A/N: Hi there. Yes, this fanfic is still alive! I know, I know. It's been forever! I am so sorry for not being able to update it frequently (I got really busy with school and other stuff). But thanks to everyone out there who keeps reading and supporting this! Anyway, here's Chapter 21! Oh, and stay tuned for the next one. It's written a bit differently from the usual. Enjoy! R&R! :)

CHAPTER 21: Back on Track

For once, our History teacher dismissed us early.

I yawned as I walked out of the room. This day's just too long. It would be great if I could go home after History class, but I still had English after free period. I sighed at the thought of that.

"Bye, April," Olivia said while she and Anne walked towards the direction of their next class. We have different schedules and their free period's earlier than mine. I waved at them before heading to my locker.

I placed my heavy History book in there and then I started unloading more stuff, leaving only what I needed for English and for my homework so I could go home immediately after class. I put my Les Miserables book inside my bag as well. About thirty more pages and I'd finally be done reading that.

When closed my locker door, I felt a hand tap my shoulder. I turned around. And, surprisingly, in front of me was Rodrick Heffley.

He started talking. "So about that project—"

But I didn't let him finish. Without a word, I quickly walked past him.

It's been three weeks since we last talked. Well, I wouldn't exactly call it a 'talk' because we were angrily shouting at each other.

Since that night at the party, we've been ignoring each other at all costs—like that one time last week during English class when Mr. Martins gave us 20 minutes to meet up with our partners to talk about the project. As usual, everyone was noisy. Except for us. We grudgingly sat next to each other (because we had to), but slightly turned the other way, not facing one another. I read the book, and I guess Rodrick was using his phone or something. We didn't say a word. For weeks it was like that. We never spoke to nor even glanced at each other.

So it was quite a surprise that he suddenly approached me today, knowing how arrogant he is.

"Prescott!" he kept calling as he followed me. I walked faster so he couldn't catch up. "Hey!"

The bell rang. The hall started to empty as students rushed to their classes.

I turned right, and then looked behind my shoulder. I finally slowed down when I could no longer see and hear Rodrick. Now walking on normal speed, I headed for the library. Maybe I could finally finish reading Les Miserables today. I yawned. Or maybe I could just find a quiet, hidden spot to sleep.

I was about to enter the library when someone pulled my left arm from behind, causing me to swing around. I rolled my eyes at the sight of him.

"Wait." Rodrick panted, his other arm leaning on the wall. "Dude that was some speed walking you did there." I ignored him and tried to pull his hand away from my arm. His hold was too strong. I sighed and stopped as he started talking. "Look," he said, pushing himself from the wall and standing in his usual slouched posture. "About the project in English—"

Now you're chasing me around to talk about it? I replied in my mind, but I didn't say anything nor looked at him in the eyes. He was probably worried that I already talked to Mr. Martins about it.

"—Uh, you haven't told Mr. Martins about working solo, have you?"

Knew it. I rolled my eyes again, and then looked at the blank wall on my right. Nope, I thought. Maybe I'll tell him later. Still not in the mood to talk to you, though.

"So is that a yes or a no?" he asked. I didn't respond, but I started tapping my foot impatiently. "Come on, Prescott. Say something... You do know he moved the deadline a week earlier, right?"

Of course I do. I faced the other side, casually observing the lockers. Mr. Martins announced yesterday that he moved the deadline to the last week of November, instead of the first week of December. As expected, that earned whines and complaints from the students.

"You really aren't gonna talk, huh?" Rodrick said.

Nope. No thanks.

He moved closer, trying to make eye contact. I avoided it. "Okay." He nodded, and stepped back again. "We'll stay here all day if we have to."

Minutes passed. A lot of people have already passed by, some staring at us. And it looked like Rodrick was really willing to wait. I wasn't. I've got class in a while, and I just can't stand here avoiding the looks of the worst person in the world. Ugh he's getting on my nerves. Again, I tried shaking off his hand and pulling it away. He smirked. "You know, we could be saving time if you just talk to me, Prescott."

I was getting impatient. I then slapped Rodrick's hand. He flinched a bit, but held on. I had to get out of this situation without talking to him. So I did something I knew I'd immediately regret: I raised my arm—the one he was holding—and then bit his hand as hard as I could.

"GAAH—" He almost screamed as he quickly let go of my arm.

I gagged. Ew, I just bit Rodrick's hand. Yuck!

His hand and his face were red (the face looked funny too, by the way). He started talking while massaging off the pain,"You are so going to pay for this, Presco—" but he was cut off when I stomped on his foot. "OWW! The heck was that for?! GAH—"

I ran.

His voice faded away as I got farther. I went straight to the girls' washroom and gargled with water to remove the Rodrick germs from my mouth. Ugh, can't believe I bit his hand. That was the most disgusting moment of my life.

After that, in attempt to forget everything that just happened, I went to the cafeteria, bought some chips, and then waited for the bell to ring.

Only a few moments passed when Claire said hi and sat beside me. "Hey. What are you doing here?" I asked. "You don't have class?" If I remembered correctly, Claire's class ends right before our English class starts.

"We do. Just got dismissed early," she replied. Wow, what's up with teachers dismissing classes early today? "Can I have some?" she asked, referring to the chips I was munching on.

"Sure," I said, extending my arm so she can get some from the bag.

"Hey, what are those red marks on your arm?" she asked while getting a handful of chips.

I didn't notice that earlier. Those probably came from Rodrick's tight grip. I quickly hid it from Claire's view. "It's, uh..." Rodrick's fault, I thought. But I didn't feel like telling Claire the whole scene with Rodrick earlier. "I... Locker accident."

"Hm." She didn't look convinced. "You've got to do something about your clumsiness, April," she joked. I forced a little laugh. "By the way..." She chewed some more chips and then continued, "How's everything between you and Rodrick?"

"What?"

"I mean, are you still ignoring each other and all that?"

I don't want to talk about this right now, so I just shrugged. Claire got the message. She changed the topic and started talking about Ethan. Soon enough, the bell rang and we both headed to class.

. . . . . . . . . .

After dinner with my parents at home, I began answering my Math homework. I never liked Math. Halfway through it, I lightly threw the pen and then laid my head on the table. I had seven more word problems to answer and my brain was already drained.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated. I lazily reached for it and tilted my head a little so I could check it out. Apparently, someone sent me a text message. I expected it to be from Claire because she promised to spill details about her movie date with Ethan. However, the message came from an unknown number, and all it said was:

Hey

I had no idea who sent it. Well, it couldn't be any of my friends. They would have told me about their new numbers during lunch. It couldn't be from my other classmates either. I didn't give my number to anyone recently...

Rodrick.

But no. It couldn't be him. I am absolutely sure that it's not him. I never gave him my number even though he asked for it.

I sat up and sent a reply:

Who's this?

And then I got back to my homework.

Three hours passed. I've already finished both my Math and Science assignments; and the only text I've gotten so far was from Claire who babbled about how great the movie was (I wanted to watch it but she already spoiled the ending, so no thanks). Still no reply from the nameless person who texted, Hey.

Just as I sat on my bed to read Les Miserables, my phone vibrated again, but this time more than once. Someone was calling. I took my phone. Displayed on the screen was the number of the nameless person who texted me. I answered it.

"Hello? Who's this?" I asked. Silence. As if the caller only intended to listen. "Hellooo?"

"Yes! Haha! Now, you're finally talking to me," the voice said. And it was awfully familiar. I hoped I was wrong.

"What? Who–"

"You know who."

"Wha—Rodrick?!" I stood up and started pacing the room. "How—I never gave you my phone number!"

"I have my sources." He paused for a while and then continued, "Duh. We have mutual friends, you know."

I stopped pacing, and started thinking who could have given Rodrick my number. "But... But who gave it to you?"

"That doesn't matter right now," he replied.

"Of course it does! Who–?"

"It doesn't matter," he said slowly, emphasizing each word. "I called because of the English project." As he said that, I heaved a sigh and massaged my temples. "Don't ditch me on this one–"

"I'm ditching you?!" I almost screamed.

"Well, technically you did, but–"

"Oh my gosh. You really don't get it, huh?"

"Come on, Prescott. We're partners here–"

"We were partners. But you've been ditching me the whole time! And now you're asking me to–"

"Let me work with you again. Come on, you know you need me to finish that thing–"

I hung up immediately before he could say anything more.

I was so pissed I threw my phone (good thing it only landed on the edge of my bed and not on the floor). I tossed myself on the bed, and covered my face with a pillow.

I can't believe this. He was the one who had been avoiding the project and pushing me away. We made a little progress but never inched from there. It's tiring and stressful to be project partners with Rodrick... and I honestly don't know if I can still keep working with someone like that.

The next day, my mom and dad went out. I wanted to go with them but they told me that it was their date; and that I should finish all my homework so all three of us can go out tomorrow. I did my best not to complain when they said that. I only had two tasks left! But whatever. I let them have their date anyway.

Just after lunch time, I hadn't eaten yet but I finished reading Les Miserables. Finally.

I decided to finish my History homework first before I start doing the English project.

I heated the leftover pasta from the fridge and then set it on the table. Then I took my laptop to the dining room so, while eating, I could google the article our teacher told us to read.

I sighed in exasperation upon finding the article. It was so freaking long. When transferred to MS Word, it was around 10 pages. Well, yeah, Les Mis was way longer. But that was a fictional novel. And fictional novels are more exciting to read.

About one-fourth through the article, when I just finished my lunch, I heard a knock on the door. I glanced at the clock. It was only 2:15pm. Wow, my parents got home early.

"Just a sec!" I yelled.

I rushed to the door and opened it. But instead of my parents standing there, it was Rodrick.

He started saying something but I shut the door immediately. I elected not to entertain such guests so I just went back to the dining room to finish the reading.

"Come on, Prescott! Open up," Rodrick called out, accompanied with endless knocking. It went on for a few more minutes. And then it stopped.

I walked to the window near the door to check if he was still there. He left. Good.

I sighed in relief and went back to my work.

About three hours later, I finished reading the article. It was about some ancient civilizations. I don't even know if I could remember all those. Talk about information overload. I mean, I had to take breaks in between just so I can absorb it. I really hope there's no pop quiz on Monday.

Drained out from reading, I decided to take a nap in my room. I went upstairs, threw myself on the bed, and covered myself with the blanket. I just closed my eyes when I heard the telephone ring from downstairs. Ugh, really? I groaned and covered my face with a pillow. My brain and eyes were both too tired to go downstairs again. That could go to the voice mail anyway. Suddenly, my cell phone rang just as I was dozing off and halfway to dream land. I reached for it on the bedside table and sluggishly answered, "Hm—hello?"

"Hello? April, sweetie! How are you there?"

I yawned. "Hi mom."

"Have you done all your homework?"

"Yeah."

"Very good! Okay, I just called to let you know that your dad and I are going to be home late."

"But..." I sat up slowly "You said you'll be home for dinner."

"Oh, we bumped into some of our college friends!" Mom said excitedly. I yawned again while she continued. "Apparently they live just in the other neighborhood. We're gonna have dinner together while catching up."

I scratched my head. "Uhh, okay."

"See you later, sweetie! We'll let you know if we're near already. Bye!"

"Okay, bye." I hung up and placed my phone back on the bedside table. Then I lay down again, covering myself with the blanket.

About 30 minutes later, I awoke to the sound of my cell phone alarm. I sat up and turned it off. I think I regained some of my energy. Short power naps always worked for me.

As I climbed down the stairs, I remembered that my parents were going home late.

Great. Now what am I gonna eat for dinner?

There wasn't really anything left in the fridge that will fulfill a stomach. I already ate our leftover food. And I wasn't in the mood to cook dinner. So I thought that maybe I should just order something. Using our telephone, I dialed the number of the mall pizza shop.

After the call, I went to the dining room where I left my laptop earlier. I turned it on and just stared at it for a while. Well, I was supposed to start working on the English project, but my procrastinator self was starting to kick in.

I sighed and turned it off. Then I brought it with me to the living room and placed it on the small table in front of the couch. I turned on the TV and just scanned through the channels, looking for something to watch. Luckily, The Sound of Music was on in one of the movie channels.

At around 7pm, someone outside called out, "Pizza delivery!"

"Wait a sec!" I replied, heading to the door.

I opened it. A guy with a Pizzeria Italia cap, who was looking down so half of his face was covered, handed the pizza box to me. "Okay, I'll just get some money upstairs," I told him.

He nodded, still not showing his face. I was about to close the door when I noticed that he wasn't in a delivery guy uniform. Instead, he had a black shirt with some kind of rock band design on it, ripped skinny jeans, and black converse shoes.

He must have noticed that I haven't closed the door because he smiled mischievously under his cap.

"You're the delivery guy?" I asked, not really convinced that Rodrick would have a part-time job.

He looked up at me and said, "Yep."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Where's the real delivery guy?"

"Don't know," he said, putting his hands in his pockets.

"What did you do to him?" I asked suspiciously.

He shrugged and shook his head. "Nothing."

"Oh my gosh, did you hurt him? What—?"

"Why the heck would I do that?"

I stuck my head out of the door and looked from left to right. No one was there except us. "Heffley–"

"Prescott."

"What do you want?"

"You."

"What?"

"Could we talk? Inside?" He gestured to the direction of my house.

"No. Where's the delivery guy? I have to pay for this."

"Don't worry about that dude! Now, do you mind if I come in?" He took I step but I stopped him.

"I do mind, Rodrick. I don't want you in my house. Just... leave me alone. Don't you have band practice or something?"

"None of your business. Let's talk about the project now!"

"Where the heck is the delivery guy?" I tiptoed to peek behind Rodrick. "How will I pay for this pizza?"

He ignored the question. "Come on, Prescott. The English project. I want in."

"Why should I take you back? You'll just ditch me again."

"I won't. I promise—"

"You already said that before." I stepped back, and let the door close. I wasn't able to lock it, though. My hands were full.

I walked to the dining room and placed the pizza on the table. Rodrick went inside and followed me there. "What are you doing here? Get out!" I said and then pushed him to the direction of the door.

"Prescott, come on. I need to pass that class!" he said.

"You should've thought of that before you did all those things!" I said, still pushing him with lots of effort.

"I said I won't do it again!" he exclaimed as we reached the door. He faced me and said, "Forget about what happened last week. Give me a chance!"

"I don't get you." I opened the door and pushed him again outside. He resisted a little but took a step back anyway. "You ditched me more than once, yelled at me, and blamed me for what happened at the party! Then you ignore me for weeks—"

"You ignored me too!" he commented.

"—and now, you're asking me to work with you again?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah. See? You do get it!"

"Do you know how hard it is work with someone like that?" I said. He just stood there and seemed like he was thinking of a retort. I shook my head and closed the door, my back then leaning on it.

He kept on knocking again. "Hey! Come on, Prescott." I heard him curse outside when I didn't reply. He stopped knocking but continued talking. "Dude, you can't finish that project alone!"

"Of course I can!" I answered.

"Even if you can, what are you gonna tell Mr. Martins, huh? You're gonna ask him if you can work solo? He won't allow you–"

"You don't know that."

"I do. I asked him yesterday! Besides, everyone in the class has a partner. And that dude's all for equality and stuff."

"Whatever. I can convince him!"

"Or we can just work together again."

"No, thanks."

He groaned. "That whole party thing's done already! Move on, will you?" He banged on the door and then continued, "What will it take to convince you?! I already paid for your pizza!"

"I..." He paid for my pizza? What? That's so not Rodrick. It kind of made sense though, because the delivery guy was nowhere to be seen. But I have to think about this first. "W-Whatever. I'll pay you on Monday! Just... go away! Go back to your band practice!" It was past 7, and when we met up for the project before this huge fight, he told me he had band practice at 6 on Saturdays.

It took a few seconds before he replied, "I cancelled band practice today just so I can talk to you!"

I didn't respond immediately. Rodrick considers band practice as one of his top priorities. And he cancelled it for this? Maybe he really meant everything he said.

He knocked again. And then stopped. "Okay, fine. Whatever. Forget it–"

I opened the door a bit, enough for a part of my face to peek through. "Really?"

He was about to turn back when I said that. He faced me again, placing his hands back in his pockets. "Really what?"

I opened the door wider and leaned on the jamb. "You cancelled band practice for this? You're not lying?"

He pulled his hands out of his pocket and threw them in the air. "I'm not! How many times do I have to tell you?"

I pushed myself from the jamb and then allowed him to enter. "Finally," he muttered. I closed the door and followed behind him when he got inside.

While I took the pizza from the dining table, bringing it to the living room, he sat on the couch and made himself comfortable. "What the hell are you watching?"

"Seriously? Dude, that's The Sound of Music." I placed the box beside my laptop on the small table in front of us.

He smirked, and then looked up at me and said, "So... Let's start!"

"Wait," I said, crossing my arms. "What's the catch?"

"What catch?" he asked innocently.

Rodrick isn't the type of person who actually cares about school. Asking me to work with him again for the project was suspicious enough. "You obviously have a hidden agenda or something. Why else would you want back in?"

"Huh? No catch, Prescott. Don't you trust me?"

"Let me clear something up. Just because I allowed you to go inside my house and do this entire English thing with me, it doesn't mean I trust you."

Rodrick nodded. I noticed his hand reaching for the box. I slapped it away.

I continued, "And it doesn't mean you're forgiven. You didn't even say sorry." I asked him to move over so I could sit. "And this is my pizza. You don't get to have some unless I say so."

He raised his hands as if surrendering. "Okay, ma'am. Whatever. I obviously have to work with you or else I'll fail."

"Rodrick Heffley concerned about his grades? Ha. I don't believe this." I started opening the pizza box.

"My parents will kill me if I–"

"Uhh... Why does this pizza have missing slices?" I asked, pointing at it. Then I glared at Rodrick.

He shrugged. "It smelled so good when the delivery guy gave it to me." I rolled my eyes and took a slice. Rodrick continued, "Everything's been bad so far, so let's start over?"

I sighed deeply. I hope I don't regret this decision. "Fine," I answered reluctantly.

"Great." He rubbed his hands together as if plotting something exciting.

"Wait. Before we continue... have you finished reading it?"

He made a face. A defensive one. "Psh. Yeah. Two weeks ago."

"I want the truth." I took another pizza slice.

"I am telling the t-truth."

"Nope. Here we go again... I'll give you pizza when you admit it–"

"Yeah, okay I'm just halfway through." He grabbed a slice and stuffed it in his mouth. "Bet you haven't finished it yet too," he said while chewing.

"In fact, I have. I finished it today."

"Nerd," he muttered, getting another slice of pizza.

"Hey!" I punched his shoulder softly as I finished my slice of pizza. I took another one. "Finish that book already. How can we be productive if you just rely on me to do all the work?"

"Okay, I will. Quit worrying!"

"Well, forgive me. I don't want to have a lazy partner. Deal with it."

"I'm trying to."

"Okay. So we'll stick to the schedule–"

"Can we just work on Saturdays? Deadline's not so close."

"What time? You have band practice on Saturdays, remember?"

"Then we'll do it before band practice, duh."

"Okay, whatever. As long as we don't end up cramming–"

"We won't, okay? Just chill." he said, grabbing the half-finished slice of pizza I was holding.

"Can't you just—ugh, nevermind." There was no point in calling his attention for that. I can never understand this person. I sighed and took another slice.

"It's all set then," he said, looking straight at the television, talking with his mouth full.

"Yeah," I replied, looking at the T.V. as well. "Don't talk with your mouth full. It's disgusting."

He stuffed the entire thing in his mouth and said next to my ear, "Well, too bad you're not my mommy."

I pushed away his face with my free hand. He snickered like an idiot.

A few minutes later, the telephone rang. I answered it. It was my mom informing me that they're on the way home.

"You can get out of my house now," I told Rodrick after the call. I sat on the couch again. "My parents will be home soon."

"I'm still lazy." He stretched his long arms and leaned on me.

"Get off! You're so heavy!" I said, pushing him. The telephone rang again. "Leave now. They're almost here."

"Ah, fine." He stood up. "Susan might think I sneaked off again."

"Uh, you did sneak off, right?" I said sarcastically as I followed him to the door. I opened it and said, "Now, bye. Finish that book."

He yawned. "Yeah, yadda, yadda." He pulled the door close.

. . . . . . . . . .

Two weeks went on. It was already the last week of October. Everything's okay. Our progress was not fast enough, though. When we talk, there are lots of interruptions, side comments, insults at each other, etcetera. But at least there is progress. From time to time, we stayed at the library (usually during half of the lunch break). Rodrick was trying to finish the book. He's a very slow reader. I don't even know if he understands half of what he's reading.

Nevertheless, I'm kind of glad he's exerting effort. Who knows? There could be a slim chance that he's changing for the better. But... I don't know. This guy is difficult to understand. Remember that time I thought we could be friends? Yeah that never really happened. I do hope we could get this project over with... soon.

We also pushed through with the Saturday meetings, by the way. We've only had one so far. And we're having one today.

I walked to his house, carrying a small bag, my laptop, and my book.

I rang the doorbell. About half a minute later, the door opened.

"Ready?" I asked, managed a small smile, before Rodrick's face even fully came to view.

His eyes widened and his face looked worried. He muttered something very discreetly. But I still heard it. "Oh shit."