Chapter I

Really, really bad news

I try to keep my eyes on the front of the room as people sob all around me and suddenly feel too hot in my suit jacket. Only three days ago I had opened my door to see Kyle standing on the front porch, eyes glazed over, face white. A million things rushed through my head regarding what he could look so upset about, but nothing – and I mean nothing – even came close to the news he had delivered.

A man dressed in white and gold robes slowly makes his way up the aisle beside me and settles at a podium in the front. Obviously the priest. He raises a hand and a thick silence comes over the crowd, though the occasional soft weep can be heard.

"We are here today to not simply mourn the great loss we have incurred, but also to remember – to celebrate – the life… of Eric Cartman."

The sound of his voice fades into a dull murmur as my whole body is overcome with a mix of emotions I would never be able to describe. All those years… why didn't he ever tell anyone? Memories were flooding my head, like every moment we had spent together was a soundless movie in the back of my mind. I had been to funerals before, people I had known and loved, but this was so different. It felt wrong, like it shouldn't be allowed to happen. Immediately that tingling feeling in my nose started – the kind you get right before you're about to cry. I force myself to start listening to the priest to take my mind off it. I'm not going to cry. I'm not going to cry.

"…taken away from us at the age of twenty years, he had not the opportunity to begin the rich life that may have been intended for him. Ah, but God has a plan for us all, and we must remember that perhaps, it was God who needed Eric more than us." A loud wail from the pew in front of me echoes through the entire hall and the priest even pauses to give a sympathetic nod to Mrs. Cartman, who is trying to stifle more tears with a handkerchief. My mom is sitting beside her, rubbing her back, while Kyle's mom is on her other side, whispering something inaudible that seems to only be making it worse. Sheila wasn't ever very good at making people feel better.

I tune out the obituary again and choose to study Kyle, who is sitting to my right. Even though his complexion was naturally fair, all color seems to have drained from his face and stayed that way ever since he heard that Cartman died. He seems to be eating less too… I notice that his cheeks are looking thinner than usual, bringing his face down to a point. When I place my hand on his to get his attention, to ask if he's okay, I realize he's shaking violently.

"Dude… what's going on?" I tilt my head close to his ear so I won't disrupt the rest of the room. When he turns to look at me, my breath catches in my throat. His normally bright, lucid emerald eyes seem dull and unresponsive.

"This… this can't be happening…" He whispers, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. "It can't… it just can't…"

"I know what you mean."

"No, you don't. This has happened a million times before, only this time it's real. We hate Cartman so much, or so we say, until something happens and we realize that we shouldn't be so mean to each other. Except that every time until now, our change of heart is usually brought around by some trick Cartman was playing on us. Now it's not. Now it's real, he's gone, and we can't apologize. We can't say 'oh, we shouldn't have said those things' because there isn't anyone to say it to."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. "You're not… blaming yourself, are you?"

"Well…"

"Kyle, Cartman died because of a heart condition that nobody knew about except him and his mom. From what I hear the doctors didn't think it could turn out to be fatal. They didn't know it might end up causing heart failure."

"But I should have… I don't know… tried harder to be nice, or something. I don't want Cartman's… well; I don't want anyone's, last memory of me to be hateful."

"I think that was going to happen with Cartman anyway," I try to keep my tone playful to make light of my words. "After all, I don't think he was ever going to get over the fact that you were a ginger Jew." He gives me a cold stare and I shut my mouth, at that moment realizing my hand is still clamped around his. I pull away and close my eyes, letting a quiet sigh escape my lips.

I guess I'm not very good at making people feel better either.

Author's note: Sorry the first chapter is so short! Chapters will vary in length but they will usually be longer than this. Chapter 2 is almost done so expect updates soon!