Important Note- Please Read:

Just so you all will know, this is the week before final exams at my college. Because I will be finishing up assignments and studying virtually non-stop until they are over, you may not see the next update for a while. I am hoping to get a chapter up next weekend, but it will be something of a miracle if I do. However, with the help of reviews, anything is possible: )


Chapter Four


Three Days until the Party…


Any hope that Kyle had of Stan being back to normal Wednesday was shot as soon as he saw his friend, leaning against his locker with his hat balled up in his hands. Every time that Stan was freaking out about something, he removed that stupid blue hat--the same kind that he'd been wearing since Elementary School--and essentially strangled it. Kyle winced as one particularly vigorous squeeze from Stan sent the little red poof-ball sailing across the room. Stan must have at least a dozen of those hats stuffed in the top of his closet, but he happened to know that the one he had just maimed was his favorite—that he himself had given him.

He'd had his grandmother embroider his initials onto the inside band and everything.

Needless to say, it was not with a lot of enthusiasm that he greeted his friend. Stan grinned when he caught sight of him, but it was that somewhat manic grin that he displayed whenever he was in one of his little moods, and trying to pretend that he wasn't. Then a ridiculously panicked look crossed his face, and he spun around to covertly 'sneak' the damaged hat into his locker, underneath what appeared to be at least a year's worth of Sports Illustrated magazines.

Kyle rolled his eyes. As if he was fooling anybody.

He turned around without speaking beyond his initial 'hello' and began the short walk to their first class, knowing without looking that his friend would fall into step beside him. He had done so for the last seven years, after all.

But, when he finally decided that enough was enough and turned to ask about Stan's latest session of football practice, he was somehow not surprised to see only Butters, humming under his breath and grinning cheerfully at him.

If he had looked back, he would have seen Stan sprinting towards the Home Ec room, desperate to borrow a needle and thread before the late bell rang. Instead, he just sighed.

"Hey Stan!" Butters exclaimed. "How are you today?"

That was at least one good thing about talking to Butters. He always made you feel welcome.

Kyle managed a smile in return, but it sort of lost its effect when he promptly sighed again and looked down at his feet.

Butters laid a comforting (or so he thought—really it was just sort of annoying) hand on his shoulder and asked, in a voice that Kyle personally found way to audible for his peace of mind, "having trouble with Stan?"

Butters was one of the few kids in South Park who shared his…situation. As such, he had taken to following him around, attempting to commiserate with him.

God, it was irritating.

How he had ever found out was beyond him as well. The only other person who knew had assured him she hadn't let it slip, and then lectured him for a good thirty minutes on what an insensitive, untrusting ass he was to even suggest it. The only solution that he'd been able to come up with was that Butters was equipped with a radar. Or a… he stopped himself before the irritating expression could be completed.

There was really no need to go there.

Radar or no, Butters was easily distracted from his prying with a mention of musical theatre, and he spent the entire walk to class droning on about the newest adaptations of Rogers and Hammerstein.

As he finally sank into his desk up front, it was all that Kyle could do not to moan. God, where were Stan and his virtually incomprehensible yet entertaining descriptions of football plays when he needed them?


"So then I said, 'well, if you want me to do that, you're going to have to really give me something awesome in exchange.' And so, he, like, starts kissing down my body—"

"Bebe!"

"What? God, you're so weird. Anyway, as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted…"

Wendy buried her significantly flushed face in her hands, trying desperately to avoid hearing the conclusion. God, that was sick.

She had at first been sort of glad to find out that Bebe had a detention today. She had figured that, even if she had to change the subject at least fifty times in order to avoid questions about Stan that she really didn't want to answer, at least she would have someone better to talk to than Eric Cartman. After about twenty minutes of totally unnecessary details about Bebe's sex life, and mental pictures of Kenny McCormick that she feared she would never be able to banish, she was reconsidering.

Cartman may be a racist, sexist, utter and complete jerk-face, but at least his attempts at conversation yesterday had been mildly entertaining. For example, she had to admit that he had a good point about Ms. Flarebush having the legs of a hairy rhinoceros who was retaining too much water.

And at least she hadn't spent the majority of detention yesterday worrying about what the other students would overhear, and praying for the ground to open up and swallow her whole. When she was arguing with Cartman, she didn't really notice other people. It was just the two of them, in an epic struggle for superiority that other people had absolutely no place or importance in.

With Bebe…not so much.

Speaking of Bebe, she was asking her something. Wendy looked away from staring at the door and asked her to repeat herself.

"I said" Bebe exclaimed, "why are you ignoring me and staring at the freaking door?"

"One: I'm ignoring you because I really don't want to know what kind of tattoo Kenny has on his ass. Two: I'm not staring at the door," She said, flipping her hair and giving Bebe her best superior glare.

Then she went back to staring at the door.

"Hmm."

"What was that?" Wendy asked with great suspicion. She hated when Bebe made that stupid noise. It always meant that she thought she knew something.

"Oh, nothing," her friend said, closely examining her polished nails for potential chips. "I was just wondering where the other students are."

"Senor Mackey sent Cartman and the other guys to the library for the first hour. Then we're going to go for the next hour, after they get back."

"Probably just trying to avoid another of those grand struggles for dominance between you and the fat boy."

"God, Bebe," Wendy cried, slamming the book that she'd been trying to study for the last forty minutes closed. "Why do you have to make fun of people for being fat? Not all of us can look like a damned swimsuit model, okay?"

"Hmm."

She was this close to strangling her. "What now?" She gritted out between tightly clenched teeth.

"Oh, nothing." Whenever Bebe said 'nothing' like that, you could bet that there was a 'something' behind it.

"You know that you have something to say. Just freaking come out and say it."

"Well," Bebe sighed, pretending to be put upon. "I just think it's strange that you're coming to the defense of someone that hates you almost as much as you hate him."

Wendy snorted. "I wasn't defending him."

"Oh, please."

"Well," she retorted. "I wasn't defending just him. I could stand to lose a few pounds too, you know. And I get sick of you being all superior just because you're built like Pam Anderson."

"What, this?" Bebe giggled, gesturing at her narrow waist. "That's easy! Want to know my secret?"

"Absolutely not."

Bebe went on as if she hadn't heard. "Lots and lots of wild, rambunctious sex."

"Excuse me while I go hang myself."

"Wendy, I am totally serious. Do you have any idea how many calories you burn in one thirty minute session?"

"Do you?"

"Well… no." She looked vaguely put out. "But…it's a lot!"

"I'm so sure."

"Really, and talk about a fun way to lose weight. You know, you should try it some time," Bebe smirked, and Wendy once again fought the urge to stab her in the eye with a pencil.

"Gee, I am so surprised that this came up. Never would have predicted it in a million years." Here it came. What she'd beenworking atavoiding for half the year.

"Wendy, I'm talking serious here. I really want to know, and I'm asking you as a friend. When was the last time that you so much as kissed Stan?"

"God! Why can't you just leave me alone about Stan?"

"Answer the question, Wendy."

"No. And for your information, just because I don't like to spend a lot of time doing something that isn't even all that fun, does not mean that I am in a bad relationship," Wendy fumed, opening her text back up and flipping through it for page 197.

Beside her, Bebe was staring at her wide-eyed. "Not…fun? You don't think that kissing is fun?"

She slammed the book. "Look, Bebe, some of us just aren't all that sexual, alright? It doesn't mean that we can't still live perfectly normal lives with our perfectly normal boyfriends!" She opened the book again.

"Wendy, in case you hadn't noticed… you're not all that normal. And stop playing with that stupid book!" she grabbed it and tossed it over her shoulder.

"Hey!" Wendy said in unison with some random girl sitting behind her, who had been hit in the face with the book. She turned around to glare at her, "Give me my book back right now!"

"Do I look like I want your book, you freaking bitch?" The girl replied, rubbing earnestly at the bridge of her nose.

Wendy's eyes began to glow with what some had compared to blue hellfire. "What did you just call me, you insignificant little toad!"

The girl virtually quaked in her seat. "Nothing! Here's your book!" She actually wiped it down with the tail of her baggy pink T-shirt before handing it back.

"That's exactly what I thought." Wendy sniffed disdainfully, examining her book for damage.

Beside her, Bebe was shaking her head in disbelief. "You see? This sort of thing is precisely what I was talking about."

"What?" Wendy asked, some of her anger extinguished after finding her text to be scuff-free.

"This! That! Normal people do not have the power to reduce perfectly healthy individuals to silly putty with one look!"

"Now you're just being ridiculous," Wendy snorted.

"Look, all I'm saying is that someone able to turn a perfectly normal person into…well…that!" she gestured at the girl in the pink shirt, now pale and hunched down in her seat, clutching her small cross necklace in both hands. "Should not have any trouble having passionate sex! Dude, you've got, like, a freaking volcano hovering just beneath the surface in there." She tapped her on the head, and ducked as Wendy sent a pencil flying at her face. Then she grinned. "Thank you for further proving my point."

Wendy groaned, rolling her eyes back so far that Bebe was half-way afraid they'd get stuck that way. "Was there anything else you wanted to say? Because I'd rather you get it all out so that this conversation can die out here and now."

"As a matter of fact, yes! And I'm being your friend when I say this, Wendy. You need to stop pretending to be satisfied with Stan. Sure, he's a nice guy, but if there's no physical attraction there's no relationship!"

"Sounds like one of your mottos," Wendy muttered. This conversation was hitting entirely too close to home.

"I'm serious! You are not the type of girl who can be satisfied with a nice, normal guy. You need someone bold. Someone who takes what he wants, no questions asked! Someone who isn't going to just lie down and let you push him around! Someone like… Like…"

Wendy banged her fist on the desk. "Oh, would you just cut your melodramatic crap and spit it out! Like who?"

"Like…"

"Eric Cartman!" Senor Mackey shouted. "You stop clogging up the doorway, si bien?"

"I'll move when I'm good and ready to move, damn it!" Cartman yelled. Then he moved.

Bebe, for once struck silent, eyed him speculatively as he made his way down the aisle. He glared at her when he noted she had taken his seat while he was gone. He had gotten here early to get that seat.

However, one look at Wendy, obviously fuming, was enough to convince him that now was not the time. He wasn't afraid of the bitch, but any master knew that the key to a hostile take-over was to pick your battles. He had made significant progress yesterday. Now was not the time to jeopardize his mission.

Plus, there was a seat free with a decent view of her face. Wendy's face when she was in one of her psychotically scary moods was hotter than anything he'd ever seen in any of Kenny's dirty magazines.

Unfortunately, before he'd been able to watch for more than ten minutes, even, Senor Mackey ordered all of the girls to the library.

Damned Mexican.

Hastily, he stood. "Senor Mackey! Senor Mackey! I left my book in the library!"

Mackey sighed. "Eric, you only looked at one book, si bien? I know, because I watched you systematically destroy it, and then made you pay for it. It's sitting right in front of you."

"But I need another book, Senor Mackey," he whined.

"Eric, I only have seven hall passes left, si bien. And there are seven girls," he said, somewhat desperately.

"Senor Mackey," Bebe piped up from her seat beside Wendy, who appeared slightly calmer at the prospect of the library. Being surrounded by books had a strangely calming effect upon her, Bebe had noticed. Virgins were so weird. "Cartman can have my pass."

He just shook his head, obviously feeling another migraine coming on. "Si bien." At least there would be some peace and quiet around here again. Let the librarian deal with those two little freaks. Suddenly, he smirked.

Bebe smirked.

Cartman smirked.

Wendy even smirked. She wasn't sure why…but what the hell?


Additional Notes: I promise there will be more action in the next update. I just thought this sort-of transitional chapter was necessary to show where everyone's head is at right now. Wendy's so deep in denial she can hardly breathe, Stan is so confused he doesn't know what the hell he's doing, and let's just say that even I want to kick his ass for what he's putting Kyle through. Poor Kyle.

Please review! It helps me write faster!


Thanks to:

Lilchicky004

I feel the Kenny/Butters love, too. But if you're going to do Kenny het, I'm all about Bebe. They're just hilarious to me.

Thanks for the comments!

ahhelga

Thanks Pauline! To think, I nearly didn't use Senor Mackey. I thought it might be too cheesy. Glad that I went with him, as he seems to be quite popular!

I'm glad that I made you laugh. Angst is fine, but humor is my favorite thing to do:)

Coffeey

Glad you liked Senor Mackey. I just couldn't help putting him in this chapter too, though I'm going to try to avoid over-using him. Don't want to kill the joke:)

I was really psyched that you like my Cartman characterization. I've been worried about that... Man, it's hard to keep a racist asshole sympathetic! And really, what does it say about me that he's my favorite character?

Rakal

Aww, you really had me grinning with this one. I'm glad you like the style of the story. I've been worried about keeping the balance, and I'm glad that you think I'm pulling it off:)

TweekFan

Thanks! About Stan and Kyle, I'm really feeling sorry for Kyle right now. Stan's being so insensitive. Sure, he's going through a lot, but doesn't he see what it's doing to his best friend?

Hehe, sorry. I wonder if I may be getting a little overly involved in this storyline. Consider it incentive for me to update faster. I've got to help poor Kyle out!

Broken-SilverWings

I am loving writing the C/W stuff. It's just so much fun, and it's actually coming a lot easier than I thought.

Thank you for reviewing!

Mina-chan

Hehe, Cartman is fun to write. Everyone else, I pretty much have to plan it out. Cartman just does what he wants.

And yes, I agree. There's some definite gayness going on lately.

Seaouryou

Aww, favorites! I love it!

I know what you mean about the snarkiness. I must have seen the flag episode at least a dozen times, just for that:)

Thanks for reviewing! Take care.