South Park property of T. Parker and M. Stone. Ella Tweak is mine. Joining my version of the South Parkiverse in this chapter:

Vivi Sykes: created by PiScEs-BlOsSoM69

Lucy Montgomery: created by Kootie Bomb

Other OCs will be featured in upcoming chapters. (I haven't forgotten about my Damien friends!)

Disclaimer: Those of you that have read the fic up until this point know that I don't necessarily resolve problems or introduce stories in a linear fashion. The same thing might happen to your OCs. I also happen to write my version of South Park as a separate little universe. This means that even if your OC had been dating Stan since 5th grade in your fic, I might change that to suit my version of reality. I will do my very best to honor crushes/enemies/friendships and will endeavor to get your characters right, although you might find they sound a bit different when I'm pulling their strings. ^.^

(P.S. I can already tell this is going to be a mega fatty chapter. Sorry! :P)

*

Stark's Pond – Sophomore Year

Bebe Stevens silently thanked God for the weather. It was slightly overcast, but it was 5 p.m. and the air had warmed to 30 degrees. Bebe had been at Stark's Pond since 2 o'clock, enlisting Red, Wendy, Clyde and Token to help assemble a bonfire and set out folding tables and camp chairs donated by the Testaburgers for the occasion. Her phone rang and she fished it out of her tight jeans pocket.

"Hi Vivi!" Bebe said, ignoring the face Wendy made as she spread out the tablecloth. "Yep. Nope, bonfire isn't lit yet." Bebe giggled. "How far away are you? Five minutes? Okay. We'll wait." Bebe stuffed her phone in her back pocket and started unpacking trays of cookies and arranging them just so on the tables.

"Vivi?" Wendy said pointedly, arranging piles of cups, silverware and napkins. "What, did you like.. invite the entire sophomore class or something?"

"No." Bebe said, nodding as Red stuffed a large ice-filled tub with sodas. "Vivi is in my English class. She seems like fun." Bebe looked over at Wendy. "Does that sparkle with you?" She said in a tone of voice that didn't invite a reply.

Wendy made a face and might have been inclined to tell Bebe exactly how little spending an evening with Vivi Sykes sparkled with her, but Token interrupted and placed a large cooler between the two girls and flipped off the lid. He had generously donated enough sausages and hot dogs to feed a legion of starving teenagers.

Bebe squealed and hugged Token, who looked a bit embarrassed and grateful when Bebe turned her attention to a few newcomers straggling over to the pond, encumbered with skates, bags of chips and other offerings. Among these new arrivals was Vivi Sykes, clutching a large paper sack. Her brilliant red-violet hair was suppressed by a blue woolen beret that just matched the stripes on her shirt. Bebe jogged over to meet her and peeked in the sack, then clapped her hands. "Awesome!"

Vivi grinned and followed Bebe to the bonfire site, and a neatly stacked tipi of wood.

"It's all yours. I'll find you a slave to collect more wood later." Bebe said.

"A cute one, I hope." Vivi replied, then gave Wendy an overly large, overly false-friendly smile. She giggled at Wendy's look of obvious disdain and set to work getting the fire lit, tending it like a newborn baby. Vivi wasn't exactly pleased to be spending quality vacation time with Wendy Testaburger, but Wendy was obviously easily pissed off and that had high entertainment value in and of itself.

*

Eric Cartman was a terrible driver. This was an indisputable fact. He had gotten his license last July, but Stan was sure if the DMV could have withheld it, they would have. Unfortunately Cartman had managed to pass his drivers exam by the skin of his teeth. To celebrate, Liane Cartman had bought her precious poopiekins a bright red Mitsubishi Eclipse.

At present, said Eclipse was skidding around hairpin turns on the way to Stark's Pond. Stan had a white-knuckled grip on what Kenny poetically referred to as the 'Oh Shit! handle' just above the passenger's side window. Kyle and Kenny had been relegated to the cramped backseat, being the thinnest of the four. Unable to see the windshield, they were spared the full impact of Cartman's death-wish driving. Stan was sure that he heard Kyle muttering a prayer in Hebrew under the pulsing thump of Eminem's "Shake That" blasting from the car's kickass stereo.

Get buzzed, get drunk, get crunked, get fuucked up
Hit the strip club don't forget ones get your dick rubbed
Get fucked, get sucked, get wasted, shit faceted
Pasted, blasted, puke drink up, get a new drink
Hit the bathroom sink, throw up…

"Woohoo!" Kenny shouted from behind Stan's head as the little red car went airborne at the bottom of a hill.

Fortunately the bottom of this particular hill signaled the town limits and Cartman slowed down to a sensible speed, although he still seemed loath to use his turn signals. Stan unbunched his hands, feeling blood rush back to his fingertips.

One of Kenny's arms snaked into the front seat. His thin fingers jabbed at the stereo until he reached the classical station. The strains of Mozart's Symphony No. 40 filled the car and a glance in the review mirror revealed that Kenny was headbanging in time to the music, provoking a fit of laughter from Kyle. Stan joined in, knowing full well that Kenny had a few beers before they picked him up. Stan suspected the lanky blonde had been trying to settle his nerves. Bebe's parties were first rate, and at least two dozen cute girls would be on the guest list.

"AY!" Cartman shouted, determined to spoil everything. He switched the music back to his iPod and Eminem.

I want a bitch that sit at the crib with no panties on
Knows that she can but she won't say no
Now look at this lady all in front of me, sexy as can be
Tonight I want a slut, will you be mine?
I heard you was freaky from a friend of mine…

"Gentlemen…" Cartman began, clearing his throat and adopting the mock-patient tone they all knew so well. "We cannot roll up to the party in front of some of the finest bitches in South Park with that butt-humping, homo-douchefag music that Kenny likes blasting out the windows. It just isn't done." Cartman pointed an accusing finger at Kyle in the backseat "Shut up YA JEW!"

Kyle gritted his teeth. "Fuck you, fata-"

Cartman stomped on the brakes, the sudden jerk of the car cutting Kyle off mid-sentence.

"What was that Kahl?" he asked.

"I said fuck you fata-" Kyle started, only to be jarred by Cartman stomping on the brakes again.

"What Kahl?"

"Goddammit Cartman! I'd like to get there sometime before midnight!" Stan snapped.

"I'm so sorry Stanley. Was having trouble hearing Kahl…" Cartman said and turned up the music and drove the rest of the way to Stark's Pond without incident.

Cartman nudged the bumper of Craig Tucker's Rav4 as he parked next to it. Stan was immensely grateful that Craig wasn't there to see that. He had no desire to find out what it felt like to be bludgeoned with a hockey stick.

*

Bebe frowned slightly as she saw Eric, Stan, Kyle and Kenny approaching, each carrying two or three cases of beer and a few bottles of vodka. She sincerely hoped that not too many people would overindulge, as alcohol tended to cause drama and she'd really been hoping for a pleasant evening with her friends that didn't involve gratuitous making out and YouTube moments. Bebe dug her phone out of her pocket and considered her latest list carefully. She had already definitely invited Red, Wendy, Heidi and Ella back to her place for a sleepover afterwards, but thought a few more girls might make for more fun. The question was – who?

Stan plunked his beer down on one of the tables and adjusted his blue cap, smiling apologetically at Bebe. He and Bebe had gone out a couple times since homecoming, and while the kissing had been nice, he was growing a bit impatient with her intense social schedule. As much as Wendy pissed him off, she'd always made time for him, for them. Something was missing.

Bebe gave Stan a disapproving little frown. "Alcohol Stanny? If someone gets hurt, I'm holding you responsible." she paused. "Unless it's Kenny. Wouldn't be a party if Kenny didn't end up with stitches." Her expression suddenly softened. Aha!

Stan opened a beer and caught Bebe's epiphanic expression. Oh shit. That was the look Wendy got when she got a 'really great idea'. Stan took a big step back, looking around for his wingmen but Kyle and Kenny seemed to have melded with the mingling crowd. Jesus Christ.

"Stan.. I need you."

"Right now?" Stan looked around, incredulous. "Here?" Jesus Christ!

Bebe shook her head and gave him a winning smile. "Over here…" she took his hand and led him towards the bonfire, completely missing his look of elated triumph.

Stan allowed himself to be led, his heart racing. I can't wait to tell Kyle. He looked around when they stopped next to a girl crouched near the bonfire poking it with a big stick. Wha-?

"You know Vivi, right? Have you guys had any classes together? No?" Bebe continued on making small talk to fill the silence.

Stan looked on confused as the girl stood and adjusted her hat. He nodded at Bebe. He remembered her from elementary school, seeing her here and there in junior high. He mostly remembered Cartman teasing her about being French, or something. What he didn't remember was her eyes. The blazing fire picked up glints of silver and gilded them, like the sun setting over an exotic sea. He didn't notice Bebe leave.

"So! You're my gofer?" Vivi asked cheerfully and clapped him on the shoulder.

Stan nodded obediently. "You want wood?" he asked and then cringed. Derrrrrrr! He pinched the bridge of his nose. Jesus Christ.

Vivi grinned and pointed to the fire with her makeshift poker. "Yeah. Flames are getting low."

Stan smiled weakly, suddenly overcome by a peculiar and vaguely familiar sensation. "Right. I'll go get some. Right.. now." He walked away briskly and then broke into a jog as he made for the nearest thicket of trees. As soon as he was safely out of sight, his guts heaved and the entire contents of his stomach lay in a steaming pile on the frozen ground.

That's what was missing.

*

The party, as was typical of a Bebe Stevens soiree, was smashing. Hot food, cold drinks, fresh air and exercise helped shake off the collective post-Thanksgiving turkey coma. Despite the sizable supply of alcohol (courtesy of Kevin McCormick's fake ID) the guests managed not to commit any regrettable acts under Bebe's watchful eye.

Craig Tucker skated alongside Ella Tweak, the breeze rippling the flaps of his blue chullo hat like streamers. He kept his hands in the pockets of his fitted and neatly buttoned navy pea coat. Both skaters were quick and agile on the ice and Craig found the simultaneous shushing of their blades very soothing. It nearly blocked out the tremendous racket generated by nearly five dozen complete idiots. More than once he'd had to pull Ella out of the path of a skater determined to go in the opposite direction of the flow.

Ella, for her part, didn't seem to mind and had taken to giving high fives to those who passed her going completely the wrong way. They'd had a friendly debate, she and Craig, about whether there actually was a 'right way' to go. All such arguments with Craig were doomed to a circular, pointless oblivion. According to Craig Tucker, there was ALWAYS a right and wrong way to do things. She nodded as he talked but giggled each time she passed Lucy Montgomery, a girl obviously dedicated to going the wrong way and initiator of the high five game.

Craig paused in the center of the ice and checked the time on his phone.

"I'm thirsty." He declared. "It's late. Are you going to Bebe's?"

Ella nodded, adjusting her white knitted cap.

"Meet me at the car at 11:30." He said. "Thirty minutes."

*

Bebe Stevens nudged Red and the pair watched Craig Tucker part ways with Ella.

"Finally!" Bebe said, looking peevish. "I was beginning to wonder if he was going to hunch over her like a gargoyle for the rest of the night."

"A Craigoyle?" Red offered as the pair skated in tandem, spiraling closer to the center of the pond.

Bebe was too annoyed to be amused. "There's Kenny. You know what to do."

Red nodded and sped towards the center ice, passing so close to Kenny she could smell beer, cigarettes and what might've been aftershave. Her near-miss forced him to skate backwards and directly into Ella Tweak's path. Red completed a circuit around the pond and oh-so-casually ended up at Bebe's side.

"Think it'll work?" Red asked, raising her eyebrows.

"It always works in the movies." Bebe insisted and then closed her eyes in annoyance when it became obvious the targets wouldn't collide and collapse in a sickeningly precious tangle of arms and legs.

"Lame." Cartman said, skating up beside Bebe.

*

Ella dug in her blades and skidded to a halt. She came dangerously close to colliding with Kenny McCormick, but had managed to stop about two feet short and succeeded spraying him with shaved ice.

She shook her head and brushed at his jacket with a white gloved hand.

"Sorry about that."

Kenny pitched his cigarette and watched Ella as she swept the ice from his hoodie. In the flashes from the bonfire, he caught little details of her sweater, the way her denim skirt hugged the curve of her thigh, the sheen of her tights. Her face in the alternating light and shadow was both gentle and tired, her nose sharpened by the contrast.

Ella straightened up and found Kenny studying her. She peeled off her gloves and flapped them around, shaking the ice from them.

"You're playing right into their hands you know." Kenny said, thin lips twitching.

"Hmm?" Ella cocked her head like a curious bird.

"You missed that?" Kenny asked, and then walked her through Red and Bebe's matchmaking machinations. "They've been watching too many movies." He concluded.

Ella smiled and shook her head. "So what happens now?" she asked.

"Well-" Kenny started and was promptly interrupted by a loud crack and explosion of red sparks in the sky overhead.

"Fireworks!" Ella clapped her bare hands and tipped her head up.

Despite an overcast start to the day, the night was clear and cold. Shells exploded overhead, bathing the awe-struck partygoers in flashes of blue, pulses of gold and showers of silver.

Ella watched, transfixed, even as Kenny moved closer to and bent low to be heard over the noise.

"If we were in a movie, this would be the part where our mutual attraction became too overpowering to resist." He placed a hand on her shoulder, desperately hoping she didn't feel the way it trembled. He nearly chickened out as she turned her head to look up at him. "The part where I say something desperately clever." He leaned in closer, cursing the difference in their height until the tip of his long nose touched hers. "You protest." He could feel the tremble in his hand make its way up his arm as their clouded breath commingled in the frosty air. "But underneath a canopy of fireworks we share a hungry, mind-blowing kiss."

Ella's eyes widened, but she didn't seem inclined to pull back even as his nose touched hers.

"What a cheesy movie." She said as Kenny's arm circled around her back.

"It's 11:35."

Kenny and Ella slowly turned their heads and were confronted by an impassive Craig Tucker. He showed Ella his phone.

"11:36." Craig corrected.

Ella took a deep cleansing breath and skated back from Kenny. She gave him a little wave and allowed Craig to pull her away by her sleeve.

Craig tucked his phone back in his pocket and flipped Kenny the finger over his shoulder.

"I fucking hate Craig." Kenny said, to no one in particular.

*

Dude. I literally had to chop this chapter in half because it was obscenely long. I'm pretty sure it would have been a crime against fandom to post a chapter that long. So rather than try to jam it all in one chapter, Lucy Montgomery will come out to play in Chapter 9 for a little Craig torture and slumber party weirdness. Miss Vivi will return also. I'll clean it up a little and post it tomorrow. It's like 4 a.m. GAH! O.o

"Shake That" by Eminem feat. Nate Dogg. (That song just sounds like something Cartman might listen to while trying to look completely awesome in his new car.)

Mozart's Symphony no 40 – look it up YouTube and try headbanging to it. It works, I swear.

Spelling and grammar are bound to be atrocious given the hour. I apologize. I'm too much of a lazy hippie to fix it now.

Lastly: Craigoyle © me! Who wants one?! ^.^