An idea from CarnivalRiotLovex3 with her South Park is Mean video (the link is on my profile). By watching this you can already tell who all the characters are going to be. If it were up to me I'd choose differently, but hell if it wasn't for that video I wouldn't even be writing this shit. Just a stupid OOC filled knock-off collab of the movie Mean Girls using South Park characters (who--I repeat--have the personalities of the characters from MG, meaning they are totally OOC). This story is totally out there with little sense involved that I didn't actually plan on posting to the world and is only written for fun. My friend encouraged me to post this and I have nothing else going on, so here it is. Probably the gayest fanfic you will ever read -_-
By the way, some stuff is changed up a bit so it wasn't like I just took the Mean Girls script and switched the names around. Its got the same plot-line, just said a little differently.
And just a warning, this is all unbalanced. It keeps on switching from present-tense to past-tense, since I suck majorly at first-person POV.
Chapter 1: Hello, High School
I guess it's natural for parents to cry on their kid's first day of school. But, you know, this usually only happens when the kid is five.
"Oh! My little Bubbula's first day of school! I can't believe it!" my mother sobbed into my chest while giving me a bone-crushing hug with her meaty arms. While struggling to breath, I patted her back comfortingly, glancing over at my dad for help. Thankfully, he stepped forward.
"Sheila, get a hold of yourself. He'll be fine." My mother pulled away and switched to squeezing the life out of her husband instead, wailing more dramatically than ever.
I'm sixteen, and until today I was home-schooled. I know what you're thinking. 'Home-schooled kids are freaks'. Like these two kids I knew years ago, Mark and Rebecca, who happened to be the cleverest kids I knew, but also the awkwardest. Mark spoke in the properest of ways, and his sister Rebecca was always fidgeting and speaking at the quivering speed of a high chipmunk (like that even makes sense). Or you may be thinking that we're weirdly religious, or something. But not me. I'm just your average Joe. Unless you happen to think Judaism his 'weirdly religious'. Or that living my past twelve years in Africa with my research zoologists parents and Canadian brother, being the paled skinned, red-headed American I am, isn't normal.
Anyway, I had a great life. But then my mom got offered tenure at Colorado University of Mines. So it was goodbye Africa, and hello high school. And that's why my mother his currently bawling her eyes out and my father his blinding me with his flash-camera for the family album.
My eleven-year old brother steps out onto the porch, my paper lunch-bag in hand.
"You forgot this," he says, holding the the brown bag up for me to take. I smile appreciatively down at my sibling and ruffle his black hair, taking the lunch with my other hand. The lucky bastard doesn't start elementary school until next week.
"Thanks, Ike," I say before he hurries back inside.
"Come now, Kyle. I'll walk you to school," Dad calls to me. I nod and we make our way down our new street, waving goodbye to my hysterical mother.
I'm not exactly sure what I was expecting, but certainly not this. I'm almost scarred to walk through the crowd of (what I guess are) my new school-mates. In front of me I see kids setting a backpack into flames (I'm pretty sure they aren't allowed to do that), kids who looked like they just rose from the dead (seriously, they look like vampires or something), some with all these pins--even safety pins--stuck in their faces (if they even came within five feet of my refrigerator, their faces would be covered in magnets too), kids who were tackling each other (I can't tell if they're fighting or fooling around, but either way I don't want to get too close), and kids, by the way they were glaring at me, looked like they were ready to pounce on me like hungry lions and tear me to shreds. I honestly can't believe I made it to the school gates without more than the shove I received in the shoulder and a football to the head.
Once I was safely (not so much) in the hallways, I pulled my class schedule out of my bag to remind myself where my homeroom was. I leaned against the lockers and scan my eyes over the yellow sheet of paper.
Homeroom: 536
Oh, Moses. Great. So now I have to climb five floors up and reach the other side of the building before the bell rings.
Totally not my day! Where the flip is this damn room?! I've been walking around for minutes (trust me, a lot longer than it sounds), and I still can't find stupid room 536! Way to get off to a good start of public high school, Kyle. I guess I should ask someone. Mom and Dad told me that if I ever needed help with anything, I could just ask the teachers or "the big kids" for their aid. I pick this brown-haired boy in a sports jacket across the hall talking to a group of girls.
"Uh, excuse me?" The boy looks up with a crooked eyebrow. He looks me up and down in a confused manor.
"Yeah?"
"I'm new here, and I was wondering if you could help me find room 536?" I asked as politely as I could. His amused expression sort of creeps me out.
"New, huh?" I nod in response, still awaiting for his directions. "Okay, see, what ya gotta do is: You go down those stairs, take a right over by the pool, then through the courtyard where you take another right into the next building..." As he went on, I struggled to keep up and remember each step.
"...Okay, thanks..." I said when he finally finished. He flashed me a grin with teeth that were undoubtedly whitened.
"No problem, man. Welcome to South Park High." I gave him my gratitude once more before heading down the stairs across the hall.
Now lets see. He said take a left--no, right--and I should be able to find a pool. A pool, huh? That's pretty cool. I didn't know this school had a pool. Okay, I should be approaching it right about now.
...
Where the hell is the pool? He did say to the right, didn't he? Oh well, I'll try the left.
...
Boiler room? Just were the heck am I? Did I take a wrong turn? Shoot! The bell just wrung! Fantastic, now I'm late on my first day.
I spot a girl over at the end of the nearly deserted hall I am now in, exiting a bathroom.
"Hey, excuse me!" I shout down the corridor, fastening my pace to reach her. "Can you help me out?"
She waits for me to make it to her side. "Sure. What's up?"
"Could you tell me where the pool is?" She raises a black eyebrow at me.
"Pool?"
"Yeah. See, I'm trying to get to class and this kid told me to find the pool somewhere around here, but I can't find it." I smile awkwardly, slightly embarrassed to admit that I was lost. What a lousy sense of direction I have. The girl snickers, shaking her head, her long raven locks dancing around as she did so.
"There's no pool here at SPH. You got played for a sucker."
I don't know what "played for a sucker" means, but I did understand the first part. Which means... that that boy lied to me? Why would someone do something like that? My God, I feel so stupid. Are all the kids at this school like that? Hopefully not this girl I'm talking to.
"So, which class are you looking for?" she asked. I'm glad to see she's still willing to help me. I hold up my schedule for her to see.
"I'm trying to find room 536. Do you know where that is?" She reads over the number for herself.
"Oh hey, that's my homeroom," she says. I look at her in surprise.
"Really?"
"Yeah, I was just on my way there now. Come on, I'll show you how to get there." I sighed with relief. It's a good thing I asked her. Or else I might have been wondering around for this non-existent pool all day.
During our walk, the girl I was following decided to bring up a conversation.
"So are you new here or what?" she asked, half glancing at me behind her shoulder.
"Yeah, I just moved here from Africa." She frowned a little and turned around more to get a better look at me.
"Africa? Huh. You're the whitest African I've ever seen."
I smiled halfheartedly at this, not sure if it was supposed to be funny or not. I realize we haven't been properly introduced.
"My name's Kyle."
"Wendy," she informed, looking straight ahead again. "Testaburger." I chuckled at the last name.
"Test-a-burger?" I pronounced. "That's a weird name." Oh damn, maybe I shouldn't have said that.
But Wendy only snorts an "I know, right?", making me feel more content.
A couple of stair flights later, the two of us enter a room full of noisy students. It appears the teacher isn't here yet. Thank God. Maybe today isn't going to be so terrible after all.
Wendy walks over to a small blond boy who looked to be sleeping on his desk. She removed her backpack and let it drop to the tiled floor, the abrupt sound it caused awakening the boy. He made a sort of snorting noise as his body gave a sharp twitch. After yawning loudly and rubbing his sleepy blue eyes, he blinked up at us. He smiled at the sight of Wendy.
"Oh, morning there, Wendy. Where are we?" He glanced around him, trying to remember his surroundings. When his gaze landed on me, his eyes widened, making me feel off guard. "Jeepers! Your hair is crazy!" he exclaimed in a way that almost sounded horrified. Before I could respond, not that I knew what to say, he jumped out of his chair and waltzed over behind me. I felt an uncomfortable crawling under my skin as the boy felt his fingers through my curls. "I mean, the color is gorgeous, but just look how bushy it is! Look, Wendy! It bounces back when you poke it." Wendy laughed at this, my expression was probably freaked out.
"Leave him alone, Butters. He's insecure." I'm not exactly sure how to feel about that 'insecure' comment, but at least it got this Butters kid's massaging hands out of my hair. I'm a little sensitive about my frizzy due, and don't particularly appreciate people pointing it out so openly. Wendy leaned towards the blond and loudly whispered, "He's new. From Africa." As expected, Butters stared at me in surprise.
"Africa?" I nodded, keeping my gaze away from his eyes. He tilted his head to the side a bit, looking confused. "Huh..." was all he said.
Wendy sat herself down in the desk in front of Butters', motioning for me to sit down next to her.
"This is Butters," she told me, pointing a thumb behind her at the boy who waved at me with a friendly smile. She added in another one of her loud whispers, "He's almost too gay to function." I would have thought this as an offensive thing to say, but apparently not Butters.
"She always says that," he giggled girlishly.
I grinned politely. "I'm Kyle."
"M'kay, settle down, students. M'kay?" a deep voice said before Butters could reply. I looked up to see a big-headed skinny man standing by the doorway. The man pushed the bridge of his round glasses up is pointed nose, frowning impatiently when the class continued about their business, paying him no mind. "Can I have you're attention please?" he said in a raised voice. The class continued to ignore him. It baffles me how disrespectful these teen aged Americans are.
Another figure stumbled behind the lanky man in the doorway. The man moved aside for a panting middle-aged guy with an arm full of supplies (books, coffee, eta.).
"Sorry I'm late," he apologized to anyone who was listening. He walked to the desk in the front of the room and dumped his things onto it, giving me the clue that he must be the teacher. "Traffic and crap."
"M'kay, Mr. Garrison. I was just trying to get these kids' attention," the large headed man told the other. Mr. Garrison looked over the students. Butters, Wendy and I were probably the only ones being quiet. Everyone else was up all over the place, chatting to one another and throwing things about.
"HEY!" I jumped in my seat at the ear splitting shout coming from the teacher. "TAKE YOUR SEATS AND SHUT THE HELL UP!" Every single kid fell silent and scurried to their desks. After all the sounds of chair legs scraping against the floor died down and Garrison was sure he had everyone's attention, he motioned for the other man to speak.
"M...kay... Well, students, I was just stopping by to welcome you all to your new year of being... what are you, juniors? Anyway, for those of you who don't know me from the years before, my name is Mr. Mackey, m'kay? I'm the school's counselor. If you ever feel the need to speak to me, feel free to stop by my office at any time. Also, I'd like to introduce a new student who just transferred here from Africa." He glanced down at a sheet of paper in his small bony hand. "A Kyle Bro...flo..."
"Broflovski, sir," I said aloud to help the man out with my rather difficult name. I can feel the whole class turn their eyes on me, and my cheeks start heating up against my will.
Worst possible spot to end the chapter at. This chapter is so horribly boring, I hate it. Probably because the 'Plastics' haven't made their entrance yet (which will be in the next chapter). I mean... Colorado University of Mines? Well, its not like I could use Northwestern University like in the movie (I think that's in Illinois, right? idk), so I googled "best university in colorado". I don't know anything about it. Just roll with it. And the only characters who don't fit with the Youtube video are the teachers. Its not like Mr. Mackey is the principal and Principal Victoria is the teacher. I sincerely hope that you liked this, or at least are interested in it enough to continue reading. And if you are, please review. Hell, even if you aren't I'd like your reviews. Thanks for reading.