Sheila could not get along with anyone. Not her mother, her father--or the girls at school. They were intolerable. She could not stand to be around them, so she turned inward. To her books. To her own devices. And she became a ghost, unnoticed and ignored. She could not survive the torment of being humiliated and learned to become her own best friend.

She kept to herself, read her books, and studied the small creatures of her mother's garden. She enjoyed the deaths of the insects that became ensnared in spiderwebs, so she fed the arachnids, grasshoppers and small bugs. Grasshoppers in particular deserved to die. Hideous maws that were in constant motion, their nasty green spittle stained and burned. Insects soon became dull entertainment, and Sheila searched for larger prey.

From the ground, the door of the haymow appeared low, but from the open door, Sheila felt drawn to lean forward--the ground below seemed to recede, and mesmerized, she almost fell. She caught herself and gasped, as a sense of place took hold. Voices down in the bower floated up and Sheila cringed. It was Candace and Cheryl. Two cretins who only wanted to show off. Sheila's eyes darted around. She needed to hide.

"Sheila! We know you're up there! Come down and see what we have! Your mother told us where you are! Come on down, Sheila!" Cheryl's high-pitched tone grated, irritated, and Sheila cringed.

"Hurry, Sheila! Please?" Candace sounded excited. This piqued Sheila's curiosity and she thought of going down. But it would just be some stupid girl thing. Yesterday, Candace had stolen her mother's lipstick and used it at school. Sheila refused to comment, but had called her a clown in her head. She stayed still, and hoped they would leave.

"Sheila! We know you're there! Come on! See what we have!" Giggles ensued. Sheila felt her face redden. Laughter was usually aimed at her, and she was certain this was another prank. Another joke at her expense.

"We're coming up, Sheila! Say something! Here we come!" Rage took hold, and the embarrassment flooded back. All the hideous jokes ... the insinuations. She stood and moved to the entrance of the loft.

Beaming faces, like cherubs, appeared. Sheila felt like she looked. An ominous thundercloud about to unleash a twister. The smiles turned up-side down.

"What's wrong, Sheila? We have the photographs! Don't you want to see?" Cheryl advanced. Coy, and sure, she pulled the envelope from her pinafore.

Candace stood behind her friend, her eyes wide with anticipation.

"Here. Here's yours. Do you like it? Your dress is so pretty, Sheila. A bit dowdy, but you should be proud of your portrait."

Sheila raged inside, but stood firm. A statue of humiliation, she became aware that she hated her mother for making her wear the dress. Even though, at the time it had felt right. The dress had belonged to her grandmother.

"And here's ours. Do you like ours, Sheila? Our dresses are alike. We're really sisters, you know. Not really, but we say we are. So we dress alike. Your dress looks old-fashioned, Sheila. But it's okay. Don't you like our dresses, Sheila? Ours came from the store. Not hand-made. Mother says hand-sewn and hand-me-downs are in poor taste. Don't you think so, Sheila?" The coy smiles turned to grins, and the evil clowns laughed.

Time stood still as Sheila reached for the pictures. She wanted to shred the portraits. And shove both girls out the loft's door. Every fiber in her body screamed, 'Do it! Do it!' ... but she hesitated. Her grandmother's voice over-rode her anger. "Remember, Sheila dear. Revenge is a dish that's best served cold." She smiled and pretended to look at the photos. But tears clouded the images. Sly giggles cut deep gashes.

Wrong is wrong, and right is right. Granddad had a few sayings of his own. The taunts would cease, along with the rancid breath of the two demons. They thudded on the hard ground, and Sheila smiled for real. She felt alive, as if a great weight had lifted off her back.

The house smelled of her mother's fried chicken. Sheila was never late for dinner.

"Did your little friends find you, Sheila dear?" Her mother, preoccupied and bright, didn't notice the difference in her daughter. She didn't see the light in Sheila's eyes ... or the darkness of her soul.

"No, Mother, I must have missed them. But it's okay. I'll see them at school." She daintily picked out the biggest breast, ladled gravy over it, and took a huge bite out of a hot biscuit. For the first time in years, Sheila had a ravenous appetite.

Dusk blanketed the barn lot, and the furtive coyotes stayed in the shadows, watching--and waiting patiently for their midnight feast.