Free Unlocked by Margo Kelly

Introduction to Creative Writing.
    The other upperclassmen on the student council and I had planned it out perfectly. We figured an open period before lunch gave us plenty of time to leave school grounds and go somewhere fun to eat. We’d be back in time for our leadership class together, but even if we returned late, our advisors would cut us slack. They usually did.
    I lingered in a daze until other students began to arrive. They whispered and wandered by me. The pit in my stomach grew. I grabbed my backpack and headed off for broadcasting. Maybe Mr. Arnold needed help setting up the studio equipment.
    Upstairs in the broadcasting studio, I found Chelsea rehearsing behind the anchor’s desk. Mr. Arnold interrupted her and gave her pointers. Mark leaned against the wall, watching. There was also a guy working the camera, and through a side window, I spotted Eugene working in the equipment booth.
    “What is Chelsea doing here?” I asked.
    Everyone twisted in my direction. My backpack dropped to the floor with a thud.
    “Chelsea,” I said, “a second ago, you were giving out schedules. Now you’re here—”
    “Oh, Hannah!” Mr. Arnold said and adjusted his brown spectacles. “We’re so glad to see you. We assumed you’d be home recovering from the accident.”
    Heat rose from my chest to my face. My voice cracked when I asked, “Why is Chelsea in my chair?”
    Mr. Arnold tugged at his tan plaid shirt around his generous midriff. “She offered to fill in for you as anchor today.”
    I glared at Chelsea. “You knew I was here.”
    “You left.” Chelsea smiled like an angel. “I figured you went home. You’re probably too emotional to stay the whole day. What with the accident and all.”
    I lunged across the desk and swung at her. She ducked before my fist connected, but she screamed as though it had. And she kept screaming. Mr. Arnold seized me around the waist with one of his large fleshy arms and pulled me back from the desk. I wrestled free from him.
    “You’re a freaking psycho!” Chelsea popped up from behind the desk and swept her long blond hair from her face.
    “Forget your meds this morning?” Mark turned against me and slunk around the desk to help Chelsea.
    Mr. Arnold grabbed my backpack, and with his other hand, he gripped my wrist and led me out of the studio.
    “I wasn’t really going to hit her,” I said.
    “Are you sure you’re ready to come back to school?” Mr. Arnold wiped perspiration from the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Then he repositioned his glasses.
    “I’m the morning anchor.”
    “I know,” he said, “but maybe it’s too soon. Emotions are running high. Maybe you should go hang out in the library this period, and we’ll try again tomorrow.” He handed me my backpack. I let it thump to the floor. Then I dragged it behind me as I walked away.
    In the library, students gawked at me.
    “What?” I said. No one responded, except for the librarian, who shushed me. I feigned self-discipline, propped my backpack against a table, and repositioned my hairband.
    I could barely breathe. I texted Mom and begged her to come and get me, but she had to stay at work.
    She texted back: Hang in there!
    I texted Manny, but he didn’t respond. He was probably still at the hospital.
    “Hannah?”
    I glanced up. Eugene stood next to me.
    “You okay?” he asked.
    “Aren’t you supposed to be in the control booth, helping with the morning broadcast?”
    He held up the ginormous three-by-ten-inch wooden bathroom pass that Mr. Arnold made people carry. It had the words I NEED TO PEE painted on it. Mr. Arnold thought it was funny. I thought it was humiliating.
    “I wanted to make sure you’re all right,” Eugene said.
    I suddenly recalled how Eugene had said those exact words to me over five years ago on my first day of school in Idaho. I had been eating lunch by myself when he joined me. He was kind and said that my eyes reminded him of his mother’s eyes,