Hello South Park fans! I have been in the SP fandom for a long time, and I have finally decided to write a fanfic about it.

I got the inspiration for writing this after replaying South Park: The Stick of Truth. But, this one won't be about SP: TSoT though. Maybe if this gets enough love, I'll write a separate story of my Stick of Truth adventures. Meh. ·_·

Anyway, I shall start now.

Disclaimer: South Park belongs to the awesome Trey Parker and Matt Stone.

. . .

My life used to be awesome. I had a shit-ton of friends, I was spoiled by my parents, and my crush finally asked me out.

Sigh... those were the days.

But in the autumn of my eighth year, my parents got divorced. It wasn't because my mom thought that my dad was cheating on her or any of that shit, they just grew apart.

My dad was a doctor, and a really good one at that. He would go on trips to different countries to study new diseases that kept popping up.

After a couple years of this, they got divorced, but they remained good friends.

My mom got custody of me, but every couple weeks, I would go see my dad, who still lives in my hometown of Phoenix, Arizona.

My mom found a house in this place I would later know as South Park, Colorado.

. . .

"Samantha?"

I was snapped out of my thoughts when I heard my mother's voice.

She was a beautiful woman in her late 20's with pitch black, straight, shoulder length hair, chocolate brown eyes, and kind-of dark skin.

That sounded really racist. Oh well.

"What?" I finally answered, annoyed.

"It's time to board the plane." She said, standing up and grabbing her luggage.

I sighed and grabbed my luggage as well before standing up. I saw that my mom was already walking toward the boarding area, but before I could catch up to her, this little kid-a boy, about six or seven-walked up to me.

"Why is you skin weird colored?" He asked.

Surprisingly, I wasn't offended. Little kids asked me this all the time. I'm not black though, I'm Mexican.

And cue racist jokes.

"It's because I'm not American." I finally answered.

The kid blinked, and then smilied. "Hey, I'm not American, either! My mommy said I'm German... I think."

I chuckled. "That's cool."

Before we could say anything else, a woman, who was probably the kid's mom, ran up to us. "Alex!" She scolded.

"Oh, it fine." I told her with a smile, "I get it a lot."

"You poor thing!" She cried, "People these days, I swear..."

Alex and I giggled. "Well," Alex's mom started, "Alex, this young lady probably needs to get on her plane."

She grabbed Alex's hand and pulled him back to the waiting area. He waved to me and said, "Bye-bye!"

I smilied and waved back before getting into the boarding area with my mom. When I got next to her, she raised an eyebrow and asked, "What took you so long? Your luggage shouldn't be that heavy."

"Another kid asked why I'm Mexican." I answered nonchalantly.

My mom sighed. "People these days, I swear..."

"That's exactly what the kid's mom said." I said, laughing. She laughed too.

. . .

The plane ride was pretty quiet. My mom played Flappy Bird on her phone (she's one of those awesome moms), while I listened to music on my iPod.

While I was listening to "Pain" by Three Days Grace, my mom pulled the earphone out of my right ear. "Hey! What the heck?"

"I've been trying to ask you something for the past ten minutes." She said.

"What is it, then?" I asked, extremely annoyed.

"Did you even bother to brush your hair this morning?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

That morning, I felt really lazy and pissed off that my mom woke me up at six in the fucking morning, so I pulled my pitch black, straight, waist-length hair into a high, sloppy tangled-filled ponytail.

"No." I answered nonchalantly.

My mom uncontrollably faceplammed, much to my amusement.

. . .

I got out of my mom's red Camre and slammed the door, ignoring her "you put a dent in it, you're paying for it" threat.

I suddenly hugged myself and shivered. "JESUS PENIS IT'S COLD!" I shouted.

My mom rolled her eyes and said, "You probably should have dressed better then."

I looked down at my clothes. I was wearing a black t-shirt, blue jeans with holes in them, and black combat boots.

I glared at my mom and said, "I'm sorry, but this isn't Arizona, is it?"

My mom chuckled, to my dismay, and tossed me my dark blue winter coat. "Here."

I caught it and mumbled "thanks" before putting it on.

I looked up at my new house before sighing.

Samantha Antonia Rodriguez, welcome to Hell.

. . .

And there's chapter one! Hope you guys liked it.

I'll see you all in the next chapter! Or in my other stories. Either way!