Of Apricot Roses and Dead Bluebirds

Greg Heffley already has a lot to deal with on his plate-every day feels like an uphill struggle through the relentless torment of middle school. The days bleed into each other, each marked by the fresh bloom of a bruise on Rodrick's skin, like a twisted form of art. Speaking of Art, Manny's scribbles seem to grow ever more disturbing. Except the gods are bitches, and he ends up having to deal with none other than Bryce Anderson-Westmore's Golden Boy and Professional Prick, whose presence is like a suffocating ivy, winding tighter around Greg's already fraught existence.

Bryce Anderson, on the other hand, is bored. His days of effortless glory have become monotonous, a golden cage that offers no real challenge. Then he spots Greg Heffley-a broken figure kneeling at a gravestone, looking like he wants nothing more than to be the one buried six feet under. Curiosity piqued, Bryce decides to unravel the mystery of this wimpy kid, always scribbling away in his diary. This is a mistake; for the secrets Greg guards are not just pages in a diary-they are the bitter reality that Bryce is scarcely prepared to face.

The gods may be capricious, but Greg Heffley is nothing if not tenacious, and Bryce Anderson is about to learn that some mysteries are better left unsolved.