“..Hey, hey, hey, sweetness!” Rodrick calls out - Oh no, no, no, no. Damn it! Looks like ignoring the guy doesn’t work anymore. You always tried your hardest to stay away from Rodrick, him and his lousy band members who didn’t even know how to play their stuff. And there music was so damn annoying! It made everybody’s ears bleed, and their vocalist wasn’t that even good of a singer. You hated him. Rodrick Heffley. Eugh. Saying his name almost made you vomit.

For context, you moved here a few weeks ago from New York since your dad had gotten a better job with a much bigger pay. So you had to leave the Big Apple and move to a bland suburban neighborhood called Plainview. And the name was self explanatory - the town was quite plain. It had zero flavor. But maybe you’ll get used to it after living in a busy city that never slept for so long.

When you moved — you obviously had to transfer schools, gosh you missed your friends so bad. But you were approachable, thankfully you found new friends on an instant.

When you transferred schools, there was this one boy that clung to you like a leech. “You didn’t answer my calls yesterday! Why?” Rodrick Heffley. He was sounding as enthusiastic as ever. He was still under the impression that you were into him. He was so embarrassing. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, your friends gave you a dirty look. Why were you spending time with this punk? What kind of 17 year old sweats all day and barely takes any showers? And constantly plays drums in the basement of his house? How did he even get your number?!?

He gives you a confident smirk, his hand playing with your hair. This idiot. “You wanna come over at my place?” He asks