Chapter Text
1
Since you were a little kid, you had heard about the high school hierarchy. It all began when you watched your first teen movies like Mean Girls or The Perks of Being a Wallflower, and when you listened to your sister's stories about her high school years. You quickly understood that teenage life was complex, and now, here you were right in the middle of it.
On your first day as a freshman, the seniors took great pride in introducing you to the various social groups, each with their own table in the cafeteria. At the top of the hierarchy were the popular kids, made up of jocks and cheerleaders, followed by the others: the losers, the math club, the art kids, the musicians, and so on.
Fortunately, you found yourself among the popular crowd. You weren't exactly sure how it happened, but somehow, you just started hanging out with them. However, don't think that being a pretty cheerleader is something easy.
At first, you misjudged how hard it would be to pretend like you were better than everyone else. You had been raised to be a good girl by your parents, taught to be kind and considerate. But sadly, in this world, it seemed like showing kindness to anyone outside the popular group wasn't allowed.
By the time you were a sophomore, you started spending a lot of time with the guys in the film club for a project, and your friends weren't really happy about it. You nearly found yourself at the bottom of the social ladder : the Loners-people even less connected than you imagined. They weren't even friends with each other and were such easy targets for the bullies.
But now, as a 12th-grade senior, you still sat with your old friends at the cafeteria table. You had gained some maturity over the years, and popularity was no longer the most important thing for you. Your biggest issue was something far worse : Love.
You shouldn't have been this excited to be in math class. It was nearly the end of the last period, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. You sighed quietly, noticing that you still had your extra math problems, used as a bookmark in your math book. You almost forgot about that.
As the bell rang, signaling the end of the period, Mr. Cunningham, the math teacher, called out to a student before he could leave the classroom.
"Mister Heffley!" he exclaimed, adjusting his glasses. "Can I talk to you for a while?"
You frowned, glancing around the classroom full of excited students rushing to leave.
Heffley ? Who was it ? You thought, as you realized you had stopped caring about your classmates' names after hanging out with the popular group for more than 3 years.
A guy approached Mr. Cunningham's desk wearing a bored, almost annoyed expression. You guessed he was Heffley. You just stayed near Mr. Cunningham's desk, holding onto your extra math problems paper tightly and waiting for your turn. You genuinely needed to speak with Mr. Cunningham today, so you'd wait as long as it took, just to have a small talk with him.
Meanwhile, you listened in on the conversation between Mr. Cunningham and Heffley, who seemed like a bit of a loser if you had to be honest.
"So, Mr. Heffley..." Mr. Cunningham started, speaking in a calm, almost soothing tone. Even if the student in front of him didn't seem interested at all. "I graded your test yesterday, and I think we should have a little chat about it since your score is, well..." The teacher cleared his throat, pulling out Heffley's test paper and handing it to him. The teenager grabbed it and tossed it into the bin without a second thought. You raised an eyebrow at his unexpected reaction.
"I was wondering if maybe you had some issues at home, or something else going on," Mr. Cunningham said, his voice soft with concern. "I'm here to listen, Rodrick. I'm really concerned about you... and about your grades."
"I don't give a damn about math. It's useless," Rodrick replied, shrugging nonchalantly. "I'll be a rock star after high school anyway."
Mr. Cunningham let out a small, nervous laugh, trying to remain patient. "I understand, Rodrick. But you're still in my class for the rest of the year, and I never let a student fail. I really believe you have the ability to pass my class."
Rodrick scoffed. "I don't understand anything, but it's no big deal. You've never had a student fail in your whole career, have you?"he asked with a stupid grin.
"Why don't you try tutoring sessions?" Mr. Cunningham suggested, suddenly lighting up as if he'd just found the perfect solution.
You didn't think much of it at first, but then Mr. Cunningham turned toward you, a hopeful look on his face.
"[Y/N]," he said gently.
"Eh?" you replied, surprised. You had been lost in thought just a second ago and didn't expect him to address you.
"Why don't you tutor Mr. Heffley?" Mr. Cunningham asked with a warm smile. "You're one of the best students I've had, and I think you could be able to help him."
Your heart swelled with pride as he said that, and you couldn't help but blush slightly. You'd do anything to please him. Even if it meant tutoring this guy for the entire year of your senior year.
Rodrick turned to face you, as he noticed you, his annoyed expression softening into something more neutral, maybe even friendly. He had expected to see a nerdy girl from the math club, and had absolutely planned on refusing Mr. Cunningham's idea. But as he looked you up and down, his expression shifted, you were one of the hottest girls of the school. Observe ? AH. It was more like he was checking you out. He never noticed you before, and it was surprising to him since you were exactly his type.
"That's right. I'll probably pass math if I have tutoring lessons," Rodrick finally said, his gaze lingering on you.
"Great!" Mr. Cunningham exclaimed, staring at you with the eyes that made you weak each time you looked at them. "So, [Y/N], are you okay with this?"
You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question. You could always back out later if you wanted to anyway. "Um... yeah? Sure, why not," you replied, then you glanced at Rodrick, whose gaze was clearly not focused on your face. "Rodrick, right?" you asked, smiling politely. He looked up to meet your eyes as you talked to him. Heffley nodded quietly.
Maybe tutoring Rodrick would make Mr. Cunningham proud of you ?
"Wonderful! I'm counting on you, [Y/N]," Mr. Cunningham said.
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Fuck. Rodrick hadn't expected the best student in his math class to be one of the hottest girls in school. This was his chance. He might never have another opportunity to talk to someone like you again.
He waited for you by the lockers, outside the math classroom. He knew you had brought extra math problems, and Mr. Cunningham was correcting them right now. Rodrick wondered if you were in your right mind. Doing more homework than asked? He was sure you were insane. He didn't even do his own homework most of the time, let alone extra. Maybe that's why his grades were so bad, but it didn't matter to him-he was going to be famous with his band.
After a few minutes, you finally came out of the classroom with an excited expression. It seemed like you enjoyed doing math. You almost didn't notice him waiting for you as you started to leave. He quickly followed and tapped your shoulder. The contact made you look up at him and meet his boyish grin.
"What?" you asked, tilting your head in confusion. Why was he still here?
"Weren't you supposed to tutor me?" he asked, excited to speak with such a pretty girl as you. You remained silent for a second before answering.
"Today?" you asked, wondering why he looked forward to his tutoring sessions so much. Rodrick scratched the back of his neck, looked away, and shrugged.
"Why not? I mean, you could come over. I really need to pass this class, you know? But I don't understand anything."
A lie. You sensed a lie because it was clearly not what he had just told Mr. Cunningham. You rolled your eyes and sighed. "Yeah, okay. Let's go."
A smile appeared on his face. He thought you were into him. You really weren't at all, but that was what he thought. For Rodrick, every girl in high school was into him, especially the ones who were cold or mean to him. That's just how he thought women were.
He led you outside to his van parked on the street. Usually, Heather Hills gave you a ride home because she had a nice car bought by her daddy. Today, though, you were going to get a ride from Rodrick in his... 'Löded Diper' van? What was Löded Diper again? Your face immediately fell when you saw that van. Rodrick jumped into the driver's seat and clumsily opened the passenger door for you, still wearing his silly grin.
You stared at him in disbelief before taking a deep breath and sitting in the passenger seat. You actually liked Heather's car better, even if she was mean and always talked shit about the teachers' new clothes or how awkward the loners were and that is was the reason why they had no friends.
Okay...Maybe the ride with Rodrick wouldn't be that bad. You stared out the window as he started to drive. It was quiet.
"Where do you live again?" you asked, glancing quickly at the driver.
"I live in Westmore Heights. It's not far from here," he replied, glancing at you as well.
And then it was quiet again. But you didn't mind at all-not like you wanted to get to know him or anything. So, you just looked at the houses and streets, trying not to die because Rodrick wasn't exactly what you'd call a 'good driver'. You noticed the 'Westmore Heights Neighborhood' sign from the corner of your eye and frowned as Rodrick ignored it and continued to drive, way too fast.
"I just saw a 'Westmore Heights Neighborhood' sign," you said, confused.
"Ah, yeah, I know. But we're going to get my brother first," he replied, keeping his eyes on the road. Like it was obvious. Couldn't you have told me before, dipshit ? You thought, suppressing the urge to punch him in the face right now. Instead of letting your murderous thoughts take over, you just smiled.
"Cool. He's in middle school?" you asked politely.
"Yeah. He's a little piece of shit," he answered.
"Okay..." you smiled awkwardly, looking away.
After a little while trying not to break your neck in his van, he finally slowed down and parked in front of the middle school, turning off the engine. You started to wonder what you were doing here, sitting in the passenger seat of a white, suspicious van in front of a middle school.
Rodrick beeped the horn and yelled, "Greg!" You noticed two kids turning around in the crowd. They frowned when they saw you. You wondered if it was because of you, because of Rodrick, or something else. You observed the crowd and narrowed your eyes as you noticed a blonde-haired little girl. Isn't that... Heather's sister? You wondered before she got out of sight.
The two boys approached the van, still confused. You deduced the brown-haired kid was the second Heffley since they looked a bit alike. But it was obviously not the other chubby kid with, if you had to be honest, the ugly bowl cut.
"Rodrick?" the brown-haired kid spoke, coming closer to the 'Löded Diper' van. "Is that your girlfriend?" he asked in clear disbelief.
"It isn't your fucking business. Get in, I need mom bucks," the older Heffley said, irritated. But he wasn't just pissed off ; he was kind of proud to hear Greg's question. That meant his little brother thought he was capable of going out with a girl like you. He was clearly not getting the fact that Greg never believed that for one second.
"Can Rowley come over?" Greg asked with hope as his friend nodded. Cute, you thought.
"I don't care. Just get in now," he replied with a firmer voice, gesturing at them to enter the back of the van. Greg and Rowley high-fived cheerfully and quickly opened the van door, both of them finally getting in. Rodrick immediately started the engine and drove home.
The ride to the Heffleys' was quiet as hell, but Rodrick had to play it cool, and he knew there was one thing girls absolutely loved-musicians.
He cleared his throat, breaking the silence between you two.
"You didn't ask about 'Löded Diper', by the way..." he said quietly as he continued to drive. He always told his brother he was really good at flirting with girls- Well, it wasn't exactly true.
You glanced at him and his dark hair. "It's my band. I'm a drummer," he added with a little smirk and quickly glanced at you, checking your reaction. You nodded and he added casually, "You should come to one of our concerts sometime."
"Yeah, totally," you forced a smile because you knew that 'Löded Diper' was exactly like every high school band you knew. What you meant by that, was that high school bands' music sucked most of the time.
"Once we played so loud that we made someone's ears bleed," he laughed, his hand tightening on the wheel.
You glanced at him, tilting your head in confusion. The mental image of their music making someone's ears bleed was a bit disgusting.
He had an awkward laugh and immediately added, "I mean, not literally."
"Aah, okay. Cool." You replied, nodding. Okay, this guy was definitely at the bottom of the social hierarchy.
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