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
C OLE 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 almost 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
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
C OLE 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 almost 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
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