Unlocked by Karen Kingsbury

hall, drawn to the boy. Why was he doing that, and how come he wouldn’t talk?
    “He’s autistic.” The teacher turned to her, her voice quiet. “He does push-ups when he gets overstimulated.”
    Overstimulated?
“I think he liked the music.” Ella had heard of autism, and she’d seen an old rerun of
Rain Man
on television last year. But she’d never known anyone who had it. “Can’t he stay? So he can hear us sing?”
    The woman shook her head. “He needs to be with other special-needs kids.” She took a few steps closer to the guy, still on the floor doing push-ups. So many push-ups Ella was starting to worry about him.
    “Maybe he’d feel better if he stayed.”
    Her expression grew impatient, as if Ella couldn’t possibly understand someone with autism. “Not today.”
    The kid was getting up, his face red and sweaty. He walked a few steps toward the gym, then back their way again, but he wasn’t looking at Ella the way he did before. She closed the distance between them and stopped a few feet from him. “Hi.” She held out her hand. “I’m Ella Reynolds.” In the classroom behind her she could hear Mr. Hawkins starting up again on the piano.
    The special needs kid walked to his backpack, unzipped the top, and pulled out a large deck of flash cards. At least they looked like flash cards. He sifted through them super fast and found whatever he was looking for. Then he held up the card so Ella could see it. The card was a pair of eyes with two words written beneath them:
I see.
    “You see? You see me?” Ella looked back at the teacher. Her arms were crossed and she was clearly ready to move along. She turned her eyes to the kid again. “What’s your name?”
    “Holden Harris.” The teacher was clearly out of patience. “His name’s Holden Harris. That’s his favorite card. ‘I see.’ It’s the only way he has to communicate.” She motioned dramatically to the kid. “Come on, Holden. Time to go.”
    “What does it mean?” Ella wanted to know. If the look in Holden’s eyes was any indication, he saw a lot. More than people probably thought.
    “Nothing.” The teacher directed Holden to his backpack. “It’s the card he shows people when he’s upset, when he doesn’t know what’s happening around him.”
    “Ella!” One of the girls from the Beauty cast poked her head out the classroom door. “Hurry up. Break’s over.”
    She was out of time. Holden was placing the card with the eyes on it back into the deck. She didn’t have long. “Bye, Holden.” She ignored his teacher. “Come back again, okay?”
    He looked at her, but only for a few seconds. Then he lifted his backpack over his shoulder and walked quickly toward the gym. His teacher didn’t say anything, just hurried after him, like she was glad to have him back on task.
    Ella watched him go, and then hurried into the room. The kids were back in their seats for the most part, and Mr. Hawkins was at the piano, flipping through the score. She came to his side and lowered her voice. “Mr. Hawkins, what if there’s a student who wants to sit in on our class? Would that be okay?”
    Mr. Hawkins let out a heavy sigh, and ran his hand over his balding head. “Miss Reynolds, why do I think you’re not serious about this production?”
    “Serious?” Ella felt her expression fall. “Of course I’m serious. This has nothing to do with me. I’m talking about a kid from the special-needs group. He wanted to stay, but his teacher wouldn’t let him. So next time, I just thought maybe he could—”
    “Please, Miss Reynolds, you don’t understand what you’re asking.” He shook his head, clearly discouraged. “As beleaguered as our drama department has become, I can’t let it become a babysitting service.” He turned to the music. “Now, if you’d please sit down …” He raised his voice. “From the beginning.”
    Ella wanted to scream. If Holden Harris felt like listening to them sing, what could that hurt? She