Bebe finally let out the breath she didn't know she was holding when Kyle stiffly got to his feet. If he wasn't that hurt, then she could leave. Yet she remained rooted to her spot, with her conscience still nagging at her that she should do more to help.
Seeing the red trickle of blood that had dribbled down from his nose decided it for her.
Bebe shoved the door open, and unveiled herself slowly, as if she might scare him if she moved too abruptly. To her relief, he didn't seem the least bit startled at her arrival.
"You're bleeding," she informed him, keeping her tone purely matter of fact. "You can wash up in the art room."
He stared back at her. She bade Kyle to follow her and led him to the sink. "I'll get some ice," she said.
Before fetching the ice from the cafeteria, she did take a moment to fix the puffiness around her eyes. She made a passable job of it, at least. Then she crammed some ice cubes into a baggie and stalked back to the art room, where she borrowed a ragged towel to pad the ice pack.
Kyle squinted at her in that same bothersome way. "What are you looking at?"
"Nothing," he backtracked quickly. "My eye stings a little."
She handed him the makeshift ice pack, and he braced it against the side of his cheek. "How's your nose? Is it broken?"
"It's fine."
"Craig's such a douche," Bebe offered as consolation. "Does he really think it'll help Tweek if he goes around beating people up? All he's going to do is give everyone something else to gossip about." She sighed. Craig's violent reaction must mean that the rumor about Tweek trying to kill himself was true. She did not want it to be true.
Kyle had not answered, but at least he had stopped staring. To occupy her already rattled mind, she sorted through the articles of makeup she had in front of her. She had a wider array of tones in her makeup collection at home, and while the ones she had on hand were suitable for covering her own facial aberrations in an emergency, they were too dark for Kyle's pale complexion.
"How many times have you done that?" Kyle asked out of nowhere.
"Done what?"
"Used makeup to cover a bruise."
"First of all, it's not just for bruises. I use them for zits and stuff. I help others with theirs. I've even masked a bruise for Kenny once. He said it was because of some Mysterion mission, though I'm pretty sure it wasn't," Bebe babbled easily. Everyone knew about the McCormicks, so it wasn't like she had revealed some sensitive secret.
She hoped that would never become her, that she would never be likened as the hopelessly messed up family. Face it, though, her mother did not have a good track record: first with Trip (the dealer of her bruises for a few months), then with Andre. She miraculously managed to keep the situation from becoming common knowledge. Even Wendy didn't know.
"Seriously?" Kyle asked. She ignored him, but he asked again. "Why don't you want Wendy to know about Andre?"
"Because she's almost as judgmental as you," Bebe put very little oomph in her sassy response. Like Kyle would ever understand what it felt like, being at the mercy of some trashy man.
"Hey, don't give me that. Is it really worth putting your safety at risk so that Wendy doesn't know?"
"It wouldn't have been at risk in the first place if you hadn't been prowling around my driveway. What the hell were you doing anyway?"
"I told you. I got his license plate number."
"Why?"
"To see if he has a police record or something. In case he tried it before."
Bebe froze. Quickly recovering herself, she stated, "If he did, he would have to tell people, right?"
"You can't count on South Park to enforce it," Kyle answered firmly. "I can find out if he's done any shady shit."
"Christ, you really think it's that easy, don't you?"
"Why can't it be? Wouldn't you at least want to know?"
Bebe affected another, more world-weary sigh. "Forget it. There's no point in talking to you."
Stan had awakened to a hammering headache. He took some hair of the dog to take the edge off of his hangover, but it had started to return with a vengeance.
"Okay, for science class today, we'll be making virgin Bloody Marys," Mrs. Garrison instructed. "At least, yours will be virgin," she chuckled to herself.
God, kill me, Stan thought. The last thing he wanted was to be teased by the pathetic substitute of the real thing.
"Okay if I partner with you?" Wendy asked, as she leaned over to his seat.
"Huh? Oh, sure."
Wendy plunked her science notebook on his desk. "Good. Bebe's been acting really weird today and the other girls aren't helping."
"Bebe isn't here," Stan stated the obvious. Neither were Kyle or Craig.
"I know, but-" Wendy's self-defense petered out. "I don't know what's going on. I've tried to text her but she's not answering."
They were well underway with the assignment when Craig arrived with a self-satisfied grin plastered to his face. Because everyone else had a partner, Craig headed towards Token and Clyde. Shortly afterward, Kyle showed up, and Mrs. Garrison stated, "All right, since Craig also arrived late, you two can be partners."
"Fuck that," Craig said.
"Kyle, what happened to your face?" Wendy asked, not very loudly, but it was loud enough to catch everyone else's attention.
"Nothing," Kyle said blandly, but Wendy honed in on the two new arrivals' edginess towards each other.
"Did Craig do that?" she shrieked.
"He deserved it," Craig sniped.
Wendy turned to face Mrs. Garrison. "I'll trade partners. I'm sorry, Stan, but they absolutely shouldn't be working together."
"No trading," Mrs. Garrison answered. She had already gotten well into sipping her own Bloody Mary. "Just settle your peccadillos like adults."
Stan's head felt clearer as anger overtook him. "What the hell, Craig?"
"His stupid father is bungling his job as Tweek's lawyer." Behind Craig, Clyde nodded in solidarity while Tolkien looked faintly uncomfortable with the whole thing, and tried to urge his group to worry about it later and finish the assignment. His suggestion went unheeded.
"Maybe so, but that's not Kyle's fault," Stan argued through clenched teeth.
"Yeah it is. Tweek's been panicking because Kyle's daddy keeps telling him not to mention that Kyle was at the cafe that day. Now he's afraid he'll slip up and disappoint everyone."
To his surprise, Kyle was the next to speak up. "That fucking asshole!"
A loud pop burst above them, and the lights simultaneously went out. Several students had screamed or ducked, while Cartman cheered. "All right! School's over!"
"Now hold on a second, class," Mrs. Garrison said. The sudden blackout had caused her to drop her liquor glass and it left her very irate. "Let's wait until we hear from Principal Victoria. There's broken glass on the floor so I want everyone to stay put."
Kyle had already left the room. Despite that, Craig launched on with his diatribe. "None of this would have happened if your friend had stayed in the loony bin where he belongs."
Stan charged at Craig. He slid; Mrs. Garrison wasn't the only one to have dropped glassware on the floor, but he managed to knock a punch into Craig's face. He would have done more, but Kenny and Tolkien intervened, holding them back from engaging into a full brawl.
"That's enough, you two!" Mrs. Garrison yelled. "I'm sending you to Principal Victoria's office."
"But you told us all not to move around," Wendy challenged.
"Well, I changed my mind. Don't start with me, Miss Goody Grinch!"
Kenny and Cartman followed along with Stan. The hallways were just as dark. It looked like the power outage had taken out the entire school. Cartman nudged at Kenny. "Kinneh, you gonna check up on the Jew?"
"Sure," Kenny eyed Cartman back warily. "I'm surprised you didn't volunteer so you'd get out of class sooner."
"No way. He's full of Jew rage and would kill me. That's why you've got to go."
"I'll go," Stan broke in.
"But you gotta go to the principal's office, Stan," Cartman said mockingly.
"Screw that."
"Fine. I don't really care if you die."