Ghost of Spirit Bear (11 page)

“I must say this is the largest Circle I have ever been a part of,” Mrs. Holms said. “But our size makes no difference. We will pass the bullhorn around the field and each of you will have the opportunity to voice your feelings if you wish. I ask only two things of you this morning. First, speak honestly from your heart. Second, respect whoever is speaking. If you can’t respect others, you can’t respect yourself. A school cannot heal without respect.”

Two girls near Cole giggled. One boy hid a lit cigarette.

The Keeper spoke calmly through the bullhorn. “People always fear what they don’t understand and destroy what they fear. Students, your ignorance and fear have let you focus on your differences. Prove today that you aren’t afraid. I want everybody, including teachers, to reach out and join hands. Everyone form an unbroken Circle.”

A murmur erupted around the track. Some students hesitated and tried to move quickly next to somebody else.

“Please, don’t change positions,” the Keeper said. “If students in the same school can’t even hold hands, how do you expect countries to get along? It begins here.”

When the human Circle was finally complete, the Keeper continued. “I’d like each of you to take a moment and think of something you have done in the last two weeks that showed intolerance. Some moment when you didn’t allow somebody else to be different from you.”

Everyone stood silently, some with closed eyes. In the distance, a siren wailed as the Keeper continued. “Okay, now I want each of you to think of what you could do, starting today, to encourage tolerance in your school.”

“This is ridiculous,” Cole heard one student complain. The boy left the Circle to join several others who were heading back inside.

The Keeper ignored the few who were leaving. “Okay, feel free to warm your hands in your jackets. I’m going to walk this bullhorn around the track twice. First, I want to hear your feelings about what’s happened, and why you think we have such intolerance at this school. The second time around, we’ll search for answers. But first let’s share our hurt. Remember, nobody is required to speak, but we all have the obligation to listen.”

The Keeper walked to the nearest student and offered him the bullhorn. Cole watched with anticipation, holding his breath.

The boy shook his head, embarrassed.

Chapter 11

T
HE KEEPER OFFERED
the bullhorn to nearly a dozen students. With each refusal, Cole felt a sinking feeling grow in his gut. Finally, a tall blond girl found the courage to speak.

“What happened last week is only the tip of the iceberg,” she began. “We all know the different gangs—the jocks, the cheerleaders, the nerds. Everybody belongs to some group and looks down on the others. We all share some blame for what happened.”

“I agree,” said the next girl in line. “I’ve hassled others myself and didn’t think it was any big deal. But I guess it probably hurt them plenty.”

Several more students refused to speak. The next student who accepted the bullhorn said, “Yeah, maybe a little hurt from a lot of students could cause somebody to commit suicide.”

As the Keeper circled the field, everyone reacted differently. Some wiped away tears; others stood quietly with their eyes closed. Some stared sullenly at the ground. “I don’t know what to do,” one boy admitted. “I can’t stop the bullies, drugs, and gangs. I’m afraid to even come to school some days.”

Cole looked around the big Circle, no longer seeing the smirking, elbowing, or laughing. Maybe the Circle was working.

The sun started to warm the air as the Keeper worked her way around the field. Cole chose not to speak the first time she passed. Hopefully he would have the guts to speak when she asked for solutions. An idea had been prying at him all morning.

After nearly an hour, the Keeper walked to the center of the field. “I’ve so appreciated the honesty and respect with which you’ve spoken this morning,” she said. “Now I want all of you to think of this school as something you own. Think of it as a body, and yourself as a part of it. What can you personally do now to heal your body? What changes can you each make to keep the tragedies of last week from repeating themselves?” Once again the Keeper walked around the Circle, offering the bullhorn to each student.

“We all have to let bullies know they aren’t cool,” said one girl.

“We have to quit putting each other down,” said another.

Cole remembered the next student who spoke, from having picked on him years earlier. The boy said, “Teachers have the right to teach and students have the right to learn. Nobody has the right to take away those rights. Nobody.”

One of the cheerleaders suggested, “Maybe we can have a mentoring program where kids who are flunking a subject can be helped by ones that are acing the course. We could share our strengths.”

A senior boy shouted through the bullhorn, “Our differences should be our strength, not why we fight.”

Students applauded some suggestions and murmured disagreement at others as the bullhorn circled the field. Cole noticed that Keith turned down both his chances to speak.

As the Keeper approached the second time, Cole shifted nervously. Maybe he should skip sharing his idea—everybody would probably think it was silly. Still, he found himself holding his hand out. The Keeper smiled, recognizing him as she handed him the bullhorn. It was too late to back down now.

“Most of you know who I am,” Cole began awkwardly. “I’ve done things that I will always be ashamed of at this school. I also know that some of you still hate me—I’m sorry for that. I don’t want this Circle to end today with just a bunch of talk. We need to do something big to show how serious we are about changing.”

Cole licked at his dry lips and continued. “When I was on the island in Alaska, I almost died. But a bear called a Spirit Bear came to me like a dream and taught me who I was inside. The Spirit Bear was my inner strength. I learned that if a person’s spirit dies, life isn’t worth living.” Cole drew in a quick breath. “We are the Minneapolis Central Bulldogs—that is our mascot. But if our greatest strength comes from the spirit inside each of us, why do we use a snarling dog to show our strength?

“I want to suggest that we change our mascot from a snarling bulldog to a Spirit Bear to show our commitment to changing ourselves.”

Murmurs and whispering spread around the Circle.

The Keeper took the bullhorn and said, “Students, all suggestions you offer here today will be noted down. Later,
you
will decide which changes you want for yourself or for your school. The mascot idea will be added to the list.”

Half an hour later, the Keeper ended the Circle the same way she had begun nearly two hours earlier, by asking everybody to join hands. This time, few students hesitated. Some even hugged each other.

“Thank you for showing your inner strength today,” the Keeper said. Then she added with a chuckle, “Thanks for connecting with your own Spirit Bears. I want to remind each of you as you leave this field that any words spoken today are simply wasted sounds unless you do something about them. Your real test will come after you return inside. Then we’ll see how committed you truly are to change. I’d wish you good luck but this has nothing to do with luck. This is all about choices, consequences, and commitment. I do wish each of you strength.”

Cole breathed a huge sigh of relief as the students broke from the Circle and headed back toward the school for lunch. When he glanced around for Peter, Cole saw something else instead—the old homeless man standing outside the chain-link fence at the far end of the field. Even from a distance, the familiar hunched shoulders, white blanket, and shopping cart were unmistakable. Cole wondered how long the old bum had been watching.

Back in class, most teachers skipped the day’s planned lessons and talked instead about making changes. It pleased Cole that nobody had laughed at his suggestion of changing the mascot to a Spirit Bear. Maybe students
could
imagine the possibility of changing their own destinies.

After school, Peter asked Cole, “How come you didn’t tell me about your idea of changing the mascot earlier? Aren’t we friends?”

Cole gave Peter a quick one-armed hug. “Of course we’re friends. I just wasn’t sure a Spirit Bear mascot was such a good idea. That’s why.”

“Shoot, that’s all anybody talked about in my classes the rest of the day.”

“Hey,” Cole asked, “did you see that old guy standing by the fence?”

Peter nodded. “I was down at that end. He just showed up suddenly … then he stood and stared at me. It was kinda spooky.”

Cole shrugged. “Probably curious why so many students had gathered around the football field.”

“He was shivering.”

“All he ever wears is that thin white rag of a blanket,” Cole said.

“Maybe I should give him the at.óow. That’s warmer.”

“You can’t give him the at.óow!” Cole said, thinking about the colorful blanket Garvey had given him. The at.óow had helped him to learn respect for his past before he’d given it to Peter. “Let’s go to the Salvation Army store and buy him a good warm blanket instead.”

“Is that what you would want for yourself?” Peter asked. “A used b-b-blanket from the Salvation Army?”

“Garvey gave me the at.óow as a special gift,” Cole argued. “That thing is like a family treasure.”

Peter grew quiet.

“I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. But you can’t just give the at.óow to some bum. Garvey trusted me, and that’s the same reason I gave it to you.”

Peter nodded. “The at.óow
is
special to me, and maybe I trust the old man.”

“We don’t even know him.”

“Because we haven’t
tried
to know him,” Peter said. “Besides, how well did Garvey know you? How well do you really know me?”

Cole didn’t like that they were arguing. “Maybe we could just walk down to the Salvation Army and see if they have any blankets.”

“Whatever,” Peter mumbled.

“Do you need to let your parents know?”

“Let them look for me,” Peter said, starting down the street toward the Salvation Army store a mile away.

“I’m not mad,” Cole said.

“Neither am I,” Peter said, hobbling faster.

It took almost a half hour to reach the big white building. Neither of them spoke until they pushed through the front doors. A tired-looking checkout lady directed them behind the women’s dresses to a big shelf filled with blankets.

“There, now you can have your choice,” Cole said to Peter. “I’ll split the cost of buying one and we’ll give it to the old bum as a gift from both of us.”

Silently Peter examined each blanket on the shelf. When he finished looking at the last one, Cole asked, “So what do you think?”

“I don’t like any of them,” Peter said.

“There’s about a half million of them—how can you not like any of them? We’re looking for something to keep a homeless bum warm, not something to win a contest.”

“I said I didn’t like them,” Peter snapped, heading toward the front entrance.

Cole knew not to argue the point anymore.

“Let’s go past the abandoned building,” Peter said.

“Why?”

“I want to meet the old guy.”

“No way,” Cole said. “He’s probably a drug addict or an ex-convict.”

“Like you,” Peter shot back.

Cole gave up. “Do whatever you want with the at.óow. It’s yours.”

“I know that,” Peter said.

They walked in silence until Peter stopped suddenly and pointed. Ahead of them was the homeless man struggling to push his grocery cart down the sidewalk. He had a tree stump balanced awkwardly across the top of the basket. The sides of the cart bowed under the weight. Peter angled across the street, directly toward the homeless man.

Cole followed reluctantly.

The grizzled old man didn’t notice them at first as he grunted and strained to keep the cart moving.

“What’s he doing?” Cole whispered, approaching to within twenty feet.

“Go ask him.”

“This was your idea,” Cole said.

Peter hesitated, slowing almost to a halt.

Suddenly the homeless bum stopped and turned to stare at them. Cole and Peter froze in their tracks. Cole was about to run when Peter asked, “Do you n-n-need help pushing that thing?”

The man squinted at them. His stringy combed hair hung to his shoulders. Only a knotted rope around his waist kept his pants from falling down. Slowly his gaze softened as he recognized them. Then he smiled and shook his head before turning back to his cart. Not pressing their luck, Cole and Peter headed for home.

Cole felt bad. This was the first time since being on the island that he and Peter had really argued. Before splitting up, he said, “Peter, I’m sorry for things I said today. I just thought it was kind of dumb to give the at.óow to a homeless guy.”

“Isn’t it kind of d-d-dumb trying to make friends with Keith and changing the mascot name to Spirit Bear?”

Cole grinned. “Not any dumber than thinking the whole school should meet in a Circle.”

Chapter 12