KYLE
I'm not sure what to say about Cartman's house. Everything was so... I don't know. Weird? Interesting? Teenagerish? In Style? No, it was so Cartman.
When I first peered inside everything was slick and of the new age, yet comfortable. Everything had geometrical shape to it, though wasn't geometrical when it wasn't supposed to be. Like the coffee table was all glass and had a circular surface, but the couch was perfectly stuffed when Cartman motioned to sit down. Though there were also posters with German words on them that I couldn't understand. There were also posters with different singers, writers, and movie stars.
"So," Cartman said in a business-like fashion, "what a coincidence that you ran into me. Where exactly were you going?"
"To, Morgan's house." I lied.
Cartman studied my face, "You're not a good lier, Jew."
"I know I'm not." I said quickly, "I wanna keep it to myself."
Cartman lost his business look and said, "Fine, whatever. Though I'll find out sooner or later. It's about one on my kitchen clock. The storm is dying down a bit. I could drive you back to your house or you can go to were ever your 'friends house' is."
I looked at him as if he's serious. Cartman is never this kind to me. Then I thought he just wants me out of his house. "Can I stay?" I decided. I want to annoy him like good times.
"Maybe... if you have lunch with me."
What a strange request. This is not the Cartman I know. Though he might be up to something. "Sure, fatass."
"Aye! I'm not fat." He argued.
"Sure, fatass" I said casually, "Do you know what you mom's cooking?"
"My mom's not cooking."
"Then who is?"
"Couldn't you tell? I am." Cartman lifted his a eye brow, "Unless you want to."
"Oh no, I am not cooking." I said.
"Well why did you ask, stupid Jew?"
"Just curious." I said. He shrugged and went to the kitchen. I texted my mom I was at 'my friend's house'. It was a pretty good lie, even though I know they wouldn't cover me like... Stan! Yesterday we planned to talk about our affairs this morning at his house and try to make up. Shit was I forgetful. Though how could I forget something like that?
I checked his contact on my phone. Oh, lucky me. He sent about eleven texts and two missed calls. My only chance getting back together with him.
"Food is ready!" He called. The smell of spaghetti filled my nostrils. He placed both of the dishes on the table. It smelled so good. It was just like Ms. Cartman's cooking.
When I greedily reached out for a dish Eric warned, "There's beacon in it!"
I stared at him. Should I give a shit? Then took the plate and started inhaling the spaghetti.
"Woah! Jesus Christ, Jew." He said. I finished the plate faster then he did. I was so hungry. He only ate one forth of the portion.
"That, is how you eat, fatass." I said. He nodded of approval.
"Who knew the skinny Jew could eat?"
"One thing you didn't know about me." I said.
"Did you like the beacon?" He asked.
I frowned, "Maybe." I said.
Cartman laughed, a strong laugh. It made me join in. When I looked back at him I could of sworn his eyes glinted thew old brown color. It went back to blue afterwards. He giggled, "Wow, your mom is going to kill you so bad."
"Probably," I admitted, "Unless you don't tell."
"Sure, I mean, I would love to see you eat more beacon."
I rolled my eyes. "I bet so."
"Maybe a hamburger with beacon and for your Jew rat cravings, milted cheese."
"Mice eat cheese not rats, you douche bag." I said.
"I don't give a shit. Who cares?"
"Anyways, who are you going to work with for Geometry class?"
"What?" He asked blankly. He probably didn't know there's was a group project.
"There's a group quiz in class Monday. Just wanted to know if you could be in my group. You know that our teacher doesn't allow late quizzes, even though you were out."
"She also allows students to work on there own. I'll work by myself on this. I always work alone these days. I'm better alone."
"That's fine." I said, a little disappointed. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I'll do fine." He said.
"Oh yeah, where's your mother?" I asked. I forgot to ask him earlier.
"She is resting." He said, waving his hand dismissively.
Resting? Strange. She isn't that kind of person. Especially when visitors are here. "Is she okay?"
"If you ask me, she's okay. It is probably tuff trying to raise me. She needed a... a break." He said. Another strange thing he said. Why would he admit that he was a bad kid? I mean, I'm looking at the same person who didn't care about anybody. Or was this the same person?
"Is she sick?" I asked.
Cartman gave me a clear warning with one glance, but I really wanted to know.
"I'm serious." I said, "Is she sick?"
"She's fine." He'd assured. "She's just resting."
"Cartman," I said, "I deserve to know."
"Do you?" He asked a little shakily.
"Of course I do, I'm you friend." I said.
"Friend?" He asked. His voice lost it's calm tone. "You called me a friend? Are you kidding me?!"
"Easy, Cartman" I managed, trying my best to have a calming voice, but whatever came out was shaky and didn't work. I didn't want a fight. Especially with Cartman.
"My mother is dead!" He yelled. Tears now poring down his cheeks. His eyes a colder blue. I was so surprised I couldn't move when he came up to me threw inches from me. With me sitting, he dominated my height.
"Would a friend not notice when someone is feeling down? Would a friend notice when the other is alone? You have no clue what I'm going through! Not you and your jolly life with your family!" Every time he had said friend I jumped. But the last sentence was not true. Nowadays, I despised my mom and family. It would be better without them.
I stood up face to face. I was as mad as he. "Oh, no. You have no fucking right to say how my life is! I bet that your life isn't half as bad as mine. You said it yourself, you're 'better alone'."
He grabbed me and pushed me up against the wall, arm against neck. I was to frustrated to be scared. Though held a plate above my head. "You think you know so much about me since you hung out with me since kids. Though you know nothing."
"I know exactly who you are. You are the spoiled fucking brat from pre-k." I spat. By this point, I don't even know if he knew who he is.
"Sure you do, you know everything, kike!" He spat back.
I through spit on his face, though he didn't wipe it off. Instead, he broke the dish a certain way to leave a knife like shard. I lost all my courage. He swung his hand making me cringe, but he stopped just in time. It was just touching my skin. Then he dropped it. I was mouthing a jewish prayer saying thank you in Hebrew.
"Don't thank your Jewish god." He said with his voice back to usual as if he read my mind. He looked into my eyes before letting me go slowly. "Should I tell you the truth?"
"Yeah" I managed. I gulped, I wasn't 100% sure if I want to hear the truth,but he continued.
"Never mind," he said, "sigh* you won't like the truth. Just... go home. Be with your family. Try... try to keep them together. Family is more important then you think."
What was this new Cartman? What should I say? Best not to say anything. The only thing you wanted to do was get out of here Kyle, I told myself. Cartman watched carfully when I took a step to the right. One moment I lifted my foot as Cartman screamed my name, the next was in an unfamiliar room that smelled of mothballs.