A/N: Hi everyone! Thanks for all of the feedback so far, keep it coming

A side note about this story-all chapter titles will be song titles. Most will have something to do with the content of the chapter. I don't own South Park or patd.

Enjoy!

Your eyes are the size of the moon

You could, cause you can, so you do

We're feelin' so good, just the way that we do…

Chapter 2

Nine in the Afternoon

The first day of school was finally over and 'not a total bust either' Cartman thought, lighting a cigarette as he sat down on one of the picnic benches in the courtyard. He watched the flood of students separate as they exited the building; underclassman to the busses and upperclassmen to the parking lot. This was his favorite part of the day, watching freshman girls walk to the bus as he enjoyed his after school cig. On a good day, he would give a cute one or two a ride home.

He winked at a dark haired freshman who—God bless her—was wearing a black miniskirt with leggings and a form fitting blouse that revealed the perfect amount of cleavage. She caught his eye and giggled. 'Bingo' He took another drag from his cigarette as he eyed her intently, daring her to approach.

But the girl seemed torn and after a few moments she shrugged, giving into her friend and following her towards the busses. Cartman nodded lightly in her direction and she blushed before turning away. He didn't mind the momentary rejection. She'd come back, they always did. Besides, he greatly enjoyed watching the sway of her curvy hips as she walked away. The girl turned around again, checking to see that he was still watching.

He grinned. She would definitely come back.

He turned his gaze to the parking lot and saw Stan and Kyle heading towards the parking lot together. It was almost laughable. How was he the only one who saw it? Marsh and Broflovski were practically holding hands they were walking so close.

"Pussies." He muttered. If they would just hurry up and suck each other's dicks already then everyone could move on with their lives, and Wendy—

Cartman frowned. 'Where the fuck are you going, dumbass?' He thought as Stan pulled out of the student parking lot with Kyle in the passenger seat. He groaned. Stan had forgotten about Wendy. Of course.

Cartman looked at his watch and thought for a moment. There was no football practice tonight, but he had wanted to catch that special that the history channel was giving on Hitler…

"God damn it…" He sighed, grabbing his back pack and heading back into the school.

"Alright gang, I'm not here to fill your head with all of that 'Welcome back to school' bullshit, we have a paper to get out." Mr. Rowe started. "Rich, what do you have for me?"

If Stan was the all-American football star, Rich was surely the inspirational future politician who would rise from small town obscurity. Rich Williamson was the blond haired, blue eyed dream child who got whatever he wanted. He had wanted Felicia Robbins, the cheerleading captain, and he had gotten her. He had wanted to be senior class president and editor of the school newspaper. Three for three, or more likely, 'A thousand for a thousand…' Wendy thought.

He was nice enough to Wendy and in fact, had very similar ambitions, but she always held a disdain for kids who got whatever they wanted without earning it. Like Cartman. Wendy closed her eyes momentarily, trying to purge her thoughts of that fat bastard.

'Well fat is a bit of a stretch these days.' Wendy amended. But it certainly didn't excuse his behavior. 'Ugh…' It made her head hurt just thinking about it. It had been excruciating having to sit next to him in English this morning, with his snide comments disrupting her usually spot-on focus. No, she had way too much going on this semester. She could not afford to let Eric Cartman distract her.

"Okay, features. Who's got ideas?" Rowe was saying when she snapped herself out of her thoughts. Wendy quickly raised her hand along with a few others. "Go." Rowe said, nodding at a senior staff writer without a glance at Wendy.

"I was thinking about doing a piece on the football team, there's been a lot of hype since training this summer and depending on the outcome of this weeks' game…"

"I'll think about it." Rowe said. "Next?" And one by one, he went through everyone's suggestion, passing over Wendy as though he didn't see her. "Pathetic." He said at the last idea. "Honestly, do you kids even have any idea what it means to be a reporter?" Wendy took a deep breath. If he wasn't going to call on her, it was now or never.

"The election!" Wendy called out. The room turned to look at her, including Rowe.

"What was that?"

"Mayor McDaniels is up for reelection this year and I thought I could do a piece on that. The debate team was even discussing—" Wendy started.

"Mayor McDaniels runs unopposed every year." Rowe interrupted her, waving his hand dismissively.

"But this year—"

"You kids are going to have to do better than this!" Rowe continued, addressing the whole staff. "Nobody cares about this fluff! Astrological signs, gossip! Worthless, all of it!" He slammed his hand down on a desk for effect.

"What about Occupy South Park?" Said a voice from the back of the room. Everyone turned to see Eric Cartman leaning casually in the doorway. Wendy felt her face burning as she made eye contact with him. He winked at her. 'What the fuck is he doing here?'

"Excuse me?"

"The Occupy South Park movement." Cartman repeated. "Those stupid hippies from Wall Street are spreading their bullshit everywhere and now people are talking about doing that here. You haven't heard about it?"

"I can't say that I have." Rowe said with a frown.

"I guess that's no surprise. My source doesn't want it getting out that he's involved just yet. He wants to wait until they're 'more organized' or whatever."

"What's your name kid?" Wendy whirled around to look at her teacher. No way. He wasn't actually considering Cartman's idea, was he?

"Eric Cartman, sir." He said, stepping further into the room. Wendy glared at him. He was up to something, she just knew it. "And I would love to talk to you about joining the writing staff." He continued, looking straight at Wendy. Rowe paused for a moment, considering Cartman's proposal.

"Dismissed." He said, waving his hand and heading behind his desk. As the rest of the kids shuffled around getting their things together, Rowe looked at Cartman. "Over here, kid."

With a gloating smirk, Cartman breezed past Wendy on his way to Rowe's desk. "Guess it wasn't too hard after all." He said with a smile.

Something in Wendy snapped. This fat asshole was not about to waltz in here and land a features job on a whim. She slammed her notebook down and rushed past Cartman to Rowe's desk.

"Mr. Rowe, this isn't fair. I've been on staff for two years working my ass off trying to get a story, but you've been sticking me with taking pictures for the gossip column! Cartman doesn't care about this newspaper, he's just trying to be a dick. If anyone deserves that story, it's me!" Wendy got out all in one breath.

"Hey!" Cartman said. "It was my idea you dumb bitch!"

"Don't call me a bitch, Cartman. You know it's true! What are you even doing here? Don't you have some white supremacist meeting to lead or something?" Wendy snapped back at him.

"Shut up!" Mr. Rowe interrupted them. Wendy and Cartman stood quietly glaring at each other, waiting for his reaction. "Testaburger, you have a point." He said slowly. Wendy smiled triumphantly. "And I must say I'm impressed at the gumption you've showed. I didn't think you had it in you. However…"

Mr. Rowe looked over the kids standing in front of him. He had never seen such venomous looks passed between two colleagues and it intrigued him. He knew Wendy was a talented girl, but she was too…well, nice for the world of journalism. Cartman on the other hand exuded a confidence in his very stride and it was that quality that would make him successful.

"Testaburger, I'm going to give you a chance to prove yourself." He said finally. Wendy breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank you so much, sir! I—"

"You will write the football article and if it's any good we can talk about more stories. Cartman, start looking into the Occupy South Park movement—"

"What!" Wendy shouted.

"Sweet." Cartman said with a pointed grin in Wendy's direction.

"In the meantime," Rowe raised his voice to silence them. "Wendy, you show Cartman the basics of that camera. We may need a new photographer if your story works out." Cartman and Wendy stood in a stunned silence for a few moments.

"But—" Wendy opened her mouth to protest.

"Take it or leave it, Testaburger." Rowe challenged her, looking her straight in the eye.

Wendy felt an odd sense of pressure as Rowe looked into her eyes—something he had never done before. She looked over at Cartman who had shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and was frowning at the floor. Was it worth it? She knew he wasn't all bad at collecting and analyzing research as they'd once been on the same side of a debate, though that had been all but a fluke. And he was a solid writer at least…maybe, just maybe…

"Well?" She ventured timidly. Cartman looked up at her and Wendy saw a look on his face that she couldn't quite describe.

"Fine." He said quickly, looking away.

"Good then." Rowe said dismissively.

Without a word Cartman and Wendy turned and headed for the door. "You better not fuck this up for me, Cartman." Wendy muttered under her breath.

"We'll see, bitch."

Tim Rowe looked up from his newspaper to watch the awkward pair shuffle their way out of the room. Cartman reached the door first and pulled it open, exiting first and allowing the door to close partially behind him before Wendy reached it. She scoffed in disgust at the boy's lack of manners. Rowe just shook his head and turned back to his paperwork.

"Fuckin' kids." He muttered.

"You are such an asshole, Cartman. The newspaper was my thing. Mine!" Wendy said once she had closed Mr. Rowe's classroom door behind her.

"Hey, don't get mad at me cause you were never able to come up with any interesting ideas."

"Ugh, just shut up, Cartman. I can't even talk to you right now!" Wendy said, fumbling with the objects in her purse trying to find her cell phone. She finally grasped it and attempted to pull it out of her large bag but it was entangled in her headphones and it slipped out of her hand and sent the entire clump of electronics to the ground. "ARGH GOD DAMN IT!" She shouted, throwing her purse to the ground in frustration.

She turned away to catch her breath and Cartman stared in awe at her back. He hadn't seen Wendy this worked up since fourth grade. She always remained calm and composed, no matter how cruel or racist or sometimes downright evil he had been. He fidgeted awkwardly for a moment before kneeling down and picking up the tangled mess.

Wendy turned around to find him replacing the battery in her phone and carefully snapping the back of the phone into place. He avoided her eyes, unsure of what to say as he handed it back to her.

"Uh…here."

"T…thanks." Wendy stammered at the sudden change in the air. She turned her phone on and scrolled through her inbox and missed calls, looking for a message from Stan, but found nothing.

Cartman and Wendy kept an awkward pace as they headed for the same exit. He also, had dug out his iPhone to avoid the tense silence.

"Hey Stan, it's me. I'm out of the meeting and I'm not seeing your car out here. Give me a call. Love you, bye." Wendy said quietly. She couldn't explain why she felt the need to say it as quietly as possible to prevent Cartman from hearing the simple message.

She flipped her phone closed and turned to see Cartman sitting on top of one of the school picnic benches, smoking a cigarette. She checked her phone again for any word from Stan. Nothing.

"Mind if I sit?" She asked. Cartman shrugged and scooted over, but she purposely sat on the lower level, setting her stuff on the ground. He smirked at her small statement. "You're not allowed to smoke on school property." She said only half sternly after a moment. Cartman let out a puff of smoke in her direction. "They're also really bad for you, you know."

"I know. They're awesome, want one?" He held the pack out to her. She shook her head.

"No thanks."

Cartman shrugged and put them back in his jacket pocket. They sat quietly on the bench, listening only to the rustle of the early fall breeze as it pushed leaves and a few pieces of trash along the nearly empty student parking lot. Wendy checked her phone every thirty seconds or so, wondering what was taking Stan so long.

Out of the corner of her eye, she looked at Cartman. He looked very relaxed as he gazed upon the empty parking lot with a serenity that she'd never seen on his face before. She was surprised to see that when he wasn't frowning or sporting his obnoxious smirk, he wasn't so unattractive.

"What, bitch?" He asked, causing her to flush slightly at being caught staring at him.

"Why are you doing this? Really?" He shrugged.

"I didn't have anything better to do today." He said, his smirk returning. She glared at him.

"You're such a dick."

"Fuck you. It worked didn't it?"

"What are you talking about?" She demanded.

"The story. Rowe gave you an assignment. You never would have gotten in his face if it hadn't been for me. He said so himself—he didn't think you had it in you, but he doesn't know you like I do."

"Oh so I suppose you think you did me a favor?"

"I guess you could say I did do you a favor." He said.

"Fuck you, Cartman."

"Mmm…pass. Thanks, though." He said, hopping down off of the bench. "Later, ho." He snickered as he left her fuming on the bench.

That had gone better than he thought. He had fully expected Rowe to tell him to fuck off, but no, the fucker had actually put him on an assignment. Here he was, now presented with multiple opportunities to fuck with Wendy. And that was just way too fun to pass up.

He tossed his backpack into the back seat of his car and slammed the door shut. He was about to get in the car when he happened to glance back to where Wendy was sitting along at the bench. She was looking over at the main road, searching for any sign of Stan's car. A few seconds later she flipped open her phone again, only to close it, disappointed.

Cartman sighed and got into his car. He stared at the empty spot in front of him for a few moments before pulling out his cell phone to text Stan. 'Hey dude, what're you up to?' He hit send and tossed his phone into the passenger seat, feeling stupid for even bothering. He looked over at Wendy again, then back to the empty parking space ahead of him.

"Ah fuck it, she's not my problem." He said, turning the keys in his ignition. As he put his car into gear, his phone buzzed. He reached over and flipped it open. 'Hanging out at Kyle's. What's up?' Cartman smirked. That asshole had completely forgotten Wendy. He was content to sit all day ignoring his girlfriend's texts and calls to hang out with his best friend. He shook his head.

'What a dick.' He thought, looking back to Wendy. She looked so cold and disappointed and just…pathetic sitting there waiting for him like that.

"God damn it…" He put his car in drive and pulled up in front of Wendy. "Get in, ho." He said, unlocking the door. Wendy looked at him, surprised.

"Oh, um…Stan's coming to get me."

"He texted you?" Cartman asked.

"Well no, not yet, but he said he'd—"

"Wendy, he's off with that boyfriend of his, he's not coming." He interrupted. Wendy gave him a hurt look and he almost felt sorry. "Look either way, Stan would still take a good ten minutes to get here and I'm already here so…get the fuck in and let's go home. I live on your street anyway, ya dumb ho."

"Stop calling me a ho, Cartman." He rolled his eyes.

"Fine, whatever hippie, just get in the damn car, I'm freezin' my balls off here." Wendy picked up her backpack and got into the car cautiously. "What? I'm not gonna leave you in a dumpster anywhere." She let out a small laugh, easing the tension slightly.

"Yeah, it's hard to gloat over a dead body."

"Exactly."

They rode home in silence, with Wendy still checking her phone regularly to see if Stan had at least responded to her text that he no longer needed to pick her up. Cartman cleared his throat.

"He probably had to go save his dad or something. You know what a fuck-tard Mr. Marsh can be sometimes." Wendy laughed again and Cartman felt a small warmth in the pit of his stomach that he squashed quickly.

He had gotten over his crush on Wendy Testaburger in the eighth grade, right when it was becoming clear that she and Stan were going to become a 'thing'. But every once in a while—and it was rare—he would remember what it was like to imagine her laughing with him, letting him play with her long black hair, counting on him for rides home from…

No.

He wasn't going back down that path again.

"Well…thanks." Wendy said when they finally pulled into her driveway a few moments later.

"Uh…yeah, no problem." She closed the door behind her and Cartman watched her retreat to her front porch. Her black skinny jeans fit perfectly over her—

Cartman shook his head. No, no, no. 'Hormones.' He thought desperately. Yeah, that would be it. It had been a while since his last hook up and it was catching up to him now.

'Fuck,' He thought. 'I need to get laid.'

Song: "Nine in the Afternoon" by Panic at the Disco