Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or any of the following characters.

Chapter 1

In the ghetto of South Park—as Cartman referred to it—Kenny had woken up late, and was hurriedly searching through a pile of clothes for a t-shirt that didn't reek of B.O.. He shrugged when he finally stumbled upon one that smelled relatively clean. Unfortunately, it had a stain, but he figured that didn't matter very much, since his signature, orange hoodie would be zipped up over it. Slipping into a pair of ripped jeans, he surveyed himself in the mirror. His dirty-blonde hair was messy from sleep and greasy from not being washed in days, but he still looked unsurprisingly decent. He smelled kind of ripe, though, so he rolled on some deodorant and sprayed himself with subtle cologne.

Despite having overslept, Kenny made it to the bus stop on time; Kyle and Cartman, already arguing by the time he arrived; Stan, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing exasperatedly; trying and failing to tune them out. Lighting a half-smoked cigarette he'd been saving, Kenny suddenly wondered why he'd gotten out of bed today; he should've decided to skip. Maybe he was just tired, but he had a feeling it was going to be a long day, and he wasn't really looking forward to it.

Stan and Kyle sat together on the bus, and Cartman made Butters push over for his fat ass, so Kenny decided to sit with DogPoo, since he was one of the few people left sitting alone. Sitting next to him helped Kenny feel less self-conscious anyway. DogPoo's fingernails were dirty, his hair was greasy and disheveled, he had grass-stains on his jeans, and he smelled... well, like dog poo.
Kenny mostly played his ancient PSP the whole way to school. The bus was quiet, except for some girls giggling in the back. People were usually pretty tired in the mornings; it was always louder on the way home.

Token pulled into the school parking lot in his Rolls Royce, discussing plans for his upcoming party, which Clyde—as he was unbuckling his seat belt—declared was going to be the 'best party ever.'
"You say that every time Token throws a party," Craig pointed out flatly, stepping out from the backseat, where he and Tweek had been huddled for warmth; sharing the latter's thermos of coffee.
"And every year, they get better." Clyde smiled proudly, making his point.

As they entered the school, it was as though someone had turned up life's thermostat and resolution and volume; suddenly hit by warmth, fluorescent lights, and the bustling noise of student life. They started down a crowded hallway, debating the merits of Tweek's latest conspiracy theory on a supposed gray alien invasion. Turning a corner, they were suddenly met with the sight of Red and Kevin, making-out at the former's open locker.
Red was one of the most popular girls in school, and considered by many to be way out of the Star Wars-obsessed boy's league; but apparently they shared a lot of the same geeky interests.
"'Sup, weebs," Clyde said playfully, as the guys bypassed them. Tweek complained about being scarred for life. PDA was 'gross, man.'
"Hey, there's Kenny." Craig pointed down the hallway.
Token knew this statement was meant for Tweek, but couldn't help looking in the direction Craig had pointed, where Kenny was chatting with his own circle of friends at Stan's messy locker. Well, not so much chatting, as listening to the other guys.
Craig and Tweek headed toward them, and Clyde followed, so Token figured he ought to tag along.
"Hey, McCormick," Craig said, approaching the quartet.
Kenny turned to look at Craig and Tweek—briefly—before skipping over Clyde, and zeroing in on Token; who reflexively averted his eyes. Kenny returned his attention to the stoic raven and the twitchy blond. "Hey, guys. What's up?"
"Can we stop by after school?" By 'we,' Craig meant Tweek and himself. They bought weed off Kenny nearly every week, though Token was pretty sure Tweek was dabbling in harder drugs, too.
"Sure," Kenny said in his slightly Southern accent, meeting Token's eyes again.
Everyone looked back and forth between them, wondering why they were paying so much attention to each other, when Craig and Tweek were the ones who had business with Kenny.
"Okay, well, we'll see you later, Ken," Craig said, already walking away. Tweek waved goodbye, hurrying to catch up with him.
Token forced himself to look away from Kenny, and allowed himself to be dragged off by Clyde, whose arm was suddenly wrapped around his shoulder.
"Like I was saying," Tweek said, once they'd caught up, "they're probably hiding among us. I think they camouflage themselves, like chameleons, or something."
"There aren't any gray aliens hiding in South Park," Craig insisted.

Instead of napping at his desk, like every study hall period, Kenny attempted to sleep at the library. His study hall teacher was a pushover, who let the students talk as loud as they wanted; which was cool for everyone else, but Kenny wasn't much of a talker, and he just wanted some shut eye. Ironically, it seemed he would've had better luck, had he just stayed put.
"Hey, dude," a voice jarred him from his half-asleep state.
Kenny lifted his head from the table, peeking beneath the rim of his orange hoodie and dirty-blonde bangs. "Hey..." Token's sudden proximity made him feel slightly self-conscious. Kenny was sure that he smelled funky, and his clothes were so ratty compared to Token's expensive outfit, which was probably from Armani Exchange or something. "It's Tokin' Crack." Kenny smirked, crossing his arms behind his head and leaning the chair back on its hind legs; feigning confidence. Token playfully rolled his eyes at Kenny's nickname for him, pulling up a seat. They merely stared at each other, until Kenny felt uncomfortable enough to break the silence. "So, what's up?"
"Signing out a book," Token said, holding up aforementioned book. "Hey, I think we should... talk... about what happened."
"Here?" Kenny discretely surveyed the library. "Now?"
"Well... Maybe later?"
"Yeah, okay. I guess we should talk about it." Kenny had never been in this position before; none of his physical encounters had ever been complicated or significant enough to require being seriously discussed. "When, exactly?"
"How 'bout six-thirty?"
"'Kay." Kenny shrugged, figuring that would probably give him enough time to chill with Tweek and Craig beforehand. "I'll meet ya at Stark's."

As much as Kenny didn't want to go to school, that morning, he wished he didn't have to be coming home, right now. His parents were in the middle of another redundant fight; raising their voices, which would inevitably lead to raising their fists. He decided to stay in his room, where he kept himself busy, playing the Heaven vs. Hell sequel on his PSP and flipping threw old issues of Playboy.
Eventually, his father got fed up and left; probably to the bar. Kenny was thankful it was finally quiet, at least for a while. His parents didn't fight constantly, but often enough for it to wear on his mentality.

Around four forty-five, Kenny heard knocking on the front door. He left the sanctity of his room to answer it—figuring it was Tweek and Craig—but Karen got to it first. He was right about his hunch, though.
"Hey, man," Tweek greeted, waving from the doorway, where he and Craig were standing.
Karen silently wandered back into the kitchen, where she appeared to be working on homework; leaving Kenny to tend to his own company. He invited the guys inside and led them down the hallway, to his messy room.