Rodrick Rules (Diary of a Wimpy Kid, Volume 2)
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Diary of a Wimpy Kid: Rodrick Rules (Diary of a Wimpy Kid #2)
Jeff Kinney
TO JULIE, WILL, AND GRANT
SEPTEMBER
Monday
I guess Mom was pretty proud of herself for making me write in that journal last year, because now she went and bought me another one.
But remember how I said that if some jerk caught me carrying a book with "diary" on the cover they were gonna get the wrong idea? Well, that's exactly what happened today.
[Image: A cartoon showing a boy beating another boy.] "My brother Rodrick"
Now that Rodrick knows I have another journal, I better remember to keep this one locked up. Rodrick actually got ahold of my LAST journal a few weeks back, and it was a disaster. But don't even get me started on THAT story.
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Even without my Rodrick problems, my summer was pretty lousy.
Our family didn't go anywhere or do anything fun, and that's Dad's fault. Dad made me join the swim team again, and he wanted to make sure I didn't miss any meets this year.
[Image: A cartoon of three people urging the three boys before a swimming race.] "Kill 'Em, Brandon!, No Mercy Todd!, Stop Shivering Greg!"
Dad's got this idea that I'm destined to be a great swimmer or something, so that's why he makes me join the team every summer.
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At my first swim meet a couple of years ago, Dad told me that when the umpire shot off the starter pistol, I was supposed to dive in and start swimming.
But what he DIDN'T tell me was that the starter gun only fired BLANKS.
So I was a whole lot more worried about where the bullet was gonna land than I was about getting myself to the other end of the pool.
[Image: A cartoon showing a swimming race between three boys and out of them one boy has sunk to the ground.]
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Even after Dad explained the whole "starter pistol" concept to me, I was still the worst swimmer on the team.
But I did end up winning "Most Improved" at the awards banquet at the end of the summer. That's only because there was a ten-minute difference between my first race and my last one.
So I guess Dad's still waiting for me to live up to my potential.
[Image: A cartoon of a boy being patted on his back for the award as the mother and brother look on.]
In a lot of ways, being on the swim team was worse than being in middle school.
First of all, we had to be at the pool by 7:30 every morning, and the water was always FREEZING cold.
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And second of all, we were all crammed into two lanes, so I always had somebody on my tail trying to get around me.
[Image: A cartoon of three boys swimming.]
The reason we had to use two lanes was because swim practice was at the same time as the Water Jazz class.
I actually tried to convince Dad to let me do Water Jazz instead of swim team, but he wouldn't go for it.
[Image: A cartoon of some people learning water jazz from their instructor.] "Come on, Ladies! Get Those Arms Up!
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This was the first summer the coach let us boys wear swim trunks instead of those skimpy racing trunks. But Mom said Rodrick's hand-me-down bathing suit was "perfectly fine."
[Image: A cartoon of a boy being made fun of by his two friends.] " Your friends will be jealous because you'll be so fast!, Ha Ha Ha!, Ha Ha Ha!"
After swim practice, Rodrick would pick me up in his band's van. Mom had this crazy idea that if me and Rodrick spent "quality time" on the ride home every day, we wouldn't fight as much. But all it did was make things a lot worse.
Rodrick was always a half hour late picking me up.
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And he wouldn't let me sit up front. He said the chlorine would ruin his seat, even though the van is something like fifteen years old.
[Image: A cartoon of a boy in the truck telling the other to climb in the truck.] "Get in Back."
Rodrick's van doesn't actually have any seats in the back, so I had to squeeze in with all the band equipment. And every time the van came to a stop, I had to pray I didn't get my head taken off by one of Rodrick's drums.
[Image: A cartoon of a boy falling backwards due to the sudden movement of the truck.]
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I ended up walking home every day instead of getting a ride from Rodrick. I figured it was better to just walk the two miles than to get brain damage riding in the back of that van.
Halfway through the summer, I decided I was pretty much done with swim team. So I came up with a trick to get out of practice.
I'd swim a few laps, and then I'd ask the coach if I could use the bathroom. Then I'd just hide out in the locker room until practice was over.
The only problem with my plan was that it was something like forty degrees in the boy's bathroom. So it was even colder in THERE than it was in the pool.
[Image: A cartoon of a boy shivering with cold while using the toilet.]
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I had to wrap myself up in toilet paper so I didn't get hypothermia.
[Image: A cartoon of a boy wrapped in toilet paper sitting on the toilet.]
That's how I spent a pretty big chunk of my summer vacation. And that's why I'm actually looking forward to going back to school tomorrow.
Tuesday
When I got to school today, everybody was acting all strange around me, and at first I didn't know WHAT was up.
[Image: A cartoon of children screaming and running away from a boy.] "Scream!, Scream!"
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Then I remembered: I still had the Cheese Touch from LAST year. I got the Cheese Touch in the last week of school, and over the summer I COMPLETELY forgot about it.
The problem with the Cheese Touch is that you've got it until you can pass it on to someone else. But nobody would even get within thirty feet of me, so I knew I was gonna be stuck with the Cheese Touch for the whole school year.
Luckily, there was a new kid named Jeremy Pindle in homeroom, so that took care of THAT problem.
[Image: A cartoon of a boy talking to another.] "Welcome to our school, Jeremy!"
My first class was Pre-Algebra, and the teacher put me right next to Alex Aruda, the smartest kid in the whole class.
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Alex is SUPER easy to copy off of, because he always finishes his test early and puts his paper down on the floor next to him. So if I ever get in a pinch, it's nice to know I can count on Alex to bail me out.
Kids whose last names start with the first few letters of the alphabet get called on the most by the teacher, and that's why they end up being the smartest.
Some people think that's not true, but if you want to come down to my school, I can prove it.
[Image: A cartoon of a smart kid and a dumb kid.] "Alex Aruda, Christopher Ziegel"
I can only think of ONE kid who broke the last-name rule, and that's Peter Uteger. Peter was the smartest kid in the class all the way up until the fifth grade.
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That's when a bunch of us started giving him a hard time about how his initials sounded when you said them out loud.
[Image: A cartoon of three children in a classroom.] "Teacher the answer to that question is..., P.U! P.U!, Yeah! P.U.! P.U!"
These days, Peter doesn't raise his hand at ALL, and he's pretty much a C student.
I guess I feel a little bad about the whole P.U. thing and what happened to Peter. But it's hard not to take credit whenever it comes up.
[Image: A cartoon of a boy trying to talk to the girl in front of him in the class.] "I started that"
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Anyway, today I got pretty decent seats in all my classes except
seventh-period History. My teacher is Mr. Huff, and something tells me he had Rodrick as a student a few years back.
[Image: A cartoon of a teacher telling the boy to sit in the chair near him.] "Mr. Heffley, you'll be sitting in this chair next to my desk."
Wednesday
Mom has been making me and Rodrick help out more around the house, and now the two of us are responsible for doing the dishes every night.
The rule is that we're not allowed to watch any TV or play video games until all the dishes are done. But let me just say that Rodrick is the WORST dishes partner in the world.
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As soon as dinner is over, he goes upstairs to the bathroom and camps out there for an hour. And by the time he comes back downstairs, I'm already done.
[Image: A cartoon of two boys in front of the kitchen sink.] "I'm ready to start!"
But if I ever complain to Mom and Dad, Rodrick always pulls out the same lame excuse:
[Image: A cartoon of a family listening to a boy intently.] "My body is on schedule."
I think Mom and Dad are too worried about my little brother, Manny, to get involved in a fight between me and Rodrick right now anyway.
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Yesterday, Manny drew a picture at day care, and Mom and Dad got really upset when they found it in his backpack.
[Image: A drawing of a boy being hounded by two shouting adults.]
Mom and Dad thought the picture was supposed to be of THEM, so now they're acting all lovely in front of Manny.
[Image: A cartoon of a couple acting lovingly in front of their child.] "I love you soooo much!, And I love you so much!"
I knew who it was REALLY supposed to be in the picture: me and Rodrick.
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We got into a big blowout over the remote control the other night, and Manny was there to witness the whole thing. But Mom and Dad don't need to find out about THAT.
Thursday
Another reason my summer was kind of lame was because my best friend, Rowley, was on vacation pretty much the whole time. I think he went to South America or something, but to be honest with you, I'm not really sure.
I don't know if this makes me a bad person or whatever, but it's hard for me to get interested in other people's vacations.
[Image: A cartoon of two boys talking and pointing at the globe which is on the table.] "And then we're gonna get on a boat and cruise down this river..., MM HMM...Hey have you ever noticed this freckle before?"
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Besides, it seems like Rowley's family is always traveling to some crazy place in the world, and I can never keep their trips straight.
The other reason I don't care about Rowley's trips is because whenever Rowley comes back from one of his vacations, he always crams it down my throat.
Last year, Rowley and his family went to Australia for ten days, but from the way he acted when he got back, you'd think he lived there his whole life.
[Image: A cartoon of a boy welcoming his friend into his house.] "G'day Mate!"
Another thing that's really annoying is that whenever Rowley goes to some new country, he gets into whatever fad is going on over there.
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Like when Rowley got back from Europe two years ago, he got hooked on this pop singer named "Joshie," who I guess is some huge star or something. So Rowley came back with his bags full of Joshie CDs and posters and stuff.
[Image: A cover of a Joshie CD.] "Wild animal heart"
I took one look at the picture on the CD and told Rowley that Joshie was supposed to be for six-year-old girls, but he didn't believe me.
Rowley said I was just jealous because he was the one who "discovered" Joshie.
And what made it really irritating was that now this guy was Rowley's new hero. So if I ever tried to say anything critical at all, Rowley didn't want to hear it.
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[Image: A cartoon of two boys in the bedroom.] "Joshie says you should respect your parents and follow your dreams!"
Speaking of foreign countries, today in French class, Madame Lefrere told us we're going to be choosing pen pals this year.
When Rodrick was in middle school, he had a seventeen-year-old girl from Holland as his pen pal. I know because I've seen the letters in his junk drawer.
[Image: A picture of a girl and a note stuck beside it.] "I like the sunshiny days & ice-cream. Day you too?"
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When Madame Lefrere handed out the forms, I made sure I checked off the boxes that would get me a pen pal just like Rodrick's.
But after Madame Lefrere read over my form, she made me start over and pick again. She said I had to choose a boy who is my age, AND he has to be French. So I don't exactly have high hopes for my pen-pal experience.
[Image: A picture of a boy and a note in French.] "Je m'appelle "Philippe""
Friday
Mom decided to start making Rodrick pick me up after school, just like he picked me up after swim practice. I guess that means she didn't learn from THAT experience. But I did. So when Rodrick picked me up today, I asked him to please take it easy on the brakes.
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Rodrick said OK, but then he went out of his way to find every speed bump in town.
[Image: A cartoon of a boy driving his truck rashly over the speed breakers.] "Ouch
Crash"
When I got out of the van, I called Rodrick a big jerk, and then it got physical. Mom saw the whole thing unfold from the living room window.
[Image: A cartoon of the two boys fighting their mother looks at them.]
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Mom made us come inside, and she sat us down at the kitchen table. Then she said me and Rodrick were going to have to settle our differences in a "civil manner."
Mom told me and Rodrick we each had to write down what we did wrong, and then we had to draw a picture to go along with it. And I knew exactly where Mom was going with THAT idea.
Mom used to be a preschool teacher, and whenever a kid would do something wrong, she'd make him draw a picture of it. I guess the idea was to make the kid feel ashamed of what he did so he wouldn't do it again.
[Image: A cartoon of a boy breaking the crayons I front of the three crying children.] "I will not break the crayons because that makes the other children very sad."
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Well, Mom's idea might have worked great on a bunch of four-year-olds, but she's going to have to think of something better if she wants me and Rodrick to get along.
[Image: A cartoon of a boy teasing a child.] "I will not call Rodrick names.
Bunny Rabbit!
Waaaah!"
[Image: A cartoon of a boy pushing another off the edge.] "I will not push Gregory.
Aieee!"
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The truth is, Rodrick can pretty much treat me any way he wants, because he knows there's nothing I can do about it.
See, Rodrick is the only one who knows about this REALLY embarrassing thing that happened to me over the summer, and he's been holding it over my head ever since. So if I ever tell on him for anything, he'll spill my secret to the whole world.
I just wish I had some dirt on HIM to even things out.
I do know ONE embarrassing thing about Rodrick, but I don't think it's gonna do me any good.
When Rodrick was a sophomore, he was sick the day they did school photos. So Mom told Dad to mail in Rodrick's freshman picture for the school to use in the yearbook.
Don't ask me how Dad screwed this up, but he sent in Rodrick's SECOND-grade picture.
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And believe it or not, it actually got printed.
[Image: Pictures of four children .] " Harrington Leonard
Hatley Andrew
Heffley Rodrick
Hills Heather"
Unfortunately, Rodrick was smart enough to rip that page out of his yearbook. So if I'm ever gonna find something to use against him, I guess I have to keep digging.
Wednesday
Ever since Mom assigned the dishes to me and Rodrick, Dad's bee
n going down to the furnace room after dinner to work on this miniature Civil War battlefield of his.
[Image: A cartoon of a man making a model of a battle field.]
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Dad spends at least three hours a night down there working on that thing. I think Dad would be happy to spend the whole weekend working on his battlefield, but Mom has OTHER plans for him.
Mom likes to rent these romantic comedies, and she makes Dad watch them with her. But I know Dad is just waiting for the first chance to break away and go back down to the basement.
[Image: A cartoon of a boy thinking about his model as he watches T.V with his Mom.] "Kiss Smooch"
Whenever Dad can't be down in the furnace room, he makes sure us kids keep away from it.
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Dad won't let me or Rodrick go NEAR his battlefield, because he thinks we're gonna mess something up.
And earlier today I overheard Dad say something to Manny to make sure HE doesn't go poking around back there, either.
[Image: A cartoon of a man talking to the child.] "I think I just heard some grunting noises coming from the furnace room."
Saturday
Rowley came over to my house today. Dad doesn't like it when Rowley comes over, because Dad always says Rowley is "accident prone." I think it's because this one time Rowley was eating dinner here, and he dropped a plate and broke it.
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So now Dad has this idea that Rowley is going to ruin his whole Civil War battlefield in one klutzy move.
[Image: A cartoon of a boy bouncing and about to land on the model.] "Duh, Bounce."