Greg Heffley’s Disastrous Matchmaking:

Tuesday, September 23

Greg Heffley was minding his own business in the cafeteria, sketching a comic about himself as a superhero, when Rowley Jefferson dropped a bombshell. “Greg, I think I’m in love,” Rowley said, his eyes wide and his cheeks redder than the ketchup on his tater tots.

Greg nearly choked on his soda. “In love? With who? Your stuffed dinosaur?”

“No!” Rowley whispered, glancing around like he was in a spy movie. “With Nikki Maxwell."

Greg groaned. Nikki? The glitter-obsessed transfer student who’d already invaded his life with her sparkly diary and sassy comebacks? This was a disaster. Rowley was his best friend, but the guy had the romantic skills of a soggy French fry. Still, Greg saw an opportunity. If he helped Rowley win Nikki’s heart, maybe he’d score some cool points—or at least get Rowley to stop whining.

"Fine,” Greg said, slamming his journal shut. “I’ll help you win her over. But you owe me, like, a lifetime supply of cheese puffs.

”Rowley grinned so wide Greg thought his face might split. “You’re the best, Greg!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Greg muttered. “Let’s just get this over with.”


Wednesday, September 24

Greg’s first plan was simple: make Rowley look cool. Rowley is naive, cheerful, and totally clueless about social cues, so this was going to be like teaching a goldfish to ride a bike. Greg decided to start with Rowley’s wardrobe, which was currently a disaster of cartoon T-shirts and cargo shorts.

“Dude, you can’t wear a shirt with a puppy on it,” Greg said, dragging Rowley to his closet after school. “Nikki’s artsy. She probably likes guys who look… I dunno, like rock stars or something."

Rowley held up a tie-dye shirt with a smiley face. “This is cool, right?”

Greg facepalmed. “No. You’re borrowing my leather jacket.” It was actually pleather and two sizes too big for Greg, but it was the coolest thing he owned. Rowley put it on and looked like a kid playing dress-up as a biker, but Greg figured it was better than nothing.

Next, Greg coached Rowley on what to say. “Nikki’s into drawing and stuff, so compliment her art. But don’t be weird about it. And don’t mention Zoo-Wee Mama. She already thinks it’s lame.”Rowley nodded, scribbling notes on his hand. “Got it. Compliment art. Be cool. Don’t talk about dinosaurs."

Greg sighed. This was going to be a long week.


Thursday, September 25

The plan went into action at lunch. Greg had instructed Rowley to “casually” sit near Nikki and her friends, Chloe and Zoey, and drop some smooth lines. Greg watched from a safe distance, ready to swoop in if things went south.

Rowley, drowning in Greg’s pleather jacket, shuffled over to Nikki’s table. “H-hey, Nikki,” he stammered, his voice cracking. “Your drawings are, um, super… artistic. Like, Picasso-level stuff!”

Nikki looked up from her Dork Diaries, surprised but amused. “Uh, thanks, Rowley. That’s… sweet.” Chloe and Zoey giggled, and Rowley’s face turned tomato-red.

Then it happened. Rowley, trying to lean casually on the table, missed and knocked over Nikki’s soda, sending it splashing across her sketchbook. Glittery ink bled everywhere, and Nikki yelped, “My diary!”

“Oh no! I’m so sorry!” Rowley flailed, grabbing napkins and accidentally smearing the ink further. Greg cringed from across the cafeteria. This was worse than the time Rowley got stuck in the playground slide.

Nikki, true to her resilient nature, didn’t freak out. She sighed, wiped the soda off her hands, and said, “It’s fine, Rowley. Accidents happen. I’m a klutz too, remember?”

Rowley looked like he might cry from embarrassment, but Nikki’s smile seemed to calm him down. Greg, however, was not calm. His plan was tanking, and now Nikki’s diary looked like a tie-dye experiment gone wrong.


Friday, September 26

Greg wasn’t giving up. Plan B: a grand gesture. He’d read in some magazine (okay, his mom’s magazine) that girls love romantic surprises. So, he convinced Rowley to serenade Nikki with a song during the school talent show that night. Rowley, being the cheerful optimist he is, agreed, even though he couldn’t sing to save his life.

Greg wrote the lyrics, which were basically a rip-off of a pop song with Nikki’s name awkwardly inserted. He also “borrowed” a ukulele from the music room (without asking, because that’s how Greg rolls). Rowley practiced all afternoon, sounding like a cat stuck in a washing machine.

At the talent show, Greg stood backstage, giving Rowley a pep talk. “Just don’t look at the crowd. Focus on Nikki. And don’t trip over the cord.

”Rowley nodded, clutching the ukulele like a life preserver. Nikki was in the audience with Chloe and Zoey, sketching in a new notebook (the soda incident had ruined her old one). When Rowley took the stage, the crowd went quiet—mostly out of confusion.

Rowley strummed the ukulele and sang, off-key and way too loud: “Oh, Nikki Maxwell, you’re so cool / Your glittery diary makes my heart drool!” The lyrics got worse from there. Greg had thought “drool” rhymed with “cool,” but now he realized it sounded like Rowley was obsessed with saliva.

The audience started snickering, and Nikki’s eyes widened in secondhand embarrassment. But then MacKenzie Hollister, Nikki’s nemesis, stood up and yelled, “Boo! Get off the stage, loser!” That was Greg’s cue. He wasn’t about to let MacKenzie ruin his plan.

Greg grabbed a microphone and jumped onstage. “Yo, MacKenzie, sit down! Rowley’s killing it!” He started beatboxing (badly) to back Rowley up, hoping to salvage the performance. The crowd laughed harder, but now it was more like they were laughing with them. Nikki, to Greg’s shock, started clapping along, and soon Chloe and Zoey joined in. The whole thing turned into a chaotic, hilarious mess, with Rowley strumming wildly and Greg spitting into the mic.

When they finally stumbled offstage, Nikki ran up, laughing so hard she could barely talk. “You guys are INSANE! Rowley, that was… brave. And Greg, what was that beatboxing? You sounded like a lawnmower!

”Rowley blushed. “You didn’t hate it?”

“Nah,” Nikki said, grinning. “It was kind of adorable. In a totally dorky way.”

Greg smirked. “Told you I’m a genius.”

Nikki rolled her eyes. “Keep dreaming, Heffley.”


Monday, September 29

In the end, Rowley didn’t “win Nikki’s heart” in the romantic sense. Nikki thought he was sweet but made it clear she saw him as a friend. Rowley, being Rowley, was just happy she didn’t hate him. Greg, meanwhile, was annoyed his matchmaking failed but secretly relieved—Nikki was too much trouble to deal with as a friend, let alone as Rowley’s girlfriend.

In his journal, Greg wrote: “Operation Make Rowley Cool was a bust, but at least I got some laughs. Nikki’s not the worst, but she’s still way too glittery. Note to self: never play matchmaker again.

”In her diary, Nikki scribbled: “Rowley’s crush was SO cute, but I’m not ready for middle school romance. Greg’s ‘help’ was a total disaster, but I gotta admit, it was HILARIOUS. These guys are dorks, but they’re MY dorks now. SQUEE!”