RODRICK'S RULES

My Place Or Yours

A/N: I'm just gonna leave this here... [Happy Monday!!]

Roxanna:

---------------

"Woah, woah, woah, who said you could play Twisted Wizard on my gaming console?!" a shrill tween voice called from behind my back.

I paused the game, setting the controller down. Throwing my hands up, I spoke in a mock-scared voice, "I surrender! I surrender!" 

The short kid's twisted face softened into a cautious grin before his eyes widened. "Oh, wait. You must be-"

"Roxanna, but you can call me Roxy. It's nice to meet another Twisted Wizard fan. I haven't gotten to play this game in years!" I shot a big smile at the gangly middle schooler. "From how Rodrick described you, I'm guessing you must be Greg. Though, you don't look like a fire breathing troll to me." Greg looked around, squinting his eyes and blushing a little, his expression a combination of anger and embarrassment. 

"Umm, haha, ya Rodrick likes making up stories. Anyways, I think he's going to be home soon...wait--who let you in?" 

I nodded my head towards the kitchen. "Your mom. When I rung the doorbell, it's like she knew I was already there. She had snacks and everything layed out for me when I got here...I didn't know you could even make celery look like little tree stumps."

Greg smirked a little, chuckling. "Oh, ya, ants-on-a-log, that's her specialty." 

I grabbed my bag, laughing along with Greg as I stood up. "Since Rodrick will be here soon, I'm gonna head up to his room." Greg's eyes went wide again. I chuckled to myself, patting him on the shoulder as I called from behind me, "Save me a Twisted Wizard game sometime! I need someone to keep me from getting too rusty!" A small laugh sounded from the living room as I ascended the stairs.

Rodrick was supposed to be here at 4:30pm, but of course he was late. I was sitting on a deflated bean bag in the corner of the room. Rodrick's bedroom was located in the attic which the Heffley's had converted into a loft-style bedroom, equipped with sound-muffling panels for Rodrick's raucous, instrument-playing purposes. 

I had to admit, the place was pretty cool, the old, wood walls were decked out with vintage band posters, one half of the ceiling slanted to form the little nook that I was tucked into, while the other half of the room contained a wall of high-set windows, and at the center, a small disco ball hung from the ceiling. 

Checking the clock on the wall, the time read 4:56pm. Late, late, and later. I dipped my head back, resting it against the styrofoam bead-filled chair. "Heffley, you better not be wasting my time," I huffed. A creak sounded across the room, the latch to a door clicking closed.

"Oh, Roxanna, I would never." I could feel those lips curl up, sense the grin, before I even saw him.

[Earlier that day...]

Chemistry was bad enough, but a Jerkshire project was even worse. 

Rodrick had been, how should I put it, in a mood today. Mere seconds before the first period bell rang, he'd slunk into class, tossing his things more abruptly onto the floor than usual. Throughout Jerkshire's daily lecture, he'd sat in sullen silence, staring dejectedly at some corner across the room. He hadn't spoken a word or made a single sarcastic suggestion. What was up with him?

I kept shooting him quick glances, probing him for physical signs or changes in expression, anything to reveal what was weighing on him. He didn't even bother too look up. After a good amount of overanalyzing and eye strain, I turned back to Jerkshire, inadvertently knocking my pen over towards Rodrick as I swiveled in my chair.