Chapter Four

Kyle thought Wendy could pull of a pantsuit. They waited outside the doors of the conference room, both trying to take deep breaths and keep themselves from shitting their pants. Wendy's color coded index cards were damp with the sweat from her fingers. Kyle wasn't a drinker but he was certain a shot of vodka would really help with his nerves.

Every time they made eye contact there was another lurch in their stomachs that forced them to admire the sconces on the mustard yellow walls instead of each other. Through the closed doors they could hear the muffled sounds of another presentation being put on, but it wasn't clear enough to discern if Kyle and Wendy's project was up to snuff with the other competitors'. It didn't help that things had been a little tense between them after Wendy woke up off of Kyle's shoulder and immediately turned to her phone to text Stan for the rest of the bus ride. Kyle guessed he was right when he thought Wendy was too tired to notice where she'd fallen asleep. She'd been acting weird ever since.

The sounds through the doors changed. It was time for the scientists to ask questions about the presentation – the most difficult part. Anyone could present something amazing, but most of the points came from answering complicated inquiries about their project. Wendy began chewing on her lip, reviewing potential answers in her head. Kyle did the same, practicing his serious-but-interested face.

The scientists didn't question the students for long. Neither Kyle nor Wendy could tell if that was a good or bad thing. Applause broke out, forcing them to share terrified looks. He didn't know what to say. His desire to be a hero was surfacing as Wendy grabbed the fabric of her navy blue blazer, forcing wrinkles into it with her clammy fists.

"We'll be fine," he squeaked, trying to convince not only Wendy but himself, "We've worked too hard to let nerves ruin our presentation."

Wendy frantically nodded. Her French twist was beginning to fall apart, wisps of her silky black hair escaping the binds of the superfluous amount of bobby pins she'd crammed into her scalp, terrified of looking like a messy high school student in front of such respected scientists. She made a couple of nervous sounds before running at Kyle with her arms outstretched.

He didn't know what she was going to do. She was hurtling at him with no intent of stopping. Kyle tried to back up a couple of steps, running into the wall. They finally met in the middle, Wendy throwing her arms around his neck in a crushing hug. Kyle's back bounced against the wall. It took him a second to hug back, but when he did, he could feel his doubts about their presentation melting away by the second.

"Thank you," her voice was muffled from her mouth being buried in his shoulder, "I don't think I could've done this without you. I'm so glad we're friends."

Her throat sounded like the words were painful. Again, she had to brandish the 'friends' dagger. Kyle didn't have a lot of experience with girls. He didn't know what to do besides run a supportive hand over her hair. It seemed like an awkwardly long hug, but he didn't mind. That day, she smelled of rich perfume.

The doors opened. The two kids from Fort Collins that had just wrapped up their presentation cleared their throats. Embarrassed, Kyle and Wendy peeled themselves apart, trying to smooth over their clothes and run their hands through their hair. Wendy wondered if the kids thought her and Kyle were an item. She really needed to stop touching him so much.

"You guys are up. Good luck," one of them said, reaching out a civil hand for a handshake.

Both Kyle and Wendy shook their hands. The two kids wandered off back down the hallway to the other conference room where the other students from all around Colorado were waiting.

"That's our last presentation from Fort Collins. Our next contestants are from South Park, Colorado. Please welcome to the stage Kyle Broflovksi and Wendy Testaburger of South Park High School."

The announcer inside made hopeful eye contact with the two. Wendy grabbed Kyle's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He turned to look at her. She gave him a somber nod. Kyle was going to give the best presentation of his life if it killed him. They didn't let go until they began the presentation.


If Clyde didn't answer her texts, Bebe was going to start feeling like a real jackass. She'd texted him at least five times since they'd hooked up at the party, and he had yet to respond to a single one. Bebe hated feeling like she was desperate. She already knew she was, she just detested being reminded of it by some stupid boy she had messy feelings about.

Wendy was going to be busy all day with her science field trip, her closest group of friends were all off on some weekend road trip to Aspen that she hadn't been invited to, and she didn't dare text Kenny asking him for her normal hookup of weed with the whole Archive situation still up in the air. Exasperated, she flopped back into her massive pile of pillows and laundry that resided on her bed. She didn't want to just sit at home all day and feel miserable.

Bebe stood up, tromping around her room in her pajamas, searching for something to do. She'd already checked all of her social media a million times. Her closet had been severely picked through and she'd painted her nails twice in two different shades of nauseous bubblegum pink. Bored out of her mind, Bebe turned on her TV. Reruns of Friends were on. Maybe mind numbing television was just what she needed to distract herself from her lack of social life. As soon as she had settled back into bed with an open box of crackers and a half-empty water bottle, her phone went off, lost somewhere in her bedroom.

"Jesus Christ," she muttered bitterly, standing up off her mattress, "Just when I get comfortable someone has to call me."

It took a minute for her to find her phone in the mess. Eventually, she located it, hidden beneath a mountain of acetone-soaked cotton balls on her vanity. She checked the caller ID. It was Red. Red was supposed to be on that Aspen trip, so what was she doing calling Bebe? Shouldn't she be off skiing or flirting with cute bellhops at their hotel?

"Hey, Red," Bebe greeted, a hint of confusion in her voice. "Aren't you in Aspen right now?"

Red laughed a little bit. It was the relaxed laugh of a righteous teenage girl on vacation. "Yeah, we just got back from eating lunch so we're all kind of hanging out at the ski resort. Never guess what I forgot to tell you before we left."

"Annie got a nose job? Nichole finally learned how to get the deodorant stains out of her shirt? Lola discovered the secret to putting on eyeliner without looking like a crack whore raccoon?"

"We can only hope one day those things will be true," Red agreed, "But this is way more important."

Bebe rolled over on her bed, playing with her hair, the other hand holding her cell phone against her cheek. "Spill. Don't keep me in suspense."

There was the unmistakable sound of Red closing a door. The background noise had all but disappeared. Bebe was suddenly way more intrigued. If Red had left a room to dish the gossip, it must've been one juicy rumor.

"Hold on a second, I'm trying to get far away from the hotel room so the other girls don't hear me. You know, it sucks that you couldn't come."

Bebe ground her teeth. Yeah, she thought bitterly, really sucks that you fake bitches didn't invite me. "I know. Wish I could be there with you guys." The plastic, sugary sweet quality of her voice was unmistakable. Thankfully, Red didn't catch on.

"There's the cutest ski instructor here. Milly got his number and they went out last night for hot chocolate. She came back and her lips were so swollen. I was like, 'Do you think we're all totally clueless?' She obviously went and made out with him. I don't think they had sex, though, Milly's too uptight for that."

Bebe nodded. "Yeah, you're right." She was secretly burning with jealousy. Bebe could've been the one to have exchanged stories of hooking up with the ski instructor back in the hotel room, cheeks still shining with after-sex glow.

Another door closed behind Red. "Okay, I'm in the gym. There's only one other person in here, and it's some fat guy running on the treadmill with his headphones in."

She was starting to feel even more irritated. Bebe didn't want a description of everything that was happening, she wanted the rumor or gossip or whatever information Red had as soon as possible. She didn't deal with suspense well. Bebe really needed to work on her patience.

"So what's the deal? What's so important it couldn't wait until school on Monday?"

Red made a giddy sound between a giggle and a squeal. "So you know how on Wednesday my mom picked me up early from cheer practice so I could get my hair done?"

"Yeah," Bebe urged, practically quivering with anticipation.

"My mom took me back into work – you know, she's a nurse at that little clinic on Main Street – because she forgot her purse. Anyway, while she was looking for it, I happened to glance over at her computer, and someone's test results were still open. Oh my God, Bebe, you should've been there. I'm still shook."

Bebe wished she could reach through her phone and strangle Red. She just wanted to know why she had called her in the first place. "Whose test results were they?"

"Clyde Donovan's. He'd gone into the clinic a few weeks ago to get an STD test done. That's not even the best part," Red dramatically paused to take a deep breath, "Clyde has the clap! He tested positive for gonorrhea!"

Under any other circumstances, Bebe would've been squealing with laughter and gleefully texting the cheer squad group chat with the information, but instead of excitement, she was feeling queasy and panicked. She'd just had sex with him. Bebe had sex with a boy who had gonorrhea and he didn't even tell her beforehand. She was actually feeling a little violated. A small piece of her maybe even wanted to cry.

"Are you sure it was Clyde? Like, you're absolutely positive it was his test results you saw?"

Bebe could practically hear Red roll her eyes. "Duh. His name was printed right on the top. I know what I saw. Isn't that crazy, though?"

She swallowed hard, feeling a little dizzy. "Yeah. Wild."

"Oh, shit. My mom's calling me. She's probably trying to check up on us. I'll text you later. And remember – you didn't hear it from me."

Red hung up without warning, leaving Bebe's ears ringing. It took a few seconds for her news to really register with Bebe's groggy brain. Clyde Donovan had the clap. Bebe had sex with him. That meant she could have the clap, too. Why hadn't he told her? Did he think it was okay to leave out that tidbit of information just because they had used a condom? She wanted to be furious with him, but she wasn't. Against her will, a million irrational excuses for what he had done were piling up in her head.

Bebe crawled into her desk chair and turned on her laptop, doing a quick Google search for 'gonorrhea.' She drank in what she found bit by bit, trying to remain calm but failing to do so. By the time she was finished reading up on symptoms, she was sick to her stomach. Most of the time, people didn't even show symptoms, so how was she supposed to know if she had it or not? Bebe was having trouble deciphering the swirling storm of emotions brewing in her mind. Was she pissed off or depressed? Was she on the brink of tears or ready to throw down with Clyde?

After a few moments of consideration, Bebe decided she'd like to physically fight Clyde as soon as possible. He had jeopardized her trust and her health just to get some ass. Forget her complicated puppy dog feelings – if he'd given her the clap, there was going to be hell to pay.

Bebe threw her hair into a sloppy ponytail and put on a bra underneath her South Park Cows sweatshirt. Once her toes had been stuffed into a suffocating pair of Uggs, she grabbed her Volkswagen keys off her dresser, thundering down the stairs and swinging her handbag over her shoulder. In the dining room clipping coupons, her mom called after her.

"Bebe, where are you going?"

She stopped in the entryway of the house, irritated. "Over to a friend's."

Her mom plucked her wire-trimmed reading glasses from her nose and gave her an up and down look. "You're leaving the house in that? You look like you just rolled out of bed."

Bebe glanced in the mirror hanging by the front door. It was true that she looked a little rough, but she couldn't care to take the time to look nice just to go get some answers.

"I don't care what I look like."

Mrs. Stevens raised her eyebrows and readjusted her glasses, looking at a Kohl's catalogue. "That much is obvious." She started to cut out another promotion and placed it in her coupon book. Sometimes, the little things her mom said got under her skin. "Be back before dinner, honey. We're having lasagna."

With a roll of her eyes, Bebe was out the door, climbing into her curb parked car. It took only minutes to find herself outside the Donovan house. The change in atmosphere from Friday night to Sunday morning was stark. Instead of the windows vibrating in their panes from the throbbing music, everything seemed deathly still. It was almost peaceful. That was about to change when Bebe marched in there to give Clyde a piece of her mind.

On her way out of her car, she slammed the door, her keys in her fist. She didn't bother to ring the doorbell and barreled right into the living room, where Clyde and his friends were watching a football game. Bebe realized as they all gawked at her that she really didn't have a plan as to what she was going to do once she got there. They seemed frozen in time until Clyde shot up from his seat on the couch with pink cheeks. His mouth was slightly open, like he wanted to ask her something but couldn't find the words.

"Bebe? What are you doing here?" Craig was the first one to actually speak in his usual monotone. He had his gangly legs sprawled across Tweek's lap. Not surprisingly, he seemed the least shocked to see her.

Tweek was playing something on his 3DS. His twitchy eyes were flickering back and forth from his screen to Bebe, like he couldn't decide which one was more important to focus on. Next to them, Token had donned a jersey for the occasion of watching the game, and had a mouthful of tortilla chips and queso. His jaw was still hanging open from the surprise of Bebe storming into their peaceful Sunday morning. She swallowed nervously.

"Clyde and I need to talk."

He looked terrified. Good, Bebe thought menacingly, he should be.

Clyde wiped his hands on his jeans. "Can it wait? We're a little busy."

"No, it can't wait. I need to talk to you now." She tried to sound forceful but was borderline whiny.

The guys were all casting looks between each other that ranged from confused to knowing. Bebe wondered if Clyde had already told them the story of their sexcapade in his parents' bedroom – including all the parts where she cried and then he told her she acted like a total virgin. The mere thought caused the flames of anger to ignite in her brain again.

He ripped his eyes from his friends and then finally made eye contact with her. He caved. "Fine, let's go in the kitchen."

As soon as they had passed the threshold from the living room into the kitchen, Token, Craig, and Tweek began whispering like a group of teenage girls. Bebe's suspicions were confirmed. There was no way Clyde had slept with her and hadn't blabbed to at least half the school by then.

Clyde leaned against the kitchen counter and tried but failed to look nonchalant. He oozed guilt. He was looking at everything but her.

"Red told me. About your test results from the clinic."

He let out a long, tired breath. "Yeah. I kind of figured you had found out somehow."

"Well," Bebe bit her lip, knitting her eyebrows together, "Why didn't you tell me? We had…sex."

Clyde pushed away from the counter and paced toward the sliding glass doors that led to his backyard. The pool cover was back on. Bebe could vaguely see the muggy expression on his face in his reflection. There was a strange mixture of emotions on his face. Mainly, he looked like he'd just smelled Stan's cleats after football practice. After watching a flurry of snow dance across the plastic cover over the pool, Clyde gave a wry smile.

"I wasn't exactly thinking, 'Hey, before I fuck this girl, I'm going to tell her I got the clap.'"

Bebe dug her long fingernails into her palms to keep from screaming. She needed to be level headed until he gave her a good enough reason to lose it. "Even though we used protection you needed to tell me. Not telling someone something like that…." She grimaced and ran her hands over her face.

"About that," Clyde sheepishly said, slowly turning to face her and rubbing the back of his neck, "I don't think I had it on."

The color slipped from Bebe's face and plopped right into a heavy ball in her gut. Was this going to be her reason for being imprisoned for murder? "You don't think you had it on right or you didn't have it on at all?" She could vividly picture driving a knife into his chest. Her fingers lingered dangerously near the knife block on the counter behind her.

He swallowed once, twice, three times and then twisted up his face. "I was really drunk. It was slippery, and I couldn't really get it on, and you only looked for a second so I just kind of threw it on the floor." Clyde wouldn't stop wringing his hands.

"You what?" Bebe shrieked.

In the living room, things went silent. Clyde cast a panicked look toward the couch, where Bebe was sure all of his friends were ogling like wide eyed owls. She struggled to catch her breath. Her body had gone cold and clammy, yet the fury was burning brighter than ever.

"That's – that's like rape, Clyde!"

He held up his hands in a weak attempt to sedate her. "Stop yelling. I didn't know what I was doing, I was drunk," he begged, voice slowly crawling higher and higher.

The ground felt like it was swirling. Bebe found herself wishing she was in one really bad dream. She felt...dirty. Violated, even. A bit like a spent prostitute might feel. Clyde cemented the fact that she was in her own hellish reality by putting a hand on her arm. She shoved away from his touch angrily.

Her ponytail swished against her neck when she shook her head violently. "Don't touch me. Don't even fucking look at me, you asshole." Her voice was a deep whisper, dropping off as her throat was clenched in a vice. "And don't even think of talking to me at school."

"Bebe," Clyde began, but she didn't let him finish.

She closed her eyes to try and steady Clyde's rocking kitchen. "I – I could've gotten pregnant. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He let out a little breath that could've been mistaken for a chuckle. "I remembered from when we were dating that you were on the pill."

"I could've stopped taking it. You didn't know. You couldn't have known for sure. You didn't ask."

He shook his head and did a subtle eye roll. "Please. Like you would stop taking birth control."

Bebe readjusted her purse on her shoulder, turning on her heel to leave the room. She was done talking to him. The excuses she'd made up before were light years away, laughing at her from their place on Pluto. How outlandish had she sounded trying to excuse what he had done? Clyde gave an exasperated sigh behind her and began to follow, but she turned around once they had stopped square in front of the TV. Token was pissed. He stretched his neck out to see behind Bebe's massive ass.

"I'm sorry. Everything I said is wrong." Clyde tried and failed to make a decent apology.

He tried to put his hands on her shoulders again. Bebe squared her arms and shoved him as hard as she could. He winced, tripping backward a few steps, and caught his balance on the armchair where Token was sitting. Clyde rubbed where Bebe had pushed him while she tried to think of something poisonous to leave him with. His eyes were both hurt and angry.

She looked down on him like a queen would glare down on a peasant. "You know what was really wrong? That I lowered myself enough to let you fuck me."

Craig whistled. Tweek gave a little giggle and bit his fist to keep himself from laughing when Clyde shot him a venomous look. Token managed to rip his eyes from the TV one last time to stare slack-jawed at Bebe as she shook her head, making her way out of Clyde's house.

Bebe climbed into her car. In the creepy still silence of her Beetle, she tried to gather what had just happened. She had unprotected sex with a kid who had gonorrhea. How was she supposed to go home, face her mother, and tell her that she'd been right all along? Her parents were going to have a field day complete with an 'I Told You So' musical number once they found out. Just the mere thought of trying to sit her mom down at the kitchen table to tell her she needed STD testing left a sour taste in Bebe's mouth. Worst of all, Clyde's friends had heard their entire altercation. Did they know that Clyde had the clap? Did they know Bebe could've caught it too? With nowhere to turn, Bebe did what all desperate teenage girls did – called her best friend.

The phone went to voicemail. Wendy must've been still giving her presentation. Bebe was feeling more depressed by the second.

"Hey, Wendy. I really need to talk to you. Whenever you're done doing whatever nerd crap you're doing please call me. I need my best friend. Bye."

She hung up and waited a while to see if Wendy would call her back. After seven minutes, Bebe sighed, and drove home. Even when her mom asked her how everything was, she forced a smile and lied. According to Bebe, everything was just peachy.


Hope you enjoyed it! Sorry this one was a little late. It was prom weekend and I had a lot of plans and painstaking beauty regimens to keep up with. There's going to be a lot more action happening in the story now. Make sure you read, review, follow, favorite, whatever. Thanks to everyone who has given this story a little love! See you next week.