A/N- Hey, guys. I know I should probably finish or at least continue some of my other stories before I start a new one, but I thought this might help with writer's block. Anyway, I know the first chapter is short, but this is just the prologue. I'm planning on having a chapter for most if not all of the major characters. You can request characters for me to do the next chapter on, and I might do them, but I do have specific plans for certain characters. Anyway, let me know what you think, request characters if you want.

"Should I wear the red shirt or the blue shirt tonight?" Stan asks, holding up both shirts. His eyebrows furrow, and he looks so serious I could've sworn that he'd asked a more important question.

Kyle tilts his head, almost matching Stan in seriousness. These two are completely ridiculous. "The blue, I think. You usually wear blue."

Stan stares at both shirts, hesitating. "Maybe I should wear the red then. You know, do something different."

Kyle shrugs. "I guess. Do you have anything else? You could wear black or something."

Stan looks up at him. "Really? Do you think that would be a good idea?"

"I don't know, maybe," Kyle replies, still so very serious about this absurd conversation. "You could try it on, see what you think."

I groan from where I'm lying on the floor and lean up. "Oh my god, who cares! It's a fucking party, you've know these people your whole lives."

Stan shot me a brief glare. "It's the last party before we head to college. It could be the last time I see these people in a while. I want to leave a good impression."

I snort a laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure once you puke in the bathroom and pass out on the floor, they'll all have lovely memories of you."

He responds by throwing a pillow at me. "Fuck you, dude."

I stick my tongue out. "You know I'm right, though."

He hesitates for a moment and then gives me a sheepish glance. "Maybe."

"Uh-huh," I answer, raising my eyebrows and grinning.

He sighs and stares at the shirts again. "I just want to make Wendy regret it, you know?"

Kyle laughs. "I'm sure Cartman will do that for you."

Stan turns around abruptly and points at both me and Kyle. "We're not speaking to him. Remember that."

"Dude, he and Wendy haven't spoken since it happened," I interject.

Stan shoots me a glare. "I thought we weren't speaking to him."

"I don't remember agreeing to that," I reply. Kyle and Stan both just stare at me. I put my hands up. "Look, I don't want to get in the middle of your issues."

Stan rolled his eyes. "Being non confrontational helps no one, Kenny."

I grin. "I don't know. It helps me. Besides, you have Kyle who agrees with everything you say-" Kyle glared at me for that- " and Cartman has Butters who agrees with everything he says. If I picked a side, it would be uneven."

Stan raises an eyebrow at me before looking back at his shirts. "Yeah, that's kind of the point, isn't it? I'm the one in the right here. I should have more people on my side."

I shake my head. "No, it has nothing to do with who's right or wrong. Besides, you people need a neutral party."

Stan just sighs at me. "Whatever. I really don't care that much."

I narrow my eyes at him and tilt my head a little. I'm good at reading people, really. But I find him hard to read. Everyone else is easy. Cartman never makes his feelings a secret, Butters is always so genuine, Craig's a bad liar, Clyde is an asshole. Wendy is predictable. Kyle is… Well, he's Kyle. I've been able to read Kyle like an open book for as long as I can remember. He can't keep things from me. But Stan… Stan is a mystery. I know he's sensitive, and I know he compassionate. But he's so emotion-driven… I guess he's the one that's the most like me. He's impulsive. You can't predict impulse.

As I'm in the middle of my thoughts, Kyle kicks me from where he's sitting on the bed and glares at me.

What? I mouth at him, frowning.

You're upsetting him, he mouths back. Then he kicks me again.

I rub my knee where he kicked me and glare. He knows I won't do anything, though. He's the only one I'd let get away with that and he knows it.

"What time does the party start?" Stan asks, turning back to us and smiling.

"I think eight," Kyle says, glancing at his watch.

"We probably shouldn't get there until nine though," I add. "It'll be boring before that."

"Yeah, that makes sense," Stan say. He looks back at the shirts. "I think you're right about the black."

Kyle grins and raises an eyebrow. "I'm rarely wrong."