Ghost of Spirit Bear (6 page)

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride?” his mother asked as they ate breakfast.

“I’m sure.”

“Are you okay?” she asked. “You’re awfully quiet this morning.”

“I’m fine—I just need time alone.”

Cole finished eating and gave his mother a quick kiss on the cheek. “Love you, Mom,” he said. “Remember, tonight’s the Circle.”

“I love you, too,” she said warmly, nodding.

As he walked to school, Cole’s thoughts were as troubled as his dreams. Yesterday, a cell phone had saved their hides, but what if there had been no cell phone? Then what? And tonight, would the Circle members still think of him as a punk troublemaker? It bothered him that his dad wasn’t coming. He was tempted to just show up at his office downtown to see what he’d do.

When Cole got to school, he went straight to the main office to wait. Peter arrived a few minutes later, and together they went in to see Ms. Kennedy.

“That was a slick trick you pulled yesterday,” she said. “Where did you get my number?”

“It was on one of the teacher’s desks,” Peter admitted.

“I don’t want students in the school running around with my cell phone number.”

“I d-d-didn’t give it to anybody,” Peter said, lowering his head. His voice showed disappointment. “It seemed like a good idea.”

“So what happened to the guys that picked on us?” Cole asked.

“I gave them detention for a week.”

“Detention won’t change anything,” Cole said. “It won’t stop the bullying. What are we supposed to do the next time they get in our face? Now they’re even more ticked at us.”

“If they bother either of you, report it to me or one of your teachers.”

“After we’ve been beat up,” Cole said. “Detention won’t change that.”

“Those five will get suspended if this happens again.”

“I doubt that,” Cole said. “They know there aren’t real consequences, otherwise they wouldn’t be bullies.” Cole bit back his anger. “Every day kids are getting hassled and nobody sees it or does anything about it.”

“Each person has to do his part,” Ms. Kennedy said. “It was good that you didn’t fight back yesterday.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Cole said angrily. “This isn’t about us not fighting back. When I was a bully, the more somebody refused to fight, the more I picked on him. Don’t you see, I’m screwed no matter what I do? If I use my fists, I go to jail. If we do nothing, we get used as punching bags.”

“Use your brains,” Ms. Kennedy said curtly.

“We d-d-did that,” Peter exclaimed. “We used the cell phone, and you didn’t like that.”

Ms. Kennedy reached across her desk and gathered papers into her hands. “There’s no easy answer. You two need to get to class now.”

After school, Cole found Peter near the bulldog statue. With school back in session, fresh gang symbols appeared each morning on the crumbling pedestal.

“What do you want to do if we’re not going to drop bowling balls?” Peter asked.

“Maybe we can look for a place to be invisible.”

“All right,” Peter said. “Let’s go someplace really quiet.”

Ten minutes later, they were still looking for a spot when they heard wild swearing and shouting. Ahead, they spotted two boys hassling the old homeless man from the abandoned building. One boy had tipped over his cart as the other taunted him.

At first the grizzled man brandished his whittling knife each time one of the tormentors ventured near, but soon he knelt and cowered, pulling the dirty white blanket tightly around his shoulders. Cole remembered cowering the same way when his father had whipped him with a belt. As Peter and Cole watched, one of the boys grabbed the man’s blanket. The bum clung to it desperately, but the boy yanked it away, laughing.

“Knock it off!” Cole shouted, breaking into a run.

At that moment, a police car rolled into view, lights flashing. The two boys took off running. The homeless man picked up his blanket and retreated to his tipped-over cart, glaring wildly and brandishing his knife at the world.

The two police officers climbed from their car and drew their pistols as they approached the crazed man. Slowly they circled him, talking patiently and holding out their hands for the knife. Finally one officer grabbed the old tramp from behind and wrestled the knife from his hand. They handcuffed him.

Cole ran up. “Officer, it wasn’t that guy’s fault.”

“And who are you?”

“I’m Cole Matthews. Two boys were hassling the old guy. They tipped over his cart and grabbed his blanket. He was just protecting himself.”

The bum eyed Cole with quiet blue eyes.

“Do you know the boys who did it?” the officer asked.

Cole shook his head. “I didn’t recognize them.”

“No matter what, this guy can’t be waving a knife at people,” said the second officer.

Peter joined Cole beside the police car. “He just carves with it,” Peter said. “We saw him whittling.”

“We still have to take him in.”

The patrol car drove off with the bum in handcuffs. His belongings were scattered on the ground: worn pieces of clothing, an old bowling trophy, a hand mirror, some broken toys, a bundle of clothes hangers, and ordinary trash as if the old guy was cleaning up the streets.

“Let’s put it all back in the cart and push it over to the building where he lives,” Cole said. “We’ll leave it inside.”

Quickly they picked up the scattered junk. They were almost finished when Peter called, “Hey, look at this!”

“What you got?” Cole asked.

Peter walked over and handed an object to Cole. “That’s what the guy was carving.”

Cole turned the small chunk of carved wood over in his hand. The guy had started carving a bear’s head. It was amazingly lifelike.

Peter took the carving back from Cole. “Man, this thing looks real—I want to try and carve one just like it.”

That night, Garvey brought his old station wagon by to pick up Cole and his mother for the Circle meeting. They all sat in the front seat. “So what have you and Peter been up to?” Garvey asked.

“Trying to pretend we’re on the island again. For a pond, we sat in a freezer down at Frazier’s grocery store. For ancestor rocks, we dropped bowling balls from an old abandoned building. But it’s not working.”

“You don’t need ponds or ancestor rocks anymore,” Garvey said. “Look at a leaf, glance up at the stars, or just close your eyes and breathe deeply. Go inside yourself to the place you’re already at. The island taught you where that place was. Now all you have to do is
be
there.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Because it is. Don’t fight it.”

“I’ll try,” Cole promised.

“How about the Spirit Bear?” Garvey asked. “Have you seen the Spirit Bear?”

Cole looked over at Garvey quizzically. “We thought we did on Monday, but it was just an old man.” Cole told Garvey and his mom about the homeless man being arrested. “When we picked up his stuff this afternoon, Peter found a bear head the old guy had started carving.”

“That’s a good sign,” Garvey said.

“Yeah—isn’t that a coincidence!”

“There are no coincidences,” Garvey said. “Remember that.” His face turned serious. “I don’t like that you two dropped bowling balls from an abandoned building.”

“We already quit doing that. It was a mistake.”

“A stupid mistake.”

“Hey, didn’t you ever make mistakes at my age?”

Garvey nodded. “Plenty of mistakes—but I also discovered that if you’re where you should be in your heart and spirit, you don’t make those mistakes. Cole, your heart and spirit not being in the right place really scares me.”

When Cole arrived at the Circle, half the chairs were already filled. He recognized the Keeper, the plump woman who had led the Circle that banished him to the island. Others from that meeting sat chatting quietly. One new face surprised him. “Ms. Kennedy, what are you doing here?” he whispered.

“Garvey invited me. Do you mind?”

“Uh, no,” Cole said nervously. Sitting down, he glanced around the room for any other surprises. Peter arrived, but his parents made him sit on the opposite side of the Circle.

At exactly seven o’clock, the Keeper stood and walked to the center of the group. As she called the meeting to order, everyone stood and joined hands as they had in previous Circles. This time, Cole found himself holding hands with his mother and Garvey. The last time, he had been between both his parents. Now his father was absent.

The Keeper began with a simple prayer—but it wasn’t a prayer to God, like in a church. It was a prayer to the powers that surrounded and filled all things. It was a prayer of honor and thankfulness.

Then the Keeper held up a large brown hawk feather. “This feather symbolizes honesty and respect. No one may speak without holding this feather. When you speak, speak from your heart. Tonight I’m beginning our Circle by letting Peter and Cole each tell of their experiences on the island. And then I would like Cole’s parole officer to tell of his experiences with the boys and how he thinks Cole has changed.” The Keeper turned to Ms. Kennedy. “I’ve also invited their new principal, Ms. Kennedy, to share her experiences with Peter and Cole since their return. Then we’ll pass the feather around the full Circle.”

As the Keeper handed him the feather, Cole tried to remain calm. It felt like he was telling someone else’s story when he described trying to escape from the island, being mauled by the Spirit Bear, and the night he began to change—a stormy night spent worrying about sparrows in a tree. “Lightning struck the tree,” Cole explained. “The sparrows were so helpless and innocent—they didn’t deserve to die. I couldn’t save them, but it was the first time that I cared about something other than myself.”

Cole finished by telling about Peter coming to the island and how they had become friends. “Before I left the island, Peter helped me carve a Circle on my totem. I wanted a Circle because Garvey taught me that our lives are a part of something bigger that touches all things. Every part of a Circle is both a beginning and an end, and in a Circle, everything is one.”

The Keeper smiled as Cole handed back the speaking feather. She handed it next to Peter.

“I don’t talk as good as Cole ’cause he kind of d-d-did a job on me,” Peter stammered. “But he had pretty bad stuff happen to him, too, when he was young. On the island, I figured out that he w-w-wasn’t the monster I thought.” Peter grinned. “He can still be a jerk when I beat him at cards.”

The group laughed, but Peter continued seriously. “Cole has changed. One day on the island I got mad at him and he let me beat him up really bad without fighting back. I know I shouldn’t have done that, but I was still really mad.”

Peter toyed with the feather, then looked directly at Cole. “I didn’t think I would ever say this, but now Cole is my best friend.”

When Garvey was handed the feather, he said, “I went through banishment myself as a child—that is why I wanted Cole to have the experience. Nothing on the island went the way we planned, but I have watched two boys grow and change in front of my eyes.” Garvey considered his next words. “Their battles aren’t over yet,” he said, “but I think they’ve both proved they’re mature enough to fight those battles. Any punishment for Cole at this time would be counterproductive.”

Cole waited nervously for Ms. Kennedy to speak. One word from her about the fight with Keith could send him to jail.

Ms. Kennedy turned the feather in her hand slowly. “I didn’t know either Cole or Peter before this school year,” she began. “It hasn’t been easy for them coming back to the city. I do know what they’re going through, and if they’re willing to try, I think they’ll make it.”

Instead of relief, Cole felt a flash of anger. He and Peter were already trying as hard as they could and it wasn’t working! Ms. Kennedy didn’t have a clue what they were going through!

When the Keeper started the feather around the full Circle, everyone, including Peter’s parents, agreed that Cole had changed during his banishment to the island. The group’s recommendation to the court was to place Cole on continued probation for the next two years. If Cole stayed out of trouble during that time, his record would be cleared. If not, jail would be the automatic next step.

The Keeper asked, “Does anybody else wish to speak?”

Cole held his hand forward for the feather. “Garvey said that Peter and I were mature enough now to fight our own battles here at home, but he’s wrong,” Cole began. “Since we got back, kids have been all over us, picking on us and wanting to fight. They get to me by picking on Peter. I won’t let them hurt Peter, but if I fight them, I go to jail. If I don’t fight them, they’ll hurt him. They call me psycho, and they call Peter gimp and retard.” Cole’s voice grew desperate and he swallowed the anger that was growing in his throat. “I don’t know what to do. I’m scared. We’ll do whatever you tell us to do.”

The feather went around the Circle again.

Ms. Kennedy wasn’t much help. “There are so many problems,” she said. “Why should educators discipline a student and risk ending up in a lawsuit? What motivation is there for a tenured teacher to try harder? Many have given up and don’t care anymore.”

An awkward silence filled the room as the feather continued around the Circle and other solutions and ideas for the bully problem were discussed. When the feather arrived back at the Keeper, she asked one last time, “Does anybody have anything else they would like to add?”

Again Cole raised his hand. Holding the feather, he looked around the Circle. “I have two last things to say. First, thanks for not giving up on me—I really mean that.” He paused, then looked directly at Ms. Kennedy and pinched the feather tightly. “Excuses don’t help me. Tomorrow, or the next day, when the bullies catch me away from the school, I still don’t know what to do.”

* * *

Garvey was quiet as he drove Cole and his mother home. When he stopped in their driveway, he turned and said, “Cole, I’m proud of your honesty in the Circle tonight. And I’m even more proud of you for being able to admit your fear. That takes a big person.”

Cole shrugged. “I still don’t know what to do,” he said. “When it comes right down to a bully in my face, what should I do?”