I pulled my fist back and grabbed it with my other hand. My knuckles stung, but I guess this is how it always is. If you hurt someone, you hurt yourself, too. They taught us something like that in physics class. That every action has an equal and opposite reaction.
Right after I hit him, he grabbed his nose. It had started bleeding. I could see the red trickling through his fingers. He let out a small chuckle. "I guess I deserve that," he said quietly.
I didn't know what to do. I spun around and started walking back to my car. I had completely forgotten about visiting Cartman's grave. It was so far from my mind. It was embarrassing how quickly Cartman's memory was no longer in my thoughts.
"Wait," he called after me. "Stan, stop. Come on. I need to talk to you."
"Well, I don't have anything to say to you!" I yelled back, more and more furious by the moment. I heard his footsteps coming after me. I walked faster. I wasn't interested in anything he had to say. Not now, not ever. I had spent so long believing that he was dead that he may as well be. I didn't want to hear his excuses.
"Stan, come back, let me explain," he said, his voice sounding more desperate and broken than I'd ever heard it before. It hurt me to hear him like that. It hurt so much that I almost turned around.
But I didn't. I got in my car and I drove away. I drove straight to Kenny's house and banged hard on the door. I kept knocking until he opened the door.
"Dude, what the fuck is your problem?" he said, rubbing his eyes and glaring at me.
"Let's go somewhere!" I replied, trying to force excitement and happiness into my voice. I just ended up sounded manic and pleading.
He frowned, clearly confused. "Okay, where?"
I smiled, relieved. Kenny was the only person I knew who would do this. Who would drop everything and not question it when he saw that someone needed him. That part of him never ceased to amaze me. The way he could sense when someone needed him, and he would just do it, without a second thought. I'd never met anyone as selfless as him, or anyone so unaware of their selflessness, because to them, it comes automatically.
"Anywhere," I said. "Where do you want to go?"
He laughed. "California."
"Okay, let's go there!" I said, grabbing his wrist.
"Dude, we're not going to California," he replied, rolling his eyes. "We have lives. You're moving in two days. You have a job."
"Fuck the job. I have to get out of here." I started pulling him to the car and he pulled his wrist away.
"Dude," he said, grabbing my shoulders. "What's up?"
I opened my mouth but I couldn't bring myself to answer. I just stared at him.
He dropped his arms to his side and sighed. "Do you want to go to Stark's Pond?"
"No!" I replied, too quickly, too urgently. He looked taken aback. Out of habit, I pinched the bridge of my nose, but then I instantly regretted it.
"What happened to your hand?" Kenny asked, staring at my knuckles. He reached his hand out to touch them.
I pulled my hand back quickly, automatically. "Nothing. I punched someone. It's not important."
"Seriously, what's going on?" he asked, lowering his voice. I could hear the concern in his voice and I could see it stamped across his face.
I looked at the ground. I couldn't look him in the eye right now. "He's back," I said quietly.
"What? Who? Cartman?" he replied.
I couldn't help but wince a little. He sounded cautiously hopeful, like maybe Cartman could come back to life. It made me think that maybe that was how he was always so okay, so calm. Maybe he always had that sliver of hope, because he'd always had a shaky grip on reality, an overactive imagination. Maybe he really believed, somewhere within him, that coming back to life was possible. "No," I answered. "Kyle."
I watched as Kenny stiffened, his shoulders tensing. His face showed no emotion. "Oh," he replied, his voice cold and empty.
"I saw him at Cartman's grave," I said, mostly mumbling.
Kenny started laughing, an open, happy laugh, as though he was not full of ice a moment ago. "And your first response was to punch him?"
I chuckled. "I guess so."
Kenny laughed harder, leaning against the fence. When he caught his breath again, he smiled, an animated, Kenny smile. "So where did you want to go?"
I stared at him. How was he so unfazed? Kyle coming back shook me, made me want to abandon South Park even more. How was Kenny okay?
He must've seen my blank, confused look, because he sighed. "Look, Stan. Life didn't end just because Kyle left. So life doesn't end just because he comes back. The guy doesn't get to dictate how everyone feels. So, I ask again, where do you want to go?"
"Aren't you at least curious why he left? Or why he's back? Are you at least mad or something? Come on, you can't feel nothing," I said, suddenly a little pissed that I was the only one in a panic right now. First Kyle was all cool and collected, now Kenny, too? Why was I the only one here freaking out?
Kenny shrugged. "He left. That's all I need to know. I'm not in the habit of caring about people who don't care about me."
I studied his expression, which was remarkably neutral. I knew he was lying. He'd been in that exact habit his whole life. He spent years caring about his parents, who were barely ever sober enough to notice him. He spent years caring about his brother, who routinely took out his anger on Kenny. He has spent his whole life caring about everyone, putting everyone else before himself. I decided not to comment on this particular lie.
"Do you remember that one day, when the four of us went to the amusement park? We were about twelve, I think," Kenny said, his voice distant.
"Yeah, Kyle and I rode that roller coaster that went upside-down. That was a fun day," I replied.
Kenny shook his head. "No. That's just how you remember it. About half an hour after we got there, Cartman went off to sulk, and then not long after, Kyle disappeared. You were so stressed out, you kept saying we should go looking for him. I calmed you down for a while, and we went on a few rides and had lunch. Then we went all over the park, looking for Kyle, and you were close to tears. We found him a couple hours later, reading under a tree. He was confused, convinced it hadn't been that long. Then, right after that, you guys went on that roller coaster while I babysat Cartman."
I couldn't answer. I barely remembered any of that, only vague, blurry images.
"What's your point?" I asked.
He shook his head again. "No point, I guess. Not really, anyway." He let out a sigh and smiled. "So did you still want to go somewhere?"
"No, I think I just needed to calm down," I replied. "I'll probably just head home, make sure all my things are in order."
"Okay. Well, do you want to grab dinner at the pizza place tonight? Then maybe go to the bars?"
"Sure," I said. "I'll meet you there."
I turned away and headed back home.