Summary: After you leave South Park, you never want to look back. At least Tweek Tweak didn't. Now he'd finally come back home to finish his senior year of High School. Welcome to the fucked up ride of your life. There will be parties, bullies, bastards, boyfriends and video games. Why did he move here again?

Disclaimer: Want it so bad, but my savings account just got tapped out.

Warnings: Parties with out parental guidance, Drugs, Bad-for-your-health-shit, Unethical behavior, Boy-love, sex that may not be quite consensual.

Read and weep: I know i have to many stories, i know that dude! But when i write... i write, it's not exactly predictable. And i love Tweek, so he features in here a lot. Main-pairing is a secret, mostly cause Tweeky and Kylie get around... a lot.

New schools were probably the worst thing about my life.

My family moved around a lot, mostly due to my problems. Mom felt like if we stayed in a town to long we were disturbing the other people. She felt it was unfair of them to put up with me so long. So every eight or ten months mom and I moved. Dad had stayed in South Park to manage our main Coffee House branch while the two of us traveled around America to our other stores.

This was our last move though, or at least my last one. I had been accepted into the University of Colorado next fall so mom had decided I could finish off my senior year close to there. So here I was back in South Park, parked in the newly assigned parking space in South Park high.

I'd left this town behind almost eight years ago, after fourth grade, and had never wanted to come back. This town was filled with small minded prejudiced hicks and idiot children. Having been all around America I could honestly say this was the worst place I'd ever lived.

Of course I was picked on elsewhere, but here it was cruelty and idiocy abounds. The crazy happenings and the people I hung out with had spurred on my delusions as much as my parents did. It wasn't until eighth grade I'd been diagnosed as Schizophrenic but I had had delusions for much longer. Underwear gnomes and excess paranoia. And sometimes in this town, even looking back with a clear head, I wasn't sure how much I had made up and how much was real.

I was not looking forward to going to school here again, to staying here for the next nine months.

Sitting in my rapidly cooling car I speculated as to whether these kids would remember me or not. Mom had said SP High was small, like two hundred students small. They were bound to remember the twitchy kid from grade school, right?

I had changed of the years, pretty fucking drastically too, and with the help of medication I was basically a different person.

My features weren't too much different. I still had shaggy blond hair and over-large green eyes, I was still pale and thin and embarrassingly short.

But added to that I had turquoise splashes in my yellow hair. My eyes were hidden behind rectangular wire frames, and lined with back kohl. My lip had a silver hop and my eyebrow was pierced with a silver bar. My clothing was a change as well, I wore a soft green tee-shirt, no buttons to fuck up, and olive green cargo pants. My thick combat boots were messily laced with neon green string and tied as tightly as I could get them.

All in all I looked very different.

I didn't really twitch anymore either. I had the occasional spasm or shiver but it wasn't as constant and drastic as before. My hallucinations were not one hundred percent in control but most times I could avoid acknowledging them. My voice wasn't as stuttering as before, curtsey of some great vocal lessons and singing courses.

Sighing I got my car door open and gathered my back-pack and thermos. I stepped away from my car and studied it. It was a vintage, remodeled, Volkswagen Microbus painted in orange and cream. Very un-Tweek like I liked to think.

Yes the most telling thing about me would be my goddamned coffee.

Straightening my shoulders and walking toward the school I was ready to face them all over again. Whether they remembered me or not.

Finding the Music room was my first goal.

I had exactly a half hour before the bell rang for homeroom and by then I needed to confirm my place on the colorgaurd with the band director. Coming in, in December, was bad enough, but getting an audition was worse.

The south Park Marching Cows. Seriously.

The routine I'd been given was basic, a few flick's, turns, throws and some marching. I'm pretty sure the woman was desperate for a boy, because I'd called a week before we moved and got an audition immediately. The completions were going to start in March and last until may, but the practices were already underway.

The music room was empty when I arrived. Instruments piled in one corner and a piano in the center of the room. On the whole it didn't look as white trash and poor as I'd feared. It was nowhere near as grand as the school I'd went to last, a privet one in New Hampshire, but I wasn't expecting it to be.

I took a seat on the piano bench and waited. My coffee, and my patients, were almost gone when the frazzled Band direct came in the door minutes before I would have to go to homeroom. Glaring at her I stood and kept my eyes on the ground as I talked, rather not piss her off, what if she had a gun and decided to start her life on the run early with a higher body count than expected. Or worse what if she were the government.

I calmly asked "Uh, Miss Diekholl? My names Tweek Tweak, I tried out late for the colorgaurd, I was wondering if you had decided yet?"

The woman stopped in front of me on her way towards the door on the opposite side of the room. She didn't speak for a minute, making me uncomfortable, was she planning the best way to minimize blood stains on her instruments?

"Oh!" She almost shouted, causing me to jump and look at her, my empty thermos held against my chest.

"Yes! Mr. Tweak. You made the Guard. Be at practice to night, the Gym at four thirty!" and then she was gone, slamming the far door and muttering to herself. Brilliant. South Park is still a fucked up self-centered town.

Grudgingly headed down the halls looking at room numbers, which were just as messed up as anything else in the town. 309 to 124 in one door space?

My homeroom was a small room, fourteen desks in neat rows infront of a clreaded off teachers desk. The only poster on the wall was a cheesy Charlie Brown one, Snoopy was chasing numbers around a white background. Better than I expected.

I was nervus about being the first person in the room, and fror the time being the only one, because it made choosing a seat particularly hard, wht if I sat in someones seat and they decided to hurt me? I'm not particularly pyshically intimidating and my verbal assaults could use some work as well. And then what if the seats were alphabetical and the teacher decided I wasn't worth the trouble I was causing and sent me out of the roo for the rest of the year. I would fail homeroom and then UC would never let me go to college and I'd be stuck here in South Park forever.

I walked to the front of the room and leand against the wall beside the teachers desk, allowing my bag to slide to the floor but clinging to my thermos. It would be easiest to wait on the teacher to introduce me than to sit in anyone elses seat on my first day.

Mom had promised me a dtail job on Murphey, my microbus, if I avoided any fights for my whole first week. Not that I saought fights routinely. But somehow I always managed to piss someone off immediately upon meeting them. My dad once told me, on one of his rare visits to see mom and I, that it was my gay showing.

That was back beofr ei had my meds and I was up three days straight trying to find a way to hide my gay. It took collapseing from exaushtion and a doctor telling me it was impossible to tell if someone was gay just by looking before I went to school again. Sometimes I'm still convinced people can see, but now I know that's only my desise talking.

People begin trickleing in while I'm musing about weater or not Murphy would look good with tinted windows. I recognize most of them. It seems like everone from class back in the day is in this home room. It's remarkable how little they have changed. I'm even more sure they won't recognize me now.

I see Wendy Testaburger wearing a purple sweater and white skirt, to show off her maure figure, with a little purple hair band in. Her body may have grown and matured but she has the same long black hair and brown eye, the same stlye of clothing even. Next to her is the equally unchanged bebe. She has her bushy blond hair in a pony tail now though, and her black skirt was exchanged for jeans in the last eight years.

I see Token and Clyde and I tense up. Those two are the most likely to recognize me, being the people I hung out with most. But Token seems preoccupied with his Cel phone and Clyde seems to be oggleing Bebe. Actually no one is noticeing me at all.

A grown up version of Stan and Kyle come in the door just as the bell rings and everone takes there seats. There still isn't a teacher so I'm stuck staring at a class full of old friends and bullies with no clue as to what to do.

Just as I'm sure no one will bother with me until the teacher shows and calls order I'm noticed.

I never had any feelings for Kyle Brofvlowski one way or another before, but at the moment I could kill the jackass. His big greens eyes fall on me and light up with excitement, he had always loved a mystery.

"Hey! Who are you?" his voice was far deeper than my own, baritone probably, and he sounded so curiosu.

His har had grown out to respectable chin length, slightly shorter than mine, and the curls had loosed into deep waves. His sin was still milky porcline but he seemed ot be one of the few kids to change in any way. Honestly the only reason I recognized him was because of his proximity to Stan.

His shirt was black, same as his jeans, and he wore a jean jacket over the ensable. His shoes were chuck taylors. He was probably the most handsome boy in the room beside Stan. Stand had grown into the promise of his looks as a little boy, his jaw strong and smile wide. He wore blue jeands and a red shirt wih white high-tops. The regular all-american kid. With his wide shoulders and obvious mucels I was willing to bet he played for the football team still.

I groaned and let my head bang back into the white stone wall as every kid heard Kyle's question and turned to face me. I still hadn't decided weather to let them try and remember me on their own, or just to get it over wih.

"Well, Kyle, I'm that new kid standing in the front of the room waiting to be introduced." I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster up with one cup of coffee under my belt. Kyles eyebrows shot up and I realized that I really didn't have a choice now.

"How do you know my name?" His voice was suspicious now and everyone seemed to be leaning forward egar to here, probably, the most exciting thing in South Park now.

"Uh.. We knew each other when were were little." I said staling.

"And what's your name? How did we know each other.?" Kyle had a smile back on his face now. Probably knew he'd won, bastard.

"I went to schoo here in South Park back in tird and Fourth grad. My name is Tweek Tweak." I closed my eyes as I said the last. Wery of any reaction.

"Tweek?" an excited and rather loud voice burst from further away and I cringed internally here we go.

But I thought tha id used to like spaz all the time."

"Yeah idn't he like drink coffee like it was meth?"

At that I opened my eyes and smiled, poking at my lip ring with my tounge. I raised a hand holding my travel thermos o show them.

Kyle laughed and waved his arm at me. "Come sit by me. Kenny usually sits ther but he died las night."

If I hadn't remembered Kenny ding I might have been more shocked at the callouse behavior, but as it was I just sat.

Kyle turned in his seat facing me a couple kids leaning in to talk as well.

"Normally our homeroom teachers never here, we sit and talk for the hour, it's really crappy but some kids use it to do homework." He was glaring at his best friend as he said this. Stan just smiled.

I was about to reply, maybe say something about not having yor homework done would probably kill me with the pressure, when someone shouted across the classroom.

"Ay, Tweek! You may not know, cause when you left but you should stay away from Kyle, he's a homo now!" I looked behind Kyle and saw the one person I had hoped never to set eyes on again. Eric Cartman. With an internal goodbye to my Detail job I decided I couldn't let that one pass.

Besides if they found out I was gy latter and didn't who knew what they could do to me?

While looking directly into Kyles sad eyes, I leaned forward conspiritoryly. "I probably shouldn't tell him about the last three men I fucked should I? He might be nervous if he knew they were gay."

There was shocked silence for a minute before Kyle giggled.

Score for the spaz.

"O-oh my god!" Kyle gasped through his laughter. "Tweek that was brilliant!"

Most of the rest of the room seemed to be in shock so Kyle and I talked for the rest of the hour, catching up on life and talking about university, Kyle would be going to the same one as I in the fall. It turned out Kyle and I had a lot in common, he was in the marching band, Tenor Drums, and he was going to major in therpy, where as I was going to major in art therpy.

When the bell rang we said our goodbyes and I headed out to look for the math room, one friend up.

Of course hoping Cartman would forget about me after my remark was too much to ask for.

StarGuide2011