Hesitation

Never give up on something that you can't go a day without thinking about.

And again.

Never give up on something that you can't go a day without thinking about.

…damnit.

I heave a rather loud sigh, grumbling as I try to glare at the paper in front of me once more, in yet another attempt at rereading the essay prompt. It's a topic I'm already used to seeing, of course, especially since last year. The format's always the same; there's a quote (most of the time from some famous person), then the typical "Do you agree or disagree with this statement? Create a well-organized essay in which you support your standpoint, and be sure to develop a strong thesis, blah, blah."

One would typically think that if it's always the same format then there's no problem in writing it. After all, practice makes perfect, right?

No.

It's actually rather annoying. So annoying I can't even write those kinds of essays anymore. Take summer reading assignments, for example. I'm so bad at them now that I need Kyle to help me… and I've gotten them every summer throughout high school.

Basically, I'm screwed. But then again, how much does this essay actually count for? After all, it is only a diagnostic essay-writing assignment. Timed writing, perhaps. But I'm pretty sure those are never usually for a grade anyway. So… will it matter if I write this?

But even if I did write this essay, what would I write it on? As always with these essays, it always asks me to "provide specific examples from person experiences and literature, blah, blah," and if the actual writing of the essay isn't enough to get at me then providing the real-life examples definitely do. And of course, I could always make up stories for this stupid essay, but thinking up of a good faux example might take longer than actually having one and using it….

So then… what to write about… or maybe who to write about?

Could I write about Kyle? I stop to think about it. I suppose, in a way, I could. I mean, in the past, even recently, we've always had feuds between us. Sometimes we'd fight about it and then make up afterwards. Other times we'd simply ignore each other until the matter had cooled down. But still, either way, there was always something that brought us back together. And maybe this quote… maybe it was because we thought about each other way too much to give up on each other….

But then, couldn't that be said about Wendy, too? We'd broken up at least… well, I don't even remember the number anymore…. But we'd split an incredible number of times, yet we keep coming back to each other. That follows the same theory, doesn't it? Or even in Kenny's case… I'm sure my involvement with his feud with his father could be twisted to make a good example. But at least I know Cartman would be the prime counterexample in all of this….

So then it's set. Now I just need to write an introduction and then I'm good to go.

…except, with just my luck, the bell decides to ring at this moment.

"Papers in!" Mr. I-think-you've-told-me-your-name-before-but-I've-forgotten-it-again yells above the crowds, though most people are too busy gathering their stuff to leave instead. "Put them on my desk, please! You all have a good—!"

"Sir?" I ask, approaching him with caution, holding my rather blank lined sheet in front of me. "Are we going to have extra time to work on this tomorrow…?"

The man gives a chuckle. "Why Mr. Marsh, you really need all that time to create your masterpiece? You know, on the AP exam, you aren't going to be given too much time to write such eloquent essays!"

"I know sir, but…." I hang my head in shame. "I think I spent too much time planning it out…."

"Is that so…?" My teacher scratches his chin. "Well let me see how far you've—"

I'm sure if a teacher could hit his student, he'd probably have done it.

"Mr. Marsh, explain this to me, please! This is hardly acceptable for a twelfth-grader! You had a whole class period to…!"—except I'm not really listening. I'm more distracted by other things, like when I'd actually be able to eat my lunch. Or if I'll be allowed to walk outside this classroom alive.

Eventually though, he does let me go. He hadn't planned on giving anyone extra time, even before seeing my rather pathetic productivity. And of course, even after seeing my pathetic ability in an AP English class, he still wasn't giving me any extra time. But he assured me with the fact that it wouldn't count for a grade and that he only wanted to see how good our writing skills were so far. And though he was angry that now he'd have no idea how I wrote until it actually counted for a grade, he was seemingly fine with that.

I was so concerned with heading to the cafeteria to eat lunch that I hardly even noticed the boy who had oh-so-patiently waited for me in the classroom. And it was only after a few steps in the hallway when I actually recognized his presence.

"Hey… Craig."

"Yo," is all he replies with, giving a small hand-wave. "Figured it out, yet?"

"Figured out…?" It takes me a small moment to remember what he's talking about. "Nah, not really. Too busy thinking about how to write an essay."

"You know what you should try to do," Craig beings, folding his arms behind his head; "think as you write. Introductions are usually BS-able, and oftentimes you can merely reword the prompt. So while you're writing the introduction, you can think about how to write the next paragraphs. It won't flow as nicely, but you'll still get the points for the basics, you know?" After this he smiles, which somewhat scares me. He's being… nice to me? And he still hasn't called me a fucker.

"Thanks," I reply, "I'll try to remember that. You're being awfully nice to me, though…."

He chuckles. "Oh, so you noticed? I guess I'm just having a good day, maybe." He smiles again; I almost want to say he's sucking up to me at this point. But for what purpose…? If anything, there's something he has that I want… supposedly. I can't seem to think of any reason for him to suck up to me… unless… maybe he's encouraging me to figure out that thing we have in common?

…either way, the conclusion's the same: This clearly isn't the Craig I'm used to being around.

"Come sit with me at lunch," Craig suggests all of a sudden, slinging an arm around my shoulders. "It'll be fun, I'm sure. You'll be able to talk to some people I'm sure you haven't really associated with since elementary school." I shrug, keeping to myself that those people are probably people I never wanted to associate myself with at all, back in my younger years. Still….

Maybe you should try asking Clyde?

"Sure," I tell him politely. "I guess it's nice to have a change everyone once in a while anyway… but just this once!"

He smirks. "Doesn't matter to me… whatever floats your boat, Stan."

"Cool…. Well, I'll go tell Wendy then… so she doesn't get mad at me."

"She still has you on a leash, I take it?" asks Craig, a devious grin in his expression. "Don't take too long, then."

And he flicks me off as he walks away. I think… I think that qualifies as calling me a fucker…. So much for that, then.

For a moment I just watch him leave. But for once, my idleness isn't because I've zoned off. I think people are staring at me, but I'm not really caring too much. My eyes simply follow Craig's form through the cafeteria as he snakes through tables, squeezes through people, until at last he takes a seat somewhere on the far end of the building.

Now I know where he's sitting. And sure, I suppose I could've asked or followed him, but I hardly care.

"Having an eye for someone other than Wendy, I see?" a sudden voice whispers in my ear, and I nearly jump to find Kenny behind me, smirking with even more of an evil expression than Craig's face had just been moments before. "Or wait—was it Kyle you were seeing…? I can hardly remember nowadays."

"Shut up Ken, you know Wendy's my girlfriend."

At this, for some reason, his expression suddenly falls. "Yeah… don't remind me." Then, moments later, he lightens up once more and begins to pull me by my arm through the tables. "Come, I'm sure they're waiting for us!"

"Ken, hold on—!" but he doesn't listen and drags me to our usual table anyway. For some reason Kyle isn't at the table, but Wendy and Cartman are already there waiting. Cartman's wearing this blank expression on his face, an expression I can hardly read… not that I'd really want to. And as for Wendy… well….

"About time!" Wendy exclaims, leaning forward as I give her a kiss on her cheek. "Just where the hell have you guys been? It's already fifteen minutes into lunch and no one's been here!"

"Aye! I've been here accompanying you the entire—!"

"Sorry, Wends, I was talking to the English teacher about my essay… met up with Ken along the way." Cartman gives me a pout, but I merely ignore him.

To this Wendy merely nods, smiling. "Ah I see. Oh, are you talking about the diagnostic essay thing? How'd that go?"

I look at my sneakers. "Er…."

"So where's Kyle, then?" Wendy asks quickly afterwards, getting my point. "He wasn't with you all?"

"I thought you guys had the exact same schedule!" Kenny and I ask almost in unison.

Wendy shakes her head. "Nah, not this period. Kyle and I have six classes together. But I have Latin fourth period, while he's busy taking French. So though in other situations I'd know where he is…."

"Ah, I see…."

Silence. Kenny takes a seat at the table, immediately striking conversation with Wendy. Cartman tries inputting his share, but most of the time Wendy and Kenny ignore him. Yet still… I need to tell Wendy… that I'm not sitting….

"Stan, stay awhile!" Wendy says with a laugh, pulling out a chair. "Why are you still standing? You're making me feel short!"

"Wends, er…. I'm gonna sit somewhere else for today." Rather blunt, sure, but perhaps the most efficient way. Wendy questions me for a bit, and I tell her honestly. Thankfully, she doesn't question much about it, and she smiles before giving me a rather pleasant sendoff. But Kenny, on the other hand…. Well, let's just say Kenny was awfully curious about what business I had with Craig.

…and of course, curiosity killed the cat. Or, in this case, the cat killed Kenny….

"Where'd the cat come from?" Craig asks himself quietly, and I give him a shrug. "You're not… concerned at all?"

I shrug again. "Nah, not really. He used to die a lot when he was younger, if you remember. Though he hasn't died as much, I'm sure it's no big deal." Craig looks at me like I characterize the worst friend in existence. And his head I'm sure he's thinking something like "Maybe we're not so much alike after all" or something, but I'll never really know. But he's definitely shocked, at the very least.

Craig clears his throat. "Anyways, Stan, I'm sure you remember all of these people… Jean being the only exception here." At this he gestures toward a red-headed girl to his left. Indeed, I can't place a finger on her at all; she has brown eyes, a narrow face, and decently applied makeup on her face. She's also wearing a rather odd green turtleneck, which is somewhat surprising since September's hardly started….

"I'm Stan," I say with a friendly tone, extending my hand. "But I think you've already established that."

"Yes," she replies, smiling. Today… seems to be a rather cheery day. "I'm Jean, but you also already knew that."

"She's my girlfriend," Craig adds in her favor, and I silently nod to myself. Perhaps… another similarity? "She moved from Salem recently… you know, that one city in Oregon."

"I know," I reply, and he merely shrugs.

"Anyway, you know everyone else here. You know Token, Thomas, Clyde, Tweek…."

Clyde….

For the remainder of the lunch period I merely listen to all of them talk. Oddly enough, once Craig had finished with the introductions, he seemed to not talk as much. He seemed to listen more to the conversation, inputting with his occasional yet rather harsh insults when he could. It seemed Token and Clyde had been talking the most, though Tweek was by far the loudest. He hadn't given up his outbursts, it seemed….

It was a far-off similarity between me and Craig, but definitely not the one I was supposed to be looking for. It was still somewhat ironic, that I was looking for similarities between a childhood enemy and myself, yet there was some fun in it. It was bad enough that a lot of teachers mixed us up still, especially since we tended to have the same haircut and the same kinds of clothing. Looking for this… aspect… was basically asking us to be similar in just one more way.

But Craig already knew about this similarity, whatever it was…. Part of me wonders how he realized it, or why he realized it. I'm sure he hadn't been observing me too much lately, or else I would've noticed it. But then again… it would seem that I hardly notice things, especially when it comes with friends who're close to me…. But furthermore, not only why did he notice this particular common ground, but why does it mean so much to him as to want me to find it out, too…?

And of course, in the end, I really don't pick up anything important from eating lunch with Craig. Most of his friends are as rowdy as ever, and a lot of them contrast differently than my own friends. But then maybe that's why we weren't friends before, and maybe that's why we still aren't. But there's still room for people to change….

When the bell rings to signal the end of lunch, I resort to Plan B in Operation Find-out-Craig's-secret: Clyde.

"Yo Clyde!" I greet him, throwing my arm around his shoulders. In the back of my mind Craig's bells are ringing at me, as he had done the same thing to me about an hour before. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

He looks somewhat annoyed, I think. "What do you want?"

I shrug. "Oh I dunno, just greeting an old friend."

Shit… I really do sound like Craig when I'm trying to get something out of someone… but maybe everyone sounds like this?

"Listen Stan, I still really don't like you too much as a person." Cold…. "But for some reason Craig's taken a liking of you, so I'm only tolerating you when I can."

"Fair enough," I reply, shrugging my shoulders. "I was actually just curious if you knew as to why Craig's taken that liking of me…."

He shakes his head. "Sorry. Ask Tweek, he'd know."

…Tweek?

To this I laugh. "Tweek? Is Tweek close to Craig at all?"

"Oh yeah," Clyde replies, nodding. "I guess an outsider to Craig like you wouldn't know, really. But Craig and Tweek are actually really close friends… even if it doesn't look like it. Y'I dunno, I could hardly believe it myself the first time I heard, so don't worry about it."

"Tweek, huh…?" Clyde gives me an appraising look before walking off to his next class—and seeing him do that reminds me I have somewhere to go to. And though on my way to the next class I keep thinking about the failure of this whole impromptu-eating-lunch-with-Craig ordeal, I at least have a new lead….

But that's definitely enough Craig for one day, I think. I'll talk to Tweek another time.

-

At seven-thirty, almost on the dot, I ring Wendy's doorbell. As expected, she doesn't immediately answer, and so I merely wait outside. Tonight I had promised Wendy we'd hang out for a while; of course, I'd wanted to do something special at first, like take her out to dinner… but then I realized I was too broke for that. But Wendy insisted she'd rather just not go anywhere this time around, since spending time together this way was also good enough.

And so, that's how I ended up at her doorstep, though quite late in the nighttime. And that's also why I'm actually at her doorstep with the intent of going inside, and also why I'm not as formally dressed as I usually am. Though I guess I'm not exactly wearing shorts with a t-shirt… casually dressy, I suppose.

After about a minute of waiting, Wendy finally opens the door. "Right on time!" she exclaims as she opens it, greeting me with a warm hug; "Hurry up, come inside! My parents are waiting for you!"

I smile. "Okay." After stepping inside and taking off my shoes, I greet her parents warmly, asking politely about how Wendy's grandmother's doing; and then when I'm done with formalities I join Wendy on the couch. Right now the cooking channel is on, per her mother's request, but I don't complain and sneak an arm around Wendy and merely watch the television.

"Remember the time when my parents would be angry at you for doing that?" Wendy asks me with a whisper, and I nod with a grin. How could I remember the first time I'd visited her home…? I was constantly being watched, I was snapped at whenever I so much as even touched her….

"Will you be staying for dinner?" Mrs. Testaburger asks me, to which I nod. "Anything you want in particular?"

"Anything's fine," I reply politely, and she smiles before returning to the kitchen. I turn to Wendy. "So I'm hoping that toilet's still fixed properly, right?"

She gives a laugh. "Actually it did break again once, but my parents had a profession fix it this time around. I would say that my parents weren't happy with the job you did, but they don't know it was broken previously…."

"Of course not," I say with a smile, and I lean forward to kiss her forehead lightly. Oddly enough, it's been a while since I last hung around Wendy's place. Sure, I've picked her up for many reasons such as school or taking her to dinner. But for some reason I haven't really set foot inside her house recently. Not that I can really explain that behavior, though… maybe it's just the circumstances.

We talked a lot after that. Her mom finally gave up trying to cook the foods on the television, so she switched the channel to some movie I hardly recognized. Sometime during that movie we also ate baked salmon for dinner. It was actually rather tasty, though Wendy kept thinking I was saying it just to please her mom. And of course, her mom was pleased, and her parents left us alone for the rest of the evening. Not that anything happened after that, since Wendy grew rather attached to the movie and wanted to see its end.

It was only once the credits ended when she finally spoke. "Stan…?"

"Yeah?"

"Uh… nothing, never mind."

…to say merely that.

"You sure?" I ask her, just to make sure. Somehow this situation seems familiar….

"Yeah, don't worry about it," she says, giggling nervously. "I was gonna ask something, but I think it'll answer itself in time…."

Yeah… definitely… reminds me… of Kyle. Except that alone confuses me; what could she possibly be hiding? At least with Kyle I knew somewhat as to why he kept changing his mind when trying to say something. But Wendy… unless…?

"You aren't breaking up with me again, are you?"

Her punch to my side thereafter is quite painful….

"No, of course not!" she exclaims, shaking her head in disbelief. "Is that all you're really worried about, Stan? Seriously…."

"Sorry," I mutter in apology. "But I mean, I can't think of anything else you'd want to say…. Last time you told me that you found yourself another Token… I think." Wendy only sighs, and she leans herself toward me, tilting her head back to look up at my face.

"Stan, don't worry about that, okay? This time around… I don't think I'll be the one leaving you." And that's all she says. I lean forward to kiss her once again, and this time it lasts a little longer than the other ones. Probably for insurance or assurance, yet I don't complain either way….

And eventually it becomes time for me to go, since time does tend to pass when you're having fun. And of course Wendy makes the goodbye kiss even better than the rest of them. Thankfully Kenny wasn't there to see it. But still, even after that, on the drive back to my house, the only thing I can really think of….

I don't think I'll be the one leaving you….

Did that imply… I would be leaving her? Was that what she meant?

I heave a sigh, entering my house and quickly find my way to my room. The house is asleep, with the exception of my unofficial roommate, and I suppose I'm glad for that fact. I'm not sure I want my parents bugging me right now, especially with all this to think about….

"Hey Stan, what's up?" Kenny of course, sitting on my bed. But I think he takes the cue when I don't answer him and fall onto the empty space next to him. "Tired?"

"Yeah," I mutter in reply. "Shit to think about…."

"Care to share?" he asks, with perhaps a little ring behind his suggestion. And of course, since Kenny does seem to be my life-vent when I need one, I do tell him. I even tell him more about Craig than what I'd told Kyle, that there's apparently some similarity between me and Craig, that he wants me to find that common ground so we could both relate, how I'm supposedly doing a better job at something than he is…. And then I start ranting about how the diagnostic essay test went, how I spent the entire time thinking about my life and what to write about instead of actually writing. And that just went back to the issue with Craig….

But when I got to Wendy…. When I told him about how Wendy hesitated to tell me something, when I told him there was something she might be hiding from me…. When I told him what she had said to me…. The only thing Kenny could say….

"Oh."

"Oh?" I echo, somewhat confused. Partially because I'd expected Kenny to say something profound about my situation like he always does, partly because I thought he'd at least say something more enlightening after I'd explained to him all my troubles. "Oh?—what does that mean?"

Kenny shrugs solemnly. "Oh? Just what it is, I guess…."

I shake my head slightly. "Ha… great…! Now there're three people who're hesitant to tell me certain things. Exactly what I need…."

"Ah, no…!" Kenny bites his lip, looking away. "That's not what I wanted to happen at all…!"

"Then tell me what's up," I tell him quietly, looking him in the eyes. "For me? I don't need someone else scared to trust me…."

Kenny tries to match my gaze into his eyes, but he turns away afterward. "I don't want us fighting this late at night, Stan…."

"Is it about your dad?" I ask, scratching my chin. "I'll try not to make you angry if it—"

"Not my dad," Kenny interjects coldly, gaze still averted. "Wendy."

"Wendy?" I echo, tilting my head. "What about her…?" …except, I think I might already know the answer to that. Yet I choose not to acknowledge it as truth until I hear it from him….

Kenny turns to look at me once. His face suddenly turns red, and he turns away again. His lips are pursed now, his eyes narrowing…. Somehow, with context clues, I already know I'm right.

"I… like Wendy."

I give a nervous laugh. "R-really? That's good, Ken. I-I mean, I won't have to force you to get along with her like I did with Ky—"

"No, Stan," Kenny repeats, a little more firm in his voice.

I bite my lip.

"I… like… Wendy."

Posted: June 22nd, 2008.

Like I said before... please review? Since you now know it actually DOES motivate me to write faster... Oh, and I'm already like 200 words or so into the next chapter, so I assure you I'm already on the ball with that. I want to update before July 13th, or otherwise known as when I leave for Sacramento!

Though, I suppose you'd also review if you knew that each review prevents Satan from taking over the world... again. :)

-Zak