A few years ago, when Kyle was in the 8th grade, he and Stan had had a sort of fight. Stan and Kyle weren't strangers to the etiquette of arguments and both knew when to stand their ground and when to swallow their pride for the sake of friendship. But this argument had no discernable origin, and both were equally convinced that they were in the right, so a resolution was never reached.

It wasn't until years later, far too long after the fact to matter, that Kyle realized why they had fought. It wasn't over a video game, ethics, or frozen ice men. It wasn't even about Cartman.

It was about a girl.

Kyle had never been attracted to Wendy Testaburger- actually, he thought her love of purses was quite off-putting. But in the 8th grade, something in him began to resent Wendy. He resented her strongly enough to take it out on Stan.

He didn't know why he didn't like her. She was smart, funny, hated Cartman, and didn't talk about girly glittery stuff like most girls did. Kyle just began to hate her, from the way she flipped her hair when she laughed to the way she insisted on linking pinkies with Stan at school. He hated her, and he began to hate Stan for not hating her with him.

Though Wendy and Stan had broken up a million times since then, Kyle still felt a seething resentment toward her. It figured that she'd be Juliet to Stan's Romeo. It was the way it had been since 3rd grade. And things didn't change for Kyle. Never had.

Except for Cuba.


"You okay, man?"

Kenny McCormick's voice jolted Kyle out of his musings. Kenny looked genuinely concerned about him, so Kyle smiled.

"Sure dude. What do you need?"

Kenny grinned, a glint of mischief in his hard blue eyes. As always, his voice betrayed a laugh hidden just under the surface.

"Butters asked me to talk to you about his role."

Kyle laughed loudly, drawing stares from the set crew. Everyone was working hard on their jobs the first week; the actors were memorizing as if their lives depended on it, the costume crew seemed to measure every conceivable length of every actor every five minutes, the set crew was covered in paint and sawdust, and Kyle was trying his best to visualize and record ideal blocking before the rehearsals really began.

Most of the actors were pleased with their roles. Stan was thrilled about being front and center, Kenny's impish grin suited Mercutio perfectly and Wendy threw flirty looks toward Stan every second she could, though it made Kyle want to choke her. Even Cartman was happy being Tybalt, fat asshole though he was.

It seemed the only actor displeased with their role was Butters. He had been grounded for two weeks for being cast as Juliet's nurse.

"Sorry, dude," Kyle told Kenny. "I already tried talking to Big Gay Al and Mr. Slave. They seem to think that the casting came to them in a stroke of genius."

Kenny shrugged. "Thought I'd ask. He's stuttering so hard I'm not sure he'll be able to spit out a single line." Kenny left to rejoin the makeshift study group in the corner of the auditorium. Stan waved at Kyle and turned back to Wendy to read his lines. Kyle fought the urge to throw up.

"Hey there, fancy pants!" Big Gay Al's voice boomed behind Kyle.

"Hey, Al."

"You have those silly little blocking suggestions?" Kyle handed them to him. "That's super! You're a lifesaver!"

Kyle smiled. "Let me know if there's anything else I can do."

As Kyle turned to check on why the makeup crew was sobbing collectively, Big Gay Al stopped him.

"Actually Kyle, there is something." There was a tinge of worry in his voice. Kyle looked at Big Gay Al. "We're kind of over budget and we need to find a way to make money fast."

Kyle was surprised to see a tear in Big Gay Al's eye. "Sure, Al, I'll figure something out."

"Super. Thanks, silly buns." Big Gay Al walked off as melodramatically as he could.


"Talent show."

"No."

"Candy bar fund-raiser."

"No."

"Car wash."

"No."

"Naked car wash."

Kyle shot Kenny a death glare from the driver's seat. He was driving Stan, Butters and Kenny home and he told them about Big Gay Al's concern that the school play wouldn't have enough money to run. They had been bouncing ideas off him since they (well, Butters) fastened their seat belts.

"Aw, shucks, Kyle," Butters pouted. "The band made a whole lot of money with the candy bars."

"I know that, Butters," Kyle sighed. "But there isn't enough time and I'm sure the drama students aren't as dedicated as band kids. You guys are kind of nerds."

Kenny laughed at that and grabbed Butters' earlobe.

"You're a nerd, you're a nerd," he sang as Butters blushed furiously.

"Well, what about a bake sale?"

Kyle looked at Stan, amazed that he had forgotten the most basic fund-raising opportunity in any school anywhere.

"Bake sale?"

"Sure," Stan went on. "Ask moms to make cookies or cupcakes or whatever and we can sell them during school or something."

"Betcha Cartman pays for the whole damn play." Kenny had climbed up to Stan's seat and was poking him patiently in the head."

Kyle laughed. "I can't believe I didn't think of that."

"Maybe you're just not as smart as me." Stan looked innocently serious.

Kyle dropped Kenny and Butters off at Butters' house. "Bye, fellas!" Butters called over his shoulder.

Stan and Kyle drove in silence for a while.

"So…" said Kyle, trying to break the tension. "Romeo, huh?"

Stan grinned. "Yeah! I'm so excited! I mean, I knew I was good, I didn't think I was that good!"

Kyle punched him in the arm. "Way to go, dude."

Silence.

Both of the boys knew they were avoiding a very touchy subject, but neither wanted to breach onto Wendy territory. It was an unspoken agreement- when Stan and Kyle were together, Wendy Testaburger did not exist. But the topic was getting harder and harder to avoid with her being so central to Stan's role.

They pulled up in silence to Stan's house. Stan grabbed his bag and gave Kyle a timid smile.

Just as Stan was about to shut the car door, Kyle stopped him. "Hey Stan?"

"Yeah?" Stan bent hopefully to the window.

Kyle thought for a second about all the emotions coursing through his body; the hatred of Wendy, the confusion in his stomach, the insomnia, the anxiety, the butterflies, how he wanted to tell Stan his latest dreams and nightmares, his love for Stan, his hatred of himself.

Kyle looked up at Stan. "Just so you know, I'm telling Big Gay Al the bake sale was my idea."

Stan laughed and waved Kyle off.

When Kyle got home, he sat in the car for a few minutes and cried.