Ch 3
It was December now and as time went on Kyle seemed to become more and more distant from his friends, Stan especially. He didn't call him (Stan) anymore and when Stan tried to call him he didn't answer. He also seemed to ignore Stan's texts and e-mails. Eventually they stopped hanging out after school and he stopped attending Stan's football games, which were extremely important to him. It was now to the point where Kyle rarely sat with his friends at lunch. Today at lunch Butters was sitting with Stan, Cartman and Kenny. It was silent until Stan piped up, unable to take it anymore.
"Butters?" asked Stan. "You're in Kyle's Biology and Chemistry classes right?"
"Just his Bio class," explained Butters. "I dropped out of Chem. Boy I sure was no good at that, w-why I'm surprised my parents didn't ground me."
"'Kay," continued Stan impatiantly. "Well do you know what's been up his ass lately? Do you still talk to him at all?"
"Stan, I've told you this 1000 times bro," said Cartman cutting in. "There's nothing up his ass, he just has some sand in his vagina."
"Goddammit, shut up Cartman," said Kenny.
"W-well only sometimes," said Butters, ignoring Cartman's comment. "I only usually talk to him during labs. H-he doesn't seem to talk very much anymore. Boy, he seems sad too… well I even saw him with the Goth kids last week I think."
Stan spit the juice he was drinking across the table.
"GROSS, STAN! WEAK!" Screamed Cartman, wiping his face off with a napkin.
"T-he Goth kids?!" asked Stan, "What the fuck! Butters, do you know where they eat lunch?"
"Hmmm…" thought Butters, "I think I saw them eating on the bleachers on the football field. Yup, if I had one guess I'd say that's where they eat lunch all right."
Stan quickly got up and made his way towards the football field. He was upset beyond belief.
"How dare he eat lunch with those fuckers and not me!" he muttered under his breath in jealousy, "He's mine!"
Stan knew that that sounded totally retarded but he really, really did like Kyle, and watching him drift away was becoming unbearable. He missed those nights where Kyle would climb into his window and spend the night just because. He missed those weekend videogame marathons they used to have and those hour long phone calls almost every night. He missed Kyle's laugh and their adventures. He missed their sledding and their wrestling matches in the snow. He missed Kyle's Judaism… he missed Kyle.
Stan walked faster and faster until he came to the football field. He saw the Goth kids, right where Butters said he had seen them. There were six of them and Stan recognized three from the brief time he'd spent with them way back in the fourth grade. As Stan walked closer he recognized a fourth member of the Goth group, it was Kyle. He had on black pants, a black shirt, black sneakers, black eyeliner, and a black ushanka replaced he usual green one. (His wild red hair stuck out at all angles, like usual.) Stan looked closer and noticed that Kyle had a shinny thing on the left side of his lip.
"A-A LIP RING??" stated Stan to no one. "Did he seriously change that much over the weekend?"
He walked over to them, noticing that they were passing around a doobie. Stan's jaw dropped. Drugs were something that Kyle never did… except for that one time when he moved to San Francisco and tried acid… or that other time when they all drank a shitload of cough medicine to come up with ideas for their news show, but that's beside the point.
"Kyle!" shouted Stan.
Kyle looked down from the bleachers to find a very angry Stan looking back at him.
"What do you want you stupid conformist?" asked one of the Goth kids.
"To speak with Kyle!" screamed Stan. "Mind your own damn business!"
Kyle rolled his eyes, took a drag off the joint, passed it and then jumped down.
"Be back in a minute," he told the others, annoyed. "What do you want Stan?"
"Dude!" yelled Stan. "What the fuck!"
"What are you going on about?"
Stan grabbed hold of Kyle's arm and walked him behind the bleachers, out of ear range so they'd have some privacy.
"What do you want Stan?" Kyle asked again. "I'm busy."
Stan didn't really know how to handle the situation. He and Kyle had been best friends since they were in pre-school, nothing like this had ever happened before.
"Kyle, what the hell is wrong with you?"
"Nothing, this is me."
"Right, except it's not."
"Yes, it is."
"No… it's not."
"Yes, it is!"
"My Kyle doesn't do drugs, skip out on his best-friend and dress like a complete douche bag!"
Kyle gritted his teeth.
"I'm not yours, Stan. I never was. Are you gay or something??"
Stan tried not to blush, telling himself that Kyle was just trying to piss him off, not actually trying to call him out.
"You know what I mean Ky! What the fuck's up with you? I thought we were best-friends. Why did you stop talking to me…and all our other friends? What did we do to you? What did I do to you?"
"More than I can express you fucking asshole! Get away from me!"
Kyle started walking away but Stan wasn't going to have that. Although the two of them were pretty much the same height, Stan had a strength advantage from all the football practices and working out. He had to stay in shape to be on top for the season. He grabbed Kyle by the back of his shirt, spun him around and shoved him against the back of the bleachers, pinning his arms to his sides.
"Let me go you fucking prick!" yelled Kyle, squiring, trying to get away.
"NO!" screamed Stan, not letting up. "What did you mean by 'more than you can express'!"
"…"
"Answer me you fucking Jew!!"
Kyle was shocked by that remark and the overall anger Stan was generating. He'd never seen him like this before and it was a bit frightening for him.
"L-look… I didn't mean that… I just shot my mouth off without thinking. The whole group, I just feel like you're… holding me back."
"WHAT? Oh, and these fucking Goth pansies aren't? What's wrong with you? Why did you suddenly up and leave us… seriously?"
"…"
"Arggg!"
"Please Stan," whispered Kyle, not looking directly at him. "I don't want to get into this. Like I said before, this is nothing you should concern yourself with. Just leave me alone. I don't want to bring you down…"
Stan was confused and angry. Kyle was lying to him, he could tell. He was saying one thing and then another and wasn't making any sense at all. Stan figured it was due to the weed he had just finished smoking.
"Whatever Kyle," said Stan, finished.
He wasn't going to get anything out of him. He shoved him once more and then walked off, hands in his coat pockets, leaving a very sore and even more depressed Kyle behind him.
"More than he can express? Holding him back? Bringing me down? Nothing to concern myself with? Fucking gibberish! High druggy basterd…"