The Scenic Route

Chapter 4

Kyle wakes up when Stan's alarm goes off at six thirty in the morning. There's just a hint of the sunrise in the color of the sky, birds twittering. He feels like something dead that's washed ashore after a storm.

"Are you still sick?" Stan asks. His voice is scratchy but gentle, and Kyle wants to cup his hands around it. Stan touches Kyle's forehead and moans at the heat of his skin. "I shouldn't have let you drink that much."

"Forced me to, more like," Kyle says, mumbling, and Stan snorts. He gets out of bed and starts dressing, packing the last of his stuff. Kyle closes his eyes, doesn't want to leave the bed. If Cartman wasn't joining them he'd be ready to bolt, despite his pounding headache and roiling stomach. As it is, he wants to continue avoiding reality for as long as possible. He yanks the comforter back up and buries himself deeper in the smell of Stan's sheets.

He sleeps more restfully than he did all night, and when he wakes again it's to the sound of Stan's voice. Kyle sits up and blinks in the sunlight through the window, annoyed when he sees that Kenny is in the room, sitting on a beat up old duffel bag and talking to Stan about mosquito repellant.

"Are you finally awake?" Stan asks, turning toward the bed. Kyle moans in response, rubbing his crusted-over eyes. His head still hurts, though less intensely now, and his stomach is growling. His tongue is sour and dry, stuck to the roof of his mouth.

"Kyle's first hangover," Kenny says. He holds up his hands and pretends to take a snapshot.

"Dude, we should take a real picture," Stan says, going for his phone. "I want to take a lot of them on this trip."

"Don't take a fucking picture of me right now," Kyle says. He feels exposed, his jeans and socks crumpled up under Stan's blankets. Kenny and Stan just laugh, Stan hoisting the camera.

"I have to," he says. "For posterity."

Kyle flicks him off, but this only makes Stan laugh harder and take pictures more enthusiastically. When he's done, he slips his phone into his pocket and brings Kyle a bottle of water from his desk.

"I'll get you Advil," he says, patting Kyle's cheek. Kyle swats at him. If it was just the two of them he'd be happy to let Stan nurse him back to health, but he's never liked the knowing way that Kenny smiles when he watches Kyle receive Stan's attentions. He glowers at Kenny when Stan has left the room.

"You're here early," he says.

"No, I'm not." Kenny nods to the digital clock beside Stan's bed. "It's already nine thirty. Cartman's late."

"Shit!" Kyle kicks the blankets away, forgetting to be embarrassed about his lack of pants. "I knew he'd ruin this trip. Let's just leave without him. We'll rob a bank for gas money if we have to."

"Nice boxers," Kenny says as Kyle struggles into his jeans. Kyle looks down at his underwear, his face flushing. His boxers are blue with red polka dots.

"We still have to stop by my house to pick up my stuff," Kyle says. "And I need to change, say goodbye to my parents - dammit, why'd you guys let me sleep so late?"

"Stan said you were sick."

"He was," Stan says, coming back into the room with a bottle of Advil rattling in his hand. "And it's no big deal, Kyle, we'll still get to the campsite way before sundown. Relax."

Kyle takes the Advil, irritable and impatient, watching out the window for any sign of Cartman. He's not sure what he's hoping for. If Cartman doesn't show, they'll have to front the gas money themselves, but if he does, they'll be stuck with his fat ass and loud mouth for six long days.