This is a fast update this time, I know. It won't always be like this, seeing as I am nearing finals. It's really hard NOT to write something so quickly when it is so personal, though. So I'm going to do my best to balance out work with pleasure. For those of you who are into this story (which I thank you much), pray that the work doesn't overload me so that I can reward myself with writing this. Okay, enough with the lame introduction.
Once again, a big thanks to my dear reviewers, and to all readers…here you go!
Chapter 2- Just Another Day
"Stan, it's time to get up for school!" I hear my mother yelling through my thick door, and I know she's right on the other side.
Ugh, I don't want to get up! I want to lay here and think about Kyle. His heartwarming smile, mesmerizing eyes, cute clusters of freckles…
I imagine him lying on the other side of me. I pretend as though he's there, and the smile on my face returns.
I do this quite often. Especially at night. When I'm alone. And no one hears me. But then I get all aroused, and end up being louder than what I should have been anyway. Cursed hormones. I fucking hate having to deal with them.
I hate dealing with morning wood too. And that's what I got right now. One step into my room, and my mom might get decapitated, I'm that hard. Sucks, there's nothing you can about it. It doesn't help when you wake up and automatically start thinking about that one person either.
I'm sorry; I know that's too much information. That's what Kenny says. He's uncomfortable talking about shit like that. All the guys talk to him about masturbation just to get a reaction from him, and he gets all shy. Its funny, we all do it. I'm sure he's done it. I'm sure Kyle's done it. Kyle probably does it a lot. I wonder if he's doing it right now.
"STAN!" My mother yells more forcefully. I heard her the first time!
Morning is the worst time of day, let me tell you. Waking up when you know you should have went to bed earlier, but you were doing stupid shit instead makes you really want to crawl inside a hole and never come out. If that hole were my bed, I'd definitely have no problem with that. The most horrible task to accomplish is literally getting out of bed. You're snuggled all nice and warm underneath your covers. It's like your own personal world under there. It's private, comfortable, and familiar. I don't know, when I leave my bed, I get sad. Mostly cause I know I won't be able to get into it until much, much later.
Football during the summer kicks my ass. I have to wake up at 5:30 to be at 6 AM morning practice, and I'm there until 9. That's on a good day. Those are primetime sleeping hours that I give up to play the addicting sport. I'm glad we're in school now. No more morning practices. And now that I'm a senior, I'll never have to deal with them EVER again! Yay!
I silently rejoice.
"Stanley Marsh, answer me this instant!"
Okay, okay mom. Don't get your panties in a bunch; I'm working on it.
I mumble something inaudibly. You must realize, for me to fully function, it's going to take me at least a half hour.
I hear her growl her morning growl. We do this every morning. She comes to my room and tries to wake me up, I fall back asleep again. I don't know why she gets angry. It happens EVERY TIME. We tried alarms. I shut them off and sleep through it. I told you, I suck in the morning.
"Stan, that is it. You need to accept some of your own responsibility, young man. I will NOT be doing this again."
She says that every morning too.
"I'm leaving, and I will not come back up here. Kenny will pick you up, and he'll just have to drag you out of bed cause I'm not doing it anymore I tell you I" and she mumbles this to herself all the way down the hallway. Oh yeah! Its Kenny's turn to pick me up today. We alternate. And he does get pissed when he has to sit in my driveway for a thousand minutes until I come out. Oh no. No no. That's me. Kenny does that to ME. He could honestly care less if I'm late. So fuck it, I'm sleeping for another twenty minutes.
Damn, it just got bright in here. I can see it through my eyelids.
HOLY SHIT! My mom just threw off all of my covers and now I'm huddling in a tight little ball for two reasons. One, its freezing in this house, and two, there is no way she wants to see what I have to hide under the covers. That would just be awkward. "MO-OM!" I whine.
"Wake UP, Stanley!" She is only half angry this time. Because something is distracting her. I think she just saw….it. That would explain why she gave me a really odd look and then speed walked out of the room. Ahahaha.
From now on, I'm using my penis as a weapon. A weapon so that she'll never do that again.
All right, enough screwing around. I screw around too much. I'm getting up, already.
As I sit up, I do my morning routine of yawns and stretches until my stomach hurts from exercising it too much. After about five minutes, I scoot over to the right side of the bed and get up. Its not like an obsession or anything, I just realized one day I always get up on the right side. Ooh the floors are freezing. I need my slippers.
That's right, I wear slippers. You got a problem with it? I didn't think so.
They are red. They match my gym shorts.
So then I go to shower, and wow, it feels amazing. There is nothing like a steamy hot shower in the morning to wake you up. Sometimes I don't get up in time, and I feel groggy all day. Kenny told me his theories on how showering is almost like taking a nap—gives you the energy you need. And now I can't get enough.
I've been here for like five minutes, and the damn thing still won't go down. And I still feel very aroused. Hey! I haven't thought about Kyle since waking up this morning. I'm doing better! Or so I think. Because now I'm thinking about him again. And now I know what I have to do…
I cry out as I shoot my release into the stream of the shower, watching it rinse down the drain. I close my eyes and breathe a sigh of relief. Yep, showers are awesome.
Getting ready has never been a chore for me. I'm not a girl, so it doesn't take me that long to decide what to wear. I usually walk to my closet, pull out one of the first things I see, which is usually a T-shirt. I like the fitted kind. They show off my sensational bod.
Haha, oh…and I wonder why I don't have a girlfriend.
It's not that I want one, really. Obviously. No, but really. I've had my fill of girls for a while. I've had two serious relationships, and they both ended really badly. I'm not one to get over things very well, and I've carried them with me throughout the years. I know I'm more mature for it, because I've learned from my mistakes. But now I honest to God don't want a relationship.
With a girl.
There's only one person that I could see myself being together with. And I really can't see myself together with him at all. Its one of those weird phenomenon, where it wouldn't be imaginable to happen until it actually happens. Then you go from there.
Man, relationships suck. I'm not a fan. At least not for a while. I've had enough bad experiences with the opposite sex to steer me clear from girls until I find one that is up to the task of figuring me out. And loves me for being as difficult and confusing and independent as I am. Only then will I start to look at this mystery girl as a potential partner.
I feel bad, because I know that there is someone out there that likes me. Matter of fact, I think she likes me a lot. Her name is Wendy, and she is one of my best friends. Probably my BEST girl friend. We hang out all the time, her, me, and Kenny. Kenny thinks she's pretty cool too, but sometimes we get the feeling she just comes places with us to be around me. No matter if she wanted to do the activity we do or not. And its not that I don't like her, cause I do. She's an awesome chick. But I just don't like her like her. Besides, we see each other at school everyday. I would hate for it to end badly and risk losing a perfectly good friend. So that's where we'll stay. Friends.
Like Kyle and me.
I hear a beep in the driveway, and I know at once that its Kenny. He doesn't even bother coming in anymore, because he knows he's just going to sit downstairs and wait for me. I'm pretty good at not being late, but when I am…I take the cake. I scurry about my bedroom, slipping on my shoes, which is an odd concept because they are sneakers. I just slip them over my heel. My mom scolded me for doing that when I was younger. "You wear them out quicker that way, Stanley," she would say. Obviously, that doesn't bother me. Then I tear my room apart looking for my books and assignments for the day. If only I were more organized, I wouldn't have to spend half the day looking for stuff I lost yesterday. You can't even look in my room without getting the urge to gag. I'm a very disorganized person. That, or I'm just too lazy to clean up after myself.
I run downstairs, hearing my stomach growl, and know I'm going to regret not eating breakfast later. I have the last lunch period of the day, and it's not until 12:30. I feel bad for the people in the first period though. They eat lunch at 10:45 in the fucking morning. By the time 3:00 rolls around, their stomachs are starting to eat out its inner lining.
Kenny is in that lunch period. So is Kyle.
I don't really see them too much during the day. I have two classes with Kenny, and one of them is study hall so we just goof off until we get reprimanded by the battle-ax with a beehive Mrs. Harper. How she is married, I will never know. The other class we have together is World Literature. I actually pay attention in that class, cause the teacher is awesome. And Kenny likes to read, so he's always inaccessible to talk to. I've never been one for reading, but I can appreciate a good book. If it weren't for Mr. James, though, I don't think that class would be worth my time.
I only have one class with Kyle, and that's Spanish. We sit next to each other on the left side of the classroom where all the windows are. Kyle doesn't really ever seem to listen, but when he's picked to answer a question, he ALWAYS knows that answer. Always. He's a fucking genius, as far as I'm concerned. I spend the period gazing dreamily at the side of his face, making mental notes of his features. He has an adorable profile. Okay, when I say I'm gazing dreamily, its not like my head-propped-on-my-knuckles-leaning-over-the-desk-drooling type of dreamily gaze. I just appreciate him. A lot.
I'm not sure if he knows how much I stare at him. Part of it is because there is nothing better to do in that lame class. But yeah, most of it is probably due to the fact I have an insane crush on that guy. I can't stop staring. He's so cute. Like a little boy. But his features are so mature. It's hard to explain.
He notices me looking at him, and sends a smile my way. This immediately ties my insides into a knot, and I freeze. Its okay though, cause the longer he returns my gaze, the more I realize he is mocking the teacher with his mouth and gesturing that he is talking too much with his hand. That was a close one. PHEW! I can breathe again.
A situation like this is not uncommon. Not by a long shot. I constantly get this overwhelming feeling that he is looking right back at me, gazing dreamily. But then I shake that thought out of my head. Its part of my optimism, and I fucking hate it. Because I'm going to be let down that much harder when that time comes and he does reject me. I try my best not to let my emotions run crazy like they did when I was little.
My friend Wendy and I used to date in grade school. And by date, I mean not talk to each other, not hang out type thing. But every time she tried to kiss me, I'd throw up all over her. It wasn't just vomit either. I went all out with the hideously gruesome upchuck sound, and I swear my puke could have won a long jump contest because it would travel far distances. I mean, this poor girl was doomed from the minute she walked in the door. When she broke up, I had the most awful time of my life up to that point, cause I realized how much I truly liked her and never showed it. Hell, I'm surprised she hung on for that long. She had to have washed her clothes, like, every day.
My first kiss was a girl named Katie who was in my sixth grade biology class. She invited me to my first co-ed birthday party, and we played spin-the-bottle. She kissed me for two seconds, and I fell head over heels in love with her. I followed her around like a lovesick puppy, leaving her notes and chocolates by her locker. She didn't really acknowledge my existence, but I still carried her books and opened the door for her and everything. One day, she turned around to me in the hallway in the middle of where all of my friends were, and screamed "STOP FOLLOWING ME AROUND STEVE! I DON'T EVEN LIKE YOU!" I cried right on the spot. She didn't even know my name, and I had just been so overcome with joy that I didn't throw up on a girl that I let my emotions and optimism cloud my judgment. That was the reason I became further mortified to talk to any kind of the female species until the beginning of my freshman year. When they lined up to date me.
I'm pretty sure it was because they saw that I was on the football team, and that I was pretty good. Football is everything to South Park. It wasn't because I was good looking or nothing. I didn't grow out of that awkward stage until sometime last year. Hell, I'm probably still in it. I sure as hell don't compare to Kenny. Wendy would tell me otherwise, but what does she know?
Okay, so I might be a little attractive. I'm not being egotistical—it's the truth. At least according to popular demand it is. Lately, when it seems that I don't care about relationships, or want a girlfriend, or even want to date, I am getting more offers than I know what do with. Kenny gets mad because he thinks that everyone likes me and no one likes him. He's retarded. Everyone likes him.
Kyle likes him. Kyle likes him a lot. Sometimes I get insanely jealous, wondering what they are doing in their classes together. Oh yeah, lunch isn't the only thing they have together. Their whole day is spent together, it seems like. And right now they are doing this history project together, where they are setting up fake interviews for people on videotape. It's a work in progress, but Kenny wants me to view it when they are all finished. I don't know if I want to. They get to spend all this time one-on-one; it would just make me sad to see what they can do together.
I know that makes me sound lower than pathetic, but there are times I truly question Kyle's intentions toward Kenny. I mean, I love Kenny; he's a great guy. Is it not too far fetched to believe that Kyle could possibly like Kenny? They do get to spend a lot of time together. Man, that would be one gigantic mess. A love triangle is something I do NOT want to be part of.
"Mr. Marsh, do you plan on continuing to day dream, or do you want to answer the question?" Mr. Jones asks me. He detests all athletes. Especially football players. I can handle him though. He's just a shrimpy little white man who doesn't know an ounce of Spanish, but claims to be down "in the hood." He says he lives in the ghetto, and talks with his hands in symbols a lot. He's just a poser who lives smack dab in the middle of South Park. I'm just waiting for him to say something bad to the wrong type of people and get beaten him up.
"I'll answer the question," I reply through gritted teeth. His face is so close to mine I can smell his sour milk and onion breath. For someone who hates football players, he sure likes to spend a lot of time up close and personal with them. I caught him the other day standing this close to this kid named Craig, when he got in trouble for the thousandth time. And Craig is not the typical punk you want to mess with. He's hardcore. He's in football because the school counselor made him complete his community service hours that way. See? I told you. Football is everything to South Park. Craig is living proof.
I hear Kyle snicker quietly beside me, and this forces a very inappropriate smile to my face. Not the time, Stan. Not when Jonesy is staring at you with his beady little coal black eyes.
I watch his eyes narrow to slivers, and I can barely see the pupil. Only two skin folds held up by his plastic-rimmed glasses. God, he's an ugly man.
"We won't have that kind of smarts in here, Mr. Marsh," he almost growls at me. Oh, I'm pissing him off. But Jesus, he is walking into these traps left and right. I am half tempted to answer him with "we don't have ANY kind of smarts in here," but I refrain. That would result with a detention slip to my face and a forceful finger pointing accusingly to my hall, signaling for me to head to the principal's office. That's the last thing I need.
Kyle looks at me with pleading eyes. Eyes that are telling me what I already know. To just back down. I sigh. "I'm sorry, Mr. Jones, it won't happen again." And like that, he walks his greasy little self to the front of the classroom to continue lecturing. I'm pretty sure that if there is such a thing as crab people, then Mr. Jones is certainly the ruler of the mouse people.
"Man, that was close," Kyle whispers to me, flashing his pearly whites. God, why does he have this to me? I don't know how much longer I can take without breaking down.
I have no choice but to smile back.
---
Nothing significant ever happens in my life. It's always the same, old, boring routine. That's the way it goes in Marsh-land here in South Park. So you can imagine my surprise when Kyle came up to me after class and asked me to hang out.
"Hey dude!" he called to me, making sure to catch up to me on my way to my locker.
As I spun around to see who was calling for me, I almost tripped on some nonexistent hole in the hallway. I am SO good at making an ass out of myself. I wait for him to walk up to me. Which he doesn't really walk, rather, he glides on a perfect cushion of air. Its not that how he walks is funny at all—its just so amazingly graceful to me when everyone else seems to just be plain walking. Kyle almost…struts his stuff. And he can pull that off. Oh, he can pull off anything.
The world seemed to stop around me to allow Kyle time to catch up. He walked up to my side, coolly, calmly.
"What are you and Kenny doing tonight?" he asked me, and inside I frowned. Again, there went that Stan-and-Kenny mentality.
Okay, yeah, so about ninety percent of my life right now is spent with Kenny. And the likelihood of us hanging out tonight is probably pretty good, but why is it that every time Kyle DOES ask me to hang out, its always me and Kenny? I'm waiting for the time when those magical words fall upon me: 'What are you doing tonight?' No Kenny. Kenny will understand. He continually claims he does not want to "interrupt" anything.
Like anything would ever actually happen. I am not Kyle's type.
I already know this, and while he told Kenny and I at once what type he was looking for so it wasn't like a letdown or anything, I still feel bummed out. Kyle told Kenny he could never date him one day when they were at lunch. Don't ask me how they got on the subject, but Kenny told me all about it later. He said that Kyle said he likes men of the same stature as Kyle (there goes my chances) and guys that have big penises. That also counts me out.
But Kyle loves dark hair. And I have dark hair. Kenny thinks that Kyle's "type" is merely a stereotypical guide to his perfect physical match. And being as incredibly awesome as he is, he thinks that Kyle would definitely be willing to look over and past that if he truly liked someone's personality. That's what I feel. I mean, Christ, my perfect physical match doesn't even have a penis. Yet, here I am. Yearning after someone who does. I never thought this would ever happen to me.
It was about this time that I realized I hadn't answered his question. "Uh, I'm not sure!" I replied honestly. I mean, I never know what's going on until it happens. Usually it's something with Kenny. Even then all we ever do is hang out at each other's houses. Sometimes we rent movies, other times we play video games. Sometimes we get stoned, other times we get drunk. Sometimes we sit and talk, other times we make out.
Haha, just kidding about that last part. Just keeping you on your toes.
"I think a couple of people are coming over. You guys can come if you want to," he said, extending the invitation to us. The package deal.
I bet the couple of people he's talking about will be Emery, Jacob, and Bebe. Emery and Jacob are two kids whose parents moved here during our town's "discovery." I like them fine, but they seem to always be around Kyle. He's never without them. I guess cause they all live in one row.
The other person that will be there will be Bebe. She's kind of the universal awesome girl of Kyle's group. Always around those three, always providing comic relief. She's cool, and I'd like to hang out with her more. Bebe does her own thing as far as I'm concerned. She and Wendy used to be as inseperable as Kyle and me, but that too, faded away. They aren't really even acquaintances anymore.
"Yeah, dude, I'll definitely be there." I always tell Kyle I'll be there, even when I have previously thought of plans. I work him in somehow. I feel horrible doing this, but I can't say no to his adorable face! I promised myself I would never ditch my friends for a girl, because its happened oh-too-often already, but Kyle is different. Cause he is one us, and it's never just us two. So I usually end up inviting Kenny anyway. And when Kyle asks Kenny to hang out, it's vice versa.
"Word," Kyle then replied to me. I always laugh to myself when he says it. It is his catch phrase. He says it all the time. And no one has said that as an expression in, like, ten years. But again, he can pull it off. Why? Cause he's Kyle Broflovski.
I smiled at him, and this was one of those times that I swear that smile on his face lasted long enough for him to look into my eyes, check out my face, nod a few times in approval, and acknowledge the environment around us after realizing how long we had been staring at each other. I hope I'm not creeping him out by just looking at him. I wonder sometimes. He's a pretty smart guy. Will he figure this whole thing out without me telling him?
"I'll just call you when I get home," I said, making my way to my locker, avoiding any awkward silence.
"Alright, man. See you then!" he said to me, and at that, he went on with his day. I watched him walk away, the hoards of people blocking the hallway seeming to part it so that he could walk down.
I felt my heart beating out of my chest. I get to hang out with him tonight! I know it's not uncommon. It seems to be happening more and more, don't make fun of me!
At least he thinks of me when he wants his friends to come over. At least he thinks of me as his friend. I've got that much to work off of.
My optimism tells me there is still hope yet. There was a slight skip in my step as I hurried to my next class of the day.
Now, its currently 4:15, and I have already called him. We get out of school at 3:00. It was hard enough for me to wait 'casually' for an hour. I am going over to his house around 7ish tonight. After his family eats dinner.
Maybe I'll be the first one there. Maybe I'll be able to confess my feelings to him. Maybe he'll embrace me in a thousand kisses, returning his feelings graciously.
I click on the T.V. and flip through the channels, anticipating every minute change on the damn clock sitting next to me. Seven o'clock cannot come fast enough.