Unlocked (17 page)

“He hasn’t hit like that for a long time.”

“Yes … well, anyway, when your family came home from Florida a month later, neither of us made contact. Weeks became months … months became years.” She paused for a long time. “Five Christmases later, I took my high school yearbook outside on the back porch on Christmas Eve and cried for an hour.”

Ella wasn’t sure what to say. She wanted to ask the woman why she never made the first call if the loss hurt so badly, or how come the guys didn’t make contact if their wives weren’t speaking. But she didn’t want to seem rude or too forward. She was surprised Holden’s mother had opened up this much.

“I always hoped …” She blinked back tears, her eyes lost in what seemed like long-ago memories. “No one ever took her place.”

“But she wasn’t sympathetic… about Holden.” That part Ella could talk about.

“Some people are put off by autism …” She brushed her fingers beneath her eyes and looked at Holden. He still held onto his cards, but he was staring out the window now. Mrs. Harris sighed. “Autism is … Well, it’s complicated.”

Complicated?
Holden’s mother didn’t have to be so kind. The real reason was ugly and hard to say out loud. Especially in front of Holden. Yes, Mrs. Harris could’ve placed the first phone call after so much time slipped away. But Ella’s mom was the one put off by a child with autism. She could’ve been sympathetic
or helpful or at least a listening ear for what Holden’s mother must’ve been going through. But instead she’d run the other direction.

And how sad was that? Ella felt tears in her own eyes. She looked at the photographs again. “I don’t really know my mother. She never told me about you. About your friendship.”

The truth clearly hurt. Mrs. Harris struggled with her next words. “I guess some things are too sad to talk about.” Her words seemed as much for herself as for Ella. This detail—her mom never mentioning this special friendship—created still more pain. It had to. Holden’s mother took a deep breath and forced a bigger smile than before. “I’ll say this. Your mother and I had a lot of fun.” She nodded, as if she were assuring herself. “She could always make me laugh. We hung out every day. We fell in love around the same time and married our husbands the same year. Hers was a spring wedding, mine was summer.”

Ella listened, amazed. She was learning more about her mother from a woman she’d just met, here in an empty classroom, than she’d ever learned before. She could’ve sat here all night if it meant hearing more details like this.

“A few years later … we had our babies —just three months apart.”

“Who’s older?”

“He is.” Mrs. Harris smiled sweetly at Holden. “Right,

Holden?”

His eyes didn’t focus on either of them, but he had a hopeful look. The one where all the world was ever right and good. At least that’s how his expression seemed. Ella looked at the clock on the wall. “Mrs. Harris… I need to go.” She had to pick up her mother’s cleaning before four o’clock. It was on the list of ‘this-is-the-least-you-can-do-for-me’ jobs her mother asked her to do once in a while. “I want to hear more sometime, if that’s okay?”

“Definitely.” Again the woman’s expression was sweet. “You’ll have to come over. I have a home movie of the two of you.”

Ella’s heart warmed. “I’d like that. Thank you.” She stood, and Holden’s mother did the same thing. “I have a question.”

“Anything.” Mrs. Harris went to Holden and put her hand gently against his back. Her touch must have acted like some kind of signal because Holden put his flash cards away and stood. He swayed a little, but he didn’t flap or look agitated.

“Can Holden be in the school play?” She’d been tossing the idea around since the first time she saw him stop at the classroom door. “I mean, if I can get him in?”

A nervous look tightened the woman’s face a little. She cast a brief look at Holden. “He would love it, I really believe he would.” Cold reality dimmed her enthusiasm. “But I’m afraid… It’s a stretch for Holden to be an audience member.” She didn’t want to hurt Holden’s feelings. That much was obvious. “You know what I mean?”

Ella had to agree, but she wasn’t willing to give up. “Maybe if he’s enrolled in the class, at least then if he wants to he can have a part. In the ensemble.”

Holden’s mother patted Ella shoulder. She looked like she might tell Ella she was wasting her time, but then she lowered her voice to a whisper. “Even if God gave us a miracle and Holden could stand on a stage without acting out, we couldn’t afford the fees.” She hugged Ella and placed her hand along Ella’s face. “But thanks for caring about him.” She smiled, searching Ella’s face. “You’re such a nice girl, Ella. You turned out exactly the way I knew you would.”

Holden was waiting patiently, but he was turning in tight circles and his hands were folded near his chin again.

“Here,” Mrs. Harris dug through her purse and pulled out a pen and a notepad. She jotted something down. “This is our
phone number. I meant what I said about stopping by. Call anytime.” She led Holden toward the door. “Do me a favor, Ella?”

The moment was ending too soon. She still wanted to talk to Holden and show him the scrapbook. But they were out of time. “Anything.”

“Tell your mother … I said hi.”

“I will.” Ella gave her a final smile. Then she gathered her things and headed out the other door, the one closer to the senior parking lot. On the way out, she nearly ran into Michael Schwartz. “Oh … sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He stepped to the side and hesitated. He was carrying a music case—probably for his flute. The one the football players had made fun of that day in the hall. His shy eyes connected with hers. “What you’re doing for Holden… that’s really cool.”

Ella was touched. Was it getting around school that Holden was hanging out in the theater room? “How did you know?”

“I keep an eye on him.” A crooked grin tugged at his lips. “Those jerks would kill him otherwise. That’s what they want. A school where no one’s different or quiet, you know? Everyone has to be just like them.”

Regret splashed like ice water against her face. Michael was one of the few kids at Fulton who stuck up for Holden Harris. But who stuck up for Michael? She pictured him cornered by Jake and his buddy and she could hear their voices again.
“You play the flute … most gay kids do … freak … this is our hallway … “
How could she ever have fallen for a guy like Jake?

“You play the flute, right?” She had never asked before, never allowed herself to be interested in a guy like Michael who was so different from her crowd.

“Yeah.” He lifted his case a little. “I’m in orchestra. We’re working on the spring production.”

“Right. I thought so.” That meant Michael would be part of
rehearsals in the weeks leading up to the April performance. “I’m in the play.”

“Yeah.” A quiet laugh came from him. “You’re Belle. Everyone knows that.”

This was the most she’d talked to Michael Schwartz in the three years they’d shared at Fulton. He was a year younger, but she’d seen him around a lot —in the halls or at lunch. In a number of her classes. But she’d never talked to him like this until today. In some ways, her handicap was worse than Holden’s. What excuse did she have for not talking? For picking and choosing whom to speak with?

Ella hid her frustration with herself. “That’ll be fun. Rehearsing together next semester.” She wanted to find out more about Michael, where he went after school and who his friends were.

“Sure.” He looked away and then back at her, like he was ready to move on. “I guess.”

Ella’s heart sank. Michael didn’t believe her, not after three years of her pretending he didn’t exist. She wanted to ask him to stay for a few minutes, but, then, she couldn’t make up for the past all at once. She’d lived in the confines of her own shallow, mean-spirited crowd, unwilling to connect with kids outside her group.

But never again.

She stared at the ground for a moment, searching for the words. “Hey…”…” She held tight to the straps of her backpack, shame reducing her voice to half what it had been. “I’m sorry about the other day. The way Jake and those guys treated you.” She gave him an apologetic look. “They really are jerks.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, but his smile faded. “It’s okay. Guys like that always get what they want.” He started walking, his fingers gripped tightly around the handle of his flute case. “See you, Ella.”

She watched him go, not moving. “See ya, Michael.” It was
the first time either of them had acknowledged that they knew each other’s names.

Ella started slowly toward her car, the sun on her shoulders. Michael was right. Guys like Jake always got what they wanted. They were practically heroes because they could throw a ball or catch a touchdown pass.

But maybe this was the year Holden and Michael would finally have their turn. Michael could play the flute for the orchestra and maybe Holden would be in the play somehow and all the school would come to watch. LaShante would help her get everyone excited about it. That was possible, right?

Ella smiled at the picture in her mind. As she reached her car, she was consumed by a single thought: Mrs. Harris was praying for a miracle. So maybe miracles really did happen, and maybe they happened when people prayed. People like Mrs. Harris. If that was true, then a miracle might be in the works. For Mrs. Harris and Ella’s mother and Holden. Even for Michael.

For all of them.

She thought about what Holden’s mother said. Even if he could control himself enough to stand silently in the back row of an ensemble, there was no money to pay for theater fees. But there could be no miracle if Holden wasn’t at least given a chance. This year the cost was nearly two hundred dollars—a hurdle Ella had never thought about. As she walked to her car she knew what she was going to do after she picked up her mother’s laundry.

She was going to figure out a way to get Holden’s drama fee.

H
OLDEN PRACTICALLY DANCED HIS WAY TO HIS MOTHER’S CAR.
It was like that after dancing with Ella, the way he’d danced with her in the classroom a few minutes ago. Round and round they danced, and they laughed and the beautiful song kept playing. His favorite song called “Maybe Ella and I Will Have a Second Chance to Be Friends.”

Across the campus everyone who walked by was happy and kind and Holden smiled at them, but he also prayed for them. Every single one. Because some of the kids were kind on the inside but their outsides were all trapped up. Kids like the football players and some of the girls who laughed a lot. So Holden prayed the kindness inside them would come all the way to the outside where people could see it and feel it. More kindness would be good for everyone at Fulton High.

Isn’t this the greatest day ever, Mom?
He smiled at her as they reached the car.
What a nice talk with Ella.

“Get in the car, Holden.” His mom opened his door. “Don’t forget your seatbelt.”

I won’t, because seatbelts make us safer.
He heard the music swell, heard the strings kick in. When his mom climbed into the car he grinned again.
I’m glad you were there with me and Ella. I think all of us should be friends again—not just me and her.

“Ella says you looked at her today.” His mom kept her eyes straight ahead because she was driving them home.

Of course I looked at her.
Holden felt better than he could remember feeling.
I told you, I can see Ella. And she can see me.
We could always see each other. Through our eyes and into our hearts.

His mom was saying something, but Holden couldn’t hear her as well because of the music. Pretty, soothing music without a single drumbeat. Holden took a deep breath and rested his head against the back of the seat. This was the best day in his whole grown-up life. Because Ella remembered him, and because Ella and his mom found each other again too.

His favorite part was when Ella took out the photo album. “I brought this to show you, Holden,” she told him.

That’s very nice of you, Ella.
He saw the pictures in the book and he felt like singing.
I remember those pictures,
he told her.
Those were great times back then. Especially blowing bubbles.

“We had fun, didn’t we?” Ella looked happy, like she enjoyed remembering.

Yes, we sure did. We would play all day and laugh and sing. Right, Mom?

“All the time.” His mother smiled. She was always smiling. “I remember that day.”

Holden remembered too.
Ella, you were so funny that bubble day. You wanted to blow a bubble that would reach all the way to heaven, and you told me to blow one that big too. So we both kept trying and trying, and finally your eyes got really happy and you told me, “There! I think Jesus could see that one!” And so we leaned back on our hands and the grass was soft around our fingers and we watched the bubbles go up to Jesus in a long line. One bubble, then two, then three, then four … Remember that?

“Yes … of course I remember.” Ella said a lot more stories from when they were little, but she said them with her eyes. Her words were quiet because the music was louder. Pretty wind sounds and keys and flutes filling the classroom, filling Holden’s heart and soul, and it was his favorite song. The flute was nice because it was Michael’s kind of music. Michael played the flute.

I love this song,
Holden told Ella and his mother. And they smiled because one thing was sure. His mom and Ella heard the music.

His heart was so full and so happy, that on the drive home Holden couldn’t go another minute without praying.
Dear Jesus, thank You for this special day, and for that great time with Ella and my mom. I can see it all spread out like a painting, dear God. Me and Ella and Michael in the spring play. And my mom and Ella’s mom will be friends again and everyone will love everyone and no one will ever be mean, because the kindness will be unlocked all throughout Fulton High. That will be a special time, Lord. And I know it will happen because look how wonderful today was, and that was from You. All good things are from You. Be with Ella and talk to her. Sometimes I think she needs to hear Your voice. Thanks, Jesus. I know You love me. Your friend, Holden.