Unlocked (11 page)

“Monday.” The teacher smiled. “I know Holden loves music. We’ve always known that. But this is the first time he’s been so proactive about it, wanting to be in the drama classroom. At the very least, he’ll enjoy sitting at the back of the drama room more than tossing a Nerf ball.”

“Yes.” She sat a little straighter. “At the very least.” No matter how small this step for Holden, it was something—a step in the right direction.

“That’s all, Mrs. Harris.” The teacher stood and shook her hand. She grabbed a second folder from an adjacent desk. “I made copies of everything in his file, for your records.”

“Thank you.” Tracy looked into the woman’s eyes. “We … we needed this.” She went to Holden. “Time to go, honey. I’ve got your snack ready at home.”

Holden took his PECS cards from his backpack and looked intently through them. Finally he pulled out a worn card, and this time she didn’t reach for it. The card held an illustration of small, irregularly shaped black dots, and the word beneath that read “Raisins.”

“You want raisins for a snack.” Tracy grinned as Holden stood and followed her. “We’ll have raisins.”

They were halfway to the car when in the distance Holden seemed to spot the football field. He stopped for a few seconds, then he folded his hands tightly together, brought them to his chin, and flapped his arms. The familiar behavior lasted only a few minutes, but clearly Holden was agitated. After reading the report, Tracy understood why.

“Come on, Holden. It’s okay. We’re almost to the car. Kate will be home soon.” She touched his arm, but he jerked away. The rest of the walk to the car, he sorted through his PECS cards. When they reached the car he showed her the card he’d been apparently looking for. It showed a TV screen and the word “Movie.” Again he didn’t make eye contact.

“Yes, Holden, we’ll watch the movie. Of course.” Tracy moved her head slightly, trying to find that sweet spot where their eyes might connect. But it didn’t happen. They climbed in the car and Holden was quiet, watching out the window for the ride home.

They met up with Kate and the three of them headed inside the apartment. Tracy and Kate made the snack—and Tracy was careful to add extra raisins. Holden brought his cards to the table, but he kept his focus on the food. Intent on the process of eating. Kate chattered, all cheery and sunshine, and between bites Holden lined up his raisins around the outside of the plate and Tracy wondered if there was maybe a connection. Whatever Holden was feeling, whatever he was going through, maybe the orderliness of turning circles or lining up his raisins helped him deal with it.

There was a connection somewhere, Tracy had to believe that. A reason for everything Holden did, every quirky repetitive behavior, every silent hour. Now, like every day since Holden’s diagnosis, it was a matter of finding the connection.

As Holden finished his snack, he seemed more anxious than usual, his mannerisms jerky and unsettled. Still, he took his seat on the floor and Kate took the spot beside him. It was like she had an innate understanding that something wasn’t right with Holden, that he needed her companionship while he watched the movie. For whatever reason, she hadn’t grown bored with the routine. Tracy was grateful. Kate was helping… even if Holden was agitated, he was aware of her presence. Lately she had even caught him looking briefly at Kate before and after the movie.

Tracy let the loop at the beginning of the DVD play through, let the song play out.
Never be the same without your love … live alone … Try so hard to rise above.
Then, like every day for as far back as she could remember, she hit the Play button and the movie began.

But today Tracy didn’t want a reminder of the wonderful, communicative little boy Holden had been. The kitchen needed to be cleaned, and the laundry had to be sorted. Kate was little, but an extra child in the house had added housework and Tracy was glad for the diversion. She was on her way to Holden’s room when she saw something that made her stop cold.

Holden wasn’t sitting cross-legged the way he had a thousand times before today. He and Kate were on their feet, turning in circles.

The sick feeling hit like a freezing winter wind and took her breath.
No, Holden … don’t go that way. You’re letting it take you farther from me.
She wanted to go to him and hold his shoulders, look him in the eyes if that were possible, and beg him to stay here with her.

She had taken two steps toward him when she caught the
image on the TV screen and again she stopped, stunned too shocked to move. The scene was one where Holden and Ella were singing “Jesus Loves Me.” But that wasn’t all they were doing. They were also dancing.

“Holden …” She whispered. She no longer wanted to interrupt him.

Kate turned circles around him, her arms raised. “We’re dancing, Holden!” She giggled and skipped a few steps. “I love dancing!”

Holden didn’t respond, but his circles grew bigger and then smaller again. And something else was different for Holden: his eyes were closed.

Tracy looked from the dancing three-year-olds on the screen to her son and Kate and back again, and suddenly she was absolutely sure about what was happening here. What had happened the other day in gym class. So sure she wanted to call Mrs. Bristowe and ask her to come right over. The sick feeling left her, and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Holden was doing something that had once given him great delight, something that had connected him to a friend and made him laugh with delight. He wasn’t turning circles because he was regressing. In fact, this might even explain the way he’d turned circles when he was five and six. He wasn’t being defiant or difficult or agitated or over stimulated. He was turning circles for one very simple, very beautiful reason. Somewhere in the private world where he lived, Holden was doing something he loved to do.

He was dancing with Ella.

E
NGLISH CLASS WAS OVER, AND
E
LLA WAS ONE OF THE LAST KIDS
to leave the room. As she walked out she spotted Jake and Sam, but before she reached them she saw something she could hardly believe. The guys had another kid cornered. After the incident with Holden, Ella had talked for an hour that night with Jake. “It wasn’t funny,” she told him.

“I’m sorry.” He touched her hair, his eyes kind and genuine again. “We didn’t mean anything by it.”

Ella wanted to believe him, but this time their victim was Michael Schwartz, a quiet, artsy kid who had been in a number of classes with Ella over the years. He played in the school orchestra and would probably be one of the lead flutists in the school’s
Beauty and the Beast
musical. Once last year they were in the same small group in their social studies class. They had to talk about their families. She still remembered that she and Michael both seemed equally hesitant to talk about what went on at home.

“My parents are getting a divorce.” Michael was quiet, not as confident as lots of kids. “I don’t really talk about it.”

And now here was her boyfriend —the guy who seemed so great over the summer—picking on the kid. Ella watched the way she had when the guys cornered Holden. Because she couldn’t actually believe they were doing this, and she wanted to be sure it wasn’t a two-way thing. Maybe Michael had picked a fight with them first.

“Hey, flower boy.” Jake flicked the spot on Michael’s backpack
where the design included a few flowers. “What kind of wimp walks around with flowers on his backpack?”

Anger came over Ella in a flash. Whatever was happening here, Michael wasn’t a part of it. Clearly the kid wanted to move along, but there was literally no way past Jake and Sam without a physical confrontation. She wanted to run up and push the guys away, but how would that look? Michael might come across as more of a victim, which could make things worse for him. Instead she seethed from her place near the classroom door.

Sam was taking a turn with him. “So what is it, fruitcake, you have something against football players?” It was Friday —game day—and he and Jake wore their uniforms. “We too manly for you, flute player?” He laughed hard. “I heard only gay guys play the flute.” Sam pranced around, pretending to play an invisible flute.

Ella silently seethed. She was finished with Jake. She didn’t want any part of a guy who treated other kids like this. She took a few steps toward him and Sam, but she stopped herself. Michael wasn’t in danger, and again she’d only make him look weak if she tried to rescue him.

“I’m not gay.” Michael peered up at Sam through his long black hair. “Get out of my face.”

“Really?” Jake shoved the kid. “You’re talking back to my boy Sam?”

Ella couldn’t stand there another minute. She stormed toward the guys, intent on pushing Jake out of the way. At the same time, three other football players walked up, and Ella stopped herself once more. Jake’s teammates seemed to understand pretty quickly what was happening, and one of them gave Jake a lighthearted shove.

“Leave the kid alone.” The guy’s name was Brian Brickell. He had also been in a number of Ella’s classes over the years. “Come on J-Bird, pick on someone your own size.”

At first Jake looked like he might blow up at his teammate. But then he slapped Sam on the back and sneered at Michael. “Stay out of my way.”

Michael said nothing. He took the opportunity to escape and did so without looking over his shoulder. As he left, Sam yelled at him. “Yeah, that’s right. Don’t look back, queer boy. This is our hallway. No flute players got it?”

Ella watched Jake go, and she felt horrified. She wanted to tell him off right here in front of his friends, but she was too sick to her stomach to speak or move. She would break up with him later. They were finished.

She looked the opposite direction at Michael Schwartz, hurrying out of the building. For an instant, she thought about running after him and telling him she was sorry about how Jake acted. Sorry because she should’ve stepped in. But Jake would see her, and that would get awkward.

Instead, she turned a different direction and headed out a side door. What was wrong with the kids at Fulton High? The school needed more guys like Brian Brickell, a reminder that not all football players were like Jake and Sam.

E
LLA DIDN’T SEE
J
AKE UNTIL TWO HOURS LATER BETWEEN
classes. He walked up to her, hurt plastered across his face. “You didn’t say hi after English.”

She stopped and searched his eyes. “We need to talk.”

He chuckled, doing his best to charm her. “About what?”

“Us.” She didn’t smile. “I saw the whole Michael Schwartz thing.”

Jake knit his brow together, his laughter a little more nervous than before. “Who?”

“The flute player.” She put her hand on her hip. “Don’t act innocent, Jake. I watched the whole thing.”

“That?” His smile was still in place, but his confidence was fading. “I told you, baby … me and the guys do that.” His laugh was more nervous than before. “We joke around with kids. It’s no big deal.”

She stared at him. “It is to me.” A glance at her phone told her she needed to get to class. “We need to talk.”

“Fine.” Jake held up his hands in mock surrender. “We’ll talk.” He shrugged and started in the opposite direction. “Whatever, Ella …”

“Yeah,” she called back in his direction. “Whatever.”

She hurried up the stairs and didn’t give him another look. When lunchtime came she avoided the outdoor area, and went instead to the wing where the special-needs kids had their cafeteria. Holden had been given permission to sit in on their rehearsals for
Beauty and the Beast
starting Monday. Ella wondered if he understood that he’d gotten his way.

As she wandered the special-education wing, she tried to imagine what he usually did during lunch. She thought he probably wasn’t in trig anymore, because she hadn’t seen him in the hallway lately. If he’d dropped the class, he would have no reason to walk through the lunch area or the math building, the way he’d done the first week.

Ella reached the area’s smaller cafeteria and stepped inside just long enough to find Holden. He was sitting by himself, looking through his stack of flash cards. Ella wanted to talk to him, but she didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to connect with him. She went to the library instead. She’d rather study history than hang out with Jake and the rest of the kids in her crowd.

The thing was, Holden intrigued her. When he looked at her, it was like she got a glimpse of his heart. And what she saw told her that Holden was kind and good and real, like maybe he had the biggest heart of any kid on campus. She wanted to get to know him, the real him.

She thought about Holden through the afternoon and after Fulton notched another victory —this time over Duluth. After the game LaShante suggested everyone come to Ella’s house, the way they often did since the group started high school. The Reynolds’ basement contained a huge rec room with a pool table, comfy couches, and an enormous flat-screen TV. The perfect hang-out spot. Plus, her mom made sure everyone had lots to eat, so it was always a safer choice than hanging out in the parking lot of Stone Mountain. Usually Ella loved when people came over.

But as the party got going, Ella was sorry she’d said yes. More people came than she’d expected, and three of her friends were mad at each other because one of them had told the other something about that one’s boyfriend. Or the other way around. The usual Friday-night drama, but it bugged Ella more this time. She wondered what kids like Holden or Michael Schwartz were doing tonight.

She ran upstairs to refill the chip bowl, and she expected to find Jake and his buddies in the kitchen with her mom. Jake was always talking to her mom. But Jake was missing, so she walked out back and sure enough, there he was—leaning against the balcony overlooking their manicured backyard.

Ella stepped outside. “Jake?” She took a few steps closer. This was as good a time as any to break things off with him. “What are you doing?”

“Thinking.” He turned and faced her, leaning against the railing. “I’m sorry, Ella. You’re right.” He paused, regret written into his expression. “I’ve been a jerk lately.” He held out his hand toward her.