Ghost of Spirit Bear (10 page)

“Those are bad things,” Garvey said plainly. “What are you doing about it?”

“The principal is the only one who can do anything, and she doesn’t care,” Cole said.

“There’s always something you can do.”

“It’s not that easy,” Cole protested. “I can’t just snap my fingers and fix a whole school.”

“Did I say it would be easy?” said Garvey. “But when the ground is torn up, that’s when you plant seeds.”

“We’re not talking about farming here,” Cole said. He fought to keep his voice calm. “This is something wrong with our whole stupid school.”

“Then get busy,” Garvey said.

“Doing what?”

“That’s something you need to figure out for yourself.”

“You’re a big help,” Cole snapped, slamming down the phone.

Frustrated, he walked back to the school grounds. Most of the students had left, but a few remained near a memorial that had been set up on the front lawn for the dead girl, Trish Edwards. Cole walked around the football field and gathered a handful of wildflowers. He placed them beside her picture with a note that said simply,
Nobody can pick on you now.
He signed his name, tears welling in his eyes.

The principal was heading to her car. She noticed Cole and walked over to him. “I’m sorry for what has happened to Peter and to Trish. Did you know her?”

Cole nodded. “A little. I knew something like this would happen if you didn’t do something!”

Ms. Kennedy pressed a fist against her lips and blinked back tears. “I can’t bring Trish back but I
am
doing something.” Her voice shook as she continued. “I was so worried about my job, about pleasing parents, teachers, the superintendent, and school board members. All along, I should have been most concerned about the students.”

“What
are
you doing?”

“You’ll see tomorrow.”

Cole watched the principal walk away. She looked tired, but she walked in a determined way that Cole had not noticed before.

The next morning, an assembly was called for the first period. Cole knew something was up—metal detectors, manned by police officers, had been installed inside both entrances.

On his way to the gym, Cole spotted Peter, who kept glancing around fearfully as he walked. His face was still swollen and bruised. Cole ran up to him. “Are you okay?” he asked, surprised to see Peter back in school.

“No,” Peter said without looking up. “I want to go back to the island where nobody can ever pick on me again.”

“I want that myself,” Cole said. They entered the gym to find half a dozen police officers patrolling the bleachers. Teachers who usually ignored all the shouting, shoving, and hitting were warning students who acted up.

“What is this? A drug bust?” one student shouted.

Ms. Kennedy stepped up to the microphone. At first she made no effort to quiet the students. She just stood and watched the chaos. Finally she tapped on the microphone and called out, “Okay, listen up everyone!”

“Shut up, you old witch!” a boy behind Cole shouted.

There was scattered laughter.

A teacher motioned for the student to come down from the bleachers.

“Go screw yourself!” the boy shouted, loudly enough to be heard across the gym.

Immediately a police officer came over, reaching for his handcuffs. “Come down now or you’ll be arrested!” he shouted.

Surprised, the boy came down. He flashed a peace sign and grinned as he was led from the gym to prove he wasn’t afraid. Cole guessed he was probably wetting his pants.

“Okay,” Ms. Kennedy said, “who else would like to leave at this time?”

An uneasy hush fell over the gym. The principal continued. “This week, we had a suicide, an assault on a student, and major vandalism.” Ms. Kennedy stopped and pointed at a girl who was grabbing another student’s hair. An officer stepped in and led the girl away.

“What you just witnessed was assault,” said the principal. “And that girl will be charged. If you shoved, kicked, or slapped a stranger downtown, you would be guilty of assault. The law does not change just because you are in a school.

“I don’t want to hear anyone say ‘I only teased someone a little bit.’ If you stab somebody a little or a lot, either way, you’ve stabbed him.” She let the words sink in and then continued. “The biggest lie ever told to you is that sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never harm you. This week, words killed one of your classmates.

“Words can be weapons, and beginning today, no student will speak to or touch any other student in a way that demeans, threatens, hurts, or causes even the slightest fear or intimidation. If you do, you’re guilty of assault. As of today, this school has zero tolerance. And zero
means
zero!”

“Hey, Hitler, what happened to free speech?” yelled a student from the middle of the bleachers.

As he was led away, the principal held up her hand. “Let’s talk about free speech. The Constitution of America, contrary to your belief, does not permit hate speech. Free speech is the freedom of
responsible
speech.”

Cole looked across the bleachers. Most kids were listening, but a few continued to yawn, talk, or harass others.

The principal studied the students. “You are probably wondering about the police officers. They are here to remind each of you that no one is above the law. Each day, if your behavior improves, there will be fewer officers. My hope is that your maturity and responsibility will allow them to leave soon.

“Also, as of now, this school has a dress code—the guidelines are now posted in the halls. Using gestures, colors, or symbols to intimidate others will no longer be allowed. Tomorrow, no student will be permitted in the school if he or she is not following those rules.

“Students, an education is money in your pockets. You let somebody rob you of that, you are letting them steal money from you. Now, unless there are questions, the gym will be dismissed one section at a time beginning on the east side. There will be no standing until your section is called. Anyone who shouts will be detained.”

The principal removed her glasses in thought, and then stepped back to the microphone. “Students,” she said, “hiring more police officers or passing more rules isn’t a solution for what happened here. I challenge each of you to ask yourself what you personally might have done to contribute to this week’s senseless tragedies. How could you have helped prevent them? Each of us carries blame, including me. Nothing will ever change unless
we
change.”

All of this was too little, too late, Cole thought as he left the gym. Nobody would look in a mirror. Nothing would change. What had the teachers done
before
all this stuff happened? What had
anybody
done?

Chapter 10

C
OLE WASN’T ABLE
to talk with Peter during the day, but after school he caught up to his friend and gave him a big hug. “Who hurt you?” he asked.

Peter shook his head. “It doesn’t m-m-matter.”

“You and I need to have a talk,” Cole said.

Peter shrugged as they headed away from the school grounds. For several long minutes neither of them spoke. Peter kept his head down and finally he muttered, “I did like you did. Every time I was picked on, I told the bullies I’d report whoever touched me. It worked until I w-w-went into the bathroom and somebody shut off the lights. Then a bunch of guys started hitting me and kicking me.”

“Was it Keith and his friends?”

“It was dark and they never said anything when they were beating me up,” Peter said. “I’d be really pissed if Keith was one of them after you helped him.”

“Me, too,” Cole agreed. “Are you okay now?”

“No, I’m not okay.” Peter broke into tears. “I’m scared. Everything’s messed up—I keep having nightmares and I can’t think straight. My parents always argue over me, and I don’t think people will ever quit picking on me.”

Cole kicked angrily at a pinecone on the sidewalk. “I wish the whole school could be part of a Circle.”

“They should line everybody up around the football field and make them hold hands,” Peter said.

Cole stopped walking and stared at his friend.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked.

“Why
couldn’t
the whole school gather around the football field?” Cole said. “Instead of a feather, we could pass a bullhorn because that’s the only way everybody could hear.”

“It wouldn’t work ’cause most kids won’t hold hands with anybody.”

Cole thought a moment. “Some kids would think standing in a Circle was dumb. But they wouldn’t have to join the Circle if they didn’t want to.”

“They could go sit in study hall instead,” Peter said, looking up. “Do you really think it would work?”

“We’ll never know unless we try. Tomorrow morning, let’s meet early at school and talk to Ms. Kennedy.”

“You t-t-tell her the idea?” Peter said. “I’m not so good at talking.”

“I will,” Cole said.

Peter looked at his watch. “Oh, c-c-crap, I gotta go. My parents are probably freaking ’cause I’m not home from school yet.”

“Will they be mad at you?” Cole asked.

Peter smiled. “I’ll just tell them you beat me up.”

“Not funny,” Cole said.

As planned, Cole and Peter met at the school half an hour early the next morning and went directly to the principal’s office. “Can I help you?” she asked, her voice sounding tired and a little short.

“We have an idea,” Cole said.

“I’m kind of busy this morning.”

“So are we,” Cole said. “This can’t wait.”

The principal motioned them briskly into her office. “How are you doing, Peter?”

“Things are all messed up,” Peter said, sitting down.

She looked at Cole. “So what’s so important?”

Cole didn’t know where to begin so he just started talking, explaining their idea for a schoolwide Circle.

Ms. Kennedy listened, then studied both boys intently. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just get everybody together in the gym and do the same thing? It would be—”

Peter interrupted. “People in a Circle have to look at each other.”

Cole nodded. “Peter’s right. Everybody feels like they’re a part of a Circle—they’re not just sitting behind somebody else in an audience.”

Ms. Kennedy shook her head slowly. “I can’t require students to attend something like that.”

“Let the r-r-rest go sit in study hall,” Peter said.

Almost pleading, Cole said, “Ms. Kennedy, you said it yourself—all your changes don’t mean anything if we don’t change ourselves inside.”

“You have this whole thing figured out, don’t you?”

“Yup,” Peter said. “We figured it out.”

Ms. Kennedy rolled a pen back and forth in her fingers the way she had toyed with the feather in the Circle. “Tell you what … let me think about your idea for a few days.”

“No,” Cole said. “This has to be done right away while everybody is still thinking about Peter getting beat up and Trish’s suicide. Garvey said that when the ground is torn up, that’s when seeds need to be planted.”

“Right now the ground is
really
messed up—it would work!” Peter exclaimed.

“I’ll give your idea some thought, that’s all I can promise,” Ms. Kennedy answered. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a school to run.”

The announcement by Ms. Kennedy came over the loudspeakers the following morning before the end of first period.

“Since our last assembly, some of you have come to me asking what you can do. Well, today each of you will have the chance to share your ideas. At nine o’clock, all teachers will bring their students out to the football field. We’ll gather around the track in a big circle and talk. Any student not wanting to participate can report to study hall in the cafeteria.”

Cole almost shouted with excitement.

* * *

Anticipation hung in the air as the students filed from the school, curious about why they were gathering around the football field instead of in the gym. Cole searched the crowd for Peter but couldn’t find him.

Ms. Kennedy waited on the field inside the track, holding a bullhorn. “Everybody line up around the track in a single line,” she directed. “Make a complete circle.”

With the usual confusion that comes from asking any large group to do something simple, the students clumped in bunches. Some kids jostled to stand next to their best friend or refused to stand next to somebody they didn’t like.

“Spread out,” called Ms. Kennedy. “Form a single line around the track and face me.”

When they finally did, Ms. Kennedy began. “Okay, everybody, listen up.” The bullhorn sounded raspy, echoing across the field in the brisk morning air. “We have somebody here this morning who has agreed to come on very short notice and help you find ways to heal your school. I want to introduce Mrs. Holms, a trained mediator here in Minneapolis.”

Cole recognized Mrs. Holms, the Keeper from his Circle.

“Good morning!” she began, speaking into the bullhorn. “I’m saddened by the reasons that bring us together today, but I’m encouraged that all of you are willing to gather like this to try and find solutions.”

Cole glanced around the field, surprised to see how many had chosen to join the Circle. Kids rubbed at their arms and pushed their hands deep into their pockets to ward off the morning chill. Some were whispering and nudging each other, but most waited quietly. Keith stood between two younger students, not with his gang. He nodded to Cole.