Craig
"All my life my heart yearned for a thing I cannot name." –Andre Breton
…
About halfway through his fifth grade year, Craig realizes that there are good things in this world and then there are bad things. Craig always finds himself placing all the people and objects around him in one of those categories. South Park is bad, the planet is even worse. He can barely find anything other than Red Racer and Stripe to put in the good category. Nothing has ever been able to meet the middle.
…
Clyde kisses Bebe, or maybe Bebe kisses Clyde- either way he tells Craig all about it during lunch. It's the new fifth grade fad; kissing. It's not something you want; it's something you need. Guys aren't cool if they don't kiss, if they don't get rid of their first-kiss-virginity. They'd be called pussies because everyone would assume they're afraid of cooties. Cooties are now immature. Craig figures it's most likely the same for girls.
Clyde takes a bite of his sandwich and says, "Everybody's doing it. Especially Kenny." Craig's eyebrows rise, Clyde nods. "Yeah, I swear. He's probably kissed every girl in the fifth grade."
"Even Bebe?"
Clyde's eyes widen; he stops chewing. Token chuckles.
That day, Red kisses Kenny, but it doesn't count because Kenny kisses everyone. So she kisses Craig at recess. The lip on lip contact makes her blush but he doesn't. His friends congratulate him on losing his first-kiss-virginity, but he doesn't feel any pride and they don't call it first-kiss-virginity; they don't know what virginity is yet. Instead, Craig licks his lips and tastes something he doesn't like.
Craig thinks kissing is a bad thing.
…
In class, no one listens; no one raises his or her hand to answer questions except Wendy, who is an overachiever. Craig waits for the next South Park catastrophe he can miss out on, or at least try to. Sometimes, he gets caught up in the stereotypical town drama and that's the worst feeling: the feeling of being stuck in a spider's web.
Other times, he has to team up with Kenny, the infamous female kisser, to finish class projects. That was primarily the entire school year, total wastes of time, class projects. The subject always varied, as it should. One project was about Abraham Lincoln, another was focused on American Revolution; whatever it was, Kenny never slacked on it which was sort of surprising. Craig notices his nice handwriting, the way he slouches when he works.
He never said too much, never said enough. The hood enveloping his mouth was more like a veil hiding lips and words too sacred or possibly too vulgar for a fifth grader. Craig didn't want to know what it could've been. He didn't want to know about Kenny. He didn't need to. Kenny was poor and quietly perverted. He knew enough.
But when Kenny looks at him, blue eyes staring deep into Craig's, it changes his mind but only for a fleeting instant.
"What?"
The next fleeting instant is Craig scrambling for the glue stick in the blonde's hand, a quick aversion of the eyes, and the slightest tinge of embarrassment Craig could have ever felt. He didn't feel it much because he's only a fifth grader and fifth graders don't know what fleeting instants are but in the stern of his mind it's still there.
The next instant is unremarkable for the both of them and deserves a middle finger to the face. "Nothing."
(Craig realizes that fleeting instants are bad things too)
…
When you're a fifth grader at recess, you don't do much. The younger kids run around and enjoy life, but you, being the fifth grader you are, just sit. You engage in pointless conversation with others sitting around you. Sometimes you walk around the playground and engage in pointless conversation. Sometimes you play kickball because that's just about the only recess game fifth graders play. As for Craig, he watches.
There's Stan, Cartman and Kyle feuding over whatever preposterous bullshit they feud about, and a blob of mud streaked orange otherwise known as Kenny are all residing on the playground's jungle gym. Craig wonders how the fat one got to the top, and how he's going to get down. The blonde one kicks his legs into the air beneath him, barely speaks a word. It's one of those rarer than rare days when some rogue short locks of Kenny's bangs make through his hood. It twitches in the chilly wind.
Craig doesn't really know why he watches. There's nothing to be jealous of. There's certainly nothing to look at. So Craig decides to look at Clyde who's eagerly rambling about Bebe, his second kiss which he says is sort of a big deal.
…
Kenny kisses Wendy, but the blonde insists, "She kissed me."
Of course, Stan and Kenny's friendship deteriorates and leaves the hooded one at Craig's lunch table for a few days. They barely talk, just eat. Kenny devours all of food quickly; sometimes he asks Craig if he's going to eat his chicken patty. He always gives it to him.
When Stan gets back together with Wendy, Kenny is forgiven; he stops sitting at Craig's table, which is perfectly fine.
He doesn't feel much.
…
There was another class project in the spring, this time, about a book that neither Craig nor Kenny feel like reading. They both decide to watch the movie. Craig's dad rents it for him and the raven haired boy puts popcorn in the microwave because that's only right, right?
When Kenny arrives a few minutes before six, he only waves. He takes a seat on Craig's couch, denies the popcorn at first, but eventually eats it.
The movie is long and boring, something about George Washington. Craig can barely keep his eyes open. And Kenny, being the impulsive, curt kisser as he was, pecks his lips; he shoots adrenaline through the apathetic boy's veins. The split second lip to lip contact makes his muscles tighten, his dark eyes widen as they meet Kenny's.
"Don't fall asleep."
It's so simple, so short, and so sweet Craig doesn't say anything. He gives Kenny the finger, and cracks neck in an attempt to get rid of another tinge (Tinges are bad things too, especially when it comes to feelings) of embarrassment. But it was a kiss between two male fifth graders. It was Craig's second kiss, and tastes like popcorn butter. It was his second kiss and he thinks that it actually wasn't that big of a deal; it was still a bad thing. It would never be brought up again.
…
Craig can't tell if Kenny is bad or good. He convinces himself he doesn't care.
…
The summer begins with slightly perplexed sentiments for Craig.
In class, everyone talks about his or her summer plans. He doesn't have any. He writes his end of the year essay slowly, thinks about his handwriting. Occasionally he thinks about Kenny. He glances at him, but from his seat, Craig can only see the back of the blonde's hood. When he's bored he tries to narrow his eyes, see into Kenny's skull. It never works.
Craig doesn't think Kenny has any summer plans either.
On the last day of school, Kenny's not there. No one seems to miss him and no one seems to notice. Neither does Craig. He turns in his essay that day, a page long paper reiterating how "happy" he is to go on to middle school and eventually the rest of his life. Clyde cries which Craig thinks is absurd.
When he gets home, his father presents him a padlock; he can practice opening his locker. But Craig barely messes with it.
The break begins without Kenny.
…
I'm most definitely going to continue this one. Just bear with me!