[Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or any of its characters...unfortunately :) This story is purely for entertainment purposes.]

A/N: Sooooo I know I said that there would be only be one chapter left, but there's just so much drama that I had to make the finale a two-parter. Part 2 of "This Party Sucks Ass" will be published shortly, so make sure you have your notifications turned on. Hope you enjoy this chapter!


The next day, I wake up to thirty texts from Bebe. I wish I were joking. I just toss my phone on the floor and turn over in my bed to face the wall.

I left school early yesterday; after everything that happened in the bathroom, the idea of sitting in class surrounded by the likes of people like Stan and Craig nauseated me. Not to mention Cartman…

By now, there's no doubt in my mind that everyone at school knows about Stan and me. And, worse than that, based on the volume of Stan's voice alone, I'm sure everyone in town thinks I'm sleeping with Craig. I groan and bury my head in my pillow.

I contemplate suffocating myself and ending it all right then and there, when something dawns on me: I'm Wendy Testaburger. I'm a strong, smart, and newly single woman. I can deal with this shit. This is nothing.

Jumping out of bed, I grab a pen and notepad and take a seat at my desk. There's only one way to tackle a situation like this: make a flowchart. I embrace my inner organizational goddess and pull out my colored markers and a ruler, for good measure. Soon I have a neat T chart, with one column listing the names of people I don't want to talk to, and the second column labeled "Solutions." With a crack of my knuckles, I dive in.

First, Bebe. My best friend. I think I'll leave that one blank for now.

On to Stan. That one's easy; in the second column, I write "Ignore." That doesn't seem like a sustainable solution, but for now, that's all I can do. For Kyle, I write the same thing.

Next, Craig. Oh, I'm going to murder him. Since I can't legally do that, I write "Revenge." I'll figure out that one later. Kenny gets the same treatment.

That leaves Cartman. I stare vacantly at the page for several minutes. What do I want to do about Cartman? I sigh and turn to a fresh page in my notebook, where I begin building another list, titled "Potential Plans for Dealing with Cartman."

One, I could do nothing. Even though that's the safest solution, it definitely doesn't seem like a great idea, judging by the tightness in my chest whenever I see him.

Two, I could tell him that I know he wrote the letter, and leave it at that. That doesn't seem useful, either, since there's no chance he would ever go out of his way to tell me he likes me, especially if he doesn't think I like him back.

But that's the thing: do I even want him to tell me that he likes me? If he does, would we start dating? The notion of going out on a date with Cartman seems so absurd that it makes me giggle. Unfortunately, no matter how absurd, this is the situation I'm in. If I really like Cartman, and I find out he likes me back, would I be able to date other people, or potentially handle watching him date other people? I giggle again. The thought of Cartman on dates with other girls is similarly absurd.

"Wendy, honey?"

Crap. My mom is at my bedroom door. She's probably wondering why I'm still holed up in my room in the middle of the afternoon. "Yeah, mom?"

"Bebe's here to see you."

Great, just what I need. I contemplate asking my mom to send her away, but knowing my mom, that wouldn't be an acceptable response. "Okay," I say with resignation, getting up from my desk. "Tell her she can come in."

A few moments later, the door opens, and Bebe rushes in. "Wendy! Omigod! I thought you might be dead or something!"

I sit down on the edge of my bed. "Nope. Still alive." She stares at me, as if she expects me to run into her arms and start weeping over Stan. "What do you want?"

Upon hearing the lack of emotion in my tone, she frowns, and sits next to me. "I wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn't see you at school yesterday after we talked, and then I heard what happened with Stan, so…"

She tries to hug me, but I inch away. I only want to know one thing. "Did you know?" I demand.

"About what?" she asks, obviously confused by my behavior. "About you and Stan?"

"About Kyle and Stan."

She looks more confused than ever. "What do you mean?"

"Kyle and Stan," I repeat, my pitch rising. "They're together."

Bebe's mouth twists into a look of repulsion. "Jesus Christ, that was fast."

"No," I say impatiently. "They were sleeping together while Stan and I were together."

"What?!" Her eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. "Are you saying they fucked?"

"Yes."

"Like, Stan lost his virginity to Kyle? Behind your back?"

"Yes."

Her nostrils flare. "I'm going to fucking kill him."

I look deep into her eyes, trying as hard as I can to read her thoughts. "You're saying you didn't know that Stan was cheating on me? Kenny never told you?"

"Nuh-uh," she snorts. "I don't know if Kenny knows, but even if he does, we don't gossip about our friends like that."

"Oh, sure," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "So you didn't tell him about my monogrammed underwear, huh?"

She squints at me. "Um, I'm sure I did at some point, but, like, so what? Your mom wanted to monogram all your underwear. That's not something personal. It's just a funny story. I've told lots of people about that."

Now I'm confused. "What about my nipple? Or the freckle on my butt? Are those just funny stories, too?"

"Wendy, what are you talking about? I've never told anyone about that kind of stuff. I'm your best friend."

"Then…" My voice falters. "How did Craig know all of that?"

"Know all of what?"

"Bebe… Craig told Stan that I was cheating on him." As I recount what happened, tears start falling down my cheeks. "Craig sent Stan all these personal details about me. That's why Stan and I were arguing in the first place. He believed Craig over me."

At this point, I'm full-on crying. Bebe tries to hug me again, and this time I let her. "Shhh, it'll be okay, Wenz. It's actually good that it happened. Do you really want to be with someone who's cheating on you?"

I sniff and shake my head. "No."

She rubs my bad. "It sounds like Stan was using the whole Craig thing as a defense, y'know? So he wouldn't look like the bad guy. If he could convince himself that you were cheating on him, then he wouldn't feel as bad about cheating on you, right? And he would have an excuse to break up with you."

That makes a lot of sense. "Bebe," I say, smiling through my tears, "people think you're an airhead, but I don't think they give you enough credit. You're a genius sometimes."

"I know." She shrugs and smiles back. "You read books. I read people. We're just two different kinds of geniuses, y'know?"

"I know." We hug for a long time, my head nestled into her curly hair.

Once she removes her arms from around me, she has a funny look on her face. "Did Craig do all that stuff because I'm going to the party with Kenny?"

"I think so."

"Ugh!" She buries her face in her hands. "It's all my fault."

"No, it's not." It's my turn to comfort her. "It's not your fault that Craig is so immature that he would go to such lengths to get back at me. You had every right to choose someone you actually like to take you to Token's party."

"I guess." She stands up and starts pacing. "But how did Craig know those things about you? Because I didn't tell anyone, I swear! Could you have told anyone else?"

"No. The only people I tell that kind of stuff to are you and Stan. And my diary, but—" I freeze. "Oh. My. God. My diary!" I run across the room and start rifling through my sock drawer, right below my underwear drawer. I dig around past tights and boxes of Oreos, but I can't find it anywhere. I whip around to face Bebe. "Kenny gave Craig my diary."

"Huh?"

Now I'm pacing. "Remember when Kenny came to my house on Monday to return my book? Well, he went upstairs without me and took my monogrammed underwear, so Craig could use it as leverage to get a date with you."

Bebe's mouth hardens into a flat line. "Kenny did that?"

"Yes. And he must have taken my diary, too! I don't write in it all the time so I never noticed it was missing!"

"You're telling me that the guy I'm dating stole my best friend's diary and gave it to his weed dealer to use to break up my friend's relationship?"

I nod. "Yeah. That just about covers it."

"What a fucking loser," Bebe exclaims, flopping down on my bed. "God! And to think I'm in love with him!"

"Bebe, don't let my stupid drama ruin what you have with Kenny. You're so happy with him."

She sighs. "I don't know. I'll go to the party with him tonight and test the waters. Who knows, maybe I'll end up dumping his ass." Suddenly, she sits up. "The party! Wendy! You're not thinking of skipping it, are you?"

"What possible reason would I have to go to the party? Everyone's just going to laugh at me. I'm the girl who just got dumped by one of the most popular guys at school, and for a dude." The whole thing is so ridiculous that I can't help but laugh.

But Bebe looks serious. "Wenz, you have to go to the party. If you show up looking like a boss-ass bitch, single and ready to mingle, they won't have any power over you." She walks over to my closet and pulls out the green velvet dress she loves so much. "And I bet if you show up in this little number, the boys will be all over you. Maybe you'll even snag a senior."

I run the scenario in my head…in slow motion, of course: I walk into the room, and all eyes are on me. I see Stan. He gasps at my sheer beauty and drops his drink all over the floor— Uh, no. That's not even close to reality.

"I don't know, Bebe," I say, taking the dress from her. "I don't think that's going to happen."

"Yes it will," she says firmly. "You're going to look like a fucking badass. Trust me."

"Okay." I smile at her enthusiasm. "But remember what I said before. No make-up."

She places her hands on my cheeks. "You're beautiful, Wenz. You don't need any make-up." She purses her lips. "Maybe just a little to cover those bags under your eyes—"

"Bebe!"

"I'm kidding!" She rubs the velvet dress between her fingers. "Hey, do you want me to go to the party with you? I really don't need to go with Kenny if you don't want to go alone—"

"I'm not going alone," I interject. Shit, that's not what I meant.

"You're not?"

"No, I am… I just have someone I need to talk to when I get there."

"Cartman?"

I blink. "How the hell did you know that?"

She laughs. "I'm not blind. I saw how you were looking at him during the sled race. Besides, why else would you cuddle with Cartman? Even his mom probably wouldn't go near him with a ten-foot pole."

"Wow." I laugh, too. "Good detective work. Does that mean you're not horribly disgusted by the fact that I like Cartman?"

"Disgusted? Yes. Also confused, very confused. But hey, I thought Stan was a nice guy, and he turned out to be a flaming pile of actual shit. So apparently my douchebag radar can't be trusted. Cartman could be the sweetest guy, for all I know. …Eck. Sorry, I just gagged a little."

I whack her on the shoulder. "So much for being supportive!"

She holds up her hands in defense. "If you can show me one good thing about Cartman, maybe I'll be a little more supportive."

I think about this for a moment. "He's good to cuddle with—"

"—because he's so fat?" she finishes. "Not sure if that's such a good thing."

I roll my eyes. "I was going to say he's warm, for your information."

"Well, for your information, I think you could do a lot better than Cartman." She leans in closely. "Word around school is that Clyde Donovan has a thing for you. I know he's a fuckboy, but he's pretty cute. Maybe you could talk to him at the party instead."

"Gross!" I whack her again. "I hope the word around school is wrong."

"What can I say, Wenz? You're a fox and you don't even know it." Suddenly, her phone buzzes. She checks it. "Ugh, my parents. I gotta go. Come by my house in a few hours, before the party, okay? I'll help you get all dolled up."

After she's gone, I grab the green dress from the closet and put it on. Wow, I say to myself. You are a fox. Somehow, against all the laws of physics, this dress makes my square-ish frame look somewhat…womanly. It lifts my boobs, sucks in my waist, and skims my butt nicely. I grin, feeling a newfound rush of confidence. I don't need Stan's affection to make me feel desirable. I'm going to go out tonight and catch the man I want, all on my own. "I'm Wendy Testaburger," I whisper to the mirror. "I'm Wendy fucking Testaburger. I can do this."

Six hours later, I'm standing in front of Token's house. It's massive. I had to walk through a gate, past a security guard, and down a long cobblestone driveway, but now I'm here, right in front of the door. Judging by the amount of noise emanating from the building, it seems like most people have already arrived. I toss my hair over my shoulder, smooth down the velvet skirt of my dress, and adjust the zipper on my ankle boot. Okay. I'm ready.

As soon as I turn the knob on the door, I can feel someone opening it for me from the inside. It's a butler. He bows his head slightly and offers to take my coat. Damn, Token. This party is the real deal.

I haven't been to Token's house in a while, but I definitely didn't forget the sheer size and grandeur of his living room. The place is pretty packed, so hardly anyone notices my presence. I'm grateful for that; I just want to locate Cartman before I bump into—

"Wow."

—Stan. Before I bump into Stan. But, of course, I just did.

He's so close to me, I can almost touch him. My instinct is to lean over and kiss his cheek, and I have to remind myself that I can't do that anymore. That's Kyle's job now.

Stan stares at me as if I'm a complete stranger. "You look… I've just never seen you with make-up before… And that dress is…"

I don't wait to hear the rest. To be honest, I really couldn't care less what he has to say. I just keep walking, scanning the crowd for Cartman.

After searching the living room and the kitchen, I head upstairs. As soon as I reach the top of the steps, the sound of Cartman's booming laugh drifts down the hall. I follow the laughter into a wood-paneled study, where Cartman and Clyde are looking out an open window, pointing and giggling at something outside.

"What are you doing?" I ask, walking over to them.

Even with his back turned to me, I can see Cartman's shoulders fall a little. "Oh boy. Here comes Windy, the fun police."

Clyde turns around. As soon as his eyes land on me, they move straight to my more-noticeable-than-average cleavage. "Nice."

Cartman swivels to see me standing there. His face sports a look of disgust. "Shut up, Clyde."

"What? I'm just giving her a compliment." He sidles up to me. "Nothing wrong with that, right? Especially since you and Stan are dunzo."

I reflexively fold my arms to cover my chest. "Thanks, but I don't need your compliments, if you could even call them that." But Clyde doesn't move. He just keeps smiling at me like a total douche. I slide away from him and peer out the window. Butters and Red are making out in the backyard. "Are you guys just being perverts and watching them kiss?"

"Oh, no," Cartman says with a chuckle. "We're doing something way more fun than that." He grabs some pencils from the big desk in the center of the room and tosses one out the window. It hit the top of Butters' head.

"Ow!" Butters yelps. His head tilts upwards, and Cartman and Clyde quickly crouch down. Butters sees me standing alone at the window and frowns. "Wendy? I know you're probably upset about Stan, but c-could you please stop keep throwing pencils at me?"

"It wasn't—"

"Hey!" Cartman hisses. "Don't blow this!"

I'm about to correct Butters, but I realize I should probably get on Cartman's good side. "You're right, Butters," I yell back, rolling my eyes. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." He rubs his head. "I'm sorry, too. About Stan, I mean."

"Don't be."

Clyde and Cartman stand back up. Cartman keeps throwing pencils at Butters, but Clyde just looks at me awkwardly. "What a buzzkill," he says.

"Wow, Captain Obvious," Cartman mutters. "What a great observation."

Clyde frowns. "I don't need to take this shit." He leaves the room, but not without sneaking one last peek at my boobs.

"Okay, I'm going inside!" I can hear Butters yell from down below. "Are you happy now, Wendy? Jeez Louise."

Cartman snickers from his position on the floor. "Sweet." He stands up again and brushes himself off.

I look around and realize that I'm finally alone with Cartman. This is my chance. I take a deep breath. You got this, I tell myself. You're Wendy Testaburger.

Just as Cartman is about to leave, I place a hand on his arm. "Cartman, wait… I need to talk to you about something."

"What is it?" he asks impatiently, crossing his arms.

I take another big breath for good measure. I need to get this out quick, before I chicken out. "Cartman-I-know-you-wrote-the-letter."

He visibly tenses. "What."

"I know you wrote the letter. The love letter, the one you put in my locker. I figured out that it was you. I know you wanted to remain anonymous, but I needed to tell you that I found out." At this point, I'm just babbling. I try to tell my mouth to stop moving, but it doesn't. "And I know you said that you didn't want anything to come out of the letter, that you didn't want a relationship or anything, but I want to know if you actually do want something more. I thought you wouldn't tell me how you really feel unless I brought it up, so here I am." I'm still fucking talking. Stop talking. Stop. Stop. Stop.

In an effort to shut myself up, my brain short-circuits. Before I comprehend what's going on, my body flies forward, and my lips collide with Cartman's.

They stay that way for all of three seconds, until Cartman abruptly steps back. He looks mortified. "What the fuck are you doing?"

I look down at my feet. "I…I'm sorry."

"What the fuck! Motherfucker!" He spits, like he's trying to rid his mouth of my taste. "What's wrong with you?!"

As he yells at me, I start to feel my blood boil. "What's wrong with you, asshole?" I yell back, jabbing my pointer fingers at him accusatorily. "You're the one who wrote me a love letter!"

"I DIDN'T WRITE IT FOR YOU!" he screams. "I WROTE IT FOR FUCKING KAHL!"

My arms drop to my sides. "Are you kidding me?" Cartman's face has turned ashen. He slaps his hands over his mouth. "Answer me, Cartman. Are you kidding me? Why would you write a love letter for Kyle and put it in my locker?"

He backs away. "I-I-I didn't know that was your locker. Your locker is next to his. I-I mixed them up somehow."

So that was it. The letter wasn't for me. It was for Kyle. I'm getting rejected for Kyle—again.


And the twists just keep on coming, folks! Badass Wendy! Redemption for Bebe! And Cartman loves Kyle?! Let me know your thoughts about all this drama in the review section, and watch out for part 2 of this chapter, coming out soon!

xoxo,
FonicsMonkey