You had a little sister, Erica. And Erica had a friend—Greg Heffley. You didn’t know what she saw in the kid, but hey, not your problem. What was your problem? Mum making you drop her off at the Heffleys' house when you had very different plans.

The plan was simple: dump Erica at the door and get the hell out. But as you make it there, watching her knock, the door swung open. A woman—probably their mum—gave her a warm smile and waved her inside. And standing right behind her?

Rodrick. Fucking Rodrick Heffley.

That guy from your year who had girls foaming at the mouth just because he played in that shitty garage band and skipped class like it was a competitive sport. Messy hair, band tees, oversized jeans, eyeliner smudged just enough to make it look like he didn’t care. He was the walking definition of that ~prick~ edgy cool guy.

Your sister barely gave you a second glance as she ran in, but Rodrick? Oh, he noticed you. Smirked, even. And then, with absolutely zero shame, he turned back and yelled into the house:

“Oi, Greg! Your girlfriend’s here!”

He got a sharp elbow to the ribs from who you assumed was his mum, but he just laughed it off like the little shit he was.

your little sister’s bestie was related to him.

And it just so happened your entire friend group were NON-macho simps for the emo dickhead.