The next morning the young rat awoke with terrible twinges in her abdomen. Instinctively, she held her stomach when sitting up and swung her legs out of the bed. After the return of her mother, Eleanor had had bizarre nightmares the remaining night. She couldn't remember what exactly had happened. What had stuck in her memory, however, was her mother, who had torn her daughter's clothes to tatters brutally, had placed her in front of a mirror and had screeched, "Look at yourself! Look closely! You're a woman now!" Then she had jerked the hands off the face of the sobbing girl and had forced her to look at her disfigured, naked body. Eleanor had screamed from disgust and self-hatred and had cursed her mother for passing on her genes to her, for giving life to her.
She instantly felt nauseous and hurried to get to the bathroom. There, she hunkered over the basin and waited until the nausea went by. Sweat ran over Eleanor's forehead. She panted for air and tried to focus her thoughts on something comforting. She remembered lying on the lawn in the park during summer break and watching the clouds. It helped, the pain in Eleanor's stomach eased. She gulped, turned away from the basin and took off her nightgown. Yet a little shaky, she entered the shower and turned on the water. How good this felt ...
When she left the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her body and another one around her dripping wet hair, she already heard the jingling of the dishes from downstairs. Her father would prepare breakfast since her disaffected mother would most likely not be able to do so this morning. And indeed: when Eleanor came downstairs, her father already bustled between the kitchen table and the kitchenette.
"Good morning, Eleanor!" he greeted his daughter. "What do you want for breakfast?" He sounded fervid and grinned widely. It was a bad attempt to suppress the events of yesterday.
"Granola," Eleanor answered shortspoken. She decided not to bring up his not very authentic good mood. Within seconds, her father had filled a bowl with everything that she fancied and set it down in front of her.
"Enjoy your meal!" he called a little too loud and gave his daughter a fillip to boot.
"Pappa?" Eleanor said suspiciously. Her father's behavior was a bit fishy. "Is everything OK?"
"Of course!" he responded, almost indignantly. He placed Eleanor's hand on the spoon, clasped her fingers around the handle and moved it over to the bowl. "Now eat." Eleanor obeyed immediately.
"I have brooded over everything quite long tonight, you know, and I have resolved to use the remaining weeks in the lab best possible. There's no need being pessimistic." He leaned back and smiled at his daughter confidently. He was darn good at concealing his true feelings. While Eleanor ate, her father observed all of her moves. She didn't like that at all, but she allowed it.
When she pushed the bowl away and leaned over the table to thank him with a kiss for the delicious breakfast, he took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes.
"I hope you know that I love you and that you make me proud." His eyes gleamed, they were filled with tears. Eleanor walked over to him and hugged him close.
"I know that, thank you, Pappa. I love you, too." She gave him a kiss on the cheek, took her school bag and waved goodbye.
"Have fun!" he wished her and smiled. Heartfelt, this time. I will, Eleanor thought. And she really meant it.
--
When she entered the school grounds, countless students sat or lay outstretched on the lawn and enjoyed the warm rays of the sun.
"Hey, Eleanor!" Of course it escaped none of her tormentors that she walked along the pavement towards the main entrance. "Been 'thunderstruck' yesterday?" they brawled. It was known that Eleanor was the only one who had the heart to go outside during a thunderstorm "to be close to nature". She raised her hand as a sign of greeting, but didn't deign to look at anybody. This gesture caused the majority of the attenders on the lawn to start cackling. The rat girl didn't mind. She pushed open the front doors and disappeared inside the school. Like yesterday, there wasn't anybody coming across her on the corridor and Eleanor's locker didn't contain any garbage or likewise adorable devises of her classmates. It was the quiet before the storm, but she knew how to prepare.
She exchanged some books and pulled out a writing pad and a pencil just the moment the bell announced the approaching begin of the first period. The doors of the main entrance flew open and the boys and girls of St. Canard High School made their way to the classrooms. Eleanor cowered behind a trophy showcase and waited. She didn't have to hold out long, for Preena and her clique were among the first who passed her. The rat girl gave the girls some time and then followed them with sufficient "safety margin". Eleanor could hear what they discussed.
"Say, Preena, what will you be wearing at Anthony's party?" Hannah asked curiously. She possibly hoped to snap up some useful advice. So was Eleanor's intention: she would gather information that was supposed to show her what she could change about herself and what she'd rather let alone. She'd only add some intellectual spice to it. It was primarily an "experiment" after all.
"It's quite simple: something that turns on the boys!" Preena bragged. "I bought a freaking glamorous dress in Italy. You'll keel over!" She proudly lifted her nose heavenward.
"Tell us, what does it look like?" Hannah begged.
"Hot!" Preena savored taking up the supreme hierarchy level in her circle of friends and that the other girls were looking up to her.
"Oh, Preena, specify it, will you!" Celeste grouched.
"What could such a dress look like?" Preena sounded as if she tried to make clear the essential principles of sex appeal to a couple of preschool children.
"Red!" the answer came quick like a shot. Preena nodded and added, "And it places emphasis on my charms." The girls whistled appreciatively.
Eleanor busily scribbled on her writing pad. She wasn't dumb, she knew that most of the boys paid attention to the outward appearance. But her focus lay primarily on taking in the girl's moves and on getting a rough idea of what kind of clothes they preferred. The interspersed comments about Anthony's party and who would be there (which was what the clique was currently talking about) was only useful additional information. After all, she didn't plan on walking about as revealing as Preena. She would create an intelligent mixture.
"Do you think our losers will come, too?" Preena asked spitefully. She already knew her girls' answer, but she wanted to be affirmed in her opinion.
"Don't be silly!" Celeste and Hannah waved aside. "Never ever! They aren't even invited."
"Oh right, you're so right. What a pity ..." Preena's bright voice cut through the air like a saccharine sword. It sufficed, Eleanor let the girls go. In her ambition, she hadn't noticed that she had ended up in the entirely wrong part of the school. She was on the third floor and needed to go back to the first. Into the bargain, her watch told her that she was about to be late for the very first time in her life. Eleanor cussed and hastily made her way downstairs. She rushed down the stairs and didn't pay further attention to where her feet carried her. Thus she stumbled over them and - as if this hadn't been bad enough – bumped into someone. Before she could even pinpoint the pain, Eleanor struggled to her feet quickly, patted the dust off her clothes and turned towards her "victim". It was a boy, approximately her age, and – like her – a rat. He lay on his back, spread-eagled, the book that he had carried with him on his belly. He moaned quietly and rubbed his head.
"Dear me, I'm so sorry!" the rat girl sputtered. "I was lost in my thoughts and haven't realized that I have lessons on the first floor and I was in such a rush -"
"It's not as bad as all that," he cut in. Eleanor's vis-à-vis slowly straightened up, arose from the tiled floor, adjusted his jacket and said, "I hope you're OK." He felt his own forehead and then looked at her in worry. His dark eyes were bright and inquisitive, whereas his posture imparted a similar timidity to hers. He bent down to pick up his book and set about doing the same with Eleanor's scattered paper sheets.
"No, no!" she exclaimed and didn't mean her condition but the sheets. She knelt down and hurried to collect all the sheets before he had the chance to do so. Eleanor stashed them away into her writing pad and plugged it into her bag. Then she recognized the book that the boy held in his hand.
"You've got Physics, too?" she inquired.
"Eh ... yes, right." For a moment they both remained silent. Then it began to dawn on them that they were already late. They exchanged a shocked look and, without another word, ran to the wing of Natural Sciences together.
Eleanor knocked on the door diffidently and opened it. She felt herself blushing immediately as she entered the room.
"I have experienced a lot, but my two best students being late – that's a debut!" Mr. Kingsley, their Natural Sciences teacher, flashed the two an icy glance. Everybody had turned around in their seats and began snickering. Eleanor, the model student, was tardy – in company of a boy. This would set off a fuse in their heads! The two betook themselves to the last empty chairs in the backmost row and sat down. Mr. Kingsley wrote an entry into the class-register. Eleanor gulped. Her cheeks still pulsated.
"I'm sorry that I kept you," the boy apologized. He gave her an unhappy impression, but Eleanor waved aside.
"Don't worry. But say: how come I've never met you before? I mean-" She looked over to the front to see whether Mr. Kingsley was watching. Luckily, he was busy with writing assignments onto the blackboard. "I mean, we're in the same year, but we haven't had any courses together yet. Nor have I noticed you in the corridor."
"Well, I guess I'm as inconspicuous as you," he admitted and smiled warmly. Eleanor perfectly knew what he meant.
"May I ... eh ... ask your name?" he asked shyly and blushed.
"Of course. My name is Eleanor Johansson. And you are ...?"
He offered his hand to her. "I'm pleased to meet you, Eleanor. I'm Elmo, Elmo Sputterspark." Eleanor took his hand gratefully and shook it. She had the feeling that she had found someone like-minded at last.