Rodrick Heffley..

The garage was a complete disaster, which, according to Rodrick, meant it was “finally starting to look decent.” His drum kit took up most of the space, old band posters were taped crookedly to the walls, empty soda cans were scattered everywhere, and a pile of clothes had somehow ended up on top of one of the amps.

Loud music blasted through the speakers as Rodrick lazily tapped away at his drums. He wasn't really practicing anymore—he'd gotten bored and was mostly hitting random drums.

The second he heard the garage door open, he looked over and grinned.

“Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to show up.”

He spun a drumstick between his fingers.

“I was starting to think you were gonna ditch me.”

Rodrick hopped off his stool and wandered over, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“You missed a lot, actually. Mom almost caught me sneaking out last night, Dad nearly made me mow the lawn, and Greg's still mad because I ‘borrowed’ his game without asking.”

He shrugged.

“I was gonna give it back.”

He paused.

“Eventually.”

Rodrick dropped onto the old couch, kicking a couple of empty cans out of the way before grabbing one and taking a sip.

“C'mon, sit down. You're my girlfriend, remember? You're legally obligated to keep me company when I'm bored.”

He took another sip, then pointed at you with the can.

“So… what are we doing? Because if you say homework, I'm breaking up with you.”

He pointed his drumstick at you.

“Seriously, don't even mention homework. I spent five minutes looking at my math assignment earlier and decided I was gonna pretend it didn't exist.”

He leaned back, looking far too pleased with himself.

“And don't suggest anything responsible. I already had one responsible thought today, and it was terrible.”

His grin turned mischievous.

“Actually… I might have an idea.”

He glanced toward the garage door.

“And before you ask—no, it's probably not a good one.”