The Scenic Route

Chapter 15

Kyle turns slowly, feeling for the second time today as if the world he's inhabiting is more nightmare than reality, a kind of snow globe that he's become trapped inside, one that somebody keeps savagely shaking every time he thinks he's figured out how to breathe in its glitter-choked water. Stan is there, towering over their table, his expression so bereft of forgiveness that Kyle almost doesn't recognize him. They always forgive you. Cartman said that. Like so many things Cartman says, it's not true.

"Stan," Kyle says, feigning exasperation, as if Stan misheard that. Kyle is just praying Stan didn't hear him describing him as cute, will have to worry about the rest later.

"I just spent ten minutes listening to Kenny bullshit about how I should be nice to you," Stan says. "I don't know how you managed to get him back on your side, but he didn't hear what you said to me at the hospital."

"What did I say to you?" Kyle asks, furious, his face getting hot. "The truth? Hurts, yeah? Like how you only stayed friends with me because you felt sorry for me?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Stan asks. They've got an audience now, the bikers and a few waitresses turning from the counter.

"You blamed me for causing problems between you and Wendy!" Kyle says, trying to keep his voice low. He's not sure Cartman has enough bullets to fend off more offended hillbillies.

"I did not!" Stan says.

"Yes, you did, you fucking liar!" Kyle jumps up from the table, forgetting to control himself. The rage is a powerful ally; he lets it wrap around him like armor. "'Oh, Kyle, your pathetic ass was waiting for me, you were alone, it's not my fault I was a shitty boyfriend, it was all you.' That's great, Stan - I'm glad I could serve as your fucking scapegoat for the fact that you didn't have the balls to break it off with her and sleep around."

"Uh, fellas," Butters says, popping up from the table. "I think we're making a scene here. Maybe we should go."

"Fine," Stan says. He grabs Kyle's wrist and tugs him toward the door. "But this isn't finished."

"Yes, it is!" Kyle says. He yanks himself out of Stan's grip. "It's finished, okay? You'll be in football camp tomorrow and I'll be flying home with Cartman. The end, Stan. You made sure of that when you picked a mortgage downpayment over me."

"Quit embarrassing yourself," Stan says through gritted teeth. He yanks Kyle toward the door again, and Kyle wants to fight free, to hit him, but they don't need anymore attention than they already have, so he lets Stan pull him out into the parking lot, the harsh sunlight blinding him for a moment.

"Whoa, whoa," Kenny says from somewhere within the glare. Kyle can smell his cigarette. "I thought we were making progress with this?"

"Stay the fuck out of it, Kenny!" Stan shouts. Kyle has never seen him feral like this, not even on the football field, and it's alarmingly hot. The sun is so bright that Kyle doesn't regain his bearings until Stan pushes him up against the side of the car.

"You are a hypocrite," Stan says, jabbing his finger in Kyle's face.

"Excuse me?"

"Fight, fight, fight!" Cartman calls from the door of the restaurant, but Stan ignores him.

"You ditched me for the Ivy League," Stan says. "You could have come to my school. It's a good school, Kyle! And fuck you for thinking I would ignore you and chase pussy and turn into some jock asshole. You really think I'm that worthless? That fucking shallow and cheap?"

"At thirty grand I'd hardly say you were cheap," Kyle says, hating every word. He watches the anger drain from Stan's features, replaced by naked shock.