Dear Reader,

I feel the need to warn you that this is NOT by stretch of the imagination, a happy story. I should not bother you with it at all, but he would have wanted me to let go of the pain and move on, so that is the basis for my own selfish reasons. Besides, I have thought long and hard about how I would move on after everything that happened, and finally decided that the best way is by telling you the truth of what happened, not the lies the town spread throughout the country. He would have liked that.

I first met Kyle Broflovski in the middle of 2008. My fifteenth summer was a hot, dry one during which the residents of Newburg, Missouri barely left their homes for fear their cheap lipstick melting off in rivers of soup-substance; their expensive suits ending up darker than when they were originally bought; or simply falling through a dry crack in the ground (from lack of rainfall) with nothing left of their existence but an empty, slowly decaying house and maybe two or three dogs or mules soon to be pawned off by poor, and therefore greedy, neighbors. The gazeebo in town square was more of a heat stroke-inducing time bomb than a safe haven from the sun and everyone sought mercy within the walls of the church. The citizens of my small town bustled when outside, the desire to make the town great again and keep rats or black snakes from population and status driving them along. No stranger, especially one of color or non-Christian origin, was welcome to stay in Newburg. Change was not welcome. In fact, Kyle could not have come at a worse, yet better time....

"Eric, could you bring me them green beans? They need to to clean befo'e I can cook 'em." My mother's hands, as far as I think back on it, were neither frail nor exceedingly strong. They were the calloused, tiny hands of someone not used to having a man to support her until the arrival of a son some fifteen years before. She relied me to do many of the chores that a man should do, but some of the embarassing women's chores as well. I loved her though, do not get me wrong, and I helped her in anytime she would let me. Family was extremely important to me back then.

"Of course Mama.... Say, can I play with Stan and Kenny?" At the time, "playing" meant trying a cigarette for the first time or catcalling the pretty girls and no matter how many slaps we received or coughs we endured, we would be sure to try something even more exciting the next day. Today we were going to try stomaching hard liquor, but Mama did not know that.

"Sure sweethaht, just remember to take care by the tracks...." As she trailed off, I looked up from the basket of picked green beans I carried to see her in front of the sink, peering out the window. I followed her eyes and was not pleased by what I saw.

Usually our window overlooked a house resting stop on hill that the town's founders had given up on before it was even finished. It stood on bad ground and had since been surrounded by weeds, trees, and ivy, each trying to stake a claim in gradually choking the small, underdeveloped property out of existence. However, now through the smudged glass I spied a smaller-than-average Hoovercart, or car, being unloaded and the belongings being taken into the house. What the...? Setting the beans on the counter beside Mama, I went out to investigate, calling that I would be back soon and then the sound of fish frying in the skillet accompanied Mama in the kitchen.

When I arrived twenty minutes later, the only person on the hill was a kid who looked to be around my age. "What are you doing here?" I growled in one of my more menacing voices. He turned, giving me a dazzling smile I did not expect and made his way toward me, stopping a few feet away.

"Hello, I was not aware we had neighbors!" He had an accent, comfiriming my suspicions that he came from far off. I quirked a brow, gesturing down the mountainous slope toward the small hill my house resided on. "I don't know how you didn't know, we're right over there." I shook my head. He distracted me from my question! "What are you doing here?" I repeated, making the tone that much more intimidating.

"I am moving in!" His smile grew even wider, making me sure he was some kind of alien. How can someone be happy about leaving everyone they cared about? As I considered his lack of loyalty to one place, I also took in his appearance. Small in height and weight, hair like autumn leaves, summer grass for his eyes, and skin as pale as the soft moonlight, a light splatter of freckles across his nose-this boy was definately good-looking. In fact, if he grew some inches, put on a handful of pounds and had been born here, there was no doubt in my head that all the availiable girls would be all over him. However, he was stranger and judging by the silly, circular hat on the back of his head, a Jew as well.

"No one 'round here takes too kindly to strangers. Stir up too much trouble." I hoped my warning would take an immediate effect and he would pack away his things and leave. (Oh reader, if he had chosen to leave then!) "You should go on and pack, leave town.

"But this is such beautiful scenery. And the land is spacious even in town!"

"You're not hearing me, boy!" I cried over his attempts. "Leave!"

He smiled again, but this time it was sad. "I am sorry Eric, but I can not go. Father says he wants to start a new life and well, the city holds...bad memories." Huffing angrily, I turned-for I knew I could win this moving in battle another day-and stomped back to my house, not bothering to give the Jew a second glance.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

A/N: This chapter isn't as long as I originally had it, but I thought this would be a good place to stop for now. By the way, the adults will be the only ones with the southern accent written down because it would be too much trouble if everyone spoke that way and you guys didn't understand what the heck I was talking about. And also, I'm kinda lazy...XD

I wanted the setting to be in South Park, but (imagine my own surprise when I thought this) I thought South Park would be more politically correct. Sorry if you think Newburg is the wrong town for this story, but it's old and teeming with historical predjudice. Please leave a review and I'll post the next chapter as soon as possible. In the meantime, here's a sneak peek!

"How did you know what religion I practice?" He asked with a chuckle, reaching back and slightly brushing his Jew-hat with his hand.

"Does it really matter is if it's the wrong one?"

"Why do you think my religion is wrong, Eric?" The kid-Kyle-asked calmly. The only indicator of any emotion was a confused frown. I had to admit, the question threw me off balance and I did not wonder how he already knew my name.

"B-beacuse Jesus is, is the Son of God!" I sputtered. "The Jews killed him out of fear of change and spitefulness, and God hates for murdering His only Son!" I could not believe he had never thought of this logical explanation.

"But why do you think that? Did you ever stop to think that Jesus might have been a false prophet? If he was, and we stopped him from spreading blasphemous beliefs throughtout the children of Israel, was that so wrong?"

"...."

"I do not mean for you to doubt your religion, Eric." He was now smiling that brilliant smile again, shaking his head. "I am only trying to show you a different side of the conflict." He then reached up to pat me on the shoulder, but I stepped back.

"Look Jew, I'm not gay."

"I suppose this town is pretty close-minded then."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well you seem to shun whatever is new or out of the ordinary and you think whatever God says about anyone means that He hates them. I feel sorry for you Eric, because as long as you share the same mindset, you will not have many true friends." He walked away then, leaving me to mentally defend my beliefs. If he kept this up, he would never get out of my head.

Dammit.

A pretty long preview this time! :D Until next time!

~theflawintheplan