The Messenger 04 Children Can Be So Cruel
Denise Arnault
Copyright © 2024 Denise Arnault
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
This story was originally published as an e-book short story at https://www.storystar.com/profile/23692/denise-arnault#stories
All stories published on StoryStar are free to read. I usually try to publish a short version of my stories there before publishing the longer version on Amazon.
Dedication
All my Messengers stories are dedicated to Monica and to Master Po. This unlikely duo provided me insight into the possibilities available.
Introduction
Bernice knows as she is growing up that she is not like the other little girls. When she matures, she learns that being different is not wrong and that she can have a fulfilling life just like everyone else, with the help of the Messengers.
This story, as do all of the tales about the Messengers, provides an uplifting history of an event or group of events concerning a particular theme, as related to me by the sometimes feisty, but always loquacious, Scottish Messenger Doohan MacDonald. Even though he is not MY Messenger, he seems to delight in sharing his stories with me, knowing full well that I will pass them on to my readers. I do my best to pass along his words, as given by him to me, and fault any inaccuracies to the glass of Laphroaig Scotch Whiskey that he bids me to drink in his honor as we talk. He has told me many times that his only regret in his current existence is the inability to enjoy for himself the peat smoke aroma and flavor of this product of his home Isle of Islay.
Our Story...
The other children could be so cruel sometimes. It made her cry.
Bernice, who was only eight years old, did not feel that she had done anything wrong, but here she was again, sitting alone with her tears, while the other children ran about the 2nd grade playground, pushing each other and laughing. The day was a little warm, so all the girls had a glistening sheen of sweat, which the breeze would dry off quickly if they stopped for a few moments. The mostly blue sky, was becoming covered with heavy dark clouds, but still let enough sunlight filter through to keep the warmth up, even though the temperature was only slightly above 70 degrees Fahrenheit. All the girls looked mostly the same in their white knit golf shirts, blue knee length skirts and white sneakers, although it was certain that their mothers would have no trouble distinguishing their own daughters among the crowd playing in the freshly mowed grass lawn surrounded by maple, ash and oak trees.
It did not seem to Bernice that she was different. She was neither taller, nor shorter than most of the girls. Her weight was average. Her hair was brown like most of the girls. She did not smell bad. But somehow, the other girls always found a way to make fun of her and make her cry, so here she was, sprawled in the grass, tears running down her cheeks, wishing that she had not done whatever it was this time.
She could not see the slightly glowing ethereal Messenger, which had not chosen to be visible, as it approached her to whisper in her ear again. Messenger Clara often came around when Bernice was sad, to whisper words of encouragement.
'There is nothing wrong with you, little one. You are what God made you to be.' The Messenger's words seemed more like her own thoughts in Bernice's head, than like words that she heard. This was always the way of it when she heard from Messenger Clara.
The beautiful, but unseen, visitor continued to whisper to the girl, 'The other children do not actually know why they say such things. Children are naturally competitive and seeking of attention from others. It is the result of constantly having their needs met by others, whenever they act a certain way when they are a babe.'
These thoughts/whispers did have their desired effect on Bernice's tears, which slowed as she wiped them away with the backs of her wrists. The wet stains of her tears remained on her cheeks far longer than normal, as the air was heavy with the humidity that would soon become a spring shower.
She stood up, as she tried to remember what had happened this time to make the other girls make fun of her. They had been playing tag, all of them running around giggling. It had all seemed to go wrong when she grabbed Sandra and fell to the ground with her. Sandra was just soooo cute! She just wanted to hug her and be her friend. Sandra was nice to her, not mean like most of the girls, especially not like the ones who had started in almost immediately with their taunts after Sandra and her fell down, arms and legs all askew.
"Don't know how to play the game!" Jeannie said.
"You're not IT! You can't catch anyone!" Marli added.
Sandra extricated herself from Bernice, fending off her hugs and giving her a foul look before stomping away indignantly, brushing bits of grass from her skirt. All the other kids followed her as she left, leaving Bernice alone with her hurt feelings. Beatrice starting walking dejectedly back to the classroom, just as the first drops of rain began to fall. Now, at least, no one would be able to determine if she had been crying or not, since the raindrops left wet spots to hide where the tears had fallen.
* * *
On another cloudy day, this one in the eighth grade, Bernice was resting on the school steps. The cement steps were warm, but not uncomfortably so, and blended well with the imposing brick building housing Stan Blankenship Junior High School. She was near a knot of other girls but was clearly not part of the group. The girls were chatting about boys, as Bernice listened quietly. She had never had a boyfriend, or truth to tell, not really any friend, so she was anxious to find out what the other girls knew.
Ann, a cute, petite Latina, said, “I think Jerry is such a dream!”
The girls giggled and Sandra added, “Yeah, that long, curly, hair hanging down in his eyes is really nice!” This additional information was greeted by more giggles and the girl's heads were even closer together in the expectation of even more juicy gossip to come.
It was at this point that Bradley, a ninth grader, started up the steps to enter the building. He was known around the school as a player. He glanced at the group of girls talking quietly with their heads together. They did not seem to be paying attention to anything around them, much less him. He then looked over at Bernice, who was sitting alone, her gaze on the worn steps of the staircase.
Bradley stopped in front of Bernice and waited a second or two to see if she would notice or respond, but she did not. He eventually said, “Hey, you’re Bernice, aren’t you?”
Looking up, she saw the older boy, whom she did not know and mumbled, “Huh? What?”
Ignoring her question, and the lack of confirmation about her identity, Bradley continued, “Everyone says that you’ve never been kissed.”
He then leaned in close to her, placing his hand on her shoulder and smiling assuredly, as he added, “Wanna fix that right now?” Bradley's pursed lips started moving closer to her face!
Bernice was shocked! What was this boy driving at? What was he doing? People do NOT just walk up and kiss strangers! Her hands both quickly came up and pushed him away. He rocked back on his heels from the sudden force of the shove. The other girls had gotten quiet, obviously now noticing the interaction.
“Hey, chill!” Bradley quipped, raising his hands wide and stepping back, showing that he meant no harm. “Just checking to see if you’re really gay like everyone says.”
Bernice did not wait for any further explanation. She gathered her books, stood up, and left the steps, tears starting to well in her eyes. ‘Why does everyone call me that?’ she thought to herself as she fled. ‘What is wrong with me?’
Messenger Clara was once again nearby. She quickly whispered, ‘You are different, but there is nothing wrong with you. You are not alone. There are others like you but not as many as those who are not like you.’
These thoughts did make Bernice feel a little better, as she made her way back to her locker, stopping to get the books for the next class, which she exchanged with the ones that had been in her backpack. Her thoughts continued, ‘I wonder what it would be like to have a friend?’
* * *
High School was no better for Bernice. There did not seem to be any other girls in the school that she could relate to. No one, boy or girl, wanted to hang out with her. She was starting to think that she must actually be gay. She was not interested in the boys, but some of the girls were very cute. It was all very confusing.
Still, she was not ready to talk to anyone about it. The way everyone talked about being gay made it seem like a secret that she should keep to herself. She knew that she was different than the others, but she did not feel different. She was hungry and ate. She was tired and slept. She was sad and cried. Everyone did these things. She could really not see what made her so different, and everyone could apparently detect it when she could not.
She continued to keep her misery to herself. Her Mom, who had noticed that Bernice never brought friends over to the house, could tell that she was not happy. Her Mom would say things like, “You can talk to me about anything, you know?” but Bernice would not share how she felt with her. Her Mom did not think that she should press the issue. Maybe Bernice would open up about her loneliness when she was ready.
When time came for the senior prom, of course Bernice did not get any offers. She had not expected to, and there really was no boy that she was interested in going to the dance with anyway. Still, it was disappointing. Her Mom tried to smooth the hurt with advice like, “This is not so bad. Lots of girls do not get a date to the prom. You can just go hang out and see what happens.”
Bernice resignedly agreed to an outfit picked out by her Mom. It was a pink, sparkly dress with a modest hem and with just a hint of her immature bosom displayed. When the big night came, her Mom helped her put her hair into a fancy style with pins and waves, adding a dash of makeup and she was ready. Her Dad drove her in the family car, her riding in the back seat alone, like he was her chauffeur and she a famous person, and dropped her off at the school auditorium where the prom was being held.
“See you right here at 11 o’clock, pumpkin. Call, if you need to be picked up sooner,” he told her in his cheery Dad voice before she got out of the car. Bernice slid out with a small nod and smile, but without a word.
The evening went pretty much as Bernice expected it to. She spent her time in the wall flower section with several other girls who also did not have dates. All the other girls that she shared the section with did eventually get a dance or two, but not her. To tell the truth, she had no interest in the dance floor. It was crowded with sweaty teens anyway.
The music was nice. The school had paid for a band comprised of some popular students from the senior class to play at the prom. They sang a passable list of the current top 20 hits. Bernice was content to bounce and sway to the beat by herself, in the dim sidelines of the party.
Messenger Clara tried to ease the situation for Bernice, saying, ‘You will find love and companionship someday. It is not an easy task for anyone. It does not seem like it now, but the years spent at school will seem unimportant before long.’
As usual, these thoughts given to her by the Messenger lightened her spirits. Bernice, for all her loneliness, had a basically positive outlook on life.
* * *
Her Mom was becoming more worried about Bernice. After graduation, her daughter seemed more withdrawn than ever. Not having classes or school projects to occupy her, she mostly just stayed in her room reading or otherwise occupying herself.
“I know that you do not have any activities scheduled before you start college next year,” her Mom hesitantly broached one morning over breakfast. “How are you going to pass your summer?”
“Don’t know,” Bernice replied morosely in between bites of the eggs that her Mom had made. “Haven’t really thought about it”
“Jessie said that her daughter, who works down at the Starbucks, said that they were looking for someone. Maybe you should work there for the summer to save up some spending money for when you are at college.”
“Hmm, sounds like a plan,” Bernice agreed.
Later that same day, she went to the Starbucks that her Mom had indicated. She was a little nervous, but walked up to the cash register and asked for an employee application. The boy at the register told her to wait just a moment and disappeared through the door behind him, to come out less than a minute later with an older boy.
The new arrival said, "Ben tells me that you are interested in working here."
Bernice replied, "Yes, I hear that you are looking for people."
After a few more exchanges, the manager informed her that she was hired and could start the morning shift the following day.
* * *
Bernice liked the routine of working at Starbucks. There were very few boring down times. Customers came through regularly, no matter the time of day. She even got along well with the other employees. It was so different from the cliquish atmosphere of school. She had been correct about that.
One of her coworkers, Jennifer, was almost a friend. They chatted during break, something that she had never had anyone to do that with before. She knew more about the short red-headed girl than she ever had about anyone at school.
After Bernice had been working at Starbucks for a couple of weeks, her sense of happiness and well-being about her job were disrupted by members of the public. She was making one of the large pots of coffee while Jennifer was working the register, the petite Hanna So was at the barista station, with Henry at the drive-thru.
Three young boys, probably just out of high school, like herself, had come into the store and were looking around and talking amongst themselves. Their comments grew louder and more raucous as they continued examining the products on the shelves and in the cooler.
“Look who’s here,” one of them said to his buddy, elbowing him in the side, loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear.
“You wouldn’t think that management would want that kind of person working here,” the friend replied.
Stepping up to the counter, the first boy addressed Jennifer, “You think that you could get me a Venti Mocha Cappuccino without any of your gayness falling into it? I don’t want to catch it!”
Jennifer blinked quickly a couple of times, as she flinched back from the counter for a moment. Bernice, who had heard the comment also, turned with a shocked look on her face to see who these boys were.
Jennifer quickly controlled her amazement and responded professionally, “Certainly, sir, one Venti Mocha Cappuccino coming up.”
Entering the order into the register, she continued, “Will there be anything else, sir?”
“He only wants the cappuccino. No special additives,” smirked the second boy, as he moved up to the register also. “I’ll have a large black coffee, too.”
Not missing a beat, Jennifer responded, “And one Grande Coffee. Can I get a name for the order?”
“He’s Mister Big, and I’m Dick,” the boy who had started the order said. They both laughed about that answer, but Jennifer calmly just wrote the names they gave on the cups and passed them back to Bernice to fill the order. The third boy had remained away from the line, apparently not wanting anything.
Bernice could barely hold the cups long enough to set them down. She did not recognize the boys and could not see how they would know anything about her. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes as their remarks stung!
Jennifer monitored the boys paying with their credit card, and then ignored them as they moved along to the pickup counter. The boys got another good chuckle when Hanna called, as if nothing unusual was happening, “Dick and Mister Big for pickup!” Still enjoying their little joke, the boys left with their drinks, the unseen form of an Infidel following them, seeming to shade the space behind them with a hint of shadow.
Infidels, like Messengers, were invisible, ethereal beings who travelled about, interacting with humanity. The Infidels loved to amuse themselves by tricking receptive humans into doing annoying things.
Messenger Clara did not appear to be present this day, or at least had nothing to say.
* * *
As the Starbucks crew was in the employee lounge, removing their aprons and readying to depart at the end of their shift, Jennifer piped up with, “Hey guys! We should all go down to Pete’s for a snack before we head home. Some of us can have a beer, Henry and Hanna, but all of us can have some fries!”
“Sure!” “Why not!” “Sounds good to me!”
With these enthusiastic responses from the others, the entire shift of Starbucks employees headed out the door, their replacements having taken up their positions at the counters. The walk was only a block and a half, so the conversation between the group was mostly small talk about being ready to be done with that shift, etc.
Pete’s was a small sports bar, with neon signs advertising various brands of local, domestic, and foreign beer which failed in their attempt to dispel the gloom. There were large screen TVs everywhere and the sound level was not conducive to quiet conversations. The group slid onto barstools at one of the chest high tables that lined the walls.
“What was that all about near the end of the shift?” Henry asked loud enough to be heard over the general din of the bar.
“Just some assholes trying to be funny,” Jennifer replied equally loudly.
“Homophobes!” added Hanna. “Little boys in men’s clothing. They can’t handle us lesbians. It goes against their egos!”
Bernice was somewhat shocked to hear her friends openly talking about such topics. She had always kept her status secret and everything to do with it closely guarded.
“Yeah, Ernest, the loud one, is just pissed that I won’t go on a date with him,” Jennifer continued.
“Nothing new there,” Henry replied.
Bernice just managed a non-committal, “Huh!” She had assumed that the mean boys had been talking about her, but it seemed that she was not so unique after all.
Standing behind Bernice, Messenger Clara whispered, ‘You were made differently but you were not made incorrectly. Everyone has a purpose. As I’ve said before, you are not alone.’
The conversation turned to the upcoming Olympics, which everyone was hoping to get to see enough of when not working. Gymnastics seemed to be what most wanted to watch. They all hoped that Simone Biles would be able to get the Gold again. There were also comments about the Americans beating the Aussies at swimming, and a wish to watch the skateboarding.
After a little over an hour, they broke up and all went their separate ways to homes and apartments.
* * *
At 8:45 the next morning, Jennifer and Bernice got off the bus together, half a block from the Starbucks, and headed towards the coffee shop to start their 9AM midday shift. Bernice always saved a seat on the bus for Jennifer, who got on at a stop about halfway to work. The two walked shoulder to shoulder, not needing to say anything, towards the alley leading to the employee entrance. Turning the corner into the space between Starbucks and the hardware store next door, the pair stopped short as they encountered the three boys from yesterday.
“Look who’s here!” Ernest spoke up to his friends. “It’s Lezzo and her pal.”
Jennifer and Bernice, both tight-lipped, just walked past the boys without a word, crowding the trio back a bit against the wall, and went into Starbucks. Sadly, this was not to be the last they would hear from them this day.
The shift was less than an hour old when the rowdy’s entered the shop. Emboldened by their prior victories goading Jennifer, they appeared ready to start right into it again.
Messenger Clara, who had been expecting more from this group decided that becoming visible in this mid-morning crowded space was not the way to handle the situation. With a whispered, ‘Fear not!’ in Bernice’s ear, the unseen Messenger departed.
Existing on a different plane than their human companions, Messengers are never just in one place. She therefore appeared almost instantly with a group of other Messengers in a sunlit glen, somewhere in the hills of Ireland.
“Clara, you look troubled,” the senior Messenger present said calmly.
“Yes, Mother,” Clara responded. “My charge is having a trying moment. I could use a Messenger who is not yet bonded to help.”
Turning to the youngest Messenger present, the senior Messenger, whose name was Martha, said, “Joel, are you ready to assume a bond?”
Joel glided forward without hesitation. “Yes, Mother.”
“Then go with Clara, and remember your training,” Martha directed him.
The two Messengers winked out of the glen and were back in Starbucks again. Clara had sent Joel a feed of the problem via their almost instantaneous video like communication method. He was thus fully aware of the situation and the participants immediately upon arrival.
As the Messengers arrived, Ernest was just launching into what appeared to be a continuation of his tirade. “Don’t know why woke companies hire fags and lezzies to take the jobs of hard-working folks.”
When Clara indicated Henry with her finger, Joel went right over and leaned in closely. Some unseen energy passed between the two, momentarily causing Henry to feel lightheaded. He closed his eyes briefly, grabbed the edge of the counter with his left hand to steady himself, and raised his right hand to his forehead, but quickly recovered.
Joel whispered into Henry’s ear, ‘You are the Senior Employee on this shift. It’s up to you to speak up.’
Joel continued whispering, ‘These actions are not right,’ into Henry’s ear, as he stepped away from the drive-thru window to the counter, deciding that enough was enough.
“Hey Neanderthal,” he began in a slightly raised voice. “Zip it!”
Quiet fell throughout the coffee shop. Henry now had everyone’s attention.
“I'm afraid that you will have to leave,” he continued. “We are not allowed to serve unaccompanied minors.”
“I’m 19,” blustered Ernest.
Henry continued as he stepped around the end of the counter and approached the three boys, “Most children grow out of this behavior around 12 or 13, when they find something more interesting than harassing other people and showing off. You apparently have not. Come back when you are in the company of adults.”
Raising his arms and crowding the offenders, Henry herded the sputtering group out the front door. Applause erupted from the other customers and the barista as the door closed behind the offensive group.
“Go Henry!” “Good job!” “About time someone put those ruffians in their place!”
Amid the shouted congratulations, a customer clapped Henry on the back as he headed back behind the counter.
Bernice did not know how she felt about the altercation. It was very strange for anyone, much less everyone, to be defending her and her friends.
‘Humans are very complex. Some are born with physical differences and some with mental differences. The challenges that we overcome make us better and stronger. God chose the best souls for the most challenging problems,’ Messenger Clara told her. ‘Most people are good, if you give them the chance, or a little prod in the right direction.’
* * *
Afterword: Ernest and his friends fumed over their embarrassment at the coffee shop, but were not brave enough to risk a repeat of the scene to try to even the score. Bernice and Jennifer became even closer friends. Bernice moved into Jennifer’s apartment. His newfound assertiveness led to Henry becoming Shift Supervisor at the Starbucks, management either not caring about or not hearing the details of his throwing out paying customers.
