“Right,” she’d said. “If you don’t feed it.”
Last week, at times, it had shrunk. Yesterday it had grown. Now it was a bit bigger, the whispers getting louder.
“What do you have to do?” he’d asked.
It was exactly what he’d done at the memorial, when he didn’t feel like he had the strength to even stand. He had to get up and let all those people honour him, like they’d planned to do. He reached under the bench and pulled out the new shoes they bought him. He nodded to himself.
“Okay,” he said. “Okay, fine. You win.”
Cole put the shoes on the bench beside Brady’s gym clothes, and gave the floor one last look. He stopped at four hundred eighteen speckles and three constellations. The last one, speckles in the shape of a moose’s asshole, he dubbed “Chochinov Minor.” He’d managed to laugh at that, easing his anxiety momentarily. Cole added that to the list his therapist had given him. Diet, exercise, etc., etc., and humour. He stood up with a deep breath, walked across the change room, and opened the door.
Considering the high school had a relatively small student body, the gym looked packed. At least, it did to Cole. As soon as he opened the door from the change room, he could see an ocean of faces. Most of them were looking right at him. At least most of the faces were friendly. Only Michael, sitting beside Eva and Brady, didn’t look friendly. By contrast, Eva smiled when she saw Cole. A let’s-put-shit-behind-us smile. Hesitant. Hopeful. Brady waved Cole over and pointed to an empty seat he’d saved for him.
“Hey, Harper.”
Pam had an empty seat beside her as well, right at the front of the gym. Presumably, this, too, was for him. The Guest of Honour. He looked towards his friends, smiled at them apologetically, and walked over to Pam. There was no way he was going to make things worse by sitting near Eva when Michael was right there. He’d already gone out with her into the woods last night without him.
“Thanks for coming out,” Pam said when he sat down beside her.
“I wouldn’t want to make you look bad,” Cole said.
He glimpsed at her clipboard, the one she’d had earlier in the morning. He could see an agenda clipped onto it with speaking notes.
“So you were setting up the assembly, now it looks like you’re emceeing it…what else do you do?”
“I get bored,” Pam said. “I need to do stuff.”
“Like?”
“Like, I don’t know, do some IT stuff. You know, computers.”
“I’ve heard of them, yeah.” Cole turned towards her. He touched his knee against her thigh by accident, and moved it away. “So—what about computers?”
“Nerdy stuff. Typical IT nerd activities. I never see the sun, and when I’m not helping kids with panic attacks I’m playing Fornite.”
Cole laughed. Pam kept a straight face.
“Seriously,” Cole said.
Pam shrugged. “Just keep the website up to date, not that anybody goes on it. You can’t even get internet if you’re, like, one hundred yards away from the centre of Wounded Sky. Troubleshoot when staff’s got email problems. So, that’s, abooouuut…every minute.”
“Cool.”
“Yeah. So, for this, I’m just calling up Anna, then Reynold, then somebody from Mihko.”
“Anna? Anna Crate?”
“Yep. I wasn’t going to at first, because I hate McCabe, but when I pictured how mad he might be after what happened yesterday, I totally couldn’t resist.”
“What happened yesterday?”
“Harper, you have to get on our group text.” Pam held out her phone and shook it in the air. “If you’re staying, you just have to. It’s like the Wounded Sky First Nation play-by-play.”
Cole just sat there with a dumb look on his face.
“Right, so, get this: Anna announced that she was running in Chief Crate’s place.” Pam clapped her hands once, delighted at the trouble this was going to cause.
“Really?”
“Check it out.” Pam pointed at the front of the gym, where, standing beside some teachers and the principal, sure enough, was Anna Crate. “And it didn’t even matter that you were late showing up, because Reynold’s not even here yet. He’s probably so pissed.” Pam sported a huge smile.
“When’s the election again?” Cole asked.
“Sunday,” Pam said, “and I think Reynold is royally screwed. I mean, some people are going to vote for him, of course, but everybody who was going to vote for Chief Crate is going to vote for Anna. Everybody.”
“And I thought presidential elections were dramatic.”
“Well, McCabe’s also not a guy you want with the nuclear codes, I’ll tell you that.”
Cole sized up Anna while he, and the entire crowd of kids, waited. She looked as likeable as Chief Crate: kind, approachable, a person you could sit down and talk with about anything. Case in point: Choch was standing with her, talking her up, having the absolute time of his life. Cole wondered what they were talking about. Normally, he’d be able to hear from that far away, but the drone of restless students keeping themselves entertained prevented him from eavesdropping. It was either that, or Choch was shutting him out.
A moment later, Reynold walked into the gym with Lucy at his side. He gave Lucy a kiss on the cheek, which she begrudgingly accepted. She nodded at Cole on her way to the crowd. Reynold stood there until Lucy had taken her seat, assessing the room, and then walked across the front of the stage, chest puffed out and chin up, trying to look as confident as possible.
“Well, I’m up,” Pam said.
“Good luck,” Cole said.
She got up, clipboard in hand, walked to the front of the stage, and tapped the microphone a couple of times to make sure it was on. The loud knocking sound that echoed through the gymnasium speakers served to quiet down the assembly, which was in a buzz since Reynold’s arrival.
“Morning, Wounded Sky-ians!” Pam kept a straight face the entire time. “You know, I was going to start off by asking if you’d heard any big news lately, but that would’ve been way too obvious for an icebreaker.”
The crowd was silent for a moment. Then, as though one student was gauging from another what they could, or should, find amusing, the odd laugh and clap sprinkled through the gym. Pam carried on, undeterred.
“Totally unrelated, not sure if any of you have heard this, but there’s an election this Sunday that actually means something now.”
No laughs, but rather a large round of applause. Chants of “Ah-na! Ah-na!” broke out.
“But I digress,” Pam said. “We’re here this morning to honour Cole Harper…”
Even bigger applause than for Anna Crate? Cole blushed with disbelief. He tried to keep looking forward, and not at all the students cheering for him.
“…yeah,” Pam said, responding to the applause. “Once again, Harper has saved lives in our community, so…”
“We love you, Cole!” a voice blurted out from the crowd.
“…we just wanted to be as fickle as possible and tell him we love him, even though a week and a half ago most of us wanted to kick him out of our community.”
No applause. More like murmurs that Choch might’ve described as, “WTF, as the kids say nowadays.” Cole looked over to see Choch’s reaction, because he was sure that the spirit being would love this, but Choch was nowhere to be found.
“We are so much like sports fans here it is totally crazy.” Pam, for the first time, held up her clipboard and looked at her notes. It was either that, or she was looking at her schedule to see if she could fit detention in between her IT work, event planning, emceeing, and canteen shifts at the X. “With that, I’d like to call up Anna Crate.”
Anna came up to the mic and gave Pam a hug. The crowd roared. Cole cheered, too. She stood at the mic for an eternity, looking at once humble and appreciative, until the applause died.
“Tansi. Kininaskomitin for the warm welcome, but this morning is not about me.” Anna looked at Cole. “This morning is about Co
le Harper. I know my husband would’ve been so proud of you, for what you’ve done for Wounded Sky once again, Cole. I am honoured to give you my thanks on behalf of Chief Crate, and I want you to know that you are welcome here for—”
“But Mihko isn’t!” a kid shouted from the crowd.
“Now, now,” Anna said in response, “I know we all have questions, and those questions are valid. There will be a time for those questions to be answered. But this morning is not that time. They have done a good thing for Cole, and I appreciate their gesture, as we all should. Cole, what I want to say is simply this: welcome home. Ekosi.”
Anna left the stage to give Cole a hug, and say another thanks to him over the crowd, which was at its loudest during their brief embrace. This sat in stark contrast to the subdued applause that accompanied Reynold to the stage after Pam had provided him with a succinct welcome devoid of any irreverent humour.
Cole expected Reynold to look like a tea kettle. A Looney Tunes-level tea kettle. Whistling. Boiling over. An unmistakable shade of red. But he didn’t. He looked calm, straddling the delicate line between confident and cocky.
“Good morning. It is an honour to be here with you. Thank you to Mrs. Crate for her warm words, and, most importantly, to Mihko Laboratories for their very generous donation to not only Cole Harper, but to Wounded Sky High School itself. I have never seen the gym look like this, I can tell you that. I, for one, welcome them here with open arms, just as I do you, Cole.”
“Yeah because they’re paying you a ton of cash!” a student called out.
“They are infusing our entire community, our businesses, with much-needed revenue. And let’s not forget that they are here to help. They came here during an intense time of need.”
“Still late to the party!”
“The flu was already cured!”
Reynold continued on as though he couldn’t hear the catcalls. “They’ll help us figure out exactly what happened. Now. If I may continue with Wounded Sky’s very own hero.” Reynold looked directly at Cole. “As much as I know he hates hearing it. He’s a humble young man, and we should be very proud to have him as one of us, whether he is here physically, or not…”
“A hero you arrested, McCabe!” a voice called out from the back.
“Cole…” Reynold took the mic off the stand and walked over to Cole so he was standing over him, looking down at him, “the gift you’ve been given is on behalf of all of us. Ekosani.”
“Ekosani,” Cole said to Reynold.
Pam went to take the mic from Reynold, but he ignored her and walked back onto the stage. “If I may, I’d now like to call up Cameron Xavier, Head of Mihko Laboratories, who has taken time from the busy work he has over at the clinic to be here this morning. Cameron?”
A short, pale man came onto the stage and met Reynold at the mic. Reynold gave Cameron a big hug, and they exchanged a few words away from the mic, both wearing enormous grins. Cole strained to hear what they were saying, but the odd collection of boos and applause and chatter made it impossible. After Cameron and Reynold gave each other another man-hug, Reynold passed Cameron the mic.
“Hello, Wounded Sky High School!” Cameron said as though it was a pep rally, but when nobody responded he cleared his throat and spoke at a normal, appropriately restrained level. “On behalf of Mihko Laboratories, I would like to say how honoured we were to provide this small token of our appreciation to Cole for what he’s done for your community. Of course, we were here many years ago, and while I understand more difficulties have befallen…”
“Murders, asshat!”
“…your home,” Cameron continued, “I am glad to be back here under better circumstances, thanks to this young man we are celebrating today. Mr. Harper, I hope this small gift…”
“Why don’t you give him some of the money you’re giving Chief Reynold!”
“…helps you feel even more at home. Eko…Ekosani.”
Pam hopped up to the stage amidst dead silence and took the mic from Cameron. She hit the mic twice. “Is this thing on? Kidding. Thank you, Mr. Xavier. Eh-co-zan-nee,” she said very slowly. “Alright, the moment you’ve all been waiting for, fellow classmates. Please give a hand for Cole Harper!”
Cole had been dreading this. He tried not to turtle, to crumple to his knees and cover his head with his arms like he was in a plane going down. It wants you to crumple, so you get on that stage, Cole, he told himself. He stood up and met Pam centre stage. She handed him the microphone, and then leaned in and said, “Uh oh, you’re not looking so hot.”
“I-I’ll be okay.” He walked to the middle of the stage to chants of, “Har-per! Har-per! Har-per!” and nobody laughed when he tried more than once to place the microphone onto the stand. His hands were shaking feverishly. Just be fast, get off the stage, and don’t be an idiot. He closed his eyes and said a little prayer, then opened them.
There were SO. MANY. PEOPLE. He took one very deep breath.
“Uhhh, hey,” Cole started. “Thanks everybody. Thanks to Mihko Laboratories for the gift. Gifts. I, uhhh, I think that, y’know, playing basketball helps, I guess, feel normal. Just helps me to relax.” They don’t need your life story, Cole. “So, it really means a lot. The longer I’m here, the more it feels like home again. We always, y’know, did things to support each other. I think Brady and Eva should be up here, too. I would’ve been lost without them. Literally.” The gym was dead quiet. Cole wondered if he was sucking that badly, or if people were actually listening to what he had to say. “I just wish something like this wasn’t…I wish that…”
Oh god, don’t cry. Please, don’t cry.
“It’s okay, Cole!” Eva? Was that Eva? Even after their fight? Cole had been too busy looking down at his shoe laces, trying to will tears back into his tear ducts.
“Harper!”
“Love ya, bud!”
Cole looked up, let out a shaky breath. A tear fell. Curved down his cheek. He could feel it hang from his chin. “I just wish none of this happened. I think…I know I would’ve stayed anyway.” Cole nodded, forced a smile. “Ekosani. Really.”
The crowd erupted into applause. A few kids got up from their seats in the back row, followed by more ahead of them, and still more ahead of them, until it turned into a standing ovation. Cole waved to the side, to the front, to the other side, at nobody in particular, and awkwardly kept waving, waiting for the applause to die down. But it didn’t, not for a long time. Eventually he just walked forward a few steps and sat down at the edge of the stage. He watched, and listened, and damn-it if a smile didn’t find its way onto his face.
8
THE THING
AFTER THE APPLAUSE HAD DIED DOWN, as students left the gym, Cole sat there, still. He watched the room slowly empty, tired, as he always was when coming down from an anxiety attack. It had taken everything out of him, all his energy and strength. He managed to give a few fist-bumps to kids, a few high-fives, shake Anna Crate’s hand, and nod to Reynold, who had only nodded as well.
Cole decided to skip his next class to wander the halls again—this time, hopefully, minus the panic attack. Or maybe he’d stay here, and use the new shoes, the newly waxed floor, the replaced rim, the inflated balls. He had earned this. He sat there and waited, willing the students to move a bit quicker, and the gym to be empty. He could picture his black shoes on the bench in the change room, calling his name, their new shoe smell ready to be soiled by his smelly feet. But the beautiful moment Cole imagined was put off when Dr. Captain came up to him, navigating her way through the swarm.
“Cole, hi. Congratulations,” she said.
“Thanks,” he said. “I hope I didn’t sound like too much of an idiot.”
“You sounded fine.”
“I’ll take your word for it. I’ve already blocked it out. I was thinking more about not collapsing than what was coming out of my mouth.”
“Public speaking is hard for most people,” she assured him.
“I thought death and taxe
s were what people feared most,” he said.
“No, those are inevitabilities. That’s different from fear. Public speaking, well, people fear that more than death.”
Cole thought about that in the context of what he’d learned about death, and what happened after. Jayne. The northern lights. He had to agree with Dr. Captain. Public speaking was definitely scarier. “I guess so.”
“You’ve been through scarier things,” Dr. Captain said.
“I would rather face Scott again than speak in front of the whole school. And I literally almost died, so…”
“So there you go.”
“There you go.” Cole repeated.
Dr. Captain was beating around the bush. Cole watched Brady and Eva approach as though their ears were burning. They stopped several feet away. Eva told Brady she’d see him in class. They hugged, then Brady left. Eva stayed and waited, presumably for Dr. Captain to leave. Cole suddenly wanted Dr. Captain to get to the point.
“You should’ve asked…what was his name?” Cole asked.
“Xavier. Cameron.”
“Right. You should’ve asked Xavier to give you your job back while he was here.”
“It would be better if I had some ammunition if I did that.” She paused. “Did you find the files?”
“No, sorry. I went out to Scott’s camp last night looking—”
“Out into the woods, at night? I didn’t expect that you’d do that, Cole. People have been seeing—”
“Hey, I was more scared a few minutes ago, right? Public speaking…death…it was no sweat.”
“That’s perceived fear, Cole, not actual danger.”
“Anyway, I didn’t find them. There was nothing there.” Cole pictured the folder. He remembered pulling it out of Scott’s backpack, looking through it, and the shock of what he found inside. All the kids in his class: the ones that died in the fire, the ones that died by Scott’s hand, the ones that were under threat. The experiments that had been run on them. The big green stamp on his file. Successful. Had they all been given pills like Cole had? Had his just been different? Did the other kids’ parents administer the “vitamins?” If not, then who did? Eva hadn’t remembered vitamins. Then he thought about the flu, and Wayne telling him and Eva that patients looked sick. Why? “I’ll find them. If you can decipher what’s in them, maybe…” Cole trailed off.
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