Author's notes: Sorry, this chapter kinda gets off subject with the last one. The only reason this one is out so quickly is because it was done when I posted chapter 1. So, I still have to write chapter 3, and it'll take a while. Please, review!

CHAPTER 2

I tossed my backpack in front of me, wishing I had aimed for my bed before I threw it. It landed with a loud thump on the seemingly thin wooden floor. Whoops.

I pulled my chair out and sat myself down, and wiggled the mouse. I should really shut down my computer when I'm not here, or at least log off and set a password. Sometimes I'm paranoid and think my mom or dad will sneak into my room while I'm at school or something and go through all my pictures and history and see the inappropriate names of all my documents. But then I remember that they don't really know how to do that, and they have better things to do. Not like I have stuff to hide or anything, but . . .

I saw the sticky note I made, small and lonely by itself in the corner of my screen. Oh, I forgot to tell him. Clyde, I mean. I forgot to tell him that I thought he was a fucking idiot. Before I opened up any programs or anything, I considered adding to that box. I drummed my fingers lightly on top of the keys.

As soon as it came to mind, I hastily added, and he's making me find a fucking date to the dance. Then I opened up Google Chrome. Enough of that.

I really didn't like the whole date thing. Why'd we all have to scramble to find dates this year? Last year we didn't, and the year before, too. Now, I'd understand if it was homecoming or if we were in senior year, but . . . we're juniors and it's the Holiday Dance. And the date thing is all Clyde's idea. It's making me more and more peeved off with him.

Our "gang" has never been involved in much. Compared to Stan's group of friends, I guess. Clyde and Craig are the leaders of our group, like Stan and Kyle. Except we never get involved in the crazy shit that they do. Sometimes we get dragged in, and Tweek left us once to hang out with them, but besides that, we stay under the radar and out of the way. Stan is the star quarterback, Kyle and Cartman are in Debate Club, and Kenny is always on every girl's mind. Butters drifts in and out of their group. Honestly, they're a really popular bunch of guys.

Is that why Clyde is doing this? I think he's pretty sick of living in Stan's shadow-it's been Clyde's dream since like, forever to be Cows quarterback. And he's jealous that Stan's real good friends with Wendy. It drove him nuts when they were still dating, but even after they broke up, Clyde was jealous. And Craig was there when Clyde announced the plans. He looked like he didn't care much, or even that he agreed. I can't imagine why Craig would go with it. As far as I know, he's not jealous of any of those guys. In fact, I don't think he's jealous of anyone. Craig's really stuck-up and conceited sometimes. But, who knows? Maybe he is hiding jealousy behind those deep blue eyes of his. Or maybe he just didn't want to argue with Clyde, because we all know how suicidal that can make you feel.

I think we're doomed.

Or I am, at least.

Let's see what I'm up against.

Token's black. That's cool. He can dance, and sing, and rap. He's good looking, he's smart, and he's nice, too. And he's fucking rich. If they held the dance at his house, I think the majority of people would get lost.

Craig is like, dark and mysterious, or whatever girls like to call him. He's got that, bad-ass, don't-fuck-with-me kind of aura about him. And he has blue eyes, which a lot of people like. I don't think he'd have a problem finding a date if he actually tried. He just doesn't want to get involved with other people, unless its his friends. Even then . . .

Tweek is a toughie. I see lots of girls looking at him and giggling in the hallways, but then later I find out that they were giggling about how adorable he is. Awkward for me to explain. He's always trembling and twitching, and he's scrappy and small. That coffee he's constantly drinking can't possibly be doing anything good for him. He's almost always standing behind someone; Craig when he's with us, and Kyle when he's with . . . them. I think he has an okay chance, if he can ask a girl out without spazzing and flipping out.

Clyde . . . has issues to work out if he wants to get a date. He used to be quite the charmer, back in late elementary and throughout middle school. Now that charm has moved over to Kenny, because girls value sex and naughtiness more than a couple hugs and a nice pair of shoes. I guess he's always been kinda chubby, but everyone tends to look over that when you're younger. I remember once, last year, Bebe called him fat to his face, and he spent days crying over it.

There's one of his biggest issues: he's a crier. About once a week, I'd say. It used to be every other day, but he finally grew out of that. I guess crying once a week still isn't an impressive feat, though. Even if he doesn't cry, he'll still get overly-upset about things, or whatever state of emotion you launch him into. If he toughens up and stops crying over every little thing that no other boy is known to cry about, then I think he can actually land himself a good, sturdy, permanent girlfriend.

Here's his second issue: he is fat. I'm not saying like, Cartman fat, but he's still fatter than any of his friends. It's because of his love affair with tacos and chipotle. I told him once that if he planted the idea that girls are more important than tacos into his sad little brain, then he wouldn't be fat like he was. He just can't get it down, though. He eats that stuff almost everyday, I swear. But, besides his weight, he's not too harsh on the eyes. He has light brown hair and bright hazel eyes, and quite a cunning smile, I must say. To me, it gets annoying because I know he uses it when he wants something, like answers to stuff.

This is the last of his problems that I'm going to talk about, and it's the one that affects me the most. He is so dumb. He's so dumb that it's not even funny. Especially to me, since I'm the one he's always mooching answers off of and stuff. Maybe girls consider it naive, or they think its cute, or whatever-but sometimes I want to fucking stab him in the neck because that's how annoying it can get. In fact, sometimes I'd rather carry on a conversation with Eric Cartman instead of Clyde. At least Cartman knows a lot about political and ethical stuff.

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. I closed my eyes and that somehow magnified the swaying feeling I felt in the tip of my fingers as my arms dangled inches from the floor.

That's who I'm up against. I don't think my chances of getting any kind of date are very good. I didn't even take Stan's gang into account. And I don't want a girl who's caught AIDS or herpes from Kenny. I hope that doesn't exclude a lot of people.

Well, let's look on the bright side, Kevin. I popped one eye open, and then the other. Maybe it would help a little if my room wasn't so dark. I got up and threw my curtains apart, letting in a lot more light than I had expected. The sky was gray with snow clouds, but it brightened up the room for sure. Inside, I wished that it was a red and gold sunrise, so i could just look at it and feel peaceful again. But it wasn't, so I walked over to the other side of the door and flipped on the light switch.

I looked around. I can't say it improved things, because my room was a mess. In the dark, you couldn't see much of it. Now I saw all the shirts, socks, jeans, books, and video games littered all over the floor, and I kinda got really frustrated. I wanted light in my room, but I didn't like the mess, but I also didn't want to start cleaning it up. I groaned. It probably should be done sooner or later, anyway. I went to my computer and opened up iTunes, and picked a random song. I started to pick stuff up, fold it if necessary, and put it where it's supposed to be.

This is the kind of shit that my life is filled with. I help people in school, I'm generally a nice person, I tend to put others before me, stuff like that. And when it comes to stuff I wanna do for myself, it's screwy and retarded. I mean, I know I'm just picking up my room, and that's something that I don't think I could've avoided for much longer anyway, but if you take a few steps back and look at the big picture, I don't think life likes me all that much. It's like, karma likes to make me its personal study specimen.

I'm nice. And I'm not being conceited when I say that. I really think I'm genuinely nice to others, unless you decide to crack my brain open and look at all the things I'm thinking when I talk to them. Then I'm not so nice sometimes. And in turn, people are mean to me. All of Clyde and Stan's friends on the football team? You bet. Cartman's annoying-as-hell posse from Debate Club? Yeah, them too. All because I have what some people consider an "unhealthy obsession" with certain video games and movies. And girls just don't pay much attention to me. Probably for obvious reasons.

I stay out of people's lives. First of all, I don't care about them. I mean, why would I care about what shoes you just bought, or what you got on that one exam, or who just broke up with whoever? People who feed off of that stuff just don't have lives. I mean, achieving all goals possible on a game is a pretty good life, right? . . . Okay, you don't need to comment on that. I guess I can't say anything about other people not having lives.

I work for my good grades in school. I'm real close to a 4.0 average, and I've worked my ass off to get there. Clyde copies all of the work that he possibly can, but he still slinks by with an average of just over 3.0. I don't have much sympathy for him in that field. Other people like to suck up my answers too, because they know I'm smart-or they assume I am because I'm Asian. I don't think that's very fair, do you?

Maybe I should tell someone how I feel about things. I folded a shirt on my lap and paused to think about it.

Nyeh. I'm not like that.

"You need to find some friends, Kevin."

"I have friends."

"It doesn't seem like it." kjdfhksjdfhsdk fsd

I wish my mom would shut up. She's old-fashioned and doesn't get my life. And I don't get hers. And she doesn't realize that it's better to keep it that way, instead of trying to understand each other.

"I go hang out with them all the time."

"How come I've never seen them?"

"You have," I argued, keeping my eyes glued to the monitor. I refused to look at her, even though she was in my doorway with her hands on her hips. "You're just too old to remember."

"Kevin Stoley!"

I snorted. I make offensive remarks to her age all the time. I know I'm not the only one who finds it funny.

"You need to get rid of this attitude problem of yours!"

I slowly spun in my chair to face her. "I don't have an "attitude problem", I have an attitude that you have a problem with." Her bottom lip twitched, and her eyes narrowed furiously. I spun back to my computer. "So therefore it's your problem."

My mom slammed my door, delivering a gust of wind that actually blew my bangs to the side. When I heard her thundering down the steps, I couldn't help but snicker triumphantly to myself. Then I just laughed.

Is that why karma picks on me?

Well, she deserved it. She was wrong. I do have friends. Maybe not the greatest buddies in the whole wide world, but they were still friends. Craig, Tweek, Token, and . . . I guess I have to call Clyde my friend. I mean, he's kind of the only one who'll play video games with me. Craig is always at home, playing his own games or watching TV. Token's always studying, or busy at some expensive store way out in Denver. Tweek is okay, but he doesn't like the video games I play because apparently they're too much pressure for him to handle. So I can either play video games with Clyde, or sit at home and do nothing but brood while I sit idly in front of the computer, like I am now.

I looked at my Xbox. I saw Batman: Arkham City and Mortal Kombat lying on the floor nearby. There was no way around it: they were beckoning me. And I wanted to give in.

So I did.

I grabbed my phone and found Clyde's number, and pressed the call key.

"Thanks for coming, dude," I said, on my knees over the Xbox to put in the disc. We had decided to do two-versus-two on Mortal Kombat, since that was Clyde's favorite choice in my wide selection of games. I said we could take turns on Arkham City, but he wanted to play Mortal Kombat.

"No problem," he said, finishing up the last of the oreo he had been eating. He licked his fingers. "I was bored, anyway."

"Huh, yeah," I mumbled, tossing him a remote. He mad no effort to catch it, but it still landed safely in his lap. I sat down on my bed next to him, and waited for the game to come on.

"So," he began, keeping his eyes glued to the screen as the menu popped up. "Do you have anyone in mind yet?"

I pressed a few buttons before I replied. Of course not, Clyde; what do you think? I don't even want to do this! But he sort of had a point: I guess I should be considering people. Oh, wait. There's a problem.

"I don't really know any girls, Clyde." Fact.

"Sure you do, Kev," he said, his face growing serious as the virtual-battle commenced.

"I do? Remind me; it seems I've forgot."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine, you win." There was a pause as our opponents grew stealthier and increasing their attacks. "I guess that means I need to introduce you to a few."

My thumb slipped as he said this, which caused me to complete a vital combo-move. "Um, Clyde?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you forget who you're talking to?"

"No, of course not," he said. At first I thought maybe he didn't get what I was implying, but then he added, "you're not completely invisible to the school, Kevin."

"Nyeh," I said bleakly. Yes I am.

Seeing that I wasn't in any way convinced, he told me, "Tell you what. Sometime soon we'll go around the school, me and you, and I'll introduce you to a bunch of nice girls. And we'll find you a date, mister."

I laughed out loud. This would probably be a good time to tell him what he needs to know.

"Clyde, you're a fucking idiot."

I think Clyde forgot about me for a while. It was truly a godsend. So far, I've been introduced to zero girls, and he's copied off of zero of my papers. I was content in this short period of a few days.

My contentedness ended when Clyde grabbed my arm right as we were dismissed for lunch and dragged me through the halls, in the opposite direction of my locker.

"Clyde! What are you doing?" I hissed angrily at him. I was actually really hungry today, and was not in any mood for his shitting around.

"Girls, remember?" he said gleefully, navigating expertly through the halls. It's like he knew exactly what he was looking for.

I suddenly felt sick rather than hungry. "Right now?" Yeah, I know that's a stupid thing to say, but it's all I could say without throwing up on the back of his varsity jacket.

"Well, first," he began, not taking hint of the queasiness in my voice. "I'm going to ask out my girl first."

Uh-oh. That meant Bebe, didn't it? That's why he was going so swiftly through the halls. He knew who he was looking for.

I saw the shiny blonde waves among the sea of other heads. I have to admit, her hair really stood out. Clyde's speed increased until he dropped my arm and strolled casually up to her, leaving me behind . . . to watch? Might as well.

I saw Clyde start a casual conversation, already making Bebe blush and giggle. Nyeh, she's always seemed annoying to me. And she also needs to pull up her shirt or something.

I quickly began to get bored, and my eyes involuntarily drifted elsewhere. At first I thought of ditching Clyde and going to lunch, but then my eyes landed on someone, and my thoughts evaporated.

I know this girl.

Long, light brown hair, kind of short, really skinny. She looked so familiar. It was really bugging me now.

I felt my feet slowly start to move toward her, gradually picking up speed as I realized I had to reach her before she left her locker. My feet. I swear, sometimes they have a mind of their own.

I came right up to her locker. I realized that I almost had to look down to meet her eyes. It was weird.

She shut her locker as she noticed my presence. Her eyes slowly met mine.

"Do I know you?" She asked suspiciously.

"I was just about to ask you the same thing."

Oh, thank god-she smiled. She didn't think I was weird yet. God, even her smile looked so damn familiar. That soft brown hair, her baby blue eyes-

"I'm Heidi."

That's it! Heidi, from elementary! Duh.

"I'm Kevin. Stoley. I think we were in the same class in like, 3rd grade or something."

"Oh, Kevin! Yeah, I remember you from elementary school! Wow, you've . . . changed," she said with an impressed grin as she looked me up and down.

"So have you . . . I think," I said. The Heidi that I remembered was really kind of chubby. Almost like Clyde back when he was younger. Well, maybe I was getting mixed up with another girl, because the one I was talking to was as skinny as fuck.

She laughed awkwardly. "Yeah, I guess I have." She turned her body to face me, and held her lunch and books in front of her like a professional schoolgirl. "So what have you been up to lately?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but then heard a loud bang on the lockers from behind me, in Clyde's direction. I spun around, and Heidi peeked over my shoulder.

Sure enough, Clyde was slumped against a couple lockers, looking sadder than ever. He sniffled. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye.

I turned back to Heidi. "Sorry, I gotta go. Nice talking to you," I said politely.

She nodded and smiled. "You too. See you later," she said, turning around and heading to the lunch room. I watched her leave, and then reluctantly turned around and made my way over to Clyde.

He put his hands on my shoulders and slowly grabbed the cloth of my sweatshirt with a weak grasp. His eyes were already getting red and misty.

"She rejected me . . ." he began in a quiet, cracking voice. "And called me fat."

I frowned. This will be a touchy subject.

"Well, Clyde-"

"How are you so skinny, Kevin?" he blurted out, jerking my jacked down so my face was in close proximity with his. "She called me fat . . ."

You know how I'm pretty much Clyde's cheat-sheet? Well, I'm also his emotional-support pillow. I hate how these things pile up on me. If he goes to Token, he'll only be confused by his logical way of explaining things and feel worse. If he runs to Craig, he'll only start crying more because of Craig's refusal to offer emotional support of any kind. If he goes to Tweek, he'll just flip out and cause Tweek to have an emotional and mental breakdown too. So he comes to me. Not as a last resort, I hope.

I grabbed his collar and pulled him forward, onto his feet. His grip crumbled and his hands slid off my shirt, and he wiped his eyes before tears could fall. He looked to the side.

"If she did," I said, grabbing his elbow and leading him out of the now empty hallway. "Then I think you should do something about it."

He sniffed. For a while that was it, and I just tugged him back to my locker to get my lunch. When I closed it, he was looking at me with unusually big hazel eyes. Like a puppy.

". . . Can you help me?" he asked, his voice cracking.

"Help you? What do you mean?" I hope he doesn't say what I think he's about to say. Oh, God if he tells me that he-

"L-lose weight . . ."

Awh, no, he didn't. I tried not to let out a groan of resentment. I shouldn't have asked.

"Clyde, I dunno, I can't-"

"Please!" he wailed, grabbing my upper arms and pressing them to my sides. "I need to win her back."

I sighed deeply. I don't think he ever had her heart to begin with. And why does he think I can help him? I'm not a health coach. Sure, maybe I can slim him down a little-but not in time for the dance. Maybe by like, spring break or something. He jerked my arms impatiently.

"Fine, I'll try," I told him, peeling his hands off and walking past him. "Let's start with lunch, shall we?" He followed me obediently into the lunchroom.

Guess where I am right now? Sitting on the bleachers at the football stadium. Yeah, karma decided to take a steel bat and slug me in the nuts. I decide to help Clyde out with his weight problems, and I'm dragged to his football practice after school. So far I've survived it by plugging in my iPod and tuning everything out, but I'm not sure how much longer I can take it. It's really cold, and it seems like its seeping through the front of my Vans and making my toes freeze black and blue. I can't believe they do year-round football; they must be crazy.

I found it rather interesting to watch, however. Mainly I watched Stan and Clyde. The coach was always praising Clyde, I could see the pride beaming on his face. But the coach praised Stan more. And when he did, I could see Clyde step off broodingly. What a pussy.

After about an hour or so, I saw the team huddle together, and then break. Clyde came jogging in my direction, with Stan just behind him. I looked farther down the bleachers and saw Kyle and Kenny twittering away, and figured that's where Stan was headed. I bounced my knee. They had thick jackets on, unlike me and my sweatshirt. I shivered.

Clyde came over to me and stooped over to grab his back pack. He started to unzip it and look inside for something.

"The coach praises you a lot, you know," I told him, unplugging one of my earbuds so I could hear his reply.

He snorted. "Yeah, right. You should hear what he says to Stan." He pulled out something wrapped in a yellow paper wrapper from his back pack.

I frowned and snatched it away from him.

"Hey!" he protested, glaring at me. "That's mine!"

I observed the thing in my hand. Some kind of burrito from Taco Bell. It was still warm. I shook my head and reached for my back pack. I unzipped it and dug around in my bag, looking for my lunch. I found the apple I had saved from lunch, and tossed it at him.

"Not anymore it isn't," I replied, feeling smug at the disappointed look on his face. He made no attempt to hide it. "If you need to eat anything at all, eat that."

Clyde's gaze lingered at the red fruit in his hand for a second longer, and then he looked up at me, his head cocked to the side. "An apple?"

I nodded. "Yes. An apple."

He frowned. "Really?"

"Yes." I zipped up my backpack, turning my gaze away from him. "You should try it. You might be surprised."

He snorted. "I've had an apple before," he retorted.

I rolled my eyes. "If you don't want it, then don't eat it. Simple as that."

He didn't reply, and when I looked back up, he was staring down at the apple in his hands, debating whether he should eat it or not. Finally, he took a bite.

"This apple isn't even sweet," he told me, spitting out a few pieces. "You suck, Kevin."

I shrugged. "You want Bebe, don't you?"

He scowled. Then he turned on his heel and went back to the rest of his team.

I watched him leave, until eventually the team started practicing plays again. When I made sure that Clyde could not see me whatsoever, I slyly pulled his burrito out from my bag and gently unwrapped it. I began to take bites out of it nonchalantly, keeping my eyes on the game. This was actually really good, whatever it was.

I saw a couple of white flakes pass before my eyes. I looked up. The sky was gray, and small white flakes were starting to fall. Oh, no. Please don't let it snow. I'm cold enough as it is.

I looked behind me, seeing if there was a roof on top of the bleachers so I could move higher up and get out of the snow. But there wasn't. Instead, I saw Kyle and Kenny huddled next to each other on the bleachers, each wrapped in their own individual blankets. Man, they're smart, aren't they? Then again, they probably knew to bring them, since they had probably been to many of Stan's practices. If I continue to do this, I'll bring a blanket, too.

I shivered. Should I go ask them for one? I mean, they have two. And they have thick jackets underneath. You know; I think I will.

I put Clyde's burrito down and pulled out my earbuds. I began to scale the bleachers, and as they heard me coming, I saw Kenny glance up in my direction, and then Kyle did too, since Kenny probably stopped talking.

"Kevin? Is that you?" Kenny asked, squinting as he looked up at me. God, his furry parka hood looked so warm. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here with Clyde," I told him, sticking my hands in my pocket. I tried to clamp my jaw shut when I wasn't talking so my teeth wouldn't chatter.

"Oh, Clyde," Kenny said, looking out at the field. I guess he either found him or got tired of looking for him, because he quickly looked back up at me. "So why'd you come up here? You can sit down if you want; me and Kyle were just talking about great Esther would be in bed."

"No we weren't Kenny; you were!" Kyle snapped at him. Kenny looked to the side and pulled his lip up, thinking. Kyle rolled his eyes, which then landed on me. "But you can sit down if you want."

I shrugged it off. "Nah, it's okay. I was just wondering-" I said, looking from his face down to the blanket that he had wrapped himself up in. "-if you had any other blankets?"

"Oh, yeah! Here, take mine," Kyle said, already shrugging his off.

"Wait, no, if you-"

"It's okay Kevin," Kenny said, cutting me off. He opened one side of his blanket like a wing and scooted closer to Kyle, wrapping it around his shoulders and binding them together. "Me and Kyle can share . . ."

Kyle lifted his head, with a disgusted look. He pushed Kenny away, who mewled as he did so. "No, Kenny."

Kyle held out his blanket to me. "Uh, are you sure?" I asked, now feeling bad.

"Yeah, it's no problem," he told me. He leaned behind me and grabbed a backpack. "I can just use Stan's."

I took the blanket quickly, and held it under my arm. "Thanks," I said to him. He nodded as he began to unfold the blanket that Stan had in his backpack.

I started to turn around to go back to my seat, when I heard Kenny cry out, "Where you going, Kevin? Won't you stay?"

I turned around and saw that Kenny had sprawled out across the seat, with his head facing the opposite direction. I felt even worse. I don't even really know these two, but I shouldn't just leave, right? I opened my mouth to reply, but then I caught Kyle's eye and he shook his head, grinning.

You can go, he mouthed, with a nod towards the bottom of the bleachers. I smiled back and headed on my way. As I headed down, I heard Kyle yelp, "Ack! Gross, Kenny! Stop!"

I can only wonder.

I sat back down in my spot, and now the bleachers were colder than ever. I guess I'd just have to warm it up again. I wrapped the blanket gratefully around my shoulders and plugged my earbuds back in. There was a smell lingering on the blanket; some kind of cologne. It smelled expensive. I don't know.

I felt snowflakes landing on my nose. I wish I had a hood like Kenny, or a hat like Kyle. Sometimes I really doubt my own intelligence.

As more and more snow began to fall, I realized that I was again feeling very peaceful. No, it was different from the contentedness I had been feeling most of the week. It was that peace I had felt in the morning, however long ago that was. At Stark's Pond and stuff.

I smiled, then brought up the hem of Kyle's blanket to cover it. Not like anyone would see, but it just felt better. I glanced down at the burrito lying next to me, only half finished. It had a couple snow flakes on it, so wrapped up the exposed part and brought it under the warm protection of the blanket. Then I looked down at my shoes. Just plain Vans. They were covered with snow flakes, too, and that made my grin even wider. It just looked really cool.

I brought my gaze out onto the field. Those football players didn't make the scene very nice. Running around and tackling each other, and not to mention slapping each other in sometimes strange places. I closed my eyes and turned down my music, trying to get absorbed in the peace.

At first, I imagined Christmas. That's what usually comes to mind when I want to feel happy, especially when it's snowing, and at this time of year. I thought not of presents, but the smell of cookies and freshly-cut Christmas trees, the soft, colorful lights strung about the town, and just the general feeling of Christmas. It seemed to work for a little while, until I realized that I shouldn;t be thinking about Christmas to make me happy like this.

I opened my eyes.

I pinpointed Clyde out on the field. I couldn't hear or lip-read what he was saying, but he was smiling and having a giggling fit like a little sixth grader, like he was really happy, and having a great time. But, was he really? I know I have no reason to decide when; he's happy or not, but something was really bugging me about his behavior.

I think he was having a good time. A truly good time. And his behavior isn't what was bugging me. It was mine.

How come I couldn't find an activity where I could just laugh out loud, run around with a crazy grin, and have giggling fits? Yeah, maybe it used to be like that with most video games, but sadly, I'm starting to think I've been growing out of them. I don't remember the last time I've laughed so hard that it hurt. I really don't.

I hope this doesn't mean I'm slipping into depression or anything major like that. I don't think I'm depressed, but then again, denial is the first step, right? Nah. Maybe I'm just really mature, and I can't understand the humor of my peers anymore. Ugh, I don't like the sound of that, either. I know I'm not mature, and on many levels at that.

I sighed and stared grumpily out onto the field. I don't like the conclusions I come to. I shouldn't have thought about that. Now I'm weirded out with myself because I think I might be depressed. But then again, I don't. I don't know. I'm just really . . . jealous now, when I look at Clyde. Maybe he isn't all as happy as he looks, but still! When's the last time you've looked like that, huh, Kevin?

Look at what he's doing to me. I'm mad at him. He gets a passable average because he copied my papers. He dragged me to football practice. I'm his support pillow, even if I don't wanna be. I'm trying to do an impossible task: slim him down in time for the dance. And now, I'm jealous, because he can have a good time, and I can't.

Now I want to kick a baby.

I fidgeted with frustration. I guess karma decided to get personal this time, and plant its foot right in my brain, in my thoughts. I rested my chin on my fist, and looked out glumly onto the field. I didn't look at Clyde. It made me want to kick a baby.

In the corner of my eye, I saw a few girls growing larger as they neared. What were they from? I didn't know girls had year-round sports, too.

I was about to look back out on the field when one of the girls caught my eye. She had a big bag slung over her shoulder, and her pants were longer than everyone else's.

"Hey, Heidi!" I called out after unplugging my earbuds, cupping my hands around my mouth, even if it wasn't necessary. I saw her head snap around in my direction. I waved her over. Damn, I hate it when things catch my eye.

When she finally stood in front of me, she asked with a smile, "Kevin! What are you doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

She laughed. Why did she laugh?

. . . Oh, it's because that's the exact same thing I told her earlier today. Wow, that's amazing. I didn't know I could be that dumb.

She sat down next to me. "I'm on the lacrosse team," she said, her hair bouncing on her shoulders as she turned to look at me.

"Oh," I replied, still numb from realizing my stupid mistake. "That's cool."

She shrugged. "I guess it's okay. What are you doing here, though?"

I pulled my blanket a little more tightly around my shoulders. "I have to wait for Clyde," I said, making no effort to hide my displeasure.

She let out a soft laugh. "Huh. Why do you have to wait for him?"

I shrugged, watching him out on the field again. Now that Heidi was talking to me, I didn't feel like kicking a baby anymore.

"I'm kind of . . . coaching him," I told her, narrowing my eyes as I figured out how to word it.

She looked at me, not quite understanding. "Huh? Coaching him?"

I kind of leaned to the side. "Ehh, he wants me to help him lose weight so Bebe will go to the dance with him."

She looked down and crossed he legs. "Oh."

"But I don't think I can do a thing about it."

She smirked. "That's kinda mean."

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that," I tried to explain, shaking my head. I laughed too. "No, I mean because I don't know a thing about losing weight. And he kinda seems like a hopeless case."

I remembered the burrito he had tried to eat at break time, and brought it out from under my blanket. I showed it to her. "This was his 'snack' that he brought."

She opened the wrapper a little and examined the burrito. "You let him eat half of it."

I smiled sheepishly. "No, that was me. I gave him an apple to eat."

She laughed. "Well, that was nice of you."

"He wants to lose weight, right?" I said with a smile. "I think it's fair."

She smiled at me, and that's when my brain finally started working like it normally does. I saw snowflakes landing in her hair and realized how cold she must be.

"Here, take my blanket," I told her, taking it off of my shoulders and handing it to her before she could protest. "Well, it's Kyle's, but, whatever."

She smiled and gratefully took the blanket. "Thanks, but we can share," she told me, giving me half of the blanket. It was big enough if we turned it sideways, but she still scooted closer to me. I felt awkward, because I don't remember the last time a girl had gotten so close to me.

From up above in the bleachers, we heard someone whistle, obviously at us. Kenny. Heidi laughed a little, but I stayed mute, because I didn't think it was very funny. Then we heard loud steps coming down the bleachers, and I was afraid of what would come next.

To my great relief, it was Kyle. He came down to us and stood next to Heidi.

"Hey," he said, still laughing at something Kenny probably did or said. "Do you have the study sheets for math?"

Heidi's jaw dropped in disbelief. She gasped. "What's this? Kyle doesn't have a math study sheet?"

"Cut it out, Heidi," he said, now laughing softly at just her. "My dog ate it."

"You have a dog?" Heidi asked, greatly surprised.

"Kenny."

Heidi found this greatly amusing, and I only smiled a little. I guess it was kind of funny. Then she nodded at her big sports bag and said to Kyle, "Yeah, it's in there somewhere. You might have to dig around for it a little."

Kyle bent down to go through her bag, and then pulled out a sheet of paper within a few seconds. "Thanks."

"No problem," Heidi said, grinning.

Kyle began to retreat, stepping up a couple bleachers, when he stopped abruptly and turned around. He cocked his head and gazed thoughtfully at us.

"When did you guys start dating?" he asked with a tone that I hoped to be nothing but innocence.

"We aren't," I said quickly. Maybe too quickly. I hope I didn't offend Heidi or anything. Well, why would it? We aren't dating. I just didn't want Kyle getting the wrong idea.

"Oh," Kyle said, smiling in an embarrassing way. "Sorry." He turned around and continued on his way.

When we were alone again, I couldn't help but feeling extremely awkward. I'm almost positive she was feeling that way, too.

We watched the football team in silence, and finally the coach blew the final whistle, and Clyde began to walk over, with Stan.

"I guess I should go," Heidi said, taking the blanket off and standing up. She grabbed her big bag and slung it over her shoulder.

"Um, yeah, alright." I rubbed the back of my neck as I took the blanket back. "See you later."

She smiled and started to walk away, and as I watched her walking away, the gears in my brain sparked. Heidi. The dance! Duh, do it now!

"Wait, Heidi!" I called out. She turned around with somewhat of a hopeful look on her face.

"Yeah?"

Spit it out. "Wanna go to the dance with me?"

She smiled. A real big smile, too. "Sure. Let's do it."

I grinned as she waved and turned to leave. She passed by Clyde and Stan, both of which smiled at her.

Clyde came next to me and I started folding Kyle's blanket. "Who's she?"

"Heidi. My friend," I replied. "And my date."

You know, it's actually really weird how I feel about taking Heidi to the dance. I just met her today, and as far as I know, I don't have a crush on her. I think she's only gonna be my date this one time. Just a friend all the other times. Because, I don't feel attracted to her, so I don't want to plain out start dating her. No, don't get me wrong: she's really pretty, but I just don't have a crush on her. I think she's nice and fun to talk to. I hope she won't want to go any farther than friends.

"Your date?" Clyde asked, amazed. Then he frowned and looked very crestfallen. "It's probably cause your skinny."

I lifted Clyde's burrito off the seat next to me, and took a bite. I shrugged. "Maybe it is."

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