Eleanor by Johnny Worthen Read Free Book Online

Eleanor was sure it was David’s mother.
    â€œWe’ll see,” she said. “Things going better at school?”
    â€œGreat!” said the little girl.
    â€œYeah, it’s all right,” said David with less enthusiasm.
    â€œIt just takes some time,” the mother said.
    â€œYeah, but I have nothing in common with anyone. Really.”
    â€œThere’s the shooting.”
    â€œBig deal,” he said. “They don’t know video games or movies or good music or anything. They’re all a bunch of hicks. Russell talks about nothing but shooting animals and hoping someone tries to mess with him so he can gun him down with his dad’s forty-five.”
    â€œHe’s just one kid.”
    â€œYeah, he’s the worst, but he’s just an exaggeration of the others. Really, this is total Hicksville. I don’t know how I ever lived here.”
    â€œDon’t be so dramatic.”
    â€œI don’t know who I am here,” he said.
    â€œYou’ll adapt,” she said.
    â€œYou mean change,” he said bitterly. “What if I don’t want to change? What if I want to stay who and what I was before? I liked who I was. I don’t want to be a beer-swilling shit-kicker from Jamesford.”
    â€œDavid!” his mother chided.
    â€œDavie said a bad word,” chanted the little girl.
    â€œDavid?” his mother said, a threat in her voice.
    He hesitated and then said, “I’m sorry.”
    â€œAdapting is not changing,” his mother said.
    â€œThat’s not true. I either lie or I change, or they do, and they won’t.”
    â€œEveryone’s different in every situation,” his mother said softly. Eleanor heard a moving chair and imagined her sitting beside him. “For example, at home, when dad’s not here, I’m the boss—and don’t forget it. But at work, I’m not. I’m an employee, and I take orders. I can be both people. I’m not changing. I’m adapting.”
    â€œSo I’m supposed to be one person at home and another in public?” he said.
    â€œAren’t you?”
    â€œI don’t want to become a sh—turd-kicker.”
    â€œThen don’t,” she said and kissed him. “Inside you are who you are. Just get by. Survival is adaptation.”
    â€œGlad you’re getting something out of your biology degree, Mom.”
    â€œA buck above minimum wage at Sherman’s Grocery,” she said. “Everything’s working out.”
    They laughed.
    â€œThe shooting’s fun though, isn’t it?”
    â€œIt’s all right. Yeah, it’s fun. I’m good at it. Thanks to Dad.”
    There followed a pause that made Eleanor uneasy.
    â€œDo you have homework?” asked the mother.
    â€œOf course,” said David.
    â€œTake the garbage out before you start. I should make a sandwich for work.”
    Eleanor saw that the garbage cans were in a nook next to the tank, and she jumped with fright. Keeping her head low as if dodging bullets, she scurried away behind the trailers, out the gate, and across the street.
    Once clear, she made her way home carefully. Though she knew where she was with the familiarity of a long-time inhabitant, she looked for new secret places and paths between her house and David’s. She knew she would make this journey again in the day and in the dark, and, as was always her precaution, she did not want to be seen.

CHAPTER SIX
    â€œY our house is neat and clean,” said Stephanie Pearce in her soothing and condescending manner. She sat on the sofa in the Anders’ little house because she might not fit in a chair. She was in her late twenties of indeterminate European descent. Her rosacea was pronounced, made worse by her constant sweating. She was of middle height and upper weight. Eleanor figured her for two-seventy without her eyeliner. She was the town’s only full-time social worker and she was