I sat in class, bored out of my mind. The teacher was rambling on about something I'd never understand. The words only mixed up into alphabet soup in my brain, becoming meaningless to me. My brain would inevitably trail off into daydreaming.
I looked over and saw one of my best friends, Kenny McCormick. He seemed to be paying attention, or at least trying to. Leaned over his notebook, his blond hair fell onto his face as he jotted down the words the teacher was saying. He looked intently focused on making sure he had everything written down. I compared myself to him, how he was always so motivated in everything. How he always tried his best whether or not he succeeded. How I almost never did the same, the only thing I cared about was football, and even that was slipping through my fingers. With a sigh, I slumped down into my seat.
I stared at Kenny, admiring his features. His messy, yellow hair that fell over his face, covering wide, blue eyes. His straight, upturned nose. His small lips that were almost always curled into a slight smile. How he scrunched up his nose and furrowed his eyebrows when he was super concentrated. The slight blush that spread across his cheeks when he looked up and noticed me staring at him. I blinked and smiled, looking away. I felt my own face heat up a bit. I put my head down and dozed off, occasionally waking up when the teacher would raise her voice or when someone near me started talking.
"Kyle?"
I woke up and questioned where I was for a moment. I then snapped back to reality to realize that the teacher had called on me. I wasn't paying attention. I had been asleep.
"Um, what was the question again?" I asked awkwardly. The class all laughed at me. I sunk down into my seat in embarrassment, my face turning red yet again. With my pale skin, my face would easily turn as red as my hair.
My teacher sighed. "Never mind. Everyone can pack up, class is almost over. Kyle, see me after class." I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and packed up as everyone else did.
The class quickly gathered their things and ran out, going home for the weekend. I, on the other hand, had football practice, as I usually do every day. I almost left the classroom before remembering that I had to see the teacher after class. This time, I really did roll my eyes.
Everyone was gone by the time I made it to the teacher's desk where she sat. She was organizing some papers on her desk, so I just stood there and waited for her to address me first. I gazed around her messy desk. Papers were loose everywhere. I didn't see how she knew where anything was.
She looked up at me. "Kyle." She said finally.
"Mrs. Robinson." I addressed her formally, faking cheeriness. I think it was obvious that I was faking it. She sighed.
"Kyle, what's going on with you?" She asked me, standing up. She circled around her desk and stood in front of me. She was significantly shorter than me. Her black hair was pinned back in a low ponytail and her brown eyes stared up at me like daggers. I looked away and shrugged.
"Stop that." She said.
"What." I replied monotonously. I still didn't - couldn't - look her in the eye. Mrs. Robinson and I went back a long time. She was friends with my mom, so I'd known her since I was just a little kid. She'd watched me grow up, and she knew when something was wrong.
"Avoiding me and avoiding the questions I'm asking you." She said sternly. I forced myself to meet her eyes. To my surprise, they had softened considerably since the last time I looked at them. Her voice was softer too, "What's going on with you?" She asked me again. I wasn't sure what to say. To be honest, I didn't feel much different than usual. But I knew that lately, things around me seemed to be falling apart. I couldn't pay attention in class, I was missing football practice - something very uncharacteristic of me, which was another reason why it was concerning people. I was acting different, even if I truly didn't feel much different. I just shrugged. She narrowed her eyes at me.
"Kyle, I care about you. You know that." She said. My gaze had traveled to the floor, where I just stared at our shoes. I nodded. "I'm worried about you. You seem -" She searched for the right word and sighed when she couldn't find it. "- I don't know, upset. Like something's off with you." I tightened my jaw. I could feel myself getting frustrated. Whenever I got frustrated, I had a tendency to say things that I'd regret later. I closed my eyes and breathed.
She smiled at me sadly, pulling me into a hug. "I can tell you don't know what to say," She whispered. "It's okay. Just know that if ever you need to talk, I'm here. For any reason. OK?" I nodded and hugged her back. Soon I pulled away, muttering something about how I have football practice and I'm going to be late. She apologized and sent me on my way.
I picked up my things and began walking out of the classroom, keeping my head down. I pulled on my green hat that I almost always wear. There was no one around. I felt like punching the wall, but I knew that would draw attention if there was anyone on the other side of the wall that I was assaulting. Plus, I had football practice and I couldn't really afford to screw up my hand, especially since I'd been missing practice lately. The thought made me even more frustrated with myself but I just clenched my fists, tightened my jaw, and kept walking.
"Kyle!" I heard a familiar, cheerful voice call my name. I stopped walking and turned around. I saw Kenny running towards me. His hood was down but he still wore his orange parka that he seemingly never took off. It was autumn, but still too warm for a jacket as big as his. "Let's walk to practice together!" He suggested.
"Why aren't you in practice already?" I asked him. Practice started right after school and I had been talking to Mrs. Robinson. Now both of us would be late.
"I was waiting for you.." He admitted, laughing. "I thought you'd come out of the other door, and when you didn't come I just decided to leave. But here you are!" He chuckled.
"Oh yeah." I said. "Sorry." I looked away.
"It's cool!" He said, hitting me lightly on the shoulder as we kept walking.
Kenny kept trying to have a conversation with me, but I didn't feel like talking. Everything he said I dismissed with a word or two, and I just shrugged in response to most questions.
"You're acting weird." Kenny pointed out. We stopped walking and he stood in front of me, looking at me straight in the eyes with his own icy blue ones. His eyes were crazy beautiful when you got this close to him. It felt like they'd hypnotize me. "What's wrong with you?" He asked gently. His voice was clear and soft when he spoke to me. It made me want to close my eyes and fall asleep, it comforted me.
I shrugged for the millionth time that day. "Liar." He said. "There's totally something wrong."
"Nothing." I said, getting slightly annoyed.
"No," He said. "Something's wrong! I can tell!" This was another characteristic of Kenny's I admired. He always knew when something was off and was always worried about making sure you're feeling okay. It annoyed me, yeah, but I couldn't help but appreciate that he worried about me.
"There's nothing wrong." I replied uncomfortably. "I'm just tired." The classic excuse.
"Hmm.. well okay." He said skeptically. Clearly he was worried. I felt guilty for making him worry. I felt like I was taking advantage of his friendship. "You'd better get enough sleep tonight then!" I nodded and faked a smile. I was glad he let the subject go. We kept walking. He continued to try and initiate a conversation and I continued avoiding it.
Football practice was strange too. I kept messing up. I couldn't focus. Halfway through practice, I excused myself and sat on the bench for the rest of the time. After practice was over, my best friend approached me. Stan Marsh, the star quarterback of the football team and arguably the most popular kid in school. I wondered in the back of my mind why he was still friends with me. I was a loser, I wasn't popular like him, and now I wasn't even good at football anymore. But he still made time for me, between his girlfriend and all his friends and football and whatever else popular people do, he always made sure to ask me to hang out every once in awhile. I appreciated him for that.
He ran from the field up to me, taking off his helmet. Sweat plastered his black hair to his forehead and he pushed it back with his hand. "You're off your game today, Kyle." He said to me, taking a seat on the bench next to me. "You alright?" He met my eyes and I could see that he was worried. Great, I thought. Another reason to feel bad about making people worry for me.
"Yeah." I said. It was obviously a lie. I wished that I was good at lying so people could just stop bothering me about it.
"What's wrong?" Stan asked. We walked back into the locker rooms where no one was around, everyone was talking out in the gym. He had opened his locker and was putting stuff away while I leaned back on a bench not too far away. He started to get changed and I avoided looking at him. The air felt a bit awkward.
"There's nothing wrong." I lied again, getting a little annoyed. Again. "I'm just tired. I didn't get much sleep last night. I had to study." I lied. Well, it wasn't a complete lie. I was tired, but it wasn't because I was studying. I just wasn't sleeping. I couldn't. No matter how hard I tried or how much I wanted to.
"Oh. Are you sure?" Stan said. Why was he so worried about me?! I get that he's my best friend and all but seriously, he needs to back off. I clearly didn't want to talk about it. I was getting really annoyed and frustrated at this point. "You really don't look tired. What test were you even studying for? Dude, did I miss a test? I can't afford to bomb a test."
"I'm just tired, okay?!" I said loudly, practically yelling. I immediately regretted raising my voice at him. Stan stepped back. I put my head down, muttered out a sorry and walked to the door of the locker room. Everyone noticed that I was leaving. I grabbed my bag and walked out, keeping my head down in shame.
"What's up with him?" I heard Eric Cartman say with a chuckle as I left. I tightened my jaw. Everything he says pisses me off. I wanted to roundhouse kick him into the void. I walked out the door and sped down the sidewalk, trying to hold back tears. I embarrassed myself again.
Silently cursing myself, I went around a corner and slumped down onto the cold concrete. It was about 8 o'clock, and it was completely dark except for the small bit of light that crept around the corner from the streetlight down the road. I pulled off my hat and threw it on the ground next to me with the rest of my stuff.
What is wrong with me... I slumped my head down into my knees, pulling them towards me.
I heard footsteps running on the concrete. The footsteps slowed down as they got closer to the corner I sat behind.
The shadow cast by the streetlight crept around the corner before a silhouette of someone followed.
"Kyle?"
I sighed, already knowing who it was by only hearing his clear voice. Kenny emerged from the darkness and walked closer to me. I scooted over on the concrete to make room for him. He sat down and we sat in silence for a while. I didn't look at him.
"Seriously, what's wrong?" He asked me quietly, as if he was afraid to find out. His voice was timid. I finally brought myself to look at him. It was dark. The darkness washed out everything except for his bright eyes. Nothing could dim his eyes.
I cleared my throat. "I don't- I don't know." I finally told the truth. "I really don't know." I said. My eyes stung as tears welled up in them. I blinked them away and hoped that it was too dark for Kenny to notice. I thought about how Kenny was the one to come after me. If anyone, I would have expected Stan. I appreciated Kenny for it. I wanted to hug him.
He stayed silent for a moment. "I'm sorry, Kyle." He said. He pulled me into a hug, as if reading my mind. We stayed like that for a while. I started crying. I tried to stop it but I couldn't. Soon my breaths turned into pants and Kenny was rubbing my back to comfort me.
I felt like an idiot. "I'm sorry." I said between sobs. "I feel stupid." I admitted. Kenny didn't say anything, he just pulled me in closer. His hands had traveled up my back and were intertwined in my hair. Kenny had always liked my curly, red hair, even if I hated it, and I wasn't complaining because it definitely comforted me to have his hands in my hair. His voice comforted me, his touch comforted me.
Kenny was a touchy guy. He was always hugging people and he had a reputation for being a "slut." It wasn't entirely true. Kenny had had a considerable amount of girlfriends, and was definitely not a virgin but he wasn't a slut. It was a stupid rumor that went around and eventually that was his reputation. He didn't seem to mind it for the most part but he sometimes complained that girls avoided him because of it or that it attracted the wrong kind of attention.
"I'm sorry." I repeated a couple minutes later, after I had calmed down. My breaths were still uneven, but I felt a hundred times better after crying.
"Stop saying sorry." He said.
"Okay." I said.
He pulled back from the hug and we looked at each other in the eye in silence for a moment before laughing. I laughed, for the genuine first time in a couple of weeks. It felt amazing. We just laughed at nothing for a good 10 minutes. There were tears in our eyes when we had finally calmed down.
"Thank you." I said. He smiled, showing off a missing tooth.
"Your tooth!" I said, pointing to his mouth. He laughed and explained that he had been skateboarding when he tripped and hit a pole. I cringed imagining it, but it didn't surprise me. Kenny was always covered in bruises and wounds from getting himself into trouble. I was surprised that he was still alive. When we were little kids I used to think he had nine lives or something, like a cat. I laughed, looking back on my childhood naiveté.
Kenny stood up and extended a hand, offering to help me up. I took it and he pulled me to my feet. I brushed off my pants and wiped my face.
"Sorry for crying all over your jacket." I said.
"I told you to stop saying sorry." Kenny said with a laugh. I chuckled.
"Sorry." Kenny punched me jokingly on the shoulder.
"Make it up to me by washing my jacket." Kenny said as we walked in the general direction of our houses. Kenny's family was poor. Kenny had to get a job when we were 16 to help support his family. His dad was an alcoholic wife beater and his mom was trying to take care of three kids while dealing with an abusive husband. I felt terrible for them. I knew they didn't have a washing machine and the only laundromat was in the next town over.
"Alright." I agreed. "You wanna come over this weekend? You can wash your jacket at my house." I offered.
"Hell yeah." Kenny agreed. I wondered if we should stop at his house to get clothes for him but I knew he probably wouldn't want me to see his house and family. And he always wears the same thing anyways. I always had clothes he could borrow, since we were the same size.
We talked about anything while walking back to my house. Eventually, my phone rang. A glance at the screen - it was Stan. I hesitated to pick it up but I knew I was obligated to. After what happened in the locker room after practice, I couldn't just ignore him. I didn't want him to think I was mad at him or anything. I sighed and brought my phone to my ear.
"Hello?" I said timidly.
"Dude." Stan said.
"What?" I asked, playing dumb. It was pretty obvious what but I said it anyways just to stall having to explain myself.
"What do you mean 'what?'" Stan's voice was muffled on the other end of the line. I shrugged and when I realized that Stan couldn't see me, I said I didn't know. Kenny laughed at me and I chuckled with him.
I could almost hear Stan rolling his eyes. "I promised Wendy I'd hang out with her this weekend," he said. "But on Monday you're going to tell me everything that's going on with you! I feel bad about what happened at practice, dude." I looked at Kenny. He was watching me but he couldn't hear Stan on the other line. I smiled at him.
"Alright. I'm sorry." I said to Stan. Kenny and I were almost at my house. "I've got to get going. Talk to you later bro."
"It's alright, see ya." Stan said before hanging up. I sighed and put my phone back in my pocket. The air was getting colder and the warmth of the inside of my pockets felt good on my cold hands.
"Stan, I'm guessing?" Kenny said. A puff of cold air circled around him.
"Yep." I confirmed with a sigh. I could see my breath too. "He keeps pestering me about what's wrong. I got sorta mad at him about it after practice and he feels bad. I feel bad too. I just wish I had a valid answer for what's wrong with me." I closed my eyes and hung my head down for a second before lifting it back up and opening my eyes again.
Kenny nodded. "I know how you feel. We all have times like that though, don't we?" He said with a smile. I thought back to a couple years ago when Kenny's father became a heavy alcoholic and Kenny was almost never around. I remembered when he came back and almost never spoke, kept his hood up and his head down all the time. It's amazing how far he's come since then, but I can't help but to wonder why. His father is an even heavier drinker now and his family struggles more than ever. I smiled back sadly. He seemed to notice but ignored it.
We were at my house finally. I opened the door and held it open for Kenny. My mother was in the kitchen. She saw me and greeted me with a hug and kiss, and also greeted Kenny with a hug. "Hello boys!" She said to us. My mom was nice, generally. Sometimes she could be a bit irrational and overprotective but deep down I knew it was all out of love.
"Hey mom." I said, smiling. "Kenny's gonna stay over this weekend, alright?" She was cleaning the kitchen after dinner. Dinner had been left over for me on the counter. This was normal, since I had football practice pretty much every day during the week.I figured that my father and brother had disappeared upstairs as they usually do.
My mom nodded. "Yes that's fine." She said, scrubbing the stove top. "Did you boys eat? There's food left over."
"We haven't eaten." I glanced at Kenny. He stood behind me and looked slightly uncomfortable. I wondered what was wrong with him. I looked back at my mom as she set out food for both of us. "We'll eat in my room." I said. "We've got homework to do."
"Alright, Kyle." my mom said, dismissing us. We grabbed the food that had been set out for us and walked upstairs to my bedroom. I said hi to my dad and brother as I passed their rooms and Kenny and I entered my room. I set my stuff down, plopped onto my bed and sighed unnecessarily loudly.
Kenny dropped his stuff and plopped down next to me, imitating my sigh. We laughed and got up. Kenny took off his parka and handed it to me. Underneath, he wore a plain white t-shirt, which I assumed he wore at practice.
"I can just wash all your clothes while I'm at it." I said. I walked to my dresser and pulled out a pair of shorts and a grey t-shirt and tossed them to him. "You can wear those."
"Thanks, man!" Kenny said as he immediately stripped off his clothes. I wasn't surprised that he'd take off his clothes so willingly. He'd always been that way, and he still kept on his boxers. I picked up his t-shirt and brown pants that he'd taken off and brought them along with the parka downstairs to the washing machine. By habit, I checked Kenny's pockets to make sure there wasn't anything that'd get destroyed in the wash.
In his right pants pocket, I pulled out a piece of folded up paper. I almost opened it, but I decided not to. That'd be a breach of his privacy. I put his stuff in the washer and went back upstairs.
"This was in your pocket." I said, handing the paper to him. He took it from me and stared at it for a second before looking up at me.
"Did, uh- Did you look at it?" He asked with a strange tone in his voice.
"No," I said. "I promise." We laughed and he stuck the paper in the side pocket of his backpack. After eating and working on homework together for an hour, it was already 10:15pm.
"Let's watch a movie." Kenny suggested out of the blue. I looked up from the math homework I had been struggling with for the past hour. "I'm getting tired of this math bullshit." I laughed and agreed. We picked out a horror movie, the Ouija Experiment.
Kenny was a pretty tough guy, inside and out. I was only tough on the outside. The entire time I shook with fear and cried when there was any sort of jump scare. Kenny thought it was hilarious. I punched him jokingly for laughing at me and then went straight back to hiding under my covers.
By the end of the movie, I was jumpy and afraid of everything. Every tiny noise made me jump and I was scared to not have my back facing the wall. Kenny comforted me, but I still knew I wouldn't be sleeping any time soon.
"That was a horrible idea, to watch a horror movie." I said. I was sitting in the corner of my bed with my back and left side to the walls, since my bed was in the corner of my room. Kenny chuckled and sat down next to me. He took my hand in his.
"Don't worry, my princess! I will protect you!" He declared dramatically. I snatched my hand away and punched him, laughing.
"Shut up!" I said. I got up and tackled him. He wasn't expecting it, so it was easy to take him down. He looked up at me. I had his arms pinned down, straddling his hips. He laughed. We stared at each other for a couple seconds. His icy blue eyes peered into my soul, even in the darkness. The stark contrast of his black pupils against the beaming light blue was astounding. He pushed me off of him and flipped over, so now he was pinning me down.
We both laughed, before he relaxed and fell on top of me. His head rested on my chest. I ran my fingers through his soft blond hair and began to doze off. I noticed that he had already fallen asleep. I repressed a chuckle as to avoid waking him up. Soon enough, I was also taken by sleep.