Weekends were always tough for Kenny. While many of his peers spent their weekends relaxing and socializing, his were all business. He always allowed himself to sleep in on the weekends, though. He'd wake up at six, as he did every day, then roll over and get another three to four hours of much needed rest. His weekends were filled with making sure his homework was dealt with, practicing his drum skills, and most importantly, making money. He allowed himself to sleep in because he was usually up until midnight or later for his job, depending on how busy things were on a night to night basis.

Kenny rolled out of bed, scratching at his scalp and stretching out his tired limbs. He headed toward the bathroom, hearing the sounds of Karen singing while she cooked up some eggs and ham. On Saturdays, the two of them spoiled themselves with a real breakfast. Sure, they were discounted eggs that had cracks in them and half-off ham that had yesterday's date as its sell-by deadline, but it was perfectly good food and would've been thrown out anyway, adding to the country's huge food waste problem. Their parents never knew about their fancy breakfasts. That was because they were always either still passed out from the night before, or they were out working if they happened to have an opening shift at whatever job they were currently employed. Kenny was glad for that, however, because he didn't want to hear his father rant about the cost of "luxury foods" again.

The water bill had finally been paid last week and the shower was thankfully putting out water with some decent pressure, but as Kenny stepped inside the shower, the loud string of curses that fell from his mouth let Karen know that something was wrong with the water heater again. He exited the bathroom, clean, but feeling like his testicles may never reemerge from inside his body.

"Hey Kenny!" Karen happily greeted as he entered the kitchen. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, pretty well." He sat at the table and cut into his over easy eggs, watching the yolks ooze out onto the slice of ham. "How was your friendly pizza date?"

"It was great! Clyde's a really sweet guy. I'm still sad that he doesn't feel the same way I do, but I'm glad that he's still willing to be my friend."

"You're not trying to become his friend in the hopes that he'll eventually think about dating you…right?" Kenny eyed Karen with a hint of suspicion. "Just cause that rarely works, so I don't want you getting your hopes up."

"No, no, don't be silly, Ken," she replied through a mouthful of ham. "I wouldn't let myself be kept on the hook like that. I genuinely just want to be his friend. He's fun! I really don't understand why you two aren't friends anymore."

Kenny fell silent. The sound of Karen's fork scraping her plate as she ate filled the room.

"That's a good question," he finally said. "We're just different people now, you know? We fit in with different groups, and we just don't really have anything in common any more."

Karen stared at Kenny while his eyes were focused down on his food. She wasn't buying any of what he was saying. She might have just begun to get to know Clyde well, but she could already tell that he and Kenny were a lot alike in many ways. Still, she decided to keep that thought to herself.

Kenny sighed. "But you know, after last night…well, maybe I should try to get to know him again. For a minute there, while we were talking…it had kinda felt like we were twelve again, you know? It made me feel really good."

Karen finished her meal and stood up to place her dish in the sink.

"Speaking of that, why were you in the locker room with him if you hate him so much?"

"He injured his fucking knee! I felt bad and wanted to check on him cause he's important to the success of the football team, and I wanna play at Mile High Stadium one more time before I graduate. Can't one guy check on another guy's well-being? Damn!"

Kenny quickly got up from his chair and placed his own dish in the sink. He gave Karen a kiss on the forehead and hurried away toward his room to start on his homework. She shook her head and rolled her eyes at him as he walked away. He could say what he wanted, but she had a nagging feeling that he didn't hate Clyde as much as he insisted.

Kenny put his truck into park outside the City Wok. He hopped out and closed the driver's door hard, as it was the only way to ensure that the rusted door would actually stay shut. He had been working for the restaurant off and on ever since he was a kid. It was mostly under the table at that point, as child labor was obviously illegal, even though Mr. Lu Kim never really seemed to care. Still, he had been willing to pay Kenny for various odd jobs back then, like mopping the floors, and it had helped him be able to get nice things for Karen from time to time. Nowadays, he had a work permit and could officially work for the restaurant. He had moved up in the world, from busboy to delivery driver, as City Wok expanded into the take-out market. It was still illegal, as Kenny was a minor and therefore couldn't be a driver, but that had never stopped him or the City Wok establishment before, so why would it now?

He clocked in and leaned against the counter while he waited for the first orders of the day. Once back in his truck with two bags of food, he set up the GPS on his phone, turned over the engine, and headed out on his route.

Kenny enjoyed working as a driver. He enjoyed riding around town, even though his truck had awful mileage, and he was able to meet new people in a friendlier setting than behind the counter. He found that when people were at home or work and he stopped by with the food, they were much nicer than when they came into the restaurant themselves. He assumed that it was because they were in their element, and therefore more comfortable, but maybe it was more because people don't want to look like petty assholes in front of their family or co-workers.

Kenny also enjoyed making the deliveries because of his handful of regulars. He loved his regulars. They always treated him wonderfully, knew him by name, and typically gave him sizable tips. His favorite regulars were the middle aged housewives who shamelessly flirted with him since they thought he was eighteen. He never corrected them. He figured that he was close enough to legal age, and they never made any attempts to push things past playful banter about how handsome he was.

He looped back around to City Wok to pick up more deliveries. He continued this routine for several hours, until the sun finally set and he returned to the restaurant to clock out for his meal break. Mr. Lu Kim usually gave him a bowl of whatever he wanted for free, which was certainly helpful because Kenny wouldn't have eaten anything for dinner otherwise. He took his food—City sweet and sour pork? Chicken? He couldn't tell—and sat at a table in the corner.

Kenny heard the bell over the door ring as it opened, but didn't bother to look up. He heard a lot of giggling and the sound of crutches. Jimmy must be out on a date was his first thought. That was quickly debunked when he heard the voice of the customer ordering.

"Yeah hi, could we have two bowls of the City beef, one of the chicken, and one of the shrimp? Don't worry, ladies. I'll pay."

Kenny nearly choked on the bite he was chewing.

"Nooo, sweetie! Don't you worry about paying! You just focus on nursing that knee so that you can get back to playing. Let us treat you!"

Kenny's eyes slowly panned up to see Clyde and three juniors from school flanking him. Once they were finished paying and received their food, they all sat down around a table on the other side of the restaurant. It was far enough away for Clyde to not notice Kenny staring at him, but close enough so that Kenny could overhear their conversation. Of course, Clyde and friends were so loud that he probably could have heard them outside.

Kenny watched Clyde with an eagle eye for his entire lunch break. Clyde must've been on some good shit, if he was hurting at all, because he didn't look like he was in any pain. The few times he winced and grabbed his knee, it was clearly to get sympathy from his female companions who immediately placed their hands on his and cooed words of encouragement.

"You know, ladies," Clyde said, "my house is empty for the evening since my dad will be at work. If you'd like to join me for some...dessert?"

Kenny rolled his eyes at the god awful pick-up line. Kenny was unsure how Clyde ever got laid with that sort of talk. When the girls looked like they were considering it, but still hesitant, Clyde continued.

"I hear, uh, that endorphins help reduce the perception of pain, so…that would really help me right now."

Clyde bit his lower lip and looked at them with his big brown puppy eyes. The girls didn't stand a chance. They back and forth at each other like they were trying to read one another's thoughts. They nodded at each other and excused themselves to the bathroom, most likely to further discuss the offer on the table.

Kenny stood up and did a hard walk towards Clyde's table. He pulled up a chair and straddled it, resting his hands on the back of the chair and leaning forward. He didn't say a word. He let his eyes speak for him.

Clyde inhaled some of his soda when he saw Kenny sit down. He put down the paper cup and turned his head to cough, gasping for air when he could.

"You're looking well," Kenny muttered once Clyde had regained his breath.

"H-hey, McCormick."

"Crutches, huh? Guess your injury was really serious then."

Kenny spoke in a deadpan voice and his face gave away nothing. Clyde kept averting his eyes from Kenny's stare. He felt his ears getting hot. He had to get rid of Kenny as fast as possible, or he'd risk the girls returning from the bathroom.

"Yeah, well...I'm lucky it wasn't as serious as they'd initially thought. The orthopedist said I don't need surgery, just need to give it some rest and see a physical therapist a few times a week until it's healed. He even said I could be cleared to play again in a couple week."

"Wow. Lucky you," Kenny replied, still with the flat tone of voice.

"Yup."

Clyde took another sip of his soda and looked toward the hallway that led toward the bathrooms. This was one of the more uncomfortable situations he had ever found himself in.

"You're faking it," said Kenny.

"Excuse me?" asked Clyde.

"Awfully convenient that you just so happened to injure yourself in the mildest way possible. You really think that those girls are going to let you into their panties out of pity because of some pretend injury? Dude, if this is how you plan to get points, then I've already won and we might as well end this shit show right now."

Clyde slowly swallowed the sweet liquid in his mouth and placed the cup down on the table. He finally held Kenny's gaze without blinking. He was too riled up now to be civil about this, so he figured he'd might as well try fighting back.

"I don't know where you're getting this delusion that I'm faking this, but you know what? Yeah. I'm gonna use it to my advantage." He leaned forward and spoke quietly so only Kenny could here. "And cause I can't use my knee, they're gonna have to do all the work."

A small smile crept up on Clyde's mouth. Kenny cracked his neck and tightened his grip on the chair. Clyde somehow always knew how to shorten his fuse.

The sounds of giggling suddenly reemerged from the bathroom. Kenny looked to the hallway, then back at Clyde. He swung his leg over the seat of the chair as he stood up. He roughly pushed the chair back toward the table and went to clock back into work. He grabbed the new bags of take-out and left the restaurant, lips tightly pursed, nostrils flared, and eyes pointed straight ahead.

They say that you shouldn't drive angry. It's good advice, but Kenny never listened to it. Driving was how he often calmed himself down when he was angry. After some bullshit argument with his father, go for a drive. After coming home and finding out that his mother used the money he loaned her for drugs rather than groceries for the week, go for a drive. Kenny found it soothing. Usually.

Today was a different story. Today he wasn't just angry at Clyde. No, he was also angry at himself for even thinking for a moment that Clyde maybe hadn't changed as much as he'd thought. That maybe Clyde was someone he could become friends with again. Nope. Clyde was still a selfish idiot jock who thought that the world should just give him things because he scores some fucking touchdowns. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo.

When he hit the brakes at a stop sign, he glanced at his truck's tape deck. He took a moment to glance through the handful of cassette tapes he had—he bought a dozen for a dollar at the thrift store a few weeks after he got the truck—and slipped in the one that best fit his current mood. Kenny stepped on the gas, revving the engine, as the frenzied guitar that opens Slayer's "Angel of Death" filled the cab. Kenny immediately felt himself relax some, and then he sped off down the road to the next customer.

What exactly was he going to do tomorrow? He had to go to that dumbass Sunday meeting that he agreed to. Craig had even texted him that morning to remind him, writing that I won't hear the end of it from Clyde if you don't show up. He would show up, all right. He was just prepared to have Tweek kick his ass afterward because Kenny had a feeling that he was probably going to make a scene in Tweak Bros.

Craig had lost count of how many times he'd walked past the door. He knew they were all supposed to meet here at 11AM, but he'd ended up showing up ten minutes early. That wasn't absurdly early, but he also knew his friends, and punctuality was not one of their talents. Really, it wouldn't have been a problem to show up early, but Craig couldn't get himself to go inside the coffee shop. Because he was in there.

Tweek wiped down the countertops around him and then wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Letting out a sigh of relief, he replaced the dirty towel with a fresh one and turned to look at the main room. He had made it through yet another Sunday morning rush. The churchgoers always flooded through the doors after mass, which was great for business, but put a lot of strain on his anxiety that he had spent years trying to control. But he made it. He fucking made it.

Tweek noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and looked outside. Some person in all blue was hunched over and pacing back and forth in front of the store. Tweek shrugged to himself. He couldn't judge someone for being weird. He'd always been labeled one of the weird kids in elementary school, so in an odd way, he felt a sort of kinship toward the person. He moved around the counter and began to wipe the empty tables.

Craig stopped and stared at Tweek. He had moved from the spot he was in before. Oh shit! He probably saw him loitering around outside! Ah fuck, Craig thought as he almost went in, but then walked past the door once more. He couldn't go in there now cause it was obvious that he was nervous. He didn't really know why he should be nervous in the first place. Tweek's just a dude. Just a regular dude. Just because he put a heart in Craig's latte, and just because he called him cutie, and just because his piercings were kinda sorta really hot…

Craig shook his head. This was fucking dumb. He grabbed his hat on both sides and pulled it down over his eyes, yelling out in frustration and stomping his feet on the sidewalk.

He heard the bell ring, signifying that the door to Tweak Bros. had been opened. Craig immediately froze.

"Hey there, dude," Tweek began. "I don't know what your deal is exactly, and it's none of my fucking business, but…do you wanna come in and have a coffee or something? It's on me. I just...I know how hard things can be sometimes, and I thought maybe it'd help."

Craig slowly looked over his shoulder, adjusting his hat as he did.

"Oh! Hey cutie! I didn't recognize you," Tweek laughed.

Craig felt mortified. He opened his mouth, hoping words would come out. Thankfully, he never had to find out if they would have, because Bebe pulled up to the curb in her car like a golden haired angel in a sleek chariot. Clyde was in the passenger seat, and fumbled with his crutches as he made his way out of the car. Kenny arrived a minute later. They had heard his truck's muffler before he had turned the corner.

"What is this? The fucking Breakfast Club?" Tweek jabbed as Kenny jumped down from the cab of his truck.

"Ha ha, Tweek. The Breakfast Club was on Saturdays and they were in detention together. This is more like," Kenny glanced at the others, "Assholes at Tweak Bros. Getting Coffee."

"Coming to Netflix next month," Tweek added with a laugh. He held the door open while the four if them walked inside. "You want the same shit as last week?"

"You actually remember the orders?" asked Bebe.

Tweek shrugged. "It's a talent of sorts."

They all agreed to have the same drinks and Tweek disappeared to start working on them. As they sat down around their designated table, Kenny stared daggers at Clyde. He clenched his teeth and breathed slowly through his nose, doing his best to not go off on him in the quiet cafe.

"So," said Bebe, "how do we want to go about this? I know what the current score is, but since this is ultimately a grudge between you two dorks, I figure it would be best for you to talk to each other directly about the week, and Craig and I can confirm what we know."

Clyde looked at Kenny for the first time since he had arrived. The color drained from his face. Kenny looked like he wanted to eat his face off. And for what? For trying to use this awful injury—one that could have potentially been the end to any college dreams he had—to his benefit? It's not like he was going to be able to socialize a lot after school when he was at physical therapy. He had to seize opportunities for points where he could. Clyde thought that Kenny would be the sort of person who would understand and appreciate that.

"Well, uh…" Clyde stammered under Kenny's gaze. "I thought I'd be able to score one with Lisa at the party last weekend. We made out for a while, but when I tried to push things further, she stopped me and said No thanks. Been there, done that. Dammit, we dated for like two days in the fourth grade! She has barely been there and she definitely didn't do that."

Clyde's pout of rejection made Kenny snort quietly, and he felt his resentment begin to melt away.

"And how did your foursome go yesterday?" Kenny asked dryly.

Clyde glared back at him, but Bebe and Craig's interest piqued.

"Foursome? What foursome? You didn't tell me about this, Clyde!" Bebe exclaimed.

"Yeah, I'm pretty damn sure you would've blown up my phone with that one, dude," said Craig.

Clyde groaned and buried his head in his arms. He mumbled something unintelligible into his sleeves.

"What was that, Donovan?" Kenny asked. He placed his hand up to his ear and leaned in.

"I didn't have a fucking foursome! The girls said that they had other plans, but one of them gave me her number. I tried calling it last night…" Clyde sighed and covered his eyes with his hands. "...and it was the number to the Whole Foods."

The other three at the table burst out laughing at Clyde's misfortune. An older couple a few tables over turned to look at them with judgement in their eyes. When they had finally calmed down, Kenny looked up and nodded at Tweek as he approached with drinks in tow. Tweek moved around the table, placing the drinks down in front of their respective customers. He placed the final cup in front of Craig. The milky foam on top was a mess of jagged lines.

"Is it...supposed to be your hair?" Craig asked. His face screwed up in a confusion, and the question caused his friends to lean in, curious at what he was seeing.

"Nah, sorry about that. It's supposed to be a leaf, but I fucked up. I was practicing it all week so I'd have it ready for you the next time you came in."

A small smile graced Craig's lips. His fingers brushed against the fringe of his hat strings.

"I'm kinda off today," Tweek continued. "Some customers were talking politics in line earlier, and they were clearly the kind who feel that I, and others like me, should be dead or hidden away from 'good civilized people'. Pissed me off, but I was stuck in the middle of a rush, so it wasn't like I could just go off on them, you know?"

Kenny sat up in his seat. "You okay, man?"

"Yeah," said Tweek, raking his hand through his hair. "I will be. Now that you guys have your drinks, I'm gonna go out back and have a smoke. Want to join me?"

"Of course, dude! Do you mind waiting a little bit longer, though?" asked Kenny.

Tweek winked at Kenny. "For you, babe, always."

He looked down at Craig, who was holding his latte and staring at the odd art. He leaned down next to him. "I'll get it right next time, cutie," he said softly into Craig's ear.

Bebe gave Craig a knowing look as Tweek walked away.

"What?" Craig asked, raising his eyebrow at her.

"You've got it bad, Craiggy," she grinned.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," he said flatly. "And don't call me Craiggy. That's fucking dumb."

"Mmhmm. You can keep denying it, but that pink in your cheeks is giving you away."

Craig cleared his throat and tried to steer the conversation away from cute baristas who he may or may not have a crush on.

"So we know that Clyde is still at zero points. What about you, Kenny? I didn't notice any guys with the infamous 'McCormick walk' this week."

Clyde grimaced and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah," Kenny grinned. "I knew that Donovan wasn't going to be much of a challenge, so I kept it simple. I hooked up with Red last weekend. I didn't send her a satisfaction survey, but I'm pretty sure she had a good time."

Bebe nodded. She knew that Clyde was already aware of Kenny scoring, but continued for the sake of it being official. The last thing she wanted was to be blamed by one of these idiots for messing up the validity of the competition.

"I have confirmation from Red. I mean, you both made it pretty obvious at the party, but the next morning, Red texted me all about it." She glanced at Kenny, then looked down at the table as her ears began to turn red. "She, ah...went into very graphic detail."

"If you liked what you heard, know that my door is always open if you want to give me a try yourself, Bebe." He rested his chin on his hands and flashed her a lascivious grin. When she looked back at him, he gave her a wink.

Bebe tugged at the collar of her shirt. Did Tweek crank the heat in here or was it just her?

"I, uh…" she hesitated when she saw that Clyde was staring daggers at her. "I wouldn't want to interfere in the competition, but, uh…" She leaned over toward Kenny. "Hit me up in the spring," she whispered.

"Bebe!" Clyde whined.

"What? Your silly game will be over by then and you and I aren't dating, so why does it matter if I hook-up with Kenny?"

"Yeah, Clyde," Kenny mocked, "why does it matter if I make Bebe come so many times that she loses count?"

Clyde slammed his hands on the table and stood up. At least he tried to stand up, before his knee gave out on him and he frantically grabbed for his crutches. Craig reached a hand out to offer his help, but Clyde scoffed at it.

"I'll be in the car," he said quietly.

They watched as he awkwardly hopped toward the exit and fumbled with the door before heading outside. Bebe looked concerned. Kenny rolled his eyes. Craig frowned and turned to look at the others.

"You guys can be real dicks, you know that? And that's coming from me."

"I didn't think he'd take it that seriously," said Bebe.

"He's too emotional anyway," Kenny replied. "He needs to grow a thicker skin if he wants to be the 'number one guy' in school or whatever."

"He's been through a lot the last few days. I should've just let it go," said Bebe.

"Why? It's not your responsibility to keep him happy all the time." Kenny finished drinking his latte and pushed the mug into the middle of the table.

"I get it, though," Bebe added. "It's not always easy to listen to your ex flirting in front of you."

"That was a bit more than casual flirting, Bebe. That was a full-on proposition and planning," said Craig.

"I'm gonna go make sure he's okay," said Bebe.

"I'm gonna go smoke with Tweek," Kenny mumbled.

"Oh, please guys, let me pay, I insist," Craig said sarcastically to the air once he had been abandoned by his friends.

He looked at the check and opened his wallet. Luckily he had enough cash to cover the bill and leave a tip. He approached the empty counter and borrowed one of the pens by the register. Craig scribbled something down and left the receipt and cash under the pen.

Thanks for the latte. I expect that leaf to look really fucking good next time. =) -C

Craig bit his lip, feeling somewhat queasy that he had actually left a smiley face. He shoved his hands in his pockets and hurried out of the shop before he could change his mind.

"Hey, you finally made."

Tweek held out a cigarette for Kenny once he had shut the back door behind him. Kenny graciously accepted it from him and pulled his own lighter out of his pocket.

"Yeah, thanks for waiting. After all of that," Kenny motioned toward the building, "I really need this."

Tweek eyed Kenny as he lit his cigarette and took the first drag.

"A meeting of friends has you stressed?" asked Tweek.

"That wasn't a meeting of friends," Kenny sneered.

"Are you sure? Cause the four of you met at the same place drinking the same stuff a week ago. That sounds like a friend date to me."

"And you say that knowing full well how I feel about Donovan? Are you off your meds, dude?"

"Fuck you," Tweek laughed. "And no, I'm not. Yeah, I know you say you hate him, but you do talk about him a lot. Typically, if I hate someone, I don't want to talk about them ever and I sure as shit don't want to be in the same room as them, let alone the same table. So every once in a while, I question that hate of yours. You might not like him, but you do seem kind of obsessed with him, to be honest."

Kenny stared at Tweek while he slowly exhaled smoke into the morning air. The alley behind Tweak Bros was quiet and still, save for the muffled sound of some cars passing nearby. Tweek flicked the ash from his cigarette off to the ground. It glowed for a moment and died out on the cool asphalt.

"I take your silence as a sign that I'm right."

Kenny groaned. "This isn't Mean Girls, and he's no Regina fucking George."

He crouched down and leaned back against the cement wall.

"And if it were, he'd be the one obsessed with me. I only talk about him so much because he's always doing something dumb. Smacking me in the face with his glove. Trying to fight me during practice. Pretending to injure himself to get sympathy. He's stupid and pathetic."

"Wait. You think he faked that knee injury?" Tweek narrowed his eyes at his friend.

"Obviously. Act like it's a career ending injury, get people to pity you, but then 'oh, it wasn't anything and I'll be fine!'" Kenny waved his hands wildly in the air.

"Dude. He's fucking lucky that it wasn't as bad as they thought. Like he must have a guardian angel or something. His dad was in here getting a coffee before work and he was telling me about it."

"Why would he bother telling you about it? You and Donovan barely know each other."

"Eh, you know how parents can be. They assume everyone in our graduating class knows and likes each other. It's kinda cute, in a way. Completely false, but cute."

Tweek dropped his butt to the ground and squashed it under his boot. Pulling out another one and quickly lighting it, he continued.

"Anyway, he was telling me that the doctor had told him that he had been expecting an ACL tear, but it was luckily only a…what the fuck did he call it?…grade two MCL sprain? So like an ACL tear requires surgery and almost a year of recovery. That shit is serious. But a small MCL tear can only take a few weeks of rest and rehab. Now do you really think that Clyde would be able to convince his dad to not only be in on the ruse, but to go around town and spread that detailed a story?"

Tweek inhaled, held his breath for longer than usual, then exhaled with a satisfied sigh.

"You've told me enough times that he's an idiot. That doesn't sound like something an idiot would be able to pull off, so he's either not as dumb as you think he is, or you're full of shit, Ken. I'm gonna assume the latter. Cause you're fuckin' obsessed with him."

Kenny shifted uncomfortably in place. Tweek calling people out on their crap was one of the things Kenny loved about him, but he never liked it being directed at him. Especially not now. Especially not when it came to Clyde.

Clyde had been vulnerable around Kenny on Friday night, and it was the first time in ages that they had shared something that felt real. Something substantial. Something resembling their friendship before things had fallen apart. It was a moment when both of their defenses were down. So when Kenny saw Clyde taking advantage of that vulnerability, trying to use it for points in his foolish game, it felt like it somehow invalidated that moment. Kenny knew that Tweek was right, but he didn't want to admit it out loud.

"Whatever, Tweek." He stepped on his own finished butt and moved to the propped open back door. "I'll see you tomorrow. I gotta go home and get ready for work."

Clyde was silent on the ride home. Bebe tried to get him to talk, to get him to engage her further on the issue that was upsetting him. She ended up having a one-sided argument instead.

"I'm sorry I upset you in there. I didn't think it was that big a deal."

"Is this your way of trying to say you want to date me again? Cause if it is, it's really not a great way to go about it."

"Look, it's not up to you to decide who and when I get to fuck, Clyde! I can't believe you even have the audacity to think you get to control me like that! Some friend you are!"

"I'm sorry I snapped like that," she sighed as she pulled into the Donovan's driveway. "I'm just trying to figure out why you be so upset about the idea that I might hook-up Kenny. Like, it hasn't even happened...I don't know if it ever will, and if it does, it won't be for any points. I know you don't like him very much, but-"

"Don't like him much? Bebe...that doesn't even begin to describe how I feel about Kenny McCormick. I loathe him. I despise him. My hatred runs deep. The guy purposely antagonizes me whenever he gets the chance. I don't know why he feels the need to apparently only harass me, but that's what he fucking does. And what hurts the most is that I thought I saw a different side of him the other day. Like...the side everyone always swears is there. This cool guy that makes everyone feel at ease. You know he came to see me after the game?"

"No, I didn't," Bebe quietly replied.

"Yeah. He did. And after I talked with him, I felt better. I felt like he understood the fear I felt. But it turns out it was just part of his plan to be a grade A jackass. The next day he's fucking saying I faked this injury. You know me, Bebe. I'm not that good an actor! Why would I risk everything I've built for myself with football on faking an injury? Cause I'm not going to be able to play next weekend for sure, and who the fuck knows if I'll be cleared for the one after that! Football is my everything, and I really don't know what I'd do without it. But he doesn't care about that. He just gets off shoving my face in the dirt. So that...that...is why I'm upset about the thought of you and him together."

Clyde opened the door and placed his crutches on the outside of the car. He positioned himself on the outer edge of the seat, then turned back to look at Bebe.

"Babe, you could sleep with the entire school and I'd be there to give you a million high fives. Just not him. Please not him."

Clyde stood up and hopped forward, nudging the door shut with his hip. Bebe watched as he made his way up the driveway and into his house. She ran both of her hands through her thick curls and tugged. Letting out a groan of frustration, she shifted the car into reverse and pulled out of the driveway. As well as she knew both guys, she really couldn't figure out just why they were making each other this crazy.

"Fucking Christ, boys are so dumb," she sighed.