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, class.” 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 classmates. If Ella was reading him right, Holden even wanted to perform.
Please, God, 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 classroom window. 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 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 class, 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 anticipation 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 class 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 assign 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 classroom 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 …
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. A
nd 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.”
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 glass, 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.”
Ella felt her heartbeat quicken. LaShante didn’t like high school drama anymore than Ella did. Whatever was coming, it was worth talking about. Otherwise LaShante wouldn’t have brought it up. “Something about Krissy or Jenny?”
“No.” LaShante scowled. “About Jake. I heard it this week and I wanted to text you. But I thought … I thought I’d wait until I could tell you in person.”
“Okay.” Ella felt herself relax. She didn’t care about Jake anymore. There was almost nothing LaShante could tell her that would affect her night one way or the other. “Tell me.”
“He’s telling everyone that you and Holden …” She hesitated, shadows in her eyes. Very little embarrassed LaShante. Of all Ella’s friends, she was the most outspoken. But here, her pretty brown eyes looked unsure about whether she could go on. “He’s telling people you’re hooking up with Holden.” She raised her brow. “Like … all the way, hooking up.” She rolled her eyes. “So I feel terrible joking around about you and him. You know, on the way here.”
A sick feeling slammed into Ella. “Why would he do that?” Ella looked out at the basketball floor. How could she ever have liked Jake Collins? The fact that he’d ever charmed her into thinking he was a good guy made her angry with herself. The Eagles were taking the court, passing the ball around and taking practice shots, warming up for the second half. Even from her place in the stands, Ella could see the cocky smile on Jake’s face.
LaShante sighed, and the look on her face grew uncomfortable once again. “There’s more.”
Ella steeled herself. Whatever it was, she could trust LaShante. And if it meant she needed to tune out on the social scene at Fulton altogether, so be it. She’d already done that, anyway. LaShante and Holden were the only real friends she had—and graduation was only a semester away. Who cared about Jake?
Her friend crossed her arms and made a face. “He’s got a bet going with Sam. Sometime before graduation, he’ll sleep with you—one way or another. Otherwise he owes Sam a hundred bucks.”
“A hundred bucks?” Ella wanted to throw up. Was that all she was worth to Jake and his boys? A hundred-dollar bet? Suddenly a thought occurred to her. “One way or another?”
“Yeah.” Anger flashed in LaShante’s eyes. “He said if Holden gets you … he wants you too. Sounds like a threat to me.” She jerked her thumb in the direction of the basketball court. “Like maybe you should tell the authorities.”
Jake Collins forcing himself on her? In September, Ella would’ve laughed at the idea. But now… a shiver ran down her arms. She would keep her distance from him. If her mom was involved in her life, she’d go home tonight and tell her, first thing. But her mom didn’t even know her. No, she’d have to look out for herself. She’d keep her distance and stick to spending time with Holden and—once in a while—with LaShante.
Ella was almost glad for another reason to stay away. The longer she was away from the popular crowd of kids, the more she could see the worst of them for what they were. Cocky, arrogant bullies. Between them they had a code of ethics that required mean, mocking behavior. They sat together at lunch and called out mean names to anyone who walked by—kids who were too short or too smart or too fat. Skinny kids like Michael and kids like Holden.
Ella watched the guys run up and down the floor, watched them sub in and out of the game and argue with the coach or the refs. Did any of them wish they could break free the way she had? Wish they could live their own lives and make their own social decisions without having to impress Jake or his guys? Ella had to think so.
Holden wasn’t the only one locked up inside himself.
Ella didn’t see Michael Schwartz until after the game, outside on the school’s front courtyard. Ella and LaShante were talking with some of the other girls, hearing about a party later that night, when Michael exited from the school’s main front doors. He might’ve been practicing with the school band, because he had his flute case tucked under his arm and he was headed for the bike racks on the edge of the parking lot.
“So Jake’s been hitting on this ugly freshman girl.” Krissy was more giggly than usual. Probably the drinking beforehand. “She’ll be at the party, Ella. You should totally come, girl. I mean, then you could get Jake back to his senses.”
“Yeah, he’s your guy.” Jenny put her hands on her hips. “You two need to figure things out before Christmas break.”
“I don’t like Jake.” Ella was patient, but she wanted to leave. She kept part of her attention on Michael. He looked lonely, troubled. She thought about excusing herself from the girls and talking to him. She remembered to smile. “The freshman girl can have him.”
“Have who?”
She felt someone behind her,
and she turned in time to see a freshly showered Jake strutting up. Sam and Ryan were on either side. Ella wanted to scowl at the guys, but she stopped herself. Better to leave without a lot of drama. She met his eyes briefly. “Jake … Sam … Ryan.”
Krissy bounced into the space between them. “Good game, guys. The refs were terrible. You definitely should’ve won!”
“Yeah, that three-pointer was the bomb,” Jenny giggled. “Right girls?”
“Yeah, you know it … I was on tonight.” Jake grinned—his arrogance like an impenetrable force around him. His eyes were on Ella, and her alone. “We’ll get ’em next time.”
Before the other girls could spout off another bit of empty praise, Sam nudged Jake hard in the arm. “Look,” he motioned toward the parking lot. “There’s that freak kid. Goth music boy, remember?”
A sick feeling started in Ella’s stomach. “Leave him alone.” She didn’t say it loud or forcefully, but she said it.
“What’s this?” Jake laughed—the mean sort of laugh that meant he was about to pick up steam. He kicked lightly nudged Ella’s white tennis shoe with his own. “Don’t tell me you have feelings for Queer Boy too? Him and Holden Harris?” He chuckled louder and shoved Sam’s shoulder. “You hear that?” Sam sneered at Ella. “Coupla freaks.”
Jake moved out from the crowd in Michael’s direction. When he was twenty yards away, he shouted at Michael. “Hey Emo Boy …”
Michael was bent over working on his bike lock, his flute case on the ground beside him. He must’ve been struggling with the combination, because it was taking too long. Once more Ella wanted to run and help him, but that wouldn’t be good. Not with Jake and his gang watching.
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