really told anyone. Or cared. Ya know, since I’ve been driving my Mom’s van illegally for so long.”

  I meant it as an ice breaker, but her expression remained unchanged, “Oh. Must’ve slipped my mind in all the excitement. Congrats.”

  This was going badly. I needed to just say what I came to say and leave her alone. Space. She needed space.

  “So listen, I know my note was stupid, and I don’t blame you for hating it, but it was hard for me because I didn’t have anything to tell you, per se, but I had to write you. I sent flowers and cards to the hospital without hearing anything back. I was too scared to visit because I figured your parents would kill me if they saw me because I’m friends with Taryn and guilty by association.” I took a deep breath before continuing.