Ghost of Spirit Bear by Ben Mikaelsen Page A

house. When there was no answer, he tried calling Garvey. As the phone rang and rang, Cole squeezed the handset harder. “C’mon! Don’t they give parole officers answering machines?” he muttered with building frustration. He was about to hang up when Garvey answered.
    “Hello?”
    “Garvey, this is Cole. Did you hear about Peter getting beat up?”
    “No, what happened?”
    Cole tried to keep his voice from shaking. “Someone turned the lights out in the bathroom and beat him up really bad.”
    “How is he now?”
    “I don’t know. Nobody answers the phone. His parents won’t let me near him. And then, last night, a girl at school committed suicide. This place is going crazy.”
    “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