The front door clicked shut as Susan, Frank, and Manny headed off for their weekend at Rockin’ Rapids. The second the car pulled away, Rodrick sprinted to the living room, launching himself onto the couch with a victorious yell.

“Showtime,” he muttered, whipping out his phone. He immediately started texting everyone he knew: Party at the Heffleys. Tonight.

You were already there, curled up on the other end of the couch with your legs tucked under you. You’d come earlier to help set up, stringing cheap lights across the walls and pushing furniture to the side. You smirked at Rodrick as his fingers flew across his screen.

“You’re gonna get in so much trouble,” you teased.

Rodrick shrugged, not looking the least bit concerned. “Worth it. Best party of the year—and my girl gets front row seats.” He winked, and you rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away.

Later that afternoon, Greg shuffled into the living room with a giant bowl of pretzels and plopped it on the coffee table. He glanced around at the setup—the lights, the speakers, the stacks of plastic cups—and then frowned at Rodrick.

“Your party better be good,” Greg said flatly.

Rodrick sat up, tossing his hair out of his face. “Our party, little bro.”

Greg raised a skeptical eyebrow just as the doorbell rang. Rodrick jumped to his feet, nearly tripping over the edge of the rug.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Rodrick held up his hands. “We need chairs from the basement.”

Greg blinked. “For what?”

Rodrick gave him a look like it was the dumbest question ever. “In case we want to play musical chairs.”

Greg wrinkled his nose. “I haven’t played musical chairs since the second grade…”

Rodrick chuckled, already pushing him toward the basement door. “Well, it comes back when you hit high school.”

The doorbell rang again. Rodrick stopped Greg with a hand on his shoulder. “Wait. You get the chairs. I don’t want anyone disappointed, all right?”

Greg hesitated, then nodded. “Okay…”

And that was when the plan truly began.

Greg clomped down the basement stairs, muttering to himself. The second his sneakers hit the concrete, Rodrick slammed the door shut and locked it.

“Rodrick!” Greg shouted, rattling the knob. “Help! The door’s closed!”

Rodrick leaned against the door, smirking at you. “Yeah, and it’s staying closed. I don’t need a middle schooler ruining my party.”

“What?!” Greg’s muffled voice rang out. “I thought it was our party!”

Rodrick laughed, raising his voice so it carried. “It’s my party. Now keep quiet or I’ll lock you in the closet!”

Greg banged on the door in frustration. “Rodrick!”

Rodrick grinned, speaking in a mocking sing-song voice. “Greeeg.”

You snorted, trying to stifle your laughter. “You’re evil.”

“Genius,” Rodrick corrected, kissing your cheek before heading to answer the door.

Down in the basement, Greg gave up banging and spotted the landline phone tucked on a shelf. He dialed Rowley, practically begging him to come save him. Within half an hour, Rowley’s face appeared in the tiny basement window.

“Don’t worry, Greg! I’ll get you out!”

Rowley scurried to the front porch and knocked.

Rodrick answered halfway, only opening the door just enough to let Greg see his best friend. “Yes! You did it!” Greg shouted from the basement stairs.

But then Rodrick pulled the door open wider, grinning like the cat that caught the mouse. “Nice try.” He grabbed Rowley by the ear, ignoring his squeaks of protest, and shoved him toward the basement. “That’s a really nice try, Greggy. But whatever you thought…” he paused for effect, “…I already thinked it!”

The door slammed shut, the lock clicking again, leaving both Greg and Rowley trapped in the basement.

From upstairs, Rodrick turned to you with a proud smirk. “See? Flawless execution. Told you I had this covered.”

You shook your head, trying not to laugh as music already began thumping through the speakers. “You’re unbelievable.”

He threw an arm around your shoulders, tugging you closer as guests began flooding in. “Unbelievably awesome.”