Page 2 of The Boy Who Cried Bear
It’s big, too. Sheriff Eric taught him how to guess the size of a creature by the size of the noise. This isn’t a rabbit.
Arctic hare, he corrects. They have hares here, not rabbits. While hares usually have longer hind legs and ears, Arctic hares have shorter ones. Unlike rabbits, they live alone or in pairs, but when it gets really cold, they’ve been known to huddle with others for warmth. Right now—late summer back home and early fall here—the hares are starting to turn white for winter camouflage. There’d been a lot of them this year, which Sheriff Eric says means there’ll be more lynx and fox—and maybe even wolves—next year because more food means more of their kits and cubs will survive.
Max hurries to catch up with Carson, wanting to tell him about Arctic hares, but the look on his brother’s face warns him not to. He’ll tell Mom instead. She likes to hear everything he’s learning, even on the days when the pain is so bad she has to stay in bed. Sometimes, if he listens at the door, he hears her crying. He’s never sure if it’s because of the pain, though, or because Dad’s gone.
Max keeps peeking to the side, trying to see what’s stalking them. Three months ago, he’d have been so scared he’d have run and told Kendra right away. He knows better now. There are six of them on the hike. Kendra is up front, leading the way. Behind her is a man whose name Max doesn’t know yet. He’s new, and he’s gawking around like he’s never seen a tree before. Then there’s Lynn, who came with her husband, but Max hears them fighting all the time. Next come Carson and Max. Gunnar brings up the rear.
Kendra carries a gun. Gunnar does not, which is funny, because of his name. But Gunnar does have bear spray. So does Kendra. With one gun, two cans of bear spray, and six people, they shouldn’t need to worry about bears. Whatever is following them is just curious. Still, Max should tell Kendra. That’s what Sheriff Eric would say. But the last time they were out for a walk, Max thought he saw a bear following them, and he’d told Kendra … and there’d been no bear.
Carson had said Max was imagining things, but Kendra and Sheriff Eric and Detective Casey believed Max. Kendra and Sheriff Eric had searched for tracks or fur or broken branches. Detective Casey brought Storm to sniff around.
No one found any sign of a bear. They’d all been really nice about it—better safe than sorry—but Max had wanted to curl up in embarrassment. He’d felt like a little kid with everyone humoring him.
So now, even though Max should tell Kendra, he can’t. Not without proof.
“Can you just listen?” Max whispers to Carson. “Tell me if you hear what I hear.”
“I don’t hear anything except you.”
Max stops talking, in hopes that Carson means “Be quiet so I can listen.” But Carson keeps walking with that look on his face, the one that says he doesn’t want to see or hear anything.
“Just listen,” Max says. “Please.”
“I don’t hear it.”
“You’re not listening.”
“Would you stop this?” Carson hisses. “You’re embarrassing yourself. Do you want Eric to stop giving you those lessons?”
“Sheriff Eric.”
Carson rolls his dark eyes. “He’s not a real sheriff.”
“Yes, he is. He has a hat and a gun. Detective Casey says they used to have horses, in the other town. Just like a real sheriff.”
“You’re such a baby. If you keep this up, Mom’s going to decide those lessons with Eric are freaking you out. She might even decide you shouldn’t go into the forest if you can’t stop jumping at every noise.”
“I’m not jumping. I’m being aware of my surroundings.”
Another eye roll. “Now you even sound like him.”
“Hey, kid,” Gunnar calls. “Is your brother being an asshole again?”
“Yes,” Carson says.
“I wasn’t talking to you, asshole.”
Lynn looks back sharply, her eyes wide. “Did you just call Carson an—?” She mouths the word.
“Course not,” Gunnar says. “That would be wrong.”
As soon as Lynn turns away, Gunnar mouths Asshole to Carson, who flips him the bird. Gunnar only grins.
“Come back here, kid,” Gunnar says to Max. “Your brother needs a time-out.”
“Finally,” Carson says, and walks on ahead.
Max slows to let Gunnar catch up. Gunnar is older than Kendra—he’d turned twenty-eight last month and the bakers made him a cake. So Carson shouldn’t need to come along when Gunnar’s there, right? Max tried saying that to his mom, but she wouldn’t listen. Like it didn’t matter how old Gunnar was, she still didn’t trust him with her son.
