Chapter 1
I thought i had done a good job of concealing myself, after all these years. I thought i had perfected the art of blending in to the wallpaper, of being the one that all gazes glaze right over, the one who was so integrated to the background that he himself has no problem overlooking him. I had to work pretty hard after fourth grade to get to where i am today. Or, where i was at the beginning of the summer.
Before Harbucks, i like to call it.
Before my mother practically pried me out of my room with a crowbar and told me that i wasn't spending another summer trapped in the house. She told me that i was supposed to be out having fun with my friends. I refrained from telling her that i didn't really have any friends at the moment, and that i was probably never going to have any friends who were worth me dragging my skinny ass outside for. Not that i have a problem with that; i'd prefer to be alone. That's why i sequestered myself so severely.
Anyway, back to my story.
She told me that getting a job would not only get me out of the house for a little while each day, but it would also give me a bit of pocket money. Although, i still have yet to figure out what i would be spending my money on; i don't need a car in such a small town, i'm fairly content in all of my outdated possessions and as stated before i don't have any friends who would want to go out and do things with me. I mean, i could put some of it away for college, but i hardly think a summer or two of working at a cheap coffee place will put even a small dent in the overall fund.
Fuck, i'm getting off track again.
Regardless of all of those factors, i went out and got a job at the Harbucks Coffee around the corner from my house. I figured that if i surround myself with stuff i like then maybe i'll start to like the job itself. I've been there for about a month and a half now, and the summer is nearly half way through. It's not as painful as i would have first imagined to to be, but i would much rather be at home listening to my weird music and reading in the privacy of my room. I'm not usually on register, though, which is really good. If i was up front, i would have to talk to and regularly interact with people, and i'm not very apt in that department. At least i can make a good cup of coffee. See, i wish i was good at talking to people. I really, really do. I hate to admit it, but it gets lonely being alone all the time.
Anyway, there i am about two days ago, mopping the tiled floor just after closing time when my coworker, Bebe Stevens, invites me to a party.
Firstly, i despise parties. I'm as socially graceful as a cat with one leg and i stutter every single time i open my freaking mouth. I'm not a partygoer, okay? At all. My fashion sense is so out of touch that i've resigned to wearing only skinny jeans and baggy sweatshirts. My hair refuses to cooperate no matter how i wear it; long, short, gelled, flat ironed, curled, pulled back, left down. It is having none of that. Now, its just a big blonde rat's nest that sits atop my head and hides my slightly-too-big forehead. My eyes are too wide for my face, not to mention the fact that i wear thick black glasses. The problem with my figure is that i'm super tall as well as being a fucking string bean. I'm six foot seven; if i try to find flattering jeans they're too short for my legs and if i actually find a comfortable shirt it would more likely fit a child.
Secondly, i despise the people that go to parties. I'm a target. Just a huge target with red and yellow flashing lights and a bullseye pasted to my back. Put me in with drunk assholes and high bastards and you've got a recipe for disaster. The last time i went to a party was in sixth grade, and i'll never forget it. This was before alcohol was introduced and it was a horrible night for me. Now add booze to the picture and i might not even make it home in one piece.
Thirdly, i'm just too exhausted to entertain anyone worth entertaining. Sure, a couple cups of coffee can fuel me enough to get through the work day, but anything after hours and i'm a freaking zombie. When i get home, my body knows that it's time for me to relax. And, for the record, i do sleep. A few years ago a rumor started to circulate that i never slept because i was a robot. Any potential friends i had then disappeared as if i was contagious or something, like i could kill them with a single glance. Its just really sporadic and i can never control when i fall asleep or how long i stay asleep. Most nights i'm so exhausted my brain could leak out of my ears and i wouldn't know it, but i just can't fall asleep. Its pure torture.
So then what the fuck am i doing at a party?
I look at my shoes as i raise a hand to knock on the front door, my jaw tight. I just couldn't say no to Bebe; either she really knows how to be convincing or i have a problem with saying no. Probably the latter. The issue with this is that i can't tell she's just inviting me because its a polite thing to do or if she actually wants me here. I mean, we work together, yeah. But i don't really think she considers me a friend. We talk a little bit at work, but its nothing more than mannerly chit chat to pass the time.
Personally, i think she's really nice. She talks to me like i'm a regular human being, not a bomb that could blow up at any moment. She smokes with me during our breaks and then waits for me to finish to go back inside. Sometimes she gives me rides home, which i like even though i live right around the corner. Some nights, i really need it and she's aware of that. Overall, she's just a great, genuine person.
Before my hand makes the slightest contact with the door it swings inward, two seniors barreling out. They knock me out of the way and i have to scramble for the railing to keep myself upright, the alcohol wafting off of them swirling around my nose as i fumble.
"You're both fucking bastards!" Bebe shouts out the door, her face twisted into a mask of rage. One of the seniors flip her off as the other pulls him toward the street, slurring about just letting her cool off. I blink in surprise, my hands curling closer to my chest. Bebe turns to me, a slight bit of confusion flashing through her eyes before she smiles warmly at me.
"Tweek!" The sound of my name makes me jump. "I'm so sorry you had to see that. I'm glad you could make it! Everyone is out back, by the pool. I'll be back in a second." I nod curtly, wringing my hands as i slip past her silently. I stand awkwardly in the doorway, my eyes flickering around her entryway. Okay. This doesn't seem as bad as it could be.
As i'm being my usual awkward self, i hear some more people saunter up the stairs behind me. Swallowing hard, i step aside and turn to face them, catching a glimpse of chestnut hair and a letterman jacket behind Bebe.
"Hey," Clyde Donovan's voice rings through my ears and i shrink further away from the door. "I'm sorry we're late."
"I didn't want to come." Craig Tucker states plainly, his voice a monotone as he walks inside. I stare openly at the top of his head as he walks past me, my arms pulled tightly against my sides. He doesn't spare me a second glance as he walks through the foyer, his expression already bored as he waltzes into the kitchen. Like i'm complaining; for as much attention that i call upon myself, i don't enjoy being stared at. I hear Clyde sigh from the door.
"Sorry about him. I figured he could use some air. I don't want him to die in his room from lack of exercise." Clyde says, rubbing the back of his neck. Bebe just smiles and waves her hand, leaning on the door frame. I decide to leave them alone, not wanting to intrude any more than i already am. Willing my feet to move, i follow Craig's path into the kitchen as i push my glasses up further on my nose. I find him stooped into the fridge, rummaging through it lazily.
"Can i help you with something?" He asks without turning around, his voice just as uninterested as his expression was a moment ago. Suddenly a popping sound rings in my ears and i jump, my shoulders stiffening. He straightens up and turns around, raising a soda to his lips as he cocks an eyebrow at me.
"Oh, uh. M-Me?" I mumble, jabbing a finger into my chest as i back away a step. He glances around and nods, closing the fridge and hopping onto the counter.
"You're the only other person in here, yeah," He states, folding one arm over his chest as he sips at his drink. As if it should have been obvious that he's talking to me. He's never spoken a word to me before. At a loss for what to say, i shake my head, keeping my eyes down as i inch towards the back door. I turn my back to him as i grip the handle of the sliding glass door, trying to concentrate on pulling it open. It won't budge. Oh god... I suddenly feel trapped, my heart speeding up as my blood pumps wildly in my ears. Craig slides off the counter with a sigh, walking up beside me and pulling open the other side of the door.
"Wrong side, genius." He says, raising his eyebrows slightly at me as he nods towards the back door. Before i'm even two steps onto the back deck the door slides shut behind me, clipping the back of my sneaker and making me stumble into someone. She turns around and raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me, obviously confused. I stutter out apologies as i inch away, deciding that i should just bail right then and there.
I force a deep breath into my lungs, exhaling slowly as i feel myself begin to calm down. I just want this to be over. I look out over the backyard, watching the surface of the water move lackadaisically around the people lounging, floating and playing among it. It looks really fun; if i were normal, like the rest of my classmates in attendance, i'd be having a really good time. Bebe knows how to throw a nice party, i have to say. At least no one is completely drunk yet. Music drifts softly around the crowd, loud enough to be heard but not intrusive either. There are glow sticks floating on the surface of the pool in all types of colors, casting a neon glow over the water. Some coolers are lined along the far side of the deck and i stride towards them, rooting through the beer, soda and other various drinks before i find a small bottle of water at the bottom. I toy with the cap in my fingers as i take a drink, reveling as the cold branches though my chest.
"Join the party, Tweek." Someone claps a hand on my shoulder, making me sputter and spill some water down my chin. "Oh, sorry dude." Clyde says, offering me a small grin. I turn to face him, already shaking my head and apologizing as i back up a bit from him and Bebe. The back of my calf hits one of the plastic coolers and i fall directly onto it, spikes of pain shooting up my spine. I don't have much padding back there. Its like landing on cement.
"Oh! Are you okay?" Bebe asks softly, extending a hand to help me up. I nod, pushing myself off the cooler.
"Yeah, i'm fine. I-It was an accident. No h-harm no foul, r-right?" I laugh nervously, wringing my hands tightly as i stagger down the steps. Once i'm far enough away from them, i smack the heel of my hand against my forehead, sighing dejectedly. God, i'm so awkward. Its painful how socially inept i actually am. I just want to go home.
"Smooth retreat, man," Craig mumbles from the stairs, tossing his now empty can of soda into a nearby trash can. It spins around the rim before falling neatly inside of it, joining the other cans and bottles in the bottom. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, rolling my eyes towards the ground as i shrug one shoulder. "Do you say anything other than 'I'm sorry,' or are those the only two words in your vocabulary?" Surprised, i lift my gaze to meet his eyes and raise an eyebrow, tilting my head slightly. Did he actually just ask that?
"I can, yeah," I say defensively, folding my arms tightly over my chest. Craig raises his hands in mock fear.
"Sorry," He says, pursing his lips. "Never heard you say anything else before."
"Ngh. M-Maybe that's because i don't like talking to complete dicks." I mumble under my breath, turning on my heel and striding towards the pool. God, he's annoying. What i want to do most is shove past him like a child and walk right out the front door, flipping him off. I mean, why the fuck would you ask someone that? Its rude.
Maybe Craig is just as deprived of social graces as i am, in a different way.
Sighing under my breath, i perch on the lawn chair farthest away from the pool. I've always liked swimming. I was on the swim team freshman and sophomore year, actually. My mom used to tell me that i was born to be in the water, and that she had known since she put me in the bath for the first time when i was a newborn. Plus, swimming calms me down a lot. My coach says that i'm good enough to get a sports scholarship for college, but i don't really want to think about that yet. I just want to get through junior year before i even begin to think about where i want to go to college. I'm comfortable with letting everything just stay the way it is right now.
"Out of my seat, faggot." Cartman's voice sends icicles of fear through my brain and i turn to look at him, blinking in surprise. A sly smile spreads over his face and he takes a step closer, closing what little distance was between us. "Or i'll move you myself."
Oh god... What the fuck could he mean by that? There's a variety of options. Cartman is one of the biggest assholes and he makes sure to torture me daily when we're in school, no matter where we are or what time it is. As i move to stand Cartman catches me by the hood of my sweatshirt and drags me to the edge of the pool, holding me so close to the edge that the glow rising from the water reflects off the toes of my grubby sneakers.
"Looks like you weren't quick enough, Twitchy." He clucks his tongue, shaking his head. The sound of his awful nickname for me buzzes in my brain like an angry bee. "Yet again."
Before I know what's even happening, Cartman lets go of me and nudges me over the edge with his elbow. Laughter is already swirling around my ears as the worn treads on my sneakers give way easily to the slick stone around the pool, my body jerking itself around to try and keep itself out of the water below it. I whack the side of my head on the edge as i go splashing through the net of glow sticks, my eyes closing as a strong pain spreads through my head. Suddenly the sound is sucked away by the water that closes rapidly around me, swallowing me like an angry beast.
I'm out of my element. I can't tell which way is up or down and my limbs feel too heavy to move. My breath is gone and within seconds i'm sputtering like a fish out of water, my fingers clawing at the water in an attempt to get me to move. 'How ironic.' I think calmly, my thoughts settled in the silence surrounding me. My clothes and shoes only drag me down quicker, making it harder for me to get to the surface. Bright white lights flash around the edges of my vision, growing brighter and bigger as i fight to draw oxygen into my scorching lungs. Panic rises in my throat and takes hold around my brain, my limbs fighting the matter around them as ringing echoes through my ears.
All of a sudden, i feel an arm hooked around my waist. I'm pulled out of the pool and slapped onto the ground, my legs still dangling in the water. I turn and lean on my elbow as i spit water out of my lungs between coughs, my head throbbing. I draw in deep breaths of air as my vision spins, trying to dissolve the burning feeling in my chest. I rub at my eyes with my knuckles in an attempt to clear away the water, feeling like a complete idiot.
How could i have been stupid enough to think that this would have gone even a little well? Nothing like this ever works in my favor, so why should it this time?
"You could've killed him!" I hear someone shout, their voice dripping with fire. My hearing is clogged so badly that i wonder vaguely if i'm still under water. I force my eyes open, glancing at the other person beside me. Staring openly, my eyebrows pull together in confusion as he wrings out the bottom of his t-shirt in a weak attempt to dry it off a bit. My eyes travel down his sculpted body, my face turning bright red as i notice he's not wearing any pants. His shoes and socks are in a heap with his jeans, his hat topping the small pile like a cherry on top of a sundae. His dark hair clings to his forehead as water drips down his nose, his eyelashes clumped together. I didn't realize how close i am to him and i move away a bit. He shoots me a sideways glance and flips me off, coughing into the crook of his arm.
Craig Tucker.
He just saved my life?
Bebe kneels beside me, smoothing my soaking wet hair out of my eyes and handing me my thick black glasses. I jerk myself away in shock, my brain swirling at the rash movement. A wave of nausea washes over me and i swallow thickly, squeezing my eyes shut tightly.
"Are you okay?" She asks as i teeter. The earth tilts under my feet and i pitch backwards, grabbing at nothing as i steady myself. I must've hit my head pretty damn hard.
"Fine," I state quickly, already shoving past people to get away from them. A loud boom of laugher follows me out and i struggle to breathe, my chest tightening as i slide my glasses over my eyes.
Oh god.. Oh god what the fuck just happened? Why would Craig save me? Fuck, that guy is bipolar. I'm surprised at how panicked Bebe looked. To be perfectly honest i didn't know she cared about me that much. She probably just didn't want to deal with some weird dead kid floating in her parents' nice pool.
I rake my hands through my soaking wet hair, smoothing it out of my face. To push the embarrassment out of my mind, i wrap my arms around myself and focus on the wet slapping of my sneakers on the sidewalk. So much for trying to come out of my shell. That little escapade pretty much pushed me further down into the hole i've dug for myself.
When i get home my mother is lounging on her chair in the corner of the living room, leafing lazily through a Home Goods magazine. She doesn't even glance up when i come inside, my sneakers sloshing water into the house.
"So, how'd your party go, sweetie?" She asks, her voice quiet as her eyes scan her magazine. I swallow hard, wiping a stray bead of water from the side of my face.
"Good." I say, not wanting her to see me. I don't want to get into anything right now. "It was pretty fun, actually."
"Oh, well i'm glad you had a good time. You should do things like that more often." She says softly, a small smile spreading over her face. "I was just about to make tea. Would you like me to make you some, honey?" I can tell she doesn't want to hear much of anything. She's always been like that. She ignores the fact that i'm not a normal kid, and it has aggravated me my whole life.
I don't want to think about this now. I can already feel the remnants of panic from the party shooting through my brain, the clamping of nervousness around my ribs. It sucks. All i need now is something warm to drink and a hot shower.
"Uh, yeah, actually." I say, already heading towards the stairs. I could really use something to relax me a bit. My thoughts won't settle, especially with the welt that's growing over my forehead. "Thanks." My mother hums softly in response, waving her hand as she delicately turns the page in her magazine.
My mom knows how to make tea exactly how i like it. If anyone else makes it, i won't drink it. For numerous reasons. (What if someone puts something in it that makes me pass out or something? Tea makes me tired already, but I need all of my organs, man!) I jog up the stairs and step into my bathroom, taking a deep breath. My parents have their own master bathroom, so they let me have this one. My dad even cut out a door that connects it with my room for me, since i'm right next to it.
Closing the door behind me, i pull my soaking wet sweatshirt over my head, my arms getting tangled in the sleeves. I sigh angrily, yanking my arms away. I wince when i hit myself in the face, just now noticing how big the bruise is going to be. I trace the tender spot on my forehead; it extends from my left temple to the middle of my eyebrow. How the hell am i going to explain this?
God, this fucking sucks. And i have the early shift at work tomorrow; i've always hated opening. I feel like i'm going to do something wrong. Do you see why i hate parties? None of this would be happening if i had stayed home tonight.
I slap my hand against the dial to turn on the water, waiting for it to warm up a bit as i toss my dirty jeans in the hamper. I have to remember to do my laundry after i get out of the shower. I need some clean clothes for tomorrow. I don't trust anyone else to do my laundry, not even my parents. One time my mom accidentally turned one of my favorite shirts pink.
You can imagine how well that went down when i wore it to school.
Stepping into the warm water, i rake my hands through my hair, carefully avoiding my newly forming bruise. Squeezing some shampoo into the palm of my hand, i massage it slowly into my scalp and let my mind wander.
Why the fuck would Craig jump into a pool to keep me from drowning? I mean, i would be able to see why Bebe would, or even Clyde; I could see Bebe forcing Clyde in after me. But... Why Craig? It doesn't make any sense. Come to think of it, not a lot about him makes any sense. Not that i know an extensive amount of information about Craig Tucker; i'm really just going off the stuff i overhear in school.
He hangs out with Clyde and Token all the time. He was in the art club last year; i remember seeing him with the group, not to mention the fact that he carries a leather-bound sketchbook with him constantly. I didn't see it tonight, though. He comes into Harbucks from time to time with the book, and he usually orders something with caramel in it. I think he has two little sisters, but i can't remember their names at the moment. Last year he was in advanced science and honors english. I know that because i took science and english with him. I think Bebe was in his history class. I remember her saying something about him being either a total tool or completely silent, with no in between. Sounds about right.
I rake my hands through my hair to get out the conditioner, already pawing for my body wash so i can have my tea and read for a little while. I just want to forget this whole night ever even happened. I love to read. It's the only thing i can really focus on, plus it's so much fun. Reading helps me forget about my own problems for a little while, so i can worry about someone else's.
Shaking my hair out with a clean towel, i dry myself off and change into some comfy sweatpants and an old t-shirt. Sighing and rubbing my eyes, i rummage through the medicine cabinet above the bathroom sink before finding the pain medication. After tipping back two pills and a gulp of water, i stare at my reflection in the mirror for a moment, bored. Wow, i look exhausted; and that takes a hell of a lot to actually accomplish. Right. When i get into my room i step into some slippers, noticing that my mom left my cup of tea on my nightstand for me. A small smile picks up the corners of my lips and i wrap my thin fingers around the mug, reveling in the warmth as i crawl into my bed.
Okay, this is marginally better than i thought the night would turn out to be. At least i have all of my body parts.
"So, why'd you jump in? Felt like going for a swim?" Token jokes as he closes the drivers side door and clicks his seatbelt into place. Craig flips him off, rolling his eyes as his fingers tighten around his old blue hat. The raven had decided to leave the party early just a few minutes after Tweek had; no one likes wet boxers paired with dry jeans. Token drove and he didn't feel like walking, so he caught a ride. Craig shrugs, leaning his elbow on the door.
"Dunno." He answers flatly, leaning his cheek on his knuckles. Token raises an eyebrow at him as he pulls away from the curb. He really doesn't know, in truth. He just kind of... did it. There wasn't much forethought put into plunging into the water after Tweek. "Its not like anyone else was jumping at the chance." A crooked smile creeps onto Craig's lip and he shares a laugh with himself, chuckling at his own joke. Token's eyes roll.
"I'm sure someone would have gone in, other than you," Token comments, fiddling with the radio as he turns onto Craig's street.
"I don't really think they would have, dude." Craig confesses, looking over at his friend. "I mean, the guy is a hermit. Its not like anyone would miss him."
"Whoa, dude. Dark."
"I'm just saying! Think about it!" Craig says, widening his eyes at Token and holding his hands up in defense. After a moment of consideration, Token shrugs and sighs.
"I guess you're right. Does he have any friends?" Token asks as he turns into Craig's driveway, narrowly avoiding the trash cans that Mr. Tucker had just pulled out to the street for morning pickup.
"I don't think so."
"I don't know much about him. I don't think anyone knows much about him. Do you even remember his real name?" Craig shakes his head in response, pushing through his door. He didn't think Tweek had another name. He's never really given it much thought. Everyone calls him that; his classmates, his parents, his teachers. The whole damn town calls him that. He's only ever always been Tweek.
"Okay, we'll gossip about this later." Craig says in a mocking tone, a smug look on his face as he pops his head back into the car. "Now I'm curious about this asshole. Thanks for the ride."
"Mmhm." Token hums, waving his hand with a small smirk. "Get out of my car, i'm fucking tired."
"Yeah, yeah, old man. Get home so you can take your medicine and catch the news."
"Fuck you,"
"You wish." Craig says, slamming the door shut and turning on his heel to walk up to his house. He stretches and yawns as he walks inside, kicking his shoes away. He lets himself wonder what would have happened if he hadn't jumped in after Tweek. Would the kid have drowned? Maybe he really doesn't have any friends.
Something inside Craig keeps telling him that he needs to be the one to change that.