InsaneJournal

I groan loudly as Stan poses in front of the mirror, finger-combing his hair for at least the twelfth time in the past hour. “It looks fine, r-tard. It’s looked fine for hours.”

“Dude, it can’t just be fine. It needs to be perfect.” He sweeps a palm across his bangs, slanting them to one side, then the other, then straight down again. Pushing myself up from his desk chair, I smack him in the back of the head and continue out the bedroom door. “What the hell was that for?” he shouts, and I hop back a few steps, leaning in to glare at him.

“If you don’t go downstairs to greet the girls, none of them will want to sleep with you, no matter how good your hair looks.”

Stan huffs and bites his lower lip. Spinning to face me full-on, he holds his arms out to either side. “How do I look?”

“Like a douchebag who would ask someone how he looks.”

“Dude.”

I grab him by the wrist and drag him towards the stairs, muttering, “Fine, fine, you look fine, okay?”

“Kyle,” he whines, “Fine isn’t good enough. It needs-”

“To be perfect,” I interrupt, my voice scratchy through my teeth. “So I heard. Like a million times.”

I shove him towards the stairs and when he stumbles down the first few steps, I actually worry he might fall all the way down and break his neck. Thankfully, he catches himself quickly, even before anyone downstairs might see his clumsy entrance, and he does his best swagger the rest of the way down. I roll my eyes. What a dumbass.

The living room downstairs is full, more full than I’d expected, and the gender ratio’s just about 1 to 1. I think he invited every girl he’s ever been in the same room as just to up his odds. Around the TV, a cluster of guys are playing video games, though I can make out Bebe’s puffy hair in the middle, and behind them on the couch sits a mass of girls who used to work at Raisins when we were younger, close to being in order of hair color. Stan leans on one arm, chatting up his sometimes girlfriend Kia, and surprisingly, he seems to be doing well. Mercedes has one hand on Kia’s arm, leaning over her to nod and smile at Stan’s stories, while the rest of them chatter and squirm in a tangle of cleavage and curled eyelashes. I make my way over to the other arm of the couch and sit on it, smiling pleasantly. It takes only a few seconds before the dark-haired girl nearest to me – Porsche, I note once I see her face – turns and grabs onto my arm.

“Hi there, cutie!” she giggles. I can smell something bitter on her breath, and I fight the urge to jump up and punch Stan. He had said there wouldn’t be any alcohol.

I force what I hope is a dashing smile. “Hi. Having a good time?”

“Oh my god, yes. This is like, this one time, when I went to Subaru’s house, and she had this imported Japanese beer, called like Seppuku or Buppuke or something? Oh my god. It was sooo good. And the can was, like, blue. Like shiny blue. Did you ever notice how pretty shiny stuff is? Like, Audi and I went to the grocery store, and we saw this new eyeshadow...”

My cheeks hurt from smiling so hard, but I nod and keep it up, tuning her out to try and observe Stan. His conversation with Kia seems to have died down. Mercedes turns away to talk with the girl next to her and Stan swoops in, mumbling something I can hear the tones of but not the actual words. Kia winces, shakes her head, leans to whisper something in Stan’s ear, and I honestly feel my heart drop. So much for a reconciliation this time. To his credit, Stan bites his lip and manages a small smile that doesn’t touch any other part of his face before he turns to walk away. I start after him, but Porsche’s hands close around my upper arm and hold tight.

“Awww, leaving so soon? I don’t even know your name!”

I mean to pull my arm away, but I catch sight of her lonely face, black bangs falling over her eyes, and I say softly, “It’s Kyle.”

“Kyle.” She wrinkles her nose and looks to one side, rolling the word around on her tongue. “Kyyyyyle. Oh, that’s so cute!”

“Is it?” I laugh.

“It’s so cute, oh my god. I love it. Kyle. It’s like as cute as this puppy that I saw by the pond one time, like, jumping around...”

I tune her out again, but not as much this time. Just enough to find Stan out of the corner of my eye. He’s walking away from Wendy – strike 2, I guess – but he seems less upset this time. His eyes flick around, landing on Red at the dining room table, and he swerves towards her. Guess he doesn’t need my help at the moment after all.

I let Porsche ramble on. After a while, I find myself responding to her winding stories, throwing in comments here and there, and when the other Raisins girls shuffle away to get more beer, I slide down onto the couch next to her. We chat, her more than me, until my watch beeps to signal 11 o’clock. Time to check on Stan.

“Porsche, this has been really fun,” I say, lifting her hands gently off of me and folding them over her bare knees, “but I need to go do something. I’ll come back later, okay?”

“You’re an idiot.”

Kyle blinks. “What?”

“I said,” Kenny drones slowly, “you are an idiot.”

Kyle sputters out a few unintelligible syllables before managing an offended “Why?”

“She wanted to bang you and you brushed her off.”

“She slept with me later on, remember? I told you that already!”

“Yeah,” Kenny sighs, “but if you weren’t an idiot, you could’ve gotten in two rounds.”

“... Do you want to hear this story or not?”

Kenny grinds his teeth from side to side, spinning his cigarette. Kyle clears his throat.

“As I was saying...”

She bounces forward, planting a quick kiss on my lips, and coos, “Don’t forget me. Girls like me don’t kiss just anyone, you know.”

In the background, Kenny laughs. Kyle ignores him and continues.

I must look as stunned as I feel, as she just giggles and ushers me up off of the couch. I stop to look back at her, smiling tentatively, before I jolt up the stairs and back to Stan’s bedroom. The door’s closed, and before it occurs to me that I left it open before, I bound in only to see Red straddling Stan on his bed.

“So he slept with Red?” Kenny asks, throwing Kyle a disappointed look. “I thought you said this was weird.”

“He didn’t,” Kyle says. “And it is. Just wait.”

As soon as the situation fully dawns on me, I back out, mumbling a quiet “Sorry,” and shut the door. I can hear Red saying something, and when Stan cuts her off with an anxious tone, I wince. He’s going to kill me for ruining the moment. I decide it’d be best to disappear before he leaves the room, and so I head back downstairs. I spot that the couch is crowded with couples and the rest of the living room is packed with people watching cartoons, and I opt to weave my way into a crowd in front of the kitchen. Over the top of a few heads, I see a hand waving to me, and when I push my way to it, am face to face with Wendy.

“Kyle! How are you?” she says over the TV blaring in the other room, and she reaches one arm out as if to pull me into a hug but stops before she touches me.

“Frantic,” I say with a half-smile. “I kind of hate this.”

“Then why are you still here?”

I flick my eyes up towards the ceiling and heave a loud sigh. “I’ll be helping Stan clean up after everyone else leaves.”

“You’re a good friend,” she says with a sincerity that makes me laugh despite the almost painful squeeze of bodies around me. “Where is Stan, anyway?”

“Trying to score with Red, I think.”

“Oh.” She looks away from me, and I wonder if I should’ve been less blunt.

“Something wrong?”

“No, no. I was just... hoping to hang out with him, is all.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I thought I saw you talking to him earlier.”

She gives me a look with open eyes and says, “I want to hang out as friends.”

“Ah.” It’s the only response I can manage. I fidget with the bottom of my t-shirt. “Yeah, he’s being a dick tonight.”

She just nods.

“You’re off-topic,” Kenny mutters as he grinds his heel into the carpet.

“I’m getting there.”

“You’re stalling, or being nostalgic, or something.”

“I am not! I just making sure I don’t miss anything important.”

Kenny tamps out his cigarette butt and throws it at Kyle’s face. “Wendy’s important?”

“Yes!”

“... Okay. Go ahead.”

I start to turn away from her, but she grabs my wrist and yanks me back. “I almost forgot!” she says, lowering her voice. I can barely understand her words. “I have a message for you.”

“A message?”

“Yeah. A girl with short black hair was looking for you earlier. She asked if someone would tell you to meet her out back, and I told her I would.”

I wrack my brain for a couple seconds, wondering why someone, Porsche, I’m guessing, would want to meet me out there, before thanking Wendy and slipping through the crowd and out the back door. It looks empty out there, the yard a stretch of trampled snow, but as I step down off the porch, something catches my eye. Sure enough, sitting snug right next to the porch is Porsche. She smiles up at me. I sit down next to her, the exposed grass squishing as I move, and ask, “Why in the world did you choose to sit out here?”

“Don’t be silly!” she chirps. “It’s too loud to talk in there.”

She giggles, and I inhale the cold night air. “How long have you been out here?”

“Not long.” She turns to me, blinking slowly, and says nothing else. The shifting light from inside shines over her dark hair, and as I reach out to brush aside her bangs, she pounces on me and kisses me hard.

“And then,” Kenny cackles, “you did her, right out in Stan’s backyard.”

“No!” Kyle’s mouth snaps closed, his face burning red.

“You did do her, didn’t you? After that?”

After a few moments of hesitation, rolling his shoulders awkwardly in the silence, Kyle says, “I did. But we went inside first!”

“Stan’s room?”

“He was still in there.”

“Thought Red ditched him.”

“She did.”

“He had someone else in there already?” Kyle nods, and Kenny swears under his breath. “And I thought I worked fast.”

Neither one says anything after that, Kyle rubbing his eyes and Kenny popping out a fresh cigarette. He glances at Kyle’s stray hand, picking at the carpet, and says after a short drag, “Are you going to keep destroying my house or are you going to finish the story?”

“I...” Kyle starts, and he interrupts himself with a cough. “I changed my mind.”

“You can’t.”

“Watch me.”

“Kyle! C’mon, finish! Who was in Stan’s room? Where’d you fuck Porsche? How was it?!”

Falling onto his back with his hands over his face, Kyle lets out a frustrated moan. “Lexus, Shelly’s room, weird.”

“And Shelly hasn’t killed you?”

“She doesn’t know, dude!” Kyle bites out clearly, “And. She. Never. Will.”

“Safe with me. Lexus, Lexus, Lexus,” Kenny says as he scratches the side of his face, the smoldering tip of the cigarette between his fingers bobbing dangerously close to his hair. “It’s weird because he slept with Butters’s ex-girlfriend?”

“He didn’t sleep with her either.”

“Bullshit! He got another girl up there?!”

Kyle’s not listening anymore, and he continues quietly, “He talked to her. I don’t know about what, Kenny. I wish I did.”

There’s something in the tone of his voice that sets Kenny on edge. He tosses his cigarette down, makes his way over to sit next to Kyle, and peers down at his closed eyes. “Stan was trying to get laid because it was his birthday party, right?”

“The day before he turned eighteen. He was so fixated on Chef’s stupid advice.”

“Kia and Wendy turned him down.”

“Yeah.”

“He had Red in the position, and you screwed it up.” Kenny looks at the ceiling to avoid the fiery glare shot his way. “And then he had Lexus in his room and they just talked. You sure?”

“Certain,” Kyle says as he sits up slowly. “She came and talked to me in Shelly’s room, after Porsche and I... after. She said she’d been looking for me for a while, that Stan was really upset and she thought I’d be the best person to talk to him.”

“Upset about the getting laid thing or about the satellite that crashed through his wall?”

“About not being able to follow Chef’s advice. The satellite thing came later.”

“Oh right, you were with him then.”

“Fucking thing almost ripped my arm off.”

Something slams against the front door, and as they jump to their feet, Cartman barrels into the house. Kyle rolls his eyes and immediately crosses his arms. “You guys!” Cartman shouts, red-faced and tugging at the neck of his coat. “You have to hear this!”

“You’ve dropped down to a C-cup?”

“Kyle, okay, not cool, I’m seriously here.”

“What is it, Cartman?” Kenny asks as he leans to look around him, making sure the door’s still on its hinges.

“I,” Cartman huffs as he thrusts a folded piece of paper out in front of him, “got accepted to Community College.”

Snatching the paper, Kyle unfolds and scans it frantically. From the letterhead to the signature at the end, it all looks legit. “Get the fuck out.”

“You see, Kyle, your Jew conspiracy against me has failed. And no, I will not room with you. Unless you beg. On your knees.”

“Who says I want to room with you, fatass?”

“Why are you in my house?” Kenny interrupts. “Kyle’s mom tell you he was here?”

A thin smirk splits across Cartman’s face and he takes back the acceptance letter from Kyle, holding it out towards Kenny. “No, Keeeeenny. I wanted you to know that I got into college and you diiiiiidn’t,” he drawls.

Kyle punches him in the arm hard, and Cartman whirls around, spitting, “Ow! What was that for?!”

“Every time I forget just how much of a sadistic bastard you are, you do something else to remind me. Go away.”

“Kyle, I just wanted to share with my best friends-“

“Go away!”

“Whuh,” Cartman grunts as, clutching his arm, he wobbles to the door. “Kenny, we can hang out when the PMS Princess leaves for her waxing.”

“Out!” Kyle shouts. He opens the door so fast he almost clocks Cartman in the head and slams it behind him once he leaves. In his pocket, Kenny spins the flint on his lighter. “Kenny,” Kyle starts, but he stops, unsure of what to say.

Kenny doesn’t respond, muttering something about job experience being better than college anyway. He says suddenly, “Want to go get some burgers?”

“You mean, do I want to buy dinner for both of us?”

“Uh huh.”

“I hate you,” Kyle says, but he’s already rifling through his wallet. “I’ve got enough, let’s go.”

Kenny pulls up the hood on his jacket, leaving it loose so he can smoke on the way. As they walk out, Kyle catches his arm.

“Can I finish the story some other time?”

“I guess so.”

“Thank you,” Kyle sighs.

Kenny doesn’t even bother closing the door before he jogs down to the sidewalk. “So long as I get a burger.”

“... Asshole.”