Hello! This is my first fanfic! I hope you all enjoy it.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Kyle
Sigh. Seventeen. No powers yet.
Of course, it wasn't likely I would get them anyways. No one in my family carried the mutant gene (except Ike, but he's adopted). Still, it would have been nice to get something, and not feel like the black sheep of my social circle of friends.
My name is Kyle Broflovski, and I live in a small redneck mountain town called South Park. I am, as previously stated, seventeen years old, I am five feet, five inches tall, have a slim, curvy build, and weigh in the vicinity of 120 pounds, 125 if I'm being brutally honest. I used to have curly, bright red hair and brownish green eyes, until puberty and a mean prank played on me by my fat ass friend Cartman changed that.
It was a silly prank, really, not meant to cause any permanent damage, however Cartman isn't the brightest flame on the Menorah. We were playing truth or dare in the seventh grade. Cartman had dared me to put relaxer in my fiery mane. "Come on, you pussy Jew," he said, "just do it!" Being a prideful person, I did the stupid dare, just to prove I wasn't a pussy. Little did I know, Cartman had put dark brown hair dye in the relaxer. My hair hung around my face in a loose, bob-like fashion; the abnormally straight locks a dark shade of brown. The relaxer washed out after a month, with most of the hair dye. Unfortunately, the mix of relaxer and dye had left a permanent dark hue to my hair. My hair is a dark auburn now, and now I willingly relax it, due to the many compliments I received from my peers. My eyes became a brilliant emerald green after I turned thirteen. I remember my friend Stan jokingly telling me I looked like Harry Potter and Ron Weasely's love child.
Stan is my super best friend. We've known each other since we were toddlers. Stan, as well as our friend Kenny, is seventeen as well, Cartman being sixteen and nine months. Stan is six foot, two inches. He has an athlete's build, muscular and bulgy. He is a mutant, with the gift of super strength, as well as flight. His powers come in handy quite often, especially when I need a "lift" to school. Kenny's powers are pretty cool too. He's immortal, and he can drain the life out of his enemies through touch. It's because of this he has to wear his hoodie over his face tightened as much as possible. Cartman, unfortunately, has a useful power as well. He can shoot bolts of electricity from his fingertips. Yep, all of my friends have awesome powers, and I have nothing, no talents at all.
Okay, so I do have a talent. But I personally don't consider it a talent. When I went through puberty, my voice remained high and feminine. I was always a good singer, but now my soprano voice has earned me not only the title of Best Singer in South Park, but also a spot as my music teacher's favorite student. But that's not the only thing that sets me apart from the rest. I'm also gay. My father didn't mind in the slightest, however my mother flipped a bitch. But after fifteen minutes of disowning me, she came to my room and asked if her bubbulah would like some supper. So, after her bipolar episode, which she has frequently, she didn't give two shits about my love of penis. There are a few other gay men in South Park, and a few women as well, and the community is pretty accepting as a whole, but there's always that nagging feeling of being a minority.
So, that's my life in a nutshell. I would explain more, but it's almost seven, and I'm late for school. I walk into my bathroom, and begin my daily routine. I brush my auburn locks, watching them flip out at the ends. I brush my teeth, scrub my face, and walk into my enormous closet. Abandoning my green hats and garish orange jackets, I had bought a whole new wardrobe with my Bah Mitzvah money. I slip on a pair of black skinny jeans that fit snugly against my legs. I pull a silk green sweater over my head, and lace up my knee high black combat boots. I shrug on my black pea coat, wrap my neck in a silk green scarf, and head for the door.
Luckily, my mother is able to give me a lift to school today, so I don't have to worry about flying with Stan and having him accidentally drop me. I run to the entrance of the South Park High School, praying my teacher would be as late as I am. I fling the door open, and catapult myself into my seat. Next to me, Kenny snickers as I attempt to catch my breath. "Late again, are we, Red?" he teases through his hoodie. Most can't understand Kenny's muffled dialect, but after nine years of listening to his garbled gab, I've become fluent in Kenny Speak. He and my other friends like to call my Red because, obviously, my hair is red. "I'm just grateful Ms. Garrison isn't here yet," I say. Ms. Garrison, after realizing she hates teaching the third grade, she went back to college for two weeks, harassed three of her professors, and raise hell until she received sufficient credentials to teach high school. At the time, she hadn't realized that she would have to teach another year with Cartman as her student. "Hello class, sorry I'm late, but I was busy having my period," Ms. Garrison pulls me out of my musings, as she begins to lecture about something or other. The day goes by relatively quick, and I head to my locker when the last bell rings. I open my locker and check my reflection in my locker mirror. I'm not a vain person, but even I can't resist watching my hair bounce as I shake my hand from side to side. I squeak as I feel a large hand grasp my ass firmly. I turn sharply to see my boyfriend Clyde grinning down at me. Clyde is about my age, at six feet three inches, with luscious brown hair that curls at his ears, a football player's physique, and lightly tanned skin that complimented my light peach skin perfectly. "Hey, sexy," he said, kissing my cheek, "how's your day going?" I smile up at him. Clyde and I have been dating since the eighth grade. We haven't gone farther than second base, but I hold out hope that one day, we'll finally take the next step. He walks me to the parking lot, and Cartman's blue Honda accord pulled up beside me. Cartman had agreed to give me rides home until I can get my license this weekend. I hop in, trade a few insults with Cartman, and bid Clyde farewell as Cartman slams his foot on the gas. Halfway home I realize I have to cheer Clyde on at his football game tonight. I feel elated at the prospect of seeing Clyde excel at something he loves.
I become so wrapped up in my thoughts I don't see the car speeding towards us until it's too late.
Welp, that's the first chapter! Kyle won't be getting his powers until about chapter three. This was kind of a background into the AU I've created. Reviews are love!