Chapter Text
The first time I saw Rodrick Heffley I thought of him as the dumbest loser that has ever lived on the face of the earth.
The second time I developed a weird habit of looking at him for too long and smiling subtly when he said something he thought was funny.
Then came the likes, the conversations, the way the pics he posted had my hair or my face or my pink skirt in the background, like he took the picture just to show me he saw me there.
I was going insane, I was obsessed.
He was a black-wearing wannabe emo boy that liked to pretend he knew rock and metal and punk, those “hardcore punk dudes.” A man can never be hardcore; he hasn’t lived what it’s like to be a woman, the pain, the dread, the hollowness.
I’m a bitch, I can be one, I’m a harsh, judgy, scheming bitch.
But see, that’s the role this school has assigned me since the beginning: eat or be eaten.
I'm the queen bee.
I saw him behind the shopping mall late in the afternoon. I craved a new miniskirt, a low-cal vanilla iced latte, something to ease the tension, buy some razors, get creative.
And then he saw me, me in my “I probably won’t see anyone from school” outfit, in my “none is crazy enough to hang out in the middle of the night in this forgotten-by-God place.”
And I find this loser.
God.
I don’t understand you sometimes.
Maybe he won't recognize me, at the end of the day, why would he notice me anyway, it’s not like he’s going to approach me or whatever, I mean, just because I’m absolutely—
“Wow, I never thought you were the big flowy hippie dresses type.”
Oh gosh, what a pester - “You should wear that style more, it really suits you”-
And if I was in school, with all those mean bitches that pretend I’m the mean one, I would probably have told him to fuck off. But we were alone, and I was wearing the biggest pink grandma dress, and I was so comfortable and happy, I just said
-“You think? I’m so comfortable in this thing, I’m usually so cold.” - I guess I’m high or something, because why in the actual hell am I being so nice to this loser? He’s so dumb with his messy hair, and for fuck’s sake, he wears eyeliner, and those band tees. I’m just going to accept whatever the hell is going on with me, because it clearly makes me so happy. I’m fucked if anyone finds out I like this loser.
-“Are you usually freezing to death? Because with this weather I don’t think that dress gives you any warmth.” - He caught me, I was hugging myself and jumping from foot to foot.
-“Shut up, I’m not that cold. It’s a bit chilly here, isn’t it? And yes, I’m usually freezing to death. Haven’t you noticed I’m always wearing a sweater?” -
-“I noticed.” - He said, taking out his black sweater and putting it on my shoulders. - “It actually looks better on you.” -
Now, I didn’t blush.
I lied I blushed.
Fuck this dude, being so cute.
How dares he.
-“I was actually going for some snacks after this, care to join me?” -
I had no car with me; I took an Uber because my car apparently had this horrible sound. I never noticed because I always drive with music I mean, how was I supposed to know I had to drive in silence? How dumb.
-“Sure.” -