Devil and Angel

Chapter One

"What? Yes!" Vivia Hart jumped up off of the white couch and gasped. She was finally going to have another chance to make it into the large movie star world without being shadowed by the other costar.

"Sit down Vivia," Mrs. Hart murmured through the side of her mouth frantically, gently tugging a corner of Vivia's pink ruffled shirt. Vivia blushed, sat down, and nonchalantly sipped her lemon iced tea. 

Mrs and Mr Hart looked back at Andrew Devandy and waited for the agent to say more. "Well, this is a new opportunity for you, since your costar isn't as popular as Emma Watson and such," the 40 something-ish man fumbled with his blue and black striped tie. 

Mrs. Hart tangled her thin fingers together and set them on her lap dantily. "What, exactly, is this movie about?" she asked, staring intensly at Mr. Devandy. The man took a small white piece of cloth out of his fancy coat pocket and wiped his bald head, now gleaming with a little sweat. Vivia felt bad for the man. 

"Well, it's called Devil and Angel, you, my dear Vivia, being the angel, and their parents are best friends but the two 14 year old girls hate each other.  One magical summer they go to a lake house and find a spirit who tells them they must overcome their hatred, yada yada," Mr. Devandy circled his big hand in the air to show that it was the usual overcoming-hate-into-friendship story and then put away the cloth. "So then in the end they save the lake and so on," he finished starting to pace on the white fluffy rug in front of the fireplace in the Hart mansion's living room.

"It's perfect!" Vivia exclaimed with excitement, about to jump up again. Mrs. Hart held her down firmly. 

"Shh!" the three adults hissed in unison. Vivia raised an eyebrow but was quiet. 

Mr. Hart set down his white coffee mug onto the glass coffee table and thought for a moment. "Who, might I ask, is playing the devil?" He asked, saying "devil" like he was saying "earwax." 

"Um, it's... Well..." Mr. Devandy started. He whipped the piece of cloth out again and wiped furiously at his forehead. His dark brown eyes darted across the floor nervously. What could be so wrong about saying who teh costar was? Vivia thought. 

"Yes?" Mr. Hart asked, raising his brown eyebrows in question. The room was silent for a few seconds.

"Okay, it’s Elaina Maxwell,” he sputtered out quickly. Mrs. Hart drew in a short gasp and breath, her manicured hand flying to her mouth. She looked pale. So that's where I get my drama-ness in movies from! Vivia thought, watching her mom's acting (?) skills. Mrs. Hart starting breathing randomly in short spurts of air. 

        Mr. Hart flew into a rage, his face turning red, his breathing hard. “That soul sucker of a girl? She’s one bad-“ Vivia blocked her pierced ears from hearing the horrible swears that followed. Once her dad just stood there, steaming, Vivia removed her hands from her ears, ready to cover them again if her dad opened his mouth. 

“Think of what an influence that girl might have on my poor dear!” Mrs. Hart agreed, wrapping her arms around her daughter. Vivia grimaced and squirmed, embarrassed that her mother could be so annoying, then overly protective. 

“Mom!” Vivia squeezed out of her mom’s tight hold and looked at the scared-looking agent, who was fiddling with his blue tie. “Okay! Mr. Devandy, it’s okay, I’ll live and I’ll be in your movie,” she addressed the now comfortable man. “Mom, dad, I’ll be fine! She can’t be that bad-“ once she saw her mom and dad opening up their mouths to speak, she rolled her blue eyes and also opened her mouth to protest to whatever they had to day. Mr. Devandy winced slightly, predicting his annoyance at the next few sentences. 

Mrs. Hart crossed her arms and stood up. "Andy, I know you have been good to us all these years but is this really the right choice for my dear little Vivia?" she asked, silently pleading him to change his mind. 

"I'm sorry Janelle, this is the only major availible job in the works," Mr. Devandy apologized, bracing himself for some shouting.

"Well then give her a smaller job! Or no job at all! We'll live, just not with this horrible brat on the set!" Mr. Hart shouted, throwing his hands up into the air. Mrs. Hart went over to the white one-seater couch Mr. Hart was sitting in, and patting her husband's shoulder, comforting him slightly. He rested his hands on the arms of the couch and drew in a large breath. 

"I agree, although Vivia," Mrs. Hart looked at her daughter, who was currently doing puppy eyes at her parents. "If you really want to do this..." she hesitated. 

Vivia clasped her hands together and grinned. "Yes, I do! Please mom!" she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. 

"Then I guess..." Mrs. Hart looked at Mr. Hart again. He looked away, pretending to be more interested in the fine work on the fireplace mantle piece than the conversation at hand. He shook his head, still not looking back.

"I'll take it!" Vivia answered, standing up.  Mr. Hart clenched his fists. "Look, dad, I know about Elaina Maxwell. I know about her reputation. Maybe it's like the movie? Maybe I'll change that. Just give me a chance, okay?" she asked, talking to the back of her dad's head. 

Mr. Hart's head swiveled around and he pressed his hands together in what seemed like he was praying. "Fine. But if you get hurt in any way-" he started. 

"I'll be fuh-ine! I won't let her get to me!" Vivia announced. She turned, smiled, and strutted out of the living room, head held high.