The next morning, Kyle was the first to the bus stop.
Shortly thereafter, Kyle could see Stan dragging his feet through the snow toward him. His cast was clearly visible under his right coat sleeve.
"Hey, dude," he sighed as he took his place next to Kyle.
"You look exhausted, Stan…," Kyle commented, observing the dark bags under his half-open eyes.
"I am… This thing is so annoying!" He held up his injured wrist, "I didn't really sleep at all last night because this stupid thing makes it impossible to get comfortable; and on top of that, it really itches right now but I can't do anything about it!
"That's rough, man… You'll probably find a comfy position to sleep in tonight."
"Honestly, I don't think I'll care. I'm just going to be so tired tonight I'm hoping I just pass out and sleep until morning."
Kyle gave a lighthearted laugh.
"So, how does your wrist feel?"
"It doesn't feel too bad; my mom gave me some ibuprofen before I left. It doesn't hurt near as much as it did last night."
Kyle was a little relieved
A few minutes later, both Kenny and Cartman rounded the corner in view of the bus stop.
"Oh! No way?!" Cartman approached the two boys staring at Stan's casted wrist.
"Oh, God…," Kyle swore under his breath.
"Stan, you actually did break your wrist?" He stopped in front of the boy.
"Thanks to you, Cartman!" Stan yelled, fuming with anger.
Cartman was silent for a few moments before bursting into hysterical laughter.
"Dude!" Kenny punched him in the shoulder.
Kyle looked as if he ready to attack Cartman.
"Don't push it, Cartman!" Stan threatened, "This thing is pretty hard; one good smack across the head and you'd be the next one going to the hospital!"
The fat boy continued laughing uncontrollably.
Stan was furious. He took a step back to steady himself and then, with all of his strength, swung his casted arm back and smashed it into Cartman's head.
Cartman staggered back and fell into the snow.
"Ouch!" Stan gently shook his arm as the bus rounded the corner and came to a stop in front of them.
Kenny and Kyle boarded first, still chuckling from what had just happened, Stan followed last leaving Cartman lying in the snow.
As Kyle took his usual seat and Stan sat beside him, they watched Cartman stumble onto the bus, obviously still dazed and fall into an empty seat near the front.
"That was awesome dude!" Kyle exclaimed.
"He was getting on my nerves… It kind of really hurt a lot, though," they both laughed.
"But it was totally worth it!" Stan finished.
"Agreed!"
"Stan, what happened?!" Butters peaked over the seat in front of them.
"I – uh… Broke my wrist last night…," Stan felt embarrassed as he realized everyone was looking at him.
"Geez! Does it hurt?" Butters' voice was filled with concern.
"It did hurt a lot, but it doesn't hurt too bad right now."
"What did you do?" Token asked, leaning over their seat from the seat behind.
"I was playing basketball with Kyle and… Cartman pushed me down."
"Cartman?!" Tweek flinched in his seat across the aisle.
"You should kick his ass," Craig stated, "I could help you if you want."
"Thanks, dude but I think I put him in his place; at least for a little bit."
"But you're still going to be able to play football with us, right?" Clyde questioned.
"I don't know… If I can, I probably won't be playing quarter back unless I learn to throw with my left hand."
"Dang..."
"How long do you have to wear that thing?" Kenny chimed in from a few rows back.
"The doctor said about eight weeks…"
Groaning was the universal, crowd-wide response.
"I know… It's gonna suck…," Stan trailed off as the bus came to a stop at the school.
Everyone disembarked and headed inside the school.
Stan and Kyle walked together to their lockers.
Kyle grabbed his books and turned to his friend.
He could see Stan was having a difficult time managing the three textbooks he was trying to hold under his left arm.
"Here, dude; I'll help you," Kyle took two of the books and closed his locker.
"Thanks."
The two of them headed to their fourth grade classroom and took a seat just before the bell rang.
"Alright, class. We're going to start today by handing in the math homework I assigned you all yesterday," Mr. Garrison moved to the center of the classroom.
"Oh, crap!" Stan whispered.
"What?" Kyle leaned over.
"I totally forgot to do my math homework last night!"
Kyle almost laughed out loud.
"Don't worry, dude. I'm sure Mr. Garrison will understand; just tell him."
Stan raised his non-injured hand.
"Yes, Stanley?"
"I – uh – forgot to do my math homework last night…," he looked down at his desk expecting to be yelled at.
Garrison observed Stan's freshly casted lower arm.
"That's okay, Stanley. Just get it to me when you can."
"Whew," he took a deep breath.
Cartman raised his hand next.
"Yes, Eric…?" Mr. Garrison sighed.
"I forgot to do my math homework last night too."
"Then you get a zero," he said, concisely.
"Why is it okay for Stan but not okay for me?!" Cartman yelled.
"Because he probably spent most of last night in the hospital; you don't have an excuse, Eric!" He yelled back.
"That's a bunch of bull crap!"
Garrison just shook his head as he started handing out pieces of paper.
"This morning we're going to do some more practice problems like the ones we did yesterday. Work through as much of this worksheet as you can before lunch and we'll talk about afterward," he moved back to the chair behind his desk, "And don't forget to show all of your work."
As the rest of the class began working on the assignment, Stan contemplated how he was going to go about this.
First, he decided to try writing with his right hand. After finally getting a grip on his pencil, he began writing out the first problem. It was slow-going and tiring, as he was holding the pencil with his fingertips and having to move pretty much his whole lower arm with each stroke since his wrist was immobilized.
After quickly deciding the amount of effort he had to put into writing with his injured hand was not worth it, he switched the pencil to his left.
This was easier but still just as painfully slow. Stan had to concentrate and really try to print the numbers with his off hand – they were still barely readable.
After about 15 minutes of Kyle looking up and seeing Stan struggling, he walked up to the front of the classroom.
"Mr. Garrison?"
"Yes, Kyle?" He looked up from his book.
"Would it be okay if I worked with Stan, since he's having a hard time writing?"
He glanced at the right-handed boy attempting to use his left.
"I suppose that would be alright, Kyle. Just don't go giving him all of the answers, though."
"I won't, Mr. Garrison."
Kyle walked back to his desk and pushed it together with Stan's.
"Kyle?" He was confused.
"I can see how hard of a time you're having trying to write down all this math work, so I asked Garrison if we could work together. He said yes," Kyle whispered.
"Sweet!" Stan whispered back.
Kyle moved his worksheet closer between them and added & Stan Marsh to the name line.
"Mr. Garrison said I couldn't just give you the answers, but he didn't say we had to go back and talk about the ones I already did," Kyle smirked,
Both boys muffled a laugh.
The duo had cumulatively completed the majority of the worksheet when the lunch bell rang.
"We'll talk about those problems when you get back from lunch!" Garrison waved them out.
"What do you want for lunch today?" Kyle asked Stan as they walked into the cafeteria.
"I think Salisbury steak is the only thing on the menu today, isn't it?"
"I guess so…," Kyle looked at the lunch board.
"Why?"
"I just wanted to know what you wanted. Go find us a table to sit at; I'll bring you your tray so you don't have to carry everything."
"Are you sure, dude? I can get my own lunch."
"Yeah, I'm sure. Just go find us a table."
"Alright," Stan went and claimed their normal table.
Kyle eventually walked out from behind the line area with two trays of food. He sat one in front of Stan and sat his down across from his best friend.
"I got you chocolate milk, I know that's what you like," Kyle took the small milk carton out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Stan.
Stan smiled, "Thanks, Kyle."
"Man, this definitely isn't how Chef used to make it…," Kyle poked at the chunk of meat on his tray.
"God, I know! There's so much rubber in here, it's hard to cut!" Stan laughed, holding his tray in place with his right arm and trying to cut it with the fork in his left hand.
"Need some help there, Stan?" Kyle chuckled.
"Uh…," Stan stopped and looked up, "Help with what…?"
"Cutting your steak… You're obviously having problems."
"I don't need you to cut my food, Kyle! I can do it…," he looked away, embarrassed.
"I know you can, dude. But lunch only lasts 30 minutes, not four hours," Kyle grabbed his tray from under him and began slicing up the chewy steak.
Stan's face turned about 10 shades of red.
"There you go!" He slid the food back to Stan.
"Thanks…"
As lunch finished and everyone returned to class, the rest of the day passed without a hitch.
"So, Kyle; do you want to come over to my house and help me work through that other math assignment from yesterday?" Stan asked as they walked back to their lockers.
"Sure!" Kyle replied enthusiastically sitting Stan's books on the top shelf, "I still got most of the work in my notebook; it was pretty easy. It shouldn't take long."
"Sweet!" Stan threw the rest of his stuff in.
"Hey, Stan?" He turned around to Butters and a small crowed of people gathered behind him.
"We saw Kyle signed your cast and – wul – we were wandering if we could s-sign it too?" Butters smiled warmly at the boy.
"S-sure." Stan was surprised by the size of the group of kids and held out his arm.
Butters pulled a marker out of his pocket and signed: Get well soon! – Butters before passing it to the next person.
Clyde D. - he drew a small football next to his name and passed the marker on.
Feel better, dude – Kenny was written in sloppy print; it was passed again.
Tweek – was quickly scribbled and the marker traded hands again.
Token Black was signed in cursive before he handed the marker off to the final person.
Craig, he gave the marker back to Butters saying "Just remember to ask me if you want help beating up the fat boy sometime."
Stan looked down at all the names now on his cast and still was a bit stunned they all cared enough to do something like that.
"Thanks for signing my cast, guys!" He beamed.
"Don't mention it, Stan." Butters and the other boys smiled as they walked away.
Before he turned around, Stan felt a tapping on his shoulder.
"Can I sign it too, Stan?" He turned around to face Wendy.
"I guess…," he responded, avoiding eye contact.
She pulled out a marker and motioned for his arm.
Stan bit his lip.
Wendy – she drew a heart next to her name.
"There!"
"Thanks…"
"I'd better be getting home… I'll talk to you later," she said, walking off.
"Yeah…," Stan replied still looking at the ground.
"Are you ready to go now, Mr. popular?" Kyle smirked.
Stan nodded and the two headed back to the Marsh residence where they quickly finished yesterday's math homework.
"Now that that's done do you want to play some video games or something?" Kyle asked through a yawn, stretching on the floor.
"I tried picking up the controller this morning out of curiosity and I can barely hold onto it, let alone play anything efficiently!" Stan frowned.
Kyle studied the sad look on his super best friend's face.
"How about a computer game? Maybe a mouse would be easier to handle?" He walked over to Stan's computer, "There's this RPG I play sometimes that doesn't require you to move to fast or anything and it's still a really good game!"
Stan was intrigued.
Kyle downloaded the game and started it up.
"Give it a try!"
Stan took the seat in front of his desk and tried playing.
A few minutes later, Kyle could tell he was uncomfortable.
"Having to hold my hand in this weird position to grip the mouse is actually really starting to make my wrist hurt…"
"Switch it to left-hand mode?"
He did this and changed positions.
A few awkward moments later; "This is even harder than trying to play with my right hand!"
"Just practice, you'll get used to it. Do you want to be able to play video games or not?" Kyle laughed
"I suppose you're right…," he trailed off.
"Thanks again for helping me today, dude…"
"No problem! I hope Garrison lets us work together at least until you can write something other than scribbles with your left hand!" Kyle teased.
"I guess today wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be." Stan commented.
"That's the spirit! Eight weeks will go by in no time!"