Unlocked (29 page)

Just like his cousin Kate had said over pancakes that morning.

D
AN
H
ARRIS HAD BEEN OFF THE ROUGH SEAS OF THE
A
LASKAN
Peninsula for five hours. Long enough to get back to port, gather a suitcase full of clothes, and head to the airport. Holden needed him. That’s all Tracy had to say in her phone call yesterday,
and since they were headed into dock for supplies anyway, he informed his captain he needed a week and he booked a flight.

One of Holden’s friends had committed suicide over the weekend.

“I’m not sure how much he understands. Ella told me he was singing ‘Jesus Loves Me’ all day at school.” Tracy sounded weary and hopeful all at the same time. “And this morning—before he knew anything about the suicide, I caught him talking to little

Kate.”

“Talking?”

“Yes.” A ripple of forgotten laughter slipped into her voice. “He was talking, Dan. She was telling him about her SpongeBob lunch box, and Holden said, ‘I like SpongeBob. He’s always smiling.’”

“With actual words.”

“Yes. I know.” She laughed again, the unbridled girlish laughter of a mother no longer consumed with fear. “He’s changing, Dan. You have to see for yourself.”

Ella would bring Holden home that afternoon, so Tracy could pick Dan up at the airport. Between Kate’s arrival and the loss of a classmate, and the renewed friendship with Ella, Holden had a lot going on. As a father, Dan had missed much of Holden’s life. Most of the time he didn’t mind, because he didn’t think Holden noticed, and because his limitations only broke Dan’s heart.

A son who wouldn’t look at him? Who couldn’t talk or make eye contact or laugh with him? A son who was unreachable, untouchable, no matter what Dan tried, no matter how he begged God?

Better to stay at sea praying for the boy and making money, so that one day the therapy and treatments and training sessions might by some miracle pay off. But now… now maybe God was answering them, after all. And every hour at sea, every dollar hard
fought from the depths of the ocean, would all be worth it. If only Tracy was right. If they were really getting their Holden back.

Whatever changes were happening in their son, Dan could hardly wait to be home. In ten hours he would see for himself.

E
LLA MET WITH
P
RINCIPAL
R
ANDI
R
ICHARDS AFTER LUNCH ON
Tuesday and together they set up the memorial for Michael Schwartz. No one else had come forward and Ms. Richards said it was the first time anyone had suggested holding an all-school memorial for a victim of suicide.

“This is a nice thing you’re doing, Ella.” Ms. Richards seemed compassionate enough. “I think it’s time for a meeting like this.”

“It’s too late for Michael.” Ella was angry with herself, angry at her classmates and the administration. Michael had been bullied to death and they were all to blame. She set her jaw. “But we have to do this. To save the next Michael Schwartz.”

The memorial would take place in the gym Friday morning —first thing —and would be mandatory for all students. The choir and school band would perform, and Michael’s parents would be in attendance. One of the girls in the band would play a flute solo in honor of Michael, and Ms. Richards would say a few words. But the main message would come from Ella.

She had a lot to say.

Today, though, belonged to Holden.

Before he arrived at the drama classroom, she was setting up the stage, preparing for rehearsal, when Mr. Hawkins entered the room from his office. He looked different, less jaded somehow. “Ms. Reynolds?” He sat down at his desk and motioned to the chair across from him. “Do you have a minute?”

She hesitated, but only for a few seconds. “Sure.” She hadn’t talked to the drama teacher about Michael. On Monday everyone
was too much in shock to say much, and rehearsal had gone by in a blur. But today she had a feeling Mr. Hawkins was processing Michael’s loss. She took the chair and waited.

“I had Michael in class for two years.” Mr. Hawkins looked past Ella, to the open classroom door and the kids walking past in the hallway. “I feel … I feel there was more I could have done. More most of us could’ve done.”

“Yes, sir. I feel that too.” Ella’s throat tightened. Michael’s loss was so final. There was no way to go back and change a thing about how he’d been treated or how he felt about himself. It was the hardest part for all of them.

Mr. Hawkins breathed in deep through his nose and looked at Ella, renewed purpose in his expression. “I’ve thought about Holden. If you’ll help me, I’d like him to play the Prince. I think …” He paused, and his chin trembled a little. “I think it’s the right thing.”

Tears flooded Ella’s eyes and she wanted to jump up and hug the teacher. Instead she clasped her hands and nodded. “Yes … yes, I can help you.” She wiped at a couple of happy tears as they spilled onto her cheeks. “He can do this … I know he can.”

“Yes.” Mr. Hawkins cleared his throat. “If there was something we could’ve done for Michael …” His voice trailed off. He coughed, struggling for composure. “We’ll start today. We can … adjust the script so he can sing. Whatever works.” He nodded, his eyes damp. “We can take it slowly.”

“Thank you.” Ella dabbed her fingers beneath her eyes. She thought she probably understood the way Mr. Hawkins felt. Holden was still here, still alive and with them. They couldn’t do anything for Michael, but maybe they could make a difference for Holden. Before it was too late.

Mr. Hawkins slipped back into his office then, and a few minutes later Holden appeared at the classroom door. He hadn’t talked to her since last week. All day Monday he did nothing
but hum and quietly sing “Jesus Loves Me.” He might not have understood suicide, but he knew Michael was gone, and he knew the kids around him were sad. Ella could tell.

Lately she didn’t wait to start the music. Holden was best when the song was playing, so she started his favorite piece—the theme song. With the melodic instrumentals playing softly in the background, she called to him.

“Holden, can you come here for a minute?”

He looked up, straight at her. “Okay.”

Relief filled her heart. She was afraid if he understood about Michael, he would withdraw again. They might’ve lost the ground they’d gained. But he was talking again, which meant God was still working a miracle for Holden.
Please, God … Today’s a big day.
Ella breathed the prayer silently in her heart. She waited until Holden was on stage with her. “Mr. Hawkins says you can be the Prince in the play. That can be your part, okay?”

Holden twisted his hands together and rocked for a few seconds. Then he turned toward the music and his agitation eased. His eyes found hers again. “I am the Prince, Ella.”

“I know.” She stifled a giggle. “That’s what I told Mr. Hawkins.”

“Can I sing?”

“Yes, Holden.” The part didn’t call for a solo. In the script, the Prince simply said a few lines and then danced with Belle and the cast finished with a reprise of the theme song. “You can sing the whole song.”

“And we can dance?” A smile tugged at his lips and his beautiful eyes shone brighter than ever.

“Until the very end.”

“We used to dance, Ella. Me and you on a green field with the sun shining on our faces and laughter and ‘Jesus Loves Me.’ I remember that.”

Just when Ella allowed herself to believe she was having a normal moment with Holden, he would say something that
reminded her of the truth. There was nothing ordinary about him. Dancing on a green field? Did he really remember that or was the idea something from his imagination, a figment of the world he was emerging from? Either way, she wasn’t about to challenge the concept. “That’s nice. I’m glad you remember.”

She moved to mid-stage. “You know the end of the play?”

“Tale as old as time …” Holden sang his response.

“Okay, right.” Ella would have to pray constantly. Holden wanted the part. He believed he was the Prince. But making it work for an audience was going to take God’s help. She gathered her resolve. “So the Beast will be on stage with me, and it’ll seem like he’s dying. Then there will be fog and a curtain and the Beast will get up and leave. But no one in the audience will know. And you’ll come in and it will be a happy ending.” She wondered if she’d given him too much information at once.”

Holden sang a line from
Beauty and the Beast,
a line about finding friendship when it seemed least likely.

“Right.” Ella bit her lip. Holden’s voice made her weak at the knees, but it did nothing to convince her he understood the instructions. “Let’s run through it.” The music was still playing in the background as she pointed to the spot in front of her. “Be my prince, Holden. Okay?”

He nodded. “I’m your Prince, Ella.” He stood across from her and held out his hands.

Ella grinned. This was a victory, because Holden had to understand at least a little of what she’d said. Otherwise he wouldn’t have held out his hands. Tentatively, she took hold of his fingers and waited until the song was just about to start. Then she found her most professional stage voice. “It’s … it’s you! You’re alive!”

The script called for a kiss here, but Ella would never push for that. Holding hands was enough of a stretch for Holden. He
maintained eye contact with her and at the exact right moment he began to sing. “Tale as old as time … True as it can be.”

Ella listened, caught up in the song and the message. If Holden could pull this off, it wouldn’t be a traditional ending to the play. It would be better. She was wondering how to get him to start dancing with her, but as he reached the part about “ever a surprise,” he began dancing her in a sweeping circle, full and beautiful, as if he’d been dancing all his life. He kept to the beat and continued to sing even as he led her around the stage.

Somewhere near the end, Mr. Hawkins entered the room. He stayed back, but he watched and Ella was pretty sure he was fighting tears. When the song ended, Ella hit the Replay button, so that the music kept playing. Holden stopped, slightly breathless, and he looked at Mr. Hawkins. The first time Ella could remember him ever looking at the teacher. “I’m the Prince.”

“Yes, Holden.” Mr. Hawkins chuckled, and again he seemed to struggle with his emotions. “I believe you’ll be the best prince we’ve ever had.”

Holden nodded. “I will.” Then he stepped off the stage and took his seat at the back of the room.

They were running that scene today, so later when the class was in progress, Mr. Hawkins took the front of the room. “I’d like to announce a casting decision.” He waited until he had their attention.

Ella glanced at Holden. He was looking at his hands, rocking slightly in his back-row seat.
Please, God … let him understand what he has to do … Let this work for him.
Never before had their classmates seen what Holden was capable of. She was pretty sure none of them would understand what Mr. Hawkins was about to say. “In light of my recent discussions with Ella Reynolds, I’ve decided that the role of the Prince will go to Holden Harris.”

The class sat quietly, probably too stunned to move or speak. But from the back of the room, Holden began to clap. First softly,
and then with more vigor. He finally stood, looking from Mr. Hawkins to Ella and clapping with great enthusiasm. Ella wanted to rush to his side and protect him from the sneers and mean comments that were bound to come. But before she could move, three girls in the second row began clapping, too, and at the same time a guy in the first row and a couple kids in the third row started to clap. In seconds, the whole room had erupted into raucous applause.

Mr. Hawkins seemed to catch what was happening about the same time as Ella. Holden wasn’t clapping for himself. He and every other student in the room were clapping because Mr. Hawkins had done the right thing by giving a kid like Holden a part in the play.

So many wondrous moments had already happened this day, Ella was only a little surprised when they ran the scene and right on cue Holden came up onto stage and played his part —same as he’d played it before when the room was empty. As long as she lived, Ella would remember the astonished looks on the faces of her peers. Because she already knew what Holden Harris had inside him. But for them, this was their first time to see it. The truth was Holden wasn’t a beast after all. No matter how strange or awkward or different he seemed.

He was a prince.

E
LLA HAD NEVER TAKEN
H
OLDEN HOME FROM SCHOOL BEFORE.
She’d stopped by his house and visited with him and his mother. But today his mom and his cousin Kate were at the airport picking up Holden’s dad. Holden’s mother had explained about his routine.

“Snack is first—it’s in the fridge, all ready for him. Then the movie.” She explained that Holden would know the timing of each step, and that he’d get worked up if the schedule was changed in any way. “The movie is in the player—it’s the same
one he watches every day. The same one he’s watched for the last decade.”

Being a part of Holden’s routine was something Ella had looked forward to all afternoon. Already this had been a day full of milestones—moments she couldn’t wait to share with his parents. She found Holden’s snack in the refrigerator, just like his mom had promised, and she sat next to him while he lined up his raisins and ate them one at a time.

“You’re going to make a very good prince.” She folded her arms, watching him.

He didn’t look up right away.

“The whole class was proud of you.”

He sang another line, this one maybe most poignant of all, the part of the song that explained how it was possible to change, possible that first impressions could be wrong.

Ella studied him, amazed. This wasn’t some random part of the song, the way it might seem to someone who didn’t know Holden. He was telling her something deeper than his love for music, his love for the play they were performing. The idea of Holden Harris having so much inside him was probably bittersweet and strange to their classmates. But the truth was, people could miss the beauty inside someone. The way they had missed it with Holden.