The next morning I woke up at noon. Somehow my phone ended up at the foot of my bed. However, I was so sleepy that I had no choice but to shut my eyes for a moment. I opened my eyes, crawled over to my phone, and checked my email, also the time read 2:27.

"Why?" I asked quietly out loud. I stumbled out of bed and decided on wearing a black, Green Day t-shirt, Olivia donated it to me Christmas of sophomore year, that was one amazing Christmas, and a pair of grey sweatpants that were two sizes too big. I looked at my stuffed duffle bag and shrugged, there was no point in unpacking if I might be out of here tomorrow if all went well with R. Heffley.

I just realized that I had no idea who they were. They could be a creepy 60-year-old mortician or a supermodel who is even younger than me. I shrugged at this thought and decided to make my way downstairs. As I quietly crept down the wooden stairs, I heard the sound of my mother's conversational laughter.

I finished my voyage down the flight of stairs and I saw both of my parents in the sitting room sitting with a woman my mother's age in a grey pencil skirt and suit. Unfortunately, I stepped on the wrong floorboard, and the creak signaled my parents of my arrival. They both turned their cheerful heads towards me.

"Sleeping in I see." My father said cheerfully.

"Jet lag," I said bluntly as I tried to turn away.

"Mrs. Piscitelli, this is my daughter, Abigail. You remember Mrs. Piscitelli, she saw your Winter Choral performance in sixth grade, you had your first solo." My mother said, then she turned her head to Mrs. Piscitelli. "Abigail is very interested in going to law school."

"Mom, I…" I tried to interject. However, my parents and Mrs. Piscitelli continued to talk to each other about something very businessy and serious. "Mom, I have an important interview in a few minutes." I saw my mother's face light up.

"Surely not in those clothes." She said with a small scoff. Mrs. Piscitelli nodded. I gave a small grimace and moved my arms around for a second.

"It's casual," I said very quickly before stopping in the pantry to grab a Poptart. I made my way to the old car I got on my 16th Christmas, which I haven't driven since the summer of Junior Year, I had almost forgotten my car keys. I climbed in the front seat, turned the key in the ignition, and pulled out my parents' driveway. With the help of a map, I made my way towards the residence of R. Heffley. Soon, I was only a block away from 128 Maple Street, and the time read 2:47, only one hour and thirteen minutes until our meeting.

I mean I had nothing to do but wait. My car was so old it had a cassette player that was jammed with a continuous loop of the opera Madame Butterfly. The radio was broken, and I knew how to fix it, but the parts were too expensive. Also, my phone was a mere percent away from dying, and this car had a weak alternator, and an even weaker battery, so I couldn't charge it.

The bombastic sound of violins and deep, round male voices sounded throughout the car. I slowly watched my car's clock turn to three o'clock, then two-thirty, then two forty-five. Finally, the minute hand struck twelve, with the hour hand nestled perfectly over the three. I took a deep breath in, shut off the cassette player, opened my car door, and began to walk down Maple Street, taking careful consideration to look at the address numbers.

Then, I saw it, 128. It was a small, skinny house, hopefully the rent was cheap. I walked up the stairs to the front porch and knocked on the door. I waited for a few moments, and then I heard the rusty doorknob turn which startled me for a moment, then I saw R. Heffley.

He was a tall, lanky guy around my age. He was wearing a blue and green flannel over a black t-shirt with some white writing on it, and a pair of dark jeans. He had shaggy, dark hair, brown eyes, and a square, yet slim and angular face. He was holding a drumstick loosely in his right hand.

"Oh, you must be the four o'clock. Abigail right?" He asked.

"Uh, yeah," I said plainly with a nod. "You are?"

"Rodrick Heffley. Oh, Green Day, love that band, good taste, come in." He said pointing the drumstick at my shirt before turning around to walk inside the small house, I closed the door behind him and I looked around the house.

When you first enter the house you are standing in one giant room. On the right side of the room, there was a leather couch, and across from it was a large, boxy TV on a low table. On the left side of the room was a small, dingy kitchen, and a small table with three chairs that didn't match. Then there was a short hallway in the center back of the giant room, with a door at the very end of it.

"Nice place," I said nodding my head slightly.

"Yeah, I got after my parents kicked me out." Said Rodrick. Then, he looked at me. "How do I know you'll be able to make rent?"

"Uh, I'll have a job by the end of the week," I said.

"Well, rent isn't due at the end of the month, so we should be safe." Said Rodrick as he began to look around the house. "So, how old are you?"

"I just graduated from Uni," I shook my head, "Sorry I mean College" I said awkwardly, It was strange being in America.

"Oh, a college girl. Are you from here?" He asked.

"Yeah," I said. Then it hit me. "Oh, we were in the same class in High School. We had chemistry together sophomore year."

"I think you're right." He responded.

"You set a firecracker off the first day of school," I said, looking at him intently. "Also you threw that wild party, your brother and his friend were there or something, that was so much fun!" I exclaimed.

"I did." He said proudly with a confident smile. "Have you heard of my band, Löded Diper?"

"Obviously, how could I forget what happened at Heather Hill's Sweet Sixteen," I said with a smirk.

"Hey, don't bring that up." Said Rodrick pointing his drumstick at me. He looked around one last time before looking back at me again. "You know, uh, no one else answered my ad, so if you come back by Saturday with a job, you could move in."

"Oh, sure," I said with a small smile. "What do you do?"

"Well, you know my band, we tour a lot, but, my job at Subway is what helps pay the bills." Said Rodrick with a shrug. Then his eyes widened with fear and he stuttered. "I mean my band pays the bills, the Subway job is just for fun."

"Whatever you say," I said, throwing my hands up in the air with a smile. "So what's the rent for this thing."

"One thousand five hundred a month, but with you here, it would only be around seven hundred fifty," Rodrick said.

"Deal, I'll come back with a job. Bye, Rodrick." I said opening the door and waving goodbye at him, he was smiling at me.

"Bye, Abigail, hope you get the job. You can just knock on my door whenever you're ready." I heard him say. Next thing I know, I was back in my car, and it was only a little while after four o'clock.