Cartman is a total douche. I really didn't want to help him, but this was my only opportunity to do something for once. If I did this, I wouldn't have to worry about Stan going back to Wendy.

I was sitting in the corner of the basement alone and had been since Cartman had left. What have I gotten myself into? I'm pretty sure that moment of weakness for Cartman was a one time deal… he'll probably kill me if I don't do it now. Fuck! Never do anything for Cartman; how could I have just disregarded that; thinking that he actually cared about Wendy! He's probably only using it to take advantage of her. I gasped out loud; what if it's a set up for Stan? What if the potion isn't even really for Wendy! I wouldn't be surprised if all that crying wasn't real either. Fuck this is bad! This is very, very bad!

I continued sitting in my corner for a long time. It had to be at least nine in the morning by now, but I didn't really care. I felt like I should just die for believing Cartman… for everything… we'd all be better off that way. Especially Stan. Especially Wendy, I have to make her fall in love with Cartman. If it weren't for me she and Stan could still be together, and Cartman wouldn't have to worry about her anymore, because I'd never have a chance. He never had a chance with her in the first place, that's why he needed the love potion.

I never had a chance with Stan, did I?

I looked up solemnly from my arms hugging my knees into my chest. I'm going to have to make him a love potion even if it was a trap. If I don't; Cartman will come gunning for me because I didn't make him one, but if I do make him one and he uses it on Wendy and it fails; her parents and the FBI will come gunning for me because I killed her! I still had to.

I forced myself to stand from the corner and wiped my face on my sleeve, then walked over to my open notebook already open to the right page on my table. I really should get a separate desk down here for my notebook and other notes. Hell knows I'll be taking a bunch when this gets started.

I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath, then looked at the page. First was the list of ingredients.

2 tablespoons black tea

1/2 tablespoon strawberry juice

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

10 grams chili powder

5 grams lemon zest

5 grams cinnamon

1/8 tablespoon nutmeg

1 drop human blood

It didn't look that hard to make, I probably have most of the ingredients here at home already. At least for the ones I don't have I can probably get at the supermarket, I've been taught some potions by Mrs. McGilroy that call for the liver of a blasphemous Jew. And about the blood; all Voodoo potions need blood. Once the last ingredient is added you need a drop of blood to kind of seal it so when you lace someone's drink it wont mess up the potion.

And I'll only ever have to make this one.

I ran upstairs to the kitchen with my list of ingredients; I might as well get this over with. My parents only drink coffee, so I put a check next to the black tea and strawberry juice so I'd remember to get them later at the store.

I grabbed the brown bottle of vanilla from our spice cabinet along with a big jar of cinnamon, but I couldn't find any chili powder or nutmeg. In the refrigerator we only had one slice of lemon left, so I figured I might as well get more. I grabbed what I had, along with a cheese grater, some measuring spoons, and my brother's metric scale from his science project from under the sink and returned to the basement. The spice and vanilla went on the table in an empty spot I had cleared with the utensils and scale.

Next was getting the things I didn't have. I ran upstairs to my dad's study where he was sitting at his desk busy on his computer. I walked up behind him as quietly as I could.

"Hey, Dad?" I asked, and he jumped a little in his chair, then swiveled around. "Can I have twenty bucks? I want to get something at the grocery store."

He blinked at me a couple of times, then reached for his wallet, "Sure, Kyle." He said, and pulled out a twenty. "You want me to drive you?"

I took the bill and ran for the door, "No, I'll walk. I need to get out of the house."

Once the door of the study was closed behind me I could breath again. I shoved the money in my pocket next to the list of things to get, then walked nonchalantly down the stairs and to the door like nothing was going on. The walk to the grocery store from my house isn't very long—small town you know—so it only took me fifteen minutes to get there.

Inside, I went to get the tea and the spice first. They were in the same isle, so it didn't take too long to find. I crossed off black tea, chili powder, and nutmeg, then went to produce and got the best three lemons I could find. You know, incase I need extra lemons. The last thing to get was strawberry juice, which took me forever to find because they didn't have any out front, and I had to ask a worker to check in the back because it was 'important'. Coincidentally they only had one box in stock because no one ever buys strawberry juice because A.) no Voodoo's live in South Park, and B.) who the hell has ever heard of strawberry juice?

I could tell the employee was a little skeptical about all my purchases the way he kept reading the labels. He could have just came right out and asked me if I were a Voodoo and why I needed strawberry juice so badly. They cashier at the front gave me weird looks too, so I tried not looking directly in their face. The twenty bucks my dad gave me also barely covered my purchase because the fucking lemons were three twenty each, and strawberry juice is expensive.

I knew this would probably be the only time today I'd be outside my basement, so I took the long way home through the park. It wasn't snowing now, but there was still some on the ground, but it wasn't soft like when it fell. In a few hours after being in the sun it'll be slush, and that's the one thing I'm happy for since I'm spending the day in the basement. At least I won't miss snow. I didn't take too long though, I didn't want the strawberry juice to go bad or something stupid like that.

I came back to an empty house; my mom was at work and my dad had taken Ike out to buy him some new brand science calculator and he didn't want my dad to pick up the wrong one. Again. So I was alone, and that was fine with me.

I ran down to the basement and laid out all my ingredients then checked over the recipe. It looked like it only took an hour or so to make, so that was a good thing. Before I started, I emptied Sammy's water, then walked back over to the table.

The first thing to do was boil two cups of water on a stove. I ran upstairs to my dad's study and found his camping gas burner in a white box under a tone of crap and brought it down to the basement. My dad never goes camping, so he won't miss it. I made sure to open the basement window in the front of the house when I had come back from the store to let the fumes out, then I got my face mask and put it over my mouth and nose. Voodoo potion fumes are deadly too.

I was pretty sure that's as safe as I could get, so I grabbed the match box from the same box the burner was in and turned on the gas a little and lit it up. I ran back upstairs and got a pot and a measuring cup full of water, and put them on the burner.

I had to wait until the water came to a boil, then having not have brought a cup with me, used a flask to hold to boiling water. The next step was to put the black tea into the water, so I pulled out a teabag from the box I had bought and ripped it open, then dropped all the pieces in. It worked fine, but I had to reach in after and pull out all the little shriveled leaves and other things. I felt really stupid after that.

Next was the strawberry juice, which had to be added cold, so I had to wait half an hour while it cooled in my mini fridge. I took it out then, and spilled it all over my table while trying to pour it into the small half tablespoon. The second I added it to the black tea, it turned a bright yellow. Normally, if you put strawberry juice in black tea, it might get cloudy because that's what it does… but if you're a Voodoo, just pouring stuff into other stuff you give off this kind of spark. I'm not even sure what it is, but works.

I know I said I wasn't too excited to be making my first Voodoo potion, but when I saw it change colors like that, I nearly screamed because it worked. So far so good.

Next was the vanilla that had to also be boiled first without water, so I poured the gist of the bottle into my pan and watched it sizzle. It gave off the greatest smell, I could even smell it through my face mask, and that's probably a bad thing. The potion so far didn't have any fumes because it was just black tea and strawberry juice, but this was definitely going to give it something. I dropped in the teaspoon of vanilla and it turned a bright white and immediately started smelling like a strawberry smoothie.

For the next step I had to take out my brother's scale and measured out ten grams of chili powder. Personally, I felt like a drug dealer. It was kind of fun. I slid the powder off the scale directly into the mixture and the whole flask shook then gave a single rattling spark of fire, then went out and began glowing a dull orange.

I found out that lemon zest was shavings of the lemon's skin after looking it up in a dictionary, then used our cheese grater to get five grams onto the scale, and nearly skinned myself in the process. Adding that made it a brighter orange. Cinnamon made it a reddish brown color.

This thing called for a hell of a lot of nutmeg, which I dumped in, making the potion a bright glowing red. It was done. And it really only took me an hour. I was ready to smash the thing on the cement floor and leave it at that, but I still had to give it to Cartman. And even before I do that… I have to give the last ingredient.

How do the goth kids do it? I never see them all doing it… but in the bathroom once I caught the red haired one in a stall with a pair of scissors to his wrist. He had the open blade to his skin and—my god I get squeamish even when I think about it!

I stood above my table, and more importantly the potion, thinking this, and trembled a little then shook it off. I had to do this. What if I slip and actually hurt myself? Shut up Kyle, you're cutting yourself, it's going to hurt anyway!

I ran upstairs to get a knife from the kitchen before I could talk myself out of it. I came back down and stood above the table again, with the knife shaking in my palm above my wrist, my wrist above the flask. I only have to do it this once. I closed my eyes and pressed it to my skin, it was cold, but I didn't care. It didn't hurt as bad as I thought it would, and when I opened my eyes, it was over.

I dropped the knife on the table and pressed my finger close to my cut to squeeze out a drop and it fell into the potion. I guess that means it's done. I looked back at my wrist; the cut wasn't so bad, you couldn't really see it, I can just wear a Band-Aid over it or my jacket. I picked up the potion and swished it around in my hand. It wasn't even that much, I could probably swallow the thing in one gulp. I guess it was a recipe for like a shot or something, that way it'd be easy to put into someone's drink.

I liked the way it glowed on it's own. It was mesmerizing.

Down to business. I'm pretty sure I didn't mess anything up in the recipe, but I wanted to be sure so Wendy—or whoever is going to drink this—won't, you know, die. But, at the same time, I didn't want to give it to Sammy, what if he dies? I know I've only had him since last year, but he's like a part of the family. He's like a pet dog. Who poisons their own dog?

But, it doesn't really matter, I have to. By now he was getting restless from not having anything to drink, so I took his old baby bottle and filled it with water, and added half of the potion. I walked over to his cage and opened it. I didn't even realize then when I took him out I was crying, literally crying.

I'm not a good Witch, or Witch Doctor, and I'm certainly not a good Voodoo. There's no way my first potion is successful. There's just no way, but I have to do this. I have to. There's nothing I can do.

I put him down on the ground and sat in front of him, and gave him his bottle while continuing to cry out of control now, he's going to die, Wendy's going to die, I'm going to die, why the hell did I have to agree to this. He took the bottle in his tiny firsts and chugged it. He put it down empty, and looked me dead in the eyes, and I saw his pupils dilate strangely while taking me in, and I stopped breathing.

The next thing I knew he was running around me making strange 'ooh' noises, then ran to the fake potted tree in the corner by the door and started shaking a branch continually. I walked over to him cautiously seeing as he wasn't on his back gasping and choking down air, and he crawled up to my shoulders and started picking at my hair like he was trying to groom me.

I pulled him off and looked at him in the face with his weird dilated eyes and recognized the behavior from the many books I had read after I had got him. "It worked." I breathed. "The potion worked." I couldn't believe it. I let him crawl back up to my head to continue picking my scalp as I went over to my beanbag to sit down and take this in.

I sat there thinking about how much I had worried, and to be honest, how nice it felt with Sammy picking my scalp. I truly couldn't believe it had worked, because, you know, everything else usually blows up in my face. I was so surprised and happy, I actually smiled. I smiled a big, goofy, outrageous smile, and took off my face mask and hung it on a hook by the door as I went upstairs to my room.

I slept the rest of the day, and for once, I didn't have the usual nightmare. I did have a dream though; I was running through a forest in the middle of the mountains with a love potion in a big container slung over my shoulder. It was weird, it was like a hollowed branch with two glass stripes so you could see the potion inside, and the only light I had as I was running was the glowing red light of the potion. I really liked that vile, I wonder if they make those.

I kept running until I found the back of the school, and I was walking through the playground behind the school, but no one seemed to notice me. Suddenly, a teacher came up and started screaming at me for having an illegal Voodoo potion. I began to run away, but everyone was chasing me, and I was running in deep snow. They were all about to catch up with me when I woke up.

It was five in the morning when I woke myself up, and I couldn't go back to sleep after that, so I just laid in my bed awake for what felt like forever. Sammy had stayed with me all night and was now up too walking around my room circling my bed and sometimes coming up to join me, but I just stared at my ceiling.

Voodoo potions are illegal. They're illegal. I could go to Juvenile Hall for the rest of my life—or at least until I'm eighteen. Cartman's probably only doing this to turn me in. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I finally had something to be happy about—proud even!—and now this! Fuck! I hate my life.

I pulled my left hand out from under my blanket and used the light of my electric clock to light up my wrist to examine my cut. It wasn't that dark, it was already starting to scab, maybe it wouldn't leave a scar. Plus, it's only this one.

I found myself looking at it blankly for what I personally figured was too long, and pulled it back under the covers. It's just a single scratch, no one is going to notice. Definitely not… Stan. God, if he saw… this… he won't see it. Stan can't see the cut, he'd freak out. He'd accuse me of hanging out with those faggy goth kids, and that's the last thing I'd need. I just… don't want him to worry about me. Pfft, as if. He wouldn't care about me if I stood on the edge of my roof. Again with the suicidal.

I groaned to myself and turned over in my sheets, then remembered all the evidence I had left out in the basement and ran downstairs. I was so careless I even left out the strawberry juice. I put everything back in it's box and the ingredients in boxes left over from my new test tubes. The juice and the rest of the potion I put in my mini fridge, after bottling the potion in a pocket sized jar and corking it.

After all that, and a few minutes of slowing down while sitting in my corner and thinking, I decided I was going to enjoy today no matter what, because I need a vacation. I called Stan once it was later and after I had eaten breakfast, and we agreed to play video games at his house. I made sure to put on my extra big jacket before I left so I could cover my wrist, and unfortunately, I found after I left the house, that today was going to be eighty-degree weather. Perfect.

Stan answered the door when I arrived—sweating—and invited me in. The first words out of his mouth?

"Dude, Kyle, you want to take off your jacket? It's like eighty-fucking-degrees out." He walked me over to his TV where his Xbox was already on and at the Guitar Hero main menu.

I sat, and grabbed a plastic guitar, "No, I'm fine. I like it this warm." I lied.

He went ahead and chose the first song for us, "You sure? You look like you're about to keel over. Seriously, take it off. You look really uncomfortable."

I shook my head, and the song started, "I'm not taking it off, don't ask me again, I can wear what I want. You're not my mom." I said, more forcefully than I had intended.

He was silent until the end of the song, if he talked he'd mess up. Eventually he said as I picked the next song, "Alright, sorry." He lowered his voice to a whisper to say under his breath, "No need to be so acid." But I heard it anyway.

I didn't say anything back. I felt kind of bad. The rest of the day was awkward, and I left an hour earlier than planned, but he didn't say anything about it, so I left. I cursed myself all the way home. The rest of the day at home wasn't so hot either. My parents and Ike had gone out for dinner because I wasn't home, and told me via sticky note that I found stuck to our refrigerator, and they didn't come home until late. They said they would have brought me home some, but they ended up eating mine. I lied and told them it was okay because I'd eaten already at Stan's house, then went to bed early out of having nothing else to do.

I miss the days before I had a crush on Stan.

I woke up in the morning feeling horrible as usual, and got up only because I had school and I had to give Cartman his love potion so he wouldn't kill me. My lunch was already made and sitting on the counter, so I grabbed it and went down to the basement to get the love potion out of the fridge, then snuck it in. I ran back upstairs to my room quickly before I had to leave and cut a pair of my tube socks into finger-less gloves that went up just past my wrists and put them on. They covered the scab that had started to peel off accidentally.

By then it was too late to eat breakfast if I wanted to get to school on time, I ran out the door without a word, and down the street all the way to the Elementary School. I needed to get there early to see if Cartman had put the money in my locker.

I reached the school fence in record time, and ran into the building down the hall toward my locker. I opened it and a little envelope fell out onto the floor. I ripped it open and inside was a hundred-dollar bill, and a note written in obscure handwriting. The only words I recognized were Jew, potion, and Cartman's locker number. I guess he wanted to meet me there. I groaned out loud; his locker was on the other side of the school.

"Kyle, what's wrong?" Came a voice from behind me in response to my groan.

I whipped around, shoving the money into my locker and slamming the door shut before they could see, and I found it was Wendy standing there with her backpack looking concerned. "Hi Wendy." Was all I managed to spit out.

She looked at me up and down, trying to find anything obviously wrong with me, she stopped at my hands, "I like your gloves, did you make them? They're cool." She said smiling.

I hid them behind my back and used my right hand to rub my cut through the fabric, "Yeah, tube socks." I said, looking down.

She laughed a little, "Can you make me some? They look really comfortable. I mean, if you want to. You don't have to if they're 'your thing'." She said.

I really didn't want to talk to her, not like this. Not when I was about to hand her heart to the sadistic bastard. I quickly pulled the gloves off my hands and handed them to her, "Here, just take them, I can make more." I said, then picked up my backpack and began walking off.

She followed, "Thanks Kyle, but you didn't have to give me yours." She said, god-fucking-dammit, why the hell does she have to be so nice!

I turned around to her and sighed, "Wendy, I like you, you're nice, but I don't think we should talk. I don't think I should talk to you…" I really didn't want to bring it up, but it was the only way to get her to stop making me feel guilty about doing this. "Not after you broke up with Stan. If he saw us talking, he might think something's going on."

She blinked a couple of times while looking at me, then laughed. "Kyle, what are you talking about? Of course we can talk, Stan said he was totally okay with us being friends, and I didn't dump him."

What she said last really caught my attention, "Wait, what?" I asked. "You're still dating?"

She shook her head, "No, we had a mutual break up. It's over, forever. We both just really didn't want to do the on/off thing anymore. It was too confusing." She said, then looked concerned again. "He didn't tell you that? I wonder why not." She said, and the fifteen-minute warning bell went off. "Well, I have to go, I'll see you later, alright?" She said, then began to walk off. "Bye, Kyle."

I stood there in the hallway a while dumbfounded about the whole conversation, then I remembered I had to give Cartman the love potion. I walked down the hall growing closer and closer to his locker, but with every step I felt worse and worse. There's no way I can let him do anything to Wendy, he could do anything to her if she were in love with him. I was really about to run for it this time, but I turned the corner and Cartman saw me and stood up from leaning against his locker and gestured me over to him.

"You brought it?" He asked in a low whisper.

I stared at him carelessly, "Yeah."

He then spoke louder, "Well, hand it over! I paid you already and everything!" He said, yup, good old Cartman.

I fished it out of my lunch box, but before I gave it to him I said, "Listen, Fatass, if anything happens to Wendy, I will kill you, alright?" I explained, he rolled his eyes.

"You really think I'd do anything stupid to Wendy? I know how her parents get! Jesus, Jew." He said, and took it from my hand and held it up to the light to examine it. "You sure this thing works?"

I pulled his arms down before anyone could see him waving around the illegal potion, and whispered annoyingly, "Listen Cartman, it works, but don't go showing it off to anyone! If anyone knows about it, we're both dead, got it!" I said, and he nodded with a groan. "Okay, here's how it works. All you have to do, it get her to drink it straight, or put it in her drink. Once she takes a single sip, she'll fall in love with the next living thing she sees, and it better for god sakes be you, or I will kill you, got that?" I asked. "You only get one shot, or it's another hundred dollars, understand? No one else will know about this!" I yelled, and he just groaned again.

"Yeah, yeah, don't get your thong in a bunch, I read about it online." He said, waving me off, then put the potion in his locker as the five-minute warning bell rang. "You can go now."

I scoffed, "Don't have to tell me twice." I said, then walked off to class.

I didn't see Stan all day at school before lunch, which was probably a good thing, because I completely forgot I had given my gloves to Wendy. Five minutes before lunch and I had made a new pair out of the ones I was currently wearing. I found him sitting with Kenny and Butters at lunch at our usual table, so I joined them, and we had a normal conversation about how the white patch on Stan's dog looks like Michigan.

In the middle of lunch, everyone's head's turned as Cartman and Wendy walked in the lunchroom arm in arm, with Wendy literally clinging to him. Maybe I'm not such a bad Voodoo after all. They walked synchronized and smiling, then sat down with Craig and his friends at the table a little ways away from ours. I immediately turned back to Stan as everyone else turned back to their food; his mouth was hanging slightly open. Something told me their breakup wasn't as mutual as Wendy made it seem.

He was in shock the rest of the day and even in Witch class where he messed up a spell in front of everyone—well, almost everyone. Wendy had ditched to hang out with Cartman. He was really messed up. I decided to ask him about it during the second part of class where we all just take notes quietly. It wasn't hard, he sits next to me.

"Dude, Stan, you alright?" I asked in a low voice.

He nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine." He said, he sounded pretty assuring, but I didn't buy it.

"You sure?" I asked. "I mean, during school you were pretty much out of it, and now you're spacing out in Witch class. That never happens." I really didn't want to ask my next question. "Are you jealous of Cartman?"

He shook his head, "No, Ky, I'm over Wendy, seriously, stop worrying about that. I just…" He shook his head again. "I just can't believe it."

"Same." I lied, then continued to copy notes awkwardly because he didn't notice his leg was touching mine under the table and I was too embarrassed to say anything or move mine. Plus I kind of liked it. But anyway, I still didn't believe he was really that alright.

Witch class ended, and he waved good-bye to me through the window, then Witch Doctor class started. It wasn't as fun as Witch class because Stan wasn't in it. Voodoo was the worst, because I felt like I could make any of these potions successfully now, but I still had to listen to Mrs. McGilroy drone on about them. We had extra time at the end of class because the lesson was short, so she even went over the safety guidelines I have to be taught every year as part of regulation. On and on about fumes and precautions. I wanted to kiss the ground once class was over.

I was so excited to go home today with Stan, I ran to the front gate of the school to find he wasn't standing there like he usually was; he had gone home. For a second I felt abandoned, then I remembered he doesn't got home with me on Mondays, so I walked home alone exceptionally slow.

I dragged my feet up to the front door and opened it lazily and stepped inside. I dropped my bags by the door, but I didn't bother taking my work down to the basement to get started on homework, instead I flopped down on the couch in our family room and turned on the TV. The show that came on was The Jersey Shore; I hate that show. I watched it anyway.

Just as it ended, the doorbell rang. No one else was home, so I got up to answer it myself. I pulled the door open to find Craig standing on my doorstep looking at me blankly.

"Uh, hi." I said, opening the door wider when I saw it was just him. "What's up?"

He just continued to stare at me, then said plainly, "I need a favor."

Go ahead and guess