Jester...and the Gang

“Mom!” The little girl screeched. “My popsicle’s melting!” 

“Eat it!”    

The little girl jerked her head down and looked at her popsicle. Her mouth trembled, and a loud whine was about to spill until she saw the drips hit the greyish black asphalt under her tan sandals. Seeing them not melt into the ground but actually become little bubbles, the girl squatted and studied each one. She looked back at her popsicle and then watched some more of it color the asphalt. Weird!

“Honey—”

“Mom, just hold on!” The girl begged, and her mother smiled and shrugged to her best friend.

“Now,” the little girl moved her popsicle around, seeing whether the drips would have to be aligned in order to form a picture or a word. With no attempts won, the girl moved her popsicle to one spot. The drips just splattered. “Hmm…” She let the popsicle fall through her unclasped hand. Then she got an idea to drag it all over the asphalt, it making a rainbow of red, white and blue—not just melt and blend into the blackness like it would if this popsicle weren’t a…magical one?

“I wonder…” The girl grabbed and wrote with it. Her name perfectly displayed as if the popsicle were a paintbrush, the girl marveled at her work: C-H-A-R-L-I-E spelled all in red, white and blue in the same order of colors as her Rocket Pop—C-H-A in red, L in white and I-E in blue. As the girl giggled to herself and clenched her hands in excitement, she smiled and widened her eyes at her mother. But she was still jabbing on to her best friend about something like candy corn and Charlie’s costume last Halloween. Both women’s heads bent close to each other, the curly brunette bobbing her head and leaning towards Mrs. Reds. Mrs. Reds’ short shock of a ponytail went up and down like a level when being used to pump water—  

“Never mind. I got to concentrate now!” The girl went back to her fascination of words and magical dessert, the words still glistening in the hot summer sun. She rubbed her forehead and sighed as she muttered to herself about how hot it was and that her hand couldn’t even satisfy her forehead’s itch because it just slid coolly across her forehead from the amount of sweat each body part had built up from spending time in such an intense heat out here at the Kidz Park. “Oh well.” The girl grinned at her name and stepped up to the first half, C-H-A-R, crouching down. Taking a finger, she jabbed the R. It just turned her finger red. She studied it. “That’s weird.” She touched the whiteness, and this color leaked onto the red up to her cuticle. She then went for the blue—I and E. The I too released some blueness onto the finger. It was like the girl from A Bad Case of Stripes—only this girl—Charlie—wasn’t completely painted, just her finger.                 

She ran it along the hot pavement, gaping in awe as it literally trailed red, white and blueness. “Wow!” The girl went right back to the “paint” and did it again. And again. Once blue, red and white thankfully out-colored some of the ugly black, the girl squealed and jumped up and down, excitement coursing through her little body. After pumping the air with fists, she actually threw herself carefully down onto the ground and scrambled over to the middle of her name.      

Plunging her hand into the L, the girl withdrew her cerulean hand and pressed it onto a patch of black. Once stacked on top of each other like a Fourth of July sandwich, the girl grabbed this strangely cool design, ripping it right off the asphalt and carrying it with her. “Mom, Mom!” She cried, dashing over to the nodding blond.  

“Yes…” The girl’s mother turned towards her daughter, who held up her sandwich. “What is it?” Her eyes jerked over to the thing the girl was standing there showing her.

“Huh?” The mother’s best friend wondered, and the girl told her. Both women furrowed their eyebrows, looked at and then faced each other. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”  

“Yeah!” The girl’s mother emphasized, leaned over and whispered something to her. The other woman bent forward, nodding her head understandingly and then crinkled her face into a funny smile.

“Honey.” The girl’s mother faced her daughter and folded her lips into her mouth. She pointed at the girl’s still raised hand, struggling not to smile. “Do you know that your little creation just melted all over your hand?” The girl looked over and stared in confusion as her hand was dripping red, white and blue from the sticky hand sandwich. Weird—it was right there. This place was in the shade, with huge oak trees shading the benches on which her mother and her best friend sat and talked for a long time.

“Uh…I don’t know why!” The girl panicked, her face contorted. She blinked and then dashed away, leaving her mother and her best friend to assumedly stare at each other, bewildered. When the girl returned to her little popsicle drawing world, she tried the handprint again but went with leaving it there on the asphalt for the now scorching sun to melt it. Maybe the rain will wash it away. After all, the girl thought, maybe all this activity will just wash away. Like my dream of becoming a ballerina.

The girl looked at the melting popsicle just letting the sticky juice run down like sweat sliding down a hot person’s body. It just kept dripping but never melted. She watched the juice drip and form little bubbles. But the girl lost interest in the popsicle magic and dropped it again, letting it just stay on the ground for someone else to pick up. Splattering, the girl’s treat lay there, the sun cruelly torturing it with its merciless heat. But the girl felt bad for the popsicle, so she picked it back up.  

“Wierdo. Never seen a girl be so fascinated with a popsicle before!”

The girl jumped a little and jerked her head up. It was Clarity and her gang of third grade girls behind and beside her. Samantha flipped her thick, black blanket of curls behind her and smirked—albeit a little hesitantly—at the girl. They strutted across the sidewalk and halted uninvited right in front of her. Chasity shot her thick arm out and grabbed the popsicle before the girl could react. She brought it really close to her freckly nose, narrowed her hazel eyes and then jerked it back in the girl’s face. “Take it!” She snapped, flinging it to the ground. Apparently, she didn’t notice it was a magical popsicle—it just lay there, not melting. The girl smirked and grabbed it quickly.

“You guys don’t know something I do.”

“Yeah?” Chasity threw her hands on her white skirted hips. “What’s that?”  

“That this popsicle is magical.” She jerked a finger and told them to watch as the juice just spread out, red, white and blue making it look like it was bleeding. The girls all watched for a second and then one of them giggled, causing some to turn around and shake her head. Then all of them started chortling, Clarity bending in half, tears almost pouring down her red face. After squeezing her eyes shut from guffawing for maybe an hour, the leader finally pried herself off the hot asphalt and leered, a mean smile stretched out before the girl to accept as the symbol of superiority. The girl just retried her popsicle.   

“You’re six!” One girl from the back emerged and shoved the girl. She collapsed but, remembering her popsicle, she put a foot out and then kicked with the other so that it made a rainbow in the air and smacked down, the girl twisting and gyrating so her body turned and then spun around again and again. Standing on two feet with the popsicle still in her hand, she grinned at the other girl’s hanging mouths, raised eyebrows and popping eyes and then told the popsicle, “Let’s go!”   

As if they were best buddies, the girl dashed over to the huge jungle gym full of metal swings, a rope bridge and a winding staircase of chainmail railings and creaky wooden stairs. She let her popsicle know about those mean girls and that they wouldn’t leave her alone. The girl headed for the creaky wooden stairs. Winding her way around one of the poles, the girl creaked to the top. Jumping up and down and grinning at her never melting popsicle, she looked back. But the stairs weren’t creaky and wooden anymore. Fear slowly closed in, paralyzing the little girl almost completely. She shifted to the railings. Her hand touched a stone wall that curved on both sides of the winding stone steps like that of a medieval castle or…  

No, just a medieval castle. Because “that’s where I am!” The little girl gaped in astonishment as she took in the towering walls on either side of her tiny frame and the stairs that had once been wooden and creaky. And attached to a park’s jungle gym.

The girl gripped her popsicle stick, clutching it tightly. Suddenly, the stairs and walls were replaced with pitch darkness. The girl, breathing heavily and inching along her stair towards the wall, pressed herself against it. As if on cue, the popsicle illuminated, its red, white and blue colors piercing the darkness like a candlelight. This kind gesture of the seemingly human popsicle did comfort the girl, but she was still very scared and wished her mommy would come to rescue her. When nothing happened, the girl slowly eased herself away from the wall and looked at the glowing popsicle. She busied herself wondering how the popsicle was just giving off some light without a light bulb. Where was it coming from? How’d it know everything was dark? Was it automatic—whenever darkness appeared it’d shine its bizarre luminescence?

The girl, after a while, waited for some lamp or candle to shine some light in here. Some moments passed. The girl yelled. No one answered. She screamed. Not even Clarity snickered back. “Where am I?” She pressed her free arm around herself and retreated back to the wall. Holding out the popsicle that was still running juice, the girl closed her eyes. It didn’t work well. She opened them and glared at the so-called popsicle. “Well, you’re not doing anything but shining your colors!” She grasped it even tighter and forced herself not to abandon it—she had this sinking feeling the popsicle did nothing but glow and melt, glow and melt, even if it did just be a popsicle. The girl wondered: until when? It actually did melt one day?  

But the girl, clutching the popsicle and telling it that it wasn’t her friend as it just was a popsicle, flung it from her hand. The popsicle fell to the second stair up. It lay there, glowing. Just glowing. And glowing. “Stupid thing!” The girl scolded it and then stepped quickly but carefully down the stairs. When she squinted at the darkness and halted herself, she looked back and raced back up the stairs.

“Popsicle!” She yelled, apologizing and simultaneously feeling weird about this process. But the more she climbed, the more the darkness seemed to stay where it was: cold, cruel and hurtful, like Clarity and her mean friends. Cold because the girl was alone, and she wanted a comforting hug from her loving mother. Cruel because she couldn’t find the darn popsicle. And hurtful because she wasn’t guilty of instantly flicking the lights off. “I’m sorry!” She tried.

She took maybe two steps, then hurtled over three. The girl would never know, nor did she really. All she wanted was to find her friend the popsicle. Once she felt she had gotten to the spot she had left it, she searched the darkness, moving her hands and arms like she would while swimming. Her hand’s palm suddenly started glowing. “Oh, there it is!” The girl snatched it up, but the popsicle wiggled away from her. “Hey, wait up!”  

The popsicle floated before her as it lead her downstairs, its glow revealing just enough light so the girl could hop down every step and use the wall to catch herself if she tripped or fell. The girl had gone down some time and asked the popsicle whether they were getting close to a door or a gate or something leading them out of this place. It answered by brightening and dimming repeatedly.     

The girl sensed that it was answering and said quietly, “Oh.” Then she saw something of a front door mat that said, Welcome. The floating popsicle stick flew over to the door knob and went up and down. The girl got the hint to open it and so she did. Struggling to move the brass knob, the girl tried both hands, leaning so that her body would give more weight to the situation and she would have a better grip on the handle. Without hesitating, the girl gripped it and slid both hands. But both hands slid right off, the girl falling to the stone floor and somersaulting over onto her feet again. She jumped back up and twisted around, but the floating popsicle kept going from her right hand to the wooden door before them. “Oh!” The girl made a fist and rapped her tiny knuckles on the echoing wood.

“Hello?”

A slight growl echoed a little and the girl blinked rapidly and stared at the glowing popsicle. It shone brightly, illuminating and fading again and again. The girl let her fear dim a little but she wrapped her arms around herself and pulled her head in. Maybe if I wish myself out of here, I’ll be free! She did, whispering the words, but nothing happened.

Suddenly, the door split wide open and a horn with red and white stripes appeared. The girl gawked at it, too stunned to move. It moved from side to side like it was talking to the popsicle, but then a pair of horse nostrils and then a voice.

“Come on in!” It invited. “Hold on first—” As the girl backed up, galloping came closer and closer until a mini explosion of the wooden door sent slivers and pieces of wood smashing against the walls and stairs and sailing right over the girl’s head. Then the rest of the horse showed itself to the girl. She stared up at it, mouth hanging open, eyes filled with awe and wonder as to whether this unicorn was real or she was dreaming. The girl quickly checked her surroundings, blinking a few times and then looking back at the ugly white fur of the horned horse.

The girl narrowed her eyes and stretched her neck, deciding whether the horn was really candy. “Is that…licorice and icing?”

“Yes.” The unicorn bobbed its head and then walked through the destroyed door. “Let’s go. We have much to do.” The girl scrambled up and somehow found herself able to climb onto the horse’s bare back. Once the horse had returned in front of the stream hosting a pebbly beach, some fallen trees, huge craters of jagged, pointy rock, massive tree stumps and little waterfalls with white water rushing over and eroding asphalt-speckled rocks, the girl asked the unicorn what they had to do.

“We have to make peace with these animals.”

The girl surveyed the drop-off before them and saw with despair and doubt that she couldn’t possibly face three snarling, teeth-baring wolves, seven tongue-flickering milk snakes, some prowling, growling panthers and a couple of hissing bucks. All of them glowered menacingly at her and some started threatening the unicorn with horribly intimidating snarls and bitingly mean words. But he stretched his neck and glowered back. At least that’s what the girl imagined her new friend doing.

“Who are they?” She interrupted, pulling her neck in and looking at each one and then narrowing her eyes in distaste. These animals looked—and probably were—worse than their owners. Clarity and her gang of friends must have used the forest to really show the girl how much they didn’t like her. Or they just didn’t have the courage to stand up to the girl and so used their pets to finish her off. But why? Did Clarity really want the girl to believe the girl wasn’t that much of a weakling despite the amount of bullying and name-calling she received in the lunch line, out at recess and on the school bus? Every. Single. Day?

“Your friends’ pets!” The unicorn stamped a hoof and snorted, air puffing from it in angry huffs. “They have come to destroy us!”

“Like that door?” The girl widened her eyes and threw her arms around his ugly white neck. “I don’t want to be here!”

“I’ll help you!”

The girl remained quiet and then straightened up. “How?”

The unicorn curved his neck and looked up at the girl. “Call me Jester. I’m here to help you.”

“Okay…” The girl took a couple of deep breaths and asked, “Are these your ex-friends?”

“No. They’re your bullies’ pets.”

The girl didn’t want it to be real. Bullies…like Clarity and her gang! She gasped and situated herself, clutching Jester’s red, orange and yellow mane and demanded, “I’m ready!”

Jester reared up, announcing, “We’re ready!” Immediately, the animals all slithered, lunged and stampeded towards Jester and the girl, the snakes baring fangs, wolves snapping killer teeth and the other animals showing off their attack methods with malice and greed. Jester’s deadly sharp horn headed right for them, sending a couple animals sliding towards the creek.  

They weren’t defeated.

But the unicorn skidded to a halt.

She asked.