Disclaimer: Ahhh none of them belong to me. They belong to Trey Parker and Matt Stone, who, sadly, don't belong to me either. But if they did it would be SUPER FUN TIMES
ALL THE YOUNG DUDES
AUGUST
Can we climb this mountain
I don't know
Higher now than ever before
I know we can make it if we take it slow
Let's take it easy
Easy now watch it go
We're burning down the highway skyline
On the back of a hurricane that started turning
When you were young
When you were young
August 12
"AAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHH!"
"Dude, shut up!"
"I'll shut up when you stop trying to kill me!" Kyle shouted. He clutched the dashboard in sheer terror as Stan sped down the street, nearly missed the entrance to the parking lot, and managed to get inside only by making a sharp hundred and twenty degree turn. "Holy shit, dude!"
"Hey, I didn't have to give you a ride, you know," Stan shouted irritably over the sound of his car skidding backwards through the lot. He wrenched the wheel sideways, just barely missing a minivan.
"I'd be safer walking blindfolded into incoming traffic!" Kyle squeaked from the passenger's seat. He could swear he heard the rush of speeding death as Stan made another wide and impossibly angled turn into the second row of cars. "Just park!"
"Hang on," Stan shouted back, making another sharp turn, "I'm looking for a spot!" Kyle didn't say anything about the five empty stalls they had just passed. Instead he put his head in his hands and prayed that, when they inevitably crashed and died, it would be relatively painless.
Stan paid no attention to his friend cowering beside him, but continued to scan the parking lot. He was a man on a mission.
His car, a dark red gremlin, had been a present from his dad. Yesterday night he had been busy playing Halo in the last few hours of free time he had before the school year started, when his father had suddenly wrapped a blindfold around his head, effectively blinding him.
"Dad, what the hell are you doing? I'm playing Halo!" Stan complained.
"Stan, I have something important to show you," Randy marsh said, from what Stan decided must be somewhere near the door.
"Oh Jesus what now?" Stan muttered, blindly standing and stumbling toward his father's voice. "Dad, where are you?"
"Follow the sound of my voice Stan!" Randy had said, "And follow the sound... of freedom..." Stan could hear a faint jingling. He sighed, and walked tentatively towards the sound. From what he could tell, he was going through the open door, and outside into the driveway. "Where am I going?" He asked.
"Just keep walking!" Came his father's voice, accompanied by the jingling sound again. Stan kept walking until he walked right into what felt like their car.
"What the hell?" He had muttered, pulling off the blindfold. It wasn't the family car that he had walked into. It was however, a car. The ugliest car Stan had ever seen. "It's... a car," he said, trying to sound enthused. His dad tossed him the keys.
"And it's all yours!" Randy had put an arm around his son's shoulders. "Your first car, just in time for your last year of high school. I mean," he paused and chuckled, "You have to have something to drive girls around in, right?"
Well at the moment Stan had no girls whatsoever in the car. Kyle was screaming like a girl, but it wasn't quite the same thing. He spun and skidded into the last row of cars and spotted what he had been looking for:
A cute little yellow hybrid, brand new and freshly washed for the first day of school.
And there was an empty space next to it.
Stan swerved, sped up, and more or less careened into the parking space, getting a bit too close to the other car as he did so. He winced as the cars scraped against each other, and immediately put the car in reverse. He pulled out of the space, straightened the car out, and parked. Kyle looked up.
"Where am I?"
"Very funny, dude. We're parked." He grabbed his backpack and got out of the car. Kyle sat still for a while, just breathing in and out, clutching his bag and thanking the powers that be that he was still alive, and not dead in a ditch somewhere. Finally he got out of the car, just in time to see Stan practically have a heart attack.
"Aw-AWWW!" Kyle peered around his friend and saw what the exclamation was over; a scratch right along the side of Wendy Testaburger's brand-new car.
"You are so dead." Kyle observed, putting his backpack on. "She's going to kill you. Over and over again." Stan stopped staring at the scratch, went a horrible shade of white-gray, and turned and vomited in the bushes. Somewhere in the distance, a school bell rang. Stan stood up, wiping his mouth off.
"I have to move my car. If she sees it she'll know it was me!"
"You think? I mean, the license plate only reads 'STNMRSH'." Kyle said dryly. "Come on, we've got to go to class."
"No way, not until -" Kyle grabbed Stan's arm and bodily dragged his friend away from the cars.
"I'm not going to let you be tardy on your first day." He said firmly, "now come on; you have chemistry first and I have math."
"Screw chemistry." Stan said, but it was futile; Kyle had already led him across the parking lot and towards the school. Besides, Stan didn't really want to be tardy on his first day either.
Stan walked into his chemistry class - still noisily chewing the right breath mints he had stuffed into his mouth after the vomit incident - scant seconds before the late bell rang.
"Name?" Stan looked up at his chemistry teacher, a man in his late forties who was holding a clipboard. The man was wearing a polo shirt, dress pants and, oddly, a pair of Birkenstocks with socks. Stan did a slight double take at the odd shoes before looking back at the teacher.
"Stan Marsh." He watched as the teacher slid his finger down the row of names.
"Ah yes, you're sitting over in the back left corner, next to Wendy. She's the one in the pink beret."
... no ...
Wendy spotted him from across the room and waved him over. Under different circumstances - ones in which he had not just scratched her treasured car - he would be ecstatic at this. However, today he was forced to wonder what he had done that was so terrible that God felt the need to punish him like this. He took a deep breath and went over to the table.
"Hi Wendy," He said nervously, sitting down next to her at the two-person lab table and trying not to look guilty.
"Hi Stan!" She said brightly, moving her bag aside to make room for him. "How was your summer? Did you go anywhere fun?" Stan got a pencil out of his bag and began toying with it, purely to have something to do with his hands.
"Not really, I just stayed in town and hung out with my friends a lot. How was your summer?" Wendy shrugged, winding a strand of her long black hair around her finger as she did so.
"Kind of boring. I mean, I went to California with Bebe and her family for a few days, but that was about it." She smiled suddenly, "But I can tell this year is going to be fun. I'm so glad we're lab partners!" She touched his arm lightly as she said this, and Stan nodded, fighting down a new wave of nausea. She was happy to be sitting next to him. This was going amazingly well.
Or at least, it would be going well until Wendy found out that he'd scratched her car. Stan resisted the urge to vomit again, and was relieved when their teacher, Mr Simpson, began talking.
When Kyle walked into his first period advanced Calculus class, he was greeted by a wave of unspoken animosity. He was the last student to arrive, it seemed, and when he walked through the doorway, everyone turned to look at him, and immediately their curious glances turned to looks of indifference or disgust.
His first thought was that he had accidentally wandered into the underground city of the mole people. His classmates looked as though they hadn't seen the sun in years. Or, perhaps, ever. A few of them sported thick glasses, and Kyle counted seven pocket protectors.
This classroom was filled with nerds. Nerds who apparently did not take kindly to normal kids invading their sacred space.
He sat down in the back of the classroom and tried to look as unobtrusive as possible while wondering how on earth he had gotten stuck in a class with every stereotypical geek in school. This was totally going to suck balls.
Eric Cartman was, surprisingly, one of the first people to arrive in government class that morning. He had gotten a lot taller through the years; he had at least an inch on Kenny and Stan and was the same height as Kyle. This was emphasized by the fact that he wasn't obese like he had been in his childhood. To the surprise of everyone, once he had hit puberty he shot up in height and lost his extra body fat. He had a stocky build, however, and it was evident to all that, as he had been telling them for years, he was actually just big boned.
One thing about him, however, would never change: he was still a manipulative bastard.
He walked in and noted that the desks were, irritatingly, arranged into pairs. He started to walk to the back of the class, but was stopped by the teacher; a woman who looked to be in her late twenties holding a seating chart.
"Good Morning!" She said brightly, "I'm Miss Murray. What's your name?"
"Eric Cartman." He told her. There was no point in mouthing off first thing. There would be plenty of time for that later.
"All right, well your seat is right up there," She said, pointing to a desk in the very front of the classroom. Cartman frowned; he hated the front of classes. Everyone knew it was easier to brainwash students who sat in the very front.
"Aw god dammit." He muttered to himself.
"What was that?" his teacher asked pleasantly. He considered repeating himself, louder. Perhaps at a soft yell. Instead he readjusted his backpack on his shoulder and headed towards the front.
"Nothing, nothing." He said, sitting down. Students filed into the classroom at a steady pace and were given their seating assignments. To Eric's disgust, the quarterback of the football team joined him. He was pale, blond, and even bigger than Cartman who, though no longer what Kyle gently deemed a 'fat fuck', was still formidable. He was wearing his letterman jacket, even though it was august, and had either gelled his hair this morning or was just a greasy, greasy man. Cartman felt the instant urge to light him and everything he loved on fire.
"Now that you're all seated" Miss Murray began, "Let's begin by getting to know the person sitting next to you a little better. In this class, we're going to be discussing politics a lot, so, as an introduction, please tell your partner your name and some of your political views." She sat down at her desk and pulled out a copy of Vogue, and almost immediately the class was filled with animated chattering. Cartman looked at the blond ape-man sitting silently next to him, and sighed.
"Uh, I'm Jack. Jack Jefferson." He said. "And I guess I'm a liberal or something. You know, um, cuz I'm pro-marijuana and everything." Cartman looked at his pencil, wondering if it would be better to kill himself, or this Jack the jock guy. Instead of doing either of those things, he looked up and smiled sweetly, though in truth he looked about as sweet as a rabid wolf does as it leaps for your jugular.
"Nice to meet you, jock," He said, deliberately misunderstanding. "You can call me Cartman, and I hate hippies like you." The albino gorilla blinked stupidly for a few moments before speaking.
"Dude, um, hippies were awesome. They really stood for something, you know?" Cartman sighed.
"Hippies are goddamn druggie bastards who write crappy music and sit around on their asses doing nothing but singing and smoking. If you're going to whine so fucking much, get up and do something that doesn't annoy the crap out of us hardworking taxpayers!" Jockman blinked and Cartman continued, "If I could I would exterminate every last hippie." He concluded. Jack seemed to be shaken from his stupor and, after shooting a furtive look at Cartman, turned to talk to another ape sitting in the row behind them.
Cartman frowned; this was going to be a very long year.
During break, Stan, Kyle, Cartman, and Kenny met up in their usual spot; at a table in the rear of the cafeteria near one of the food carts. Stan had his head in his hands, and Kyle was thumbing through one of his textbooks. Cartman kept eyeing the muffins at the cart. Kenny spotted this, and shook his head.
"Don't do it, man." Cartman looked up.
"Do what?"
"You know you were undressing those muffins with your eyes." He said dryly. He unwrapped a granola bar and looked at Stan, who hadn't moved since sitting down five minutes ago. "What's wrong with you, Stan?" he asked, ignoring the daggers Cartman was glaring at him.
"Wendy's in his chemistry class." Kyle supplied. Stan looked up and nodded, looking slightly pale.
"I just . . .why?" He asked, looking very pitiful. Kenny cocked an eyebrow.
"Call me crazy, but I am not seeing the problem here." He said, crumpling up his granola bar wrapper and tossing it into the trash. "You like her, right? Well impress her with your...chemistry...skills." He paused. "You are so fucked."
"Seriously, Kenny, I am going to kill you someday." Cartman muttered darkly.
"It's not that," Stan said, "Though thanks for reminding me how bad I suck at science. But this morning I... accidentally scratched her new car." Kenny winced, and Cartman stood up. Kenny immediately turned to him and frowned.
"Dude, really?"
"Fuck you, Kenny." Cartman replied calmly. "I'm getting a muffin."
"So she'll hate me tomorrow." Stan continued morosely, unaware that Kenny's attention was now focused elsewhere. "She'll hate me and I'll never have a chance with her." Kyle sighed, and closed his textbook.
"Dude, she won't hate you." He said, taking pity on his friend. "It's just a car. She'll get over it eventually. Just...offer to pay to have it fixed?"
"Do you WANT to be a big fatass again?!" Kenny was shouting at Cartman in the background.
"I - Gad Dammit, Kenny, WHY ARE YOU SO POOR?!"
"I don't have that kind of money!" Stan said, "I'll just have to . . ." He paused, staring off into the distance. Kyle recognized that familiar glazed-over look his friend got when he was plotting something exceptionally retarded.
"...oh no... Stan - "
"No, Kyle, it's the only way to make sure she never, ever knows. I just have to get out and move my car somehow." They were both silent for a moment, all but oblivious to the raging battle going on behind them.
"CARTMAN YOU ARE A FAT FUCK!"
"NO AH'M NOT, KENNY, AH AM BIG BONED AND YOU KNOW IT!"
"THEN DON'T BUY THE FUCKING MUFFIN!"
"KENNY, AH SWEAR TO CHRIST-"
"Dude, when are you going to do that? You can't even get to your car until school's over." Stan shrugged, color returning to his face now that he had a plan to avoid Wendy's wrath.
"I'll just have to... leave early is all." He said, shrugging. "I'll leave early, and move my car, and it'll be fine."
"Yeah, but how are you going to get out of here before school ends?" Kyle asked skeptically. Stan thought a moment, drumming his fingertips against the table as he did so.
"We all have English together last." He said thoughtfully, "So I'm going to need all of you to pull this off. I'll get into the specifics later, but this should work." The bell rang and Stan, with renewed spring in his step, headed off to class. Kyle sighed. Not even a full day into the school year, and they were already getting in trouble.
Kyle's next class was government, and he fully expected it to be lame. Being a nearly straight As student, he was used to taking honors classes, and he was positive that a class meant for average students would probably drive him insane.
Luckily, there were at least some students he knew in his class. Tweek, Clyde, Bebe, and Rebecca, often called Red by her friends, were all seated towards the back of the room. Kyle headed over there and sat down next to Tweek, who, despite having seen him approach, still jumped about a foot.
"Hi Kyle!" Tweek yelped, left eye twitching slightly.
"Hi, Tweek." Kyle replied. He noticed that Tweek was holding an industrial-sized thermos and drinking from it every few seconds. "What do you have in there?"
"Coffee! To ease my nerves on the first day of school! AAAAH!" Kyle nodded soothingly. He would have to remember not to make any sudden movements; it had been a while since he'd been around Tweek. He turned his attention to Clyde, Bebe, and Red, who were all sitting behind them.
"Hi guys," he said. Clyde nodded in recognition, and Bebe tossed her blonde hair and smiled vapidly. Kyle was quickly reminded of how much he disliked her.
"Hi Kyle," she giggled, "So you have this class too?"
"I guess," he said. He had forgotten that Bebe wasn't exactly the smartest of girls. She smiled at him, and went back to playing with Clyde's hair in an extremely obvious and flirtatious way.
Since Bebe had quite clearly left the building, Kyle turned his attention to Red. He knew her a little; she had dated Kenny for about a month last year, and had spent a lot of time with him and the boys.
However, for most of that time, she had been attached to Kenny's face, so Kyle hadn't really spoken to her much.
"Hi, Red. How are things?" he asked, somewhat awkwardly. Clyde was now tickling Bebe, who was squealing and flailing. Why were all of his classes this year so incredibly weak?
"Oh, you know. Fine." She said, fiddling with her pencil. "So…"
"So…"
"Well, what are your views on government?" she asked. Kyle thought for a minute, and shrugged.
"Well…really I just don't give a shit." She grinned
"Cool. Me neither."
Wendy was the first person in her math class, as usual, and by the time the other students started trickling in she had already unpacked her belongings, claimed the best seat in the class, and introduced herself to her teacher. When the classroom started filling up she took her seat and opened up her well-worn copy of Little Women, intending to read until class started.
Unfortunately for her, it was not going to be a peaceful year.
"Oh no, I didn't know you were going to be in this class." She was jolted into awareness by a very familiar voice directly to her left. Wendy turned her head to see that Eric Cartman had taken the seat next to her, and was unpacking his new and probably very expensive backpack.
"If you don't want to be in the same class as me, then why are you sitting next to me?" Wendy asked, calmly marking her place in her book and setting it aside. Cartman gave a derisive snort.
"Yeah right like I'd want to sit next to any of these other douche-bags." He said. Several of the other students turned and gave him affronted looks, which he didn't seem to notice. Wendy did, however, and colored slightly.
"Cartman, you can't just walk into class and insult everyone in it!" She said in a lower voice, "We have to be in this class all year." He shrugged.
"So?" Wendy sighed.
"You really have no need to be liked, do you?" She observed, picking up her book again, intending to ignore him for the rest of the period. Cartman paused a moment before giving another derisive snort, causing the other students to stare.
"Of course not." Wendy shook her head and went back to her book, and was very relieved half an hour later when the bell rang to go to fourth period.
Kenny was bored.
He was so, so bored. He looked around for something to possibly make him less bored. It was the first day of school, so in P.E. they were just sitting around in the gym, doing nothing. The only people he knew in the class were Butters, who was sitting next to him, and Wendy, who was sitting off to the side reading a book. So Kenny had about twenty minutes left to kill and nothing whatsoever to do.
Not that he would rather be playing hockey or some other useless sport. Kenny didn't like sports at all, though he tended to be good at them by virtue of being tough and wiry, as well as somewhat coordinated and, it had to be said, a little reckless - mostly because it seemed like no matter how badly he was hurt, he always seemed to bounce right back. However, he didn't like sports because most of the ones they played in P.E. were all about teamwork, and Kenny's general attitude about teamwork tended to be along the lines of "Fuck teamwork". He checked the clock again, and sighed.
There was no other option; he was going to have to kill Butters for his own amusement. Because at this point he was so bored that it was either Butters or himself.
Butters was currently engrossed in some book about marble collecting, so Kenny bent over, pretending to tie his shoe. Butters didn't move, so carefully, he untied Butters' shoelaces and tied them together tightly. The other boy, who was somehow completely fascinated by marbles in a way that Kenny only ever was by girls' breasts, didn't notice anything.
He straightened up, and looked at Butters, pretending to notice something.
"Oh my god, Butters! There's a bee on your shirt!" The other boy jumped slightly, dropping his book.
"OH JESUS! IF I GET STUNG BY A BEE, MY PARENTS ARE GONNA GROUND ME!" Butters shouted, looking around for the bee.
"Quick, Butters, run to the bottom of the bleachers! The bee won't follow you!" Kenny suggested helpfully. Butters gave a frightened yelp and tried to run down the steps. However, thanks to the fact that, apart from being creative and poor, Kenny was a complete asshole, he flopped over the first step, and toppled the rest of the way to the ground. He hit the floor with a muffled "oof!", and twisted around to look up at Kenny accusingly.
Kenny, satisfied, turned and ran for it.
At lunch, nothing had changed; Stan was still resolute on somehow sneaking out of class early to move his car. He, Kyle, and Cartman were sitting at their usual table in the cafeteria, and Stan kept stealing glances at Wendy, who was sitting next to Bebe a few tables over. Kyle had tried several times to initiate some sort of conversation, but Stan kept making observations about Wendy, and honestly, he didn't really want to talk to Cartman.
"Dude, I have to do it. She's just sitting there…looking so happy…She doesn't know what I've done…" Stan began for what seemed like the millionth time. Kyle slammed down the bottle of water he had been drinking.
"Oh god damn it." He said simply. "You just scratched it. Barely! You're making this into a big deal, and it's not, now eat your pudding before Cartman does." Cartman glared at Kyle.
"I was not going to steal his pudding."
"Yes you were. You. Fatass."
"Jew bitch." He looked around. "Has anyone seen Kenny? We all have English together next."
Kyle looked around and, sure enough, Kenny wasn't anywhere in the room. He barely had time to wonder if maybe he was off lying dead in a ditch somewhere before the doors burst open, and Kenny walked into the cafeteria, bought lunch, and began stuffing his face.
"Damn, Kenny, I know you're having Doritos for dinner, but slow down." Cartman said, looking at the other boy reproachfully. Kenny stopped inhaling his food and looked up.
"I've been with the guidance counselor this whole time," he explained, "That stupid skank didn't seem to understand that I almost killed Butters because I was bored, not because I have 'problems at home'."
"But you do have problems at home." Cartman said, not seeming to find anything wrong with the fact that Kenny had tried to kill Butters. He himself did it at least once a week. "You're having Doritos for dinner, your parents are alkies, and gad dammit Kenny you are just so fucking poor." Kenny's reply to this was muffled because his mouth was full, but the finger he thrust in Cartman's direction made the message perfectly clear.
"We have English next?" asked Stan, who had been staring at Wendy and had therefore missed everything that had been happening. "With who?" Kyle shrugged.
"It doesn't say on my schedule." Kyle explained, and the bell rang. "But I guess it's time to go and find out." The boys gathered up their belongings - Kenny stuffed the rest of his lunch in his mouth - and headed off towards the English wing.
It was Mrs. Garrison.
Kyle was first through the door, followed closely by Stan. Both boys stopped in the middle of the doorway, struck dumb by shock.. This could not be happening. It was senior year; they were supposed to have nice, normal people teaching them about the real world. Not a sexually confused woman who had failed to ever teach them anything except that they should avoid being like her - him? - at all costs.
"Oh, it's you," she said. "Yes, hello you little bastards. Happy to see me?" Cartman pushed his way past Stan and Kyle, who were still blocking the doorway, and immediately swore.
"Aw, FUCK!"
"Watch your language, Eric, and have a seat in the front." Cartman went, muttering darkly all the way. Stan and Kyle sat in the row behind him, and Kenny took a seat next to Cartman. Students filed in, and Mrs. Garrison handed out the class syllabus.
"All right kids, now this is a mythology and science-fiction class, so you're going to be reading a lot of really stupid stories while I sit at my desk and read Vogue. Any questions?" Stan raised his hand. "Yes Stanley?"
"Can Kyle go to the bathroom?" Kyle turned to raise his eyebrows at Stan. What the hell was he doing?
"What the hell are you doing?"
"You see," Stan continued, "Kyle…Kyle has explosive diarrhea." He explained, patting Kyle's shoulder sympathetically. Kyle shrugged him off, and opened his mouth to differ, but was interrupted by a sharp kick from Stan.
"What." Mrs. Garrison said dryly, putting her hand on her hip.
"Yeah, it's really gross. But can he go? Oh, and I have to go with him." Stan added, as an afterthought. He was already halfway out of his seat and taking Kyle with him.
"Why on earth would Kyle need you anywhere near him when he's—"
"Jesus Christ!" Kyle interrupted, putting his head into his hands. He tried to sit back down but Stan grabbed his collar and pulled him back up again.
"I have to make sure he doesn't…hyperventilate." Stan said. "It's really common among people with explosive…diarrhea…"
"Whatever, just go." Mrs. Garrison said, finally giving in. "Kyle, I hope you feel better."
"No, really, I don't have—"
"Come on Kyle," Stan said, grabbing his friend's arm and practically dragging him out of the room. "Let's get you out of here before you blow." This last statement was followed by several giggles from their classmates.
Once they were in the hallway, Kyle yanked his arm out of Stan's grasp.
"Have you gone completely insane?" he asked. "Explosive diarrhea? Only a complete idiot would believe that!"
"Exactly," Stan said, looking around the hallway. "Now let me know if you hear footsteps—there could be hall monitors."
Kyle wasn't terribly concerned—he would like to see the hall monitor that could stop Stan from getting to his car now—but nodded in agreement anyway, and the two set off down the hall.
Since it was the first day back, there hadn't been a chance to appoint hall monitors. And besides, who would try to skip class on the first day?
Kyle pondered their ironic luck as he and Stan crept down the corridors, peeking around corners to make sure there was no one there. There never was, and so they made it to the doors and out into the parking lot without incident. Kyle finally started breathing again, as Stan searched his pockets for his keys. His searching became more frantic as the color drained from his face. Kyle leaned against the car.
"Oh no."
"I had them when we left class!" he said, searching his pockets a second time, "I—I must have dropped them in the hallway!" Kyle stood up.
"Nice going, dumbass. Now what are you going to do?" Stan took a deep breath, obviously fighting down nausea. School would be over in a little under an hour, so they had that long to find his keys, move his car, and get back into class.
"We're just going to have to go back inside and look for them," he said, walking back towards the doors. "Come on!"
"No way—I'm not going with you." Stan opened the doors.
"Fine, but don't blame me when you get caught by standing out here in the open." Kyle considered this for a moment and, admitting defeat, followed Stan into the building, muttering darkly the entire time.
The hardest part of this was retracing their steps. Stan had insisted on going through nearly every hallway in an attempt to be sneaky instead of going straight to the exit. They combed two different hallways, with no luck, before turning into a third. Stan stopped dead in his tracks, effectively stopping Kyle as well, who had been right behind him. He leaned over to look around his friend to see what had made him pause so suddenly.
He saw the keys twinkling innocently at them from the floor beneath a locker bay. And standing next to the keys, putting a book in her locker, was Wendy. Kyle tried to back away quietly, but it was too late; she had seen them.
"Hi Stan, hi Kyle!" she said brightly, closing her locker. Stan forced himself to breathe; it would be okay, he could just talk to her until she went back to class, and then he would get his keys. As long as he didn't say or do anything stupid, it would all be okay.
"Hi Wendy!" he said, feeling oddly calm, "What are you doing out of class?"
"I have study hall," she explained, "And we're not going anything, so I was putting my books away. What are you guys doing out of class?" They exchanged glances, and Kyle tried his hardest to send a telepathic message through his friend's thick head.
"Stan, I swear to god if you tell her I have explosive diarrhea, I will stab you to death with your stupid car keys."
"We were, uh—" Kyle began, trying to say something before Stan had a chance to.
"You see, Wendy—" Stan began, and Kyle hastily cut him off.
"We have Garrison for English, so we were just…wasting time out here." Kyle finished lamely. Wendy grinned.
"You guys never change." She opened her bag and put a folder in, shifting things around as she did so. With a slight 'flop', a small book - Little Women, as it happened - fell from her bag to the floor. She bent to pick it up, and spotted the keys.
"Oh my god, someone dropped their keys!" she said, picking them up. "I'd better turn these in somewhere." Stan blanched, and made a snap decision.
"Those are mine!" he said, "I must have dropped them. Thanks, Wendy!" She handed him the keys, looking puzzled.
"Oh, you're welcome," she paused, and grinned, leaning towards them in a conspiratorial way. "Hey, do you guys want to sneak out of here early? We could leave and go someplace fun—no one would miss us."
Oh god. Stan thought he might vomit again. Wendy Testaburger wanted to leave school and go 'someplace fun' with him - and Kyle, but he chose to ignore this - and if he did she would find out that he had scratched her brand new car. But if he didn't she would think that he just didn't want to spend time with her, which was exactly the opposite of the truth. Luckily, Kyle saved him once more.
"We can't!" Kyle blurted out. "We left our stuff in class. So we'd have to go get it," he shrugged apologetically and, next to him, Stan started to breathe again.
"Sorry, Wendy." Stan said, "But…" His face started to turn puce and Kyle rolled his eyes, "I'll meet you after class if you want. I think we're parked in the same lot." She smiled.
"Yeah okay." Wendy closed her bag and smoothed out her skirt. "So I'll see you later, then."
"See you," Stan echoed. She turned and walked down the hallway and out of sight, and the boys turned and walked back towards the door.
"That was close, man." Stan said, leaning against her locker.
"It would have been closer if I hadn't saved your ass." Kyle said. "You owe me."
"Yeah, okay," Stan said, pushing the doors open. "Well relax, we're in the clear now. And I have a date with Wendy after school! So I guess it's almost a good thing I scratched her car!" He said, smiling. Kyle sighed.
"You are such an asshole."
While Stan and Kyle were out running around the campus, Kenny and Cartman were still trapped in English, listening to Mrs. Garrison talk. About absolutely nothing. Kenny was rhythmically banging his head on the desk, while Cartman was going cross-eyed with boredom.
"Oh god, I'm so bored." He said, "I swear, five more minutes of this and I'm going to pop."
"I'm not going to survive an entire year of this." Kenny said. "We have to get out of here." He looked around for some way to escape, but there didn't seem to be any. But Kenny knew that if anyone could get them out of here, it would be Cartman. Or possibly Brian Boitano.
"Kenny, I think even Mrs. Garrison would notice if we just walked out."
"I don't care, dude. He's been talking about Jennifer Aniston's hair for the past half hour! We'll just have to use the window!" He eyed the window, and decided that they could probably get through it. He would simply have to rely on Cartman's manipulative prowess to provide a distraction.
"Kenny, there is no way in hell I am going through that window," Cartman warned. Kenny, however, was prepared for this.
"Why? Afraid you won't fit?" He asked, sealing the bargain.
"God dammit, Kenny! Fine, we'll go out the window!" Cartman said, standing up. He grabbed his bag and walked nonchalantly—or so he thought—towards the side of the classroom.
"Eric, what are you doing?" Mrs. Garrison asked.
"Just opening a window to let some fresh summer air into the classroom, Mrs. Garrison," he explained, trying to sound innocent. He looked out into the hallway. "Oh my god, look over there - Stan and Kyle are making out in the hallway!"
Absolutely everyone looked, and Cartman opened the window as far as it would go, and dove through it. He got stuck for a moment, but wiggled and got free again. Kenny took a flying leap from his chair and flew through the window, managing to slip out before anyone noticed anything.
Mrs. Garrison looked at the closing window, and then back at the doorway as Stan and Kyle walked into the room. They looked around at the puzzled faces.
"…What?" Stan asked.
Tuesday, August 20
"Oh my god, you guys, I don't think I can take much more of this school bullcrap," Cartman said, inhaling one slice of pizza and reaching for another. Stan responded to this by using his straw to blow bubbles in the glass of lukewarm Coke he was drinking, and Kenny nodded his agreement.
"You'd better get used to it, fat boy; we still have nine months to go until graduation." Kyle said. Cartman cursed Kyle under his breath.
He, Cartman, Stan and Kenny were at Shakey's Pizza, hanging out after school. Unfortunately, what seemed like the entire student body of South Park High School had the same idea, so the place was extremely crowded, and the four boys had just managed to get a booth in the back. Stan hadn't touched his pizza yet, but had abandoned blowing bubbles in his coke in favor of shredding a napkin and staring at something behind Kyle, which was slightly unnerving.
"Stan, what are you looking at?" he asked. When Stan failed to reply, he turned and looked to see Wendy, Clyde, Bebe, and some blond jock, who was—and there was no other word for it—all over Wendy.
"Oh dude." Was all Kyle could say as he witnessed the somewhat one-sided flirting.
"He's like…a massive blonde boulder." Stan said. "Do you think Wendy likes him?" Cartman looked up from his pizza to see what they were talking about and immediately made a face.
"Oh god I hate that asshole." Stan snapped out of his daze and looked over at Cartman.
"You know him?" he asked. Cartman nodded, surreptitiously stealing Stan's pizza as he did so.
"I sit next to him in government, and he's such a liberal hippie bastard," Cartman said in disgust. He looked at the slice of pizza in his hand, and put it down again. "He's a total douche." Stan reached for another napkin, and began shredding it.
"Look, It's not the end of the world." Kyle said, "Wendy's a pretty girl, and she's going to have guys flirting with her. It doesn't mean anything." Stan gave him a pitiful look, and Kenny stepped in.
"Maybe you should just go talk to her." Kenny said. "It's no big deal. Get your ass over there and ask her if you have any homework in that one class you have with her. It's a legit reason for going up to her."
"But we don't have any chemistry homework," Stan said. Kenny sighed.
"Yes, but she doesn't know that you know you have no homework."
"Yes, she does. Because in class today when Mr. Simpson told us we don't have any homework, I said 'Oh sweet, we have no homework,' and she said, 'Great, this means I only have math homework,' and then I said—"
"Then find another fucking topic!" Kenny interrupted. "But you'd better get over there, or Cartman will kick you in the balls."
"Squire in the nuts." Cartman agreed, studiously ignoring the remaining pizza. Stan hesitated, before standing up and walking over to Wendy's table. She looked up from her conversation with the blond gorilla-boy and smiled at him. The gorilla did not look happy at all, but shot a dark look at Stan.
"Hi, Stan!" Wendy said brightly. Bebe raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. "What's up?" Stan smiled back, and realized he had absolutely nothing to say.
"Hi, Wendy!" he said, desperately trying to think of something, anything, to say to her. "I was just wondering…um…did we have any chemistry homework?" Back at their table, Kyle put his head in his hands, and Kenny sighed in frustration. Wendy cocked her head, looking puzzled.
"No, remember, you said 'Oh sweet, we have no homework'?" Stan nodded, feeling himself slowly turn red.
"Oh yeah. I guess I just forgot. Sorry for bugging you," he mumbled. She smiled, not seeming bothered by him at all.
"You're not bugging me." She insisted. "Who are you here with?"
"Just Kyle, Kenny and Cartman." He said, pointing back towards the table. The blond lump next to Wendy raised his eyebrows and took a swig of Pepsi.
"Eric Cartman? Dude, that son of a bitch is seriously fucked up. How can you be friends with him?" he asked, and Stan shrugged.
"He's never boring," he said. "And he's not that bad once you get used to him." The jock scoffed and Stan felt his dislike for the albino giant increase.
"Naw, dude, that guy's fucking crazy."
"Oh hello, dickhole," came a voice from Stan's left. Stan sighed. Of course. Of course Cartman would have to come confront the guy. He could sense another chili parents incident coming on.
"Maybe you should just leave," the jock said to Stan. "And take your chubby friend with you." Wendy gave Stan an apologetic look, but said nothing. Stan took this as assent, and nodded slightly.
"Whatever," he said. "Come on, Cartman."
"I'm not fat anymore, gad damn it!" Cartman shouted. A nearby waiter looked at them apprehensively. "You know what, screw you gahs, ah'm going to my Shakey's Pizza!" And with that, he walked back to the table, grabbed the round pan with the remaining pizza, and a napkin dispenser, and headed towards the door. The waiter, looking frightened, followed hesitantly.
"Um, you know, that pan and napkin dispenser belong to us. You can't take those with you."
"AH SAID SCREW YOU GAHS!" was Cartman's shouted reply as he slammed the doors open and walked briskly outside. Kenny and Kyle followed, and so did Stan, after leaving a generous tip. He left in such a hurry that he missed the look of faint regret on Wendy's face as she watched him go.
"I can't believe that guy," Stan said, slamming the door to the identical Shakey's Pizza next door. Cartman, complete bastard that he was, had used the stem cells of aborted fetuses to build it about ten years ago. The place was dirty and in disrepair, but they still liked to hang out there sometimes, because no one else was inclined to go into a building made out of fetuses. In fact, Wendy had boycotted the real Shakey's for years in protest. Stan sighed. "What does Wendy even see in him?"
"I dunno, dude." Kenny said, "But hey, you like her, right?"
"Well yeah, dude, I'm really into her." Stan said.
"Not yet you aren't," Kenny said, and before Stan could say anything, he continued. "Just talk to her about stuff in class. And then, when she's talked to you enough, ask her out or something." Stan paled.
"No, I couldn't ask her out—"
"It's the only way you're going to get anywhere!" Kenny said. "Isn't that right, Kyle?" Kyle, surprised at being brought into the conversation, looked up, and nodded.
"Yeah, dude, we only have one year left; you should go for it." Stan gulped, and nodded, still looking pale.
"Yeah." He said. "Yeah, I think you guys are right."
Friday, August 30
Stan turned on the gas, sparked a flame, and sighed. He had been talking with Wendy in class for a week now, and he had promised Kenny that today he would ask her out to a movie. They were in chemistry now, and doing an experiment with burning magnesium. He was lighting the flame, and Wendy was reading the instructions. So far he hadn't said that much to her at all, because his nerves had gotten the best of him, but he was determined to do it.
"All right, now it says to hold it with the tongs over the flame." She looked up, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "Stan, are you listening?"
"What? Oh, yeah." He said. "I just…Wendy, can I ask you something?" She put down the paper she was holding, looking slightly concerned.
"Sure." Stan took a deep breath.
"Well, Wendy, I was wondering if—"
FOOSH.
The magnesium, which he had been holding with a pair of tongs, burst into flame. Stan hadn't been paying attention, and had held it too close to the fire. He jumped, startled, and the burning magnesium dropped onto his sleeve, setting it on fire.
"OH SHIT!" he yelped, flailing.
"Oh my god! Don't move, I'll get the fire blanket!" Wendy yelped. She turned around to get it and Stan, still flailing, waved his hand too close to her long hair, accidentally catching the ends on fire. Wendy dropped the fire blanket and screamed.
Stan dove for the blanket, and then for Wendy's hair. He ended up practically tackling her; she fell over, and so did he, luckily falling with the blanket on her hair. The smell of smoke and burnt hair filled the room, and Stan coughed as the fire alarm began to screech.
"All right, everyone out of the building!" Mr. Simpson said, ushering students out. Stan sat up, taking the fire blanket with him. Wendy sat up also, coughing, and looking in dismay at her badly burned hair.
"Are you all right?" he asked. She didn't look as though she had been hurt. She was looking at her hair, which was, it had to be said, more than singed; her waist-length hair was now burnt up to the middle of her back, and was scorched and smoking. Her eyes filled with tears, and she sniffed.
"No I am not all right!" she said loudly, "Look at my hair!" She looked at the ends and sniffled once more. "It took me years to grow it out, and one lab with you and it's gone!"
"Wendy, I'm sorry—it was an accident!" he said. She stood up angrily, and he decided that he was obviously going to have to break his promise to Kenny.
"And why weren't you paying attention to where you were holding the magnesium?! You knew it was flammable! I could have been really badly burned!" she said in a rush, before burying her face in her hands. Stan felt the familiar sensation of nausea creeping up on him.
"Wendy—I—is there anything I can do?"
Before she could reply, however, the door burst open, and two firemen ran into the room.
"Oh my god, there are students in here!" one of them cried. "Come with us, children!" And with that, he grabbed Stan by the waist and flung him lightly over his shoulder. From the indignant squeaking behind him, he guessed that the second fireman had done the same to Wendy. He felt himself being carried downstairs and through the halls and out of the building to the parking lot, where the rest of the school was. Suddenly, the fireman hoisted Stan off his shoulder and set him on the ground.
"Did you even notice that the building wasn't on fire?" Stan asked angrily. The fireman paused.
"Oh no, I guess it wasn't." he said mildly, before turning around and walking away. Stan looked around for Wendy, but she had found Bebe, who was doing her best to comfort her friend. Wendy had obviously told Bebe what had happened in chemistry, because she kept shooting reproachful glances at Stan. He sighed, and looked around for someone he knew who didn't hate him. But what he found was Cartman, who walked up, and looked at what was left of Wendy's hair.
"Wow, you really fucked that up," he said mildly.
"How did you—"
"Word spreads fast." He said dismissively. "Geez, I know you like her, but did you have to burn her hair off to prove it?" Stan didn't reply, however, because Kenny walked up, took one look at Wendy's hair, and started laughing.
"Dude!" Stan exclaimed, afraid that Wendy would hear Kenny laughing, "It's not funny! I burned off all her hair!"
"I'm not laughing at her, I'm laughing at you!" Kenny said, "You're so incredibly lame that you can't even ask a girl out without lighting her on fire!" Stan contemplated killing Kenny, but thought better of it. He took several deep breaths, and ran his hands through his hair, which immediately reminded him of the inexcusable act he had committed. He forced himself to relax.
"It's okay, I'll just apologize to her later, and everything will be fine. Right?" Kenny patted Stan on the back, looking sympathetic.
"Sure, man. Sure."
Author's Note: So you have no idea how much I agonized over this first chapter and keeping them in character. Really. It was terrible. Anyhow, the next chapter will hopefully be up . . . someday. Someday . . .