"Hey, did Wendy call you yesterday?" Stan whispered to Kyle.

"Yeah. I didn't have anything to tell her."

Stan felt disappointed. He hoped that Wendy would get the answers she was searching for. Wendy was certain that something happened, at least on Bebe's end. Wendy would know because she paid attention to that stuff.

Stan had no clue. Maybe he should have but he had accepted that this was how Kyle was now: distant and secretive.

If Kenny were here, he might be able to eke out some of the truth, but Kenny had gone on one of his frequent absences for unspecified reasons. Kyle was on edge and distracted while watching Bebe from afar. No, not just watching. Concentrating, as if he could discover something by staring at her head. Every time Bebe looked over (crossly) back at Kyle, Kyle would lower his head. Others, though, were catching on, and Stan took it upon himself to poke Kyle a few times in class so that his interest wouldn't be that obvious to everyone else.

"Let's sit somewhere else," Stan suggested at lunch. He steered Kyle to another corner of the cafeteria. Away from the girls and away from Cartman (who loudly declared that whatever they were up to was gay and he wanted no part of it anyway.) Christ, he badly needed a drink.

He waited until they had started eating before bringing up Bebe again. Kyle answered in monosyllables. When Stan brought up, in the vaguest sense possible, how Wendy was worried, Kyle finally asked, "Why doesn't she know?"

His tone had taken some strange hostility, and Stan was taken aback for a second. "Because Bebe wouldn't tell her."

"Why not?"

Stan automatically rose to his ex's defense. "Dude, this isn't Wendy's fault."

"I'm not saying that." The way Kyle wadded one of his napkins suggested that he blamed someone for this gap in information.

"Look, I trust Wendy's judgment on this," Stan explained. "She usually doesn't share personal stuff about the girls. She'll talk on and on about who likes which boy and whether one of them got new shoes or something stupid like that, but nothing, you know, serious. But apparently she thinks this is serious."

"Okay, but I still think she'd be better off asking Bebe herself. And I told her that." Kyle started gathering his garbage. "Is that all you wanted?"

"Well, you were staring at Bebe a lot today," Stan pointed out. "And I'm not the only one who noticed."

"Okay, I'll stop. I wouldn't want to weird you out again."

"Hey, why are you snapping at me?" Stan asked. "I just thought you might know more about Bebe's situation. It would really help Wendy out."

Kyle breathed out. "I fucked up on something. I'm going to fix it."

"By yourself?"

"I don't know yet. I'll let you know when I have a plan."

"Why not let me know now? I can help," Stan found himself pleading. "Come to my place after school."

"I can't. I have to stop at Kenny's to get him his homework. And his lunch," Kyle nodded to the extra bag Stan had brought.

"That's fine. How about you come by for dinner? My mom will pick you up when she gets off work."

Kyle's nose wrinkled in distaste. "No."

"Dude, you've had dinner at my place for years." Stan thought of a more truthful reason. "You don't like my new house much, do you?"

"Stan, you let Sparky eat off your plate, and after what your dad did to the kitchen table-"

"Wait, what?" Stan squeaked.

"Never mind." Kyle immediately shut his mouth and started to turn away but Stan grabbed his arm.

"What did my dad do to the table? You've got to tell me. It can't be as bad as what I'd imagine."

"Yeah, it can. Your mind isn't that dirty."

"And yours is?" Stan posed as a joke.

Kyle only looked at him pitying before leaving to throw out his trash.

"What did you do with your gayfest?" Cartman smirked. Kyle got stuck riding across the aisle from him on the way home.

"Nothing. He wanted to ask me something about Wendy," Kyle answered. "I told you it wasn't personal."

"Man, they're not even dating and Stan's so pussy-whipped. He's so gay."

Kyle glared at him half-heartedly. "Dude, do you even know what words mean?"

"It's gay because Stan is the guy and he should be laying down the law, not running errands for Wendy — who he's not even dating — like a housewife. It's gay."

The bus arrived at the boy's usual stop. Kyle noticed that Cartman was following him. "I'm going to Kenny's."

"Why? Kenny's poor."

"To give him his homework."

"Since when does Kenny do homework?"

"He's been getting a lot of A's lately. He wants to set a good example for Karen."

"Oh, no! You made him boring with your Jew magic, didn't you? I insist you stop!"

"If you're so worried about Jewish magic, why do you want to go to my house so much?"

"Because you're the only one that has a normal house anymore. I don't want to have to do hippie farm chores or get eaten by rats in the slums. I wanna play video games."

"Then why don't you go to Tolkien's? He's got better stuff than I do."

"He won't let me come over anymore."

"Can't imagine why."

"Please, Kahl, I'm so bored!" Cartman cried out. Kyle dared to probe in the other boy's head — always a risky journey — in case there was a more serious reason he didn't want to go home, but, nope, Cartman really was just bored. The four had not really hung out together much outside of school since Stan moved away, Cartman was wearing out his welcome with the Other Guys, and Butters' video games were too babyish.

"Sorry. Kenny's waiting." Kyle sighed. "You could try to apologize and promise not to touch Mr. Black's golf clubs again-"

"Ay! Jew magic! Get behind me, Satan!" Cartman thrust up his two index fingers in the shape of a cross as he backed away from Kyle before turning and running off.

He hiked over to Kenny's. Karen let him in, putting a finger to her lips while thinking to Kyle that Kenny had a headache left over from his last death. Kyle followed her upstairs as quietly as he could and stopped at Kenny's room.

Kenny sat up in his bed. "I died again."

"I know."

"There was a hole in my head," Kenny said dramatically. "There's probably still a mark. Look and see if there's a scar where the hole would have been."

"It's not a hole, Kenny. The top of your head was sheared off." Kyle set Kenny's bag next to the nightstand.

A gutter had fallen loose from the house and sliced down into Kenny's head. It had become a big gory mess that Kyle would have found horrifying and sickening six months ago. He still had trouble getting to sleep the night before after seeing it.

"Sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry, as long as you didn't do it on purpose." Kyle still was livid about when Kenny had shot himself several weeks ago. That had caused his last really bad panic attack. It didn't matter if Kenny expected to get revived within a few hours. Kyle made clear he did not want to see that, and definitely not for a reason as lame as Kenny didn't want to walk across town. What if Kenny didn't come back? What if he missed and made himself a vegetable instead? What if Karen found out what he had done? Kyle had been unable to relax for hours afterwards, even after he had screamed holy hell at Kenny for killing himself.

"You're never going to get over that, are you?" Kenny asked, revealing only a tiny bit of curiosity.

"Nope."

"Aw, that's so sweet," Kenny slurred. "I love it when my clingy girlfriend worries about me."

"Cut it out." Though Kyle really was worried. Somebody had to remind Kenny that his weird power didn't make him expendable.