the asmodai ↣ style

Chapter Eight

Chapter 8: Who Doesn't Love Psychopaths?

"Kyle, your storm drain..." Heidi confusingly pointed.

Ever since Bebe began dating Clyde again, Wendy has been dragging her everywhere as a plus-one, especially for this assignment considering Heidi's dictator familiarity from dating Cartman as a kid.

"I know. I think some huge-ass bird landed on it or something."

Kyle was searching his pockets for his house key. He finally found it and turned the doorknob, swinging the door open. Wendy and Heidi followed him into the house, closing the door behind him and hugging her books to herself with one arm while keeping her bag on her shoulder with the other.

"God, it's freezing in here." Heidi lightly complained, hugging herself for a bit of warmth.

"Mom doesn't like heating an empty house. Hold on, I'll go turn on the heater," he said, kicking off his shoes and disappearing down the hall.

"Hey," Wendy and Heidi heard him call from the kitchen. "You want something to eat?"

Heidi shook her head. A little part of her still held disdain towards Jewish food.

"No, I'm fine," Wendy called back. "We're just going to go up to your room."

Kyle made an acknowledging grunt and they headed up the stairs, keeping one hand up the handrail. They passed an air vent on their way up and could already feel the hot air pouring out of it.

While Heidi felt a little awkward visiting a teen boy's house for the first time, Wendy had been in Kyle's room almost too many times to count. Surprisingly, neither his father nor his overbearing mother had so much as lifted an eyebrow at it. Stan had had far more of a problem with them studying there, and he used to routinely barge in on them 'unexpectedly,' obviously hoping to catch them in some sinful act.

Heidi dumped her books on his desk and pulled out his extra chair, then glanced around the room. Her gaze fell in his window, and the clock-shaped hole in it that had been hastily patched up with some plastic and duct tape. She blinked and her eyebrows rose.

"I sincerely hope you weren't planning on changing your mind and taking some of my food," Kyle commented, coming in the door, a plate in hand. Heidi rolled her eyes and turned to face him.

"Don't worry; your chips are safe from my gluttonous appetite. I'm trying to watch my figure." She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder at his window. "What happened to your window?"

"Ah," he said. "Stan happened to my window. The patch job is crappy because I did it myself. I'm still trying to find the opportune moment to tell my parents."

Wendy furrowed her brow. "Where is your mom, anyway? The house's usually open by the time I come over."

"Some crusade."

"Ah," she said. She was starting to get used to Mrs. Broflovski. After all, she - along with the rest of the third grade - had heard Cartman's catchy jingle about the woman, but you really had to be around her to fully appreciate how true it was.

Wendy bent down and unlaced her boots as Kyle, frowning, put his plate down on his desk and wandered over to his bookcase.

"Something wrong?" Wendy asked, looking up as she unzipped her backpack and pulled out her notebooks and a binder.

"Yeah..." he trailed off and dropped to his knees, pulling out some DVDs and putting them back in the right order. "I think someone's been going through my stuff."

Heidi lifted an eyebrow. "Your room is a pigsty. How can you even tell?"

"It's a systematic mess. Everything has a place. Its place just happens to be on the floor more often than not."