December 16th. I have had that date in my head all year, and now it's gonna pay off! It's the most important date in the history if dates! December 16th; the date of Betty Daniel's birthday…this time, for sure. I don't know why, but I can never remember when it is! Betty doesn't throw parties, and she doesn't draw much attention to herself. Therefore, I always end up over-shooting my best friend's birthday by a few days and end up looking like a complete idiot. But this year, things are going to be different. I found out the date from a reliable source and wrote it on my calendar. How do I know he's reliable? Because Kenny McCormick does not associate with unreliable sources, that's why.
All year long, I have been trying to think of the best present ever to give her. The problem is that since she's so easy to please, I didn't have the slightest clue what to get. So I decided to get her something most girls like: jewelry. When Cartman so "graciously" reminded me that I can't afford anything that I had in mind, I had to settle with a jewelry box instead. I had tried going to the flea market to find one that was at least good enough for her, but all of the jewelry boxes they have are above my five-dollar price range…or broken…or creepy looking. In the end, I just made one at school during workshop. It's lop-sided, ragged, and weird looking, and I'll punch anyone in the mouth who says so. I'm lop-sided, ragged, and weird looking too and Betty still likes me. Maybe she'll like this box just as much. After the stain and the glaze finished drying last week, I took it home and wrapped it up. The wrapping looks just as bad as the box does, but who cares? It's just gonna get torn to shreds anyway, right?
December 16th. I've got the present in my hands and I am on my way to Betty's house. My insides always twist and turn when I see her on any given day. Lately, though, I feel like I'm going to blow chunks if I even catch a glimpse of her; kinda like what Stan used to do whenever he would see Wendy. When we were kids, me and Betty both would wear these big, bulky parkas that would hide our faces and muffle our speech. She very rarely took it off in public. Actually, she had never gone out in public without it at all. I outgrew my parka after fifth grade, and, unfortunately, was forced to throw it out. A lot of our friends were changing what they wore, but Betty kept to wearing her old parka. She told me once that she liked how isolated she felt from everyone else. It was a source of comfort and sanctuary for her. But since the first day of school this year, she hasn't worn a parka. Betty doesn't wear anything that hides her away anymore. I don't know what made her decide to ditch the parka. Honestly, I felt a little jealous at first because now everyone can see her in all her glory. On the other hand, I get to see how tiny she really is compared to everyone else. How cute she really is when she laughs. How pink her cheeks really get when I tease her. How small her mouth really is when she speaks. I have only ever seen her face once before now, back when she first moved here. If she was pretty then, she is beautiful now. It's so strange. It's like she's changed, but she hasn't. Even after four years, she still continues to blow my mind. And it is so much worse now that she can fully see what she does to me.
I finally get to her house and walk up the steps to the front porch. I put the present down directly beside the door so that it remains out of sight. I swallow what little spit I have left in my mouth and knock on the door. I rock back and forth on my heels for a minute or two before it is finally opened. A tall, fat old man with a huge white beard looks down at me and grins. "Oh! Well, if it isn't the young McCormick boy! How have you been, son?"
Ah, Mark. Betty's jolly ol' uncle who can easily pass for Santa Claus in a tweed suit. He's a traveling salesman, so he's not in town a whole lot. But I like him. He and his wife, Burnette, have really big hearts and don't really seem to mind the fact that I practically live here. They've even let me sleep over on a few occasions, which isn't exactly something most couples with teenage daughters will let me do. I flash him a big McCormick smile and wave up at him. "Hey, there, Mark. I've been okay, I guess. I just came by to see Betty real quick. Is she here?"
The old man gave me a knowing wink. I didn't mean for it to happen, but somewhere along the line, the sentence "I came to see Betty real quick" turned into "Yo, I may or may not steal your niece away for the rest of the day; is she busy?" Mark chuckles to himself and says, "Ohhh, you know her. She's in the back, as usual." In other words, "Yep; she's free, my boy. Have fun." He jabs a plump thumb in her general direction and tells me, "I'll go let her know that you're here, son." When he walks away, he leaves the door wide open as an invitation for me to wait inside. Instead, I stay right where I am, kicking some snow away from Betty's present.
After overhearing the sound of murmuring and other such noises from inside, Betty finally steps into view and—Oh, crap, I forgot how to breathe. She's not wearing anything glamorous. She doesn't have a lot of make-up on. Her hair isn't fixed in any special way. She looks perfectly normal. She's just standing there in an oversized sweatshirt/turtle neck, with sock-covered toes poking out beneath her baggy pants. She has that all-too familiar scarf tied around her head like a headband, keeping her hair out of her gray eyes. Her skin isn't as pale as it used to be since it isn't completely covered every day, but it's still pretty light. On anyone else, the whole thing would look normal. On Betty, though…Hoo, boy. On Betty, it looks so cute, and amazing, and adorable, and…and just so Betty! She gives me her sweet, sweet smile and I have to try not to melt into the slush on her porch. "Hey, Kenny!" she says, and she steps down onto the porch with me and reaches up to hug me around the neck.
I wake up from my stupid stupor and hug her back as gently as I can. I always feel like I'm gonna accidentally break her one of these days. "What's up, Bet?" I ask, voice cracking away. Friggin' puberty!
We break apart and Betty grins up at me again. "Not too much. A bit of this and a bit of that." She giggles a little then takes a step back. "Nothing out of the ordinary."
I chuckle under my breath and reach behind her neck to tug at the tails of her faded-blue scarf. "I still can't believe that you wear this old thing," I tease, "On a daily basis, at that!" Mom gave that scarf to her the first time she came to visit my house. She had told me that Betty seemed to like it a lot. So, since it would have just stayed in the bottom of a closet otherwise, the scarf became Betty's. I never knew that Betty continued to wear it beneath her parka until the beginning of school this year. She has yet to be seen without it.
Betty's cheeks turned a light shade of pink and she playfully swatted my hand away. "Don't make fun of my scarf; it's important to me!" She shows me how serious she is by sticking her tiny tongue out at me.
"Better be careful or I just might bite it," I say with a wink.
Her tongue immediately ducks back into her mouth, which is quickly hidden by both of her hands. Her entire face goes red and her eyes grow to the size of saucers. "D-Don't be a pervert!" she stammers. She looks so cute and bashful like that. A lump forms in my throat and I feel my face getting a little warm too. I try to get rid of the sensations by shaking my head, laughing to try and gloss over the random action. She pouts at me, her arms crossed.
I shake her head around a little. "Hey, now! What kind of face is that to give the person with your birthday present?" She blinks up at me, looking a little lost.
"…birth…What?"
I take a step towards her door and lean down far enough to reach the almost-forgotten present behind her. "Ta-daaaa!" I say, standing up with a flourish and presenting the gift to her. "Happy birthday, Betty!" Betty's expression is a mixture of pure surprise and confusion. "What, did you think I would forget your birthday?" Her eyes look up to meet mine and she smirks a little before I add, "…this year?" I can't help but sigh before rambling on. "Look, I know I keep forgetting, but this time I had someone who said that they definitely knew your birthday give me the date, and I wrote it down on my calendar! I've been scheming this all year." She looked at the gift for a little while longer before she actually grabbed the present from my hands. She doesn't open it right away; she just keeps looking at it, mulling it over and trying to make sense of it all. "Don't tell me that you forgot your own birthday this time," I joke.
A bashful smile creeps onto Betty's face. "Thank you so much, Kenny," she murmurs. "I don't know what to say." She draws the gift closer to herself before delicately peeling away the crappy paper to reveal the homemade jewelry box inside. She doesn't even say anything. Her lips part slightly, and she looks genuinely moved.
"It's a jewelry box," I explain, like the doofus that I am. "I know it's not all that fancy, but…" I trail off with a shrug. "Girls like jewelry boxes, right?"
Betty beams up at me with absolute ecstasy. "It's perfect! Thank you so much! You made this yourself?" I only nod sheepishly, and she rewards my valiant, year-long efforts with another hug. "You are too good to me! Thank you so, so much!" She releases me in favor of clutching her gift closer to her chest.
The feeling of relief washed over me. "I'm glad…I mean, I knew you'd like it, but, uh. Yeah, glad you like it." The cold was making my nose run, and I try to discreetly wipe my nose on my jacket sleeve. "Hey! Why don't I buy you a hot chocolate and we can go hang out at Stark's Pond?"
"That sounds like a great idea! Hold on, let me go put my box up, okay? I'll be right back!" And with that, she slips through the door, closing it behind her. I smirk to myself and confidently stick my hands inside my pockets. Smooth, McCormick. Smooth indeed.
KxBxKxBxKxB
I continue to hold the rugged little jewelry box tightly in my arms, being careful not to break it. I am still giggling like a loon, a goofy grin consuming my face. Sweet, darling Kenny. I can't believe he went to all this trouble just for me! I am going to treasure this tiny little box for as long as I live! Aunt Burny had poked her head out of the large archway leading to the kitchen to see what I was giggling about. "Was that Kenny at the door, Skittle Bug?" she asks me.
"Yes, ma'am. We're going to go to Stark's Pond after I put this in my room." I show her the box that Kenny had put so much time and care into making. "He made this for me. Isn't it great?"
The plump old woman began to coo. "Oh, bless his little heart. That boy is so sweet! What a nice thought, making you a jewelry box. And as an early Christmas present, too!"
I shake my head, grinning from ear to ear. "It's not for Christmas, Aunty. It's a birthday present."
Aunt Burny blinks at me for a moment. "But…your birthday is November 26th."
"I know," I say, smiling. "But he looked so proud of himself. I didn't have the heart to tell him."
((Long time, no see! (: So, as you may or may not have figured out, today is Betty's birthday. I usually celebrate with a picture, but…my tablet and I are not seeing eye to eye right now. (-'_'-. #) So, I dusted off the ol' word document and whipped this up last night. By the way, if any of you are curious, Kenny does find out and vows to kill his "reliable source," who is laughing in the background with his cheesy poofs. Wink, wink. I hope my writing skills have advanced since the last time I posted something on here. I'm learning a lot in college. d; Anyway, happy birthday, Betty! South Park belongs to Matt Parker and Trey Stone, while Betty Daniels, Uncle Mark, and Aunt Burny belong to me. Ciao for now!))