Hey there peoples of the world please don't murder me for the long absence in writings. I don't know if I'm going to do the Jacob story. I'm not as into it anymore. Sorry… Anyways, I do not own anything except the made up characters. They main character's name is Eva, with a long "a" sound in the beginning (Ay-vuh). I'll do my best to keep the movie's characters the way they would be normally but they won't be perfect. So without further ado, here is my take on a Rodrick fanfic.

Eva's P.O.V.

Eva doodled in her blue covered notebook. She drew ballet slippers whose ties wound together. The loops and twists spelt her name, roses growing in the 'E' and off of the tail of her 'a'.

She had no idea how close to the end of the day it was but very suddenly, the bell rang and everyone jumped out of their seats, rushing to the door. She was no exception, although her haste was to get to work on time. She headed out of the room, shoving her notebook in her messenger bag as she sped through the doorway. As she stepped out, she headed to her locker, conveniently located in the same hallway as her 7th period biology class. She was almost to her destination when she felt a shoulder shove roughly past her. She looked up and saw Natasha Baggins looking back over her shoulder, laughing and then cuddling back up to the body attached to the long arm draped over her shoulders. And yes, that name was Baggins… as in Bilbo and Frodo. But no one ever made fun of Natasha. At least, not in public. Natasha was the "it girl" of her high school. Tall, thin, long blonde hair, and she had to have at least a 36DD, but it seemed like her perfect boobs just never quit growing so it was hard to pinpoint a size.

Eva smiled to herself at the thought that maybe one day, her big balloons of fun would just full up and pop! no more Natasha. But Eva knew she wasn't that lucky. Laughing just a bit at her private joke, Eva got to her locker and grabbed a red notebook and her Spanish text book. She day dreamed as she got out to the one thing that brought her the most joy in life: there, just as she had left it that morning was her motorcycle. It was a candy plasma blue, Kawasaki Ninja 500R. She had got it at her 16th birthday. After getting her regular license and then obtaining her motorcycle license, it really became hers, not just nominally.

Her Uncle James had given it to her and she had never been happier; she had also never seen a day that her mother had been angrier. But after much sweet talk ('it's cheaper on gas', 'I promise I'll keep my grades up', etc.) she had been allowed to keep it. However, she also had to drive the car, not just her baby.

She tightened the strap on her bag so it didn't hang so low, jammed her helmet on and started it up. She smiled as it growled beneath her. She weaved her way thorough the parking loot and even managed to cut off Natasha in her shiny red mustang. She drove off to the center of town and pulled into a parking space at the back of 'Jessy's Diner'. It was a small place but on the right night, a really popular spot for it's size.

She hurried into the back entrance, throwing her bag into what used to be an office but now was just the staff room. She quickly pulled her hair into a pony tail and threw an apron on over her neck, tying it as she stepped through the kitchen and then the door which led to the main area.

A tall man, about 23, looked at his watch. "Cutting it a little close aren't we?"

"Sorry Mike, I saw an old woman fighting off a young wiper snapper who was trying to take her purse. You know me, I just had to stop and help."

"Aww, how good of you. Who won?"

"Well after I stepped in and helped, we were able to wrestle the old woman's cane away. That helped a lot. You'll be glad to know that we made a clean get away with the purse."

"Anything good," he asked as she washed her hands and he scrubbed the counter down.

"Oh yeah. She was totally loaded. Lot's of big bills and credit cards. I'm moving to Fiji and retiring next month. Just have to get my affairs in order."

"Really? Well until then, get to work. Table 3 needs a Coke refill." Eva sighed and grabbed a glass pitcher of Coke, heading to the table while saying in a theatrical Southern voice "One of these days, I'm gonna be free. Just you watch me!" They both laughed while the couple at the table gave her an odd look. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting." She smiled politely. "My name is Eva. Would you like a refill?" The man nodded.

"Just half full please." "Of course" she answered. "Anything else for you today?" "No thank you. I will take the bill though." "Alright. I'll be back with that in just a moment."

She bustled over to the counter. "They want the bill." She whistled as he handed it to her and she walked over. "Here you are." She smiled and retreated. She sat on a stool facing Mike. The two were their only customers at that time. "Sooo… you taking off pretty soon?" "Yeah, as soon as you get off your lazy ass and take over."

"Jeez, yes sir Commander Cranky." She chuckled as he punched out. "Go get your tip," she said as the door closed behind the couple. After he brought the plates to the kitchen, pocketed his tip and added their money to the register he said "Don't burn the place down without making sure Bruce is properly locked in the bathroom."

"I heard that you dickhead," Bruce, the cook, called from the kitchen.

"Good, then do us all a favor and go to the bathroom already," Eva called. "Sure, but you've gotta go with me hot stuff," he joked. Eva looked at Mike. "You heard him. Go take one for the team, be a brave little man. We'll all remember you."

Mike came back with "Yeah, only in his dreams." "See ya tonight then," Bruce answered. They all laughed and Mike left. It was quiet so Eva turned on a small radio above the sink. She tuned it to a country station, at this minute something by Tim McGraw and grabbed a rag to go wipe down table 3. She vaguely registered a large white van pull up outside and the bell on the door tinkling as a tall dark haired someone walked in.

"I'll be with you in just a second," she called as she finished her table. She returned to the long counter. She started when she saw who it was; Rodrick Heffley. He was tall and tan. He wasn't grossly buff like so many of the football players were but he looked like he could most definitely hold his own in a fight. His hair, thick and black, wasn't girlishly long. It reached the middle of his neck and currently looked like he had just rolled out of bed. His hooded eyes were dark brown. His lips were full, but not ridiculously so.

"Oh, um, hi." I handed him a laminated menu slowly. He looked up at my name tag. "Hi Eve-ah," he said with a defined pause in the word. "Oh, actually its Eva. You know, with a long 'a'. Ay-vah," she announced. "Hmm." He looked at her thoughtfully. "You look familiar. Have we met before?" I fought to keep myself from rolling my eyes.

"Yeah. We've had a few classes together over the years." Try 12. He looked confused. "So, did we go to the same school, like when we were young?"

She bit her lip. It was petty of her to bring it up but she wasn't upset by it. It was all water under the bridge now and actually made her laugh. But she wanted to see if she could refresh his memory. She crossed her arms and answered.

"Yes we did Rodrick Heffley. You may have forgotten me but I never forgot you. On the first day of kindergarten, you pushed me down, said I was a tacky farm girl and told the boys I had worse cooties than the other girls. And then you used my braid like a paint brush. My hair was blue and purple for a week."

She saw enlightenment cross his face and he laughed. "Oh yeah, I remember." Then he looked at her face. "Crap," he said.