In a high school as small as the one in South Park, news spread fast. Like, really fast. Mostly by Bebe. Which was how Stan and Kyle knew, before entering their first period class (English, who cared) that Rebecca Cotswald had transferred back into their school.

"Wait," Stan said, to Bebe's retreating back (because she only had five minutes until the first bell and there was an entire hallway that hadn't heard yet), "You mean that homeschooled girl?"

"Who?" Kyle asked.

"That girl, you know, from fourth grade," Stan said, which didn't really narrow it down much. "The, uh, the homeschooled one that turned into a slut after you kissed her." They were sitting in the hallway outside the cafeteria as the first bell rang, although neither of them got up.

"Oh, ri — holy shit."

A wave of perfume wafted down the hall, cloying and solid. A girl turned the corner from the main entrance, dressed in an incredibly tight tank top and tight jeans. She was tottering slightly on impractically high red heels, and her expression was almost obscured behind the amount of makeup she had on.

"That Rebecca," Stan said, faintly.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Kyle said, as the late bell rang.

Over the following week, Rebecca became something of an infamous celebrity in their high school. Her elementary school persona had grown over the years into something almost worthy of Jersey Shore, although nobody thought about that show anymore. Even Bebe's miniskirts couldn't compare, although Bebe didn't seem to mind.

Rumors didn't really do Rebecca justice, though. Most of the gossip about her was true. For example, when Stan had walked into his third class on the day Rebecca had returned, she really had screeched, "STANLEY!" and hugged him so that her face was pressed into her mostly-exposed breasts.

(Kenny spent the rest of the day harassing Stan about how soft they had been while Kyle looked on in disgust. "But are they like pudding-boobs or water-boobs? Because ones that big are almost always water-boobs, but some rare ones are the holy trifecta of huge, firm, and perky — " "What the fuck are you talking about, dude.")

It only got worse throughout the week. Rebecca sat next to Stan in every class, regardless of seating arrangement. She flaunted dress code. Her breasts had their own facebook page.

Kyle hated her.

"She's a slut, dude," he said to Stan on Friday. "Like, an actual, has-no-respect-for-herself slut."

"I dunno, she seems pretty ok with what she's doing," Stan said around a bite of a chicken sandwich. His eyes were fixed over Kyle's shoulder, probably at Rebecca's chest. "Besides, I haven't heard about her banging anyone yet."

"She's only been here five days," Kenny said. "Give her time."

Kyle threw a piece of soggy pear at Stan's forehead, which earned him a "gross, dude," but at least he wasn't staring at her anymore. "You only like her because she presses your face into her tits every day."

"Kenny likes her too!" Stan said, wiping off his forehead.


"Kenny just likes her because of her tits too! Stan, aren't you the one who dated a feminist for all of junior high?"

"Well, yeah," Stan said slowly. His eyes were slowly drifting up again, as if drawn by magnets, to past Kyle's shoulder. "But Wendy never dressed like that. Why don't you like her, dude?"

"Because I think there's more to a girl than how much their shirt shows? What the fuck, guys," Kyle said, trying and failing to get Stan's attention again. Leaning his face into his palm, he tossed another piece of pear at Stan's face. It stuck on his cheek and slid slightly, but Stan seemed oblivious.

"You sure you're not a fag, Jew?" A completely unwelcome voice came from behind them.

"Shut the fuck up, Cartman," Kyle snapped, turning around to face the fatass.

Unfortunately, behind Cartman was Rebecca. She was wearing head-to-toe leopard print, and Kyle would never live down the 'gay' accusations if he pointed it out, but it did look pretty awful. She had a small posse around her, a couple girls and a herd of guys, almost none of whom were actually talking to her. In fact, she seemed to be — slowly walking this way? Kyle quickly turned away.

Cartman's fat ass landed at a chair at the lunch table, his food taking up an entire side of the table. "Sorry to break it to you, Jew-boy, but every ugly dick in this school is trying to sleep with her at this point. Everyone knows 'respecting women' is just code for 'likes the cock.'"

"Let me guess, she already rejected you," Kyle said. At the same moment, a slightly breathy voice to his left called out, "STANLEY!"

Kyle whirled to find Stan mostly subsumed into Rebecca's cleavage. He wasn't sure how he hadn't smelled her coming, but the scent of high school meatloaf almost covered her perfume. He could now, though, which was why his stomach turned when Stan pulled his head away from Rebecca's chest with a faintly dazed expression.

"Uh, um, hi?" Stan said slowly, making a valiant effort at looking her in the eye. (Across the table, Kenny and Cartman didn't even try. Kyle was too busy glaring daggers into her feathered hair.)

"I just wanted to tell you," she said, leaning pointedly into his shoulder, "my dad's out of town, so I'm going to be having a party this Friday at my house." She leaned further in, whispering, although still so loud that the whole table could clearly hear her. "It's gonna be pretty small, just the people I invite, okay? Don't go spreading it around."

"Uh," Stan said. He met her eyes. Heavily-mascaraed eyelashes fluttered at him. He blinked. "O..kay?"

"Awesome!" She shrieked, embracing Stan entirely and nearly absorbing his head again. "I'll see you there! Here's my address, ok?" She pulled out a pink pen and scribbled it down on Stan's hand, then capped it with a click and stepped back. "Bye, Stanley!"

"Ngh," Stan said, to her already retreating back.

"She is such a hussie," Kyle snapped, livid.

"You lucky piece of shit," Kenny mumbled. "Are they pudding or water?"

"Give me that address," Cartman said, already reaching across the table for Stan's hand.

"Yeah, me too," Kenny said.

Stan still looked dazed, although he was coherent enough to push Cartman back across the table. "You can't have the damn address, dude, why would you even want to crash this party?"

"Why?" Kenny asked. "Uh, do you see her? There is definitely going to be booze. And chicks. Dude."

"Can't believe I'm agreeing with trailer trash over here," Cartman said, "but yeah. You turning into just as much of a faggot as Kyle? Of course she was inviting all of us."

The bell for the end of lunch rang, and Stan got up and ran off, leaving his half-eaten tray of food behind him.

"God, what a pussy," Cartman said in disgust. He sat still and continued eating, regardless of the people streaming out of the lunchroom.

Unable to believe that he agreed with Cartman a little bit, Kyle ran after Stan.

He caught up to him at his locker in a crowded hallway, halfway through pulling his books out. Panting, Kyle leaned against the next locker, and said, "So, that was weird."

"Mm," Stan mumbled, barely audible over the noise of the hallway.

Kyle blinked down at him. "What?" As Stan continued stacking books, way longer than he actually needed to, he said, "Wait, dude, you're not actually thinking of going, are you?"

Stan finally stood up, almost dropping his math textbook in the process. "- She invited me," he mumbled again, still not meeting Kyle's eyes.

"…Yeah?" Kyle said. "And? Because she clearly wants on your dick, dude."

"Exactly!" Stan exclaimed. "I should be jumping at this chance! A chick who is obviously into me is inviting me to her house with booze, dude."

"You don't even like her," Kyle pointed out.

"No, but shouldn't I do this anyways? We're seventeen, dude," Stan said, as though this was supposed to decide the whole thing.

For a long moment, Kyle just stared at him. The hallway was starting to empty. "Okay," Kyle said eventually. "I mean, yeah, you're right. You should go."

Stan awkwardly swung his backpack back onto his back. He shifted, foot to foot, and adjusted the strap of his backpack. "Yeah, okay — "

"Wait," Kyle said abruptly, grabbing Stan's hand. Stan jumped. "Isn't that the address for the house next to mine?"

It felt really strange, walking down the street to Kyle's house and then just past it, to the slightly greener house to its left. His feet almost automatically took him up the sidewalk of Kyle's house before he remembered where he was going, reminded by the cars lined up on the street in front of Rebecca's house. There was faintly pounding music coming from inside, and Stan, feeling distinctly stupid (people didn't have parties like this in South Park), went up and knocked on the door.

Nobody answered — nobody could probably even hear it over the music — so after a second he very hesitantly opened the door and stepped in.

Whatever Rebecca had said about the party being small, she had either lied, or lost control of it. It was only a little past 9 and there were people everywhere, on the couches, on the floor, dancing awkwardly over by the stereo. It looked like most of their high school was there, looking some combination of awkward, excited, and drunk.

Uncomfortable, Stan drifted away from the door and pulled out his phone.

To: Kyle
this is like something out of a shitty teen movie

He was leaning against a wall with several other people who looked just as uncomfortable as he did, most of whom were on their phones too. The guy next to him said something, but it got lost in the pounding bass of the music. Stan spotted Kenny making out with a probably-drunk sophomore girl on the couch. His phone buzzed.

From: Kyle
i can feel the bass through the floor
my mom's on a rampage about loud music destroying teenager's hearing

Just as he finished reading the text, his phone was snatched from his hands. "Stanley!"

Maybe Rebecca wasn't ignoring dress codes at school, because this was a lot more extreme. She was wearing a shirt that was mostly just a bra, reminiscent of a grown-up version of what she'd worn back at that fourth-grade dance. Her hair was teased to almost twice the size of her head. "Why'd you get here so late? I was starting to think you weren't coming at all!" She hugged him, and, when he was standing, even with heels on, she couldn't press his face into his chest. His stomach felt a little like he had a stomach virus. She drew back and grabbed his hand, still holding his phone in the other one. "Come on, come on, I've got something to show you."

"Can I have my phone," Stan yelled over the music, as he followed her helplessly through the crowd.

She said something in response and then held it out, which Stan quickly grabbed. Her other hand remained iron-firm around his wrist, though, and she was why he was here, anyways, so he let her lead him into the kitchen.

He fired off a quick one handed text to Kyle.

To: Kyle
she found me

"Some of my college friends got me this awesome beer," Rebecca was saying, pulling the beer out from under the sink. The counters were covered with other beers, mostly the incredibly cheap stuff, and a couple handles of vodka that probably tasted more like nail polish remover than anything else. Stan noticed the brand that he was always picking off of his father's cases in the fridge, and quickly turned back to Rebecca. "It's not the cheap stuff, supposed to be this weird German brew that's way more alcoholic. Here, have one." Rebecca held it out to him, and Stan slowly took it in the hand that wasn't holding his phone.

He opened it and took a gulp, weirdly already more relaxed. When he lowered the can, Rebecca was staring at him, looking faintly confused. "You've, um, drank before?" Rebecca said.

Stan's stomach twisted even tighter. "Yeah," he said shortly.

"Oh." Rebecca leaned against the kitchen counter, watching him. She was sipping her own beer — a different brand, he noticed, one of the lighter ones. "I already had one of those," she said, noticing where his eyes were, and then she set the beer on the counter.

"You know," she said, leaning so that her tits pressed into his arm. "I really like you."

"Uh," Stan said, taking another drink to settle his stomach. It didn't do much. He swallowed down the word why, and his phone buzzed again.

From: Kyle
oh god
run while you can

He glanced at her. Her eyes, very slightly unfocussed, were on his face. She was wearing way too much eyeliner. He looked away again, uncomfortable, and quickly texted Kyle again.

To: Kyle
not really why im here dude

"Like," Rebecca said in his ear. She reached over and grabbed the hand that was holding his phone, and pressed it to the counter. "Really like you."

She smelled strongly of artificial-girl, and from this angle there was a lot of her visible. There was no way he was feeling the beer after just a few sips, but his head felt a little fuzzy and his hands kind of unsteady. "Uh," Stan said. "Uhh, yeah."

Rebecca leaned up, and Stan leaned back, and —

"Oh my god, Becky, you've got to stop making out with Stan for two seconds! This is our jam!"

Cold air rushed in as Rebecca was pulled off of him, the smell of alcohol coming back in over the smell of perfume. Bebe was standing behind Rebecca, holding her shoulder and very clearly progressing towards drunk. "What?" Rebecca said.

"I know he's like, your thing, but you've got to dance to this song," Bebe said. "Sorry Stan," she threw in, and didn't seem to hear Stan's nuh in return. "Come on, this is our girl's song," Bebe said, and pulled Rebecca away.

To his great shock, she went, called over her shoulder, "Don't move, Stanley, ok?"

Stan jumped a little as his phone buzzed, his stomach turning itself in knots with confused feelings. He should probably be feeling some regret, but that wasn't what this seemed like.

From: Kyle
im pretty sure i can smell her from over here

To: Kyle
this beer is shitty

Stan glanced around the kitchen. There was no one else he knew well here, and everyone had been drinking. He took another uncomfortable sip of his beer, watching the doorway where Rebecca had disappeared.

Someone with feathered brown hair passed by, and Stan's stomach lurched unpleasantly, so much that he was afraid he was going to throw up again for the first time in years. Without thinking, he turned and stepped quickly out of view of the door.

There was a set of stairs in the corner of the kitchen, and he went up it, away from the noise and the smell and the crowd. There wasn't anyone in the upstairs hallway, and there were suspicious noises coming from the door on the left, so he picked a random door on the right and stepped through it.

What the hell am I doing, Stan wondered, as he continued his retreat. He was supposed to be here for exactly what Rebecca seemed to want, but when he tried to convince himself to leave the room and head back downstairs, he closed the door instead. His chest and stomach and head all felt confused and tight, and thinking about the way that Rebecca had backed him up against the counter filled him with a rush of maybe-arousal and discomfort.

He needed air. The room he was in was weirdly generic — the light was still off, but the bed was made, some clothes piled over by the closet, nothing very distinctive. He made his way over to the window and pushed it open — and then almost dropped the phone that was still in his hand out of it.

"Why the fuck are you sitting there?" He blurted at Kyle, who was sitting on the sill of his window, fiddling with his phone.

Kyle disappeared from view with a yelp and a painful-sounding thump.

Stan cackled with laughter as Kyle shouted "Shut the fuck up, asshole" from the floor of his bedroom. After a moment, Kyle climbed back up, settling himself defiantly back on the sill.

After a second, Stan snickered again, and Kyle joined him, their laughter echoing slightly in the alley between the houses. When Kyle took a breath, he said, "So, party that bad, huh?"

Stan propped his elbows on the window sill, enjoying the chill of late fall. He wondered if he could climb over into Kyle's room from here, escape the house entirely without Rebecca ever the wiser. Probably not. "It's like what would happen when somebody tried to throw a high school party who had only ever seen them on TV."

"That's probably what happened," Kyle pointed out. There was a lull, while he just looked over at Stan, and then said abruptly, "What happened to Rebecca, then?"

Sharp knots tied themselves into Stan's stomach. "Uh." He glanced over his shoulder. "I don't really know. She cornered me against the counter, and then Bebe rescued me, and I ran up here."

Kyle snorted. "Bebe rescued you? What was she going to do, drown you in tits?"

Stan coughed and looked away. "Uh."

Another pause, less comfortable than the first, and then Kyle finally said, "Want to come over and play Gamesphere4?"

"Yes," Stan said instantly. "Yeah. Yes." He looked up, and Kyle was watching him, smiling faintly.

"Cool," Kyle said. "Hey, by the way, whose room are you in?"

"I dunno — "

As Stan turned, the door opened, revealing a Rebecca who was clearly more drunk than she had been a few minutes before. She flicked the light switch on and then stopped, staring at Stan, who was leaning against an open window, staring at her. (Behind Stan, he heard a snort of laughter and the thump of Kyle slipping off the windowsill again.)

"Stanley!" Rebecca near-screeched, jumping up and down a little. "This is where you went to? I mean, I was going to invite you here soon enough anyways, but I don't mind."

"This is your room?" Stan said faintly. He'd imagined more… pink, somehow. Most of the room was white and blue.

"Of course!" Rebecca said. "I mean, I just came up here to change my shirt." As though reminded, she reached down to the bottom of the barely-shirt that she was already wearing. Stan backed up, hands pressed against the bottom of the windowsill, realizing that she was standing between him and the one exit to the room. Casting him a flirtatious smile, she started to pull up, and Stan choked, "AckaaAAAAA — "

He hit the ground hard on his ass on a pile of leaves, the breath knocked out of him. Two faces appeared in the windows above almost simultaneously, calling out "Stanley!" "Stan?"

"Guhh," Stan said. Rebecca was leaning far enough out the window that he could see that her shirt was on crooked, showing nearly all of her chest. For some reason, it looked more hilarious than hot.

"Holy shit, dude," Kyle said. "You didn't, like, break anything, right?"

"No," Stan choked out, still getting his breath back.

"Okay, good," Kyle said, and then started laughing his ass off.

"What are you laughing at!" Rebecca snapped. "He could have been hurt! He is hurt! Stanley, come up here, I'll kiss it better."

"No, thanks," Stan said, and then coughed and repeated himself with actual breath in his lungs. "I'm gonna — go — yeah."

"What?" Rebecca said, as Stan got up off his bruised ass and jogged around to the front door of Kyle's house.

When he opened it, Kyle was already rushing down the stairs, interrupting his mother's exclamation of, "Stanley! What happened, why are there leaves in your hair?"

"Nothing, mom," Kyle said, pulling Stan up the stairs while still laughing his ass off. They stopped in the hallway at the top of the stairs as Kyle entirely collapsed into laughter again. "I cannot- fucking believe-"

"You're such an asshole," Stan said around his own laughter.

Kyle adopted a falsetto. "Just came up here to change my shirt — "

"She wasn't even wearing a shirt to begin with," Stan said, warming up to the topic.

"And then you fell out the fucking window, Jesus, and people call me a fag — "

"You fell out twice- "

"Yeah, in the direction that wasn't going to break my fucking neck," Kyle retorted. They were in front of his door, and Kyle said, "Here, wait here one sec," and went into the room, keeping the door mostly closed. Stan heard the window shut and the blinds fall, and then Kyle came back and said, "Okay, it's safe. She put a shirt on, FYI."

"Good for her," Stan said, and Kyle snorted with laughter.

Stan stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. "So, Gamesphere4?" Kyle said, already setting up the TV. "We still didn't finish that level in Bitches and Berettas 5 yet."

"Sure," Stan said, settling himself on the floor and catching the controller Kyle tossed at him — the one with his name written on the back in blue sharpie — easily. Kyle disappeared behind the television, hooking up the right cables, swearing faintly.

All the knots in Stan's stomach eased all at once, and he felt — something, like nausea but warmer and less scary.

When Kyle reemerged from behind the TV, he glanced at Stan and blinked at whatever expression was on Stan's face. "Uh, you okay, dude?"

Stan opened his mouth, and looked at Kyle, and said, "I heard that if you get full completion on this game, you unlock a level where you do nothing but blow up hookers."

"Dude, fucking sweet," Kyle said, and settled himself down on the floor for a perfect Friday night.




If you enjoyed this story, remember to check out the original artwork that inspired it!