Kyle POV
I stared at myself in the mirror, trying to make out the picture. My sleek red hair had been cut short, and now fell right above my eyes. My hands reached over my head as I pulled of my green shirt, which fell to my feet. I wasn't the most athletic person in seventh grade, but pretty in shape. I poked my arm, and then held it up to the mirror. A small bump appeared, which I gladly accepted in being muscle. The only reason I had joined the football team was because Stan had told me I should. He had went to the office, and he had handed me a slip. I said yes, of course, but had no actual idea of how to play. Eventually you learn , after being tackled about a million or so times because you let the ball pass by in fear of it hitting you. Another reason I did it was because, Cartman was the Water Boy. His attempt at getting a spot on the team had been denied, but he was offered the job of handing out towels and getting everyone water. Cartman laughed at first, until coach said it would make girls crazy for him. So, he gave it a try. Seeing his face everyday like that, like he thinks he's everything, is precious. I turned the faucet on, and let it run through my fingers before splashing some on my face. It barley woke me up, so I went downstairs for a cup of coffee. My mom didn't approve of this, so I simply didn't tell her. I reached up into the cupboard and grabbed a dark blue mug, and poured the last of the coffee into it. Quietly opening the pantry, I pulled out the sugar and dumped almost the whole bag into the cup. Pulling it up to my nose, I realized that the coffee smelt burnt, but I chugged it anyway. My sipping was interrupted by a knock on the door. I turned the knob and was surprised at who was standing there. "Stan?" He smiled.
"Hey dude, can I wait here for awhile? My parents left early." I smiled and with a nod held the door open. "Am I that early?" He asked, plopping himself down on the couch. I looked over my shoulder at the clock.
"Not really. We've got about twenty minutes before the bus comes." He stared at me with a slight smile. I sat down next to him, and pulled out the X-box controllers. Stan swiped one out of my hand before I even asked him to play. We played for awhile until he set his controller down. He put his hands over his face. I looked at him puzzled. "Are you okay?" He sighed.
"Can I tell you something?" He said, shakily. I nodded and paused the game. Stan hesitated before looking up at me. "I…I broke up with Wendy." Trying to hide my happiness, I put a hand over my mouth covering my smile. Sure, Wendy was a nice girl. But I had constantly wondered why he stayed with her so long. And now that she was somewhat out of his life, I was one step closer to having what Wendy always had with Stan.
"Why? You guys seemed so happy together." I said causally.
"Because," He said looking away. "Because I love someone else." I went pale. My heart raced, and I began to panic. He quickly wiped away the tears streaming down his cheek, and stood up. "Is it time to go?"
"Yeah." I reached for my coat, and headed to the door. Who could Stan like? I mean, I knew I wanted it to be me, but that was highly unprobable. I had been meaning to tell him my feelings, but there was no point in telling him how I felt if I knew he didnt like me back. When I looked up, I realized Stan wasn't behind me. I turned around to see his lips pressed against his green whiskey bottle that he usually kept under his floorboards. He saw that I was watching, and slowly slipped it away into his backpack. He ran up next to me. "Feeling better?" I asked sarcastically, nudging him on the shoulder. He smiled.
"Much better." We laughed. Only I knew about Stan's so called treatment. He had been given whiskey by the depression clinic he used to go to, and it had apparently kept him happy. Although this was the first time I saw him drinking it outside of his room, I just ignored it. He kept so many things under his floorboards, I almost lost count of them all.
We walked silently through the fallen snow, leaving behind shoe imprints. The small yellow sign in the distance signaled we were close to the bus stop, where Kenny already sat against a stump reading a playboy. When we got close, he looked up.
"Hey…" Kenny said smiling. He waited for one of us to reply, but when no one said anything he went back to his Playboy. Typical.
About five minutes later, the bus screeched to a hault in front of us. The two doors quickly swung open, and we all marched onto the bus. Stan had to practically drag Kenny on, who refused to let go of his magazine. He stopped reading for a short second, only to race to the very back of the bus and slump against the window. Stan wrinkled his nose.
"Does he really have to do that on the bus? I mean, seriously." He rolled his eyes as he took my sleeve and led me to our usual seat. Just as the bus began to roll forward, there was a bang against the door's glass. Once again, the bus stopped to let on the fattest piece of shit in the world- Cartman. He flipped off the bus driver, and made his way back to me and Stan. Cartman cleared his throat.
"No way, fatass. Find your own seat." He glared at me, and sat down directly across from us.
"Well good morning to you too, Kahl." He tilted his head. "I see you still have sand in your vagina. Maybe you should get it removed sometime-" I bolted up.
"God dammit Cartman I don't have sand in my-" Stan pulled me back down in my seat.
"Dude, just give it up." He smiled. His jet black hair fell perfectly over his face, and was still topped with his blue hat with red trim he had always worn. Nobody really stopped wearing what they always had, exempt Cartman, who had stopped wearing his hat. "Your better than that." I snapped back to reality only to be staring into Stan's bright blue eyes. I felt myself blush, realizing how close we were. I spun around, and sat quietly listening to Cartman chomp on his cheesy poofs.
I couldn't concentrate in school that day. Maybe it was because of the abnormally loud ticking coming from the clock, or maybe it was because I couldn't get Stan off my mind. He was just so...perfect. I had never felt the same way I feel about him about anybody else. I mean, sure there have been occasional crushes here and there, but in the back of my mind was Stan. The feelings I had for that person soon dissapeared, and were replaced with more feelings for Stan. I could only imagine what it felt like to press my lips against his-
"Brovlowski! Why dont you come and answer this problem. Maybe it'll wake you up some." I looked up at Mrs. Bell, and watched everybody's focus shift on me.
"Uh, yeah, ok." I seriously had no idea what we were doing. Something about math. I slowly un screwed the lid from the pen, and then let it roll out of my palm. "Oops-"
"Brovlowski, just sit down and pay attention." She raised her eyebrows and pointed to my chair. I nodded and took out the notes that I was supposed to be taking.
"Tweak, how about you do the problem?" He stared at her wide-eyed.
"Me- GAH! Too much pressure!" Tweek nervously walked to the board and started jotting down shakey numbers from his spiral. I flipped through the pages of my notebook until i spotted something not math related. I looked around to make sure nobody was paying attention to me. The only person that came close to giving any interest to me was Bebe, who I just ignored. My eyes travled back down to the paper. In the middle was a heart, and it surrounded the name Stan. I fixed some of the doves up a bit and added a few more hearts before the final bell rung.
"Dont forget to study for the test over Christmas break class! It's worth almost half of this semesters grade." Her voice faded as I walked to my locker. I spun the dial as I hummed Dreidle to myself. The song had stuck with me. As much as I just loved getting all sorts of driedles for eight days, I wished I could look forward to setting up a Christmas tree and opening presents like a normal thirteen-year-old. I grabbed my backpack and turned around to see Wendy.
"Kyle, can we talk?" She had a worried tone to her voice.
"I guess. What about?" I crossed my arms, hoping the conversation wouldnt last too long.
"It's about Stan-" Great.
"What about him?" I knew where this was going, but just went along with her act. Their on-off relationship had managed to last five years, and I wasnt letting her hurt him- again.
"Can you tell him to give me a call? To talk about things?" She looked at me with her big brown eyes, and bit her lip. I shrugged.
"Sure." I walked out the door, and caught up with Stan and Kenny. Wendy stood by the huge windows holding her books, waiting for me to mention her, but I didnt.