Trust Me; Kyle's POV


Something's wrong with him... I stare at my best friend, trying to see through the act he's pulling. Although he denies it, I can see something is clearly out of place here. Why can't he tell me? Oh shit... I quickly look away, he noticed my lingering stare of probing. For the brief second I saw them, his eyes held concern for my strange behavior towards him, but hidden behind them was sadness and loss. I should ask him. But he beats me to it.

"Hey, Kyle?" his voice reaches my thoughts and I turn my head to him again, listening. "Is something wrong? You've been acting weird all day."

What about you? I wanted to ask, You're the one who's hiding something from me. Me! You're best friend! Or... the person who you claim is your best friend.

Instead I shake it off, "No, nothing's wrong. I'm just thinking about the upcoming finals."

Ooohh... bad move on my part. I see him involuntarily cringe at the comment. The sound of pompous laughter reaches my ears and I immediately frown. Cartman.

"Hahaha," the fat boy chuckles heartily, "Only a gay-assed Jew would worry about the finals a week before they happen."

I shifted my attention towards him, "Shut up you fucking fatass, normal people worry about finals a month before they occure. If you're waiting until the last minute, then you're even stupider than I thought. Basically meaning that your IQ is smaller than a rock's."

"Ay! I am not fat! A don't go comparing me to some shitty ole' rock!" he shouted, my reply hitting some sort of nerve.

"Yeah, Kyle." came the muffled reply of Kenny, another good friend of mine, "The rock deserves better than that."

We high-fived each other while laughing at the steaming lardbutt before us. It was lunch and I was sitting beside my best friend Stan, who had gone quiet ever since my comment about finals, and across from Kenny who was next to Cartman. The period was almost over, Cartman had finished his three lunches and Kenny his own lunch, Stan had barely touched his food and I was nearly finished. As our laughter faded, Cartman simply grumbled about Jewish fags, irking me, and poor pieces of shit, not bothering Kenny in the slightest. Stan remained nonresponsive, staring with an empty glaze in his eyes at the fork in his hand.

"Shut up, gaywads." Cartman muttered, his eye suddenly landing on Stan's full plate, "Hey, Stan, are you gonna eat that?"

Stan shrugged, "Maybe. Even if I wasn't I wouldn't give it to you. You're fat enough already."

A grin came to my face. Finally! Stan was getting back into the game. I laughed and agreed, patting him on the back and he simply smiled. Kenny applauded him, while Cartman chucked his own fork at him. It missed. This made the fat boy even angrier, spouting strange grunts of frustration and slamming his fist on the table. A regular tantrum of his from the younger years.

"JUST FUCK OFF ALL OF YOU! Escpecially you, you Jewish piece of shit!" he hollered, red in the face.

Stan smirked, "Jesus Christ Cartman, are you on your period or what?"

"Sure sounds like it!" Kenny's laughter sounded from within his hood.

I wasn't laughing, my face was the same shade as Cartman's now, "God! Shut the hell up about me being Jewish, fatlard!"

"Stop calling me fat then!"

"Well, it's the truth!" I retorted.

He fumed, "Ay! It's true about you too, Jew!"

"Nice rhyming," I mocked sarcastically, "Congratulations! You finally got a D- in English, a great improvement compared to all your Fs!"

"When did you start grading me!"

"Since I realized what a dumbass you were, which was the first time I met you, and that I needed to keep track of your failures to rub it in your BIG, FAT, FUCKINGFACE!"

By this time in our heated discussion, Kenny and Stan had left, the bell had rang, and Cartman and I were stuck with two detention slips for that afternoon. I sulked during our next period, every trace of worry and concern for my best friend had left me and replaced with scorn and resentment for the person I hated most.

The occasional glance of wonder would come my way from Kenny, a look of pure hatred from Cartman, and nothing from Stan. For once it seemed like he was actually paying attention in class, taking notes and everything. I smiled in spite of myself. Stan had been having trouble in school, though he tried to hide it we all knew. It sadened me that my best friend wasn't trusting enough to tell me this, which brought me back to wondering what he is still hiding from me.

World History ended and we all packed up to leave, except me and the tub of lard who had detention for the next hour. School ended early on Fridays, we got to go home at 1:30, today it wasn't until 2:30 for me.

For an hour I had to sit next to Cartman, wondering how he managed to squeeze into that desk with all that blubber. My thoughts also wandered to Stan, I couldn't help but wonder what the poor guy had to go through. His family was now dysfunctional, apparently his dad walked out on them when he lost his job and started cheating on his wife, his mom juggles between two jobs and possibly a third one, and his sister beats him up everyday because she blames him for everything. He managed to tell me that much. So most nights he was at my house sleeping on my bedroom floor. 'It's better than what I get at home.' he'd tell me, grinning sheepishly. I don't know what his new house looks like, I've never seen it, but I'm guessing that it resembles Kenny's.

Another thing he managed to reveal to me was that he was kicked off the high school football team for failing two classes. Stan loved football, it was his favorite sport, he'd played it since he was eight and even then he rocked. It sucked that he lost that. He told me once that when he was on the field, he forgot about everything else and felt carefree and happy again. It took him away from reality. In a way, I was happy for him. Yet it also brought me an empty feeling, like I wasn't helping him enough. That I could help him be happy again if I tried. But it was only a passing thought, one I never acted upon.

I'm yanked out of the depths of my mind as I see students rising and leaving, the hour's over. I leap up and race out the door. My feet take me in the direction of my locker. I had forgotten my Science notebook and I needed it to study with. My feet skidded to a stop when I saw someone in my locker. Well, the one below mine. I shared lockers with Stan, but he should've been home already... or out of school at the least.

"Stan?" I call hesitantly, not sure if it's him.

He's startled, since he falls backwards and drops whatever he was holding and looks at me fearfully, "Oh... hey Kyle. What're you doing here?"

"I had detention, remember? And I forgot a notebook." I reply, looking at him skeptically, he's still on the floor, "You need help, dude?"

"What? No, no, I'm fine. Just... just getting something." he stood up abruptly, looking far too agitated than one would expect.

I continued to stare at him, "What're you doing here still?"

"I told you, getting-"

"No, I mean, why are you still at school?" I clarify, walking closer to him and the locker.

His blue eyes never met my green ones, he looked in every direction but mine. "Ummm... I was here for tutoring..."

The response was mumbled, so I barely made it out. "Tutoring? In which subject? Algebra or Chemistry?"

I mentally kicked myself, Stan didn't know that I knew he was failing those two subjects! He cast me a confused gaze, it only lasted for a second. A sad smile took it's place and he went back to grabbing whatever he needed. I looked down at my shoes, finding them extremely interesting.

"Both."

His sudden reply surprised me, I looked up and saw him standing right in front of me, "I'm failing both, as you know, and so... I'm being tutored in both of them. I've been doing this for three weeks now... Sorry I didn't tell you, I just didn't want you to worry."

"Stan, I-" I didn't know what to say, I should've apologized for snooping around and finding out, "I... I'm your best friend right?" I recieved a nod from him, "Then you can tell me anything, okay? You can't stop me from worrying, I do it more when you don't tell me what's bothering you. I don't like thinking that you don't trust me. It sucks."

He said nothing, but the smile in his eyes was all I needed as a reply. He waited for me as I retrieved my notebook and we walked home together, making plans about the weekend and starting with tonight. We made it to my front door before he looked sick and pale again, guilt was also evident in his features. I knew what was coming before he even said it.

"Wendy."

His head shot up, causing stray strands of black hair to qiver, "W-what?"

"Lemme guess," I sighed, my turn for agitation, "You have plans with Wendy. So you have no choice but to break our plans. Fine, okay. I should've known this was coming."

Despite our earlier conversation, I couldn't help but become mad and frustrated with him whenever Wendy was involved. I hated her. Mainly because she's a bitch and a slut, but also because she kept us from hanging out. Yeah, he'd come to me some nights crying about something unknown to me, he'd sleepover, but we didn't really do anything else because every free fucking minute he spent with Wendy. Even if she did dump him in fourth grade, then come back in freshman year for more. And he fucking accepted her.

Stan looked sad again, "No, Kyle... I-"

"Just forget it Stan!" I lost a bit of my control, "But don't come crying to me again tonight! Go to your precious Wendy, she needs you more than me. And I'm sure you like her company better. So, see you later!"

I slammed the door behind me, deeply regretting what I just told him. The window was next to me, so I took a peek outside. He was still standing on my doorstep, just staring at it with that empty gaze. He was like that for ten minutes before realizing that I wasn't coming and began walking home. I closed the curtain, and whirled around to face my living room. I flopped face down on the couch, ignoring my mom who was bitching about my yelling. Like I give a damn.