The Scenic Route

Chapter 3

"You should name it," Kyle says, sniffing the cup. It smells like perfume and melted candy.

"Alright," Stan says. "I call it, 'A drink girly enough for Kyle.'"

"Fucker," Kyle says, punching him. The drink is actually kind of tasty, the Sprite masking the taste of the vodka. Stan has a beer, and Kyle finishes his first drink quickly, holding the red plastic cup out so that Stan will make him another.

"Hey, guys!" Bebe says, heading toward them as Kyle sips from his second drink. "I'm glad you could make it!" She always acts like a hostess when Clyde has a party at his parents' house. Bebe has been with Clyde since elementary school. Their fights are legendary, and they're said to have had sex in every single room of the high school, on a dare that, as far as everyone could tell, they posed to each other. They both treat each other like shit in public, but Wendy claims that they care about each other in some twisted way.

"This music is awful, right?" Bebe says. She hangs on Stan's arm, a Smirnoff Ice in her free hand. "I told Clyde the music was awful, but he doesn't listen to anything I say."

"Are you guys going to the same college?" Stan asks.

"Yes, ugh." Bebe frowns, looking through the door that leads into the living room, where Clyde is standing near the sofa, talking to Craig. "Clyde is following me there, more like. He's such a fucking baby, he'd never go to college without his safety net. Whatever, we're broken up. Did Wendy tell you that?"

"Wendy's still mad at you for prom," Kyle says. Stan gives him a wide-eyed look over Bebe's head. Kyle shrugs and drinks more from his plastic cup. This one is stronger than the first, seems like.

"Is she seriously still mad about that?" Bebe asks. She touches her hair self-consciously, peering up at Stan, who shakes his head.

"Kyle's a lightweight," he says. "He's talking shit. She's not mad."

"I didn't even realize that was her bed," Bebe says, frowning. "I was pretty out of it. I offered to have her sheets dry cleaned!"

"She's fine," Stan says, waving his hand through the air. "Is she here yet?"

"I saw her out on the back porch," Bebe says. "Why? Are you guys going to have 'the talk' now? You can use Clyde's bedroom if you want!"

"Use my bedroom for what?" Clyde asks, appearing in the doorway. He takes a beer from the cooler and slaps Stan's hand in greeting, ignoring Kyle. Clyde got too cool to acknowledge Kyle back in middle school, when he was one of the first boys in eighth grade to get a blow job. Bebe was the giver, and she slapped the shit out of him in the middle of the hallway when she found out that he'd told everyone.

"I don't need to use Clyde's bedroom," Stan says.

"He and Wendy still haven't had 'the talk,'" Bebe says, whispering loudly. She seems pretty lit already, and Kyle thinks this is as good an excuse as any to make himself another drink.

"We're not gonna have the talk," Stan says. "We're just gonna play it by ear. See what happens when we get out there."

"You'd better not leave her for a cheerleader," Bebe says. Kyle laughs into his plastic cup at the thought. Stan with a cheerleader, someone pocket-sized who he could fuck after the games. He'd propose to her on the jumbotron at a Broncos game. She'd be wearing fuzzy white ear muffs, glittery eye shadow. Kyle has thought about this before, and what excuses he might come up with to keep from having to stand on that altar, the best man. It'd be easier to watch him marry Wendy.