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Chapter Text

"Rowley." Greg snapped his fingers in front of Rowley, his best friend's face to catch his attention. "Hey, are you listening? This is important business."
Meanwhile Rowley himself, snapped out of his daze. "Oh! Sorry, Greg!"

Just as Greg was about to say something to Rowley about devoting his attention to Greg (because, duh, he is the MOST important person in Rowley's life) , his jaw suddenly falls open. The ginger haired boy notices his best friend's jaw hanging basically unhinged, and tilts his head.

"Wha-"

And then he saw them. Strolling through the hallways like they owned the place, like the ultimate symbol of power and popularity, like everything Greg's ever wanted. Bryce Anderson...and Holly?
Greg's just choked on his own saliva. "Rowley-tell me you aren't seeing-" he coughs, holding his throat dramatically, then continues, "this can't be real, right?"

As if she noticed Greg's piercing gaze on her, Holly Hills locks eyes with him. Then, she turns around fully. "Rowley!" She waves at Rowley, then back at Greg. "And...Fregley?"
Rowley gives Greg a pitiful side glance, but Greg is red as a tomato for some reason. "Yeah..that's.." he glances at the real Fregley, who's currently digging his nose, then gulps. "...me."

Before they can speak more, Bryce yanks her around, twirling her into his arms. Greg's eye can't help but twitch at how good those stupid biceps look on Bryce's arm. He's one second away from losing it, and--

"Hehehe-" Holly giggles, as Bryce peppers her with a kiss. "Bryce!"

That's it. Greg throws away his juice can, aiming for the trash. It doesn't land, but who cares? This is like, the worst day ever! But he's fine, even if Holly couldn't care less about him, and those irritating looks of pity Rowley's giving him are starting to get on his nerves. He's fine!

Noticing Greg storming out, Holly raises a brow. She untangles herself from Bryce, who's already adjusting his messed up tie. Holly walks up to Rowley, who's skin is pale now.

"Is Fregley okay?" She asks, twirling a blonde lock of hair around her finger unconsciously. "He seems upset."

Rowley's eyes follow Greg's fast retreating form, and he doesn't know whether to follow the boy or give him some space. "I...don't know, Holly."

On the other hand, Greg is fuming. He slams the bathroom door open and practically pounces into the first stall (he usually NEVER goes to the first stall because of the mysterious vomit incident, but this time's a exception).

As soon as he's in, his back leans against the door and he slides onto the cold, tiled floor. Why does he care so much? 

At instinct, he grabs his journal and writes out his messy thoughts. The pen moves at light speed.

When he's done, he stares down at the page with slight satisfaction. See? He didn't care that much anyway. He was just...taken by surprise!

Huh...what's this wet thing sliding down my cheek? Am I crying?

Dots of water fall on his paper, and he can't hold back the soft whimper that escapes his quivering lips. No, no...

He tries using the usual things that help him feel less sad, like...his dad wouldn't like seeming him being weak, uh, he's one of the best people he knows, and...

"Ngh..." he sniffles. This is pointless.

As if his morning couldn't get any worse, the bell rings. Loudly. Great, it's time for school to start. Rushing, he tosses his bag over his shoulder and runs to geography class. What he doesn't notice, however, is that his bag feels suddenly lighter.

Panting, he pushes open the classroom door with the last of his strength. Internally, he's praying that they'll just be playing Geo-Guesser or something. A bead of sweat slides down this neck as Ms. Morgan faces him with those exhausted but somehow fiery eyes. "Greg. Heffley."

"...Yes?" He chokes out, and she slams her ruler on the desk in front of her. Everyone looks up, and Greg can see they're definitely NOT playing Geo-Guesser. 

Ms. Morgan shakes her head in disbelief and gestures towards the front seat. "Quiz. Sit down."

A Quiz!? I didn't study at all!  

Greg watches as a white sheet of paper is placed on his table. The minute he sees the word 'erosion' he knows he's cooked. "Thanks..." he smiles awkwardly, and Ms. Morgan doesn't return the gesture.

This is the second time this year Greg has had a geography quiz he hasn't studied for! Second! Oh man, he doesn't want to go to summer school after the next 8 months...

And his popularity hopes have already kissed his ass goodbye. He was honestly 18th/ 200 at the start of the year, and now he's around 72nd...oh, sorry, yeah, different types of rocks...

-----------

"Times up," Ms. Morgan announces, jerking the exam paper out of Greg's sweaty palms then proceeding with everyone else. As soon as she's finished collecting the papers, the class erupts into whispers. And Greg? Oh, he knows he's not getting over a 40.

His best friend approaches him frantically. "Greg! What did you get on question 9?"

"Huh.." Greg slowly blinks. "Oh, um...what was nine again?"

"The one about sea level," Rowley fires back.

Sea level? Oh, wait.

"Haha," Greg laughs nervously.

Rowley's bright eyes don't dim. "What was it?! You got it, didn't you?"

The shorter boy's face suddenly turns serious. "No, Rowley, I drew a doodle of a solar panel that looked more like a waffle."

Rowley laughs, then realizes Greg was being serious. "...Oh."

With a scoff, Greg storms out for the second time today. This time however, Rowley follows closely behind. "Greg! It's okay, you're still my friend!"

Greg's feature soften, and as he's about to turn around, Rowley continues, "...and if you want, you could come over to my house today to play!"

What was supposed to be a wholesome moment turns into a wave of snickers across the hallway.

"Did he say play?" "I knew there was something up with that Greg Heffley kid" "Haha lol"

Turns out Rowley gets on my nerves more often than sometimes.

------

I'm perfect, Bryce Anderson thinks as he sifts a hand through his fluffy blonde hair and smirks at the mirror version of himself. Absolutely perfect.

His blue eyes glisten in that confident way, and he turns away from the mirror. Life's amazing ; He's at the peak of his popularity even in high school, he's finally gotten himself a hot girlfriend for his image, and he's going to crush the upcoming basketball game.

So why does life feel so boring? Like no matter what he does, everything's the same. Everything's not even exciting anymore. 

Just as he's about to leave for math, he notices a pipsqueak, or nerd, running out of the first stall in a rush. Huh. What's got him so stirred up? 

Instead of debating what it was, Bryce steps closer to the stall the guy was in. He slides the door open to see...a diary lying on the floor. If it didn't have this big DIARY written on the cover, Bryce would have assumed it's some kind of history book or whatever. The blond leans down, picking up the book. 

Interesting...he writes his life story in here or something. A few chuckles later, Bryce turns the next page to see something he wasn't expecting. His name. And his girlfriend's!

I hate that Bryce Anderson guy so much! And I have a perfect reason! He stole Holly from me, and he probably doesn't even treat her right. I mean, even though I've only seen them smiling together, I know he's probably just making her pretend, and we ALL know I'm a much better guy for her. Bryce has this weird vibe...like he fakes it all, but I can't really place it..

Bryce grits his teeth and scrolls onto the next page.

For some reason my chest hurts, and feels heavy. Is this what dying of a broken heart means? I heard swans do

The rest of the handwriting is barely readable, and there's these drops of water that blur the other ink this kid must have scribbled down. Wait, drops of water? Was he crying? His calloused fingers trace the tear shaped droplets, and for a second, Bryce almost feels bad. But then he remembers the two-pages of insults this kid just directed towards him. 

He turns to the first page once again.

THIS BOOK BELONGS TO : Greg Heffley

Noted then, Greg Heffley. See you soon.

Chapter Text

Snickers and mocking laugher echo in Greg's ears. He had told Rowley every time to say 'hang out' and not play! Turns out he's not even mature enough for high school? Yelling won't help now. Maybe some days are meant to be terrible, or something.

"Greg, I'm sorry-"

"Oh, so you're Gregory Heffley, am I right?" Bryce freaking Anderson stands facing Rowley, a hand squeezing the chubby boy's shoulder. 

The real Greg tilts his head. What could Bryce want with him? "Uh, no. I'm Gregory Heffley."

Bryce's cold blue eyes shift to Greg, and for the first time, Greg thought maybe he shouldn't have opened his mouth. 

"Well, hi," Bryce purrs, extending a hand for Greg to shake. "Greg."

The tone wasn't unkind. It was friendly, even. But behind that mask wasn't friendliness.

"Hey...?" Greg says softly, expression confused. He doesn't shake Bryce's hand. "Um-"

"You're scrawnier than I thought." Bryce looks him up and down.

Alright, that's it. "Okay. Do you need something? Because-"

Before Greg can continue, Bryce leans in close and whispers, "Locker room. End of day. If you don't show up, I'll find you."

And he walks off. Greg is still standing there reeling, and Bryce has just walked off! What the heck!

Rowley looks just as confuzzled. "What does he want? He's so scary..."

"Tell me about it," Greg mutters, bashing his locker door closed. "He said I have to meet him in the locker room after school."

"Really?" Rowley's eyebrows raise. "I wouldn't go if I were you."

Greg chuckles, "Yeah, but he said he's gonna 'find me.'"

---

3: 17 PM

"Okay class, pack up." Ms. Johnson scrubs the quadratic equations off the board. "Have a nice day!"

"Bye..." Greg murmurs softly, excusing himself. He's two minutes late already. 

Feet slowly coming to a stop, Greg has reached the Boys' locker room. It's dark, and damp. He steps inside warily. "Hello...?"

A lock clicks behind him. Greg's eyes widen. "Hello?!"

"Pftt-" Bryce laughs, standing near the door. "Look at your face!"

Greg jumps, then composes himself. "Bryce?"

"That's me." Bryce steps closer. Greg steps backwards. "You know, this thing..."

In his hands was a book, a very familiar book. Red, with a white DIARY written on the cover. 

"My dia--journal!" Greg exclaims, but his excitement is short lasted as he remembers the content in that book.

"Kind of cute, really," Bryce murmurs, taking a long stride closer to Greg, "the way you act like you know everything about everybody."

Greg freezes in place. "Excuse me?"

A sharp chuckle escapes Bryce's lips. He throws the diary across the room, and it hits a wall hard. "I mean, who the fuck do you think you are?"

Knees buckling but pride still holding strong, Greg snaps back, "It's none of your business what I think of people."

Bryce's breathing grows heavier. His hands ball up into fists. And for a split second, Greg thinks he'll be punched.

But he isn't.

The blond boy clicks his tongue, walking towards the exit and pushing past Greg hard enough to make him stumble. "Fucking sissy."

-----------------

6: 23 PM

Arms thrown up, Greg repeats into the phone, "And he called me a sissy! I can't believe it!"

On the other line, Rowley sighs. "I think you're asking for trouble."

"No-" Just as Greg's about to speak again, Rodrick shows up out of nowhere.

"Who called you a sissy?" Rodrick asks, his finger in his ear, digging for god knows what. "And was he right?"

"Ugh," Greg groans. "What do you want?" The younger brother hangs up the phone without informing Rowley, then faces Rodrick.

Rodrick smirks. "Just, you know," He says, "interested in my beloved younger brother's life."

Mom bucks. That's code for 'play along or I'll make you regret it, I need those mom bucks' - Greg doesn't even know what Rodrick needs money for, but whatever...

Reluctantly, he gives in. The brothers act like they can't see the ecstatic looks their mom is giving them, and Greg answers Rodrick's query quietly, "Bryce Anderson."

"Hahaha!" Rodrick lets out a surprised laugh. "Your first month of middle school and you already got the popular kids to hate you? You might be even worse than me at the end of the year."

Greg's cheeks flush in embarrassment. "Shut up. It wasn't my fault, he...he just found my journal!"

The older brother shakes his head. "Oh, Greggy, you're in for a wild ride." He walks past Greg, patting him on the shoulder. "I'm going for band practice. My advice hasn't changed from your first year of middle school~"

Greg exhales, then trots up to his room. Just what is he going to be in for tomorrow...?

Chapter Text

Wrong side of the bed for sure. That's all it is, Greg convinced himself.

He yawns, sitting up with a backache and a blaring alarm to snooze. Wait, what?

Shitshitshit, Greg thinks, internally facepalming at the fact that he forgot to turn off his alarm since yesterday, Friday.

Who wakes up at 6 am on a Saturday? Just as his arm's about to reach out and hit the off button, a cheerful voice jerks him,

"Oh, great, you're up!" Frank, his father, invites himself into Greg's room. "Good morning."

Frank turns off the alarm, looking at Greg expectantly. The boy, however, doesn't seem as enthusiastic.

"Yeah...good night..." In the next second, the covers are pulled over Greg, shielding him from the morning light his dad lets in by opening the window.

Frank swings his arm and the blanket is yanked away, Greg exposed to the light. He hisses like a vampire.

His father audibly sighs. "Wake up."

Finally sitting up, Greg rubs his eyes. "For what? It's a Saturday, I can sleep in!"

"First off," Frank starts, "sleeping in just to get up and play video games when I'm away is NOT happening."

How does he know? Did mom snitch on me?  "Huh? Dad, I would NEVER do that! I always go and...and...uh, work out outside!"

"Good try," Frank says, patting Greg on his ruffled hair. "Buddy."

-

Long story short, Greg is currently on his way to Camp Chipanook. Yes, for the second time.

"Dad...?" Greg says, his hand on the car's window as he says condolences to his cozy home and TV. Rain pours outside, matching his sadness (caused by the fact he can't play Twisted Wizard 3 for the fifteenth time today).

One hand on the driver's wheel and another jamming the key to start the car engine, Frank responds, "What?"

Putting on his best attempt at a convincing face, the brown-haired boy speaks once again. "So...I have a BAD feeling about going today. And I'm SERIOUS."

"A bad-" Frank suspires, threads of patience severing. "Okay, fine. Why do you have a 'bad feeling' ?"

A beat of silences passes. Wait, why is my mind suddenly blank?

Greg's father encourages him to go on, "Come on. Spill it, son."

After a rapid scroll through Greg's memories, a useful piece of information pops up. "Oh, yeah! Last time, I burned down that guy's tent!"

Frank narrows his eyes. "Why do you sound so happy about that ?"

Because it could get me out of this! Greg thinks. "What? I'm not happy about it at ALL. I just think to avoid any mishaps again-"

Vroom! The car has started moving ahead. "I don't think you'll be having any mishaps this time," Frank interrupts, glancing at Greg through the car view mirror, "unless you want to spend the next year in Spag Union."

Greg's skin pales. There's NO way he can go to that school. No freaking way. "...I don't feel bad anymore.."

His father leaves him with a face that clearly says 'told you so' as they continue to drive ahead. Greg bangs his head on the seat in front of him.

-

Finally, pulling into the driveway of Camp Chipanook, Frank's car comes to a stop. "We're here!"

Too already exhausted from the two-hour ride, Greg just nods. By the time they exit the car, his legs feel like jelly.

The earthy smell of nature immediately greets them, the forest enveloping the father and son in it's musk. Frank breathes in loudly. 

"Ah, what an amazing place!" hands on his hips, he takes in the dense greenery around them. "what do you think?"

What do I think? Oh, I don't know, maybe that I want to go HOME. "It's...nice." Greg puts on a strained smile.

Frank laughs. "I knew'd you'd love it!" Greg's father claps him on the back. "You're my son for sure!"

This is gonna be a long weekend. "Thanks, dad..."

The pair walk to the main campsite, meeting other campers. He really doesn't know anyone here.

Though from the corner of his eye, Greg can see Fregley, he's just gonna pretend that guy doesn't exist. 

"Hey!" Frank points at Fregley. "Isn't he your clas-"

Greg puts a finger on his mouth. "Shhh! Dad!" He whispers, lowering his dad's hand with his own. 

Frank's face contorts in confusion. "Why?" He whispers back, "you guys are classmates, right?"

"NO," Greg counters, shaking his head. "I don't know that guy."

Still confused but understanding, Frank accepts it. "Okay...? Let's just..let's go for lunch with the other campers."

At the restaurant, everyone seems to sit on one big table, so that's a big win for space and privacy. However, that doesn't really seem to matter that much to Greg. The only thing that matters is Fregley not recognizing him. So of course, he's wearing Rodrick's old baseball cap that hides his face.

Discreetly eating his French fries in little nibbles from habit, Greg accidently bumps into the stranger beside him. Assuming it's just some 50-year-old blond dude, Greg looks up just to apologize.

But you see, the guy WAS blond, but definitely NOT 50. "Sorr-Oh..."

"What the hell?" The boy snaps, his passion fruit juice spilled all over him. "Wait, Greg Heffley?"

Bryce Anderson! "Huh? Greg? Heffley? Who's that..haha...I'm, I'm uh..."

Bryce rolls his eyes. "Just save it. And don't get in my way again-"

"Oh, are you guys friends?" Frank exclaims, face lit up. Greg wants to dig a hole into the ground and bury himself in it. "How great!"

Just as Greg's about to tell his dad he doesn't know Bryce, he cuts in, "Yes. Greg's my classmate from school, you see!" An angelic smile is suddenly put on Bryce's face. 

Greg watches his dad and Bryce converse in disbelief. Not only that, how is Bryce pulling off the angel card? If you squint, Greg swears you can see a halo over his messy blond hair!

After a lengthy 3 minutes, his father turns to him. "Why don't you and Bryce here room together?" 

Greg spits out his fry. "W-what?!"

"You've heard me," Frank repeats, the smile on his face conveying that Greg doesn't have a choice. "So?"

Even Bryce looks taken aback. "Mr. Heffley-"

"Oh no, don't 'Mr. Heffley' me," Frank giggles, the sound uncanny to Greg's ears. "Have fun together, boys!" 

With a finishing pat on both of the boys' shoulders, Frank walks away, whistling to himself.

Once he's out of earshot, Bryce huffs in annoyance. He deliberately glares at Greg. 

After about a minute of death glares and awkward silence, Greg finally asks, "What ?"

Bryce looks at Greg like he's said something really stupid. "Look at the situation you put me in."

Greg throws his arms up. "I didn't put you in this situation. You did!"

"Whatever," Bryce mutters, then gestures to his passion fruit juice stained Levi's shirt. "this is still your mess." 

Finally fed up, Greg grabs tissues and shoves them into Bryce's chest, only to hurt his own hand slightly as the guy's chest is hard. Like, solid.

Sighing, Greg pulls his hand back after Bryce takes the tissues from him. "Sorry then," He says under his breath.

Bryce looks back at Greg with a smug face. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear it."

"I said," Greg snaps, "SORRY."

Frank, watching from a distance, smiles. "Look at them getting along so well," He points out to himself. A man passes by him and stops, seeing Frank staring dreamily at something and commenting on it to no one but himself. It kind-off freaks the guy out.

"Sir," The man says, catching Frank's attention. "Are you...schizophrenic..by chance?"

Frank's eye visibly twitches. "NO! Why does EVERYONE ask me THAT?"

As Frank's busy arguing with some random man, he doesn't see Greg's desperate looks demanding help. Oh god, he CAN'T room with this guy!

-