Chapter 2

Wendy had expected Cartmen to ramp up on bothering her in the weeks that followed the bus stop incident, but he stayed surprisingly subdued. Sure, he made a couple cracks about her body if he happened to be near her before class, but otherwise, he made no attempt to directly contact her. Instead, she was left with her own inner doubts, fears and hopes, stewing up a perfect storm in her psyche.

"It would be awesome to go to that university- on a full ride scholarship, no less!" the little angel on her left shoulder whispered.

"Oh yeah, but who wants to play 'lions' with big old hulking Cartman?" leered the shoulder demon sitting on her right, smoking some kind of ethereal cigarette, wearing a pleated mini skirt and flashing her panties at the angel out of spite.

"Now, now, she's not guaranteed to lose," the angel retorted sitting up indignantly with her floor length gown draped gracefully around her, "And she honestly did get into the school that he's hoping to get her into."

"Oh, yeah, and you think *I'm* the demon here," the demon scoffed, flicking bits of ash from the cigarette in the angel's face, "You totally know that Cartman's not up to any good and he probably hurt a lot of people to pull the strings to get that scholarship, if he even ever did. Have you ever considered that maybe he's AIMING to win?"

"Why do you always think the worst of others," the angel shouted in an uncharacteristically loud voice, "You're just a big old ruffian and if I had my way, I'd..."

"Oh stop right there, bubsy-kins," the demon rolled her eyes, "Don't even think that you're some kind of bed of roses to deal with either, why just the other day I-"

"WOULD YOU TWO PLEASE SHUT UP!" Wendy shouted, and both of them simultaneously fell off her shoulders and began both pouting and floating in midair in front of her.

"You don't have to shout," the demon said.

"Seriously," the angel agreed, "We're right here, you know."

"Listen," Wendy addressed them both, "I know you're both trying to help, and I know that this is part of the whole South Park weird-shit-that-never-happens-anywhere-else-for-some-reason thing, but seriously, you guys are just making it worse. So please, whatever it is that I have to say to get you guys off my back, I just need some time alone to think."

"That's good enough," they both said simultaneously, and vanished.

Wendy walked her bike out of the junior college's bike rack and hopped on it. It was a good, brisk fall day for a ride. The somewhat cool breeze hinted at a cold winter coming, but for the moment, it was still a great time to get out and move. She wrapped a scarf around her neck to fight against the wind chill factor and pushed off, pedaling through town with her earbuds blasting her favorite music- mostly techno and electronica to keep up with the frenzied pace of her legs. When she was bicycling, she was free. Nothing could touch her, no one could stop her, and she could move so much more quickly than when she was walking along with her short legs.

She felt a twinge in her stomach remembering just how easily Cartman had caught up to her. If he wanted to...he...

She shook her head, 'Can't think about that,' she reassured herself, pulling from her angry place- the swirling torrent of fiery rage that gave her so much strength on a regular basis.

Yeah, the anger felt good-comfortable like an old sweater- painting her cheeks red with fire and fury. She'd show stupid Cartman that she could play his game and win. She'd show him! And she'd laugh her ass off all the way to...how did he put it?..."Lesbian Bitch School!"

This was her only option. After all, it's always possible that her last two years of college funding would fall through too. She'd be stuck in South Park taking over for Mr. Garrison or working at some godawful retail store. God, the thought was more depressing than being Cartman's slave. She still felt shitty about accepting his terms, but she knew that there was no other way out of her situation, barring divine intervention.

"But wouldn't you know it," she muttered to herself above the noise of the beatbox in her ears, "It seems like Jesus only hangs out with dudes."

And unfortunately, her closest "dude" friends were off at college, probably making out with each other or something. She winced, feeling the betrayal all over again, that raw patch of broken heart when she learned it was all a lie, that she was just this shield against bigotry and hatred of all the homophobia from school. That she didn't matter as a person...as a woman...

The last part really stung. Wendy's heart of hearts knew that no one had ever really loved her, desired her, pursued her because they actually wanted her, and the pain of that was more than she could reasonably allow herself to feel.

She steeled herself against the painful memories. Things would change when she won that bet. She was sure of it. It was an ugly ray of hope in her otherwise hopeless situation, and she didn't want to give up. Not yet. Because honestly, there were all sorts of permanent solutions, far more permanent than giving her life to Eric Cartman.