the asmodai ↣ style

Chapter Four

Chapter 4: The Wittingly Named Chapter 4

"Kyle," Wendy said, "will you be our partner?"

"Why?" he asked, turning around to glance at her and Heidi.

"We want to talk to you."

"Why?" he repeated.

"Just come on, would you?" Wendy snapped, grabbing his wrist and yanking him off to the opposite side of the gym. Kyle glanced over his shoulder and gave Stan a helpless, what-you-going-to-do? shrug as he was dragged off.

Stan frowned after them. If Wendy was snagging Kyle for partner stretches, that meant he'd be stuck with Cartman, in light of Kenny's most recent not-so-unsuspected demise.

Every PE class started with running three laps around the track. The PE teacher, whom Kenny assured everyone who'd listen was a dyke, butch hair cut and all, had ignored his complaints of chest pains and told him to run it off. He'd gone a few feet before he doubled over in a coughing fit and eventually died. As Stan had predicted, smoking had killed him.

Or perhaps it was all the PE students who'd trampled over him to get a better time on their run.

Stan sighed and held Cartman's feet while he did crunches. Not that 'did' was the right word. More like 'pretend to try whenever the teacher looked in their direction.' "What does Wendy want with Kyle? And why is Heidi-" he wondered out loud.

"What?" Cartman demanded, abandoning his faked exercises and sitting up to look at Kyle, Wendy and Heidi.

"God dammit, he already has you, and now he's horning in on Heidi? They should castrate all these Jew-whores at birth!"

"God, you too?" Stan snapped. "Kyle doesn't have me. We aren't gay!"

"Stan, If you two were any gayer, you'd be shitting rainbows."

Stan scowled at him. "Why do you care, anyway?"

"I don't." Cartman gave Kyle a nasty look while he said it. Not that it was anything out of the usual for Cartman to glare at Kyle.

—-

"Okay," Kyle said, speaking every time he came up on his crunches, "why do you two want to talk to me?"

"It's about Stan."

"Oh," he said, dropping back down to the floor.

"Kyle, I mean it," Wendy said, poking him in the knee. He did a few more crunches and when she got tired of him avoiding her eyes, she spoke again.

"He's still jealous that we study together, you know. Every Thursday he sits on your couch and plays video games and pouts."

"I know."

"He thinks we like each other."

"I know."

"Look Kyle, I'm not going to be your..." she flipped her hand looking for the right word. "Your beard!"

"Aw, just because I'm not shaving yet doesn't mean you have to rub it in."

"You know what I mean!" she snapped. Kyle came up and instead of dropping back down again he crossed his arms over his knees and gave her a thoughtful look.

"Why do you care so much all of a sudden, anyway?"

"What do you mean?" she said quickly.

"I mean you haven't cared about 'being my beard' until now. There some guy you like or something?"

Wendy flushed a little but the PE teacher blew her whistle before she could deny it. She got up and when she spoke again, her voice had a steely note.

"I'm serious, Kyle. If you don't sort this out with Stan, I... I won't enter the science fair with you when we're seniors!" She stormed off; Kyle paled and hurried after her.