"What the crap? How come nobody called me?" Cartman screams at us.
"Dude we did call you but you hung up." Stan said. He was standing to the right of me. Kenny was on the other side and Butters was cowering behind me.
"Dude! When I say I want to come with you guys to see Terrence and Phillip at the damn mall, then I want to fucking go!"
"Cartman. Did you not say 'shut up Jew, I'm taking a dump' when I called you?"
This started a few days ago. We heard that Terrence and Phillip are coming to South Park. Now, Kenny, Stan and I are arguing with Cartman over it.
"E-Eric, calm down. You're scaring me!" Butters buried his head in my back; I felt his hot tears on the back of my neck.
"Ok. I'm going home. I'm not gonna argue with Cartman anymore" I say
"Kyle! What the crap?" Stan's panicked voice hurts my ears to hear. I feel a small twist of pain in my chest but I ignore it. I know...I like Stan. A lot. I don't know why but when I see him, I feel the urge to protect him. No, no, I'm not gay, right? He's pretty much my only friend, Kenny and Butters...ugh. I realized I'm drifting away in thought when I hear Cartman call me a fag.
"AY? You hear me, Kyle? Or are you day dreaming about Stan again?"
"Hey, man. That's not cool. Your not gay, right Kyle?" Stan stares me.
"We're not talking about Terrence and Phillip any more, are we?" Kenny pulls his hood away to talk.
"Like I said. I'm going home" I say with a monotone voice. I turn, with Butters hanging on to me. I promised him I'd come home with him, but suddenly I don't feel to good. I pluck his thin fingers from my jacket and stumble away. Cartman was still screaming at me, but he turned his attention to Stan and Kenny. Finally, I get home.
With a grunt, I flop on my bed. My hat is on the floor, along with my shoes and jacket. It's dark in my room, but not too dark. My stomach knots as I hear a click at my door.
"Hey sweetie," my mom's abrasive accent hurts my ears. I guess just sound hurts now. "Are you upset? You walked right by the lunch I made you."
"I'm ok" no, I'm not. She sits by my side, her warmth radiating onto me. I still look ahead, blankly, at the ceiling.
"Good, I want my little boy to be happy" she pinches my cheek and I brush her hand away. I feel so weak.
"Okay. What's wrong with you?" Her tone changes.
"Can-" I stop. I don't know how to articulate the feelings I can't even recognize "can I please be alone? I want to rest. Sorry I pushed you away" my voice sounds like the agony I feel. I sound miserable, I bet I look it.
"Okay. I understand. I was a teen, too, you know" the word "teen" echoes in my head. Teen? Really? I still feel twelve. Well, I'm going to say I just don't have an age right now. I turned 15 the other day, didn't I? My brain is fried.
"Okay, sweet heart. I get it. I'm going to be in the living room if you need me. I love you" She kisses my forehead and I bashfully look away. Slowly she shuts my bedroom door and I wait to hear her walk down the hall. I flip over and stare at my phone. It sits lonely on my night stand, placid. I'm tempted to text someone. No, call, I can't lift my arms enough to type in those ridiculously puny buttons. Then, my phone rings. It's Stan.