This is a story I started on my Deviantart account. I do not own South Park. This story will have lemons in later chapters. So if you don't like that kind of stuff, then click the pretty arrow up in the corner and go away.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

"I'm sorry it has come to this, but there is no other way."

I ignored the social worker driving the car and stared at the snow-covered mountains in the distance.

"South Park is a nice little town, and the Brofloskis are a great family; they can not wait to meet you. You should be happy you are going to a decent family," she added in a tone that told me she was tired of my ignoring her. "Greyson, are you listening to me?"

I sighed, unconsciously stroking the scars on my left forearm. They were a reminder of a darker time; the reason I was sent away from my last home and now being relocated to Colorado.

"Sheila and Gerald Brofloski have two boys. One is around your age so you'll have someone to talk to."

Rolling my eyes, I slouched further against the seat. If this chick thinks I'm gonna be friendly, she had another thing coming. Thanks to my last home, I do not trust anyone or talk to anyone. I haven't spoke in so long I'm kinda scared my vocal cords will break if I try.

"We're here!"

A quaint wooden sign with 'South Park' painted on announced where the city limits started; it was very...creative.

The social worker went left two times then right three times and pulled to a stop in front of a dark green house. She turned off the car and got out.

"Come on, Greyson!"

I heaved a sign but got out, slinging my black backpack over my shoulder. My blue sneakers crunched through the snow as we walked up to the front door. The social worker knocked on the door, and I was surprised by how fast the door was answered.

The door opened to reveal a rather chubby woman with a red beehive hairdo wearing a blue suit. She had a broad smile on her plump face and invited us into her house. I could tell this house was full of love and somewhat understanding; deep in my heart I knew this was where I needed to be, but I could never fully allow myself the luxury of having a family.

"Thank you for being on time, Ms. Lairn," said Sheila - I assumed she was the mom - then turned her green eyes onto me and added, "And this must be Greyson."

I nodded and stuck out my hand; after a few heartbeats Sheila grasped my hand.

"And so polite!" She let out a hearty laugh. "I can not remember the last time someone shook my hand." Her smile got wider. "You must have been brought up nicely to have such manners."

I dipped my head again, and Sheila released my hand. Brought up nicely? If you call being slammed into a wall for not remembering my manners as being brought up nicely.

"He has excellent manners," said Ms. Lairn, "but he does not talk."

Sheila raised an eyebrow; I lowered my gaze to the red carpet.

"He does not like to be in the room when I talk about this." She frowned when I shot a glare at her. "Would you like to see your new room?" Tha's here way of telling the possible parent or parents about my checkered past. "We can talk while he gets settled."

"O-of course. Help yourself to some tea; I'll show you to your room." Sheila offered a smile to Ms. Lairn. "He'll be fine here. Come on, Greyson." She lead the way up a set of carpeted stairs then down the hall to a door with a 'Keep Out' sigh on it. "This is it." She opened the door and stepped aside so I could enter the room.

It was obvious a teenager occupied it: small television and gaming system on a small table next to a dresser that had clothes spilling out, a half-way made bed was against the wall opposite the television and a fully made bed was next to the window, a closet with random stuff peeking out, and a computer sat on a desk by the closet.

"Your bed is by the window. Kyle is out with his friends somewhere, but he she be home in a while. I know about your past, Greyson," she continued in a soft voice, "but we have already looked past that. You can still stay up here if you want."

I nodded, and Sheila left me to my dark thoughts. I walked across the green carpet to the bed by the window. The soft-looking comforter was a dark blue - like the night sky - and the bedsprings did not squeak when I sat down. My bag slipped off my body; I unzipped it, then dumped my stuff onto the bed. Two pairs of dark jeans, three tightly rolled shirts, two pairs of socks, several boxer shorts, a wad of cash - my life savings - and my pocketknife. I need to run to the store on Sunday to get school supplies and more clothes. Maybe Kyle knows the best place to get clothes.

Shoving my things back into the bag, I felt a wave of fatigue wash over me. I kicked off my sneakers and curled up on top of the covers with my back to the wall.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

"Hey! Hey! Wake up! Mom says dinner's ready!"

I opened my eyes and flinched at the face that was barely two feet away from mine. Instinctively, I swiped at the face.

"Woah!"

A teenager with jet black hair and brown eyes bounced away, holding his hands out in surrender. "Dude! What the hell?"

Regret pulsed through me. I sat up and stared at my socked feet.

"I didn't mean to scare you."

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Mom said you don't talk. Is that true?"

I nodded.

"Oh! I'm Ike," said the teen, lowering his hands. "Are you Greyson? You must be 'cause Mom hasn't shut up about you for weeks."

My face began to heat up. I didn't know Sheila was so interested in having me stay with her family. A hand appeared in my line of vision, and I flinched out of instinct.

"Sorry, man." Ike withdrew his hand. "I guess you're not used to contact."

I shook my head. Heaving myself to my feet, I motioned for the teenager to lead the way. Spices permeated the air as we went downstairs. My stomach rumbled loudly, a reminder that I hadn't eaten since this morning.

"Smells like Mom made lasagna," said Ike as he literally bounced down the last couple steps.

I haven't had a decent lasagna in years, not e my second 'family.' I followed Ike into the comfy-looking kitchen/dining room. Five chairs surrounded a circle table covered in delicious food: a huge pan of lasagna, a bowl of fresh fruit and another with salad mix. Five glasses of iced tea sat beside the plates, and I noticed that one glass was already half-empty.

"Have a seat, boys," said Sheila as she sat down.

Ike sat down in the next to his mother. "You can sit here, Greyson," he said, motioning to the chair beside him.

I flashed him a grateful look then sat down.

"Can you go with Greyson to the mall tomorrow? He needs to get some things."

"Sure, Dad."

"Maybe your friends can go with you."

"Okay. Stan and I want to see if that new videogame is out yet anyway."

Two guys walked into the kitchen, one way older than the other with receding brown hair and a goatee; he must be Sheila's husband Gerald, so the other must be Kyle. He looked about my age with very curly red hair, deep green eyes and a dash of freckled across his nose. His blue jeans were scoffed at the knees and white shirt had flecks of dried blood on the front.

"Gerald, Kyle, this is Greyson." Warmth flooded Sheila's voice as she introduced me.

I hopped to my feet and held out my right hand. The other males looked surprised at my greeting but shook my hand.

"You're a polite young man, aren't you?" asked Gerald.

I sat back down and looked at my plate.

"Are you okay, dude?"

"He does not speak," Sheila explained in a tone that said not to argue. "And Greyson can stay as long as he wants so you should treat him like family.

I guess my name is now Greyson Talon-Brofloski.