The Whole, Entire, Complete Truth

by Caroline Rennie Pattison

  “Wow,” he said and whistled. “She’s always been so sweet to me.”

  I snorted.

  “I don’t need her help. I’m going to make an appointment with her dad myself but I can’t figure out which number to call.”

  I held up the phone book, and he stared at it. I hated asking for his help like that, but I was getting desperate. I had been through the government section of the phone book umpteen times and I couldn’t figure out which number to call in order to speak to a Conservation Officer. Why couldn’t they just list “Conservation Officers” in the yellow pages? That would have made my life a lot easier.

  “Did you look under Ministry of Natural Resources?” asked Roy.

  “No, I looked under hairstylists,” I retorted.

  “Do you want my help or not?”

  “Yes,” I sighed.

  Roy sat on the edge of my bed and took the proffered book. His brow furrowed as he scanned the pages. “You’re in the federal and provincial section. Let’s try looking under municipal government.” I scowled. I hated when he knew more about something than I did. But what could I say? I’d asked for his help.

  Roy continued searching through the book. Finally he looked up. “Why don’t you just try calling the municipal office in Bracebridge and whoever is there should be able to give you a number to call.”

  “Okay, what’s the number for the municipal office?” I reached for the phone lying on my bed.

  “Nobody will be there now, goof. It’s after office hours. You’ll have to phone in the morning from school.” He handed back the phone book, holding his finger on the number I wanted. I took it and wrote the number down in my notebook.

  Roy stood up.

  “Thanks.” I smiled up at him.

  He smiled back.

  It was a rare, touching moment.

  That Friday morning, I was a nervous wreck. I spilled orange juice all over the kitchen table and burned my toast while I was cleaning it up. You see, not only was it the day we were to find out who made the final cuts for the school basketball team, but Mindi and I were also scheduled to meet with Mr. Stedman at the Municipal Building in town over the lunch hour. No thanks to Cori. We scraped together every last penny we had to pay for the cab ride since there were no public buses running here in the sticks.

  Just think, when I’m a real detective, I’ll have an expense account!

  MR. STEDMAN

  DATE: FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 28

  LOCATION: SCHOOL AND THE MINISTRY OFFICES

  Between first and second periods that morning, I rushed to the crowded gym where the final basketball team list was posted. I met Mindi, Stacey, and Cori there. Cori and I exchanged a nasty look behind Mindi and Stacey’s backs. That was our usual greeting now. Neither of us mentioned to the others about our phone conversation, and it looked like it was going to be our little secret.

  I hung back and watched nervously as some girls walked away from the posting with smiles, some with tears. My heart was fluttering. How would I be walking away? Now that I had rushed there, eager to find out if I made the team, I found I didn’t have the courage to step into the crowd and actually check the list. The basketball court was the only place I really felt like I belonged so far at this school; I knew I’d die if my name wasn’t on that list.

  To make things worse, there was a crowd of boys standing around enjoying the show. Among the crowd were, of course, Roy and his friends. Roy always had to be where the action was. I quickly turned my back on them, hoping Roy hadn’t seen me, but I was too late. I was suddenly being pushed forward into the crowd by someone who had grabbed my arm from behind. Guess who?

  “Come on, Sarah, don’t be shy. Let’s see if you made the team,” announced Roy loudly. Heads turned with interest at his voice. Just like he wanted.

  “Get lost, Roy!” I hissed, trying to squirm out of his grip. “Leave me alone.”

  “Are you nervous? Do you want me to look for you?” he asked in mock concern. He let go of my arm and made a show of backing away from me with trembling legs and chattering teeth. My eyes pleaded with him to stop, but he was beyond stopping. He had his audience and he could be a real jerk.

  Roy squeezed his way through the crowd of girls, saying, “Excuse me ladies, stud coming through. Pardon me.”

  To my disgust, the girls giggled and made room for him. How sickening. I was just about to hurl when Roy’s booming voice demanded everyone’s full attention once again.

  “Well, let’s see here,” he said. I held my breath as his finger moved slowly down the list of names.

  “Well, look at that, Cori Stedman,” he announced with a wave of his hand. Cori squealed with delight. Mindi and Stacey gave her high-fives. I did my best to paste a huge smile on my face and pretend that Roy’s stupid little game didn’t bother me at all.

  Roy continued his search down the list of names. Suddenly, his hands flew to his face and he exclaimed in a really pathetic Southern accent, “Oh, I do declare! There’s Mindi Roberts.” Mindi grinned from ear to ear as she took her high-fives from us; I joined in this time. Roy was really hamming it up now; like I’ve said, he loves being the centre of attention. Right then, he was in his glory.

  “Yup, and here’s Stacey Payton,” he called out, his finger near the bottom of the list. I tried my best to keep that foolish grin on my face, but my heart felt like it was in a steel trap as I watched Roy’s finger run slowly down the rest of the list. Then his finger ran out of names. My worst fear was coming true. He turned slowly to me, looking truly sad, and shrugged.

  “Sorry, kid, not this year,” he said.

  I told myself I wasn’t surprised, that I knew I wasn’t going to make the team. I didn’t let that stupid grin waver from my face in spite of the cold steel vice that was squeezing my heart.

  “I guess I’m just going to have to practise up for next year’s tryouts,” I said, struggling to keep the tremor out of my voice. Roy stared at me. The corners of his lips began to twitch.

  “Naahhhh, I’m just kidding! There’s your name right there!” he exploded, pointing his finger to a name that was near the top of the list. He broke out into gales of laughter. “Gotcha!”

  The steel vice around my heart sprang open and I began to breathe again. I received my high-fives with enthusiasm amongst laughter and grins from the others. When Roy tried to join in, I gave him a hard shove.

  “You idiot!” I may have been laughing in front of the others, but inside, I vowed to find a way to get back at him for that humiliating scene.

  Cori, the little actress, pretended that she sympathized with me. She gave Roy a bunch of little playful shoves and said, “That was mean, Roy!” and, “You’re bad, Roy!” while her eyes twinkled with merriment. Not only was she an actress, she was a very bad one.

  Roy doubled over in laughter again. “You should have seen your face, Sarah.” He straightened himself up. “I’ll just have to practise more,” he said, his voice high-pitched, his chin and lip trembling in a really bad imitation of me, which, of course, set him off laughing like a hyena again. What a moron.

  “Yeah, great. Everyone thinks you’re Mr. Funny Man now, Roy,” I shot back.

  “Aw, I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t already know you’d made the team,” he protested. He turned to Mindi and his eyebrows arched high over a puppy-dog face. “I’m not that mean,” he said, giving his eyebrows a little wiggle. Mindi rewarded him with a giggle. I scowled.

  “C’mon, guys. Let’s blow,” he said finally, walking out of the gym. “Let’s go find somebody with a sense of humour.”

  I was glad to see his back, but I hated the look of disappointment on Mindi’s face. What did she see in that show-off, anyway? And why does he always try to ruin my life?

  * * *

  Mindi and I practically sprinted out of our second-period class. A cab was waiting for us. We had an hour before third period began after lunch. We figured it would take us at least ten minutes to get to the Ministry offices where
we had arranged to meet Mr. Stedman. We wanted to have as much time as possible with him before we had to head back to school. We arrived right on time, and I immediately told the receptionist we had an appointment. She motioned for us to sit down.

  “You do all the talking, okay?” whispered Mindi. This was at least the fourth time she’d said that to me. “Remember, we’re not going to say anything about Colin’s barn, right?”

  “Don’t worry, he’s just going to think we’re working on a school project,” I reminded her. “Besides, we don’t really know what Mr. Braemarie’s doing with those bears so we shouldn’t say anything.”

  “Right,” agreed Mindi. “We don’t want to cause him any trouble when he’s not even doing anything wrong.”

  I nodded to Mindi but wondered, What could he be doing right with a bunch of bears locked up in an old barn?

  We weren’t kept waiting long. Soon, a man about the same height as me came out to the reception area and said a friendly hello to Mindi. Mindi then introduced him to me as Mr. Stedman. What he lacked in height, he made up in muscle. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to reveal some bulging biceps. He shook our hands then led us to his small office.

  “So, I didn’t realize that you’d be coming along with Sarah, Mindi. Nice to see you again,” said Mr. Stedman.

  Mindi smiled. “I just thought I’d tag along to keep Sarah company.”

  “Ah, you’re being a good friend,” he said, nodding.

  Mr. Stedman was in uniform. Khaki pants with a matching shirt, plenty of pockets. He wore a patch on his left sleeve indicating his station. His wide-brimmed hat was sitting on the corner of his desk. A worn leather briefcase on the floor leaned against the desk, unable to stand on its own anymore.

  “Have a seat, ladies,” he said, taking his place behind the desk. “I have to tell you, I don’t get a chance to meet with young people very often. Not because I don’t want to, I just don’t get asked to. I think it’s terrific that you want to know more about wildlife here in Muskoka. It’s for a school project, did you say?”

  “Yes, it is,” I began. “Maybe Cori mentioned something about it to you?”

  He looked puzzled. “No, she hasn’t mentioned anything.”

  I shrugged and exchanged a look with Mindi, as if to say, See? What did I tell you about that girl?

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Mindi. “We just wondered if she said something, since you’re a Conservation Officer and the project is about wildlife.”

  “Yes, and I already did some research, Mr. Stedman,” I added, “on the Internet, but I couldn’t find any local information for my project.”

  “Okay,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Is there a specific kind of wildlife you’re focusing on?”

  Mindi looked at me. I cleared my throat.

  “Well, we’re mainly focusing on bears,” I began.

  “Bears. Okay then, I can give you information about the prevalence of black bears in North America, their appearance, breeding habits, their young, enemies ... whatever you want to know. I have some pamphlets here that are quite good ...” Mr. Stedman turned and rummaged through some piles of papers on the ledge behind him. He swung back holding out two pamphlets about black bears. I took them with a thank you.

  He then proceeded to tell us all he knew about bears. And believe me, he knew a lot. At first I was very interested, and dutifully took notes, but as time went on and he was still talking, I had to fake my interest. Then I couldn’t even do that anymore. It was just too boring. I started fidgeting in my seat and glancing at my watch. How did I lose control of this interview? We’d have to leave soon in order to get back to school in time for third period. I kept waiting for a break in his incredibly long monologue so I could jump in and get to the real reason we were there; I thought it would be rude to interrupt him. Finally he took a breath.

  “How much of a problem is poaching here in Muskoka?” I asked quickly, before he could start talking again.

  “Poaching?” Mr. Stedman frowned. “Ugly subject. You don’t really want to get into that, do you?”

  I smiled at him. “I came across some information on the Internet about the demand for bear parts and how much of a growing problem bear poaching is becoming in Canada. So I want to include that information in my project. How much poaching goes on around here, Mr. Stedman?” I asked.

  He gave a harsh laugh and clasped his hands on the table. “Oh, there’s the odd guy who shoots a bear or two out of season because the bear’s become a nuisance. You know, the usual, hanging around, getting into the garbage and so on.” Mr. Stedman’s clasped hands whitened at the knuckles as he spoke. “No, Muskoka’s pretty tame when it comes to big business poaching of the kind you would have read about on the Internet.”

  “But, Mr. Stedman, I read that most poaching happens where the bear population is the highest and the human population is low. Wouldn’t that describe Muskoka?” I asked.

  He laughed. “We’re not that desolate out here.”

  “What happens to people who are caught poaching bears?” asked Mindi, breaking her own rule about me doing all the talking.

  “Well, now. That would be up to the court system. It’s against the law to possess, for instance, a black bear gall, under Section 50 of the Ontario Fish and Wildlife Conservation Act. And it is also against the law to export bear parts under the Wild Animal and Plant Protection and Regulation of International and Interprovincial Trade Act. Also, bears are protected by the Convention on the International Trade of Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora. Usually, someone caught poaching and breaking those laws would be given a pretty hefty fine, possibly even some jail time.”

  “What about people who keep bears as pets?” Mindi asked. “Is that allowed?”

  He frowned. “I don’t know of anybody who’d want to keep a bear for a pet. They’re wild animals.” He paused, then said, “There are restrictions in place for any exotic pets. Are you talking about someone you know?”

  “No,” Mindi said quickly, her face reddening slightly. “Just wondering if that ever happened.”

  Mr. Stedman leaned forward and frowned. “Look, if I were you, Sarah, I would leave out the section about bear poaching in your school project. It can be a nasty, dangerous business and no one really wants to hear about that. Besides, you don’t want to have to read about all the terrible things people do to bears. You’ll have plenty to say without getting into poaching — that’s a whole topic in itself.”

  He stood up, scraping his chair back behind him. “Now, I believe you two need to get back to school. I have a meeting over that way. Why don’t I drive you back?”

  We accepted his ride — good thing he offered, we would have been late otherwise. He chatted about school with us and told us to say hi to Cori for him. There was no more mention of bears — or poaching.

  “Thank you for meeting with us, Mr. Stedman,” I said, as we got out of his Jeep in front of the school.

  “Yes,” added Mindi, “you’ve been very helpful.”

  He nodded. “I hope so,” he said. “Those pamphlets I gave you will help. There are links to some websites listed in them in case you need more information.”

  We thanked him again before he drove off.

  “So much for letting me do all the talking,” I said with a smirk as we walked towards the school entrance.

  Mindi shrugged. “I had to ask.”

  “I wish we’d had a chance to ask him more questions. Why didn’t you warn me that he was such a talker? I couldn’t get a word in, then by the time he finally stopped talking long enough for me to ask him a question, it was just about time to leave,” I complained. “What a waste of time! We’re no further ahead than we were this morning.”

  Mindi sighed. “We did find out that poaching isn’t a big problem here in Muskoka. That was something.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. Why did he have to blab on so much about stuff we didn’t need to know?” I moaned.

  “Was that my dad’s
car?” asked a shrill voice.

  Mindi and I stopped short. Cori was sitting on the stairs at the front of the school with Stacey, staring right at us, her face wearing the scowl she usually reserved for me. She stood up and walked towards us.

  “Did you two just get out of my dad’s car?” she asked in disbelief. Mindi opened her mouth and shut it again.

  “Yes. He dropped us off after we went to interview him,” I answered, boldly.

  Cori’s face reddened. She looked at Mindi. “Why is Sarah’s project so important that you had to go with her and miss having lunch with us?” she asked. “You, me, and Stacey have had lunch together every day at school since grade four.”

  “Cori, I ...” Mindi began. “I had to go with her, that’s all. I’ll have lunch with you tomorrow. What’s the big deal?”

  Cori looked at her. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  Mindi made a face. “What are you talking about? We talked to your dad about Sarah’s project. If you had brought Sarah a book or two like you said you were going to, we wouldn’t have had to go see him ourselves. Look!” She snatched the notebook out of my hands and pulled out the pamphlets Mr. Stedman gave us. “See! Bears. That’s all Sarah wanted to know about. For her project. It wouldn’t have killed you to help out a little.” She turned and stormed into the school leaving me standing there with Cori and Stacey, all of us wearing identical shocked expressions on our faces.

  Cori yelled, “Wait, Mindi!” Then, shooting me a look that would have sizzled a piece of bacon, she bolted into the school after Mindi.

  Stacey looked at me. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just trying to do a project,” I answered.

  BEARS

  Black Bears of North America

  Full-grown adult black bears weigh between one hundred and six hundred pounds. The colour of their shaggy fur ranges from white to brown and black. Bears are classified as carnivores, but they are really omnivores, meaning they will eat just about anything. They particularly love fresh leaves, nuts, roots, fruits, berries, and tubers.