Rodrick's POV:
"TURN THAT DOWN!" Dad screams at me from outside, glaring angrily.
I roll my eyes, giving up my drumsticks and going back upstairs to the living room. Both Greg and his dorky friend are sitting on the windowsill with the little demon, waiting for someone.
A someone who's already walking down the sidewalk, her Mary Jane's clicking smoothly on the concrete, her lipstick the same signature maroon gloss. She flashes Dad a smile and a short wave, a set of rings glittering in the cold winter sun.
She looks like heaven on Earth.
The kids let out cries of joy, rushing out the front door, tackling her before she's had time to take off her fur coat. She laughs, and kisses their foreheads, pinching their cheeks. Her little siblings wave and hug, too as I watch, my eyes pretty much glued to the goddess smiling not at me.
"So how are you boys doing?" she asks, her voice the prettiest trance I've been under. Unsurprisingly, she walks past me without even a second glance, her expensive perfume drugging my brain, killing brain cells.
The whole lot plus my parents follow her to the kitchen. I hang back.
"Alright, Manny. Not too many cookies, ok?" Mom tells Satan, before turning to Jodi. "Only three, Jodi."
Jodi nods, placing a plate of lemon tarts on the table. "Don't you worry one bit, Mrs. Heffley. He'll be fed, napped and happy."
"Greggy, honey, get along with Christie and David, okay?" She adds, patting Jodi's little brat's shoulder.
Dad beams, wrapping an arm around Mom's shoulder. "Oh and call if Rodrick does anything.... interesting." he says, shooting me a meaningful look.
I hate him. I hate this. I'm not a child. I don't need a babysitter. Especially not...her.
"Oh, he'll be fine. I'm sure." she smiles, her eyes picking me apart. I let myself stray back to a couple of days ago, her cold hands on my thin shirt and her lips only a second away, her hair smelling like cherries and chamapange and a bit of spice-
"Heffley."
I snap back to reality, blinking at her in real life. She's frowning at me. "What?" I ask, all innocence.
She doesn't buy it.
"Help us make cookies if you want one." she answers, tying an apron to her waist, her hair tied at the base of her neck. "Get the eggs from the fridge, Rowley. Manny, baby, get me the milk, Gregory, a bowl and whisk please, you two go get the remaining things." she orders, then she rounds on me.
"You. Get me some chocolate chips. I forgot to buy some earlier and you guys are out." she hands me a few dollars, shooing me out of the kitchen.
I halt and turn to her, eyebrows raised.
"What is it Heffley?" she huffs, rolling her eyes.
"My van broke down." I smile. "I'm not getting you anything."
She smiles back, grabbing her purse off the table, fishing out a set of glittery car keys. She swings them in my face. "One scratch and you die."
"Wow. Sounds exciting."
"Heffley."
I roll my eyes, snatching the keys out of her hand, nodding to her yapping as I wear my shoes.
"Yeah, yeah. I know, bittersweet and dime-sized, okay woman." I sigh, slamming the door after myself.
I run down the sidewalk to her house, her maroon '96 Jaguar XG 12 shining under the two inch snow.
Praying I don't crash it, I start the car, the interior smelling of leather and berries.
_______________________________
By the time I'm back, there's a load of chattering in the kitchen, the smell of lemon tarts in the air mixing with cookie dough.
"I'm home, people." I announce, plopping the bag of chocolate on the counter.
"Not a scratch?" she asks, holding out her hand.
"Not a scratch." I nod, dropping the keys in her open palm.
Half an hour later, all the kids are sitting down on the saggy couch, Jodi and I standing next to the couch, looking through DVDs.
"I wanna watch Peppa Pig!" Christie shrieks. Manny nods, "Peppa!" he echoes after her. Greg shakes his head. "No way. Let's watch something cool."
"Yeah, come on, Jodi. Let's watch something with explosions and- and shooting." David nods enthusiastically, giving his sister puppy eyes. Rowley's pink, mumbling something like: "That's too scary."
Jodi listens to nobody.
"No, we won't watch anything with that much violence." she shakes her head.
Says the one who listens to crime documentaries as background noise.
"I want to watch this." I say, pulling out the Dead Before Dawn DVD. She arches a brow.
"What? It's good!"
"Put that back rig-"
"YEAH!" the boys cheer. Satan and Christie whine, crossing their arms.
"No."
"But Jojo-"
"I said no."
"C'mon, Grant-" I start. She gives me the evil eye.
Yikes.
"We're watching a normal film with no gore, no dying, no gut eating, and most definitely no Satanic rituals." she says, breathing heavily, glaring at everyone.
I groan, tossing my DVD in the basket. "But Rodrick-" Greg starts.
She holds up a hand, cutting him off.
"No. Heffley is not my responsibility. Your parents will come and deal with his bull- his actions." she explains, "But just because he bought the DVD and he owns it doesn't mean it's going to be watched by you. He can watch it with his friends. But not with you lot."
Greg frowns, trying to search for a solution. This is what he comes up with.
"Well, can you please not tell Mom? We'll be good! We won't ever scream." he begs.
Yeah that won't work at-
"Okay. But let's just get Manny and Christie their Peppe Pig on the other TV, ok?"
What the fuck am I hearing.
"What if I just say 'no'? It's my DVD." I suggest, giving Greg a devious grin.
He gasps a 'no!', looking set off.
"What if I just shove it up your- nose. Up your nose, hm?" Jodi says through gritted teeth. Damn that's sexy as hell.
My grin only widens. "Really? I'd love to see you try."
She exhales through her nose, snatching the DVD away from me and storming up to the thingy next to the TV and ramming it in- holy fuck I wanna be the thingy.
"Ok. The moment I hear a scream, we turn it off and watch Peppa with the little kids." Jodi warns the boys. They all nod, pulling up their blankets and getting comfortable. She sits down on the end of the couch, next to yours truly.
The film was twenty minutes in and Jodi's already pale.
"It's not that scary." I mutter in her ear.
She shoots me a look. "Heffley, honey. Shut up." she whispers back, her hands wringed in her lap. I look at my other side at the dorks. Rowley's whimpering like an injured animal. Greg has his his hands over his face.
I roll my eyes, snatching up a cookie from the bowl on the table, watching a zombie getting slaughtered. Jodi cringes, a look of pure disgust on her features. She still manages to look god-like.
Out of the blue, about an hour in the film, she clutches my arm so hard I tear up.
"D-did you see that?! Eurgh!" she scream-whispers, her grip tightening. I yelp, trying to free my arm from her grasp. She lets go, her eyes glued to the screen.
"Bitch run!" she urges at the screen. The dorks are too momentarily stunned at the film to notice she had cursed (for the first time in front of them anyway).
By the time the movie is over, all of them had screamed at least ten times (so did I, just once though...). And I'm sure that if I pull up my sleeve, there's gonna be a big-ass blue bruise on my arm.
I mean, I'm not complaining, I'd let her step on me anytime of the day, but yk.
