Chapter One: Angelic Death
My name is Kyle Broflovski. I'm a junior attending South Park High, and am currently wearing three-inch heels and a short black poofy dress with ribbons in my hair.
A lot has happened in my life. I've almost been killed multiple times, and have two best friends- Stan and Kenny. They're always there for me, so I haven't gotten killed. Most of my near death experiences happen because of the asshole now sitting at my table.
Why the hell… did this have to happen? I stare down at my worst enemy seated at the table. A wide smile was spread across Cartman's face as he eyed me like I was a plump mouse- and Cartman was the cat.
Let me back up a bit.
It started earlier this year, back in January. It started with a stupid teapot my mom had- it was white with little pink flowers etched on it. It sat on our dining room table. One day, I came home from school and saw it.
I threw it across the room and it hit the wall, smashing into a million little pieces. I was alone in the house, so no one heard it, but at that moment during it's impact, something inside of me snapped.
I wanted my freedom. Sophomore through junior year- my mom had been pushing me to the point where I couldn't take it anymore. I studied so much that I thought my eyes were going to pop out. She wouldn't let me see my friends. I know she was doing it for my benefit, but to the extent that she took it, I literally had no life outside of my books. I became so obsessed with getting into a good college that I literally had nightmares where I didn't get into Harvard or Princeton or Yale, and I would wake up sweating.
My whole life became about my future. The guys would ask me to go play football a few times, but I always turned them down. Luckily, my mom let me see Stan sometimes, as long as it was a 'study session'. We're still best friends, but I get the feeling he got bored with me. During that time I was so oblivious to him that I failed to notice he began to go out with Wendy again.
In my family, I'm more of my mom's kid. Ike is my dad's. Ike liked more sports, I liked more books. It just came out that way, so of course, being the older and more mature child anyway, they expected me to be the one to excel and get the best grades and into the best school. All I did was study as soon as I got home from school.
The day I threw the teapot, I got my SAT scores back. A 2310. 90 points below perfect.
And then, I snapped. Tea dripped unceremoniously down the wallpaper. Of course, by the time Mom returned home, I had cleaned it up, but the mere act of doing something so rude and selfish really, well, liberated me. I felt free for the first time in forever.
At that moment, I decided that once I was out of high school, I would live on my own. I didn't want to have to depend on my family for financial reasons or personal. I wanted to live my own life, and not just be a siphon for my mom's dashed hopes and dreams.
Don't get me wrong- I love my family. But, they are genuinely unhealthy for my sanity and wellbeing. The first thing I had to do to be able to get my plan working, was to save up money. Lots of it.
Therefore, I needed a job. Badly. No one was really hiring. Obviously, I couldn't let my family, who I was saving up to escape from, find out about my job, so I couldn't very well have asked them for help.
Then one day, I overheard some of the guys talking about this restaurant.
"Dudes, you have to check this place out!" Clyde said triumphantly in homeroom, pulling a flyer out of his backpack. At the time, I was barely interested in anything those idiots had to say, I was too preoccupied with my own stuff. But, I just so happened to be listening.
Stan was sitting with Wendy on his lap, looking as happy as a puppy dog with a treat. She was smiling at him and being all perfect, as usual. Kenny and Butters were there too, talking to Token about something. The fat-ass was sitting in front of me, his head down. He was acting annoyed about something so I just didn't bother even insulting him that morning.
Anyway, Clyde came in and was talking about this great restaurant called "Angel Morte."
"Doesn't that mean 'Angel Death'?" I piped in, looking up from my copy of Crime and Punishment.
"Yeah- and it really is what it says. Death by angels," Clyde smiled stupidly to himself and held the flyer out for everyone to see. "It's right near Stark's pond on the edge of town, just opened up too. The only people that work there are cute girls- they're hiring now too because it's new. They wear these short waitress dresses that are either white or black-
"Sounds like you've spent a lot of time there," Wendy added in, smiling at Clyde's embarrassment.
"You're just jealous you could never work there, Wendy, they're only looking for cute girls," he replied back smoothly.
My heart sank. Truly- I'd been looking for a job for a few months at that point. I was desperate. Even desperate enough to…
"Can I ask your name, young lady?" the manager of the restaurant looked me up and down and smiled. I couldn't have been more embarrassed if I wanted to be.
I was wearing a dress my mom had long since abandoned since she gained one hundred pounds after I was born. It was pink and frilly. I know it was completely dumb to assume that he wouldn't know I was a boy, but for years, Eric Cartman would remark how feminine and gay I looked, so I just prayed for once that he was right and I could really pass it off.
As another precaution, I wasn't wearing my hat, which I constantly wore at school. My hair had gotten long enough that my red curls drooped to my shoulders. I was slim enough that I had next to no body muscle, and my legs looked long and slender, almost exactly like a girl's legs. Genuinely, even I have to admit I really did look like a girl. A girl wearing very dirty tennis shoes with a pink frilly dress, but a girl nonetheless. Dressing up Butters as Marjorine years ago finally paid off.
"Kyl-" I began, then realizing how dumb it would be to use my real name, I quickly added in a higher pitched version of my voice, "lie. Kylie."
The manager nodded and looked me up and down once more, smiling to himself with the look of a creeper. I inwardly cringed but kept my composure.
"We do have a position open waiting tables, if you don't mind. The theme of this restaurant is a cute twist on the idea of 'angels of death'. The uniforms are either white or black with bows and lace, as you've seen, depending on if you're a normal angel or the angel of death for the day. As long as you're good at remembering who ordered what and are congenial and polite, you should be fine."
I beamed. "Thank you very much, sir! I'll do my best!" I said in the high-pitched voice.
The uniform, as I quickly discovered, was an elaborate short black dress, with a turtle neck at the top and no sleeves. Instead, I had long black arm warmers. A large bow was tied around my middle and hung in the back just over my poofy, short skirt, which had lace underneath it. The manager quickly noticed that my chest was, as he put it, 'less endowed' than the other girls, so I got the darker angel motif instead of the cleavage showing white dress with feathery angel wings. There were also long lacey ribbons tied on either side of my head and hung lower than my actual hair, which when out of my hat, hangs to my shoulders. It's also stupidly required that all the waitresses wear these obnoxious three-inch heels that I'm still getting used to wearing.
I have been working here for a week. Guys have tried to look up my skirt as I walk away, but they leave great tips. And besides- I'm not actually a girl. Not even my coworkers have found out yet- it was going pretty great. I've been saving up my money and soon, for college, I'll be self-sufficient. Things were going great.
But that was until this asshole decided to ruin it all for me.
"What do you want?!" I whisper at him in my normal voice, my anger and embarrassment seething. I clenched the plate I was holding in my hands tightly. There is no way I could run away without making a scene.
Today is one of the slow days in the restaurant, sadly; otherwise one of the other girls could have taken his table. I agreed to it before I noticed who the hell was sitting here. Fuck. Did he find out about my mom? Not even Stan knows that! Did he really come to ruin everything for me?!
He blinked and looked me up and down again. He wasn't as fat as he was when we were younger, but he was still larger than me. He hadn't worn his hat in years so his short brown hair was always showing now. His red coat is unbuttoned at the top.
Cartman smiles again, and says, "A hamburger with a large order of fries."
I blink- surprise would be an understatement of what I'm feeling.
I look at him, my jaw dropping open.
"Repeat that," I say, looking him in the face. One of the red curls unceremoniously falls in my face. Cartman's smile widens as he leans into me.
"A hamburger," he says slowly, staring deeply into my eyes, "and large fries." If I didn't know any better, it appears Cartman is flirting with me.
He doesn't know it's me.
He doesn't recognize me.
I'm safe?
"Uh-" I scramble to regain composure and tuck the curl behind my ear. "Right away sir." Bow for the customer. Right. I bow to Cartman through gritted teeth and make off toward the kitchen, my heels clacking the whole way.
My heart is beating in my ears. I quickly write down his order and pin it on the string above the kitchen. Glancing back toward the fat-ass, I notice he's still watching me with his narrowed brown eyes.
I gulp again. This is fucking unreal. Why is he here? Does he seriously not recognize me?
I mean- yeah the other girls working here think I'm a girl, and so does the manager, and so far, so do all the customers, but really, Cartman can't tell? He's been such an ass to me forever- I thought he of all people would be able to recognize the face he's been tormenting.
I squat behind the welcome table, out of his sight, and sit on the ground, the ribbons on my lacey skirt dragging on the floor. What should I do? I could get him kicked out if I say he's harassing me. The bouncers would be thrilled.
I can't do anything too drastic- I need this job. FML.
Standing up, I grab a bread bowl and walk toward his table. He was sitting next to one of the giant windows with the booth seats.
"Would you like some bread, sir?" I attempt to smile but it probably looks like I'm in pain. He glances up at me from a book he was reading- Crime and Punishment. He was almost at the end. He's doing his English homework?
"Sure," he smiles again at me. My smile vanishes as I look at him. Every other time I've seen this teen smile, usually I was in pain or completely pissed off. This is weird.
I feel my cheeks heat up as I place the bowl on his table. Why am I blushing? It's probably out of being completely creeped out by an actual… human-like Cartman.
I turn on my heel and walk back toward the backroom where the other waitresses hang out. Ever since Raisins was torn down a few years ago (something about promoting underage prostitution) most of the girls that worked there now work here. There's Lexis, Mercedes, Porsche and Ferrari. Despite being complete sluts they're actually pretty decent people.
Today though, since it is a little slow, only Ferrari is still here. Cartman and some old guy who always orders an omelet are the only ones still eating.
"Hey Ferrari," I start in my high-pitched voice again. She's changing out of her white dress into her normal clothes; I guess she's leaving soon too. She's down to her bra and panties. I look elsewhere in the room. It would be awkward to look at her- I am still a guy after all. "That kid in there… does he come here a lot?"
Ferrari turns to face me, and blinks, "You mean the one with the brown hair? Every once in a while, he's been coming for a few months."
Shit, he's loyal customer. I can't very well throw him out.
"Oh- okay…" I look down, disheartened. Ferrari smiles at me and pulls on her jeans.
"Why- you interested?" she asks, pulling on a red tank top.
"Interested…" I trail off, wondering what she means, until, "Oh NO! God no!" My face turns red as I think about it. "Cartman?! Never! Someone would have to be crazy to like him-" I'm blathering and all the while, Ferrari is getting the absolute wrong idea.
She laughs, "You don't have to be embarrassed, Kylie." She folds up her uniform and places it in her locker. Walking past me toward the door, she glances back at me. "It seems like Mr. Gastborovic is leaving- that leaves you two alone. I think only Thomas is in the kitchen tonight too," she pauses and waves at me, walking out the door, "Good luck!"
…I'm not gay. Especially for Cartman.
I hear Thomas ring the bell and I know Cartman's order is ready. Attempting to compose myself I take a deep breath and push open the door.
He's still sitting there reading his book with half a piece of bread in his hand.
Grabbing the plate full of steaming fries and hamburger, I walk carefully over to his table. There's no light outside. I glance up at the clock- it was 9:30. We'll be closing in half an hour…
"Here you go, sir," I say in my high-pitched voice again as I place the plate on his table.
He looked down at it and back up at me. "Thanks," he says softly, glancing at my nametag, "Kylie."
The surprise at his thanks doesn't quite hit me right away as I smile at him. "It's my duty, sir." Curse this restaurant and making all its employees add 'sir' and 'madam' at the end of every sentence.
"I have to ask though…" he says, looking me in the eyes again. Ice overtakes my insides as I grip my plate. "Is there some reason I don't have a drink?" his voice is dripping with acid and I feel his eyes shooting daggers at me in annoyance.
Yep. That's the Cartman I know.
"Oh- I'm sorry!" I say quickly. My fear takes over anytime I see him like that and I see white. "Um, water is okay, right? Right. Be right back, sir, I'm sorry!" I say in a hurry as I spin toward the kitchen. In one swift movement as I put my left foot down, I lose my balance and my chin meets with the tiled floor.
"Ow…" is all I say as I push myself off the floor. Today fucking sucks. I glance back at Cartman, getting the feeling he's about to laugh his ass off. Instead, he's pushing himself out of the table and walking up to me.
I'm still on the floor as he puts one of his hands out toward me, a smirk on his face. He was amused by my fall, but he was keeping it on the inside. I look between his hand and him as my brain slowly processes the fact he wants me to grab hold of it.
I push myself off the ground slightly and take hold of his hand, which is much larger than my own. He pulls me upward very quickly and I find my head in his chest and my body pressed against his.
He leans his face into mine, and smiles as I blush. He chuckles at my obvious embarrassment at the situation, "That's what you get for forgetting my drink."
I stutter and push him off of me, running into the kitchen and closing the door behind me.
I got Thomas to deliver the drink for me and lock up that night- I couldn't face Cartman again. I ran out through the back exit and changed outside, then went home.
That was last night. Now it's Thursday, and I'm at school, and I have no choice but to see him.
He's sitting at his desk in front of me as the rest of the class chatters away. Mr. Garrison is telling people to take their seats so we can begin our lesson.
So… he really didn't know it was me?
"Cartman."
He doesn't respond.
"Cartman," I tap on his shoulder as the class slowly quiets down. He glances over it and frowns.
"What the fuck do you want, Jew?"
I inwardly wince at his voice. He didn't sound like that when I was dressed as a girl…
He sighs before I answer. "Did you read the fucking book, Jew?"
I blink. "Crime and Punishment? Yeah."
"Did you do the homework then?"
I know where this is going. "Yes and I'm not letting you copy it."
"But Kahllll…" he draws out my name in his annoying way. "I was busy last night, I didn't even have time to read the stupid book, let alone do the homework."
But… I saw him reading it last night… he really has no idea it's me? And he was almost done with it when I saw him…
I sigh. "Fine. You just have to promise to be super nice to me for the rest of your life."
"Oh, like that's going to happen Jew-boy."
I smile at his stupid choice of words. "Fine then, go on without your homework."
His face twists into anger. "Fuck you, kike!"
"Eric Cartman- watch your language!" Mr. Garrison says from the front of the room. I smile. It was fun making him mad.
Although, I still wonder if he knew it was me. He sure didn't act like it… although it was Cartman after all.
I think… I'll just keep it a secret. Hopefully he just won't show up again and we can forget about it.