Chapter 10
"Wendy, which poet do you think we should do our project on?" Bebe asked. Wendy didn't answer; she lay on Bebe's bed, wearing Stan's coat and hat with a blank look on her face. "Earth to Wendy!" Bebe said loudly
"Huh? Oh, what?" Wendy said sitting up
"We are never going to get any work done." Bebe sighed
"Hey! I was thinking!" Wendy said defensively
"Yeah, about Stan." Bebe giggled. Wendy blushed
"Yeah," she replied dreamily, she breathed in the scent on his jacket "he is just so perfect and he smells so good."
"We need to get some work done" Bebe complained
"Hey! Don't get mad at me, I'll bet you were thinking about Kyle!" Wendy smirked
"How can I not, he is so cute and he has a pretty hot ass!" Bebe giggled. The two girls continued talking about their boyfriends. Bebe brought up that she and Kyle were doing something special for their two-week anniversary. Wendy became visible sad, this reminded her that she couldn't do anything with Stan for their 8th anniversary.
"Wendy, you don't look so good." Bebe commented. It was true; Wendy had suddenly become quite pale.
"I think I'm going to go home now," she replied. Her voice sounded disconnected, almost as if she was in a trance.
"Okay," Bebe said looking at her pale friend, "be careful"
"I will." Wendy replied stuffing replacing Stan's jacket with her own, as she shuffled out the door.

Stan was lying on his bed, playing the song he wrote for Wendy. He whispered the words to himself "…everyday I see you..." he was interrupted by his mother calling him to dinner. Stan carefully placed his guitar on his bed and slowly started walking downstairs. He felt a sudden sinking feeling in his chest, as if he had missed a step. He needed to go for a walk, he didn't know why, but he had to go outside. He turned away from the delicious scents wafting from the table, and walked out the front door. "I'll be right back." He called into the house.

Stan followed where his feet took him, he faced the ground and his hands were stuffed I his pockets. Suddenly, he heard a soft –clomp–, he looked up to see a figure in a purple jacket lying in the snow. He shuffled closer, his heart sank, it was Wendy.