Ahhh, finally I can release this! This was so fun to write you guys, I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 11:
The walk back to E. Bonanza Street is a long and quiet one. But hey, my brain is flooded with preoccupying thoughts so what the hell do I care. I have to think of what I’m going to say when I get back to Cartman’s house. My Mom and her insistent family bonding time can wait and it’s not like she’ll be too bothered by me being late. She’s probably still on her “My adopted Son won a national competition” high. I plug my earbuds into my phone, letting my music pick up the pace of my steps.
It shouldn’t be too hard to think of what to say to Cartman’s parents, really. Whatever might be going on, Cartman is still Liane’s son. She of all people wouldn’t let Cartman freeze to death. I’ve known that since we were young.
Whenever we went on camping trips she made it a point to make sure he really wanted to go. She’d fold every single one of his clothes and neatly pack them into his backpack along with a meal of his choice, even if it took all day to accomplish and kept us waiting. She told him over and over that he should call her if he needed her for anything.
Back then, her coddling always pissed Cartman off, but he probably misses that right about now…
My footsteps slow to a stop when I feel a tiny soft particle land on my face.
…Snow… Right now it’s coming down in gentle sprinkles.
Dammit… I hope Cartman will be alright out here. Hopefully the snow’s only a light layer…
Oh, what am I saying? I can get him home before the night ends.
My steps escalate to a brisk walk, then to a jog. It’s only 11 AM, but the sooner I get this over with the better. The Cartman household is thankfully at the end of the street and comes into view quickly. Whenever I can see my goal I tend to get there faster. I make my way down their extensive walkway and up the doorstep.
All they need to know is Cartman’s being stubborn and needs a little push to apologize. Parents tend to listen to the defense of their kid’s friends better than the kid’s own defense. And when we’re talking about Cartman, he could definitely use the help. I press my finger to the rounded doorbell and let it ring, letting my music play in one earbud while I wait.
Now that I think about it, was anyone home when Cartman broke in this morning? There didn’t seem to be any reaction at all to the glass shattering.
Huh. I wonder if it was too quiet for them to hear from anywhere except the back?
Just then the door opens, and I’m once again greeted by Liane Cartman.
“Oh, hello again Kyle.” She coos. She’s dressed a little more modestly now, wearing a billowy nightgown.
“Morning Mrs. Cart-”
“Reynolds,” She speaks over me.
Bad start already. “Liane will probably be easier for me to remember.” I say.
Her smile widens and she places her hand on her hip. “What can I do for you, sweety?”
yummykyman 
