If you're wondering, no, I do not write all my fanfiction in first-person. It's just that I write all my South Park oneshot fanfictions (but this one) under one Notepad document thing, so I'm too lazy to sort everything out.

"Wendy! Wendy?"

I heard my best friend calling me. I ran up to her, grinning. Today, Friday, was the day we watched movies at my house. Every Friday night we would act like girls, not acting psychotic, not acting political, or anything.

"Wendy," she said, and instantly my face fell. The look on her face...No, it couldn't be good. "Wendy, I'm afraid I have to postpone our movie night thing."

See? Told you.

"Oh," I said quietly.

"Kyle asked me out on a date a few minutes ago, and I was so excited, I forgot all about it," explained Bebe.

I shrugged. "We all forget sometimes...Sunday, can we?"

Bebe pondered the thought. "I'm going to have to check my schedule."

I wanted to say, "Why? Have another shopping spree to go on?" But I didn't.

Instead, I said, "Okay."

"Thanks for understanding," Bebe said, smiling warmly. Then she ran towards the school, where Kyle was probably waiting for her.

"Gah!" I wanted to slap myself. I felt so guilty. That smile got me every time. I stomped off, wondering what I was going to do that Friday.

And, wow, how deep in thought was I? Very deep, I assume, because I bumped into Stan. We hadn't talked to each other, probably for months. I'll use the fact that we're not together anymore as an excuse.

"Sorry, Stan," I apologized quickly, than passed him to who-knows-where.

"It's cold," I said to myself, looking up at the sky. "But...I'm not going to go home yet," I whispered.

So...Where are you heading, self?

Screw you, self. I'm going to walk.

So I started walking around the park area, because when I felt that the walk was over, I would sit down on a bench right outside the park. How convenient, right?

No, not really. Because Red, Heidi, Lizzy, Kelly, and Jessie hung around there. Is that a weird group or what? And I thought I was on speaking terms with them all.

Well, I was wrong. Especially with Red.

I quietly passed them. It seemed that they were conversing, so I decided not to say 'hello' or anything.

"Wait," someone with a strong Southern accent said. "Wendy."

"Um, yeah?" I said, turning around on my heels.

Red approached me. Do you approach someone with clenched fists and a scowl and mean well? Didn't think so, either.

She poked me with her index finger. "You had your chance."

I stared confusingly at her. "What?"

"You had your chance with Stan," she said.

Oh my God. Can I get through one day without someone pestering me about my relationship with Stan? It's OVER. Capital O. Capital V. Capital E. Capital FUCKING R! Need I write it on my forehead?!

"Yeah, so?" I said.

"SO?!" Red exclaimed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It is SO obvious that you SO want him back!"

Yep. I do need to write it on my forehead.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Red," I said. "But it's over between Stan and me."

"Not what MY sources tell me," Red replied.

"Well, your sources are wrong! Very wrong!" I said, starting to get angry. "Why can't people stop bitching about Stan and I?! Is there a new law that says people have to remind others about their exes every single day?!"

"I am not bitching!" Red said.

"Yeah, she's not bitching," chimed in Heidi, Lizzy, and the others.

"Shut up," I told the echoes, and they scowled at me. "And, yes you are, Red," I told Red.

Red grit her teeth. "Don't call me Red! No man-stealers can call me that!"

"Whatever- Wait, Red- Rebecca. You're with Stan?!" I said. Wow, I'm stupid.

"Yes," she replied.

"Since when?!"

"Since...a month after you broke up."

"And you did not notice at all that I did not speak to Stan for the past couple of months?" I scoffed, placing my hands on my hips.

"That only made it more suspicious," piped Kelly.

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?" I said exasperatedly, looking over Red's (or Rebecca, whatever) shoulder to glare at the blonde girl. Then I looked back at Red/Rebecca/The Wicked Bitch of the South- Oh, wait, that's me. Whoops.

"Don't talk to my friends like that!" she said. "You're talking to me!"

"Yeah, but they're talking to me!" I replied. Then I crossed my arms. "I should've seen this coming."

"What? How?" she said curiously.

"I mean, when you looked up to Paris Hilton, and then went to Bebe's party, and you had Stan pinned down..." My voice trailed off, and I thought back to the time when (with Mr. Slave) I barged into that party. "Ewwwwww," I said, more immaturely than planned.

In reply, that jerk smiled. "Oh, yeah," she said, remembering the moment.

"But he was so relieved when we interrupted, wasn't he?" I said.

"He didn't know anything back then."

"Yep-" I said sarcastically.

"And that's why you were together."

"WHAT?" I screamed.

"See?!" Red yelled instantly, pointing at me. "You do care!"

"Yes, I do! Not about Stan, but because you insulted me! Do not insult me or my past relationships!"

She pushed me to the ground- hard. I must've slid back a few inches, because when I looked at my hands, they hurt and burned and bled a bit. "Damn!" I exclaimed.

"Red?!" a voice said. Footsteps were heard running towards us.

"Stan!" Red said.

"What happened?!" Stan said.

Poor, sensitive Stan, I thought. You don't want to know. But it involves you, darling.

Okay, that last word was pure sarcasm.

"Wendy fell," Red lied. "And we heard, so we came over." She stuck out a hand.

"No thanks," I said quietly, getting up myself. Wendy Testaburger is an independent girl. As I got up, I tried to cover that I was in pain. But it obviously didn't work, because-

"Wendy, are you okay? You look like you're in pain," Stan said.

Damn, I thought.

"No, I'm not okay," I whispered.

"What?" Stan said.

"Yes, I'm fine. I have to go," I said quickly. "Bye, Stan. Rebecca. Ke-"

"Rebecca? Doesn't everyone call her Red?" Stan said.

Stan, why do you have to notice everything?! Okay, I may have exaggerated 'Rebecca' a bit, but still!

"I think she's mad at me," Red said, trying to display her false innocence.

"No, I'm not." Gosh, when did Red and I become enemies? Possibly ever since Stan and I were on a mission to acquire the real list of the boys ranked from cutest to ugliest?

"Okay, then," Stan said. He didn't believe it, it was obvious.

I turned around and walked to the bench, which was on the opposite side of the park.

But, then, I turned around, walked to Red, slapped her across the face, and continued walking towards the bench, leaving them all (especially Stan) shocked.

There's Red's lesson: Don't fuck with me.

When I reached the bench, I sat down and rested my head on the palms of my hands, and blankly stared at the sidewalk in front of me.

"Today was so messed up," I told myself.

I felt a weight on the bench, and then turned to the other side of the bench. I stared at the boy, silent.

"Hey, Wendy."

"What do you want?" I said rudely.

"I just wanted to talk."

"What, you're little bitchy girlfriend not here to fight with me about you?"

By now you can guess who was sitting beside me.

"..Don't call her bitchy."

"Hm, did you say that when Kenny said that about me?" I said.

"What?" Stan said.

"You heard me. When Kyle, Kenny, Cartman, and Bebe were at your house, then Bebe couldn't even finish her sentence, because Kenny interrupted, saying I was bitchy?"

"Why would Bebe-"

"Kyle brought her."

"..Oh..."

I nodded, and then looked back down at the sidewalk, my back hunched because my elbows were rested on my thighs, and my cheeks resting on the palms of my hands. I glanced at a car passing by.

"Well, I apologize for Red's behavior," Stan said sincerely.

"Not accepted."

"What?"

"It's not from Red herself, and I know she wouldn't apologize to a man-stealer like me. And after I called her bitchy, I'm pretty sure she wouldn't. But she'll be glad that you defended her when you didn't for me," I told him. "But tell her..." I gulped. "That I'm sorry."

"For what?" Stan said.

"Record this if you will," I said sarcastically.

Stan looked at me, confused.

Not the jokester, I assumed. I took a deep breath.

"Tell her I'm sorry for making her think I wanted you back. Tell her I'm sorry for my attitude, for acting a bit immature. Tell her I'm sorry for any wrong I've done to her. Tell her I hope she forgives me."

"Wow."

"Yeah, well, I don't like holding grudges."

"No, you don't. You like blasting people off into the sun."

"Don't push it, Stan!" I said, scowling.

"Sorry," he apologized. "But, aren't you going to apologize for slapping her?"

"No!" I yelled.

"Sorry," he repeated.

"It's all right," I sighed. "I'm just mad."

"At whom?" he asked.

"I don't know. I guess I'm just...mad," I said, and shrugged.

"Hey, I have a question," Stan said.

"Shoot," I replied.

"Are you jealous of anyone?" he asked.

"Um...," I mumbled, thinking of an answer. An honest answer. "Yeah."

"Who?"

"Bebe," I answered.

"Bebe?"

"Yeah," I replied. "She can fit in when she wants to, and...And she can keep a relationship going. For a long, long time." I sighed sadly. Frankly, it was true. I can't fit in. I'm just that political girl, who wasn't born a stupid, spoiled whore, whose intelligence and logic people ignore most of the time.

"You know," he said, and the way he said that made me look at him again. He smiled and looked up at the stars. "Someone once said, 'Their love is written in the stars, but the world conspires to keep them apart.' Or something like that. There's some other stuff, but I forgot it."

I thought about those words. Was he possibly- Us? No...Impossible. "Wow, that's beautiful, who said that?"

"I don't know, but whoever he is, he's a genius."

"Or she, Stan! Geez, you sexist bastard."

We looked at each other, smiling.

"Oh, yeah," he said, laughing softly.

My name is Wendy Testaburger. And I learned something today. I'm a flawed girl.

But I like to flaunt what I have.