Ghost of Spirit Bear (12 page)

A
LL WEEKEND COLE
wondered if the Circle would change things.

On Monday morning, an uneasy calm hung in the air as teachers and police patrolled the halls. Metal detectors still guarded each entrance. A list of eighteen suggestions made during the Circle was handed out during first period.

Cole looked down the list and smiled. Someone had suggested that kids determine and enforce the dress code. Another suggestion was to start a newspaper so kids could be heard. He liked the suggestion of students meeting to help solve problems like vandalism and bullying. One idea Cole liked almost as much as his own was the suggestion that teachers be graded by students. Some teachers were a joke and had no clue how to teach. They demanded respect instead of earning it. Some classes were so boring, kids deserved extra credit for staying awake.

The problem was that you couldn’t flunk a teacher. Cole had heard it was nearly impossible to fire teachers once they’d taught for a while. And if teachers couldn’t be fired, what good would it do to flunk them? Maybe just posting the teachers’ grades would help. But they would never allow that either. Some teachers were like bullies—they could dish it out but they couldn’t take it.

Cole glanced one more time over the list. Hopefully, changing the mascot from a bulldog to a Spirit Bear wasn’t just a dumb idea.

That afternoon, Ms. Kennedy called another assembly. She spoke bluntly. “I heard a lot of big ideas Friday,” she said. “Now it’s time to put up or shut up.” She held up the list. “Each suggestion has a number.” She pointed out to the gym floor, where eighteen teachers were each holding a large cardboard number. “Pick a change you want to see, and when I give the word, go in an orderly manner to that number. The teachers will help you organize and elect a student leader. Then it will be up to you personally to work with your team to come up with a concrete plan to try and make your favorite suggestion become a reality.”

Ms. Kennedy examined the gym full of students. “This is all about change,” she said. “Today we’ll see how badly you want it. I’ll fight to help you, but only if you fight, too.” With that, students spilled from the bleachers to find their groups.

“I thought you said this was a dumb idea,” Cole said, when Peter joined the others who wanted to change the mascot.

Peter grinned. “I had to come and see how dumb.”

Cole looked around. Nearly two hundred students had gathered near his number. Theirs was the largest group. As smaller groups moved out of the gym, the mascot group remained behind in the bleachers with Mr. Brame, the band instructor.

“You have picked probably the hardest task,” said Mr. Brame. “It’s not easy changing a mascot. Besides financial costs, you’ll need approval from the school district. That won’t be easy, given the number of alumni who fondly remember their days here as Bulldogs. But, unless somebody has cold feet, let’s get going. Are there any nominations for a group leader?”

A tenth-grade girl with a long ponytail said, “Because Cole Matthews met the Spirit Bear and made the suggestion, I nominate him.”

The whole group responded with applause and agreement. Cole looked around desperately, but no additional nominations were made.

“Okay, then,” said Mr. Brame. “If there are no further nominations, I propose that Cole Matthews be elected as leader of your committee to change the mascot from a bulldog to a Spirit Bear. All those in favor, say aye.”

The whole group shouted, “Aye!”

Cole wanted to shout no! at the top of his lungs, but this
had
been his idea.

Mr. Brame turned to Cole. “It looks like you’re now the leader. I’m turning it over to you.”

Cole panicked as the bleacher full of students turned and stared at him. He stood up and worked his way down to the floor of the gym, where he could face the whole group. “Uh, I’ve never done anything like this before,” he stammered, looking around. “I’ll do my best, and if nobody minds, I’d like to appoint Peter Driscal as my assistant. He has seen the Spirit Bear, too.”

Peter blinked with surprise, then jumped to his feet and rushed down. He stood beside Cole with his shoulders squared.

Cole looked up into the bleachers and began. “Okay, how can we make this happen? Coming up with the idea was the easy part.”

“The dumb part,” whispered Peter.

As Cole waited for suggestions, Ms. Kennedy stopped by. “Do you mind if I make a short comment?” she asked.

“Uh, no, go ahead,” Cole said.

Ms. Kennedy spoke loudly without a microphone. “Your group needs to prove that most of the students want to change the mascot, either with a vote or by signatures collected on a petition. I’ll need that before I can submit it to the district office for consideration. Good luck!”

Cole had never organized people before—he had always been the screwup, the disrupter. Now it irritated him when kids chatted among themselves, making it hard for him to speak. Purposely he slowed his breathing and kept from getting angry.

“A few students think this is a dumb idea,” Cole said, giving Peter a playful nudge. “Well, the thing that will make this idea work isn’t if it’s dumb or not but if we’re all willing to make it happen. If anyone here isn’t ready to work and fight to make this a reality, please join some other group.”

Cole’s challenge sparked excitement. Three eleventh graders raised their hands and volunteered to write a proposal letter explaining the reasons for wanting the mascot change. Another group of five decided they would do a rough cost estimate because that was something the principal and the school district would need. Cole worried. What if the cost of changing uniforms and signs, printing new stationery, having a new statue made, and painting a new mascot on the gym wall was too high? Everywhere Cole looked he saw growling bulldogs.

What surprised Cole as the meeting progressed was how many of the students were followers but willing to help if someone told them what to do. By the time the period ended, the group had a plan. Instead of putting the change up for a student vote they decided to gather signatures—this would allow more time to convince reluctant students. Getting enough signatures wouldn’t be easy, but everybody promised to help.

As Cole left school that day with Peter, they stopped beside the bulldog statue.

“You two are wrecking our school!” shouted one of the jocks, walking by.

“You can’t wreck something that’s already wrecked!” Peter shouted back angrily.

“Hey, Peter, we’re Spirit Bears,” Cole reminded his friend. “Spirit Bears are strong, gentle, and kind.”

Peter thought a moment. “You got mauled, so that proves they can get pissed off, too.”

A few days later, Cole ran into Keith alone in the hallway. They both stopped and stood awkwardly, staring at each other. Cole broke the ice. “How are you?” he asked.

Keith shrugged. “Still sore.”

“Did you sign up for something?”

“Yeah—the newspaper,” Keith said.

“Do you like to write?”

Keith shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot. “I’m lucky to sign my name.”

“We can use help changing the mascot,” Cole said. “Maybe you could get some of your friends to sign the petition.”

“I’ll think about it,” said Keith. “Most of my friends are losers.”

“Hey, Keith,” Cole asked bluntly. “Were you one of those who beat up Peter?”

Keith looked up at the clock on the wall. “I better get to class,” he said, turning away.

Each day, Cole spent every spare minute with Peter and dozens of other students, circulating petitions and coaxing signatures from anyone who could hold a pen. One day Keith showed up unexpectedly and joined them, but he avoided Peter.

Some students refused to sign the petition, which was their choice, but one eleventh-grade football player threw the petition on the floor and gave Cole the finger. “I don’t give a rat’s butt what happens to this school,” he said with a smirk.

“You don’t care about your future ’cause you don’t care about yourself,” Cole answered calmly, picking up the sheets of paper. Before going to the island, he would have beat the jock silly.

When the last signature was collected, more than ninety percent of the students had signed. Armed with the petition, a cost estimate, and a letter stating the reasons for wanting a new mascot, Cole went to see Ms. Kennedy.

“I’m not sure how much good this will do,” she said, thumbing through the petition.

“Then why did we do all this work?” Cole said sharply.

“I’ll forward this with my recommendation to the district office,” she said. But to Cole it seemed like she had hardly glanced at the papers.

While they waited for an answer from the district office, some members of Cole’s group brought pictures of Spirit Bears to school, arguing over which would look best as a mascot painted on the gym wall. A few of the cheerleaders worked on new cheers using the Spirit Bear instead of the bulldog.

Cole wished Ms. Kennedy had been more encouraging. What if the plan wasn’t approved? What then? Cole knew that many adults looked at change as a threat.

Each day after school, Cole spent time with Peter, whose moods were more volatile since he’d been beaten up. Cole let him vent, imagining how he must be feeling.

One warm but blustery October afternoon, they walked down to the park. Cole beat sticks together like a drum while Peter tried to dance the way he had on the island. After spinning for several minutes in circles under the trees with his arms spread like an eagle, Peter stopped suddenly. “On the island, this was okay,” he said. “But here I feel like a dork.” He motioned toward several people who stood watching them with amused expressions.

Cole had to agree. Nothing was the same here, but he did feel he was starting to find a calm place deep inside himself where he could go when school and the city piled up on him. He hoped Peter was finding that place, too.

The sound of thunder caught their attention. “It’s looking like rain,” Cole said, glancing up at the dark clouds gathering overhead. “The school is only a block away—let’s go there.”

They headed out immediately, but sheets of rain were falling by the time they reached the school. Soaking wet, they ducked inside the front door.

“What a bummer,” said Peter.

Cole remembered Garvey’s words, that each person’s own reality was how they reacted to something and not what actually happened. Cole turned to Peter. “This isn’t a bummer if we don’t want it to be.”

“What do you mean?” Peter said, shaking his wet head like a shaggy dog. “I’m soaked, and that sucks!”

“Only if we let it suck. I’ll show you what I mean—follow me.” With that, Cole dashed suddenly back out into the drenching downpour.

“What are you doing?” shouted Peter, hesitating at the doorway. “We don’t have raincoats.”

“It’s a warm day, so staying dry or getting wet doesn’t make any difference,” Cole shouted. “I choose to be happy—that’s my reality!”

“Okay!” Peter screamed, running into the deluge. “Take that, you dumb rain!” he shouted, chasing Cole around the parking lot.

For ten minutes they ran in circles, laughing and splashing their feet in the puddles. Finally, soaked to the bone, they ducked back inside. Ms. Kennedy met them in the doorway. “Mind telling me why you two are running in the rain and screaming like lunatics?” she asked.

“We’re making our own reality,” Peter announced.

Cole grinned. “We’re proving that the rain can’t wreck our day.”

Ms. Kennedy shook her head. “You two are crazy.” She looked at her watch. “I’m leaving. I’ll give you two fools a ride home if you like.”

“We’re all wet,” Cole said.

“That’s okay—my old wreck has seen a lot worse than two wet maniacs.”

As they followed Ms. Kennedy to her car, Peter suddenly stumbled on the curb and fell hard across the wet pavement.

“Are you okay?” Ms. Kennedy asked, rushing to his side.

Peter rolled over on the wet ground, grimacing and holding his knee in pain. “I’ll be okay,” he groaned. “Dumb curb.”

Cole smiled. “Peter, skinning your knee isn’t reality. That’s just what’s going on outside your body. You can still be happy inside, remember.”

Peter looked up. “It hurts, you jerk. That’s my reality.” Then, without warning, he kicked Cole hard in the shin.

“Ouch,” said Cole, jumping backward. “Why did you do that?”

“Oh, that kick wasn’t
your
reality,” Peter mimicked. “You’re just whining. Pretend it didn’t happen.”

All three broke into laughter, and they kept laughing as Cole helped Peter to his feet and they crawled into Ms. Kennedy’s blue station wagon.

Chapter 13

I
T WAS ANOTHER
week before any word came back on changing the mascot. Ms. Kennedy’s voice sounded tired during the morning announcements. She ended by saying, “I’m sorry but the plan for a Spirit Bear mascot has been turned down by the district office. Thanks to all the students who worked so hard on that project.”

Cole felt like he had been kicked in the gut. First, adults told students that they could make a difference and that they should be responsible. Then they refused change. How could they refuse something that so many students wanted and worked for? It wasn’t fair.