Waiting on an Enemy

Chapter Seven: It's Not the Fall that Hurts

It's quiet. The snow is falling peacefully outside, and Cartman hasn't said a word to me since the bus dropped us off. Luckily I was the only person in the backroom, so I didn't have to change outside in the cold. My whole body is suddenly warmed by the fact I was wearing more clothing- my ears particularly grateful for the flaps on my green hat. I walk back outside with my backpack on and see Cartman waiting under the streetlamp.

When I walk toward him, he notices me, then turns his back on me and continues down the road, toward our part of town.

What does he want from me? Obviously something, otherwise he wouldn't be putting up with all of this.

"Um..." I begin awkwardly, following him through the darkness. I couldn't think of what to say.

"We should be there in about twenty minutes. It'll be faster now that you're not in heels," he responds quickly, not once turning to look at me.

He continues walking forward. The only time this kid has ever been nice to me is when he's about to do something particularly malicious, so I can't trust him to be genuinely kind. Ever. I learned that many times over when I was young and stupid.

He doesn't reply, or slow down in his step. I realize he hadn't asked for his jacket back. It was in my bag. "Do you want your jacket?" I ask, walking faster so as to be beside him instead of trailing him.

He sideways glances at me as I catch up. He shakes his head, his hands in his pockets. "Not really, no."

Silence falls between us again. How did this all happen anyway? Right- he's my customer. I need the job. To date... I've saved up five hundred dollars, not counting the two hundred Cartman just said was mine...

"Cartman," I begin, "Can you please tell me why you're being so nice to me?" I try to catch his eyes, which was hard to do in the darkness. There was the vague light coming from faraway buildings, but otherwise all we had was the moon.

He looks like he's thinking hard, then answers slowly, "I don't feel like wasting my time tonight."

I blink- not exactly an answer, but close. His eyes look distant. How much did I actually know about Cartman? Not enough to know his genuine motives for everything. He was really good at lying and tricking people, and I'd fallen for his lies more than once. This was Cartman after all... but, he didn't seem to be lying about this fact.

I yawn- I, too, was tired. Hopefully in the time we had to walk back into town, he wouldn't try to kill me. I'll... trust him, for now. The busy area of town where Angel Morte was finally ended, now, a snowy landscape surrounded us. It would have looked very pretty if I wasn't completely used to it by now.

It's quiet between us again- the only audible sounds were a faint car alarm in the distance and the snow crunching under our shoes. I vaguely wonder if my mom has called the cops yet. If I weren't careful, she would drive down to the library I was supposedly at and rush in, yelling for her 'Bubbala.' I can already hear what she's going to say when I get home.

'Oh Bubbala, where have you been? You said you'd be home hours ago, just look at what a mess your room is!' I cringe as I think about how she'll continue. 'You need to take some time out of playing with your friends and do your chores!' (When was the last time I'd hung with my friends?) 'Have you studied yet, today? I know you were at the Library, but did you remember those math problems? I'll just test you tomorrow on it, be sure to go to bed early. Blah blah blah...'

There was a reason I'd always left my cell phone at home. I found out a few months ago she'd put a tracking device in it, and anytime I left the vicinity of home or school, it would alert her. What kind of parent pays the phone company to completely limit her child's freedom?