Free Unlocked by Margo Kelly Page B

need to replace my leadership class that’s after lunch.” Because only student council members took that class.
    “Hannah,” Mr. Turney said, “why would you want to quit?”
    I’d worked so hard to win the student council office with the posters, the promises, and the parties. A part of me wanted to keep the position, but the idea of continuing on when Lily lay in a hospital bed, and Jordan lay dead, wrenched my heart right out of my chest. We were supposed to all be in student council leadership together, and I couldn’t do it without them, especially when Chelsea blamed me for the accident. I might not be able to control everything, but I could control my resignation. I didn’t trust myself around Chelsea. Maybe she and the others would criticize me less if I stepped down from my position. Plus, that would be one less class period I’d have to endure with her, and I needed some semblance of peace.
    “Hannah?” Mr. Turney smoothed his mustache with his thumb and forefinger.
    “Thanks, Mr. Turney, but I’ve already decided.”
    “If you’re sure,” he said.
    “I am.”
    He tapped his keyboard. “To replace leadership, how about art?”
    I knew nothing about art. I’d always been too busy with student council and broadcasting to even consider an art class.
    “What are my other choices?”
    “Well, most of the classes after lunch are already full. You could do first-year French, Physics, Choir, or Advanced Art.” He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands.
    “Can I have another open period?”
    He squinted at the computer monitor. “Not if you still want to graduate this year. You need to meet the required number of class credits.”
    “How can I take Advanced Art when I haven’t taken the prerequisites?”
    “Under the circumstances . . . what with the accident and all . . .”
    My heart beat faster, and my hands began to sweat. I imagined lunging at Mr. Turney the way I had at Chelsea in broadcasting, but even more, I saw my fingers wrap around his throat. His face reddening. A voice behind me whispered, “Do it.”
    I spun around to see who had said it, but no one was there. I held my breath, afraid to look at Mr. Turney. I needed to regain my composure, but I felt completely unnerved. I gasped for air and tried to picture Manny. His lips moved as he told me he loved me. I drew in a deep breath and swiveled back around in my chair.
    Mr. Turney’s jaw hung slack as he stared at me.
    “Art sounds fine, thank you,” I said. I plucked a tissue from the box on Mr. Turney’s desk and wiped the perspiration from my face.
    He made the corrections on my class schedule and returned it to me. I rose, hesitated, and with reluctance I plopped back down and passed my schedule back to him. “What’s available during this class period?”
    “Auto Mechanics, Latin, Law Enforcement I, or Introduction to Psychology.”
    “Psychology.”
    He made the changes and suggested I go to lunch and attend psychology tomorrow since the bell would ring soon. I agreed. I moved through the lunch line, and with my tray in hand I debated where to sit. Since the cafeteria was the land of underclassmen, I walked out to the barren soccer field and for the first time in years, I ate lunch by myself. I considered the art class instead of leadership with my friends. Former friends. Advanced Art was for the students who’d taken an art class every year in high school. I would be a finger painter among the Rembrandts and Monets.
    I strolled back to the Commons and threw my trash into a bin. Right then, the student council members clambered in from another door, laughing and joking with one another. I shuddered and turned in the other direction. We all had such great plans for this year. And now I’d be alone in Advanced Art. I headed down the hall, but had to stop and pull out my schedule to find the room number . . . M193. I’d never even set foot in that part of the building before.
    I arrived at M193 and hovered