There Will Be Bears (11 page)

As we’re walking out of the mall, I casually say, “So Dad, I was thinking, since Gene has his dialysis appointment on Friday, would it be all right if he and I went camping? He only has to go to his appointments once every three days, so he’d be good all weekend.”

I heard somewhere that liars don’t look you in the eyes and they fidget and scratch their neck. When Dad turns to me, I’m staring right at him with my hands in my pockets.

“Camping?”

“Yeah, it’s near Pocatello.” I hand him a printout from my pocket. “Check it out. Gene really wanted to explore the Minnetonka Cave. And there are all types of animals to see, like moose, mule deer, bison, mountain lion, and pronghorn.”

Thank you, Wikipedia.

“Camping.” He says it this time like he’s considering it.

I force down a smile and say, “And if anything does happen to Gene, there are guides all over the place. It’s really good for the old people. It’s the —”

“Yeah, the Targhee National Forest. Gene took me there when I was a kid. Beautiful country.” But then he sighs. “I can’t do it.”

Huh?

All defensive, I say, “But they have, like, a million benches for Gene if he gets tired. And there isn’t a single grizzly bear in all of Idaho.”

“Your grandfather is in bad shape.”

“Not for this.” God, I’m practically whining. “You promised. Don’t break your promise.”

“I said we’d go visit Gramps in Rock Springs. I never said anything about camping.”

My jaw clenches. I know Dad just wants to make sure we’re safe, but I’m fighting back this flood of feelings. Then I just start blubbering. “I do everything you ask. I get a B plus on my test, I don’t do drugs or hang out with the wrong crowd. I even gave up the hunting trip and found a safe alternative. I’m not a kid anymore. I can take care of Gene if anything happens. Why can’t you just let me do this one thing?”

Wow. I’ve never lied so hard in my life. My performance was so convincing that tears are welling in
my
eyes. And I want to feel like it’s a good thing and the ends justify the means and all that fun stuff. I’m not doing anything wrong. I was promised this hunting trip, and this lie will fulfill Dad’s promise.

Yes, it’s a good thing. And I shouldn’t feel so awful about it.

He looks at me like a proud parent sending his only son off to war and says, “Be safe. Please, for the love of God, be safe.”

He believes me. He actually believes me.

I think I’m going to be sick.

My alarm goes off, but I’ve been awake all night staring at the clock, waiting for six thirty to come. My heart didn’t let me sleep. It was pounding all night, and no matter how much I read Gene’s bear book, no matter how many push-ups and sit-ups I did in my room, I couldn’t tire myself out. It’s because I’m excited. Tomorrow morning we’re leaving for the Grand Tetons. I’m not scared that Sandy might eat me or that Gene will get sick and die. No, I’m just excited because I’ve been waiting for this trip for so long. I’m not going to look into the fact that today is Halloween. It’s not a bad sign. I mean, this is my favorite holiday of the year.

I take a lot of deep breaths in the shower, staring at the bottle of shampoo. Two hunters from Ohio got killed. It’s crazy that a bear would do that. Why did she do that? Bears rarely attack humans. They were just hanging out in their tent and then bam, they’re dead.

I turn off the shower. I towel off my hair. I can’t believe I didn’t know bulls were male elk. I told Karen that I’m this awesome hunter, but there isn’t anything on my profile except for a couple of pictures of me at karaoke and my two-year-old profile pic of Brighton with his arm around my shoulder after ultimate Frisbee.

Oh, yeah, I should take that pic down. Or at least crop him out.

Last year me and Bright dressed up as Dumb and Dumber. We went to the Goodwill and I found a suit the color of orange smoothies and he picked out one that was baby blue. Everyone thought we had the best costumes, even if the suits were too big on us. Back then, Bright’s hair was perfect for Harry.

We’ve dressed up for Halloween together for as long as I can remember. We’ve been Ren and Stimpy, Bloo and Mac, and we started it off in first grade with Bert and Ernie. This will be the first year that I’m going solo.

Fully decked out in my costume, I’m crossing the street when I see Bright with his friends all dressed as zombies.

“Who the heck is that?” says Timmy. His idea of a costume is a Led Zeppelin hoodie, old sneakers, and some cheap zombie makeup from a kit.

“Tyson?” Bright says, one eyebrow raised. The zit on his nose isn’t covered up today.

“Dude,” Nico says, impressed. “Is this like, skinned from an actual bear?” He touches one of the canines hanging over my brow.

“Could be,” I say.

Nico laughs, but Bright just stands there looking dead. He says to his friends, “I’ll meet up with you guys.”

After his friends walk away, Bright gives me this shameful face and says, “You got to stop this.”

“Stop what?”

“You know. All this bear stuff.”

“Whatever. My costume is sweet.”

“You look ridiculous.”

“What about that massive zit on your nose?”

He scowls.

“Uh-oh. Look out. Angry bear!” I know he hates it when I say “bear” after everything. He shoves me, but I hold my ground. He’s not looking at me. He’s looking over my shoulder.

I turn around and his friends are watching us from three houses down. How can I humiliate him like he did to me?

I lock him in a bear hug and we fall into the grass.

“Get off me!” He’s swinging punches, but my costume cushions the blows. And I’m laughing because he can’t get up.

I say, “Not until you admit you like Taylor Swift.” I hack up a wad of snot and hold it in. The shadow of my costume’s teeth are on his face.

His eyes widen. “Don’t.”

The wad dangles out my smile.

He says, “Dude, seriously. Cut it out.” He squirms and fights, but that only makes the wad wiggle.

I can’t stop laughing and the thread is getting thinner. And longer.

With his face turned and eyes closed, he says, “I like some of her stuff.”

“Louder,” I carefully say.

He shouts, “ ‘Mean’ is my favorite song!”

“Who wrote it?”

“Taylor Swift!”

But it’s too late. The thread breaks . . . all over his face.

“Gah!”

I release him and he wipes the wad away, smearing it onto the grass.

“You’re a liar,” I say. “And you’re pathetic.”

He smiles because he knows I’m talking about his all-time favorite song. And mine. He says, “Why do you have to be so mean?”

“Remember that time you wiped your booger on me in first grade? Now we’re even.”

He scrunches his face until it dawns on him. “Oh, yeah. You came over after school. Remember when my mom wouldn’t let us play soccer until we picked up Chloe’s poo?”

“So we grabbed some shovels and chucked it into your neighbor’s yard.”

For the first time in forever, he does his British guffaw.

I look over. Bright’s friends have left.

He says, “Have you been working out?” And now he’s just being sarcastic.

I shake my head and walk away, because he just won’t stop sucking. I’m not going to deal with it anymore.

“Timmy says you drew me a picture,” he says from about ten steps behind.

“Just leave me alone.”

“A bear kicking a football.” He laughs.

I walk faster. “It was an assignment. We had to draw a friend or a family member as an animal. Ms. Davis is weird.”

“Do you remember in elementary school when you were Pizza Bear? What was I? Booger Bear?”

“Booger Bear Five Thousand.”

“Oh, yeah. We were so ridiculous.”

I cross the last intersection before school, and the first bus is pulling up to the front door. Bright is still walking behind me and it’s so awkward. Finally he says, “Have you, uh, noticed we don’t really hang out anymore?”

“Nah, missed it.” I open the door. I don’t hold it for him.

“Because I was thinking you could come over and we could play air hockey.”

He really can’t think I’d fall for that again.

He grabs me by the shoulder. “Hey, man, I only told them about you because Timmy kept bugging me. You know, he was giving me a hard time because we lost the last two games by a field goal. And he had this big ski trip to Steamboat with his parents, and he wasn’t going to invite me unless I went along with his stupid plan.” And then he says, “It killed me, dude.”

Part of me doesn’t trust him, but most of me really thinks he’s just as big of a dork as I am.

He says, “How can I make it up to you?”

“I don’t know. I just . . . I mean, would you be able to forgive me if I did that to you?”

He looks sorry, kinda like Chloe did when he scolded her for getting into his Chipotle. And then finally he goes, “Hey, um, when you get back from Wyoming, I’ll do whatever you say. I bear swear.”

“Huh?” I wasn’t expecting those two words to come out of his mouth.

He smiles. “Karen showed it to Mika. Mika showed me. Everyone’s doing it now.”

I shrug. “I am a trendsetter.”

“Oh, yeah? Is ‘yamhole’ catching on?”

“I’ve heard a few people say it.”

“
No one
is saying it.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He’s laughing a bunch and I really want to laugh too, but I can’t make it seem like we’re suddenly cool again.

“So can we still be friends?” And then he sweetens the deal with “It would be totally yam.”

He’s right about that, but who’s to say that he won’t betray me again?

The bell rings.

“I don’t know,” I say.

Outside the auditorium, he tries to do the bear swear with me, but I’m not having any of it. So he clumsily bumps his fists with my paws. And then he turns and stumbles away like a wiener. He looks like he did in first grade when he didn’t know how to talk American and everyone made fun of him and he only had one friend.

God, I better not get all soft on him.

I step into the auditorium, and Mr. Cavner says, “Have a seat, Tyson.” He’s searching through the desk drawers on stage and wearing a red Mr. Rogers sweater-vest. But it’s not a costume. He always kinda looks like Mr. Rogers. “We’ll pick up where we left off yesterday.”

Karen’s jaw drops when she sees me, but she still holds her smile. She’s dressed up as a hunter — camouflage jacket and pants, and an orange vest. I want to sit next to her, but the only seat left is on the other side of the auditorium near the door. During the entire period, she’s sneaking glances at me, quickly turning away whenever I catch her.

After class lets out, I slowly put my things away, timing it just right so she’ll pass me as I’m standing up.

“Hi, Bear,” she says, and we walk out of the auditorium together.

“Hi, Hunter. I like your costume.”

“Thanks. I actually wore this at Five-J. I didn’t really need to, though. I shot that oryx from a pickup.”

“They don’t keep any of my kind at those ranches, do they?”

“You mean grizzlies? No, I haven’t hunted any bears . . . yet.” She winks.

Oh, my God, that’s got to be a signal. “Yup, I’m going to be riding horseback where those two hunters from Ohio got killed.”

“And you’re not freaked out?”

“Nah. All you have to do is make a lot of noise and you scare them right off.”

She shakes her head. “You’d never see me in a place like that. Gives me the creeps just thinking about it. Grizzly bears aren’t anything to be messing around with, not in my book.”

“So, I was wondering, do you want to do something next week?”

With a sly look she goes, “You asking me out?”

“No. Well, yes. Kind of. You ever done karaoke?”

“No, never been.”

“It’s so much fun.”

“Just don’t get eaten this weekend.”

“Are you trying to scare me?”

“I’m just saying that if that bear attacks, do
not
run, because they charge at thirty miles an hour. If you run, you have no chance. No, you gotta play dead. Lie on the ground with your head down and keep your hands behind your neck. Better odds of survival.”

I fake a laugh, but all those words of warning I read in Gene’s book sound so much more . . . real . . . coming out of her mouth. “Stop messing with me.” My voice has suddenly become frail.

“Grizzly bears are the strongest land animals on earth. I want to go on a date with
one
you. Not a hundred pieces of you.” She hugs me in the middle of hallway traffic, and I’ve never felt anything more comforting and terrifying at the same time.

Karen’s seriously concerned face is inches from mine, and it hits me like a neck-snapping blow to the face: I got a date with the girl of my dreams, but I’ll probably be dead before the weekend is up.