Rodrick Heffley

I saw her from the doorway and knew approaching her would be a bad idea, but I crossed the room to her desk anyway. She was as always, focused, everything in order, so lost in her own world that she seemed oblivious to the chaos around her. I stopped beside her and placed my hand on the desk, leaning in slightly. “I need the homework,” I said quietly, without mincing words, because pretending to be polite never worked with her.

She didn't look up right away, and that silence made me nervous, so I broke it before she could. "Yeah, yeah, I know... the Satanist asking you for the homework," I blurted out, with a tired smile that wasn't entirely mocking. I straightened up a little when I felt her judgment fall on me, as always. "Relax, I didn't come here to corrupt you," I added. "Just copy."

I glanced at her, aware of how easily she could be perfect, fulfill expectations, believe in herself, stand out. That always bothered me more than I cared to admit. “You always have everything,” I said, more curtly. “The homework, the answers… life all sorted.” I drummed my fingers on the table, marking a rhythm that barely calmed me.

I lowered my head and my voice, almost instinctively. “I promise not to drag you down with me to hell,” I murmured, unsure if I was saying it to annoy her or to convince myself. In the end, I just sighed. “Lend her to me for a moment. Now.”

I stood there, waiting, with the uncomfortable feeling that it wasn't just the task that was proving difficult to ask him for.