1. Phone Call

I never expected the call from Stan.

It had been a long time since we'd exchanged real words. Most nights we talked over IM; a month a go we'd even tried a webcam conversation. But for some reason, phoning each other just never seemed necessary. I guess it came to be this way early on in the year, when I'd call Stan every night and never get hold of him.

"He's at Wendy's," his mom would say, in a voice that was almost sympathetic. "Try again tomorrow night. I'll make sure he's home by six."

But six o'clock would come around, and Stan wouldn't be home. Then, eventually, when he did try to call me I was out rehearsing. Cell phones were useless; aside from the hefty bills that came with them, mine was usually turned off and I assumed Stan's was too.

So, after almost six months of no voice contact, when I picked up the receiver in the common room, I almost didn't recognize his voice.

"Kyle?" he said uncertainly.

"Stan?" I said back, matching his tone.

This was enough of a greeting for us both, and a moment later we dove into conversation. Stan chatted excitedly about the little town of South Park where he was, quite happily, stuck. He told me all about Wendy, which kind of wiped the smile off my face, because I knew what was coming next. As if prompted by my uneasiness, he asked if I had a girlfriend. I said "no, not yet", and he continued to talk as if he'd hardly heard me.

He finished with something about football, but by this time I'd lost most interest. It was cool though, because practically nothing had changed in the six months I'd been away.

"So what's happening with you?" Stan asked finally. "You said something on IM the other night about acting?"

I hesitated, feeling heat rise to my face, and squeaked an affirmative yes.

I'd changed since leaving South Park. My parents told me I was too good for the high school, and so after Christmas they sent me away. I was pissed at first; comparing it to sending me to a death camp. This riled my parents and convinced them all the more that I had to get away from this town and my so-called 'friends'.

Namely Eric Cartman.

I'd had one conversation with Cartman in the six or seven months I'd been here. Stan had set up a four-way chat and it ended with a slaughter of insults being tossed between me and the fat-ass. I still spoke to Kenny sometimes, but he'd drifted away from our group when I was still in South Park. Mentally, he was older; more 'experienced' with the real world. Not that that's a good thing. Let's just say he'd rather drag some hooker into a bedroom and pound her brains out than play a game of basketball with us.

The school I went to was prestigious; perfect for me to gain education and a good career or study place afterwards. I had my little clique of friends, though most of them were girls, and within a week of sharing lunches together, they decided to give me a 'makeover'.

After about a month, my afro was gone and straightened enough that the remaining hair kinked around my ears, still flaming red. The girls took me to a massive mall, where they picked out clothes for me and I reluctantly spent my month's worth of allowance on them. They dressed me up like I was some tall lanky ken doll, but despite my shame, the results were worth it. My new clothes totally beat the old parker and cotton trousers.

A week after my 'makeover', I was asked to join the drama club. I told them that I'd give it a go, and six weeks later nervously arrived for my first stage performance…

Since then, I never looked back. But now, staring down at my pinstripe shirt and black jeans, and the silver chain that hung around my neck, I wondered what my best friend would think seeing me this way.

As if reading my mind, Stan says, "So…summer break is coming up. Are you coming home?"

Ah. That must be why he's calling. "Of course I am dude, I can't wait to see everyone."

The uncertainty in his voice disappears. "Awesome! Do you want me to come pick you up, or have you finally gotten off your ass and taken your driving test?"

I laughed. "I think I might need a ride. I was going to catch a plane, but if you're offering…"

"How far is the drive to California?"

"A couple of days. We could make it a kind of road trip. You should bring the other guys."

"That's a fucking awesome idea dude. I'll ask them tomorrow at school."

"How are they?" I asked. In all our talking about Wendy and football and my fancy-ass school, nobody had mentioned the other two.

"Kenny doesn't wear his hood much anymore," Stan said. "It's kind of weird seeing him like that." Then suddenly he started to laugh, as if remembering something. "Not as weird as Cartman, though."

I rolled my eyes at the name, but my curiosity was piqued. "What's he done now?"

There' was a quick pause as Stan's chuckles died down. "He's completely dropped off the weight. He started working out with me about four months ago, and he's become obsessed. He's buff dude, and he knows it. If you thought he was an asshole before…" he let his sentence hang. Something weird happened in my chest. I think my heart sunk.

How was I going to rip on the fat-ass now?

I looked back down at my clothes, and then the polished shoes on my feet.

"Stan…" I said, drawing out the silence to get his undivided attention. "I've changed too."

There was another chuckle, but it was strained and full of tension. "What do you mean?"

"You know before when you asked me if I had a girlfriend? Well…I do. I have lots of girlfriends. They dressed me up and cut my hair, bought me clothes…" I was stuttering, realizing how utterly stupid I sounded.

Unexpectedly, Stan burst with laughter. "Dude! You're a pimp?" I could tell he was joking, and I tried to laugh with him, but it came out weird.

"I'm not a pimp. I just…don't get along with the guys very well."

"Oh," he said, drawing out the word. "I get it."

"Get what?" I asked.

"It's cool dude," he said, seriously. "If you're…that way…I'm cool with it."

"What way?" I demanded. What a dumb question.

"You know. Gay."

"Stan!" I shrieked his name so loud that the students watching TV turned their heads to look at me. I felt my face go red. That was a very, very gay outcry. I took a deep breath and lowered my voice. "I'm not gay, okay? I just like the company of girls better. That sounds wrong…look…all I'm saying is that I look different. I just wanted to tell you so I don't freak you out or anything."

Stan laughed again at this. "Don't worry, dude. I just said I'm fine with you being gay, so I'm sure I won't freak out over a simple change of appearance." He sounded a little embarrassed, and I smiled. I wanted to tell him how much of a good friend he was, and how I missed talking to him and hanging out in person. But I figured it'd just cause more tension after the 'gay' remark. I wasn't gay in any way, but now that he mentioned it, it'd probably come across that way to the whole of South Park.

I wondered a moment if I should ditch my metro clothes in exchange for my old mountain-gear, just while I was in South Park. I was sure I still had that green trapper hat somewhere, though I doubted it'd fit my sixteen-year-old head. It was getting tight when I was twelve. Then again…I didn't have the 'fro anymore.

"Two weeks 'til break," Stan mused. "I'll tell the guy's tomorrow we're going on a road trip. I'll get the car into a mechanics. Dude, do you think you could…" Stan hesitated and drifted off.

"I'll pay you back for the gas," I said, unfazed. "Gas and rooms. The fat-ass can cover snacks, though."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. I don't need to buy a ticket and take a boring-ass plane ride anymore."

"Thanks, man."

I knew Stan didn't have a lot of money. He wasn't anywhere near as poor as Kenny, but all the money he got from his part-time job went into his hunk-of-shit car.

"Look, I gotta go," Stan continued. "Email me the directions to your school and your dorm and whatever, and I'll let you know when I have everything organized."

We said our goodbyes and I hung up.

Even after I'd walked back to my room and locked the door behind me, I felt the familiar tickle of butterflies in my stomach. It was just like before I went out on stage; that restive, nauseating feeling.

They were my best friends, I knew. But that didn't help the feeling.

I'd changed since coming here. I was like a whole new person. Had they changed, too?

A/N: Short chapter, I know, but it was more an introduction than anything. Read on to chapter two – I hope you enjoy! Feel free to give feedback, it'll help motivate me and improve my writing :)