I trudge through the dirty snow, glaring at the ground in front of me, while Clyde prattles on about some class he's in being too difficult or some shit.

"And she's just been blowing through it as if we've all seen this shit before!"

"You took precalc in high school Clyde. You have seen it all before," Craig drones back at him, gaining a chuckle from Token.

"Well ya, but some of the other students haven't! And like that's the real messed up part. Like it's not fair to them that she's just assuming they know all this logarithm bullshit."

"Wait do you know of other students who are doing bad?" Token asks, genuinely curious.

Clyde pauses long enough for all of us to gather that, no he doesn't know anyone else doing bad. "I mean not exactly, but like I'm sure they are!" No one answers this, which naturally leads to Clyde getting irritated. "And what do you mean by other students Token, huh? I'm not doing bad ok. It's normal to get C's in the weed out classes in college ok? I'm just saying she's making it like, intentionally harder for no reason." He kicks at some ice with his boot in frustration.

"Precalc is a weed out class? That's so strange since most everyone I talked to went straight into calculus," I reply in mock surprise, earning a snort from Craig and a deep laugh from Token.

"Fuck you Tweek. Actually, fuck all of you, alright? Like the other business classes are really hard too ok Tweek. I don't have time for these bullshit useless math classes like you guys do."

Craig jokes back, "oh ya I'm sure thermodynamics or astrophysics or whatever the shit Tweek is taking is way easier than your Intro to Business Communications class Clyde."

"Fuck off Tweek's not in those classes." He pauses for a second. "Wait Tweek you're not right?"

"I'm actually in thermodynamical astrophysics," I reply back with a straight face.

Craig and Token snicker at this. "Ok well I can tell that's not a real class by you guys laughing so I'm not as dumb or gullible as you guys seem to think after all."

"Nothing gets past you," Token says in mock defeat. "Anyways I'm going to my dorm. I'll catch up with you guys later."

"Can I come?" Clyde asks excitedly.

Token rolls his eyes. "Ya sure, whatever. I'll see you guys," Token directs at Craig and me, as he starts to shuffle down a different path, Clyde on his heals chattering about how they can play Super Smash Brothers at his place.

Token dorms. Clyde got an apartment with Cartman and Butters. Or more like Cartman duped Butters and Clyde into subsidizing his rent, though of course Clyde thinks it's "freakin sweet" and that they're going to totally "throw mad ragers" there. Craig and I still live with our parents to save money, which seems like the obvious choice since the campus is only a 30 minute drive from South Park, but Token's rich and Clyde's a moron so I'm not surprised. Craig and I carpool together on the days we have classes on the same days. I drive myself on Tuesdays. On Thursday I take the bus or get a ride from Bebe since my mom needs the car. My mom actually arranged with Bebe's mom to have Bebe drive me in. Ya, evidentially my mom thinks I'm 12 and can't ask someone for a ride without her help.

It's Monday which means it was Craig's turn to drive us in. We continue trudging through the snow, towards the commuter parking lot. Craig's swinging his keys around and humming to himself.

"Did you want to come over today?" Ya Craig, after a long day in class and a 30 minute drive home in your beater car, listening to the static you claim is the radio and your muffler which clearly needs to be replaced, feeling every bump in the road perfectly since you won't fucking get the shocks looked at, ya after all that I want to come by your place and hear your family yelling at each other constantly since they've apparently not been made aware of just ya know, going to the room the person you'd like to speak to is in and talking like a normal human being, as opposed to shouting at the top of their lungs. Like we have cellphones even. Go on and be lazy and call or text each other at least. Like screaming from three rooms away is not a valid form of communication.

"Why don't we go to my place? It's easier to do homework there."

"Cool," he replies, "but we got to stop by my place and check on Stripe first."

"No problem."

We get to Craig's car and he unlocks his door and reaches across to unlock the passenger side door. He throws his bag in the back and I put mine at my feet and clutch my thermos. God it is fucking cold out. He starts the car and the beat muffler protests and freezing air comes blasting out the vents. I lean forward to turn the vents off until the car heats up enough for the heat to kick in. Craig rubs his hands together, presumably waiting to get going until after the car warms up a bit.

I knock his car a lot, but honestly I'd love to have my own car. My mom let's me take hers often, but it's not like mine. I have to ask permission to use it, and as a result we end up in Craig's beater more often than not.

Craig slams his front door behind us and immediately his mom starts yelling from upstairs.

"Craig?! Is that you?"

"Ya ma! Just stopping by to check on Stripe!"

"What?"

"I said I'm here to CHECK ON STRIPE."

"Oh ok dear! How was school?" I stomp the extra snow off my boots and begin to slip out of my jacket. It still baffles me that this is just regular communication for the Tuckers.

"You're not staying?" Ruby chimes in from the opposite side of the house.

"What?" Craig's mom bellows back. "Did you say something Craig?"

"No it was me mom!"

"Craig dear you're going to have to speak louder I can't understand you!"

I was skeptical Ruby could be any louder, but always one to impress, Rubes screamed, "MOM IT'S ME TALKING!" So now my ears are ringing, which, bright side means I'm losing some of my hearing and maybe one day won't even be bothered by all this shouting. Meanwhile, Craig is completely unfazed, and seems to be in fact rolling his shoulders back in preparation to really speak up on this one, as if perhaps he's worried he'd been mumbling too softly before. Seeing this and the alarming proximity of my ear to his mouth, I grab his arm and shove him towards the stair well.

This thankfully catches him off guard for a moment and stops him from yelling. He is however now staring at me questioningly. "You don't want to yell too loud near Stripe's cage. Guinea pigs have sensitive ears."

"They do?" He looks alarmed. I mean, I don't know. Probably they have sensitive ears right? I never really thought about it. I kind of just speak without thinking sometimes. Or like oftentimes. All the times. Fuck off ok I have ADHD. I have poor impulse control!

"Um," I begin eloquently. I look down at my feet and notice Craig's boots are still on and the snow on them is melting into the carpet. "I um, I don't know actually. I don't know why I said that. Ya. But! You should take your boots off. They're making a whole damp spot in the carpet. You ever step on a wet spot with just socks on? It's the worst. And it's like now you have to change them or walk around with wet sock for what feels like the rest of your life. Ya know?"

He rolls his eyes at me, but steps out of his boots and up the stairs. I follow, but then double back to put his boots in the shoe area. On my way back towards the stairs I'm careful to avoid the wet spot, but didn't consider that his path to said spot was also left damp. And now I have wet sock and want to kill myself.

I bound up the stairs two at a time and throw myself on Craig's bed. I look over at Craig kneeling in front of Stripe's cage while peeling off the aforementioned wet sock. "I'm going to steal a sock."

He ignores me. "So to clarify, you don't actually know anything about guinea pig noise sensitivity?"

"Well, come on anything? I mean, I like to think I know some things. Like I know he hears noises and so, like some noises must bother him right?"

Craig giggles at this and comes to sit on the bed with me, Stripe in hand. "You can just say that you're the one bothered by loud noises."

"Well that'd be a silly thing to say seeing as I wasn't bothered by the noise, and Stripe was. Or probably was. Since we established he's got sensitive ears most likely." I grin at him.

"You're a dork."

"It's pronounced 'dick' Craig. Jesus I can't believe you've been saying it incorrectly like that this whole time. How embarrassing." He giggles again. "You laugh like a girl."

"That's funny because everyone thinks you're the girl in the relationship," he says in his nasally tone while beaming at me.

"I'm going to tell your mom you called me a girl as an insult."

"Good. It will be a good time for me to tell her what you think of her nativity scene. How did you put it again? That she 'really pussied out not getting any fake snow'?"

"Ok not fair! I thought it was a Christmas village set up. I didn't know it was a Jesus thing. And that was like four years ago."

"That was literally last weekend."

"Really? It feels like four years ago. I guess it's that expression people are aways saying, ya know? Time really does slow down to a grueling halt when you're having fun."

"No one says that."

"Oh no you're right I messed it up. It's that every moment will feel like an eternity in hell when you're with Craig Tucker. You haven't heard that?" He pretends to glare back at me. "Actually now that I give it some thought, people probably don't say it around you since it's about you and all." I suck air through my teeth and look away. "Awkward."

"Hm, well maybe I'll just stay here then if you hate my company so much."

"Good call. You could probably find some cotton balls to give that downer of a Christmas village some snow while you're here too. And I don't want to step on any toes, but like who's idea was it to have a manger in their Christmas village anyways?" He gives me the finger. "Ooph, the manger was your idea wasn't it honey?"

"Don't call me honey," he warns. I clutch my heart in mock agony. "What's up with you today?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Like you're always a spaz, but you're like extra today."

I roll off the bed and hop onto my feet. I take a few long strides towards the door. "I should visit with Rubes. Like while I'm here and all."

"Tweek." I look up in acknowledgment, but my hands still going towards the doorknob.

"Tweek, don't walk out while I'm talking to you. You're being exceptionally hyperactive and impulsive. You didn't take your medication, did you?"

"I took the Fluxo-whatever crap last night. But no I didn't take the morning stuff this morning."

"The morning stuff's for ADHD right? And the nighttime is for OCD?"

"Ya, so I took the OCD stuff."

"Why didn't you take the ADHD stuff?"

I let out an exaggerated sigh. "Like the OCD's the big issue. I don't see why I have to take the other stuff every day."

"Because your doctor told you to. And you agreed it was probably for the best ever since you got arrested," he drones back in his uninterested monotone.

"Well I can change my mind," I retort back.

Aw, now Craig looks annoyed. "Do whatever you want Tweek. You're the one that said you don't like how you are when you're off it. You said that impulse decisions aren't you're own decisions and the medication makes you feel like you're finally in control of your choices. You're the one that told me how tiring it is to feel all hyper and twitchy or whatever. Do whatever the fuck you want. I was just asking."

"I'm sorry. And you're right. I don't like it. Even just sitting in your room is making me feel caged or something. Like I need to run around in circles or start a band or do a back flip. It's like everything is boring and too slow and my mind is going too fast to do anything of use. I don't know." I come back to sit cross-legged on the bed facing him. "It's like a part of me wants to just be better on my own. And it feels like I can. Like after three days on the meds, it's like I totally forget what it was like to live without them. And I just feel like ok, I can stop now. There was never anything wrong with me. But then I do stop and I remember that there is. And it's annoying. And the reason I can't seem to ever learn that lesson is the same reason I'm on the meds in the first place. Severe fucking ADHD and the spotty working memory that comes with it, and it just," I can feel myself getting emotional. No, no, no. "It just," I croak out, "it makes me feel like such a failure. Like I'm being treated and I'm on the medication, but it's still there and it's just never going away."

"What's never going away?"

"The racing mind! Feeling like I always have to be physically moving. The inability to remember just the most basic details of conversations. The stupid and embarrassing impulsive shit I do without even thinking. The insomnia. The obsessions and compulsions. Like it's all so fucking tiring and I'm supposed to sit here and be hopeful about it, but it's not going away and I'm not even sad about that really! I'm just fucking tired. Like why do I have to do this every day."

"Do what? Take your medication?"

"No! I don't mind that to be honest much. I just forget I need it and then it's like embarrassing to say that."

"Then what don't you want to do every day?" I stare at him. Shit. I have literally no idea what I was talking about. Every day? What don't I like to do every day? Did I say I didn't like taking the medication every day? Why would I say that? "You said people want you to stay hopeful and you're not sad, but you're tired and you don't get why you have to do this every day. Do what every day?"

"Oh right! Exist. Why do I have to exist like every day for the foreseeable future."

"What like you want to die?"

"Not really, no. I just find existing like it's such a thing. It's this whole hassle and it's every day and I don't really get why we're doing it at all."

"So like you're a nihilist?"

I make a face. "Gay. I'm not like insisting there's no point to anything. I'm just not sure what it is if there is one. I mean, I sort of hope there is no point. That'd be another whole fucking ordeal if there is a point, ya know?"

"Ya that makes sense."

"I like to think it all ends when we die. Or like we at least catch a break before the next thing."

"When you die you stop existing."

I laugh. "I like how you say that like as if you have anyway to definitively know that."

"There's no proof that there's a god or an afterlife."

"That doesn't mean there isn't something. And like I said, I sort of hope there isn't anything. But there could be. Like I don't know."

"I don't think anything happens. It doesn't make any logical sense."

"That's hilarious coming from the kid that tries to prove mathematical statements with examples. You know an example isn't a proof Craig."

"What does that have to do with an afterlife?"

"Like you tried to argue that there was some ambiguity over the order of operations. Basic arithmetic isn't a feeling Craig, it follows a logical order. You being unable to grasp it doesn't mean it doesn't exist. If we can't grasp what happens to our existence after we die, then the logical thing is to say that we don't know."

He rolls his eyes at me. "You're just trying to start an argument now because you're bored because you didn't take your medication."

"Solid point." It is. I am bored and that's definitely why I'm trying to have this stupid off-tangent argument. I'm a little disappointed he didn't dispute that last claim I made, as I planned on using it as a a segway into my theory that we reincarnate into all the different animals in the universe. Like including alien animals and stuff. Except that some people choose to wait to reincarnate so their spirits can lurk around for a bit. I mean, I still hope we just die for real when we die. Like eternal existence sounds awful. But being a bunch of alien animals and alien animal ghosts would be like my next top choice. "You want to go to my place now."

"Yup!" He grins and stands up. "You're such a handful," he says jokingly as he approaches me. He leans toward me on his way to the door and pecks me on the cheek. He keeps walking right out the door in front of me and he's continuing to talk as if he didn't just kiss my face. "Did you want to get food on the way?" Like does he not know he just kissed my face? "I haven't eaten like all day." This is insane. He's just strolling down the stairs like nothing happened! "What are you in the mood for? Want like Chinese? We can have that delivered even."

I stare after him in silence for a moment, but the cheapskate in me can't just let that last suggestion slide without comment. "Um, uh delivery fees. It's a waste of money."

He laughs. "I know, I know. 'That's how they get you, Craig!' But it's really not a big deal to me. I'll pay it. What do you want? Tofu something? Are you just going to stand in my doorway?"

By now he's stopped about halfway down the staircase to wait for me. "Ya, ya, um sorry! I'm coming." I shuffle after him while staring at the floor.

"Dude you good? Here call in the order for us and we can stop on the way to your place then. I mean I still don't think delivery fees are a scam, but if it gives you peace of mind, then we'll pick it up."

He thinks this is about a delivery fee? Jesus Christ. Ok if he's playing it cool like nothing happened, then so will I. "Cool, cool."

"Nice." He pumps his fist in the air. He makes direct eye contact. "And honey," he winks and continues on, "dinner's on me tonight." I'm staring after him in shock, but he's already looking the other way, putting his boots on. It's my thing to call him honey and it's supposed to bother him. He's not supposed to reciprocate and look into my fucking eyes. And wink. What the shit was that?! And I'm not supposed to like him doing that, am I?

What the fuck is going on.