Girls and Boys In School

Chapter Three: The Next Best Thing

A/N: From here on out, I'm going to be switching POV's. The majority of the story will still be told from Kyle's POV, but certain chapters will switch to different characters' to better explain/fulfill plotlines. Godspeed, govnah.

Cartman's POV

I fucking hated English class. Reading shit books, supposed "classics" that I didn't want to read, writing essays that I didn't want to write, and analyzing, just fucking analyzing the SHIT out of goddamn everything.

And then halfway through the year, they dump the poetry unit on us. Jesus tap dancing Christ, there was nothing on this planet I hated more than poetry. Some pansy compares rose pedals to sex while some hermit bitch writes about how depressed she is by describing the ocean.

Total bullshit.

The only thing that made this class even SLIGHTLY worthwhile was that she was in it.

She being Wendy Testaburger, the only person I ever had any semblance of a romantic feeling for. She was the only person aside from my mom that I actually gave two shits about. From pre-school until fourth grade, I hated her with every goddamn fiber of my being. We disagreed on everything (we still do), we fought constantly (we still do) and she was always finding new ways to send me to detention (still a favorite activity of hers).

Then there was the brief instance in 3rd grade when she kissed me at a rally to change the town's flag. At 9 years old, that meant nothing to me, and she went running right back to Stan. I spent hours at home that night trying to rid myself of the potential cooties she might have given me.

A year later, she beat the absolute shit out of me at recess. That was the moment I realized I liked her.

It wasn't until 8th grade, when we had to debate each other on American politics in history class that I realized I was in love with her.

But she was with Stan. She would always be with Stan. They were meant for each other. It didn't matter how many times I tried to convince myself that Stan would one day run off with Kyle and embark in The World's Most Epic Gay Romance (the title of the book I planned to publish based around Stan and Kyle's inevitable sexual tension).

It was Stan and Wendy, Wendy and Stan. That's the way it always was, and that's the way it would always be, right down to the day when I would have to sit an uncomfortably hard seat and watch them exchange the vows that would sacredly and legally bind them together.

Love fucking sucked.

So I sat in class, my eyes just barely gazing over the words as our teacher read us important passages from "The Scarlett Letter". My eyes were trying to decide between trying to read along, or continuing to stare down the back of Wendy's head, waiting for the moment (which I knew wouldn't happen) when she would look back at me and smile.

Apparently it had been a while since I had actually listened to a word Ms. Sager said, because the book was suddenly closed and she was now addressing the class.

"And so…" Ms. Sager paused, jogging over to her desk and snatching up a stack of papers. "In groups of two, which I will assign," she waited for the chorus of sighs, "You are to create a project of your choice that compares the treatment of women portrayed in The Scarlett Letter, versus the treatment of women today. I don't care if you say it's more of a positive or negative treatment, that's for you and your partner to decide. And so, without further ado, your partners."

She began reading through the class list, marking off names and creating groups as she read down the list.

Fucking partner work. If my past experience being assigned partners was any indication, I was either going to be assigned Butters (which happened 9/10 times) or Kyle (thankfully smart ass was in AP English and wasn't reigning over this class like the fucking king of the academic world).

"Eric, and…," I waited for Butters' name to follow. "Wendy."

I froze. Wendy turned to face me, her lips pursed slightly in a frown and her eyes in just the slightest bit of a glare.

I smirked back, leaning in towards her and tugging on a lock of her hair. "Ohhhhh, this will be FUN, Testaburger."

She whipped her head back around, shooting me a piercing glare. "Bite me!"

It was difficult to contain the number of inappropriate images that came into my head in light of that statement, but I held them in.

"What? You're not excited? But we had so much fun in 3rd grade Testaburger, remember?"

"The only "fun" part about that was the part when it ended and I never had to collaborate on anything with you ever again."

"What about the part where you kissed me in front of your boyfriend?"

She lightly slapped my cheek, fury rising within her. "Shut up! That was eight years ago, I was nine years old and I didn't know any better. I hadn't even gone through puberty yet, it meant nothing."

I grinned deviously, clicking my tongue. "Is that defensiveness I hear?"

She rolled her eyes, sneering. "Oh don't even go down that road, Cartman."

"You mean the road you first turned onto?"

She sighed deeply, clutching the sides of her chair. She closed her eyes, sucking in a deep breath. "Eric," she said softly. "We have a month to complete this assignment. If we want to get any form of work done at all, we're going to have to learn to not criticize everything that comes out of each other's mouths. I know you hate me just as much as I hate you-,"

"Hate is a strong word…" I thought to myself.

"But we need to learn how to not be ass holes to each other for a month. ONE MONTH. That's all I'm asking. Deal?"

She reached out her hand to me, signaling for me to shake it. I stared at it. Was she actually giving me permission to touch her, something I had only ever dreamt about doing?

I shook myself out of my trance and grasped her hand, shaking it in a civil manner. It took every fiber of my being for me to let go.

I smirked. "You got yourself a deal, Testy. But don't think I won't be back to making your life a living Hell once this project is over."

She rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't expect anything less of you, Cartman."

The bell rang and the class began to quickly pack up their things. Wendy stood up, gathering her notebook and binder and stuffing them into her backpack.

"Tomorrow after school. Let's get a head start on the assignment. OK?"

I sighed. "After school? Ug come on, that's when I jack off." I joked.

She didn't look amused.

"You'll have plenty of time to jack off afterwards, perv. I'll see you tomorrow."

And with that, she sauntered out of the classroom, my eyes following her ass.

I'd be damned if I didn't get to have sex with that girl before I graduated high school.

"Ky!" I heard a voice call out from behind me as I made my way towards my locker.

It was Stan, looking antsy and just the slightest bit irritated.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Well… two things kind of. But I'll start with what I hope is the slightly less-complicated one. Are you really going out with Bebe Stevens on Friday?"

I sighed, removing my last book from my locker and slamming the door shut.

"Yeah, I am."

"Um, OK, why? Last time I checked she annoyed the shit out of you and you had zero interest in her."

I shrugged. "I don't know, dude! She's hot, and I'll probably get laid. It's not like I actually wanna date her or anything."

He paused, staring me down. "Is that what this is about? Getting laid? Is this because of the conversation we had yesterday, because if I remember correctly you weren't the only one confessing to the fact that you're virginity is still intact."

"This has nothing to do with what we talked about yesterday, and once again, why do you care?"

"Because, do you really wanna lose your virginity to Bebe, the fucking school slut?"

I scoffed. "Is it really a big fucking deal if I do?"

"Yeah, it is!"

"Why?!"

"Because you could wait, and lose it to someone who loves you like-,"

He stopped, and looked down. He ran his hand over his mouth and sighed.

I raised an eyebrow, turning to face him. "Someone like who?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, someone special that you actually care about. Someone that you have feelings for that won't just be a cheap date who could potentially give you syphilis," I glanced away, crossing my arms and trying not to give into the sentimentality he was about to dump on me. "Kyle…I care about you. You're my best fucking friend, and I don't want to see you get…tossed around and mangled up like a piece of meat by the toxic she-devil known as Bebe. Don't just have sex to have sex. Wait. That special someone will come around, and probably sooner than you think."

I shook me head. "You don't get, do you? Do you know how little I get asked out? Girls don't even ask me to hang out with them as friends nonetheless go on dates with them. Dude, you have a girlfriend and you still have nearly half the girls in school trying to suck your dick! Maybe once, just once, I wanna do something for me and take advantage of the fact that a girl is actually expressing interest in me."

Actually that wasn't the reason at all. Not even in the slightest bit. I was so infatuated with Stan that it didn't matter how many girls did or didn't want me, I didn't want them back anyways.

He frowned, narrowing his eyes. "She's not expressing interest in you Kyle, she's expressing interest in your penis! She just wants to fuck and be done with you, like she does with every guy! She wants to use you, Kyle."

I sighed. I didn't want to fight with Stan. I didn't, I fucking hated it. But I saw the looks he gave me while he kissed his girlfriend, and this little disagreement was actually confirming the jealousy towards the fact that I was going on a date with someone other than him.

But that was just it. We never went on dates. We hung out as friends. He was allowed to have Wendy, but I wasn't allowed to have a girl? What the fuck kind of twisted bullshit was this?

For better or for worse, I decided to break off the argument. "Look, dude…I don't wanna fight. I really don't. We both end up miserable when we fight, you know that just as well as I do, so just…let me have this date, alright? Let me go on this one date, and if it sucks, it sucks. I won't go out with her again."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "And if you sleep with her?"

I sighed. "I won't. I won't sleep with her, alright? I won't even let her suck me off. A hand job, maybe, but nothing more."

A small smile made its way to Stan's face. "Alright, fine. I'll leave you alone about this one. But if she turns out to be a fucking psycho bitch, like I know she is, don't you dare come bitching to me." He said, his heart-melting smile still evident.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Oh hey, one more thing; what was it you needed to tell me yesterday in the car? Before Wendy came over?"

I froze and my heart nearly fell into my stomach. My eyes widened slightly and I quickly looked away. "Oh, uh…" Just that I'm in love with you and have been since we were 13 "Kenny told me that Cartman has a thing for Wendy."

Fuck. You fucking dickhole. Of all the things you could've said, that was the first thing that came to mind? Christ, you hate Cartman but not that much.

Stan shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, I figured. He tweeks the fuck out every time she's around. Feel kind of bad for the kid, I'm pretty sure she's the only girl he's ever really had feelings for."

"He's always been the type to pick and choose."

"Poor fucker."

A silence fell between us. While I'm sure he contemplated Cartman's pathetic love life, I thought about my own, and how much of a fucking coward I was when it came to love.

"Alright dude, I gotta go. Guitar lessons in ten. I'll text ya later bro."

We fist bumped (probably the absolute worst thing you can ever receive from someone you love) and moments later, he was gone.

So there I was, going on a date with a slutty blond girl to make my best friend, who may or may not have feelings for me, jealous. I was potentially going to let this girl give me an unwanted hand job in my car to make the love of my life jealous.

There were a lot of things I had hoped to do before I graduated high school, and a lot of things I expected to happen as well.

None of these things were on either list.

Things would never be easy for me, I could tell.