All the Broken Things (19 page)

Orange smelled of Bear.

Orange pulled away in Bo’s arms and rocked her body such that he almost dropped her. “Orange!” Bo said and jostled her so that she crumpled against his shoulder.

“She likes Emily, it looks like,” said Teacher.

“Đưa cô vào phòng cô, lam ơn” said Rose, not looking up, and Bo obeyed, taking Orange back to her room, but not before hearing Emily tell Rose that she loved to mind Orange.

He lay down on his back on Orange’s mattress and let his sister slap him and bounce near him. Bear came and nuzzled his armpit. He pushed her gently away and when she came back for more, he pushed her again. After a while, he said, “Sleep now,” to Orange, and like a miracle she curled up beside him.

He got up after she slept and wandered back to the murmurs in the kitchen. Emily now stood on a chair in the golden gown while his mother pinned the hem. Teacher was gone.

“Hi, Bo,” Emily said, turning her head toward him.

“Hey.” He tried not to stare and then, feeling awkward in the room with her, went back to Orange. He waited, listening for Emily to leave. Minutes later there were voices and then the door opening and closing. He heaved himself up and brought Bear into the yard.

When he was down the steps and about to chain her up, he noticed Emily smiling at him from the backyard gate.

“That’s a big dog,” she said. “Holy.”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Where did you get her?”

“That’s the thing,” he said. “It’s sort of a secret. Her name is Bear. I’m training her to be a circus bear—a wrestling bear. That guy you saw my mum with? His name is Max and he’s sorta my boss.”

“Sorta?”

“Yeah.”

Emily unlatched the gate and let herself in. “I’ve been smelling this scent on Orange for a month or more, every time I babysit. I didn’t think she smelled like dog,” she said. “But today it was super strong, so I decided to follow my nose. This is so cool.” She came very close to Bo and Bear. “Can I pet her?”

Bo nodded, and Emily knelt, facing the bear at eye level. “Bear,” she said. “You are very nice.” She ran her fingers along the swirl of fur between Bear’s eyes and Bear stayed very still and let this happen. “Oh, you are lovely.”

“Promise not to tell,” Bo said.

Emily looked up at him. “Promise,” she said.

I
T WAS THREE WEEKS
before the play and Bear strained at the leash, pulled Bo down the hallway and through the kitchen, past Rose, sitting in near darkness, her sadness like a force field, the tumbler rattling on the table to Orange’s percussive angst. Orange ran her body against the door to her bedroom, and the house seemed to shake. The fact of the play was plaguing Bo. He had to get outside, into the dark, just to get away from his house. If he moved, he could stop thinking about it all.

Bo took Clendenan, then turned down through Ravina Park. There were dogs there, let loose to do their business, and Bear yanked Bo from scent to scent, sniffing and paw-swatting at the larger dogs. Bo and Bear did not linger, though—their destination was farther south. He sidled with his bear down shadowed streets until they came to High Park. The night brought strange rustlings but no trouble. In the park, Bo let the bear off-leash so the two of them could go freely cross-country.

Bo continued, silent, down the hill on Spring Road, where the brush hid them, and deeper into the park, Bear on his heels. There was some light from the half-moon, not much but enough to manage. The park was
all but abandoned on the weeknights and in-between weather seasons, and what wild had made its home here had not ever thought of bear, had no natural fear of one, except from some primordial reflex—the smell suggesting some bigness. Raccoons and skunks waddled across their path and looked warily at Bo, but seemed to disregard Bear.

Each night since the trees had leafed out, Bo had done short training sessions in the backyard or in the dark and safety of the forest’s opening canopy. He would have Bear sit and stay, or beg or roll over, and then give her freedom to climb a tree, or dig or upend a rock to look for grubs, things Bear loved doing. They had explored all over the park, but now they were in the dense brush in the northeastern edge, uphill from the reservoir pond.

“Up. Up,” Bo said.

And Bear sprang up on her back legs and danced.

When Bo ran out of treats to give her, he scratched her behind the ears and rubbed her chest, and she was grateful and leaned into him. Bo showed her cartwheels and somersaults and the cub learned bearish versions. She would try most anything the boy showed her, like she was an extension of Bo. That is what Bo liked to think.

When Gerry visited every week, Bo demonstrated all she could do—a clumsy dance, a flip, how she wrestled his legs to topple him. “Oh-ho,” Gerry would say. “I knew you were the man for it.”

The
man
for it.

Bo heard something in the thicket next to them. “Crouch,” said Bo. Bear did, compressing herself as best she could. She was a big girl, now, like Gerry had said—she was a full bear’s head taller than Bo when she stood on her back legs. Bo gave the signal for quiet, and Bear nuzzled her nose under Bo’s elbow by way of communicating she understood and then splayed like a carpet on the forest floor. Bo lay beside her, heart thumping.

“I seen you, kid.” A strange voice, viscous and strangled.

Bo shook his head, gestured
stay
to Bear, and waited, meting his breath out long and slow to calm himself.

“I god-damned wasn’t born yesterday.”

Bo signalled again to Bear to stay, rolled away as far as he could, and stood, hoping to draw attention away from her. It was a vagrant. Bo tried to see if the man was crazy or drunk or both, and, if both, in what mixture. He was little, under five feet tall, his hair long and filthy with sticks and bits of forest debris in it. A wild man. He wore a green camouflage army jacket, stained, torn and several sizes too big. His nose was a gaping hole, and his chin was wrapped in a bandana.

“The rest of you,” the man said. His words were slurred and wet.

The sight of the man froze him. Who was this? What was this? “Just me,” Bo said. “A kid.”

“Fuck off,” the vagrant said. “If I didn’t see a bear, I sure
as fuck smelled one. Where’d he go?” The man was right up close to him now, and Bo stared at the inside of his face. A twist of pink flesh and bone, tooth, sinew where there should be nose, a damp bandana. “Stop staring, you ignoramus.”

And stupidly, looking down, Bo gave Bear away.

Bear lifted, scenting the vagrant, her nose crinkling back, young fangs glinting white in the moonlight. “She’s mine,” Bo said.

“Nobody never owned a bear,” the man said, “and nobody never will. A bear owns itself, just like any man owns hisself. One day, he’ll tear your arm off to prove it.”

“
She
. I’m her trainer,” said Bo, chastened by the wreckage of the man’s face, his poverty—his roughness.

The vagrant came a step closer and took a long look at Bear. “I can take her with me now and bring her to a place where she could really live.”

Bo shook his head.

“What you got to lose, boy?”

Bo shook his head again. But there was a turning in his gut—dinner shifting—like a wrongness was being revealed to him.

“Who are you?” Bo asked.

“Who am I? Well, they call me Soldier Man. I run off and joined a war and it took my face. I’m ugly now, so I pretty much just hide in here.” Then he said, “Come here, bear,” and snapped his fingers at her.

Bear pulled up to beg and sucked in so much of the man’s scent Bo felt air brush him. She was learning the vagrant, some part of him Bo would never catch. But she did not move. Instead, she glanced at Bo. The vagrant gestured, beckoned, and the cub pulled back fast. It would take some doing now to get her to come.

“You scared her,” said Bo.

“Sure.” And then there was a movement and the place where the man had stood was dark. A branch still swayed, but he was gone.

Within seconds, Bo moved on too, thinking how he would have to be more careful late at night with Bear. But mostly, he thought about
what war
, and
what soldier
, and then, before he could stop his mind, he thought about his father, sharks, water.

B
O GOT HOME TO FIND
M
AX
sitting in the kitchen as if he’d never left, looking more serious than Bo had ever seen him. Rose flitted, picking Orange up and putting her down. Orange was sick, Bo could see. Mucus burbled at her nose and she looked overly pink. Bo hated it that she was even in the room, because it meant that Max could look upon her. But when Bo glowered toward Max, Max was looking at him, not at Orange. He was looking at Bo and at Bear, and he looked pleased.

Rose said, “Why don’t you show Max what you’ve taught your bear?”

Max cleared his throat. “Circuit’s starting up. Gerry must have mentioned.”

“He said something to me last week when he stopped by. Millbrook Fair this Friday. But he’s saving Bear for the Ex.”

“Oh, he is, is he? I suppose it makes some sense. A novelty should have a special reveal, right?” He nodded at Bear, and reached out to pat her, but Bo pulled back on the lead.

“Bear’s tired.” Then he felt it himself, a cover of exhaustion being pulled over him. Soldier Man’s destroyed face flashed in his mind, and then it was gone, just as he had disappeared. Bo needed to sleep.

He coaxed Bear to the back of the house and out the door to the yard. Bear did not want to be chained but she let it happen anyway. Bo scratched her between the eyes and went back to the kitchen.

“I’m taking Orange to bed,” he said to his mother.

But it was Max who answered. “Good idea, son.”

His mum smiled, and said, “Yes.”

Bo made a face at Max and picked up Orange.

“What?” said Max, throwing his hands up in the air. “You don’t like the bear I gave you?”

So, that was how it was supposed to work. In Max’s mind it was a trade.

He hoisted Orange a little higher and shook his head. He could feel the rage rising in him, so to stop himself from hitting Max again, he took Orange to her room, then stayed with her until she slept so deeply that he felt for her pulse and the soft air releasing from her nose, to be sure she was not dead.

The door was cracked open and he heard snippets of conversation, but not enough to make sense of anything. He stood up and then sat again, this time with his back leaning against the wall near the door, to hear better.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” his mother said.

“I missed you, Thao.”

And as much as he wanted to purely hate Max, this other thought was pressing against the rage: his mum was happy again. What if it were okay that Max was here? Maybe Max’s feelings for Rose had somehow stopped him from preying on Orange. Maybe this was normal. Maybe everything would be okay.

“W
HAT STINKS
?” said Ernie. It was the Monday after the Millbrook Fair—first of the season and Bo had revelled in his fight with Loralei. He’d come home too tired to bother washing. Bo realized he smelled of adult bear.

Bo said, “Whoever smelt it, dealt it.”