Chapter 7: Zipper Blues
Wendy's eyes opened and closed slowly to greet the morning light leaking into the living room of Kenny's apartment. The girl was just about to try for five more minutes of sleep before realizing that there was somebody else in the room; somebody standing just a few inches away from the couch.
"Holy shit Butters," she gasped awake, her eyes shooting open as she recoiled into the couch in surprise. Kenny's roommate stood over her, looking bashful and nervous, as if he'd been too timid to disturb her sleep.
"Oh gosh Wendy, I didn't mean to startle you!" the boy began, as frazzled as ever. "It's just that, uh, I really need to park my car, and I think you're in the space in front of the building, and Kenny's in my spot as usual, and uh…"
Wendy rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she sat up on the couch, recollecting the events of the previous night in her mind. "Right. Yeah, sorry. I'll move my car right away."
"We're leaving anyway. Sup Butters?" Wendy turned to see Kenny emerging from his room, swiping through something on his phone, parka slung over his shoulder.
"Where are we going?" Wendy asked as she began to pull on her boots. Hearing her phone vibrate at the foot of the couch, she picked it up to find that Kenny had just texted her an address.
"There," the boy told her as he pocketed his phone. "You can just follow me though. Are you ready to go? Are you always this slow in the morning?"
Wendy craned her neck to shoot the boy a glare, only to be met by a cocky grin. They remained silent as they made their way down the apartment building's stairs and out to the street below, Butters trailing at their heels.
"So uh, what did you two get up to last night?" he asked hopefully.
Wendy and Kenny spared each other a quick glance before heading to their separate cars without saying a word.
"Oh, o-okay," Butters resigned. "See you later maybe!" He watched Wendy's Prius pull away from the curb before making his way over to his own car, still illegally parked in a loading zone at the end of the block. Drawing closer to unlock the door, he found a parking ticket tucked into one of the vehicle's windshield wipers.
"Aw, hamburgers…"
Wendy trailed Kenny's beat up old Jetta across town and into the parking lot of South Park Storage – practically a village of walk-in lockers and garages housing old computers, dusty rugs and family heirlooms, the sentimental values of which had diminished just enough to land them in the small mountain town's own redneck version of the Catacombs.
Locking her car behind her, Wendy strode over to Kenny's Jetta as he fiddled with his key in the car's door, her Doc Martens splashing in the day-old rain water that still filled the lot's potholes. "I can't believe you keep your drugs in a storage locker," she smirked, sidling up beside him.
Kenny turned around, practically blushing. "You think you're pretty smart, huh. Who says that's why we're here?"
"Well I mean, isn't it?"
Kenny's face was pink. "No," he huffed, before heading off in the direction of the lockers. Wendy followed close behind as the boy led her into the maze of cracked pavement and rusty garage doors.
"Wouldn't a whole storage locker full of pot totally reek?" Wendy asked as they turned a corner to reach a fork in the path. "Doesn't this place have security or something?"
"I don't have a 'whole storage locker full of pot,'" Kenny answered as they hung a right. "Besides, it's not like it'd be the strongest smell coming out of one of these things."
Wendy couldn't disagree.
Finally, they reached a dead end, a single storage locker at the end of a path that Wendy doubted she could retrace on her own. Kenny pulled out his keys and unlocked the shutter, rolling it up and ducking inside. Wendy followed before Kenny shut them into the locker and pulled a cord hanging from the ceiling to turn on a light and illuminate the interior. As the locker lit up, Wendy found herself among stacks of boxes and racks of old clothes.
In one corner of the locker was what appeared to be a small mock-up of a… mission control center. Broken computers sat on a dingy old desk that looked like it could have been lifted out of a dumpster. In front of the desk sat a rolling chair, with what looked to Wendy like a blue cape draped over the back. Swiveling the chair around, she found a large helmet covered in tin-foil resting in the seat.
"Wait," she turned to Kenny. "Does this storage locker belong to Butters?"
"Nooooooo!" Kenny replied, as if offended by the accusation that he was freeloading in not only Butters' apartment, but his storage locker as well. "It's his grandma's."
"You're really unbelievable, you know that."
"Look, whatever. He hasn't used it since he used to come here and play 'Professor Chaos' back when we were kids."
"And now you use it to store your pot. Where is that, by the way?"
Kenny walked over to what looked like a large standing cooler in the corner, which Wendy noticed wasn't plugged in. As he lifted the lid, Wendy could see that he'd attached some kind of sun lamp to the inside of the cover. Wendy stepped closer and looked inside to see a couple of marijuana plants sitting at the bottom.
Kenny closed the lid. "The sun lamp helps them grow. Enough questions though," he told her as he shifted his attention to the racks and boxes pushed into the other corner of the locker. "I gotta find something."
As Kenny continued his search, Wendy noticed a cork board propped up against the opposite wall. Moving closer to investigate, she saw that someone had used it to create some kind of diagram: photos of children – some of whom Wendy recognized as her old elementary school classmates – arranged around a blurry photo of another child, his face obscured by a cowl and mask. Pieces of string attached the children's photos to push-pins marking specific spots in a map of South Park carefully labeled and annotated below. Above the masked child's face were three words.
"Who is Mysterion?"
"What the hell is this?" Wendy asked as she picked the cork board up.
"Huh?" Kenny turned around. "Oh, that must be from when Butters was trying to figure out who that Mysterion kid was."
"Jesus, I like totally forgot about that. Did Butters ever figure it out?"
"What do you mean? Everyone knew it was Kyle, he took his mask off in front of the whole town."
"Oh please, you can't tell me you really bought that."
"I mean, why would Kyle confess like that if it wasn't actually him?"
"I dunno, but I find it pretty hard to believe that he would've been able to sneak past his mom every night to go jumping around rooftops while he should've been studying. Besides, wearing a mask doesn't really seem to be his style. When did Kyle Broflovski ever do anything for anyone if he couldn't brag about it afterwards? Who knows, maybe that's why he decided to take the fall."
"I never figured you for a conspiracy theorist."
"Hey, I got pretty caught up in the Mysterion hype too. I actually did a little investigating myself. At one point I thought I'd even figured out who he was, but the trail went cold after Kyle confessed and Mysterion disappeared."
"Well who knows," Kenny said as he zipped up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. "Maybe the truth's still out here. Come on, I got what we need; let's go."
"So what's the plan tonight?" Wendy asked as the pair finally emerged from the maze of storage lockers back into the parking lot. "You still haven't told me what we're doing."
"We're selling drugs, dude."
"Uh, yeah, I know, but like... Where? To who?"
"Isn't it 'to whom?' Didn't you go to NYU?"
"Oh my god I am already regretting this."
"Relax," Kenny said as he opened his car door and tossed his backpack into the passenger seat. He leaned against the vehicle, resting his arm on the open door. "We're gonna go to a show at the Lanes and see if we can move some product."
"The Lanes. Like... South Park Lanes? That shitty bowling alley up by Middle Park that puts on concerts?"
"Yeah, where Stan's dad did all those Lorde covers like a year ago."
"I heard about that on Facebook..." Wendy half-remembered, rolling her eyes. "Please tell me we're not going to something like that."
"Nah, tonight's like a proper concert, they're clearing out the bowling lanes and everything."
"Well who's playing?"
"A couple bands, but Kerplunk are headlining."
"Kerplunk. Why does that name sound familiar."
"Oh man, you don't remember them? They were only like, THE biggest tween wave band!"
"Oh my god, tween wave?" Wendy practically recoiled in disgust. "All of those bands sounded like shit!"
"I know," Kenny chuckled. "Can you imagine how high the people who still listen to them must need to get to enjoy that stuff?"
Wendy's eyes narrowed. "Truuuuuueeee."
"So we'll go check it out, sell some stuff, and listen to some shitty music. Doesn't sound too bad for a third date, right?"
"What's that supposed to mean."
"Well I'm not counting our little impromptu smoking sesh last night, so after Ike's party and Jack in the Box, this is technically our third date."
"Yeah, I'm walking to my car now," Wendy deadpanned as she turned to go, unlocking her car with the remote attached to her keys.
"Hey you know what the third date means!" Kenny called after her. He laughed as she raised her middle finger and flipped him off without turning around. "I'll pick you up at seven!"
Wendy practically fell through her bedroom door, dropping her backpack to the ground and collapsing onto her bed. After spending another night stoned beyond all coherence in Kenny's apartment, it felt good to be back on familiar bedding, if only for a moment. Between her decision to team up with Kenny and her first week of community college, Wendy felt as if she hadn't had a moment's rest in days. In fact, she couldn't actually remember going to bed since… Tuesday? Now that Wendy thought about it, she still couldn't remember anything from the last couple days. Shit, after last night she'd almost forgotten about that whole "fugue state" thing. Blacking out for three days sounded like something she might want to talk to a doctor about. The least she could do was hop on the internet and do a little research for herself.
Picking up her phone from the desk next to her bed, Wendy opened up the device's web browser and ran a quick search on dissociative fugues. The internet directed her to a Web MD article, which explained that states of prolonged amnesia and unexplained behavior can potentially result from long periods of stress or anxiety. Wendy let out a quiet sigh of relief. She'd worried briefly that her state of amnesia might have been some weird side effect of smoking weed with Kenny last weekend. But considering how stress and anxiety had practically been her only friends since she'd gotten back to South Park in June, she figured that this explanation made more sense. Her consciousness had simply gotten so fed up with having to deal with all the shit that plagued Wendy's existence on a daily basis that it had decided to take a break. Reflecting on the state of mind that occupied her head for the vast majority of her waking hours these days, Wendy could hardly blame her brain for having to take a few sick days.
Reading through the rest of the article left Wendy feeling relieved that she hadn't seemed to do anything crazy during her blackout. A few additional internet searches yielded reports of people waking up from fugue states thousands of miles away from home, without any form of identification and no way to account for the missing days, weeks, or even months that they'd spent blacked out. Wendy's recent behavior may not have exactly been typical of how she'd behaved in the past, but at least she'd woken up to find herself seated in her public speaking class at Middle Park Community College and not, say, wandering across NYU's campus in a confused daze. She shuddered to think about just how embarrassing the outcome of her brain's vacation may have been before willing such thoughts out of her mind. Nothing she'd read seemed to imply that this kind of thing was a chronic condition and she'd be damned if she'd let it happen again. Nobody fucks with Wendy Testaburger, not even her own brain.
In classic Testaburger fashion, Wendy decided that the best way to deal with an issue as psychically terrifying as losing her grip on reality was by diverting her efforts to solving a more manageable problem. For instance: how was she going to sell drugs at this concert tonight? She assumed Kenny would at least be willing to give her a few pointers, but Wendy always liked to be as prepared as possible. She'd realized on the way home that she actually had no idea how public drug deals went down, especially ones at shows. Sure, she'd caught the occasional whiff of pot at the concerts she'd been to with her friends in New York, but those had mostly been shows in people's basements and living rooms. South Park Lanes was an actual venue; they even usually had a few security guards working the place during concerts. How was Kenny expecting to sell pot in an environment like that?
Turning her attention back to her phone, Wendy navigated away from Web MD to run another search: "how do you sell drugs at a concert?"
Unfortunately, the information provided by the internet's community of drug dealers wasn't quite as helpful as the article she'd read about fugue states. Most of the results that turned up were nothing more than posts on abandoned message boards for drug users, written by people who just seemed to be looking for the same information. Wendy wondered how many of them were also selling drugs with their ex-boyfriend's best friend in order to save money for college.
After browsing the web for a few more minutes, Wendy dropped her phone in frustration. She wasn't exactly expecting "How to Sell Drugs for Dummies", but she was at least hoping for something a little more helpful than "if u can't get rid of drugs at a concert ur a fucking idiot".
Wendy groaned and rolled over until her face was pressed down into her pillow. Fuck it, she'd figure something out. The concert wasn't until later, and she had more pressing things to worry about first. Like whether or not she'd managed to find time for a shower during her three-day fugue state. She was sure she could use one at the moment. After all, who knows what unholy stench from the lockers of South Park Storage had managed to cling to her? Ugh, but the shower was all the way down the hall, and her bed was... not...
Kenny hustled through the doors of Shaky's Pizza Place, late for a lunch appointment that he'd almost forgotten about in the wake of Wendy Testaburger showing up at his door and commandeering the last fifteen hours of his life. Scoping out the dining area, he spotted Ike Broflovski waving from a corner booth.
"You're late," the Canadian nodded as Kenny approached. "I ordered already."
"Ugh thanks, I'm sorry," Kenny apologized as he discarded his parka and took a seat. "I was, uh doing drug stuff."
"I figured. Speaking of which, how'd you do last weekend?"
"At your party? Not too bad! I kinda ended up having to leave before I could get rid of everything I came with, but..."
"Because you had to take Wendy home?" Ike asked. Uh oh. Kenny didn't like the way Ike had said that. Or the look in his eyes. Or that fucking shit-eating grin on his face. God damn it.
"Yeah," Kenny tried to reply as calmly as possible. "Because I had to take Wendy home." He reached for the glass of water sitting on the table in front of him and took a long, slow sip. He could feel Ike's eyes on him the whole time.
"I know that you didn't take Wendy home, Kenny."
Kenny choked on his water. "I knew you knew that I didn't take Wendy home!" He practically shouted. "How did you know that I didn't take Wendy home!"
"Because I saw you dropping her off down the block the next day, dumbass."
Kenny seethed in silence as their waiter arrived, placing a large pizza in the middle of the table.
"And can I get you two anything else?" He asked cheerily.
"No, but come back in a few minutes," Kenny murmured as Ike smiled at him from across the table. "I have a feeling that I'm going to need a drink."
"So what happened," Ike asked after the waiter had left. "I've been waiting all week to talk to you about this. Why does Wendy Testaburger leave a party with Kenny McCormick? Where do they go? What do they do?"
"God, I hate this. We just went back to my apartment."
"Yeah, how does that happen? I mean, you're good McCormick but you're not that good. Not even you could charm Wendy Testaburger into leaving a high school party and going back to your place with you. I don't know if anyone on Earth could pull that off."
"Trust me, I'm as surprised as you are. Especially considering the mood she was in that night. I swear to god, I was afraid she was going to burn a hole in my skull every time she glared at me. And she glared at me a lot."
"And yet you still somehow got her to sleep with you."
"That's where I'm gonna have to let you down, kid."
"What do you mean. Are you telling me that you, Kenny McCormick, brought a girl home from a party and didn't have sex with her? I actually find that almost harder to believe than Wendy fucking you."
"Yeah, we're truly through the looking glass now, aren't we." Kenny carefully lifted a slice of pizza from its serving tray and dropped it onto his plate. "The night wasn't a total bust though: I did manage to get her to smoke weed for the first time."
"Whaaaaaaat! That's like way better than you sleeping with her! Jeez. I can't tell you how relieved I am to know that's all that happened, too. The thought of Wendy getting into bed with you had me seriously concerned for the girl's mental health."
"Oh, is that what was bothering you," Kenny deadpanned. "Don't worry, I think letting me smoke her out met Wendy's 'bad choices' quota for that night. Afterwards we just kinda played Mario Kart and passed out on my couch. She did let me take her to Jack in the Box the next morning, though."
"That's seriously awesome. It sounds exactly like what she's needed after all the shit she's been dealing with lately. You know, I can't say that's what I had in mind when I asked you to try and lift Wendy's spirits last weekend, but I have to hand it to you Kenny: you always manage to surprise me."
Kenny laughed. "If that surprises you, what I'm about to tell you next is really gonna knock you out: Wendy wants to sell drugs with me."
Now it was Ike's turn to choke on his water. "Bullshiiiiiit," the Canadian replied. "You can't expect me to believe that."
"For real! You can ask her! Actually wait, don't; she'd probably kill me if she knew I told you."
"Convenient," Ike leered. "I don't believe this. There's no way you could have convinced Wendy to sell drugs with you. What would even be the point? I mean, that would be the most bizarre way you've ever tried to get in a girl's pants."
"Dude! Gross. Creepy. Look, the whole thing was her idea, okay? You know about how she doesn't have the money to keep paying to go to school in New York right? I guess she figured she could try and raise some tuition by selling pot up around Middle Park."
"That's ridiculous. I mean, Wendy is... I dunno, crafty, but that doesn't sound like her."
"Yeah, I mean, I never really got to know her too well back when she was dating Stan but needless to say, I was pretty shocked myself. Like, I had no idea Wendy was this cool."
"I don't think 'cool' is the word I'd use. I'm actually kinda worried about this."
"Oh c'mon, she'll be fine. She's Wendy Testaburger. I'm almost looking forward to some dumb stoner trying to mess with her, just to see what she'd do to the guy."
"That's not what I meant; seriously, this is weird. This isn't like her. Forget getting in bed with Kenny McCormick, what kinda state of mind does a girl like Wendy have to be in to start selling drugs with him?"
"You know, a lot of this conversation has been pretty offensive to me."
"This doesn't strike you as extremely odd?"
"I dunno, it doesn't seem too weird to me. The whole college thing doesn't work out so you start selling drugs. I mean, honestly, that's probably what I'd do."
"You didn't have to drop out of college to start selling drugs."
"Yeah, lucky for you and your parties. Hey, speaking of which, how did you get the goth kids to play at your house last week?"
"Firkle owed me a favor, I helped him cheat on his history final last year."
"Oh you're friends with Firkle? Cool. Tell him to stay away from my fucking sister."
Wendy woke up to the sound of someone knocking on her door.
"Wendy?" She could hear her mother's muffled voice coming from the other side. "Are you in there?"
Ugh, fuck. She must have fallen asleep. One of those accidental naps that, instead of leaving you rested and refreshed, finds you waking up in a puddle of your own drool, unsure of where you are and how you could possibly feel so shitty. Dragging herself out of bed with a yawn, Wendy rubbed her eyes and staggered across the room. Why was it so dark?
"Hey mom," she yawned as she opened the door. "Sorry, I guess I just-"
Wendy's eyes snapped open to find her mother staring at her. Behind her stood Kenny McCormick, his face split by the biggest shit-eating grin Wendy had ever seen.
Wendy wasn't sure if she was having a nightmare of if she was just in hell. She was kind of hoping for the latter, though.
"Wendy..." her mom started. "Your hair..."
Oh no. Wendy's hand shot up to the side of her head to find her undercut exposed. Shit. Wendy hadn't told her mom about the little anxiety haircut she'd gotten before she'd come back home. It wasn't that she thought her mom would disapprove or anything; she just feared that her mother might take it as some kind of cry for help (which, let's be real, it totally kind of was). The last thing she'd wanted to do was give her mom one more thing to worry about.
"...is totally awesome!" Kenny finished for Wendy's mom. "I didn't know you had an undercut!"
Shaken free from her terrified stupor, Wendy slammed the door shut.
"Give me a minute!" she shouted from inside. Kenny McCormick was in her house. Kenny McCormick had talked to her mom. Kenny McCormick, who she'd done drugs with last night. Kenny McCormick who she was going to SELL drugs with tonight. This wasn't happening.
"Is everything okay, dear?" Her mom asked from the hallway. "Kenny said you two had plans tonight and came to see if everything was okay when he didn't hear from you."
Shit. How long had she passed out for? She grabbed her phone from her desk to see that it was 7:30. She winced. Okay but still, he didn't have to come to her house.
God dammit, what was she going to do? She couldn't just tell her mom to send him in; she still had to get dressed, and doing so while her mother knew she had a boy in the room might raise... questions. She couldn't tell her mom to bring Kenny downstairs while she got ready either – who knows what kind of embarrassing shit one might say to the other in the meantime? Wendy was still trying to figure out which option was the lesser evil when she heard her mother's voice from the other side of the door.
"Wendy?" her mom called through the door again. "Are you sure you're okay? If you don't feel well, I can always tell your friend that you have to stay in tonight."
"No mom, everything's fine!" Wendy called through the door as she began rooting through her closet. Maybe if she was quick enough she could get Kenny out of her house before he managed to say anything too incriminating. Fuck, what do people wear to concerts? How was she supposed to pick out an outfit when she was too busy panicking about this boy in her house? "Just take Kenny downstairs, I'll be ready in a minute!"
"Oh, Kenny didn't want to be a bother so he just went back outside. He said he'd be waiting in his car for you, and that you can just text him if you're not up to going out tonight! He's a polite boy, isn't he? He always asks me how my day's going whenever I need to grab something from Hattie's."
Wendy gave a sigh of relief as she finished putting on the clothes she'd fished out of her closet, hopping on one leg as she pulled on a pair of black jeans. Okay, that may have been an annoying stunt Kenny had pulled, but at least the kid wasn't a total asshole. After lacing up her Docs, Wendy grabbed her phone from her desk and opened her bedroom door to find her mother still waiting outside.
"Oh, Wendy, there you are," she started before pausing abruptly at the sight of her daughter's outfit. In her haste to find something concert-appropriate, Wendy had pulled from her closet a ratty denim jacket from the last time she'd gone through a Wendell phase in high school. Underneath, she wore a t-shirt shirt she'd paid way too much for at a Paramore concert in the ninth grade. Considering they were heading to a Kerplunk concert, she'd figured it'd fit right in. Her hair, an unwashed mess, was still pushed to one side of her head, leaving her undercut completely exposed.
"Sweetheart," her mom began again, "I don't think I've ever disapproved of the way you dress, but... are you sure that's the appropriate attire for volunteering at senior bingo night? It's a bunch of old folks in the church basement, not a rock concert..."
Thaaaaat jerk. Wendy walked past her mom and headed towards the stairs. "Well, it gets warm down there; I'll probably lose the jacket."
"And are you going to do anything about your hair?" Her mother called after her as she began to descend the stairs.
"Nope."
Kenny grinned at Wendy as she climbed into his passenger seat. "Sup buzzcut!"
"You are such a shit head."
"Oh come on," Kenny said as he took the car out of park. "I waited like half an hour without hearing from you so I decided to see what was up. Why weren't you answering my texts?"
"Cause I fell asleep dude, chill."
"Rough time on my couch last night?"
"I'm not even sure when the last time I got a proper night's sleep was, honestly."
"Sounds like someone had a busy first week of school."
"Ha, I actually can't remember. The last couple days are a total blur; my brain must've checked out because I have like, zero memory of anything that happened before I sold that eighth to Jimmy Valmer."
"Eh, I wouldn't sweat it. I actually can't remember like, huge swaths of my childhood for some reason. In fact, there's a whole like, three-month period from when I was eleven where I can't remember anything that doesn't have to do with Eric Cartman."
"Sounds like someone was a little bi-curious."
"Yeah because he'd obviously be my first choice. Clyde was pretty cute before he lost all that baby fat, though. I mean, now that I think about it."
"Shame you never made a move, considering that thing he had for blondes."
"Well who could compete with Bebe's rack..."
After a twenty-minute drive, Kenny pulled into a space in the distant corner of South Park Lanes' parking lot and killed the engine. He undid his seatbelt and began to rustle around in his parka.
"One more thing," he turned to Wendy before finally pulling a joint from one of his pockets. "Before we go in?" Wendy was already over this boy's talent for making drugs seemingly materialize out of thin air.
"Shouldn't we save it for in there?" she asked, gesturing over her shoulder towards the venue. "Isn't there some drug dealer rule about not getting high on your own supply, or something."
But Kenny was already lighting the joint. "What? Oh, relax. We're not even selling green tonight."
"What? Then why are we here? Why'd we go to the locker earlier?"
Coughing out his first hit, Kenny reached into an inside pocket of his parka and tossed a little plastic bag with two small pills inside right into Wendy's lap.
Wendy recoiled as the bag dropped into her lap. "Oh my god, those are drugs! Like real drugs! You want me to sell real drugs?"
"No," Kenny held out the joint for her, "You want to sell real drugs! I can't seem to remember being the one who came up with this arrangement."
"I thought you just sold pot to dopey teenagers!" she replied, after taking a hit. Wendy picked up the bag after handing Kenny his joint back and looked inside. "I didn't know you sold...! You sold... You sold... Ugh, what is this anyway?"
"Ecstasy."
"Why didn't you tell me you sold ecstasy! What else do you sell!"
"I mean not too much," Kenny said as he passed her back the joint and started to count on his fingers. "Weed, ecstasy, molly, cough syrup, uh, 'scripts, 'psychedelics' when I get them every now and then."
"That's kind of a lotta stuff, dude."
"Yeah but I mean, it's not like I'm selling heroin or cooking meth or anything. That's where things get dicey."
"What do you mean?"
Kenny took the joint back from Wendy and took a hit. "Well, it's like you said, y'know? What I do, or what we do, I suppose, is deal with uh, dopey teenagers, and twenty-something stoners, and thirty-year old burn outs who can't get out of their parents' houses. Those are the kinds of people who smoke weed, who drink cough syrup, who take ecstasy when they head out to a show on the weekend.
"But when you start selling harder stuff, the people you gotta deal with are like, way different. I mean, nobody's gonna kill each other over a dimebag, but you wind up in the wrong crack house looking to make a deal and you can be in for some serious shit."
Wendy swallowed. Then she took a hit.
"Heroin's bad, but meth is the really dangerous one. You can get really fucked up selling meth. It's not just like, tweakers with knives either; you know how popular meth is up in North Park? With all those biker gangs that take over the bars at night. You go into a party to sell an eighth, maybe a drunk girl pukes on your shoes. You go into the wrong bar trying to sell meth and you get your arm broken."
"What about coke?" Wendy asked as Kenny passed her the joint.
"What?"
"Do you sell cocaine? You didn't mention it."
"I sold coke, once."
"One time?"
"Yeah, just once."
"Why just once?"
"It was kinda weird..."
"What happened?"
"Well I dunno, y'know? It was like, a year ago. I had wound up with some and I actually turned out to be visiting Token at school that weekend."
"You visited Yale!?"
"Let me tell the story. So I'm visiting Token, staying in his frat house, and he takes me to some parties, some like weird shit okay? Like these Ivy League kids party hard, and there's some stuff that I don't even wanna talk about. But of course, possessing the talents that I do, I was able to slowly unload my supply over the course of the night, to various interested parties, none of whom I shall name in the off-chance that one of them ends up being president someday."
"And that's why it was so weird? The parties that you won't even talk about."
"Well, no; the real weird part was when one guy from the first house we went to found me four hours later desperately in search of more blow."
"Oh boy."
"So I was doing who knows what at this last party, probably trying to get two coeds to tell me their dorm number or something. I was on so much stuff by that point that I can barely remember. But what I do remember is this guy, pulling me into a hallway and telling me that he needed another score, which you know, I didn't have at this point."
"Ohhhh boy."
"So he grabs me by my shirt and pulls me in close and I think this guy is ready to beat my ass, to rifle through my corpse's jacket and find the last of the blow that he was sure I was hiding from him."
"Well did he fuck you up?"
"No. He glanced down both ends of the hallway, and then he looked at me really nervous all of a sudden and then he said... 'I'll blow you for a bump.'"
"Jesus Christ."
"Cocaine's a hell of a drug."
Kenny took another hit from the joint they'd been passing back and forth.
"So what did you tell him?"
"What do you THINK I told him Wendy!"
"Right, right," the girl snickered.
"...So did he give good head?"
"Shut up."
"I'll blow you for a bump," she sneered at him. "Is that story even true?"
"Look Testaburger, I don't know what kind of drug dealer you're going to be, but this one doesn't trade bumps for blowies. I'll let you choose how you wanna play that game for yourself."
"How ever will I decide on my own."
"Guess we'll have to see if anybody offers to suck your dick for a bag of E tonight."
"Oh my god," Wendy moaned, "I'm selling ecstasy at a concert in South Park." She clenched her eyes shut tight. "What am I doing?"
She opened her eyes to see Kenny holding the joint out to her again.
"What you're not doing is helping me finish this, which you should be. The show's gonna start soon, c'mon we need to business smoke."
Wendy took the joint and inhaled a long hit, never breaking eye contact with Kenny as she reduced the remains to ash. Her eyes narrowed at the boy as she filled her lungs and dropped the tip into a travel mug sitting in the cup holder between them. "Let's do it," she spoke through smoke, getting out of the car and leaving Kenny to watch her go.
"I don't think I see a single empty parking space," Wendy observed as the two made their way across the parking lot to the venue."
"Apparently it's a sold-out show."
"Lemme guess, someone traded you a pair of tickets for an eighth or something?"
"Or something," Kenny winked as the two got into the line that was slowly making its way towards the front doors. "Anyways, listen, you're gonna be cool in here right? This is technically your first job and it's not exactly the ideal environment for a learning experience, but I figure a trial by fire might not be such a bad thing for you."
"Your confidence means a lot," Wendy sneered at him as she pulled out the fake ID she'd gotten in New York so the guy working the door could loop a brightly colored paper wristband around her wrist. Kenny did the same and followed the girl into the venue.
The sight inside South Park Lanes was unlike anything Wendy had seen before. The place was packed to the brim with teenage scene kids, all crowded towards the stage that had been set up in the middle of the cleared bowling lanes. The crowd bobbed along to the sound of an old Ramones song playing over the venue's PA as the teens watched the opening band begin to tune up their instruments onstage.
"Jeez," Wendy said as Kenny walked up next to her. "I had no idea there was still this big of a market for tween wave. Are any of these kids even tweens?"
"I don't think I see too many. Apparently tween wave is undergoing a bit of a revival now, though. Emo kids have totally co-opted the genre and even people our age apparently go to shows. Must be nostalgic or something."
Wendy looked over to the venue's bar to see that it was indeed crowded with twenty-somethings, as well as what even appeared to be a few older patrons. "Since when were you an expert on tween wave?" she asked Kenny.
"I talk to teenagers like all the time dude."
"Right, when you're selling them drugs."
"Exactly. Speaking of which: don't get distracted, we're here to work. You still have the stuff I gave you, yeah?" As they'd crossed the parking lot, Kenny had passed her about a dozen small bags, each of which contained two doses of ecstasy.
"No, I took it all while we were waiting on line. Feels awesome."
"Can you stop giving me shit for like five minutes so I can actually tell you how to sell this E."
"Yes, yes, I'm sorry."
"Alright so this is easy, right? You know how we got these wristbands at the door? If you're underage, you don't get one; instead, they sharpie an X on the back of your hand, so the bar knows you can't buy booze. You're gonna be looking for those kids; considering it's basically the whole audience, it should be like shooting fish in a barrel. Once you pick a potential customer, all you gotta do is go up to them and be like, 'hey, I noticed you have an X. I've got a wristband, wanna see it?" This kinda crowd will know what you're talking about, but every now and then you might get some puzzled looks or something. If you think you can actually negotiate a sale there, feel free; but there's like no shortage of people who are probably looking to buy here, so I wouldn't stress that too much."
"Hey, I noticed you have an X," Wendy mimicked. "I've got a wristband, you wanna see it? Easy. Okay, so what about people who already have wristbands?" she asked, gesturing towards the older crowd that had formed around the bar.
"You can leave those to me, it's usually a little harder to find a sale. The kids'll be easy. Just do it exactly like I said, and most importantly: stay cool and be careful. The Lanes has a few security guards that usually move through the crowds and check shit out every now and then. If you see one of them while you're in the middle of the sale, stop what you're doing and see if you can move things into the bathroom."
"Are you serious."
"Serial, even. I've never gotten busted selling at the Lanes before and I'm not about to just because my new partner makes a rookie mistake."
"Alright, alright, I'll be careful."
"Okay!" Kenny raised his voice as the opening act began amping up for their first song. "It looks like this first band is about to go on! The easiest time to sell shit is between songs, so here's hoping the frontman likes to talk! Now let's split up and meet back up by the bar when their set's over!"
"Got it!" Wendy yelled back with resolve.
"Don't let me down, Testaburger!" she could hear the boy shout to her as he disappeared into the crowd surrounding the bar. Turning toward the stage, Wendy made her way into the audience.
Wendy made her way through the crowd of scene kids as the opening act launched into their first song. The crowd began to move and sway as one as the audience started dancing, pushing Wendy back and forth amidst the sea of teens. Once she'd adapted to the chaos, Wendy began surveying the crowd, relieved to see that none of the kids in her vicinity seemed to be wearing a wristband. Now it was just a matter of choosing her first customer and waiting for the song to end.
Looking around the audience, Wendy spotted two girls who seemed to be just a few years younger than herself, both with glowing plastic bands around their neck and arms. Another quick glance was all Wendy needed to see that they they both had X's on the back of their hands. Perfect. Girls with glow sticks and shit usually did ecstasy, right? Oh well, she supposed she'd find out as she made her way through the crowd and the band finished playing their first song.
Okay, Wendy said to herself as the band's singer started to banter with the audience. Just remember what Kenny said. Be cool. You can do this, it'll be fine. Hey, I noticed you have an X. I've got a wristband, wanna see it? God, she couldn't tell if the joint she'd smoked in the car was calming her nerves or making her paranoid. Regardless, she doubted this was something she could actually do sober. Hey, I noticed you have an X. I've got a wristband, wanna see it? Fuck, there wasn't any security around was there? She didn't think she'd seen any, but… ugh, focus. I noticed you have an X. I've got a wristband, wanna see it? Hey, I noticed you have an X."
"Uh, can we help you?"
Oh shit, one of the girls had said something to her. When had she reached them? How long had she just been standing there in front of them, probably staring at them and looking like a crazy person? Jesus Christ, stop talking to yourself and say something!
"Uh! Hey! I don't have a wristband, can I see your X?"
What. The. Fuck. What had she just said? That was not what she was supposed to say. Why the fuck did she say that. God dammit. Fuck.
One of the girls side-eyed the other nervously. "Uh, do you know what she's talking about?" she asked her friend.
The other girl rolled her eyes. "She's looking for E, it's like a 'drug code' or whatever. We don't have any," she told Wendy. "There's usually a guy who sells them at these shows, though; he always wears this orange jacket. We're actually looking for him, soooo..."
Wendy hoped she wasn't grinning like a lunatic. "Because you're trying to buyyyy...?"
"Duh."
"What the fuck, don't tell her that! She could be a narc!"
"Oh my God, this isn't 21 fucking Jump Street, Liz."
"You don't think cops actually fucking do that?"
"Yeah, I'm so fucking sure our bumfuck town's excuse for a police force is secretly training an elite team of undercover cops who can pass for teenagers."
"You're honestly such a fucking-"
"I can sell you E!"
The two girls stopped bickering and turned their attention back to Wendy.
Approximately ninety seconds later, she'd completed her first real drug deal. Maybe a bit of a rocky start, but... not too shabby, Testaburger.
"Uh, beers, please, two," Kenny held up two fingers as he took a seat at the bowling alley bar. Fishing the wad of cash he'd recently acquired out of his coat pocket, he pulled out enough bills to pay for the drinks and put them down on the bar in front of him; only for someone behind him to reach around and drop a large stack of cash right on top.
"Sup," Wendy said as he turned to face her. "Can I buy you a drink?"
"Dude." Kenny turned back to the bar and picked up the cash in a hurry, hoping that no one else had seen the suspiciously large sum of money Wendy had dropped in front of him. He started discretely leafing through the bills. "Oh man, did you sell all of it?"
Wendy laughed. "Of course." Of course. "Did you get rid of everything you had?"
"Yeah, a few people at the bar weren't buying but I unloaded the rest of what I had on a few kids in the bathroom." Noticing that the beers he'd ordered had arrived, Kenny picked up the two bottles and handed one to Wendy before raising his own for a toast.
"These are still on you, right?"
Wendy clinked her bottle against Kenny's. "Ha, why not. I think this is the best I've felt in weeks."
Kenny grinned at her, deciding to pop the question that had been lurking in the back of his mind all night. "Are you interested in feeling even better?"
"What, do you have another joint?"
"Not exactly..."
It took Wendy a second to realize what the boy was implying.
"You didn't sell all your E."
"I have one bag left."
"Which is two pills."
"Yeah."
Kenny and Wendy both took long swigs of beer, awkwardly avoiding each other's gaze.
"Ugh okay let's do it." The words rushed out of Wendy's mouth, as if she was worried that they wouldn't get out if she hadn't expelled them so forcefully.
"For real?"
"Yes yes yes gimme one before I change my mind."
Kenny scrambled to get the plastic bag open, tearing into it and handing it to Wendy. She looked at him and he looked back at her as they both popped the pills into their mouths and swallowed them with a chug of beer.
"I cannot fucking believe I just did that."
"I can't fucking believe you just did that either."
"I'm just fulla surprises, huh?" Wendy laughed nervously. "So when should we start feeling this?"
"It shouldn't be too long," Kenny answered as the two leaned back against the bar. "You'll know when it kicks in, trust me."
"Well, how?"
"I dunno. You'll probably wanna dance."
Wendy snorted. "Oh please. That's so dumb."
"Hey dude, I don't make the rules."
Fifteen minutes later, Kerplunk took to the stage. Kenny still wasn't feeling the effects of the pill he'd taken, but looking over at Wendy, he could tell that the girl seemed a little more jittery than usual. Maybe it was just post-drug deal adrenaline, but Kenny was pretty sure that the girl was about to experience being high on ecstasy for the first time. Waiting for his own dose to kick in, Kenny was just glad he was able to be there for it.
"Hey everybody," Kerplunk's lead singer spoke into the microphone, his mouth just a little too close. "We're Kerplunk..." – cue a whole crowd of scene kids going absolutely ape-shit – "and it's great to be back here in South Park, Colorado." More cheers. "This first song's about getting high."
Kenny and Wendy looked at each other.
"ONE TWO THREE FOUR!" the band's drummer shouted before Kerplunk tore into the opening song of their set, which Kenny vaguely remembered liking in the sixth grade.
"Ya know, I gotta be honest with you for a second!" Wendy shouted over the music.
"What's up!"
"I fucking loved this song when I was a kid!"
Kenny laughed. "Oh really!"
"Yeah this was my jam! Do you wanna dance? I wanna dance!"
Ha. "I thought you said that sounded dumb!"
"Yeah dude! When I wasn't high on ecstasy! Right now dancing to a shitty tween wave band I liked when I was 12 years old sounds like it would make me happier than I've ever been in my entire life! Although I kind of already am! I'm gonna go dance, come with me!"
With that, Wendy turned around and ran into the crowd of dancing teenagers. After a moment's pause, Kenny put his beer down on the bar behind him and chased after her.
The crowd that had formed around the stage in the middle of the bowling alley had descended into utter chaos. Sweaty bodies pushed against each other as the crowd moved like a wave, rocking back and forth to the fast tempo of the band's music. Kenny didn't catch up with Wendy until she'd managed to make her way into the center of the crowd, swaying and jumping and dancing along with everyone else in the audience. Kenny was just about to reach her when the band swiftly transitioned into their second song and the audience swallowed her back up.
The smile Kenny had seen on the girl's face before she disappeared back into the crowd was all the reason he needed to go in after her.
Kenny practically had to fight his way through the audience, guided only by a vague idea of where Wendy had gone. But then the crowd shifted again and there she was. As happy and as full of life as he'd ever seen her. The band's song soared to a different key and the bodies around them pushed them towards each other. Kenny felt like a star was exploding inside of him as their bodies met.
Wendy gripped onto Kenny's parka and pulled him in closer as their bodies moved back and forth with the crowd. "I was afraid I lost you!"
"I know!" was all he could think to yell back.
Wendy laughed, like she knew what a difficult time he was having forming words, or thoughts, or focusing on anything but the girl who was so close to him, or even believing he was there, or
Wendy took advantage of Kenny's momentary lapse in presence to tug the hood of his parka over his head and pull his face in closer to her own, until they were only inches apart.
"You always wear this thing!" she practically giggled in his face, as if it had never occurred to her before.
"It makes me feel safe!" he shouted back. He had never actually told anyone that, but in that moment he felt like sharing everything with her.
Wendy still hadn't let go of his hood. "I like that! Can I try it on!"
"What!"
Before Kenny could say anything else Wendy had somehow managed to tug off his parka and quickly donned it herself, pulling it on over her denim jacket. It was about two sizes too big for her, but she seemed overjoyed to be wearing it. Kenny watched as his coat's hood bounced on and off of Wendy's head as they danced close together, his parka's sleeves waving around, too long for the girl wearing it. The band played song after song and Kenny felt electricity run through his body every time he and Wendy touched.
Wendy danced for so long without stopping that by the time Kerplunk finally decided to retune their instruments in between songs, she looked like she was ready to fall over. "This is fucking great!" she yelled at him regardless. "I'm so thirsty though! I'm gonna go get some water!"
"I'll come with!" Kenny shouted, but she was already gone; and before Kenny could follow her, he felt a hand grip him by the shoulder. Turning around, he saw a large man dressed in all black, a security badge pinned to his shirt. His other hand held someone else by the shoulder: a teenage boy with a look on his face that said "I just got busted for doing ecstasy and they made me tell them where I got it."
Fuck.
Wendy couldn't believe how good she felt as she pushed through the crowd back towards the bar. Literally the only thing wrong with her life was that she didn't currently have a bottle of water. All of her other problems had simply disappeared. Although, now that she noticed it, so had Kenny. Wendy turned around just in time to catch a glimpse of him on the other side of the crowd, being pulled behind a door at the side of the stage by what was clearly a security guard.
Fuck.
Wendy's mind began racing at a million miles per second. What was she going to do? Kenny had gotten caught. Oh god, what if it was her fault? What if he gave her up? No, he wouldn't do that. Fuck, fuck, fuck, what was she going to do? She couldn't just leave him. He could be in some serious trouble. Ugh but how could she possibly get him out of this? Think girl, think. God, this would probably be so much easier if she wasn't high on ecstasy. Fuck. Shit. What was she going to do? What was she going to do?
Then it came to her.
Wendy dug into the pockets of Kenny's parka to find the cash he'd stored inside. Running up to the bar, she waved a few dollars in the air.
"I need a beer! I need a beer!" she shouted.
Fortunately, she was able to get the attention of one of the girls working behind the bar. "What kind!" she yelled at Wendy over the band.
"It doesn't even matter! Just, just, fast!"
Wendy was in too much of a hurry to even notice what brand of beer she'd been handed. Not that it mattered anyway; as soon as it was in her hand, she dashed over to the darkest corner of the venue she could find. While everyone else in the place was watching the band, Wendy shut her eyes, raised the bottle over her head, and began to pour the beer all over herself.
"Uuggggghhhh..." she cringed as she felt it wet her already dirty hair. Wendy brought her hands to her face and began rubbing her eyes until they were red and puffy. She pulled her phone out of her denim jacket and checked her appearance in the front-facing camera. She was a total mess – her face so wet and her eyes so red that she could have been crying. She knew she must have reeked of booze as well. Okay. Perfect.
Wendy turned her attention back to the door at the side of the stage just in time to see the security guard reemerge. This was her chance. Navigating around the audience, she made her way in his direction as quickly as she could. As she approached, she screwed her face up and fell into him, clutching his shirt as if to keep herself up.
"Oh my god!" She pretended to cry. "I'm sorry! Wait wait! Do you work here can you help me? I can't find my friends and I lost my phone and I've had so much to drink, I can't find them, I don't know what to do!"
Wendy clutched the security guard's shirt and pretend to sob into it, trying to summon as many real tears as she could. She looked up at the large man, hoping he could see how wet her face was, only to be met by a glare that said "great, this is exactly what I need tonight."
"Okay, okay," he said, politely yet begrudgingly shoving her away from him. "We have a phone in the back, you can use it to call someone."
"Oh my god thank you so much," Wendy continued to cry at him. "Can you take me to it now I wanna go home so bad please I just wanna go home please please please."
The guard sighed. "Yeah, okay, come on."
Kenny sat in the back room the security guard had dragged him into, a pair of handcuffs linking his wrist to the table. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. The only thing he could possibly hope might save him was the fact that he didn't have the cash. Without that, what could they prove, right? Good thing Wendy had taken his parka.
God, Wendy. At least they hadn't gotten her. That was what he was most thankful for. If Kenny had gotten Wendy busted for dealing drugs, whether it was her first deal or her hundredth, he could never forgive himself. He breathed a sigh of relief as he took solace in the fact that she was safe.
Unfortunately, that was when the door opened and the security guard who'd roughed him up brought Wendy into the room. Kenny's stomach dropped.
"Okay, you can use the phone, but don't talk to this one," the security guard told her before turning back to Kenny. "We've been trying to find who's been selling through this place for months now."
Wait, what was going on? Kenny's eyes darted to try and make contact with Wendy's as the girl walked towards the phone the guard had pointed to, but she didn't look at him. After the guard had turned his attention back to Kenny, however, Wendy quietly stopped walking towards the phone and began to creep back to the guard. Wide eyed, she bit her bottom lip as she tip-toed up behind his back.
"Honestly, you should be ashamed of yourself," the guard sneered at Kenny. "Selling drugs to teenagers at a bowling alley? Do you have any idea how fucking pathet-"
Kenny recoiled as Wendy smashed a beer bottle over the security guard's head. Holy shit, she must have had it concealed up his parka's sleeve. It shattered into tiny pieces as the guard groaned and fell forward, landing on the ground with a thud. His body was still.
Kenny and Wendy stared at each other in shock.
"Get his keys, get his keys!" Kenny hissed at her after a few moments of silence.
"Right! Right!" Wendy ducked down and started to unfasten the guard's keys from his belt. "Oh thank fucking god he's still breathing."
"I'm glad you didn't murder a security guard but we really need to go!"
"I'm going as fast as I can!" Wendy fumbled with the keys, trying to find the one that fit into the lock to Kenny's handcuffs. Finally finding it, she slipped it inside and freed the boy's hand.
"Okay! Kenny exclaimed as he shot up from his chair, rubbing his wrist. "Okay we need to get out of here like now. What are you doing?"
Wendy had taken the handcuffs and used them to lock the unconscious security guard to the table. Taking the walkie-talkie from his belt, she threw it into the far corner of the room, along with the keys to the handcuffs.
"Okay! Now we can go!" Taking Kenny's hand, Wendy pulled him through the door and back out into the bowling alley. They ran so fast that it was only moments before they were back outside, making a beeline for Kenny's car. Once they reached it, they climbed inside and sped out of the parking lot. They were both silent, still too shaken by what had felt like a near-death experience to even utter a single word.
"So how bad is this," Wendy finally spoke, once her heart had finally stopped racing.
"Not too bad," Kenny tried to reassure her, or himself. He couldn't tell which. "Totally not too bad. It'll be fine. They didn't get my ID. I just can't sell at the lanes anymore."
"You mean we can't sell at the lanes anymore. I kinda shattered a bottle over a security guard's head tonight."
"Which was one of the raddest things I've ever seen by the way. Why do you smell like beer though?"
Wendy slid back in her seat. "I'll tell you in the morning, dude," she yawned. "Ugh, I am like crashing. Can I rest my head on your shoulder in like, a totally platonic way."
Kenny laughed. "Of course."
"You rock."
And so Kenny found himself driving through South Park in silence, Wendy still wrapped in his parka, falling asleep with her head leaning against his shoulder for the second night in a row. Things were a little different now, though, he thought as he glanced over at the buzzed portion of the girl's head.
"Hey," he whispered to her once he was sure she'd fallen asleep. "Y'know... I was Mysterion."
After a few moments of silence, Wendy whispered back.
"I know."
