No one except Holden Harris.
If he weren’t autistic, he could play the part based on his looks alone. But that wasn’t going to happen, because already Holden was working his wings again. Flapping and nodding his head. Discouragement flooded his mind and heart. Why did he bother praying? They weren’t going to get a miracle for the drama department, and not for Holden Harris, either. Manny embraced his disappointment. It was at least familiar. And no harm done about the hope he’d felt earlier.
He hadn’t really expected prayer to work, anyway.
Ten
ELLA COULD HARDLY WAIT FOR THEATER CLASS TO END. SHE planned to pull Holden aside and tell him the amazing truth —they had been friends when they were little! And how great it was that they’d found each other now! But when Mr. Hawkins reached the loudest, most intense part of the song, Holden lost it. Ella watched him, helpless to do anything. Holden still didn’t know who she was, after all. She couldn’t just run up and expect him to find comfort in anything she might say or do.
Even now when he had to be tired from his push-ups, Holden was still moving his arms. He looked intent on something, like he was trying to accomplish a task. Ella glanced back at him several times, but Holden never let his eyes meet hers. He looked a few inches to her right or left, but never straight at her. It’s his autism, she told herself. A lack of communication, little or no eye contact, repeated behaviors. They’re locked in a world all their own, one website had explained.
Throughout the last painful minutes of class, Mr. Hawkins had everyone sing again, but a few of the guys still laughed at Holden.
“Maybe he wants to play the Beast,” some kid whispered. “Next thing you know he’ll do a transformation.”
“Hey,” Ella kept her voice low. She tapped the guy’s shoulder hard enough to make a mark. “He’s autistic. Give him a break.”
The kid looked like he wanted to cuss at her. But he thought twice and closed his mouth. Again Mr. Hawkins stopped the song.
“Really, people? Is this your best?” He gave a sad shake of his head. “If so, this is a grand disappointment. If we cannot gather ourselves for five minutes the outcome will be dire indeed.” He waited until the room was silent. “Now let’s hear the fear in your voices. One voice. Ensemble.” He began playing the piano. “And… begin!”
The cast was able to sing the song through without distraction this time, and when Mr. Hawkins dismissed them, Ella gathered her books and turned toward Holden. A few kids approached him, as if they intended to welcome him or ask him a question. But no matter who came close, Holden didn’t respond. He looked like he might jump up and sprint from the room. But instead he hung his head, gripped the edge of the seat, and rocked hard—so hard he had to catch himself from falling to the floor a couple times. Eventually the kids gave up and went their own ways.
Ella bit her lip and took a step closer. Here goes, she told herself. He’ll remember me and then maybe he’ll feel safe talking. She took a deep breath, but just as she was about to walk up, she saw a familiar-looking woman in the back of the room. Ella hadn’t noticed her, but she must have been here throughout class. The woman was … Ella let out a quiet gasp. She was Holden’s mother—the woman from the pictures in her parents’ scrapbook.
Ella looked at Holden, but he was still staring at the floor, still rocking. So far she hadn’t told anyone about her discovery —that she and Holden had been best friends when they were little. Her mother had come home too late, and the house was empty most of the next day. Ella still hadn’t told her about winning the part of Belle for the spring production. She certainly wasn’t ready to ask about Holden. Not until she talked to Holden’s mother.
She had a feeling she would get a more honest answer from
her.
Her research on autism had taught her a lot, but most of all it taught her what the old photographs already made clear. Holden wasn’t born with it. Some kids showed signs of autism all their lives, from birth on. But others, like Holden, reached a certain age around two or three and then started slipping away. Regression, the websites called it. There were all sorts of therapies people tried with their autistic kids—therapy dealing with nutrition and motor skills, intellect and behavior. Even something called chelation therapy. Some of it worked, some didn’t, according to the experts.
But most of the time, after a person was diagnosed with autism they never made their way back or found their way out of the world inside their mind. Never managed to unlock the doors and step into the real world again.
Mrs. Harris was talking to Mr. Hawkins, so Ella moved in closer to Holden. He wasn’t rocking as badly now, and he was sitting a little straighter in his seat, even though his eyes were still downcast. She walked up slowly, so she wouldn’t scare him. The other kids were all gone now, and the hallway outside the classroom was almost empty.
She practically tiptoed the final steps as she closed the distance, then she lowered herself carefully into the seat beside him. She set her backpack down without making a sound and turned to face him. “Holden?”
He stopped rocking, and looked straight ahead.
Bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, she thought. Shining and innocent and full of light. They caught her off guard and for a moment Ella wasn’t sure what to say. Like it was enough to get a glimpse of his eyes and know at least one comforting thing—the private world of Holden Harris must be a beautiful place. Otherwise his eyes couldn’t have looked like that.
She tried again. “Holden?” Her instinct was to reach out and touch his shoulder, connect with him somehow. But she remembered autistic kids need their space. She was probably close enough. The right words escaped her, but she tried anyway.
“Holden?”
He didn’t move, didn’t look up at her.
“Holden … My name’s Ella. We used to be friends a long time ago. When we were two or three years old.”
Holden rocked ever so slightly, his eyes still straight ahead. Then he reached into his backpack and pulled out his stack of flash cards. With a quick, jerky motion he sifted through them, almost like he was desperate to find the one he wanted to show her. Finally, he pulled out the card. The edges looked newer than some of the others. Then, without looking at her, he showed her the card. Almost the way a magician shows a card to an audience when he wants everyone to see it, but no one to touch it.
This time the cards had a heart and music notes on it. Beneath the drawings were the words “I love music.”
“I thought so.” Her heart melted. She kept her words kind and gentle. “I thought so. That’s why you want to be in the class, right?”
Holden slipped the card back in with the others and mixed them up a little, sifting through and sorting them as if he had a system to the way he liked them organized.
She couldn’t stop thinking about the card he’d shown her. He loved music. She wanted to hug him, but again she stopped herself. At least he was opening up, even a little. She kept her hands to herself, folded on the edge of her knees. “Do you remember me, Holden? How we used to play when we were little?”
He turned his head just enough that she was certain he had heard her. But before he could look at her the way he’d done that day in the cafeteria, his mother walked up and stood on Holden’s other side. “Hi.” She smiled at Ella. “You must be the one who helped Holden?”
Mr. Hawkins had already left the room and returned to his adjacent office. Ella’s heart pounded, but she stood and smiled. “Yes, ma’am. I asked Mr. Hawkins to let him have a seat in class, if that’s what you mean.”
“It is.” The woman looked older than she had in the photographs, weary and worn out around the corners of her eyes. But she was still pretty. Thin with nice cheekbones and long brown hair she wore in a simple ponytail. She put her hand on Holden’s shoulder. “We need to get Holden to his after-school therapy.” Her smile was warm and sincere. “Thank you again, for caring about Holden.”
Ella wasn’t sure if this was the time, especi
ally if Holden and his mother were in a hurry. But she couldn’t hide the truth another moment. “Do you recognize me, ma’am?”
Mrs. Harris did a double take, her smile still in place. As she did, Holden began mixing through his cards once more, his pace practically frantic. His mother didn’t seem to notice. Either that, or she was just used to Holden’s odd behavior. Mrs. Harris shook her head. “You do look a little familiar.” She allowed a nervous laugh. “Look at me, I haven’t even introduced myself.” She held out her hand. “I’m Tracy Harris, Holden’s mother.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She took the woman’s hand and didn’t break eye contact. “I’m Ella.” She paused, letting her first name sink in for a moment. “Ella Reynolds.”
The shock hit Holden’s mother in stages. First with a sense of surprise and excitement, and then just as quickly her joy turned to a deep kind of sadness. She squeezed Ella’s hand softly and released it as her smile dropped off. “Ella …” Her eyes grew watery. “I never thought … I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.”
Ella nodded. There were tears in her eyes too. “What … what happened? To you and my parents?”
Mrs. Harris started to say something, but her chin was quivering. Instead she glanced at Holden, who was still looking through the cards. Suddenly he pulled one card from the deck and showed it to his mother, and then to her. It was the card from the other day, the one with the eyes on the top, and the words that said “I see.”
“You see, Holden?” Mrs. Harris reached toward him like she might put her hand on his shoulder, but then she seemed to change her mind. She crossed her arms instead. “What do you see?”
Ella had to wonder. “He showed me that card the other day, the first time I noticed him watching our theater class.” She didn’t want to say so, but maybe the card had something to do with her, maybe even that Holden had remembered seeing her somewhere before. “So why? What happened to the four of you?” Ella lifted her eyes to Holden’s mother again, and her look needed no explanation.
A horrifying feeling spread through Ella’s chest. “Holden?” her voice was barely a choked whisper. “Is that why … why you and my parents …”
Tears pooled in the woman’s eyes now. “It was a long time ago, Ella. People change.” She glanced at her watch. “I’d love to talk sometime. But we have to go.”
Ella nodded, her throat tight. “Yes, ma’am.” She barely brushed her fingertips against Holden’s elbow. His arms were solid, like those of the football players she hung out with. All the push-ups, probably. Ella’s heart felt broken over the sad possibility that hung between them. “Holden … I’m glad I found you.” She dabbed at a single tear as it slid down her cheek, and she uttered a sound that tried to be more laugh than cry. “I’d like … to be friends again.”
Holden didn’t say anything. He only slid the I see card back into the deck, and placed the deck in his backpack once more. Mrs. Harris reached for Ella’s hand and gave it a brief squeeze. “Thank you … for helping Holden. He really does love music.”
Ella felt the corners of her lips lift a little. “I know.”
Mrs. Harris directed Holden toward the door, and then she took the lead into the hallway. Ella watched, unmoving, her eyes on Holden. Then, before he left the room he did something that made her believe in the impossible, in the miracle Holden Harris still needed.
He turned and looked at her.
Not through her or near her, but straight into her eyes. Never mind that as he turned around he started flapping his arms again. In that moment Ella knew whatever had happened in the past, why ever their parents’ friendship had ended, and however far gone Holden had slipped into his private world of autism, this was only the beginning. Because Holden’s eyes were not only full of light and innocence as he looked at her, but they shone with something that hadn’t been there before.
A pure and childlike hope.
Eleven
HOLDEN COULD HARDLY WAIT TO PRAY FOR ELLA. THIS WAS why they’d found each other, after all. Because God had answered his prayers and finally … finally, He had brought back Holden’s very best friend. Dear Jesus, thank You for a perfect day! You let me be part of the theater group, and You let me pray when everyone tried to kill the Beast. He’s a nice Beast, Jesus. You know that. No one needs to kill him. You made the drums go away, and You let my mom be here with me to sing along. But most of all, You brought back Ella! Thank You for doing that, God. I know You love me … your friend, Holden Harris.
A feeling of joy and satisfaction worked through Holden’s body. He replayed his conversation with Ella as he and his mom walked to the car. She’d come up to him, just as sweet and kind as she was in the movie every day. “Holden?”
Yes, Ella?
Her smile was the one he liked best of all. “Holden, do you remember me?”
Of course I do. I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me. He liked the way she smelled. Like flowers and fresh soap. We used to run through the fields and dance around and around and sing, remember that?
Ella remembered. Of course she remembered.
Our favorite song was ‘Jesus Loves Me.’ Remember that too?
A song filled the air around them and it was rich and deep and full and it spread across the room and out the windows, so that the whole school and then the whole city and even the whole world could hear it. This time the song had words, and it was their song. The song he and Ella used to sing. Jesus loves me, this I know … for the Bible tells me so … Little ones to Him belong … they are weak but He is strong.
Even the kids leaving school and getting on the busses could hear the song, and everyone was singing. Well, most of the people. Some kids didn’t know the words yet. And he and Ella began to dance around the room and his mom watched from the side, the way she used to watch from the side when they were little. Only Ella’s mom wasn’t there, but somewhere … somewhere she was singing. Holden was sure.
And then he and Ella talked about the play. Beauty and the Beast. Holden had to pray a lot when the people wanted to kill the Beast, because the Beast was so nice inside. He looked mean, but his heart was kind and gentle. And not everyone looked the same on the outside. Some people were like Gaston and they looked nice on the outside but on the inside they were locked up and sad. Some of the kids at school were like that. A lot of them wore the football shirts.
They were like Gaston.
But the Beast was a good person. If Holden could be in the play he would want to be the Beast, very kind like the Beast. But maybe he’d rather be the Prince at the end. Because the Prince looked on the outside the way the Beast was on the inside. Sometimes people couldn’t see the inside of a person unless they liked the outside of a person. Because they hadn’t learned to hear the music yet.
His mother was saying something, but the music changed and grew loud again, the strings and keyboard swirled together for the most beautiful sound. Holden sang along, dancing down the hallway and praying for Ella. This was a song he hadn’t heard much of before, but maybe it would end up being his favorite song of all. Because this song was the one he’d been waiting for all his life.
A song called “Maybe Ella and I Will Have a Second Chance to be Friends.”
He told his mom about it the whole way to therapy.
Twelve
ELLA COULDN’T FOCUS ON HER ALGEBRA HOMEWORK. SHE hadn’t gotten all the information she wanted from Holden’s mother, but the woman’s eyes told her enough. The friendship between their families must have fallen apart when Holden began showing signs of autism.
The longer Ella thought about the possibility, the angrier she became. Sun streamed through the window and splashed rays of light across the kitchen counter. Ella pushed her homework aside and walked upstairs to the scrapbook that held the pictures of Holden and her. Again she sat on the floor and flipped through the pages and this time she found other pictures, enough that the reality of the situation became clearer than before. Their families weren’t only good friends. They were
best friends.
She found a photo where she and Holden were sitting next to each other in a double-seat swing. They had their arms around each other’s shoulders and in their free hands they held what looked like chocolate ice-cream cones. Smears of chocolate were on their cheeks and shirts, and the image eased Ella’s anger. She looked at Holden’s little face, the way his eyes pierced the camera, the joy in his expression. The photo had definitely been snapped mid-laugh, and it was clear Holden was happy and healthy.
The longer Ella looked into Holden’s three-year-old eyes the more she was convinced: what she saw there was still a part of Holden today. That fun-loving child was inside him somewhere. She’d seen a glimpse of him, when he looked back at her before he left with his mom.
From downstairs came the sound of a door opening. “Ella?” It was her mother.
Her anger burned quick and intense once more. She didn’t answer. Instead she stood and tucked the scrapbook safely beneath her arm. Ever since she saw the pictures of Holden and her for the first time she’d known this moment was coming. Now, after getting a glimpse of what must’ve separated the two families, Ella was furious with her mother. She padded downstairs into the kitchen in time to see her mom drop her gym bag and grab a glass from the cupboard. She turned as Ella walked closer. “Oh, hey, honey. How was school?”
Like you care, she wanted to say. “Fine.” She folded her arms in front of her, the scrapbook clutched to her chest. Her mom was drinking her water now, looking at her reflection in the glass door of the built-in microwave. Her Botox was completely worked into her face, so her forehead was once again very smooth. Too smooth.
“That’s it?” Her mom kept her eyes on her reflection, pressing her fingers against the skin beneath her eyes and above her brow. “Just fine?” Then, as she finished her water, she laid her hand against her flat stomach, like she was checking that the workout had paid off. She glanced at Ella, and then back at her reflection.
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