Chapter 8
And What You Don’t
Dad turned into Helen’s driveway. “You won’t believe the research station, Sadie.”
On the long drive from town, over twenty or so miles of bumpy gravel roads, Dad tried to convince me not to be afraid. Still, my heart skipped every third beat. He seemed to think the more he talked, the better I’d feel. “Patch is there with her cubs and a few others,” he said.
“Not Big Murphy.”
“No. He’ll hide out until he’s healed a bit. Helen believes he can make it through this, Sades. He’s a big, strong bear.”
“How does Helen get bears to come to her cabin?” I asked.
“Feeding stations. She’s researching alternative feeding when natural food is scarce. So far she’s learned bears first eat what they find in the wild. If there isn’t enough, they eat nuts and seeds from safe places, like the research station. It’s only when both those food sources are missing that bears tear into trash or break into cabins.”
My heart stopped beating altogether.
“You okay?” Dad asked.
“Sure. No problem.” I reminded myself how beautiful Patch had been. Nothing that beautiful would attack, right? At least if I kept my distance.
“Sades, don’t worry. All you’ll see today is a bunch of bears hunkered down in feeders.”
We pulled up to a two story cabin tucked into a grove of pine trees. The yard crawled with bears. Patch stood beneath a tree, her three cubs balanced on various branches above, peeking down.
A woman bounded out the research station’s front door wearing a floppy olive hat, black tank top, and olive pants with at least twelve zippered pockets.
“This must be Sadie!”
“Hi, Helen,” Dad said. “Sadie isn’t sure whether to leave the safety of the Jeep.”
Helen laughed and came over to my door. “I just got back from walking with Humphrey.”
Helen helped me down and walked me straight past the bears, over to the wooden porch.
“Bears care about two things.” She sat and motioned to the space beside her. A huge bear lumbered across the deck toward a window box filled with seeds. “Safety and food, because they eat all their food in half the year to prepare for hibernation. Most of the time, bears ignore people. Unless, of course, we have food.”
“Dad tells me they aren’t dangerous.” I pushed my back against the wall trying to keep my eye on all the bears at once.
“Actually, I said that bears are wild animals,” Dad said. “But they prefer nuts and berries to Sadie-burgers.”
I rolled my eyes at Dad. “Not funny.”
Helen took off her hat and looked me straight in the eyes. “The bears are familiar with their surroundings, so here, even more than in the wild, they are unlikely to get spooked and react. But in general, black bears are peaceful creatures. I walk through the forest with Humphrey. And I’ve even approached bears I don’t know. But I’ve studied bears for years. I know their body language. I know when they’re anxious.”
“But you should never try that yourself,” Dad told me.
“No,” Helen agreed. “I am very, very careful when I’m out there.”
The screen door creaked and a boy about my age with deep, tan skin and a crooked half smile walked onto the deck.
“Hey there.”
“Sadie, this is Andrew,” Helen said.
Why hadn’t anyone told me Helen’s son was my age? Why didn’t he go to White Pine? If my heart raced any faster, would it explode? My thousand questions must have been all over my face, because Andrew’s half smile widened into a grin.
“Thought you’d met everyone around here? How do you like White Pine?”
Helen spoke up. “You’ll find Andrew has strong opinions about that school.”
“It was just a pudding fight,” Andrew said.
Helen shook her head. “It was three.” She looked back at me, and I could see she wasn’t upset with him. “Andrew has more of a temper than is good for him. In fact, the principal respectfully asked if he might like to be homeschooled.”
Andrew shrugged. “Works for me. Chocolate stains are hard to clean off tennis shoes.”
“Andrew, could you fill the feeders?” Helen asked. Then she turned to Dad. “Would you look over my presentation for Tuesday’s meeting at the DNR?”
Dad followed Helen inside, and Andrew took off for the garage, leaving me sitting on the bench surrounded by bears. It smelled a bit like the zoo, but also like pine and forest. The biggest bear in the yard ambled toward the deck, lazily tilting his head from side to side to keep flies from landing on his ears. His fur was thick and coarse, a deep midnight black. He might be the tiniest bit too close, too.
“That’s Yogi. He’s looking at me, not you,” Andrew said as he walked back across the yard. “Actually, he’s looking at the seed bag. Don’t worry.”
Right. Don’t worry. “How much does he weigh?”
“I don’t know. Six hundred, seven hundred pounds?”
“And I’m not supposed to worry?”
Andrew slung the bag over his shoulder and rounded the corner of the cabin. “They can smell your fear. Try to relax.”
Perfect. I was supposed to relax now? I breathed in. Breathed out. A bear crossed another’s path, and they huffed at one another. Nope. I wasn’t going to sit here alone. I edged around the cabin.
Andrew topped off one windowsill feeder and went to the next. I counted bears. One scratching his back on the tree. Yogi, stalking Andrew. The two over by the blueberry bushes who hadn’t liked one another. Patch and her three cubs. Two small bears on their hind paws eating out of wooden boxes at the edge of the lawn. And one climbing into the scale. That made eleven. Eleven bears against Andrew and me. Would we make the evening news?
“So, have they been giving you a hard time?” Andrew moved on to the next feeder, and I backed along the cabin wall, keeping as many bears in sight as I could.
“You mean at school?”
He looked at me like “Could it be anything else?” It was a friendly expression though.
“Well, Frankie …” Yogi moved closer and suddenly my throat was too dry to get another word out.
“Hey.” Andrew dropped his teasing smile. “I’m sorry. Really, there’s nothing to be scared of. I promise.”
I nodded, but still couldn’t speak. This time I wasn’t sure if my problem was Andrew or the bears.
“One more feeder and then I’ll show you the creek. Give you a break from the bears, okay?”
He filled the last feeder and threw the empty bag onto the front porch. Fortunately, the path to the creek was at the back of the cabin, away from the feeders and the bears. Unfortunately, to walk down the path, I had to turn my back on them.
“Frankie started the first food fight,” Andrew said. “We moved here when I was in third grade. Mom had been working with bears in Yosemite, but then she got a grant to study bear feeding patterns in communities where humans and bears live together. Frankie despised me the minute she met me.”
I could finally hear over the pounding in my ears. “Why does she hate everyone?”
“With Frankie, anger is a family trait. And Mom had ideas about how hunting and wildlife laws should change. People don’t like change, and no one likes new laws, particularly when they cramp their style.”
We turned a corner, and the path dead-ended at a creek.
“Have you ever played Sink the Boat?” Andrew asked.
“What’s that?”
“Get some rocks and wait here.” He crashed upstream through the bushes.
I gathered a handful of rocks, wondering what Andrew could be up to.
When he returned he held up a stick. “So I toss this in, and we throw our rocks, trying to sink it.”
“The stick’s the boat?”
“Yep,” Andrew said, his crooked smile back.
He flung the stick into the water and we hurled rocks. Even when we hit it, the stick danced away, so Andrew resorte
d to throwing handfuls of rocks, nearly tackling me any time I stole from his supply. By our third boat, we were laughing so hard we could hardly throw.
“Sadie?” Dad called.
“Down here, Dad,” I answered.
Andrew and I each threw a final rock and then raced back up to the cabin. He stopped me before we got to the yard.
“Probably best not to run around the bears.”
“Right.” The game and the laughing had calmed me down. My heart didn’t race as I walked past the bears who ate, nuzzling furry snouts into their feeders. They were beautiful, truly. How could Frankie call them rats? I stopped, not too close, but close enough to examine the nearest bear’s snout. What shape was it? Triangle, and square on the end. I pulled out my sketchbook as soon as I buckled myself into the Jeep.
“Next time I will sink the boat!” I called to Andrew as we pulled away.
Chapter 9
Jagged Edges
Mom and I got to the meeting late. People already filled the long benches facing the presentation area of the ranger station, but Ruth and her dad saved Mom and I folding chairs at the back of the room. Ruth’s mom must be home with the twins. I tried not to look at glass cases that lined the walls, filled with stuffed beavers, raccoons, and rabbits, or, worst of all, the moose head mounted on a plaque above Dad’s podium.
“Most of us love living in the wild among wild creatures,” Dad was saying. “And we also know that living side by side requires particular care.”
Ruth leaned over to whisper, “All of this, under a dead moose’s head.”
I choked back my giggle.
“We have enough laws,” Jim Paulson shouted. “If that’s what you’re getting at.” Frankie and Ty sat in his row, along with Nicole and Tess and a few assorted parents. I didn’t see Mario, Nick, or Demitri anywhere.
A ranger, who must be Meredith Taylor, stood from her front row seat. “This is a public forum, and as we mentioned from the start everyone will have a chance to speak. However, we ask that you hold your comments until the end of the presentation.”
Jim gave the man sitting next to him a look and folded his arms.
“Who’s that guy sitting next to Jim?” I asked Ruth.
“Ty’s dad, Mack.” Ruth said.
“Shhh,” a woman in front of us hissed.
Ruth made a face once the woman turned back around, and I bit my lip. So much boiled up in me, worry about bear hunting starting tomorrow, hope that this meeting would prove to the seventh grade that Frankie was wrong — my family wasn’t here to boss anyone around, happiness that Ruth was here with me, worry about Dad’s new gun and his plans to go hunting, Mom, Andrew, all of it, fizzed up and threatened to turn into uncontrollable, hysterical giggles. I forced myself to breathe.
“Thank you, Meredith.” Dad gripped the podium and continued. “We are fortunate to have Helen Baxter in our community. As a black bear researcher, she has seen many bears in many communities. Tonight, she’ll give us the facts about living with bears.”
He sat next to Meredith as Helen took the stage. No one applauded.
Instead Mack yelled, “We already know the facts. Bears are pests. Send them back to the wilderness where they belong.”
“Mack.” Meredith stood again. “Please.”
I would have been concerned about Dad, but I happened to glance over at Mom, whose face was about-to-pass-out white. It was too stuffy in here. I took her hand, whispered, “Mom, do you need to go?”
“No, I want to be here. For your dad.”
Her eyes weren’t dilated. She even managed a smile, so maybe she was all right. And even if she wasn’t, she was too stubborn to listen to me.
Ruth frowned, her silent question clear. Is your mom all right? I nodded because the real answer was much to complicated to explain.
Helen stood in front of a chart, which tracked bear feeding patterns. “Bears don’t want human contact. This year we have plenty of berries and other foliage, and I have set up alternate feeding stations at my cabin. The bears are well fed, which means they’ll avoid your cabins and stores as long as you keep trash contained in bear-proof boxes.”
“Excuse me, Meredith.” Jim Paulson walked up to the front of the room. “May I have the floor now? She’s had her say.”
Dad stood, but looked unsure of what to do.
Meredith said, “Helen wasn’t —”
But Jim didn’t wait for Meredith to finish. “I’m afraid our scientist is wrong. Just today, while I was working on my ATV, the bear that so-called scientist calls Patch attacked me.”
“Attacked you?” Helen repeated.
The room erupted into loud argument. Andrew stood up from his seat in the front row, his forehead creased with worry. Alone behind the podium, Helen faced the waves of anger flooding the room. I was relieved when Dad walked over and whispered in her ear. She nodded, left him there, and sat beside Andrew.
“Just a minute now …” Meredith joined Dad at the podium. “Jim, that’s a serious accusation. What do you mean, Patch attacked you?”
“She came right up to me. Put her nose on my hand. I shouted at her, but she didn’t back off. She stomped her paws and huffed, and if I hadn’t jumped in the ATV and driven away she would have charged me.”
“That’s not an attack,” Dad said.
“That’s a bluff charge.” I told Ruth. “Even I know that.”
Ruth took my hand in both of hers and squeezed tight.
Mack stood. “Are you kidding me? We’re lucky Jim didn’t lose his arm.”
“Patch wouldn’t hurt a flea.” An older woman stood up near the back of the room. “She nosed you because she wanted food. She does that to me all the time. I taught her the trick.”
“Are you crazy?” Mack asked.
Everyone jumped to their feet, shouting about feeding bears and not feeding bears. Jim Paulson stood inches from Helen’s face and yelled. Dad talked urgently with Meredith. Ruth and I stood, hand in hand, not knowing what to do. Next to Ruth, her dad tried to calm down the people yelling in the back row. Mom held onto her chair, the only person in the room not standing.
I let go of Ruth and took Mom’s arm. “Mom, let’s go outside for some fresh air.”
“I …” She started to argue but then let Ruth and me help her out to the car.
Mom didn’t feel up to driving home, so I helped her into the passenger seat, angled it back, and rolled down the windows. Ruth and I sat on the hood, waiting for our dads. Ruth pointed out constellations here and there, trying, I knew, to keep my mind off the disastrous meeting. In the dark of the forest, the sky teemed with stars. As I stared at the pinpricks of light, the angry noise of the crowd faded into the background. I felt tiny, even invisible. Safe.
Finally, people poured out of the building. Dad was one of the last out, along with Ruth’s dad, Meredith, Helen, and Andrew. When they saw us, they hurried over.
“What happened? I saw you leave with Mom, but with everything going on in there …”
“She’s okay. But she wants you to drive her home.”
“I’ll leave the Jeep here and get it later,” Dad said.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Ruth’s dad asked.
“No,” Dad answered. “But thank you. Thanks for helping inside too.”
I quickly introduced Ruth to Andrew and Helen and shook Meredith’s hand. Then, Ruth gave me a quick hug before she and her dad left. Mom had fallen asleep, and Dad and I didn’t talk much on the way home. But when we pulled into our driveway, I had to ask.
“Dad, what will happen to Patch?”
“She’s a research bear, radio-collared, so that might help. Tonight the hunters agreed not to shoot any radio-collared bears as long as Helen doesn’t collar more bears. But Patch might be different. Mrs. Rose, the woman who has been feeding Patch, created a big problem. Most of the time problem bears are taken out of the wild. Or worse.”
“But they wouldn’t —”
“I don’t know, Sa
des. Everyone is really worked up. We’ll have to wait and see.”
“If you reported Jim —”
“Sadie, we’ve talked about this. We don’t know the shooter was Jim.
“I know —”
“Sades.” Dad’s tone was final.
He helped Mom inside. But when I walked into my room I knew I’d never be able to sleep. Outside, the crickets chirped quietly.
“Time for reason eight, Pips.” I brought the scrapbook down to the front porch and sat on the steps.
WHY PIPPA REYNOLDS AND SADIE DOUGLAS WILL ALWAYS BE BEST FRIENDS —
REASON 8: WE ARE THE SECRET NAPKIN-NOTE FAIRIES. AND STILL NOBODY KNOWS.
She’d pasted a napkin in the center of the page. Just like all our napkin notes, she’d written a quote with a red Sharpie:
Happiness is excitement that has found a settling down place. But there is always a little corner that keeps flapping around.
— E.L. Konigsburg, From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler.
Next to the napkin was a picture of Pips making her craziest face, with a note written beside — Just in case you need a happiness kick-start. I couldn’t help but laugh.
Pippa and I had started writing napkin notes in third grade, using quotes from our favorite books and authors. We wrote in plain block capital letters so our handwriting wouldn’t give us away. We slipped the notes into lunch boxes and bags for birthdays, for the entire soccer team on important game days, sometimes just for no reason at all.
“If only it were that easy, Pips.”
I knew what she’d say. You will be happy, Sades. Just wait.
After all the anger and frustration of the day — the week — with Mom upstairs sick, with everyone in town angry with Dad, and Dad himself acting like a hunter, with Patch in trouble and Big Murphy shot, with the entire seventh grade hating me, and with hunting season starting tomorrow, happiness seemed far away. But deep down, I knew Pips was right. I would be excited again. I could still feel Ruth’s hug, strong and steady. I did have one new friend. Someday I’d wake up and Owl Creek would be home.
For now, I knew what to do. I found a napkin in the kitchen and went up to my bedroom. When I got online, I found a quote for Pips almost right away. I wrote with a red Sharpie:
Shades of Truth Page 4
