With Eric there wasn't even a beginning. Eric Cartman was just a vexation that just always...was.

Wendy remember being in pre-k with him. Recalled very well all of the shitty shit that was elementary school. Highschool was seeming different. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him. Well, maybe she drifted past him in the halls but oh boy, nothing like this. She had just begun to think, this is it, this is the year. Oh yeah Wendy, this is the fucking year. Second week of senior first semester, and every college in a 100 mile radius had their scopes right up Wendy's keester.

Pressure? Ha! She practically had them wrapped around her well manicured fingers. But then, but then, but oh fucking then he was there. Right beside her. At the front of the class. Shoulder to fucking shoulder. In her Honors Journalism course. Eric fucking Cartman.

"Look like you seen a ghost, Testaburger. A devilishly handsome ghost, might I add.", and he just fucking snickered. Like he was her friend. Like he could just waltz his fatass in here and what? Pretend journalism till he's bored?

"Is this a joke to you?", Wendy hissed as the teacher took morning roll.

"The funniest.", he shot her a grin as he sifted through his bag, plopping his books willy nilly on the desk. Gah! Just everything he did was messy and stupid! He was messy and stupid! What was he doing here?

"WHAT-are you doing her?", she stammered, catching herself not using her inside voice.

Eric scoffed in mock offense. "Well, Wendy, some of us are here to learn."

"What is this class then?", she piqued him. Go ahead, squirm for an answer.

"Honors Journalism, obviously."

"No, you fucking dinkle, what's the meaning? To you. Why are you in an Honors Journalism class? You've been in all the bottom feeder classes all these years.", she made a point of fanning out her arms to emphasize "all these years".

"What, like some people can't have interests?", he retorted coolly, before adding, " oh and bottom feeder classes? Really spreading all that tolerance and acceptance around, Testaburger. No, really, I can practically feel the affection radiating from you. You're fucking glowing with love!", he shielded his eyes and feigned being blinded before opening up his books.

Wendy simmered a moment in his insult. Let his annoying voice roll over her and took a minute to herself to build the perfect comeback. Glaring at him. In his damn red corduroy jacket. Jacket that smelled like pine and boy.

"Well you're still a fatass."

"Wendy, I'm crying. No, really. My eyes won't stop. Your words they hurt me so. Please. "

"Okay! Cut the shit! Be honest ", she relaxed a bit in her seat, " Why is Eric Cartman taking Honors Journalism? Literally, I may have seen you like once this entire past three years." Wendy recalled her beginning highschool freshman years, waving to everyone, still talking to the same groups of friends, still being tight with Bebe and Red and the girls before they slowly drifted apart. Like...really slowly. Too slowly.

Wendy was tired of the "slow drift-away". Tired of the half assed texted attempts to all hang out, only for everyone to flake with stories of school work and boys and concerts each had forgotten they had bought tickets for. So, she quit trying. Focused on school work, leaving friends, enemies, frenemies, and even Stan in the dust. But she liked it that way. People were in her dust now. No more "boo Wendy Testaburger!". No more ditching lunch to smoke a little pot under the bleachers with Bebe. No more silly L.A.R.P. fests that the towns youth participated in. No more hot fucks in Stan's bedroom while his parents went grocery shopping.

Okay so maybe Wendy wasn't completely happy leaving all the past in the dust.

Cartman's voice shattered her inner thoughts. "We all got hobbies, ho."

Wendy gave him a once over. Maybe he was sincere. Maybe he was just fucking with her.

"Ha. As if. What's your ulterior motive?", Wendy asked, opening her binder to write down today's assignment.

Eric sighed long and low, pinching the bridge of his nose. "There isn't some ulterior motive, Detective Shit Stain, I mean, obviously I'm gonna learn some tips on how to dig up dirt on bitches, but not only that. I'm gonna learn how to dig up dirt, plaster that shit publicly, get paid, and jerk it in my penthouse apartment. And when I blow my load on my panoramic windows, looking down on all the peons in the streets, I'll say 'gee, sure glad I took that honors journalism class to learn all this nifty shit'!", and he had the audacity to flash her another signature Cartman grin.

Leaving her blushing a bit. "Oh well, if that's all, then by all means.", oh yeah Wendy. Don't even give him the satisfaction of your attention.

He chuckled at that.

"Sit with me at lunch today, gotta show you something that'll really knock your panties off.", he spoke lower as the teacher eyed them both.

"As if."

"Cut that hoity toity shit out, Wends. It's like what 20 minutes you have to sit among the slobbering commonfolk of South Park?"

"You know that's really no-"

"Miss Testaburger and Mr. Cartman, cut the chitchat.", the teacher scolded. Wendy glaring daggers at Eric for getting her in trouble.

She breathed long and deep, calming herself, and continuing on with today's assignment. Joting down notes and charting small venn diagrams to help organize her thoughts. Thoughts that were brushed aside when a small tag of paper landed in the open pages of her textbook.

Wendy sighed, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention, and unfolded the tiny note.

"I better see ur ass at lunch, Wendy."

As she turned to mouth 'fuck no', another tag landed on her books. Interest piqued, she opened it.

"Not like, ur actual ass, I mean u better be sitting at lunch."

She stifled a giggle. He shifted beside her, enough to 'accidentally' jar he shoulder. Wendy looked at him beside her. With ll his books spread out, and the pencil in his hand, his eyes locked on hers. She gulped. Letting her ice queen mask crack.

"What do you say?", he whispered so low only she could hear.

Wendy rolled her eyes. She hadn't eaten at school since sometime in freshman year. She simply packed her own and ate under the bleachers. Under the same bleachers she and Bebe used to sneak under to get a little high between breaks. Yup...those same...lonely bleachers. Everyday, looking at the same collage of gum and sharpie graffiti as she chewed her rye and beansprouts sub. Fuck it. She shrugged, "why not?", she whispered back.

Eric grinned almost triumphantly, nudging her shoulder again. He leaned in close. His lips almost brushing her ear. "Meet me under those bleachers."

Under those bleachers? The ones she ate lunch at everyday? Alone?

She chanced another look at him. He might be big and stupid and messy, but shit he paid attention. Wendy nodded to him.

The class flew by, both of them finishing their assignment. He even offered turning hers in for her when she rose. Eric Cartman, offering to take Wendy's classwork to the teacher. Eric Cartman offering to do anything! Maybe she wasn't the only one doing some personal growing over the years.

When he plopped back in his seat he flicked a paper clip at her forehead. Before she could even open her mouth to lay down the fucking law the bell rang. Everyone gathered their things and Eric looked to Wendy again.

"See you at lunch, Testaburger.", and he was out the door into the bustling and dizzying array of students in the halls, leaving her reeling. After all these years he could do that. Leave her wondering what the fuck was going on, by just opening his mouth. By just being in the same class as her.

Leaving her in his dust.