This is a silly idea I had a few days ago that I'm expanding on. The rating might go up to T, or maybe even to M in future chapters for coarse language and sexuality.
... Enjoy!
Backstabber
By AllzStar
Kyla shrugged deeper into her jacket, her hands shoved in her pockets. She always got so cold so easily. Maybe it was because she was so skinny. Her red curls were gathered in a ponytail at the back of her head, cascading down her back like an auburn waterfall. Her green ushanka was pulled low over her forehead and ears, another attempt to keep her frail body warm.
Beside her, her best friend Stan had the luxury of warm blood. His tuque barely covered his ears, and his gloves were stuffed in his jacket pocket to allow better access to his cell phone. He was texting somebody or other: probably Wendy, his sorry excuse for a girlfriend. He was the only sixteen-year-old boy Kyla knew that didn't make a single move on his girlfriend. He didn't even hold her hand.
Kyla didn't know why Wendy stuck around. It wasn't like she was desperate; there was a line of guys a mile long waiting for her. But she "saw something" in Stan, or so she claimed. Whatever it was, it was damn annoying. Kyla wished the raven-haired bimbo would piss off already so that she could have her best friend back. Maybe he wasn't physically affectionate with Wendy, but he spent a helluva lot of time with her.
Kenny was bobbing along to whatever song he was listening to on his iPod. Kyla snatched the music player from her boyfriend's hand to look at the title.
"Hey!" Kenny grabbed for it, but it was too late. Kyla had already seen that he was jamming along to Bootylicious.
"Are you serious!" she cried, laughing.
Kenny pounced on her, grabbing her into an arm hold. She twisted out of it and got up onto her tippy-toes, stretching her arm out above her head as far as it would go; as if that was out of his reach. Kenny, without getting onto his toes, reached up and plucked the iPod from her fingers, then smiled coyly down at her before tucking the iPod into his jacket pocket.
Stan was oblivious to the playful action, to Kyla's disappointment. Cartman, however, had something to say.
"You guys are sick," he whined from his spot next to Stan.
"Says you," Kyla shot back.
"Says you," the stocky boy retorted, his beady brown eyes narrowing.
"Well, we've gotta find some way to entertain ourselves when we're around you wet dishrags," Kenny pointed out haphazardly, snaking his arms around Kyla's waist and hugging her from behind.
Kyla sank back into his comfy orange parka, sighing happily. She and Kenny had been dating steadily for six months now. She couldn't remember ever having been just his friend that was a girl, even though they had been that way for eleven years. The four of them: inseparable, insuperable, and illegitimate misfits since kindergarten. They each had their typical stereotypes: Kyla, the tomboy Jewish girl; Kenny, the goofy badass; Stan, the popular jock; and Cartman, the flabby piece of shit that doesn't shut up.
Stan finally looked up from his goddamn phone. "P-D-A," he announced, shooting Kyla and Kenny a sneer.
"N-D-A-W," Kyla retorted.
"What?"
"No display of affection whatsoever," Kyla said smugly.
Stan turned beat red and looked back to his phone.
Stan was the victim of a year's worth of teasing about his lack of physical social skills. Kenny had tried having a bro-chat about it, but Stan had thrown a fit and ignored him for two weeks. Since then Kenny and Kyla had given up trying to help him.
Oh, well. Stan and Wendy's relationship seemed stable enough as it was.
Kenny's lips pressed against Kyla's temple before he released her. She and Kenny weren't that couple that was always making out or hanging all over each-other. They loved each-other, but they weren't gross. They were taking it slow. Really slow. They were comfortable that way.
The bus arrived then, and the four sixteen-year-olds climbed on, making their way down the aisle to the very back, where the rest of their friends were already seated. Craig and Butters were deep in conversation; Bebe and Clyde were snuggling; Wendy waited for Stan with glowing eyes. Cartman plopped down into a seat next to Tweek, who greeted him with a spastic jerk. Kyla and Kenny dropped into the seat across from Wendy and Stan's, who were chatting quietly together.
Kenny pulled out his iPod again and handed an ear bud to Kyla, who put it in her ear with a smile. Kenny chose a mellow song ("Spilt Milk" by Kristina Train) and they listened to it in comfortable silence, oblivious to the noisy kids around them. Half way to the school Kenny linked his fingers with Kyla's, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. She smiled up at him. It was the little things that made him so precious to her.
The bus screeched to a stop outside South Park High School. The kids paraded out of the bus in single file, spewing out onto the grounds as one big pile of testosterone.
Ah, Monday morning. Kyla took a sip of her coffee that she had preserved in her travel mug, smiling as the caffeine pricked her senses.
She made her way to her locker with Cartman (the classes were arranged alphabetically and he and Kyla were in the same homeroom), parting from Stan and Kenny a little reluctantly. She hated leaving them for the crappy company of Eric Cartman, although she and the chunky boy had been getting along better lately.
Cartman had been involved in sports for a few years now; he was actually on the same football team as Stan. His fat was slowly transforming into muscle, but he was short, so this made him incredibly stocky. He cleared Kyla's height by just an inch and a half, and she was on the short side at five four.
The two of them got their textbooks and headed off to their classes: Kyla to biology, Cartman to History.
The biology classroom was large and smelled of sterile metal. She took her seat next to Stan, who was still texting. She looked at the phone with disdain.
"Are you still texting?"
He snapped his head up as if he had just noticed that she was there. "Oh—yeah."
"Who are you texting?"
"Wendy."
"But you just saw her on the bus."
"We're having a conversation via text. That okay?" The sarcasm was strong, but it barely fazed Kyla.
She leaned back on her stool and put her feet up on the bar under the table. "Did you do the homework?" she asked casually, trying to strike a decent conversation with her supposedly best friend.
"Yep," he replied.
Kyla scowled. Damn Stan and his monosyllables. It was getting really old. Before she could tell him off, however, Mrs. Trout entered the room and barked at the students to get out their homework assignment. They obeyed robotically, a flurry of noise as pages were turned and bags were zipped and unzipped. Kyla saw Stan finish his message before slipping the phone into his pocket. A sly thought crossed her mind and she began to wonder how much he would miss his phone should it go missing...
The class passed and a sluggish speed. Kyla checked the clock once every two minutes, discouraged when she realized every time that it had only been two minutes since the last time she had checked. She twirled a red curl around her index finger absently as she jotted down the notes that Mrs. Trout was scribbling on the chalkboard. She shot cursory glances at Stan every now and then, but the raven-haired boy was either too engrossed in the lecture or off in his own little world. Deciding it was probably the latter since the lecture was so boring she could have cried, Kyla snuck a peek at Stan's notebook. He was drawing hearts all over the margins of a blank page, his face sporting a thoughtful expression.
Kyla was surprised. She knew that Stan really liked Wendy, but this was ridiculous. He was acting like a little girl in love with some cheap hotshot Hollywood actor, with his silly doodles and dreamy expression. Something weird was going on.
Kyla seized her pencil and began drawing little hearts in the margin of her notebook, too. When she had drawn about ten of them surrounding Kenny's name, she flung her pencil to the ground behind Stan's stool, snapping him from his reverie.
"Damn it," Kyla muttered, reaching around and behind Stan for the pencil. When she emerged she smugly saw Stan staring at her notebook. He looked back at his, and then to hers again, his pencil flying across his page. "What are you doing...?" Kyla asked as she pulled herself back onto her stool.
"Copying your notes," Stan whispered back. "I missed all that." He looked up. Mrs. Trout was handing out an assignment, hobbling up and down the rows. Stan leaned over to whisper into Kyla's ear. "Nice doodles."
Kyla shuddered. His warm breath was contrast to the draughty room she was in. She smiled at him. "Thanks. Yours are nice, too."
He turned bright pink and looked away, awaiting the deliverance of the handout with false curiosity.
Kyla put her finger to one of his hearts, the one that had been carefully shaded in and rounded out. "Mind explaining all this to me?"
"They're doodles," Stan replied sarcastically. "You know; little drawings that make no sense. Teenagers often resort to doodling in class to escape unbearable boredom."
"Guys usually draw...I dunno, guy stuff. What's with the hearts, dude?"
"I have a girlfriend."
Kyla rolled her eyes. "Really? I didn't notice."
"Shut up," Stan snapped, glaring down at his page. He snatched up his pencil and began rubbing out the hearts with the eraser.
Kyla's eyes went wide. "Hey, what are you doing?"
"Erasing them."
"Why?"
"Apparently, guys aren't supposed to show that they're in love by doodling in the margins."
"No," Kyla sneered, "they're not. They're supposed to show they're in love by groping their girlfriends or at least get a boner every time she walks by."
"Fuck off," Stan snapped.
Mrs. Trout arrived at their desk just in time to hear Stan's last remark, and after a pointed look and a "Watch your language, young man" gave them each a work sheet and moved on.
"I really wish you would leave me alone about how I treat my girlfriend," Stan said. "I don't tell you how to run your relationship; but out of mine."
And he didn't say a word to her for the rest of the class.
After class Stan took off down the hallway without a parting word. Kyla, a little huffy, made her way back to her locker. She had English Lit next, but she decided to skip it. Kenny had a spare, and she felt like venting. Kenny was the best listener in the world. So patient and gifted when it came to giving advice.
She met him at his locker and they sat in the hallway together. Kenny listened patiently as she described what had happened in bio and how weird Stan had been acting lately.
"It's like he doesn't have a sense of humour anymore," she said. "As if Wendy has just sucked all the laughter out of him. Haven't you noticed that?"
Kenny shook his head. "Can't say that I have."
She sighed and placed her head in her hands, moaning in frustration. Kenny slung an arm around her shoulders and hugged her to him, pulling her into his chest. She rested there comfortably, breathing in his scent and rejuvenating her temper.
"Aw, Kenny," she sighed, nuzzling his collarbone. "Where would I be without you?"
Kenny chuckled heartily and kissed the top of her head. "With Stan," he replied into her mass of red hair.
Reviews are humbly welcomed.
