Disclaimer: I do not own the wonderful cartoon that is Southpark (or any of it's characters for that matter).
Told in Kyle Broflovski's point of view. And this is ultimately, a Style fic.
Please read and review!
Title: Stolen Friday
Chapter 1: New Girlfriend
Today was the day.
I was so utterly excited. Hell, for the most part of the day, I had been zoning in and out during lectures and totally skipping out on taking notes.
It was going to be a perfect Friday night.
After school was over and done with, me and Stan were going to go see the newly released movie, Terrance and Philip: Asses Gone Rampant. Then after that, we were going to head down to the arcade and compete against each other on the new DDR station that they had recently set up. The old one's arrows were totally broken.
I placed the palm of my hand to my chin, my body leaning over the desk that I was sitting in. I continued to open and close my eyes, my mind tuning in and out through the current French lesson. For some reason, French class seemed amazingly boring today, as usual. I didn't detest French class, but I suppose I was just so anxious for the day to end so that me and Stan could start our Friday crash night.
I looked over at said boy. He was laughing at something and he was turned the other way, his face alit with merriment. I frowned at his laughter. Sometimes I would get that jealous feeling. It made me feel as if I were simply cast away for another, like Stan was doing right now. He was laughing with someone other than me.
I know, he had every right to laugh with whomever he wished to laugh with, but I guess it's just the fact that he and I are very, very close friends. And when I say very, I mean very. For as long as I can remember, we were always by each other's side. When Wendy broke up with him that fateful day back in elementary school, I was there for him. When the girls' List came out and I had found out that I was the ugliest kid in class, Stan was there for me. Heck, he even went directly to Wendy and sorted the problem out, albeit in an over dramatic way on the girls' part.
I turned in my seat and stared at Stan's back. The teacher up front was momentarily checking grades on her computer, while the rest of the class was left to chat and talk amongst themselves.
I watched Stan laugh once again, his grin spreading from ear to ear. I furrowed my brow, lifting myself higher so that I could see who he was laughing with.
"Damn," I whispered to myself.
Wendy Testaburger was laughing uncontrollably, her pretty face flushed and red. She quickly turned to her desk and scribbled something down on a sheet of paper, her purple lead pencil moving furiously. She dropped the pencil and shoved the piece of paper into Stan's awaiting hands.
This time I was really interested. What had she written to him? Why would Stan even read it anyway?
I watched Stan as he held out the tiny slip of paper before him and began reading it, a big smile caressing his lips in content. He nodded quickly and gave her a thumbs up, turning back in his seat when he heard the French teacher clear her voice in hopes of the getting the class to settle down.
I resumed to the front, my head tilted downwards as I pondered Wendy's and Stan's motives. What had she written to him? What were they planning?
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As the French teacher was still talking, I was starting to pack up my belongings. There was only two minutes left until the bell rang and I sure as hell wasn't going to wait until the last minute to start packing my things.
The teacher sighed as the class erupted in a series of shuffling bags and closing binders, soft chatter permeating throughout the tiny classroom like a spray of toxic gas. The teacher gave up on her explanation to this weekend's homework assignment and retired to her desk with a weary sigh.
I stared up at the clock anxiously-- a minute left to go. With a happy smile on my face, I turned towards Stan's direction.
My eyes shot wide open and I nearly fell out of my seat, but I managed to compose myself in order to not attract attention.
I slanted my eyes in a watery glare, my fingers clutching against the palm of my hand.
Stan and Wendy were facing each other, holding hands in such an intimate way that it nearly made me want to storm out of the classroom in disgust. Stan had a merry smile on his face, his cheeks tinged with the slightest shade of pink-- Wendy looked exactly the same.
What in the world did they have to be happy about?!
All too suddenly, the bell rang. I stood up from my desk and tried to wipe the shock that was so blatantly obvious on my face in hopes that Stan wouldn't get too suspicious as to my bewilderment. I knew all too well that he would expect me to be happy for him for even getting close to Wendy, let alone hold her hand.
I walked over to the two, their hands still entwined together.
"Stan," I called. He looked up at the sound of his name, his eyes landing on me. He smiled and dragged Wendy along. I tried not to grimace.
We then walked out of the classroom, our bodies pressed together as a horde of students simultaneously tried to get out of the school building to return to their homes and begin their weekend affairs. We managed to make it out of the building alive, despite the constant weaving and tight maneuvering we had to do to get out.
"What's up Kyle?" Stan asked, the smile on his face never wavering. I stared at him in awe, my brow furrowed in confusion. What did he mean "what's up?", he knew very well what was up.
"Aren't we going to watch the movie?" I questioned. I looked down at my watch. "We have thirty minutes to get there. If we leave now, we could probably make it just in time to get some food and watch the previews."
I watched as Stan's smile disappeared, his hand untangling from Wendy's to rub at the nape of his neck. He stared at me guiltily, as if he had just been caught steeling something from some old woman's pantry-- cookies no doubt.
"About that…" he began, his voice hesitant. My eyes widened as realization set in. He had forgotten, didn't he? All this time (actually, this whole week), I had been waiting with impatience for this day to come, and he had forgotten. With school being as hectic as it was, what with all the hardcore homework assignments and class projects, me and Stan rarely got to hang out.
Today was supposed to be a bonding day, a fun day-- our day.
"Dude, sorry Kyle, I totally forgot," Stan apologized. His eyes glanced over to Wendy, who was waiting patiently in the background for god knows what. "But, I got even better news."
I frowned at him and crossed my arms over my chest.
"Like what?" I asked, malice seeping into my voice. What could possibly be better than spending time with your best friend on a perfectly fun Friday night?
"Wendy asked me out," he whispered. Oh, well I guess getting a brand new girlfriend (in Stan's terms) was more important that spending time with your best friend. However, I sure as hell didn't think so. So what if I sounded selfish, I reserved him first.
"So?"
Stan looked at me as if I had just stabbed him right in the heart. I egged him on, glaring at him in an indifferent manner.
"So?" he repeated. "So? Dude, this is a once in a life time chance for me! Did you even hear me right--Wendy asked me out!"
"I heard you perfectly well," I responded, looking at the sky. I wondered if God was out to get me.
A moment of silence passed. All that could be heard was the silent chatter of left over students and the faint rustling of tree leaves floating about the streets like individual tornadoes.
"So are we going or not?" I asked. I placed a hand to my hip and tilted my head in irritation. At this rate, we wouldn't be able to see the previews on time.
"Ummm…" Stan trailed on.
I stared at him, the impending response already obvious. He was going to ditch me.
I looked over at Wendy.
'For her,' I thought.
"Can we go to the movies some other time, I kinda' already have plans…with Wendy," he stared at me with embarrassment. He was clearly not comfortable in the situation he was in. Funny, usually he always had something charismatic to say.
"Sure, whatever," I responded. I adjusted my book bag and began to walk, brushing right past him. I flew down the concrete steps that lead to front of the school, eager to get as far away from Stan as possible.
"Sorry Kyle!" Stan yelled after me. I bit my lip and tightened my fists; I was livid. I didn't even want to look back in fear that I might catch him sneaking in a kiss with her.
As the school grew smaller and smaller, I grew even more angrier than I already was. How could he forget? We were supposed to have a fun-filled night and all that was thrown away because Stan had to go and get himself a girlfriend.
I suppose I shouldn't get too mad at Wendy because she hadn't done anything wrong, but still. Stan was going to be preoccupied with her now, so I doubt there was going to be another time to watch a movie with him.
'Or play DDR,' I added.
I trudged across the pavement, hesitant on maintaining my designated route. Should I go home? There was nothing to do over there, besides being nagged by my mother all freaking night long. There was nothing to return home to, absolutely nothing. Stan was off with Wendy right now, probably planning a fun-filled night without me, and here I was, dejected and utterly self-loathing.
Where had I gone wrong? How had I allowed them to get that close, close enough so that Wendy had built up the courage to ask him out after what she had done to him those many, many years ago.
"I should have watched them more carefully," I mumbled to myself.
"Asowiytoiregie094?"
I turned to the side and found an orange blob walking next to me. I waved at it and tucked my hands into the pockets of my jeans.
"Hi Kenny," I greeted, the enthusiasm in my voice as dull as the wilted point of an over-used pencil.
"Twoietryeo330974dsnvf9do3?" Kenny asked, his voice muffled. That big, orange hoodie of his was practically engulfing his face, making it impossible to determine what he was saying.
"Um."
"Qeiw03295t98jfdkjrs9wu03wu?" Kenny asked again. I quirked an eyebrow.
"Kenny, take down your hood. I can't understand you," I said. Kenny did as he was told and unzippered his sweater just enough so that he could get his hood down without it choking him. A mess of bright blond hair unraveled itself, landing in a messy array about his face. He smiled at me and winked.
"What's up?" he asked, stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his sweater. I smiled and shook my head, resuming my gaze ahead of me.
"Aw, nothing," I responded while readjusting the straps of my book bag. I turned to him in a comforting smile. "Just feel a little crappy is all."
"Crappy?" he asked, arching a blond eyebrow. His blue eyes twinkled with impending curiosity. "Why? Did something happen between you and Stan?"
I almost halted in my tracks, almost.
I scoffed at him, turning the other way. I then lifted my head and looked up at the sky, my eyes squinting from the sun's bright glare.
"Why do you automatically assume that this has something to do with Stan?" I asked, trying to tame my irritation.
"Why are you being so defensive?" Kenny fired back. I turned to him and gave him a weak glare. That was a good come back.
"Why would you want to know anyway, it doesn't concern you," I reasoned, trying my best not to sound too harsh. Kenny bit his lip and gave me a wry stare, his eyes set in determination.
"I'm just interested," he explained, blowing a strand of messy, blond hair away from his face. "Plus, if it deals with Stan, then something big must be up."
He turned to me and erased his smile.
"I'm sure of it," he concluded with a definitive tone.
I rolled my eyes and clicked my tongue. Was it so obvious?
"Yes."
I turned to Kenny, my eyes wide. Had he just read my mind?
"Whenever you're really pissed, the reason behind it always somehow involves Stan, no matter how distantly related. He's always involved," Kenny explained, his eyes roaming around the snow covered streets.
'Oh, so it was that obvious,' I thought to myself.
"So…" he continued. "…what then?"
"Stan got a girlfriend today," I said in an authoritative voice, as if I were merely reading a set of information from off a cue card.
I watched as Kenny's eyes widened. He turned to me, his mouth open, expecting me to do something to prove that I was serious. I did nothing of course; I merely stared at his stunned expression.
"What?" he asked in bewilderment. "Dude, Kyle…really? How can that not be important? I mean, that's like head-liner news. Fucking woah."
I eyed him wearily, letting out an irritated hum. Kenny blushed and shut his mouth, realizing that he had blatantly rubbed everything in my face.
Of course I knew it was important. It was the most important piece of information that I held dear to me, no matter how dissatisfied I was with it. And believe me, I was really, really dissatisfied.
"Who's the girl?"
I turned away from him, not wanting him to see the dejectedness plastered about my face.
"Wendy," I whispered.
I heard Kenny choke on his spit.
"Fucking serious?" he asked, rather loudly. "The same Wendy who turned Stan Gothimo that one time?"
"Gothimo?" I asked. What in the world did that mean?
"Yeah, you know, like Goth plus Emo," he explained. "Gothimo. You pronounce it like Awesome-o."
I nodded in reply.
"Wow," he mumbled. "That must hurt then." He looked at me, expecting me to nod in agreement. Of course, I did nothing. What did he mean by that anyway? It looked as if Kenny knew too much about where I stood concerning Stan.
"Why would it hurt?" I asked, curious as to how much he knew. Hopefully, he only saw the relationship between Stan and I as purely platonic, anything more than that, then Kenny would be patrolling in uncharted ground. Ground that I would undoubtedly shoot anyone who tried to cross it. Did it sound like denial? Yes, it was-- I could admit to that. Did I want to admit to that denial, publicly? No, not at all. Sometimes, denial could walk with you hand in hand down a deserted path and sometimes it could lead you to a cliff. It just depended whether or not you wanted to jump off that cliff.
I certainly wouldn't.
"Well, you and Stan are like best, best friends," Kenny started softly.
"Super Best Friends," I corrected him. Kenny coughed.
"Yeah, super best friends," he repeated. "Aren't you angry or something? I mean, he's going out with Wendy now. I know you don't like her dude."
"I don't like her just to not like her, it's because…she irritates me--"
"--when she's near Stand yeah?" Kenny finished. He studied me, trying to analyze my expression so he can put two and two together. I knew he was onto something, however, I didn't want him to get that far.
"That's stupid, he can be with anyone he chooses to be with," I said. "It's not like I own him or anything like that."
"But you can't stand the thought that she'll get to spend more time with him than you," Kenny stated, as if he were some kind of therapist who suddenly found the answer to all my problems. "You want him to yourself don't you?"
I turned to Kenny, anger starting to boil through my veins.
"You're just putting words into my mouth!" I exclaimed. "You think too much into things Kenny, it kind of ticks me off."
Kenny put his hands up in defeat and let a shaggy smile grace his lips.
"Sorry, sorry," he said quickly. "It's just that I think you might see Stan as a little bit more of a friend, that's all."
"Kenny, I'm not a fag," I hissed.
"Sure you aren't, I'm just saying," he responded. "Anyways, I gotta' go now. I have a date with some lovely cats."
"Kenny, will you stop cheesing please, you're going to end up dying again."
"No, I meant "cats" as in "ladies", you know I stopped cheesing a while ago."
And with that, Kenny bounded down some random street and disappeared off into the distance. I heaved a loud sigh and licked my lips.
This wasn't good.
Kenny was onto something and he was already starting to pick up on a few things that I definitely didn't want him to understand. Hell, I didn't even understand myself. Where did I stand with Stan?
So consumed with my thoughts, I didn't even notice when a rather huge blob came barreling down my direction, and before I knew it, I was nearly tackled to the floor.
"Kahl!"
"Cartman! Get your fat-ass off me!" I shouted. Cartman gripped my wrist in his meaty hands and dragged me off towards the opposite direction. He lead me into a nearby alleyway and halted behind a large dumpster.
"Is it true?!" he shrieked, his voice reverberating off the walls. I grimaced and picked at my ears. God, he can be so loud sometimes.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" I shouted at him. Carman glared at me and punched me in the arm.
"Is it true or not?" he asked, with impatience lacing his voice like a design pattern. "Kahl, if you don't tell me right now, so help me God, I'm gonna' fucking--."
"I don't even know what the hell you're talking about?!"
Cartman stepped back, clearing his throat in the process.
"Stan and Wendy," he said slowly. "Are they together?"
My eyes widened in pain. I looked about me, my nose twitching at the foul smell emitting from the dumpster.
"I saw them holding hands after school," Carman continued, smashing his words together. What in the hell did he have to be so nervous about?
"Yes," I said quietly, "it's true. Why the hell do you want to know?"
"Kahl," Cartman said, grabbing the collar of my jacket. "Kahl, we need to do something. Stan and Wendy cannot be together."
"Why shouldn't they be, they have every right," I said slowly, quirking an eyebrow.
"Fuck, Kahl," he yelled. "They just can't, alright. We need to break them up."
"We?" I questioned, my voice laced in suspicion. "Why the fuck would I team up with you. Why would I even do that?"
"'Cause Kahl, he's your best friend right?"
I didn't respond.
"She's gonna' steal him away from you right?" he continued. "I noticed that you guys haven't been hanging out in a while now. If they continue to go out, say goodbah to your best friend Kahl. Say goodbah for sure."
I slapped his hands away, causing him to release his grip on my jacket. I glared at him and dusted myself off.
"You're fucking nuts Cartman," I said to him, walking away from where he stood, glaring at me with an evil look in his eye.
"Kahl, where're you going?" Cartman asked, his voice growing louder. I continued to walk away from him, my fingers clutched around the strap of my book bag. "Kahl, you come back heyah! Kahl! Respect mah authoritah!"
I think that this is going to be a 2-chapter fic, so expect the next chapter to be the last. If you have any questions, please ask.
Please Review too!