“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?”
“I told you before, fight ’em!” Garvey said. “Just don’t use your fists.”
“I already tried sitting down and not fighting back—that didn’t work,” Cole said. “And we tried using the cell phone—Ms. Kennedy didn’t like that.”
Garvey shook his head. “There are other ways to fight.”
“Like what?” Cole asked, as he and his mother got out of the car.
“You’ll figure it out,” Garvey said. He waved good-bye and backed out of the driveway.
“That man can be such a jerk,” Cole said.
Chapter 6
COLE WELCOMED THE last bell on Friday, the end of his first week back in school. On the island, time had passed with the changing of light and weather. Now it changed with a clock, a calendar, and bells that marked the painfully slow passing of each school day.
Peter met Cole on the front steps. “I’ve decided to find the homeless guy and give him back his carving,” he announced. “Want to go along?”
Cole hesitated.
“You’re scared of him, aren’t you?”
“After seeing him swinging his knife at the police, I’m not excited about going anywhere near him.”
Peter held up the unfinished bear head. “I wanted to keep this, but it’s not mine.” He held out a second carved head, the same size but not as lifelike. “I carved this to give him.”
“Why?”
Peter shrugged. “To show him we’re okay. W-w-we scare him as much as he scares us.”
“I’ll help you look, but what if he’s dangerous?”
“And what if you’re still dangerous?” Peter asked.
After wandering the streets for almos
t an hour, Cole suggested, “Maybe we can go to the abandoned building and leave the carving in his cart.”
“Okay, but let’s stop by my house and get flashlights. I want to check out the basement,” Peter said.
“You want to get us killed?”
Peter grinned.
Half an hour later, Cole and Peter slipped quietly past the broken doors into the abandoned building. They found the cart of junk had disappeared from under the stairwell. Quietly they tiptoed to the head of the stairs that led down into the darkened basement.
“Hello!” Peter called out hesitantly.
“Anybody down there?” Cole hollered.
Hearing no sound, they snapped on their flashlights and started down the steps. A moldy odor filled the air.
“It’s probably rotting bodies,” Peter whispered.
Cole gave Peter a poke. “Knock it off—you’re giving me the creeps.” He shined his light slowly in a circle. The large room was nearly thirty feet across with cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. An old mattress had been placed in one corner. It was covered neatly with a ragged blanket. A big cardboard box served as a table.
Suddenly footsteps sounded on the floor overhead. Both boys snapped off their flashlights and held their breaths.
The footsteps stopped.
“Let’s get out of here,” Cole whispered, bounding up the stairs. Peter followed on his heels. Emerging at the top of the steps, they stopped cold in their tracks. Barely twenty feet away, the old homeless man stood, crouched as if he were warding off an attack. A deep growl sounded in his throat.
“We’re just here to bring this b-b-back,” Peter stammered, holding out the bear carving. He bent down and placed the carving on the floor. “W-w-we found it the day the police arrested you.” His voice shook as he laid his own carving beside the first. “That’s f-f-for you, too.”
Not waiting for a reply, Cole and Peter backed between the broken front doors, then turned and ran, bumping into each other as they escaped. Not until they were well away from the building did they stop to look back. The old man was standing in the doorway watching them with curious eyes.
“That’s how the Spirit Bear used to watch us,” Peter said. Then he turned and kept running.
Saturday morning, Cole helped his mother carry in potted plants she’d bought at the nursery. Then he headed to the mall to see if Peter was around. It didn’t matter what Peter’s parents agreed to in the Circle, they still didn’t want Peter near him.
Cole decided to enjoy the warm fall day while he waited for Peter. He sat on the grass near the main entrance, listening to the hectic sounds of the city: horns, car engines, sirens, and kids shouting. While he waited, he closed his eyes and relaxed.
A breeze carried mist from a nearby sprinkler onto his face, and Cole imagined a waterfall crashing over rocks into a deep, cold pool. Other sounds gradually melted together and softened. Cole breathed in deeply, enjoying the pungent smell of fresh-cut grass.
He and Peter had become invisible on the island when they learned to be quiet and blend in with all that surrounded them. The wind, the rain, all living things were part of something bigger, part of the Circle. Sitting on the grass, Cole felt important for being a part of something that was so big and so wonderful. At the same time he felt insignificant, smaller than a speck of dust in the universe.
Cole heard a mother drag a screaming child from the mall and imagined a screaming osprey diving on a fish. The honking of a horn became the hooting of an owl on a dark night. Every sound and sensation around Cole became something natural, gradually melting into something bigger. Before long he was in another world, floating farther and farther away, out into space among the stars with no limitations, no boundaries, and no problems. With each breath, his body dissolved more, finally becoming a part of everything around him. Invisible.
It seemed only minutes before Cole opened his eyes, but a clock above the mall entrance showed that over an hour had passed. A squirrel sat motionless barely two feet away, holding a nut between its front paws and staring at him. Cole sensed another presence. Slowly he looked around. Gone were the waterfalls and osprey. Once again the sounds of honking horns, screaming children, and busy shoppers bombarded the air. Cars maneuvered around one another in the busy parking lot.
And then Cole spotted him.
The homeless man stood across the parking lot near the gas station, his hands resting on his shopping cart of junk. He stared at Cole with calm, penetrating eyes. Cole stared back for a moment and then lowered his gaze. When he glanced up seconds later, the man had disappeared—simply vanished. For several long minutes, Cole searched but saw nothing. Finally he lay back on the grass.
The old man puzzled him, but other things began making sense. Garvey had said that the pond, the ancestor rocks, and the dances were all simple tools. He said that being a part of the Circle was easy because it meant going to a place you were already at.
And that was what had happened today. Today there had been no ritual, no tricks, no tools. Just quietness. That was all Cole had needed. Feeling calm inside for the first time in days, he stood and started for home. He couldn’t wait to tell Peter about this afternoon.
He had only walked a block from the mall when he spotted Keith and his gang coming down the street toward him. Keith walked boldly in front of the rest, a wicked grin on his lips.
At first Cole thought to turn and run, but running would simply delay the inevitable. In a way, not having Peter around made this a good time for a showdown. But how would he fight Keith? He hugged his injured arm close to his bruised ribs and kept walking.
Keith angled across the street, looking unsure because Cole wasn’t avoiding him. “Hey, psycho,” he shouted. “You’re going to get your butt kicked!”
Cole still didn’t know what he was going to do. His mind scrambled as the bullies approached. Garvey had said there were ways to fight without fists.
“You’re history, bush boy,” Keith said. “Where’s your retard friend?”
Cole breathed deeply and for a moment quit trying to think. Instead, he just stared at the boys with a strange sense of calm. And that was when it came to him. He spoke deliberately to Keith. “Before you touch me, you have three choices.”
“And what’s that, bear bait?” mocked Keith. “To kick your butt left, right, or straight ahead?”
The group laughed loudly.
“So what are my choices?” Keith asked sarcastically.
“I’m not going to fight you, so you can either leave me alone—”
“No chance of that,” taunted Keith. “Try again.”
Cole continued calmly, “Or beat me up.”
“That’s a good plan,” Keith said. “I like that one.”
Cole nodded. “Of course, if you choose that one, I will file charges.”
“You squeal on us, we’ll kill you!” Keith said. “What’s my third choice?”
“You just said it—kill me.” Cole met Keith’s stare with his own. “Those are your only choices today. Either leave me alone, beat me up and I file charges, or …” Cole paused for effect. “Or kill me.”
Keith’s laugh sounded weaker.
“I’m serious,” Cole said. “So what’s it going to be? I’m not afraid of you.”
“You think we’re afraid of you reporting us?” Keith said.
“Yes, you’re scared stiff. And if you do kill me, one of you will rat out the rest and you will all spend the rest of your lives behind bars. It won’t be with other cheap punks. It’ll be with real killers and rapists. So what are you going to do?”
“You sure talk tough,” said Keith, punching Cole hard in the gut. “I’m tired of your talk, motor mouth.”
“Now I’m filing charges against you,” Cole gasped, and then turned to the others. “Who else wants charges filed?”
“Oh, we’re really afraid of you,” Keith taunted, giving Cole a hard shove that sent him stumbling backward. Keith looked back at his friends. “What’s wrong?
You guys afraid of this loser?”
“You’ve already dug your grave,” Cole told Keith. “Maybe your friends aren’t as stupid.”
“You’re pissing me off,” Keith shot back. “We’re not afraid of you!” He swung hard at Cole and knocked him to the ground.
Cole sat up slowly, rubbing blood from his nose and mouth. “You should be afraid,” he said calmly.
Keith looked back at his friends. “Are you losers going to just stand there staring?” he shouted.
“I’m not getting in trouble with the police,” Eddy said. “My dad will kill me.”
“Me, either,” announced Alex.
Keith’s four friends backed slowly away from Cole. “Just leave him be,” one said. “He’s crazy.”
Keith gave Cole an angry kick in the chest. “Chicken turds!”
Cole spit blood on the sidewalk and rubbed his ribs. “You might as well kill me now,” he said. “I’m going straight to the police department. This is assault.”
Keith looked uncertain, glancing up the street as if watching for the police. “Hey, look, can’t you take a joke?” he said suddenly.
Cole stood and pointed at the sidewalk. “If this blood is a joke, I’m not laughing. Unless you plan to kill me, I’m headed to the police station.” Cole turned and started walking.
“You squealer! You rat!” Keith shouted after him. “I’ll tell everyone at school you ratted on me!”
Cole kept walking.
Cole’s mother gasped, holding her hand over her mouth when he entered the house with a bloody face and torn clothes. “What happened?” she cried.
Cole told how he’d been beaten up by Keith. “I’m filing charges,” he announced. “Will you go with me?”
“Okay,” she said, grabbing a wet washcloth. “But let’s wipe that blood off your face first.”
Cole pushed her hand away. “I want the police to see what Keith did.”
When they arrived at the police station, Cole’s mother helped to file the report and press charges. The officer on duty took pictures of Cole’s face and chest.