Hello again. Coming back to the Stan and Kyle that we all know and love. Tell us what you think!

Acting The Part

Chapter 1

Stan's POV

It sucks that summer had to end, but I was use to it by now. This year I was going to be a senior, and things were going to be different for me. I was considered pretty plain last year, but this year someone would think I was awesome before we graduated and went off to college or wherever we went after high school.

I guess I've always been the normal guy. Average looks, average size, average intelligence. Even average carpentry skills. I don't know how that last one applies to anything, but whatever.

Even after all this time, me and my friends still went to school together. In fact, Kyle was probably going to meet up with me at some point our first day back.

I look at myself in mirror and give my hair one last ruffle before heading to the school. Maybe this year, I'll do SOMETHING to turn heads.

I thought about trying out for the football team again. But, after last year's embarrassment that costs us the state title (I refuse to even explain), I'm thinking that's a no. So basically, all I've got is my C-average and my best friend.

I didn't actually know WHERE to meet up with Kyle, but no one knows where they're going the first day of school anyway. Kyle had actually gotten in great shape over the summer. Cartman pissed him off one day, so he vowed to work on his upper body strength so his punches would hurt more. Before any of us knew it, Kyle was all...buff. I didn't even need to see him to know that he'd probably put on more muscle the last couple weeks of summer.

Come to think of it...I HAVEN'T seen Kyle in a few weeks. That's really weird for us. I kinda miss the guy.

But, it won't be too hard spotting him, wherever he is. Kyle is, as the girls like to call him, an "amazing specimen of male species." Or, in better terms, a complete babe magnet. Wherever he's at, they're there. Just follow the girls...Kyle'll be at the end of the trail. I'd like to say that it gets kind of annoying, but hey, I'm always with Kyle, so they are always around me too, right?

"Stan!" I hear someone call out. I turn around, expecting to see my best friend. As it turns out, Kenny has found me first.

"Oh, hey Kenny."

"Hey, dude, what's up?" I watch him half strut, half limp over to me. Either he just got out of a fight--before the first class of the first day--or his last experiment with his go-kart didn't work out.

"Did you get your schedule of classes yet? I think we're in the same study hall!" he announces, very excited.

"Not yet," I inform him. "But that'd be cool."

He nodded in agreement.

"What's with your leg?" I ask.

"Oh. Heh. I got so wasted last night."

That's how most, if not ALL, of Kenny's stories start. "I got so smashed last night, they took a picture of me humping a telephone pole." Or, "I was so fucked up, I didn't even KNOW that was a cop car." Or, my personal favorite, "I got SO drunk last night, I woke up in my sister's clothes. And she was in mine." Heh, good 'ole Ken.

"So, saying goodbye to another summer without homework or rules?" I ask him.

"Yeah, it sucks," he agrees. "That's why we gotta become our own bosses. Then we can take time off whenever we want."

I nod. Not that I had dreams of becoming my own boss. It's just that Kenny was probably still thinking with a hungover head, and you can't really argue with people when they're messed up.

"Have you seen Kyle?" I ask.

"Yeah, think he's being swallowed up by that girl black hole over there," he informs me, pointing over to, in fact, a swarming mass of girls and a bright red poof of hair in the very center. Another benefit to finding Kyle--he's tall. Taller than most of the student body, including our tallest basketball players. Wonder why Kyle never played basketball...

"I'll see you around." I announce to Kenny.

"Of course," he agrees, totally understanding the need to go socialize with Kyle.

As I approach the crowd, I brace myself. It's gotten so bad that I feel like a weed whacker, chopping down all obstructions to get to what really matters. Maybe I'm a little jealous. Of the attention. That Kyle gets.

"Hey dude!" I yell on my toes with my arm outstretched to the ceiling so he knows its me.

"Hey!" he yells back. Some of the girls between us start to move, so I think Kyle is trying to walk around them only for the girls to try and stand in his way again.

"Well, I gotta get to class," I hear Kyle announce. A few of the girls "Aww!" in response, but reluctantly walk away all the same. Surely they have classes too.

He winks and nods at me and I follow him out of the mob and into a less inhabited hallway. When the coast is clear, he takes a deep breath.

"DUDE, this is getting fucking ridiculous!" he exclaims, but barely above a whisper. "I'm not a celebrity. I'm...just...me!"

I smile. He's Kyle Broflovski. Er...the only Jewish stud in town, according to the ladies. "Maybe you've got a diamond-encrusted wallet they want or somethin." I know that's at least partially true. His money is definitely one of his appeals to them.

"Well rich lawyer dad or not they need to let me breathe! God!"

He shakes his head, as though he were shaking off the combined scent of perfume and pheromones coating his body. "Anyway, what's up! Do we have the same classes yet?"

"We never do, smartass," I remind him as we begin our trek to the office to get our schedules. Kyle's too smart for me.

Out the corner of my eye, I spy him making a face and sifting through his folders and pulling out his schedule. "Actually, I think we might be in the same English class AND biology class, Stan!" he cries, shoving me a little. I can tell he hates it when I constantly remind him of how smart he is. But its just another one of his charming qualities, I guess.

On our way to the office we make the usual small talk. It sucks that summer is over, Kenny has another drunken story to share later on, blah blah blah. It's all routine so far, but we're just warming up. Once I have my schedule in my hand, I discover that Kyle was right. He usually is, but it's super cool that he was right THIS time, because it means that we DO have a couple of classes together! Sweet!

"Well," Kyle concludes, looking down at his watch. "Guess I'll see you third period then, huh?"

"You got it," I respond, grinning. We part ways, and before I even step foot in the classroom of my 1st period, the bell goes off. Damn it. Late again.

How does that always happen?

Kyle's POV:

Why does God hate me? I finally have a class with Stan, and Eric Cartman has to be in the same room! Cartman probably knows this is one of my only classes with Stan, so he'll do everything he can to wreck it. I'm so glad I added muscle this summer. I'm always hitting Cartman, but now it hurts a lot more. I just hope fat ass isn't in biology, too.

"Heeellooo Kaaahl," I hear the most ANNOYING voice sing to me as he wiggles into the seat to my right side. Stan hasn't shown up yet, but if he doesn't get here soon, I may be practicing my shot put skills with Cartman's fat face.

"What do YOU want, fatass," I grumble, my eyes glued to the door for my best friend's arrival.

"Just saying hello to my favorite Jew," he responds in a sickeningly sweet tone of voice. "So, it looks like we have English class together."

"You can't copy off of me," I reply. I hope this news will make him stop kissing my ass and go away. No such luck.

"Oh Kahl, you're so funny."

"OMG, KYYYLE!" I hear yet another nauseating voice squeal. I overt my eyes to the new aggravation, and it's Red and her friend whatshername. I don't even know half the chicks that screech out my name anymore. I've stopped trying.

Please, God. Just let me get through this class without lard butt and whiny girls pissing me off too much. Where is Stan? He'll take off some of the edge. I turn to face Cartman again, who insists on scooting his desk uncomfortably close to me and leaning over the aisle. He's staring at me in a dreamy manner again just to get under my skin. Fuck, its working.

"Sup Red?" Cartman asks the girl, totally ignoring my presence for the time being. Hm, is THAT fat boy's angle? Get close to me in order to get closer to the girls in the room? If so, I could have some fun with this. Then again, maybe he's just trying to piss me off? Move in on "my" action? As if I care about Red or her stupid friend. Where the HELL is Stan?

As if on cue, my disorganized mess of a friend comes stumbling in, yelling, "I'm not late! I'm not late!" Haha, Stan is ridiculously hyper in the morning, and it doesn't settle until a few hours into the evening. He's a wind up doll.

I raise my eyebrows and stare directly at him as he makes his way past the rows of seating before he plops down in the seat next to me. Red glares at him--I think she wanted to sit there herself. Haha, oh well.

Red doesn't even respond to Cartman's greeting. She's too busy burning a hole in Stan for taking "her" seat. Sucks for fat ass. Hopefully he'll leave me alone now. Or find some other girl further away to bother, or whatever his goal is.

"I hate you so much, Stan," Cartman mutters under his breath as Red pouts and then finally leaves the scene. With her goes Cartman. He tries to be inconspicuous, but that's kind of impossible when you outweigh an elephant.

"Kyle, seriously, I think they are shortening the passing periods," Stan frantically tells me. He's such a spaz, it's amusing.

"Calm down, dude, its only the first day!" I know Stan. He gets like this from time to time. Actually more so than not. But its part of him, and I've learned to counterbalance it.

"You'll learn your way around." I assure him. "Everyone fucks up the first day. It's fine."

"Yeah," Stan smiles, apparently feeling better about it.

"Yeah," I reply.

"So how were your first classes?" he asks me, finally getting situated in his desk. I'm definitely going to like having him in two of them.

"Meh, can't complain," I say, shrugging my shoulders.

"Same here," he answers.

Suddenly, the teacher calls for the attention of the class. Shit! That means that Stan and I could now only communicate through whispers and note passing for the next half hour or so. Oh well. We've done it before successfully. Stan's first note concurs with me in hoping that fat ass won't be joining us in biology later. My note says that I think biology will be the tougher course.

Okay, so we might be lame. And our unnecessary written conversation could be avoided in favor of listening to the class syllabus. But, think about that. Okay, I might be intelligent, but I am NOT a geek! School just comes naturally to me.

Stan's next note says "If so, you can help tutor me" with a smiley face.

"And by tutor, you mean give you all the answers?" I reply. I illustrate it with a frowny face and a large "NO" to emphasize my disagreement with the idea.

I chuck the note into Stan's open hands, and study his face as he opens it up and reads it. His brow furrows in disappointment as a response, and he looks to me with a sloppy lopsided grin. I watch him even more intently as he scribbles down something below my comment, as we both momentarily forget that school should be our first priority.

"Mister Marsh," the pompous Colonel Sanders-ish guy with gray hair instead of white says. I've heard about this guy. He's the infamous 12th grade Literature and Advanced English Nazi.

I bet him and Cartman will get along.

"Yes sir?" Stan answers politely.

"Are you passing notes in my class?"

"No sir, I'm taking notes," he says calmly.

"Then you won't mind if I...take...your notes, huh?" he intelligently twists the words around. I smile, but force it inwardly. If Stan gets in trouble, I go down with him. That's how it's always been.

"I'm...I-I'd really rather have my notes to myself, sir," Stan pleads. "F-for educational purposes." I can see he's struggling. I wish there was something I could do for him.

"You'll get them back just as soon as I check their authenticity," the teacher says. He has a southern drawl. I bet he says 'authoritah' just like Cartman.

Speak of the devil, a pudgy hand raises high in the air as an equally pudgy voice accompanies it.

"Mr. Leeeewis?" Cartman sings, once again, in his damn manipulative voice. The fat, old man turns. "Um, Stan and Kyle's note passing is having a severe effect on my levels of concentraaaation. Can you separate their seats to avoid further class disruption?"

That son of a bitch.

"That's a good idea," the old man said. "You stay put Mister Broflovski. Mister Marsh, go sit next to that boy." He points over to Cartman, who smiles in response. "You've only been in my class a day mister Marsh, and already you come off as a liar and a note-passer. I hope that nice boy over there keeps you in line."

Damn Cartman. He's got something MORE up his sleeve.

"Um...Mr. Lewis," he starts in again. "While I appreciate your thoughtfulness for others and correcting Stanley's behavior, I simply feel as though my learning will be tampered with. You keep Stan where he's at to serve as punishment."

Mr. Lewis ponders this thought for a second before he responds. "Of course! Mr. Broflovski, you assume the seat next to..." he looks down at his notepad, "...Mr. Cartman."

I grit my teeth and narrow my eyes as I pick up my things and move the other side of the room. Defeated by Cartman.

Oh, he will pay.

Now I was really staring at the clock. Cartman would probably berate me for the whole period, every day. It was either fuck around with him, or listen to a boring first-day lecture from some hick. Maybe after a few months of being teacher's pet I could worm my way back over to the seat with Stan. Or, maybe my answer would come later, in biology.

"So, Kyle, looks like you and I are stuck together for the rest of the semester," he whispered as he puffed out his fat cheeks into a somewhat smile. He closed his eyes. "Get comfortable, Jewboy."

I grunted and shifted positions in my seat so that I could still see Stan. Even though we couldn't pass notes, we were dead on at understanding one another's mouthed words. I mouthed "God, help me," and he gave me a sympathetic smile. And that's how it was, until the much-glorified bell rang.

---

"Get away from me, Cartman," I grumble, making my way up in the lunch line. Apparently, today is annoy-the-hell-out-of-Kyle day, and everyone is participating! Not only do I NOT have lunch with Stan, but instead they dropped me into a lunch full of admiring girls and...Cartman.

I push my way forward, and naturally, some girls see me and part like the Red Sea. I guess there are benefits to being well liked.

"Isn't this great, Kyle? You and me havin' lunch together."

"What the hell do you want!" I snap. "What's your game, fat boy?"

He takes the chance to swipe at my pudding cup, but I'm sure he's after a lot more. He follows me to my seat despite my objection. Of course.

As we sit down, I feel the vibration of his butt cheeks hitting the metal on MY butt cheeks, even though we're sitting across from one another. Is it just me, or did he get fatter over the summer?

He frowns at me for the first time this whole day, and THAT is disturbing. Usually it takes him one second. Acknowledging my appearance. "Kyle, I'm gonna level with you," he tells me. I find that hard to believe. He continues.

"Its been, what...ten, fifteen years that we've been bitter enemies?" I raise my eyebrows. "I think it's time...we...well, we bury the hatchet." There it is. His cheesy smile again.

"...And by that, you mean what?" I ask.

"Just what I said Kyle. Look, this might be our last year together. I don't wanna spend it fighting. You and Stan and Kenny...You guys are like, the longest friends I've ever kept."

"There's a reason for that," I point out.

Cartman grimaces, and then he continues. "Kyle, I would appreciate it you would hold your wiseass comments until the end."

"Why do I need to do that, DUMBass?" I tell him more than ask, already frustrated at his insincere attempt. Its true. We have been--and I'm reluctant to say this--...friends...for that long. And I know every single one of the tricks in his book. He is NOT going to fool me this year. I am smarter and BETTER than that.

"Kyle, I'm seriously." he insists. Hm. He either is trying hard to sound sincere now, or he IS being sincere, which would just be creepy.

Cartman continues. "I wanna have a good last year. A good last memory of you, my friend, before we go and do whatever after high school. I know I'll never be your best friend like Stan, but I just thought this was a good start. This, and getting us together in English. I mean, at some point, we'd have to talk and become cool with each other."

I almost spit out my juice. "You think that pulling us together like that was a GOOD thing? Cartman! Jesus..." I begin to go off on a rant, but then it occurs to me. Cartman doesn't know how to be nice. Matter of fact, what he did back there, probably WAS him being nice. Even if he was being a jackoff about it. I sigh. Maybe I'm a pushover, but I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. "Okay, Cartman,"

"Eric."

This time I DO spit out my juice. "What!"

"I want you to call me Eric," he repeats. "I don't go around calling you Broflovski, do I?"

"...O- ...Okay?" I agree, more as a question than a statement this time. "But, Eric, you still split up me and Stan. That's not cool dude."

"Eh, you two homos need some time away from each other."

"What was that?" I ask him to clarify, though I heard him loud and clear. My ears start to burn and I grit my teeth.

"Sorry, sorry," he apologizes quickly. "Force of habit. Won't happen again."

"Yes it will! You think we're gonna talk in English and pass notes and shit just because we're seated together! Tomorrow you'll rip on me even harder just because I'm stuck there!"

"Calm down, Jewboy, I'm try-"

"And you think that calling me Jewboy is better than calling me by my last name? Don't belittle my PEOPLE, FATASS!"

"Kyle," Cartman pleads. "Kyle, stop. I'm not trying to be your enemy nyaw."

"Oh whatever, Cartman. Fuck you!" I yell, standing up and storming off with my food tray. I need to find a table where I can be alone.

"Stay back, bitches!" a loud female voice threatens from the side of me. I turn my head instinctively to see what the hell is going on. It's Kenny's little sister, Katie. She's threatening my other female admirers with a broken bottle for some reason. Suddenly, she puts on a big smile and walks toward my new table. Why would she...? ...Oh no. God, no!

"Why hello there, Kyle," she coos, taking a seat next to me, completely uninvited. "Guess who's in high school now?"

Shit. Guess she wasn't that much younger than us. Still...she wears entirely too much makeup for a 14 year old. And she has entirely too many holes in that short skirt of hers. And entirely too tall of heels OUCH. She just jabbed me in the arm with part of that bottle! Bitch!

"I'll give you one guess, Kyle-boy." Ugh.

"You?" I ask, playing along.

"Yep! I'm a freshmen now."

"Great Katie. Well, it was nice talking to you. Why don't you go find your brother or something?"

Okay, so I'm not exactly subtle about wanting to be left alone. I don't care!

She takes this as an excuse to cuddle up next to me.

"I'd much rather stay with you, Kyle." Those eyelashes have entirely too much mascara on them. And that hairstyle has to go...

Did I just say that? I mean, SHE has to go. Her hair is part of her body. Guh, my brain is suffering majorly with this lack of silence and oxygen.

"Katie, I'm having a really bad day," I admit to her. "I'd really rather be alone right now."

"Aww!" she pouts. Is she wearing lipstick too? Jeez, what a little tramp.

"I can make your day better," she announces with a wink.

"...Excuse me?"

She wraps her arm around my back, and from behind me, I hear a bunch of girls sighing in defeat. "You heard what I said. I'm not just Kenny's little sister anymore."

"Actually," I disagree, "that's EXACTLY what you are."

She pouts and pulls herself closer into me. Oh God, I'd love to tell you this is a one-time thing. But its not. Its not even a yearly occurrence. Or weekly. No, this is a multi-day happening for me. Did I ask to be born with...attractive features? I'm not saying that to be egotistical. But I'm starting to wonder why the hell I'm so wonderful.

And I'm getting pretty damn sick of everyone thinking I am.

"Kyle, Kenny never has to know if that's what you're worried about." she assures me. "I've messed around before and he never knew."

I raise an eyebrow. I didn't want to know that, least of all about my buddy's kid sister. Ew!

"Katie!" I yell, prying my arms and body out of her reach. Once again, I'm standing. Can I guy have no PRIVACY to eat his goddamned school lunch? "I'm...I'm not what you want! I'm NOT INTERESTED," I reword, as her advancements become apparent.

Okay, fuck the food. Sanity is more important. I'll high tail it out of there and conceal myself in the bathroom until the bell rings and I can get on with my day.

I hear a retching sound coming from one of the stalls. Oh, great. Just what I need today. After a flush, Kenny emerges from the stall. It's only the second time I've seen him today. Now that I'm really paying attention, he DOES look pretty shitty. Hopefully he just puked out the last of his bad feelings and would leave me alone.

Surprisingly, I find myself talking to him first. "Ken, what the hell's wrong with your sister?"

Kenny swallows and wobbles a little, looking at me through half-closed eyes. "Dude, don't even..." he begins, but immediately halts conversation as he runs back into the stall, creating more music to my ears. When did he become such a lush? Guess I don't pay attention to many of my friends...only Stan.

Kenny comes back out of the stall. He begins brushing his teeth. I guess I can put up with this. In another minute he'll be gone, and then I can have the peace and quiet I seek.

"What do you mean what's wrong with her?" he asks me. "What ISN'T wrong with my family?"

"Good point," I agree. I walk over to him, studying him in the mirror. Poor Kenny. He'd be so much better looking if he didn't look hungover all the time. And didn't smell like piss and vomit. Sadly, he's truly taken to his dad's roots. I wish I could say different--I saw a lot of potential in him before we started high school.

He pulls out a comb and starts grooming himself. "Katie's just all excited to be in high school, where she can get a hot piece of ass."

"What!"

"She's a true McCormick. She'll probly have a kid before she graduates."

It was amazing how nonchalant Kenny is about his sister's future. Has he really accepted this life for himself and his family so easily? It's sad.

"Well, that may be, but I think she wants MY ass, dude."

Kenny pauses his clean up process to lean backwards and sneak a peek at the goods. I stare at him blankly, and then I narrow my eyes a little. "Kenny!"

"What?" he asks, defensively. "I've gotta check out my sister's prey. See if he's...good enough." He pulls out a little container of floss and starts flossing away. I think he has better hygiene habits here at school than he does at home.

His comment strikes me. "Oh. And?" I don't know why I just asked that. Like I want to know what Kenny thinks of my ass. I shake my head.

"I don't WANT her making me prey though. I want her to go away and hit on a freshman," I quickly add.

"What the fuck am I s'pposed to do about it?" Kenny asks. I honestly don't know the answer to that, but surely he could do SOMETHING more than check me out to see if I'm worthy of his underage sibling.

"I told her I wasn't interested."

"That makes you prime bait to the McCormicks, Kyle," Kenny informs me.

"Should I tell her I don't date freshmen?"

"You're playing hard to get."

"Well Jesus Christ, Kenny! Tell me do SOMETHING!" I say, losing my breath AND patience.

Kenny shrugs. "Tell her you're gay."

I do a double take. Did I hear that right? "What?" I ask.

"Tell her you're gay," he repeats. "McCormick's will fuck a lot of things, but we don't try to change someone who plays for the other team. No point in it, you know?"

"You really think she's gonna buy that though?"

Wow. Am I actually considering this?

"Why not? You work out all the time, you hang out with me and Stan a lot...And even Cartman...And, frankly, you're a pretty hot looking guy."

"So that makes me gay?"

Kenny shakes his head and laughs. "No, but it makes you believable."

I, too, shake my head. "Kenny, I'm just so sick of girls CONSTANTLY swarming around me. It's like...I don't even get a moment of time to myself, or even with my friends, because they're always just...there. Staring at me. Asking me out."

Kenny feigned disgust. "Yeah, I can see how that'd be a total drag."

"I'm just not sure what to do anymore."

Kenny shrugs. "Well you know my answer. It's all I've got for ya, buddy."

I sigh. "I'll think of something I guess. Thanks."

"Sure. I'll see ya," he says as he heads out the bathroom door. Ah, finally. Peace and quiet all for me.

Until the bell rings, which it just did. Of course. Fucking perfect.

Stan's POV

I feel relief when I see Kyle's curly red 'fro enter the room. I feel like I haven't seen him in a decade. I have so much to catch up with him on. Well...not really. Shit happened in class today. The usual. I was late to Mrs. Determan's room. Got a detention. Kyle'll scold me for that, I'm sure.

I take a seat in the back, and make sure to save him one next to me. The teacher won't see us messing around back there. No more screwups like in English. Best of all, it looks like Cartman doesn't have this class with us, so everything should go smoothly.

God I hate that underhanded, conniving Cartman. He fucking did that whole thing on purpose. I don't know what his plans are for Kyle this year, but if I have anything to say about it, Cartman will be begging for mercy when I get done with him. "Hey dude!" I greet Kyle with a warm smile. He returns one of greater strength.

Is it hot in here or is it just me?

"Hi," he greets me as he sits down. He prepares his notebook once again, either to take notes or write me some.

I can tell right away from the tone in his voice that he's having a bad day. "Aw, Ky, what's wrong?" I ask him, placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. He shudders and slowly shakes his head.

"Don't even ask, Stan. Don't even ask."

Well, of course I'm going to ask now. Shit, he ALWAYS tells me everything. "Cartman got to you?" I venture, knowing I've hit it square on the nose.

"Yes! He says he wants to be 'friends' now, which his total bullshit. On top of THAT, I've got Kenny's sister trying to jump me, girls not leavin' me alone, and hardly any time with you at school! I've got homework the first day, had no time to myself, and I think I got a paper cut!"

"Cartman wants to be friends!" I ask for clarification, deciding to tackle one issue at a time.

Kyle turns and looks me in the eye. "He wants me to call him Eric."

"..."

"Yeah."

"Maybe he's just hot for you like the girls," I joke. To my joy, the remark manages to draw a laugh from way deep down inside of Kyle. The very IDEA of a gay Eric Cartman...

Suddenly, Kyle's laughter stops, and he focuses on some significant spot up in the front of the room. I look up there, but I don't know what the fuck he's staring at. "Stan," he says without snapping out of his trance. "Could I pass as gay?"

Now it's my turn to laugh. "What?"

"You heard me. Do I look like, ya know, one of them?"

"One of them? Dude, Kyle, they aren't aliens. Anyone could be one of 'them.'"

"Could I be?" he asks, not even listening to what I just said.

"I don't know, dude..."

"Would you still be my friend if I were?" he continues, unrelenting.

I raise an eyebrow. Is he confessing something to me here? And if so, why now? Is he looking to cap off a crappy day with the loss of a best friend? Not that I'd stop being his friend over something like that. Maybe he's just going insane?

"Yeah," I assure him.

"Are you sure, Stan? If I just up and decided to go gay today, you wouldn't mind?"

I fight back the second wave of laughter. Go gay? What is he on? "Sure, dude. I'll always be there for you. You can count on me."

Kyle searches my eyes for truth. When he finds it, he takes a long sigh and then goes right back to staring at that spot up front. "Just checkin'."

Hearing only silence from him, I press on.

"...And?"

"And what?"

"Well, ARE you gay?" I ask. "You don't just say something like that and then stop!"

Kyle looks taken aback by my question. "No dude, of course not," he answers frankly.

What just happened here? Confused, I decide its best not to pry into the mind of my brilliant best friend quite yet. He'll open up when its time. For now, we've got Biology.

Kyle turns to me and smiles again. But there is something more in his smile. He is...he's...he looks like he's sizing me up! What the fuck?

"Kyle!" I say, alerting the studying boy.

He says nothing.

"Kyle..." I repeat, this time waving my hand in front of my face.

"What?" he asks me innocently, as if he hadn't been staring...dreamily...at me for the past minute.

"Cut it out," I tell him. He never does this. Maybe the girls' behavior is rubbing off on him.

"Sorry," he apologizes. "I guess...I can't help myself." He makes sure to look over to some girls after he says this. I'm not sure why.

I shake off his weird behavior as the bell rings, and we're talked into our first assignment. Two more periods and we're free for the day. Then maybe Kyle can get some rest or some oxygen or whatever it is he needs.

We continue to pass notes throughout the period again, this time with detailed drawings of how boring our classes are. This is my favorite class. It's just Kyle and me.

The way it should be.