chocolate milkshakes | rodrick heffley

chapter four: slumber party antics

the school day is almost over and im not as excited as i normally would be. today is friday. tutoring. rodrick isn't at school today and hasn't answered my texts. probably sleeping. it somehow makes the day even less bearable. i keep checking my phone in hopes of him answering, but no response. it's raining again today, has been all week. it aligns with my mood.

once the final bell rings, i head to mr. brown's room for tutoring. eric is sitting at a desk waiting with a stupid smirk that i wish i could just smack right off of his face.

this is going to go just great.

°°°

"hey, tate!" i hear rodrick calling from behind me as i walk from tutoring to the front gate of the school. i turn around, surprised to hear his voice.

i slow down, letting him catch up. "hey, where were you today?"

"i skipped" he explains. "do you want a ride home today? we can stop for milkshakes"

he has this whole arrogant "bad boy" facade that he uses to impress people and recently i've been noticing it slip away when he talks to me. he's really just another sad teenager in need of love and some sleep.

"don't you have band practice?" i ask.

"well i.." he rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed. "..may have not gone today so we could hang out"

he's so sweet towards me. so thoughtful. the sound of his voice gives me butterflies. i look forward to seeing him everyday. it's disgusting. this fucking kid has me acting like a complete idiot.

"rodrick, i can't. i almost got in deep shit yesterday, remember? you should have gone to practice." i tell him, coldly.

he looks down, dolefully. "oh."

i wave at him, walking faster to the gate. "i'll see you later alright?" it takes everything in me to not turn around and apologize. i reach for my umbrella, but it's not there. i must have left it with rodrick. like he left his jacket with me. and never got it back. it's obvious that he wants me to have something of him.

i pull my hood over my head as the rain starts to pour down on me harder. i must look like a complete moron, walking down the road in the pouring rain, with my backpack and no umbrella. i can feel the eyeliner running down my face. why did i react like that to rodrick? what's wrong with me?

as i finally begin to approach my house, i see my dad's car. why is he home so fucking early? god i wish he worked 24/7. i open the front door and try to get to my room as quickly as possible, but my dad stops me.

"where have you been?" he demands.

"i told you i have tutoring on fridays" i explain. i resist the urge to roll my eyes at him.

"no you didn't" he raises his voice at me. "im sick and tired of you sneaking around and doing shit you're not supposed to do. i sit at the house and worry all day because you're always gone. you act like you're so fucking tough all the time, going and hanging out with those fucking goth idiots" he's practically screaming at this point. my heart rate begins to pick up per usual, i open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off like always. "get the fuck out of my face!"

i retreat to my room, prepared for him to open the door and continue on with his rant but, thankfully, he doesn't. i strip off all of my clothes, hanging them up to dry, since we don't have a washer or dryer. i change into an oversized band tee and some pajama shorts. then i open up my backpack to try and salvage my papers. i spread them out over the floor to let them dry and collapse onto my bed.

my room. my safe space. posters cover the walls, leaving hardly any room for the poor paint job to show, tapestries and string lights cover my ceiling, illuminating the room. it's the only part of the house where i feel like i can actually be myself. my dad is always screaming at me for small things. this isn't anything new. i've learned that it's best to just suck up to him and nod my head. he doesn't yell at me to necessarily make me behave better, it just makes him feel like he's in charge. he's seriously fucked up.