Bearwalker by Joseph Bruchac

room. Everyone had been wakened—and freaked out—by the noise of Mr. Mack’s arrival. The confusion hadn’t been helped by the sight of him being hustled into the kitchen to be questioned.
    Mrs. Smiler and the parent chaperones had just started to get the kids semi-settled down again when Mrs. Osgood’s loud “No! No!” had come ringing out of the kitchen. That had stirred things up again and started what sounded like a stampede behind me in the main hall. I didn’t even think about what I was doing. I quickly pulled the kitchen door shut, cutting off the sight of Mrs. Osgood and that frighteningly bloody green jacket. A big head bumped against my hip. It was Poe-boy. Together, the big black dog and I turned to face the crowd that actually stopped surging forward and got quiet when I thrust my hand up toward them, palm out.
    Asa was at the front of the crowd and he took a hesitant step toward me.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” he said in a shaky voice.
    His face was pale. Even though he was still physically taller than me, I realized at thatmoment both how scared he was and how calm I felt. I also came to the recognition that there really was nothing that scary about him after all. He and his friends, who were huddling together behind him like chickens expecting to get picked off by a hawk, looked like nothing more than frightened little boys. I scanned the other faces in front of me, boys and girls who were my classmates but seemed to be seeing me in a new way. Harle, Cody, Willy, Heidi, Tara, and everyone else. They were all waiting, even Mrs. Smiler and the parent chaperones who were at the back. They wanted reassurance from me, even those boys who’d made me so miserable for so long.
    I knew in my heart that if I survived this night I would never be afraid of Asa and his crew again. For the first time I understand something that my mom had told me one day when I came home after being picked on by bigger kids. “Bullies,” she said, “act that way because they’re afraid.”
    I also knew, for whatever reason, that what I had to do now was say something to help everyone calm down. “It’s okay,” I said. “Mr. Mack got hurt, but it wasn’t bad. Mr. Wilbur will be out in a second to explain things. Settle, okay?”
    It wasn’t what you’d call oratorial eloquence. But it worked. The kids calmed down, no longer milling about like a herd of cattle about to head for the nearest cliff, and Mrs. Smiler moved to the front. She raised her hands in a shooing gesture.
    â€œOkay, campers,” she said, “you heard the man. Party’s over. Everybody retreat to their own crash pad.”
    Then she turned, smiled at me, and leaned close. “Baron,” she said in a soft voice, “you are one cool dude.”
    A hand grasped my shoulder from behind. “I’ll second that,” Mr. Wilbur said. “Think I need to say anything to the kids now, Ginny?”
    Mrs. Smiler shook her head. “I think it’s all groovy for now. What they need to do is get some sleep or they’ll be basket cases tomorrow.”
    â€œMore than they already are?” Mr. Wilbur smiled, but I could tell that his smile was forced.
    â€œWhat is up?” Mrs. Smiler said.
    â€œWe’re still figuring it all out.” Mr. Wilbur shook his head, his brief smile vanished now. “Let’s just say I was a little too right in my misgivings about our new camp director and his staff.”
    Â 
    Misgivings. Not a bad word for how I’m feeling now. Not fear, but a vague uncertainty about what exactly is going to happen next. Aside from being certain that, whatever it is, it is not going to be good.
    I’ve slipped back into the kitchen after the other kids were settled into their sleeping (or lying awake with their eyes wide open while being filled with dread) areas.
    Poe-boy, of course, has followed me, although he leaves my