Never Trust Your Friends: Chapter Three
Four Days until the Party…
.
It was with great trepidation that Wendy entered room 213 and took a seat after the end of classes on Tuesday. It wasn't that 213 was haunted by the spirits of oppressed and tortured American Indians. Nor was it the frequent site of ritualistic animal sacrifice. Hell, it wasn't even the secret hiding place of an escaped mass-murderer.
Which, come to think of it, was sort of strange for South Park. You would think that there would at least be a blood-crazed werewolf living in the closet or something.
Room 213 was reserved for detention after school. Needless to say, Wendy Testaburger—class president, head of the forensics team, head of the Student Council, and president of the Future Business Leaders of America—had never been in 213.
Well… unless you count Spanish class at 9:30. But that was different.
It wasn't that Wendy hadn't deserved detentions. Hell, she deserved jail time.
She was just too clever to get it.
The great majority of her teachers were under her control by some means or another. Several of them liked her. After all, she was a hard worker. She learned the material they taught, and learned it well. The problem was that she learned it too well. Better than the teachers in most cases. And Wendy was not the type of girl who let her work go to waste.
Or, more simply, she was a bit of a show off.
And, unfortunately, most teachers were not big on being corrected in the middle of their class.
That was where the extortion came in. Who knew that so many teachers in a tiny mountain town would be big into S&M, child molestation, and explicit pornography?
It was great. All she needed for a fantastic Grade Point Average was great study skills, and, when that failed, a pocket sized digital camera.
Mrs. Flarebush, though, had so far proven to be an exception. She was as hard-boiled as they come, immune to every attempt at flattery, and apparently completely free of deviancy. Go figure.
She was one of those stereotypical bitchy math teachers, who seemed to get off on bringing people down. She was stuck in this insignificant little town, and Wendy was convinced that she wanted to keep everyone else there. Why else would she be trying so hard to ruin her record, along with the other kids in her class?
How was she ever going to get into Harvard with a disciplinary record and a 3.8 GPA?
Wendy sighed as she finally pulled herself from her reflections and opened her math book. The best revenge for now was to study and make an A on the test next week.
At least until she could get access to some form of explosive.
At the front of the classroom, the door suddenly banged open. Wendy looked up, and at first thought her utter horror at the sight before her was causing her to see in slow motion.
Actually, Eric Cartman was just walking even slower than usual after jogging up the stairs.
Standing framed in the doorway, Cartman surveyed the crowded room impatiently. As his eyes found Wendy, sitting in the back and desperately trying to hide her face behind a textbook, he smirked. Then, slamming the door behind him with a resounding crash, he approached the supervising adult up front, who was looking at him with rising dread.
Cartman offered Mr. Mackey a disturbingly pleasant smile. "I'm here to serve my detention, Senor Mackey. Si bien?"
"Si bien."
Of course it wasn't the same Mr. Mackey. I mean, talk about ridiculously coincidental. Since when do elementary school guidance councilors change over to high school at the drop of a hat?
Actually, this was the elementary school Mr. Mackey's long-lost identical twin brother, Senor Pedro Mackey, who was captured by pirates when the two were babies. He had wondered the Gulf of Mexico for years before getting work as a guidance councilor and being transferred to South Park where, after an extended period of animosity in which Senor Mackey had stolen Mr. Mackey's girlfriend and briefly taken over his identity, the two had become aware of their shared parentage and reconciled.
Simple as that.
"Just a minute now, Eric, si bien? You aren't scheduled for a detention today." Senor Mackey called as Eric began to walk down the aisle to take a seat.
"If you will check your daily roster, Senor Mackey, I believe that you will find that I am in fact scheduled for detention." Cartman's eyes gleamed as he glanced in Wendy's direction. "For the duration of the week in fact."
Wendy forgot her desire to remain anonymous and groaned loudly.
"Nope," Senor Mackey said, glancing at the book. "No detention listed, so you're free to go, si bien?
Cartman's self-satisfied smirk dimmed briefly, and he muttered something about "incompetent, lame-ass Kenny" under his breath. Something about how Kenny McCormick was in one of SenorMackey's health classes with her earlier today, and actually sat right next to his desk—where he kept the detention roster—tugged at Wendy's memory, but slipped before she could make a connection.
Cartman was saying, "Look, Senor Mackey, I do have detention this week. And I will serve it. It's my duty to my school. Right?
"Now Eric, I can't give you a detention you didn't earn, si bien?
Cartman banged his fist on the councilor's desk "Damn it! You dumbass Mexican butt-fucker! You give me my damn detention before I call La Migra on your sorry ass!"
"You little son of a bitch! You sit down right now before I really get mad, si bien!"
Wendy scowled as Cartman grinned widely and began to look for a seat. She abandoned here earlier technique of hiding behind a book to duck her head beneath the table. The class was arranged in rows of tables that ran the length of the room, and it was a lot more effective means of hiding than would be afforded in an ordinary desk.
She actually though that she was going to get by with it until she heard him sit down.
In her chair.
Trapping her beneath the table.
Wendy squealed in outrage as his long legs settled, one on either side of her. She did her best not to fall down with the impact of her rage, but to no avail. She felt the cold tile floor hit her thighs and backside as she collapsed from her earlier position kneeling beneath the table. To make matters worse, she had grabbed onto one of Cartman's legs to brace herself, and he was currently smirking at her as she sat clinging to his leg with her skirt riding up to practically her hips.
Damn Bebe for telling her she should wear skirts more often.
"Well, well, well," Cartman drawled. "What have we heah? I've got a little Wendy beneath my desk!"
Wendy seethed. "Damn it, Cartman, you knew that I was here!"
"Wendy, babe, you got to stop being so paranoid. Seriously."
"Oh…" she growled. "You let me up right now."
"Who's holding ya down, bitch?" he said, swiveling inher chair to give her more room to get out.
The no-good chair-stealing bastard.
She got up, then stood there, hands on her hips, waiting for him to move. Of course, being Eric Cartman, he had no intention of doing so.
Finally, from the front, Senor Mackey called out, "Ah, Wendy, you really need to sit down during detention, si bien?
Wendy stamped her foot, "this jerk is in my seat!"
Cartman interjected, "I believe that this is my seat. I always sit here in the back so that I don't have to smell Senor Mackey's smelly unwashed European body." He added the last in a conversational tone to Wendy, who glared at him.
"I don't even know how to begin correcting the various factual and stereotypical errors in that sentence, Cartman!"
Actually, he had at least one point. Like his brother before him, Senor Mackey did have a definite funk about him.
"Wendy," Senor Mackey sighed from the front of the room. "Just sit down in the seat next to Cartman."
Wendy ground out, "I. Will. Not. Just look! All of my books are there! It's my seat!"
"Problem easily solved, ho." Cartman shoved her books over, nearly knocking them off the table in the process.
Senor Mackey stood up, one hand to his face as if fighting off a headache. "Just sit down, si bien!"
Wendy plopped down in the hard plastic chair hastily, and Cartman glared to the front of the room. "No need to get so cranky about it, dude." But he said it quietly, so only Wendy could hear.
"No kidding!" she said, equally softly, leaning towards him so that no one else would hear. "We were just having a simple conversation."
...
Kyle entered his house through the front door, dropping his books on the couch near the entrance. The fact that his mother had a rule against leaving things lying on the couch didn't stop him as he made his way up to his bedroom. He sighed as he flopped down on the perfectly made bed.
He was so sick of following everybody's stupid rules.
Suddenly, determinedly, Kyle came to his feet. He surveyed the ridiculously clean room with distaste. The perfectly arranged desk, the stupid Einstein poster, the Periodic Table over in the corner… none of it was his idea. None of it was him.
Systematically, he made his way around the room. First, he tore down the posters. Then came the bed sheets, which he ripped off and left laying in the middle of the floor. So on and so on he went, laying his room to ruin.
Finally, breathing heavily, he collapsed at the desk with his head cushioned on his closed laptop and slowly began coming back to his senses. He lifted his head reluctantly and surveyed the wreck that was his room. Sweet Moses, his mother was going to freak when she saw this.
If he at least had a decent excuse, he wouldn't feel so stupid. The only excuse that he had was that it had been a bad day.
Big deal. He'd been having these sort of bad days since he was fourteen.
In his defense, though, he didn't think any of them had been this bad.
Stan had been acting so damn weird all week. His behavior yesterday at the cafeteria table had been one of the milder examples. Alternating between avoiding him and losing his temper for the least little things—nothing in most cases—he had been making his best friend's life miserable.
His life. That was such a freaking joke. His life basically consisted of one lie built upon another, and he didn't know how much more of this he could take.
Sometimes he wondered what would happen if he just let it slip.
Just let everyone know.
For a moment, it seemed so tempting. Why not? What was the worst that could happen? His mother would lose it, that was a given. But, really, his mother was constantly pissed at him for some reason or another.
Things at school couldn't be that different. He wasn't what you would call popular. In the town that he lived in, a boy's popularity was measured by his athletic ability.
Or lack thereof.
Besides that, what did he care about popularity? He would be graduating soon. Even if he wasn't, what did he care? He didn't need anyone's friendship but Stan's—
And therein laid the rub.
Because he was not at all sure how Stan would react to…it. Not at all.
He could handle losing his parent's support, he could handle losing a few friends…but he couldn't handle losing Stan.
He laid his head back down, and winced as he heard his mother begin to come up the stairs.
...
Notes: Whew! I just wrote that all at once, and now I'm freaking exhausted. I hope that you guys all liked it! Hey, know what's a good way to let me know? Well, if you look in the lower left corner there's a little box… click it and leave me a review!
natures candy
Hehe, this made me laugh.
DewkOfHazard
Thanks!
Coffeey
Does this chapter answer your question about Kyle ; )
Rakal
Yeah, I'm trying to keep the SP spirit alive and well in this story. Except for Kenny. He's fair game for mayhem and destruction ; )
WolfBane2
Glad you like it! And nice to know that you agree with my couples, too!
BlackNeonTears
Thanks!
Mina-chan
Thanks!
BroflovskiFan
Thanks!
Brat-Child3
I was so happy to see your review! I love your stories, and I've read your book! I actually took some of your s/k comments into account when I was writing Kyle's personality—you will see more of that in the next few chapters.
If you like my style, I LOVE yours!
Seaouryou
I'm so glad that you liked the K/B. I wasn't sure if people would go for it, but I love them! Actually, they were one of the most fun parts to write in chapter 2.
I am having so much fun trying to keep Cartman in character. He's such a jackass, I love writing him.
Thanks so much for your review, and can I just say that I am still absolutely in love with your newest SP fic?
