Ghost of Spirit Bear by Ben Mikaelsen Page A

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