Eleanor & Park

“Nothing before you counts, he said. And I can’t even imagine an after.”

“It’s going to be okay, Park said. She nodded. Right. Because I love you. She laughed. Is that why? It is, actually.”

“I don’t know how to say good-bye to you, she said. He smoothed her hair off her face. He’d never seen her so fair. Then don’t. But I have to go.… So go, he said with his hands on her cheeks. But don’t say good-bye. It’s not good-bye.”

“Why do the X-Men need another girl telepath? she asked. This one has purple hair. It’s all so sexist. Park’s eyes got wide. Well, sort of wide. Sometimes she wondered if the shape of his eyes affected how he saw things. That was probably the most racist question of all time. The X-Men aren’t sexist, he said, shaking his head. They’re a metaphor for acceptance; they’ve sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them. Yeah, she said, but— There’s no but, he said, laughing. But, Eleanor insisted, the girls are all so stereotypically girly and passive. Half of them just think really hard. Like that’s their superpower, thinking. And Shadowcat’s power is even worse—she disappears.”

“Whenever he saw Eleanor, he couldn’t think about pulling away. He couldn’t think about anything at all. Except touching her. Except doing whatever he could or had to, to make her happy.”