Devil at My Door

    There's a devil at my door. He stands there waiting quietly to jump out and trip me up. But this time he will not succeed. He shrinks into miniture form and hops on my shoulder as I walk through school that morning. My "friend" Rebecca looks at me in the hallway, up and down, snickers and asks me if I got my shoes from a thrift store. The devil sitting, wating on my shoulder says:
    "Rebecca, go away your so ugly, you did your blonde highlights with peroxide and you stuff your bra."
  But I think I forgot to mention there was also an angel on my other shoulder. This angel speaks in a sweet-as-honey voice:
    "Rebecca's parents just got divorced and her mother is trying to pay bills, work and take care of her 3 children with Rebecca getting ignored in the whirlwind. Her mom couldn't afford to let her get her hair done at a salon so she did it herself."
  Almost without thinking I shake both my shoulders as if to drive away both these invisible voices. The devils words fought behind my lips as the feeling of revenge began to wash over me. My mind is blank as I began to contemplate what to say back to Rebecca. The angel's voice ripples through my head and I smile at Rebecca, her eyes awaiting my catty remark that she knows will start an argument.
    "I really cant be late for English, Rebecca" I say cheerfully as I hold my head high and walk away down the hallway towards my English class.