Unlocked : a Love Story Part 14

Pastor Jeff prayed, and Holden once more started moving his elbows and in a single instant -like a light bulb turning on -Ella understood. Holden was praying! When he brought his hands together near his chin and moved his arms, he was talking to G.o.d! Which meant ... which meant Holden talked to G.o.d all the time, for all sorts of reasons. The understanding filled her heart. She could hardly wait to talk to Holden's mother. She pictured all the times she'd seen Holden do this same motion. If she was right, Holden prayed when kids were mean, and he prayed when his friends walked off the bus. Of course he prayed. The special-needs kids needed all the prayer they could get, right?

Tears filled her eyes at the kindness of the friend beside her. Ella had been surrounded by people who called themselves friends all her life. But never had any of them been as genuine as Holden. She thought of another time when he prayed. When their drama cla.s.s sang about killing the Beast. Every time they sang that song Holden folded his hands and flapped his elbows. Maybe he was worried about the villagers. She thought about that for a few seconds and realized that couldn't be it. The villagers were on the attack in that song.

So maybe he was worried about the Beast. The misunderstood creature whose outward appearance gave no indication of the kind-hearted being inside. The possibility moved her even more, Holden's compa.s.sion and inner understanding washing over her.

When the service ended, after they'd talked to a few people and when Ella and Holden and his mother were back outside near the cars, Ella's heart was still warm with the realization about Holden praying.

"Thanks for inviting me." Ella hugged Holden's mom, and the feeling went all the way through her. It was hard to believe Mrs. Harris and her mother ever could've been best friends. They were so different. Ella smiled. "I want to know more about following Jesus. Maybe you could help me."

"I'd love that." Holden's mom looked happy. Like her eyes were windows to her soul.

Holden looked at the ground and nodded. "Jesus loves me, this I know ..."

"He's singing ..." His mother's eyes glistened, her words a shocked whisper. "I can't believe he's singing." She looked at Ella. "That was your song, the one the two of you sang most often."

She wished the tune sounded familiar, but it didn't. "He hasn't sung it to me before."

"Maybe because you're here." Mrs. Harris grinned.

Ella wasn't sure if she should talk about the prayer thing in front of Holden, but then she didn't think he would mind. He might even appreciate that finally he was being understood. "I think I figured something out." She looped her purse up onto her shoulder. The air was cool, but the sweet Georgia sky was wide and clear the way it often was in mid-November. "About Holden?"

"Yes." She moved her elbows a few times. "You know when he does that, when he has his hands up by his chin and he moves his arms?"

"It's a sign of over-stimulation. Like the push-ups." Mrs. Harris knit her brow. "I've never really figured out a pattern. To be honest he does it more at school than at home."

"Exactly." Ella smiled at Holden, and then back to his mother. "When he does that, I think he's praying. I could tell when I was sitting by him."

"I've thought about that, but ... well ..." Her joy cooled some. "The kids at school ... they make fun of him." A shadow fell over her eyes. "His actions seem more of a self-defense."

Ella looked from Holden to his mother. "Maybe it's both."

"... for the Bible tells me so." Holden's song was quiet and hurried. He stared at the pavement.

"Both?" Sorrow and confusion blurred together in Mrs. Harris' expression. "I'm not sure I understand."

"Maybe he prays for them ... and also in self-defense." The more Ella considered the possibility, the more real it became. "It makes sense, right? Holden praying when he feels anxious or nervous."

His mom let that sink in for a long moment. She moved closer to Holden. "Is that what you do, Holden? Do you pray for people? Do you pray for your cla.s.smates?"

Holden stopped singing. He moved in quick, jerky steps to his mother's car, opened the pa.s.senger door, and removed his deck of PECS cards. He sorted through them and finally pulled one from the deck and flashed it in their direction. The picture was of a clock, and beneath it were the words "Every Hour."

Every hour! Ella put her hand to her mouth, but not before a quiet cry escaped her. She and Holden's mother exchanged a look, and Ella wasn't sure if the woman was going to break down crying or laugh out loud. This was the behavior Holden most often demonstrated, and now they understood why. Ella put her hand to her mouth, but not before a quiet cry escaped her. She and Holden's mother exchanged a look, and Ella wasn't sure if the woman was going to break down crying or laugh out loud. This was the behavior Holden most often demonstrated, and now they understood why.

Holden didn't walk around acting like a crazy person without reason. He was praying. Today he had prayed for the little boy whose precious demonstration in church told them that the price for salvation was paid in full. Holden couldn't talk, and he could barely make eye contact. But he could do this one thing for the people in trouble around him. The exact thing Ella had only just started doing. He could pray. For the bullying jocks and his handicapped friends, and the worn-out teachers.

And yes, even for the Beast.

Twenty-Two.

FOR THE NEXT TWO WEEKS E ELLA WAS DRAWN TO H HOLDEN, desperate to know his thoughts and hopes and dreams. Because after understanding about Holden's constant prayers, Ella was sure they'd only begun to understand the beautiful soul locked inside Holden Harris. desperate to know his thoughts and hopes and dreams. Because after understanding about Holden's constant prayers, Ella was sure they'd only begun to understand the beautiful soul locked inside Holden Harris.

One afternoon before the other kids arrived at the theater room, Holden found her alone on the stage running lines. Mr. Hawkins was in his office, and cla.s.s didn't officially begin for ten minutes. Holden must've finished his previous cla.s.s early, because he and a teacher's aide showed up in the doorway.

"He's early." The woman looked anxious to be on her way. "I'll stay if you need me to."

Ella studied Holden, the way he directed his eyes everywhere but at the teacher's aide or at her. She smiled at the woman. "You can go." She held her spot on the stage. "I'm his friend. I'll keep an eye on him."

As soon as the word friend friend crossed Ella's lips, Holden's agitation eased. He looked at her, straight at her, and he nodded. The moment didn't last. Holden looked away and then shuffled to his seat near the back of the room. Same seat, same exact spot for his backpack. But he did something different today. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees, his attention on the stage. Not her, but the stage. crossed Ella's lips, Holden's agitation eased. He looked at her, straight at her, and he nodded. The moment didn't last. Holden looked away and then shuffled to his seat near the back of the room. Same seat, same exact spot for his backpack. But he did something different today. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees, his attention on the stage. Not her, but the stage.

He wants to perform, Ella told herself. She walked a few steps to the boom box set up on a nearby stool and hit the Play b.u.t.ton. Music filled the room and Holden sat up straighter, his chest full, face peaceful. As if he were getting his first fresh air all day. Ella told herself. She walked a few steps to the boom box set up on a nearby stool and hit the Play b.u.t.ton. Music filled the room and Holden sat up straighter, his chest full, face peaceful. As if he were getting his first fresh air all day.

Ella found her place on stage and began on cue. The song was one Belle sang after being locked in the castle by the Beast, a song about trying to find home inside her heart.

Holden stood up slowly and looked at her, straight at her.

Ella continued singing. She turned her song, her performance, entirely toward him.

They were still alone, the other kids still minutes from joining them. As the song began to build Holden walked slowly to the front of the room and climbed easily up onto the stage beside her. She was too stunned to do anything but keep singing, keep playing the role of Belle.

But now Holden was quietly singing along, and as the song reached the end, Ella somehow forgot the words, too caught up in watching the miracle play out before her. Holden wasn't only singing, he was singing in perfect pitch, his voice rich and melodic and ... well, breathtaking. And finally the room filled with the sound and Ella could do nothing but watch in wondrous awe. Holden's performance was worthy of any audience, and Ella felt weak at the knees as she took it in.

Especially the song's last few lines. "Build higher walls around me ..." Holden's blue eyes pierced her heart, her soul. He kept singing, every word and note perfect. "My heart's far, far away ... home and free."

Ella wanted the song to keep playing, but after a few bars, the music faded. Without breaking eye contact with Holden, Ella hit the Off b.u.t.ton and stared at him. "Holden ... that was beautiful."

His performance was so real, so convincing, that Ella expected him to answer her like any other kid, like maybe suddenly and completely he was back to normal. But as soon as the music stopped, Holden stiffened and began wringing his hands. He looked down, rocking slightly, his eyes glued to the repet.i.tive motions of his fingers.

"Holden?"

He put both hands over his ears and jumped awkwardly off the stage. Before he reached his seat at the back of the room, he dropped to the floor and peeled off a couple dozen push-ups. Then he sat down, opened his backpack, and frantically grabbed for his flash cards.

"Holden ..." Mr. Hawkins slipped into the room. His face was ashen, his eyes wide. "That was amazing."

"You heard him ... I'm glad." Ella was still standing on the stage, still too amazed by what she'd witnessed to move or speak or do anything but stare in wonder at Holden. She turned to her teacher. "He was standing up here performing." She smiled even as tears filled her eyes. "I couldn't believe it."

If Mr. Hawkins hadn't heard Holden's song, Ella was sure he wouldn't have believed her. She looked at Holden again. He was staring straight down at the flash cards, silently rocking, utterly oblivious to the students starting to file into the room.

"Maybe he'll do it again." Mr. Hawkins' face was curious, as if he had to see for himself. He walked slowly toward the back of the room.

"Mr. Hawkins." Ella hopped down off the stage and followed him. "Be careful," she whispered so only her teacher could hear her. "He might not want to do it again."

The other kids didn't notice the drama playing out with Ella and Mr. Hawkins and Holden. Their voices provided a cushion of sound, so Holden wouldn't be put on the spot, whatever Mr. Hawkins was going to say. The teacher reached Holden and stopped a few feet away. "Holden ... can you hear me?"

Holden didn't look up. He kept rocking, sifting the flash cards a little faster than before.

"You have a very nice voice, Holden." Ella stepped up and put her hand on her friend's shoulder. But the touch made him recoil and again he put his hands to his ears. Ella withdrew her hand, but his reaction hurt. What was that on the stage? Hadn't they shared something special? A moment from the past, maybe? She crossed her arms tight in front of her. "Never mind." She motioned to Mr. Hawkins. "If he wants to perform, he'll let us know."

Holden lowered his hands, sifted furiously through his cards, and pulled one from the deck. He handed it to Ella-a sign that he trusted her. Ella took the card, and when she looked at it she felt fresh tears sting at the corners of her eyes. The card showed a remorseful stick figure and it read simply "I'm sorry."

Ella showed Mr. Hawkins, and the teacher nodded, a sad, defeated sort of a nod. Then he cleared his voice. "Okay, cla.s.s." He strode to the front of the room, taking control of the students. "Get out your scripts."

Ella hesitated, the card still in her hand. "It's okay, Holden. I'm not mad." She spoke softly and smiled, in case he was watching her with his peripheral vision. "I liked singing with you. You were ... well, you were amazing." She handed him the card, and as she did, for a few seconds he held gently to her fingers. Then for the slightest moment he lifted his eyes to hers and again the connection was intense and immediate. Holden was in there. He was in there and he wanted to come out, wanted to connect with her and the rest of his cla.s.smates. If Ella was reading him right, Holden even wanted to perform.

Please, G.o.d, set him free. Bring him out of the place where he hides away. Her heart melted for the young man before her, for the mountain of effort it took simply for him to make eye contact. The students were taking their seats, so Ella didn't have much time. She lifted her eyes to the sky outside the cla.s.sroom window. Lord, I know You love Holden. Could You give him a miracle? Please? Thanks for listening. Amen. Lord, I know You love Holden. Could You give him a miracle? Please? Thanks for listening. Amen.

Ella sat down and opened her script, but she couldn't think about Belle or the Beast or anything other than what she'd witnessed with Holden. For a short time he was exactly who he was supposed to be-singing and performing on a stage, his song in tune, his voice something Ella would remember forever. She would spend more time with Holden, and she would create more moments like the one they'd shared before the room filled with people. If somewhere deep inside him Holden wanted to sing, then Ella would do her part, the way she'd done it today.

She would play the music.

MANNY H HAWKINS COULD BARELY FOCUS ON THE REHEARSAL, because he'd seen more than he let on. When the beautiful tenor voice filled the rehearsal room before cla.s.s, he set down his pen and stopped searching for dollars in the theater department's skeletal line budget. He walked to his office door and opened it just a crack. For the next minute he stared through a half-inch opening, barely able to breathe, not believing his eyes. Holden Harris? The mesmerizing voice belonged to the autistic kid? How was that even possible? because he'd seen more than he let on. When the beautiful tenor voice filled the rehearsal room before cla.s.s, he set down his pen and stopped searching for dollars in the theater department's skeletal line budget. He walked to his office door and opened it just a crack. For the next minute he stared through a half-inch opening, barely able to breathe, not believing his eyes. Holden Harris? The mesmerizing voice belonged to the autistic kid? How was that even possible?

He couldn't see from his vantage point whether Holden was making eye contact with Ella, but he wasn't only singing. He was performing. That much was undeniable. He half expected Holden to bounce up from his seat and willingly take the stage for an encore round-even once the other students began filling the room. But wherever Holden had emerged from, he was lost to that place once more.

And so it was with great antic.i.p.ation that for the next few weeks Manny watched through the crack in his door as Holden arrived early each day, found his place on stage with Ella, and sang through nearly every song in the show. Manny didn't talk to Ella about what he was witnessing, but he was pretty sure she knew he was watching. Sometimes before cla.s.s would start she would exchange a look with him, and after a few days she approached him.

"You can hear him, right? He sings with me every day, Mr. Hawkins." Her eyes were earnest and believing. "Give him a part ... please. He can handle it. Just something small."

No matter what cosmic alteration or strangely arranged miracle Manny had witnessed with Holden Harris, he was hardly ready to a.s.sign a part to a kid with autism. This was his last production. If word got around that special-needs kids were in the cast, no one would come. Kids at Fulton High weren't looking to see these kids succeed. They were looking for a good show. And if the past was any indication, they weren't even looking for that.

Manny sighed, working his hand into his thinning hair. "It's not that simple. We're under review." He waved his hand at the aging props and weathered stage. "Everything has to be perfect this time ..." He held her eyes, and then shrugged, defeated. "The answer is no. I don't expect you to understand."

Ella tried again the next day. "He can sing, Mr. Hawkins. He's the best male vocalist we have ... if only we can get him to work with the cast."

"That's just it." A sad laugh came from Manny. "This isn't a project, it's a play. We don't have time to teach him."

The look in Ella's eyes almost broke Manny's heart. For a minute she reminded him of his oldest daughter, the way she looked when Manny's ex-wife stopped at his apartment on her way out of the state. That day his daughter looked the same way Ella looked. Betrayed and confused, and certain that the pain she was feeling was all because of him.

After that, Ella stopped asking. Even so Manny was drawn to the metamorphosis in Holden the way he hadn't been drawn to anything in years. He waited for 2:10 each afternoon and watched Holden through the crack in his office door. At the end of the second week, on a Friday, Ella was running through the lines at the end of the play when the Beast transforms into the Prince.

Manny didn't breathe, didn't move as he watched Holden appear at the cla.s.sroom door. He moved slowly toward the stage, toward the place where Ella was running her lines.

Ella had to see him, had to be aware that she was being watched. But instead of turning her attention to Holden, she slipped fully and completely into character. As if she were looking at a dying Beast, she dropped to her knees and covered her face. Her crying sounded desperate and convincing. "No! Please ... please don't leave me." She looked up at a blank place on the stage. "I ... I love you."

But then, instead of waiting for what would've been a time of fog and special effects where the Beast and the Prince switch places, Ella stood and purposefully started a song. Not the reprise that was supposed to happen at the end of this scene, but the entire theme song. As the music filled the room, Holden moved onto stage with the athleticism of a football player. He looked at Ella with heroic kindness as she turned to him.

"Tale as old as time ... True as it can be."

Ella reached out-tentative and unwilling to make the first contact with Holden. But as if he'd never landed anywhere on the autistic spectrum, Holden took her hands and sang about finding an unexpected friendship, each word filled with meaning.

The next lines came from Ella, their hands still joined. And as the music swelled they danced in a circle, their eyes intent on each other. His words felt aimed straight at her heart. The message was fitting, about being afraid and not quite ready for this kind of friendship.

They finished the song together and Manny wished he'd thought to capture the moment on film. It was-without a doubt -one of the most beautiful duet moments that had ever graced any stage at Fulton High.

"Tale as old as time ... song as old as rhyme ... Beauty and the Beast."

Suddenly, as if Manny were seeing a vision, the pieces came together. What if Holden Harris could do this for an audience? Wouldn't even the callous, indifferent, ignorant students at Fulton line up for the chance to see what Manny had just witnessed?

The music stopped, and just this once Manny hoped the change wouldn't come, that Holden wouldn't respond as if someone had killed the lights. Stay beside her, Holden ... Come on. Don't fade away ... Stay beside her, Holden ... Come on. Don't fade away ...

But in the absence of horns and flutes and strings, the switch flipped sure as Friday. Holden lurched off the stage, a different person, nervous, anxious, all signs of the confident performer gone. This time he flapped his arms, his hands tucked up near his chin-something he hadn't seen Holden do for weeks.

Manny stepped back from his office door and blinked twice. What was he thinking? He could no sooner put Holden Harris in the role of Prince than he could bring in circus animals for intermission. Never mind what Holden was capable of-there was no way to reach him on a regular basis, no way to count on him. And Manny needed kids he could count on-now more than ever. Holden Harris could never be a part of the cast.

The idea was outlandish and with that Manny vowed the obvious-he wouldn't consider such a thing again.

Twenty-Three.

ELLA HADN'T BEEN TO A BASKETBALL GAME ALL SEASON. SHE AND Jake weren't talking, and she rarely hung out with her old friends-even at lunch. But that Friday LaShante begged her to go. "Everyone else is meeting at Callie's house before the game and drinking." She rolled her eyes. "I'm not down with that, so come on. I need you, Ella. I don't want to go by myself." Jake weren't talking, and she rarely hung out with her old friends-even at lunch. But that Friday LaShante begged her to go. "Everyone else is meeting at Callie's house before the game and drinking." She rolled her eyes. "I'm not down with that, so come on. I need you, Ella. I don't want to go by myself."

She had thought about spending the evening at Holden's. She had stopped by a few times now -mostly to tell his mom about Holden's performances-the ones that lasted only a few minutes and took place every day lately before rehearsals. Today, his mom had even come to school to watch-through the hallway window. Holden didn't know, so when they finished singing, Ella cast a quick grin at his mom. On the other side of the gla.s.s, she was wiping tears. It wasn't that she hadn't believed Ella. But seeing Holden like this must've been like ... well, like watching how Holden might've been if he'd never slipped into autism.

But tonight the idea of the high school basketball game sounded fun. She made a plan to pick up LaShante, and the whole way to the game she tried to explain the progress she'd seen in Holden. "You should hear him."

"He can sing?" LaShante collected handfuls of her fine braids and swept them into a ponytail. "Can kids with autism do that?"

"Sometimes." Ella kept her eyes on the road. "I think Holden hears the music. Maybe more than healthy kids."

"Hmmm."

"No, I mean really." Ella couldn't overstate the change in Holden. "He sounds like Michael Buble or something. Seriously. He can sing, and when he does he looks straight at me. Like a melt-your-heart kind of look."

"Wow." LaShante raised one eyebrow. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you had feelings for him."

"Not like that." Ella laughed, and the sound was lighthearted. "He's my friend. He's been my friend since we were three."

"But he's cute." LaShante's eyes danced. "I mean, come on, girl, he's the hottest guy at Fulton. Weirdness and all." She pressed her lips together. "Mmmmm-hmm. And those blue eyes. Straight at you? I don't know ..."

"It's not like that." Ella laughed again as she turned into the school parking lot. "But you have to hear him sing. It's like he's a different person."

"Maybe music is the key." LaShante sat up straighter and adjusted her pale blue turtleneck.

"It is. That's what I'm saying." Ella parked the car and turned to her friend. "Music brings him out, it opens him up."

"So I guess the answer is obvious." LaShante opened the car door and smiled. "Girl... you gotta find a way to keep the music going."

Ella grinned. "Exactly." She and LaShante hurried out of the car and through the parking lot to the gym. The game was a blowout-Jake and his buddies beaten soundly by the cross-town rivals. During halftime, LaShante bought popcorn and a Sprite and then once she was back in the stands she turned troubled eyes at Ella. "I have to tell you something."