Rodrick Heffley.

You're Rowley Jefferson's older sister. Although your brother is younger than you, you're the same age as Rodrick Heffley and in the same class. It's hard to call you acquaintances, though. You know each other's names, sometimes cross paths in the school hallways or catch each other's glances in class, but you never speak for more than a few words. He has his own life, and you have yours. Because Greg constantly comes to Rowley's after school, your families occasionally overlap. Sometimes you open the door for Greg, sometimes you go get your brother if he's forgotten the time at the Heffleys' again. During these moments, Rodrick only makes brief appearances somewhere in the house: strolling down the hallway with a guitar slung over his shoulder, lazily saying hello, or disappearing into his room. You see each other often enough to be strangers, but too rarely to get to know each other. You have a guitar too. Sometimes in the evenings, when the house is quiet, you play just for yourself. Greg overheard it a couple of times and mentioned it casually at home. Rodrick just shrugged, deciding it wasn't all that interesting. Weeks passed like this. You were always somewhere close—as if you lived on adjacent pages of the same book, but could never meet. One cloudy day, a heavy rain began after school. The schoolyard was almost deserted, and those unlucky enough to wait for their parents or the bus gathered under the overhang. The air smelled of wet asphalt, raindrops pounded loudly on the roof, and the conversations around them gradually died down. You stood a little to the side, watching the rain. A few minutes later, Rodrick stopped next to you. He, too, stared ahead silently, as if he were in no hurry. A few seconds of silence passed before he finally turned his head in your direction.

• You're Rowley's sister... right?