Angels' Innocence

By Cassandra Morphy

Miranda was a single mother, just trying to get by on a barista's salary. When he came into the coffee shop, she just thought he was a homeless person, in for a handout. But when her Hero saved her from a mugging, a little act of kindness brought them closer than she would have expected. But when the mysterious executives of Angel Corp took too much of an interest in him, a mystery started to unfold, whether she was ready for it or not. Little did she know what that little act of kindness would do to her life. For when you entertain strangers, angels might not be so far away.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cassandra Morphy
• Release date: Apr 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463191132

Cassandra Morphy

Cassandra Morphy is a Business Data Analyst, working with numbers by day, but words by night. She grew up escaping the world, into the other realities of books, TV shows, and movies, and now she writes about those same worlds. Her only hope in life is to reach one person with her work, the way so many others had reached her. As a TV addict and avid movie goer, her entire life is just one big research project, focused on generating innovative ideas for worlds that don’t exist anywhere other than in her sick, twisted mind.

Book preview

Chapter One

The Plane

The inside of the plane was deathly quiet. Not even the sounds of engine noise came through the extra thick walls. It looked like the inside of a 747, but most of the chairs had been removed. Plush carpeting ran throughout the room. The only exception was a stretch of tile flooring that ran around the bar that was against the wall. Large, fluffy clouds glided past the window, colored pink from the rising sun.

The five men that stood around the bar stared daggers at the window. They were wearing suits, though the jackets of each of the men seemed to be several sizes too large for them. This made them have appearances more akin to that of trench coats than suit jackets. None of them spoke as the pinkness started to fade, and night returned to the windows. Once they were certain that their plane was flying quickly enough, that they would be able to stay within darkness, they turned to each other.

When is construction going to be finished? one of them asked. He was the only one of them standing behind the bar, though he wasn't mixing drinks. None of the men seemed the least bit interested in the unopened bottles of alcohol on the counter.

Not soon enough for my tastes, another one of the men said. His voice was low, muffled, though it was clear that the other men had easily heard him. There was an edge of fear to his voice that betrayed the urgency of their plans.

Today wouldn't be soon enough for my tastes, another man said. We should have sent some people ahead of us, lay out the groundwork for this whole project before we even left.

It's not like we had much of a choice in the timing of our departure, the first one said. This will have to do for now. I wish we could keep more of us on the plane, but we need them in the field.

We can't live on the plane forever, a fourth one said. This one was off to the side, sitting on a stool as he leaned over the edge of the bar. He was wearing glasses, which were crookedly placed on his face. His head was resting on his fist as he looked down. Even with the corporation, with the construction and everything, fuel is going to become a problem eventually.

It's already a problem, said the second one. That was way too close.

We'll be able to get ahead of it this time around, the first one promised. Once we're over Japan, we should be closer to midnight. And they say you can't travel back in time.

You can't, said the fourth one. It'll be midnight tomorrow. We're just skipping over the days.

Well, that's the dangerous part, isn't it? asked the second one. As long as we avoid days, we'll be fine, right?

I don't think it's going to be that simple, the third one said. He won't be satisfied with us doing this for long.

He won't be satisfied at all if he knows we're missing, the fifth one said. It was the first thing he had said the entire time. The other four looked at him with a slight level of surprise, suggesting that he didn't speak often. His hushed, husky voice seemed to confirm that impression. We should have stayed.

We'd all be dead if we had, said the first one.

That's what they said, but I don't trust them. Neither should any of you.

You came with us, Ron. You didn't have to come.

Who else was going to keep you in line? Ron asked. I just wish the return trip was as easy.

As long as we don't run out of money, construction should be done in the next month or so, the fourth one said, answering the original question.

However, unless we can get a major influx of funds between then and now, we're going to run out of money in two weeks, the second one said. We could--

That's not going to happen, the first one said, automatically. We're not giving up on the plane. Without the five of us... I just don't want to leave anything to chance.

It's not leaving things to chance, the fourth one said. We chose them for a reason. We should be able to trust them.

Trust can only bring us so far, the first one said. And that isn't far enough in my opinion.

You just don't trust them, the third one said.

Should I? There was a reason why we were handling them the way we were back home. He didn't trust them any more than I do, and that's saying a lot.

He trusted them with everything, Ron said.

Yea, maybe that was the problem, the first one said.

Gabriel, we need to start trusting them at least a little, the fourth one said. Without this plane, we'll be able to make it all the way to completion on the money we already have. With it, we'll need to make another groundbreaking release. It'll be the only way that we can make enough money in time.

Why don't we just release the new model of the bands? the third one suggested. They really liked the bands.

The new models aren't ready, the fourth one said.

They'll have to be ready, Gabriel said. Would it be enough?

It might be, the second one said. Or we could be expecting too little from them.

Are you kidding? the third one said. After seeing the lines for the latest iPhone, can you really have such a high opinion of them? Ready or not, the new band is going to be a huge hit. Most of the new functions are already working, and the rest can be activated with a patch. Better yet, we can release a half version now, and another half version later, and double our profits.

Would that work? Gabriel asked the fourth one.

Hey, don't look at me. I don't do sales. Predicting human reactions is Raph's job.

Yea, the third one, Raph, said. And I'm telling you it'll work. They'll just lap it up, as long as the second half version comes out at least three months later.

Well, by then, we won't need to worry about money, the fourth one said. At least, not with respect to the project. We could just push those updates to the next model.

Well, sure, if you want to be all stingy about it, Raph said. I say we milk them for all they're worth.

Caution, Raph, Gabriel said. You're sounding an awful lot like our counterparts right now.

Well, maybe they're right about some things, Raph said. I mean, it's not like they have to hide who they are. They just go out in public in all their glory.

Because of a mistake, the fourth one said. Many of them wish they hadn't come out to the public like that. At least the ones that I've had to deal with since being here. They're having more than their fair share of problems because of it. Do you really think that they're going to let us complete construction if they knew why we were doing it?

Yes, Raph said. Because so many of them worship us already. If they knew we were here--

There will be enough problems without that level of involvement, Gabriel said. If they did find out, sure, some would worship us. Some might even help with construction. But more would cause problems. If they knew we were in talks with our counterparts, they would fight against us just as much as they do them. No, it's too dangerous to go public. We'll just have to make do with employing these people. If the second release will get us over the hump, then so be it. Let's put that in motion. Zach, see to it.

The fourth one nodded. He leaned back from the bar, picking up a book that had been resting on it beneath his supporting arms. Zach took one last look inside the book before clapping it closed. He nodded to each of the men in turn before heading off to an area behind the bar. Thick red currents hung down on either side of the bar, blocking off the other half of the cabin.

Gabriel watched as Zach left, before turning back to the others. As he continued the discussion, he took on a more hushed voice. Every once in a while, he would eye the curtains behind him. What about our missing brother? he asked.

There's still no word, the second one said. At this point...

I know, Gabriel said. He'll be just like the rest of them. I just hope that he did his part. That everything is set up for completion. The construction won't do us much good if we still have to worry about our counterparts. The war would just start all over again. And with our dwindling numbers, we don't stand a chance against them.

Now, see, I was actually thinking of another alternative to that, Raph said. At least, if it comes to it. Have you heard about the group Remember Sami?

Chapter Two

The Coffee Shop

Miranda, Howard yelled, jarring me out of my weird daydream. From his tone, it was clear that he had been calling my name multiple times before finally getting through to me. I looked around at the coffee shop a little as I tried to focus on reality. That was something that has become more and more difficult for me as of late.

Sorry, what? I asked. There weren't any customers waiting for me. Our two regulars were off in the opposite corners from each other. They glared across the room at each other as they both tried to write the next great American novel before the other did. Neither seemed the least bit interested in the half full mugs beside them. I glanced over to the coffee pots, making sure that those were full as well. Everything seemed in line for the mid-morning stretch between the morning commuters and the lunch rushes. It was the perfect time to daydream. But Howard still seemed annoyed with me for some reason.

I said, I was going to be training a new barista. He motioned towards the girl standing next to him. She was smiling from ear to ear, obviously oblivious to the soul sucking job that she had signed up for. Bubbly people were usually well equipped for the service industry, if they could keep that spirit through the whole process. I lost mine long about year three. But it wasn't like I had much of a choice in the matter.

Howard eyed the poor girl out of the corner of his eye, having taken a step backwards and out of her periphery. The balding man had always been just on the wrong side of pervy for me. Fortunately, I hadn't met him until after I had Becky. Something about a woman having a child completely turned him off. Him and a lot of men. Which was fine. It was something that happened often over the years. But she was my world and all I really needed to be happy.

He clenched his meaty hands together as he looked between the new girl's ass and me. I'd learn the new girl's name soon enough and probably forget it two seconds after she runs from the job screaming. But for the moment, she was just the new girl. I want to get her up to speed on everything before the next rush, Howard said.

Do you want me to do it? I'm sure you're awfully busy, what with running this whole place all by yourself.

That... won't be necessary, Howard said. His face fell at the thought of me taking all his fun, as he would put it. Why don't you... go head back into the store room and do inventory?

You're the boss, I said. I gave him a mocking salute as I took off my apron.

There wasn't much stock in the stock room; there wasn't much stock room. Plus, I had actually done the inventory less than a day earlier, just after closing the previous night. There was no sense in me actually doing the inventory again. However, I've known Howard long enough to know that do inventory is his code for make yourself scarce. I pitied the girl, but not enough to get between her and Howard. She'd need to learn soon enough how to hold off horny men, if she didn't know already. I promised myself that I'd keep an ear open for any screams, though the two amateur novelists would probably keep the activities from getting too out of hand.

Howard owned the small coffee shop, the only non-franchise place in town. He was too cheap to hire a proper manager, though I was one of the only two employees that ever lasted longer than a year in the place. That made me sort of his unofficial one. Unfortunately, that didn't mean better pay for me. Since Becky's father wasn't exactly in the picture, I could certainly use it.

Michael and I broke up soon after Becky was born. He sends along a check on occasion, though never enough to help with much. People would often tell me to go to court about it. But we were never married and I didn't want to run the risk of having him be a part of Becky's life. She had enough toxic people in her life from Howard. I just dread the thought of the day when she was old enough to be ogled by him.

That thought brought me up short on the way out of the main room. I should have gone back. I should have gotten between the two of them and done the training myself. But, as I looked back at the two of them, she was forcefully moving Howard's hand away from her side before he could even come close to placing it there. She gave him a scathing look that made it clear that his advances were unwanted. Yet, she still managed to keep her sunny demeanor through the entire interaction. This new girl seemed more capable of warding off Howard's advances than any girl that he's ever hired. And, believe me, I've seen them all.

With one last glance at the two of them, and then at our two regulars, I escaped from the overly dangerous situation out there to the relative safety of the storage room. After closing the door behind me, I pulled out the folding chair that I hid in the corner. I placed it down in the small stretch of open floor that was barely large enough to have it open when the door was closed. Howard never set foot inside the storage room, which made the place the best hiding spot in the store. Whenever work was slow, or Howard was training another new employee, I would slink back there to hide out, taking extra-long breaks whenever possible.

Not that I ever shrugged out of my work. When there was work to be done, customers to serve, coffee to make, things to clean, I did it. On the other hand, whenever I could, I'd just as quickly skip out to my hiding spot.

I eased down on the chair, making sure to do it slowly enough that the squeaks that it usually let out would be silent enough to not be heard outside. I fiddled with the fitness band on my wrist. It had been a stretch to buy it, and the corresponding one on Becky's wrist. But, after everything that had happened last year, with the demonic invasion, it was almost required by everyone. It gave me peace of mind when it probably shouldn't.

My hand tenderly rubbed the solid green light that was Becky's indicator. It was never anything but a solid green, showing that she was perfectly healthy, and that her own band was still on the grid. I knew, without needing to pull out my cell phone, that the app would show her as still being at John Henderson Elementary School. The school had only taken a month of the demands from the parents to buy their own hub, which kept the bands of all of the students online as long as they were there.

The tactile feel of the fitness band on my skin reminded me of that strange dream. They had been talking about a new version of the fitness band, as if they were the ones to release the first ones. Perhaps that would mean that the five of them were the mysterious leaders of Angel Corp, the main company that had been responsible for releasing the bands last year. That is, of course, assuming that the dream was real. That it was anything more than just a figment of my weird, wild, out of control imagination.

The daydreams had started soon after the demonic invasion. At first, I thought I was going crazy. I still haven't quite eliminated that as a possibility. Most of the time, they only hit me when I'm not doing anything. When I'm staring off into thin air during stretches between serving people, or when I'm trying to get to sleep. Only once did it hit me in the middle of something important, and that one down right scared the crap out of me. I dropped everything that day, called in sick to work, which I never did, and pulled Becky out of school so we could hide out at home. After the panic had subsided, I mostly wrote it off as being some weird maternal instinct, coupled with a report that had been on the radio that I was only half paying attention to when it was on. How else would I have known about the demonic terror attack that happened a few blocks away from the school? None of the other kids were hurt, and the activity was put down at the bank it took place at, so my reaction was completely unwarranted. Even if I knew that at the time, I still would have done it.

I settled back into the chair, closing my eyes as I tried to focus on the daydream. The memory of it was fading quickly. As it always did. Always just out of reach. Whatever it was that they were trying to tell me, if they were trying to tell me anything at all, I never seem to be getting the message. I tried to remember the sight of the inside of that plane, of the five brothers sitting around the bar. Their faces had all been in shadow, obscured from my vision, though the room had been bright. Nothing they had said made much sense to me, and I couldn't remember any of it, save that they mentioned the fitness bands.

And another brother, one that was missing.

What could that be about?

Chapter Three

The Hand Out

The bell rang outside in the store, signaling someone opening the door. Despite what Howard had said, I wasn't about to let him and the new girl handle a customer on their own. We might actually want some return business from them. Quickly, I folded the chair back up, stashing it in its usual place in the corner, before heading back out to the main room.

Howard glanced my way as I came out, a surprised look on his face. He didn't seem embarrassed in any way, and the new girl was fully clothed. So, I figured that I wasn't interrupting anything. The new girl was looking over at the new customer as he came in, almost jumping out of her skin as she eagerly awaited fulfilling his order.

I glanced over at the new customer, and could immediately tell he wasn't a customer. His face was covered with dirt. A pungent stench reached me before the door slid closed behind him. Though he was wearing a suit, it was completely disheveled, with a huge rip in one of the shoulders. It didn't seem to fit him all that well, which suggested to me that it wasn’t his. Despite this, there was something familiar about him. Something that I couldn't quite put my finger on, though I knew that he had never been in the store before. I tried to remember all the homeless people that would stumble into the store, looking for a hand out.

What can I do for you on this fine, wonderful day? the new girl asked. Her voice was a high soprano, and she seemed to hop up on her toes a little, as if suspended by wings that weren't there. With her short, blond hair, the image was almost complete, except that the t-shirt and jeans were far too human for the faery that she obviously thought she was.

I rolled my eyes, just waiting for a big huff to come from Howard. He never liked it when people came in when they so obviously had no ability to pay. Yet Howard almost seemed at a loss, standing next to the pixie. He obviously would have wanted to throw the man out on his ear, but the new girl's attitude towards him held him in place. He couldn't very well throw the man out without looking bad to the new girl. His two desires were at war with each other as he stood there, frozen. Fortunately, the homeless man saved him from having to make a decision.

Um, where am I? the man asked. His voice was a soft, high tenor, practically singing the four words.

You're at Howard’s Coffee Shop, I said, as I came over to the counter. Do you need us to call someone for you?

Like a shrink? Howard finished, under his breath. The new girl glared over at him, obviously hearing his comment.

Um... the man said again.

Aren't we always supposed to suggest one of our signature drinks? the new girl asked.

Yea, when the person can actually afford one, Howard said. Or, you know, at least pay for one.

Where... Why am I here? the man asked.

Does he have some kind of medical alert bracelet on? I asked. I was too far away from the man to see. The area behind the counter wasn't designed for more than two people to be back there at a time. I was still stuck in the little hallway that led back to the storage room.

A what? the new girl asked.

Usually, when people aren't supposed to be out on their own, they'll have an alert bracelet. He kind of seems like the type of person that shouldn't be out on their own.

Bracelet? the man asked. He pulled up the sleeves on his jacket, revealing tanned, thick arms. While there were no alert bracelets on him, there were several scars running all up and down both arms. Those all seemed to have healed several years ago. No bracelet. The man seemed to be getting more lucid the longer we spoke with him.

However, Howard was having no more of that. That's it, he said, in a huff. I want you out of my store.

What? the man asked. He seemed stunned by the reaction. This probably surprised me the most of all. He seemed like the type to get thrown out of a lot of places.

Out, Howard said again. He pushed his way past the new girl, flipping open the folding section of the counter to come out from behind it. The new girl stepped aside, into the area that Howard had just vacated, and I took her place. The two of us just stood there, shocked, as we watched Howard chase the man out. When he didn't move fast enough for him, Howard grabbed the broom from where I had left it earlier, brandishing it like a sword.

Seeing him in that pose must have snapped something into place in the homeless man. In the blink of an eye, he jumped forward. One hand went to his belt, while the other grabbed the impromptu sword out of Howard's grip. He twirled it a few times over head, at first one handed, then the hand that went to his belt joined in. With a hard, overhanded chop, the homeless man swung the broom down, hitting Howard square on the base of the neck.

Howard went down, hard, crumpling into a ball at the base of one of the tables. The homeless man stood over his prone body, weapon in hand, glaring down at the man and looking very much like he wanted to kill him. Seeing that, I just reacted.

Howard always kept a shotgun beneath the counter, for obvious reasons. I had only felt the need to use it once, when a rat the size of Texas came down the back hallway and jumped at me. That time, I didn't exactly shoot the weapon, so much as use it to crush the thing beneath the grip. I didn't think that was going to work this time, though.

I cocked the gun, like they always showed in movies, pointing the barrel at the homeless man. The long barrel made it easy to aim the thing, though it probably wouldn't have made a difference in the enclosed space. I kept wanting to lean across the counter, to use that as a support, but it was too low beneath me to be much help.

The man stayed his hand in mid swing when I cocked the gun. He stared over at me, looking up from his lowered position. It almost seemed like I could watch as the gears ran in his head. His eyes were locked on the gun in my hands, the broom still at the ready. The broom wouldn't have done much to block my shot, and he was a good ten feet away from me. He was probably trying to calculate the chances of him jumping across at me, to wrest the gun from my hands before I could get the shot off. Though I wouldn't have banked on hitting him, on getting a killing shot in, I knew that there was no way he would be able to get to my side before I pulled the trigger.

You're going to want to leave, I said, through gritted teeth, as I stared daggers at the man. Now.

The word and the stare seemed to snap him out of whatever spell he was under. He stood up straight, looking between the weapon in his hand, the one in mine, and the man at his feet. He seemed just as surprised by the situation as I had been when it first happened. Slowly, he placed the broom on the floor, his hands going up and over his head. I... he started to say, backing up a few steps and away from my injured boss. Sorry.

With that, he burst out of the door and into the morning sunlight. I kept the gun on him until he disappeared around the corner. Even then, I held it in place, just on the off chance that he would come back. At that point, I was shaking so much that I didn't think I could put it down anyway.

What the hell was that? Howard asked, from his place on the floor. He was staring out the door, after the fleeing assailant.

Well, what did you expect? the new girl said. You went after a war vet with a broom.

A war vet? Howard asked.

Yea, obviously. My dad knows a bunch that are worse than that one was. I wonder if he's going to be alright. Maybe someone should go after him.

Are you serious? Howard asked. That dude was crazy. Isn't anyone going to ask if I'm alright?

Miranda? the new girl asked.

Huh? I said.

You can put the gun down now.

Oh. Even after she told me that, it took a couple of moments for me to be able to move. My arms were sore from holding the gun up the entire time, clutching it with all my strength. The gun went down, heavily, onto the counter. I jumped at the sound. The gun didn't go off, but it sounded like it did in my head.

So, I'm having an exciting first day. Does this happen often?

No, I have to say this is the first time for me, I said. As the shock slowly wore off, I looked down at Howard, still lying on the floor beneath the table. Normally, I would have thought him capable of scaring the hell out of people like that homeless man did to me. But the shocked look on Howard’s face seemed to contradict that impression.

I think I need a new pair of pants, he said.

The typing of the two competing novelists became so fevered that the sound filled out the empty air behind that statement. They both seemed livid about the action happening so close at hand, yet neither seemed the least bit interested in helping us in any way.

Yea, good luck with that, I muttered to myself. I shook my head in disapproval at the novelists. Yet, some part of me wondered which would make a better story about the event.

Chapter Four

Becky

The rest of the day was, thankfully, uneventful. The new girl fumbled around with most of the orders she had been taking during the lunch rush, to the point where she was breaking out in tears by the end of it. Howard, who had managed to find a spare pair of pants in his office upstairs, spent most of the day hiding out up there. This, of course, left the new girl's training up to me. It was clear that he had already lost interest in his attempts to get inside her pants. This probably had to do with him needing to change his own.

Fortunately, Howard had gotten over the encounter by 3. Or at least enough to take over for me. I had the earlier shift that day. This left me free to do the most important, and most fun, thing I get to do almost every day. Walk my kid home from school.

The school was only a few blocks away from the coffee shop, which made things easier. I came up in front of the building just as the last bell sounded. The ringing was loud enough to be heard all the way to the street. As the echoing sound faded, I nodded towards the other parents who were waiting in front of the building. They had all been there long before me. Most of those parents didn't have to work, with their partners making enough money for them to be full time parents. Or, at least, that's how I think of them in my head. They had a tendency to look down on me, the single parent. It wasn't like we were on speaking terms. It made arranging playdates and birthday parties difficult. But my kid was cool enough, or weird enough, depending on your point of view, that she was above all of that.

Less than a minute after I got there, the swarm of kids came flooding out of the front doors. Most of them headed over to the long line of buses that ran along the street, heading off into the distance. A few of them went to the even longer line of cars, all waiting with their engines running, that stood attentively across the street. The crosswalk attendants were quick to get into place, blocking what little traffic was coming by at the time, holding them in place as the group of kids made their way across the street. Fewer still was the group heading for the parents standing there, waiting to walk their kids home.

I watched the entire mad rush of kids. My eyes scanned the crowd, trying to spot my Becky. She wasn't hard to see. Her strawberry blonde hair was different enough from the rest of the horde as to be readily visible in it. Yet, even as the crowd faded, the large collection of kids assimilated into their respective commute options, there was no sign of her. My hand traced the steady green light on my band, as I tried to patiently wait for her arrival. I didn't start to worry until after the swarm faded into the sunset, with still no sign of my daughter.

Then, finally, the familiar form emerged from the front doors. The pink ballerina outfit that she had insisted on wearing was smeared with mud. Despite this, she was wearing the broadest smile that I think I had ever seen on her. Once she spotted me, she rushed my way, her arms out to her sides. Her lunch box dangled precariously from her left hand, swinging back and forth in the wind from her mad rush. I took a few steps towards her, just as she was passing by the outer wall that ran the perimeter of the school yard. As I scooped her up in my arms, the lunch box fell down, right between my shoulder blades. It was a welcome pain in light of my daughter in my arms.

Hey, Mommy, she said, loudly, right into my ears.

Hey, little one, I said, just as loudly in hers. She gave a little giggle, the vibration tickling me as I held her close. I breathed her in like my own personal drug, one much cleaner than anything else on the market. Despite the fact that I was the parent, I felt safe in those arms. I needed that reassurance, that palpable solidarity of her form against mine to finally calm myself after the interaction that morning. It was like I was holding my breath all day long until I knew she was safe in my arms. Until I knew my world was secure from the strange man that scared me half to death.

How was your day? she asked. She pulled her head off of my shoulders, using her midget strength to push against my chest so she could look into my eyes.

Hey, that's my line, I joked, as I reluctantly let her go. She slid down casually onto the ground in front of me. Her hand found mine on the way down. We both set off together, heading further away from the coffee shop, and the weird figure of the man that I had burned into my brain. Mine was... strange. I looked down at her, at the mud that was on her dress, and was suddenly on my shirt as well. And I see yours was too.

Mary called me weird, she said, as way of explanation.

Well, you are weird, I said, teasing her. How exactly does that explain the mud?

Ummm....

Rebecca? I said. I flinched when I found myself using her full name for emphasis. It was something I always found annoying when my mom did it to me. Do I need to make a call to someone's parent?

It was just a little mud, Mommy, she said. She played up the lisp that she had gotten over years ago, that she still pulled out when she wanted to weasel out of being in trouble. No one got hurt.

And would Mary have a similar opinion of the interaction? I asked.

No, she said, abashed. I can't have them thinking I'm weird.

Why not? What's wrong with being weird? I'm weird. You come from a long line of weird women, kiddo. There's no avoiding it at this point. That's no excuse for throwing around mud.

Oh, I didn't throw any mud, she said.

Oh?

No, I pushed her into the mud. It went everywhere.

Rebecca, you can't go around pushing people just because you don't like what they say about you. People can be mean sometimes. It's just how they are.

But she pushed me first, she said.

That's... That doesn't matter. I let her take a few steps ahead of me, still holding her hand as I examined the back of her dress. Sure enough, that was completely covered with mud. It was even in her hair. I was going to have to insist that she have a bath that night. That was not going to go over well with her. You shouldn't have pushed her.

But you're always saying that I should stand up to bullies. How else am I supposed to stand up to them?

Well... I trailed off as I tried to think of a non-violent way to handle bullies. They always say that you should stand up to them, that most of them will back down when you don't rise to their bait. But, just how exactly does one do that without becoming a bully themselves. You could just walk away, I said after a while.

You mean run away, she said.

Or get a teacher, I said, knowing that would probably make things worse. There are ways to handle these things without having to rise to violence. As I said the words, I was reminded of the gun in my hands, of aiming it at that homeless vet. Could I have handled that better? Was there a way for that not to have ended in violence? It wasn't like I shot him, but does that make it any better? There are going to be times in your life where things are out of your control, I said. It's how you handle those times that makes you who you are. Who do you want to be?

I want to be just like you, she said. She smiled up at me, her grin spreading from ear to ear.

Nice try, young lady. That's not going to get you out of trouble. Her grin quickly fell into a frown, then a pout, but her mouth never narrowed through the transformation. She wasn't fooling me in the least.

What about your day? she asked, once it was clear that I wasn't going to melt to her powers.

Oh, you know, the same old usual. Howard has a new trainee that's going to be gone in a week.

Is he going to sleep with her? she asked, innocently enough.

I stopped in mid-stride, pulling her to a halt next to me. I stood there for a moment, wracking my brain as I tried to think of ever talking to her about such things. Where did you hear a thing like that? I asked, wondering just where she absorbs some of the things she says.

I don't know, she said, shrugging dramatically.

Don't ever talk about things like that, I said.