Author's Note: Anything in bold will be Greg's or Rodrick's thoughts.
Growing Pains
September
"Greg," Rodrick said while poking his little brother. Greg slightly stirred but continued to sleep nonetheless.
"Greg," he repeated more intensely. Greg still slept away.
"GREG!" He shouted. Snapping awake, the younger Heffley glared at Rodrick, who was dressed in school friendly attire, complete with a black book bag….
"I know you're just pranking me again so just leave me alone!" he spat. He did this before, when Greg was about to enter middle school. Rolling his eyes, Rodrick pulled out his cell phone.
"Oh really? My clock must be lying then," he admitted mockingly. The clock on his phone read 6:00 am. Greg read it and got out of the bed, still suspicious. Rodrick could have easily changed the time on his phone just to prank him, like that one time they went to Six Flags America, and Rodrick purposely changed his phone clock to 3 am just so he can mess with Greg. He wasn't stupid.
He walked downstairs to see if his parents were downstairs. To his shock, their mom was making breakfast while their dad dressed Manny for preschool, which meant that he wasn't being punked. He awkwardly looked up towards his brother, who was upstairs smirking.
"I would get ready if I were you," he warned, "Eighth grade is probably going to be the worst year of your life. Other than 10th grade that is," he said, pushing Greg aside so that he walk to the kitchen. "Oh and dude? I would wanna check my face and body if I were you," he finally stated. Greg shot a confused look and went into the bathroom.
When he looked into the mirror, he jumped back in shock.
On his forehead, a small zit appeared. The rest of his face? Acne. Was that some traces of hair on his upper lip?
He rubbed his hair, and panicked at the amount of grease in his hair. It was never that oily a couple of months ago. His underarms? Hair. His chest? More hair. His legs? Sweet Jesus, more hair. Why couldn't his deeper voice and slight muscle buildup be enough for his body? No, it just had to stick it to him like it like all those other eighth graders.
How had he not noticed all this over the summer? Sure his parents kept sending him these wistful looks and he found his brothers sending him odd looks but this?
He had officially had become one of the very freaks he complained about when he first went into middle school.
After showering and getting dressed, he went downstairs to the kitchen. To his embarrassment, his parents took notice of his face.
"Wow, Greg, you're starting to look like a man every day," his father complimented warmly, making Greg emit a soft whining sound.
"Bubby big now?" Manny asked while shoving a sausage into his mouth. Manny eating will eternally be disgusting to him. However, instead of whining about it, however, Greg just quietly took a seat next to Rodrick.
"My son is growing up so fast!" His mom said with a sparkle in her eyes. Greg just wanted to die in a ditch somewhere.
"Looking good Greggy," Rodrick mocked. Their parents continued to smile, not catching on to Rodrick's sarcasm.
"I think it's time for you to see Gammie," his dad said. Greg's eyes widened in horror; Gammie Heffley, his great grandmother, was essentially the matriarch of his dad's side of the family who gave out embarrassing talks to any family member who was going through puberty at the moment.
Which was him.
After breakfast, he got into Rodrick's van, with no emotion on his face. He was not looking forward to everybody, especially Holly, seeing his new acne-infested face.
Sensing his brother's nervousness, Rodrick decided to throw his little bro a bone and give him actual device.
"Look Greg," he started, "I wasn't kidding when I said that eighth grade is the worst year of your life. If people weren't putting pressure on your grades last year, then they'll do it here. And graduation? Have fun getting lecture after lecture about how every bad thing you'll do this year will affect your graduation and what high school you'll get into. If you were starting to lose your best friend last year, then you will officially lose that here. You and Baby Hippo may actually break apart forever, sorry, that's life. Stay especially low this year, because if you don't, your life will suck in high school," he warned as he drove up to Greg's school.
"Thanks," Greg mumbled as he got out the car.
(This is going to be the worst year of life. I look like a freak!)
He wasn't feeling any better when Rowley walked up with a deeper voice but with no acne on his face.
"Hey Greg!" He greeted.
"Hey," he mumbled. He turned towards his friend and cringed when he got a good look at Rowley's outfit. He had on a large cowboy hat, a leather vest with a white shirt underneath, leather boots, and a rope attached to his side.
"It's my outfit my parents bought me when we went to Texas, remember?' Rowley said noticing Greg's pained facial expression. At the end of the summer, the Jefferson's went on a weeklong trip to Texas to visit some family members.
"Yeah, I do. Um…cool outfit," Greg lied. For some reason he could not bring himself to scold his friend for wearing a lame outfit this time. He just let it go.
Walking in the front door, Greg expected something different. Maybe the kids in his grade would no longer raise hell in the front halls?
Instead, something worse had taken over the kids this year. The disease called adolescence. There was a bigger hierarchy in the eighth grade than it was the last two year. Girls who used to be best friends had now fallen into clicks; shutting out anyone who wasn't like them. Guys did the same thing with the Jock/Nerd divide being greater and more brutal, as poor tiny Chirag could attest as he was being shoved into a locker by a six feet tall boy.
Kids who used to be attractive now were all covered in zits and pimples, something that gave slight satisfaction to Greg. Even Patty Ferrell was sporting some blemishes on her face.
That didn't stop her from being a horrible person though.
"Heffley, you look so…hideous," she cackled as she walked past him. "And don't even think about running for class president!"
Muttering a certain word that rhymes with witch, Greg and Rowley continued towards their new lockers, which was conveniently placed next to each other.
Only problem was that two kids, a boy with blond hair and brown eyes and girl with long brown hair and green eyes, were currently making out on them. That was another problem; all couples wanted to do nothing but make out instead of previously just holding each other hands. It disgusted Greg.
Disgust is why he suddenly got the courage to tap on the male's shoulder. The male, Michael Sampson, whipped to face him, angry.
"What do you want, wimp?" He spat. Greg crossed his arms, showing no fear. Despite Michael being the second most popular guy in school behind Bryce Anderson, he did not intimidate Greg. It was most likely because Michael was just some rich kid with no muscle to back up his threats.
"You guys are on our lockers!" Greg said.
"And so what? What are you going to do about it? " Michael challenged. By then, some kids began to crowd around them. The girl, Abigail Brown, rolled her eyes.
"Let it go, Michael! Come on, let's go someplace else," she said while dragging him off by the collar on his polo shirt. The small crowd dispersed, leaving an annoyed Greg and a fearful Rowley.
"What if they like get you afterwards?" Rowley asked with widened eyes. To his confusion, Greg just shrugged in response. He and Rowley sat down in front of their lockers, watching the kids walk by. Fregley was still a weirdo, asking a black girl if she wanted to pop his new zit. The girl politely declined and opened up her locker.
"This year might not be so bad," Rowley said, hopeful. (Yeah right.)
The homeroom bell rang and the boys walked to their class.
In homeroom, they passed around new math textbooks for everybody.
(My school couldn't afford new books so usually we would just get hand me downs from the previous class. But when you get a book that ten kids had before you, it makes it hard to any actual learning.)
Greg checked the pages in his textbook to make sure that there weren't any really gross drawings in there like last when he had Bryan Goot's textbook. That textbook was atrocious. What he did discover was that the textbook formerly belonged to Jordan Jury, one of the most popular kids in his grade. Jordan was held back a year, which didn't curb his popularity one bit. Greg couldn't judge because, well, Rodrick would have been held back at least six times if Dad didn't do all of his assignments since middle school. Dad would rather stick his head in an oven than allow any one of his sons to repeat a grade. Jordan was popular mainly because he threw these big blowout parties that only the coolest kids were allowed into. If maybe, just maybe, he could get on Jordan's good side then he could be invited to one of his blowout parties.
He felt a tap on his shoulder, he turned around and to his happiness, it was Holly, his girlfriend.
"Hey Greg!"
"Hey Holly!"
"This is gonna be great year, right?"
With her here, this year won't be so bad after all.
Nobody paid attention to Rodrick Heffley in the halls and he preferred to keep it that way. Summertime's over but the first thing kids want to talk about is Heather Hill's Sweet 16. Just his luck. He was hoping that everybody forgot about that just like they did the talent show.
The people that did notice him snickered like a bunch of hyenas when he walked by. Not to mention one of Heather's friends "accidently" bumped into him with a freezing cold iced coffee in her hand.
In homeroom, the teacher, Mrs. Hall, decided to give a 15 minute speech on how important year senior was and that life after high school was not sunshine and rainbows. Like no kidding; His parents gave him the same (but much longer) speech the night before. He was sick of hearing it.
To his embarrassment, she kept him after class after the bell rung.
"Rodrick, I've heard about you from other teachers and I think it would be wise for you to get a tutor," She advised bluntly.
"Err…no. I think I'm fine," he rejected. He didn't need a lame, stuck up tutor who would most likely talk trash about him behind his back. No thanks.
"Rodrick, it's alright to accept help. It doesn't make you "weak" or "dumb"," she persisted. The urge to roll his eyes was strong. "That's why I'll recommend you to one of our top students, Bobbi Rivers. You'll be able to find her in second period. She's African-American, medium height, with braids in her hair and a blue headband. She has her name on her honor student tag. She's very kind; I'm sure you two will get along fine together," she said, giving him an encouraging smile.
"Thanks," he mumbled. It was only the first day of school and yet somebody had already forced a tutor on him. He was sure he wasn't that stupid.
His first class was Spanish 4. After learning that colleges only required two years of a language, Rodrick tried his hardest to sway his parents into not making him take Spanish 3 and 4, but they would not let up. "Learning multiple languages will enable you to get a lot of jobs," his mom had said. Pfft, like he was going to get a real job. He was going to be rock star!
Plus, he nearly failed Spanish 1, 2, and 3 for the year; he barely knew Spanish besides "Hola" and how to count from one to ten. He wasn't getting any "real" job opportunities any time soon if ever. He would have been frightened by the aspect of failing this class if it weren't for the fact that the woman teaching Spanish 4 was fresh out of college and this was her first teaching class, so that meant she was most likely a pushover.
His next class was Honors English…wait what? Oh right, his dad been doing his work for four years. Dad was a very good writer, and no English teacher was smart enough to realize that his parent has been doing his homework for years. It made for hysterical reactions from other teachers when his English teachers said that he was an "excellent student in their class".
However, the teacher that was teaching it this year nearly made Rodrick wet his pants in fear. Mr. Thompson was his study moderator last year and he wasn't very…fond of him. If he did anything that was leaning even the slightest towards bad, Mr. Thompson automatically sent him to the Student Affairs office. Granted, putting tacks on his seat on the first day of Junior Year and wrecking havoc in the cafeteria with Ben and Chris every day was not smart but honestly, what else was there to do in Study?
When the bell rang, the teacher stood in front of the class and began to speak.
"As you all probably know by now, I'm Mr. Thompson. I'm your senior year English teacher. Some say I'm the toughest English teacher while others say Mrs. Rontello is," he paused and glared for a second, "she's not. Those sophomores have no idea of what they're talking about. Anyway, English is your most important class in high school, without it, how will you be able to get a job? No one wants an illiterate fool as an employee. How will you survive in college? If you can't write a one paragraph essay, how will you write a forty page paper?"
This was the same speech every English teacher said. Isn't writing supposed to be all about creativity?
"In this class, we're going to read all the classics; Literature that is actually thought provoking and intelligible. None of that Twilight garbage."
Several girls pouted in response.
"I want nothing but cooperation and respect in this class, or else it is an immediate trip to the Green Room."
Scary stuff. Except not really…mostly.
"I know for a fact that none of your entitled brats actually keep your phones in your lockers where it is supposed to be. Therefore I want you to keep your book bags in front of the classroom and only take out two pens, a notebook, a folder, a binder, and a highlighter. Anything else is an automatic demerit. I will take possession of your phones if I see them until your parents come up to retrieve it themselves."
And they wonder why kids think schools are prisons…
"Any gum, candy, or drink, I'm tossing it into the trash and giving you two demerits."
What if it's good for the student's health?
"We'll be reading seven books as befitting for an Honors English class."
Seven?
…..Seven?
"You will have plenty of assignments this year, and guess what? If you miss ANY of them, that's an automatic 20 points off your grade. I accept NO late assignments. I refuse to give out extra credit or class participation grades."
How did he walk into this nightmare? Why was his dad so good that he wound in an HONORS class? The frick?
"You are to only speak when spoken to, otherwise you seat straight up with your hands folded, and eyes centered only on the smart board, textbook, assigned book, or me. You will never have any bathroom breaks unless it is an emergency. Retests are not an option, nor is curving your grades, allowing late entries into class, and excuse of any kind as to why you couldn't do a simple assignments. Repeated failures to do assignments are an automatic trip to the Green Room."
Is this divine punishment for being a delinquent since middle school?
"When called upon, you will present yourself in a proper manner with your voice and answer loud, clear, and intelligent. Not paying attention will gain a demerit and an automatic trip to the Green Room."
He obviously finally made the Man Upstairs so angry that He sent him into Hell.
"If I catch you sleeping, it is an automatic trip to the Green Room with 5 demerits."
Hell really was a bad place after all.
"If I catch you cheating on an assessment, then not only will I rip your test to shreds in front of the entire class, then I also send you down to the Green Room with 7 demerits and note to see your parents."
Seriously, what had he done to God to justify him being sent into this circle of Hell?
"Accept these rules, and you will have a splendid year. Fail to comply, and I will find a way to ruin your precious prom or your diplomas that you brats think you're so entitled to."
The bell rang, and Mr. Thompson smiled the most disturbingly sweet smile Rodrick had EVER seen in his entire life.
"I hope we have a wonderful year together."
His classmates practically bolted the classroom, probably to the Academic Affairs office to beg Ms. Teal for a track change.
As he walked to Personal Finance( he wasn't taking that Pre-Calc class. His Algebra 2 teacher even refused to sign him on to that class), he felt a tap on his shoulders, and turned around…and witnessed a shocking sight.
A girl, that most definitely fit the description of Bobbi Rivers, smiled brightly at him. "Do you happen to be Rodrick Heffley?"
She was hot. Like really hot, even more than Heather Hills and his ex, Lindsey.
"Uh…yeah," he stumbling, cursing himself inside. She clapped her hands in an adorable manner. "Cool! Mrs. Hall said that you might have some problems with some classes?"
"Yeah," he said a bit more enthusiastically than normal. She patted his shoulder.
"Well, if you need any help, then I'm happy to help! Here's my number!"She handed him a blue piece of paper and walked off .
(This year is looking quite awesomely for me.)
He and Rowley actually managed to get good seats in the cafeteria. However, if the cliques were bad in sixth grade, then they're terrifying here. He looked over to Jordan Jury and his band of cronies at the table next to him.
("Jordan cronies would follow anything he does even if it makes them looks stupid.")
"Hey, did you guys hear that noise?" Jordan asked, holding his ear out.
"Yeah!" One kid lied.
"I did!" Another one lied.
"What is it?" A third one added to the lies.
"Nevermind. My hearing's bad."
"Mine's too!"
"I have the same problem!"
"I'm going to the doctor's next week!"
Although it could get annoying, Greg didn't mind the equal balance in his and Rowley's friendship. At least Rowley wasn't a darn sheep.
When they got out of school, Rodrick pulled up in his van with an unnatural sweet smile on his face.
Greg and Rowley looked at him disturbed.
"Hey little bro and his best buddy! Wanna go out for ice cream? My treat!" Rodrick suggested cheerfully.
Greg pinched himself to make sure this wasn't a nightmare. Did Rodrick meet a girl? "Sure. Why so happy today?"
Rodrick let out a dreamy sigh. "Life is just so beautiful, y'know? It's like today was a special godsend just for me."
He met a girl. No way was he acting this happy on purpose.
Greg continued to look at his brother suspiciously as the older Heffley drove off to the local ice cream harbor.
Yeah...if you've read my previous story, Five Times, then this is just a full version of that. That was mainly a preview, this will reboot that story in some ways considering some choices I made writing this.