Riley Mayer sighed, looking forlornly around the deserted bus stop where she stood. Life was so unfair, she thought. Why of all places, did her mother have to take a job in a tiny mountain town in the middle of nowhere? Hadn't she even considered what a move like this would do to her only daughter? To be fair her dad had moved out, and her mother had been unable to pay the rent on their apartment, but there had to be available jobs in places other than South Park, Colorado.

The nine-year-old girl shivered miserably, pulling her white ski hat down low over her shoulder length dark red hair. She had thought that New York was bad in the winter, but it was like Florida compared to this place. More than anything she just wanted to go home.

"No way, fatass," a boy's voice startled her out of her thoughts.

"Ya-huh, it's true," a whiny voice shot back, "I saw it on the Internet, you guys, and the internet never lies."

"Oh goddamnit you've got to be kidding me," the first voice muttered.

"Kyle, do you need some pamrpin? Are you on your period again?"

"Mmph-mmh. Mm-hmm-hmm-mph," came a muffled voice.

"Ew, gross, Kenny!"

The muffled boy laughed.

Out of the corner of her eye, Riley saw four boys walking towards her. The largest was wearing a red sweater with a turquoise and yellow poof-ball hat, and it was clear that he was the one who the others had been referring to as "fatass." The boy closest to him wore a green ushanka, an orange jacket and a scowl, and Riley could only assume that this was Kyle. The third boy trailed slightly behind them, wearing a bored expression, a brown jacket and a blue and red poof-ball hat. And the last boy wore an orange parka, with the hood pulled tight, covering his entire face with the exception of a pair of startling blue eyes.

"Dude, what the fuck," the large boy stopped, looking in Riley's direction, "what's a girl doing here?" He stepped closer, peering at her, "And she's a ginger! Weak!"

"Shut up, fatass, she's not a ginger. Her hair's darker than mine, and she barely has any freckles!" Kyle snapped, glaring at the boy with the red sweater.

"Fine, day walker, whatever," the fat boy muttered.

"I'm Kyle," the boy with the green hat introduced himself, "sorry about Cartman. Don't mind him, he's a fat fuck."

"Ey!"

"I'm Riley. Nice to meet you," she grinned, "and trust me I don't care about him."

"Dumb bitch," Cartman muttered, earning nothing more than a laugh from the redheaded girl.

"I'm Stan," the boy with the red poof-ball hat stepped forward, "and this is Kenny."

"Mmph. Mm-mmph-mmh."

"Dude, sick!"

"What did he say?" Riley asked, tilting her head in confusion. She didn't know how the others could understand him with that hood on.

"I don't think you wanna know," Stan replied, while Kenny laughed.

"Oh, alright," she shrugged.

"So, are you new around here?" Stan asked, making polite conversation as the five waited for the bus to pull up.

"What gave it away?" she smirked.

"Right, that was a dumb question. So where are you from?"

"New York."

"Dude, no way!" Kyle interjected, "I'm from New Jersey!"

"Really?" Riley looked him over, scrutinizing his appearance, "I never would've known."

"Yeah," Cartman laughed, butting into the conversation, "Kyle's such dumb Jew."

"Shut the fuck up you fat piece of shit!"

"So," Stan continued, seemingly immune to the constant bickering, "what brought you here?"

"Um," she started, but was cut off by a large, yellow school bus screeching to a halt in front of them. She shrugged, following the four boys onto the bus.

Inside the bus was noisy and filled with kids throwing things and laughing loudly. All the seats seemed to be taken, except for one next to a small blonde boy in a blue sweater.

"Excuse me," Riley asked, "can I sit here?"

"Well, sure!" The boy cried, his enthusiasm catching her off guard, "you must be new around here. Golly, we don't get new people very often. I-I'm Leopold but everyone calls me Butters."

"Nice to meet you, Butters," Riley replied, trying not to let the boy's rambling irritate her. He seemed nice enough and she didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"Do you like Terrence and Phillip," he was asking excitedly, "Golly I love Terrence and Phillip. But I'm not allowed to watch too much TV or my parents ground me. Yes sir I need to learn my lesson and start doing something with my life, well-"

He was cut off by the bus screeching to a halt, throwing all of the kids forward.

"SIT DOWN," the disheveled driver screamed, "AND SHUT UP!"

The rest of the ride to school was completely silent.

"So, Riley," Principal Victoria looked up from the papers on her desk, adjusting her glasses, "this must be quite a change for you. How do you like South Park so far?"

"It's nice," Riley replied politely, not wanting to seem rude.

"That's good," the woman said distractedly, "so you're in the fourth grade, which means you'll be in Mr. Garrison's class."

Riley had to restrain herself from voicing her surprise that there was only one class for the entire grade. At her old school there were five different fourth grade classes.

"You can come with me now, dear. Grab your things."

Riley obliged, grabbing her backpack and throwing it over one shoulder. She'd left her grey jacket on, since the inside of the school was unexpectedly cold.

"Here we are," Principal Victoria announced, "I'll just let Mr. Garrison know you're here."

"Mr. Garrison," she called out, opening the door and stepping inside the classroom, "your new student is here."

"What?" a balding man in a green jacket looked over, seemingly annoyed that his lesson had been interrupted, "Oh, alright, send her in."

"Now, children, today is a very special day," Mr. Garrison addressed the students, who were all peering at Riley with interest.

"Today we have a new student," he continued in his slightly twangy accent.

Riley wanted to fall through the floor. She hated being the new kid, especially in a town as small as this one. Everyone seemed to know each other, and she was the odd one out.

"Now, some of you know what it's like to be the new kid in town," the teacher was saying, "so I want you all to take special care to make her feel welcome. I want you all to meet your new classmate-" he paused, looking at Riley for a moment, before leaning down and whispering, "uh, what's your name again?"

"Riley," she muttered, feeling her face turn red from embarrassment.

"Say hi to Riley."

"Hi, Riley," the class chorused.

"And where are you from Riley?"

"New York," she answered, wishing she could just sit down already.

"That's nice," Mr. Garrison replied, "why don't you take your seat, Riley? There's an empty one over next to Bebe."

Grateful to get out of the spotlight, Riley hurried over to the only empty seat in the room, next to a girl with curly, blonde hair wearing a red sweater. The seat also happened to be in front of Kenny, the boy in the orange parka, and next to Cartman, the fat boy in the turquoise and yellow hat.

"Alright now children, as I was saying, what do you think Barnaby Jones meant when he said 'this is not a victimless crime'?"

The class remained silent.

"Children, were you paying attention?"

"Mr. Garrison," a boy, Riley remembered his name was Kyle, spoke up, "we've been watching Barnaby Jones repeats for eight days now. It's hard to keep paying attention."

"Oh, well excuse me, Kyle," Mr. Garrison spat, "why don't you just forget what Barnaby Jones has to say? Why don't you not pay attention to Barnaby Jones and then let's see how far you get in society!"

Riley shifted in her seat, trying not to think about how incredibly different this was from her old school. Did this teacher- Mr. Garrison- ever actually teach?

"Now," the teacher said, "we're going to watch episode 203, Barnaby Under Siege."

There was a collective groan from the class.

"Oh, be quiet and pay attention!"

"Hey, Riley right?" a girl's voice came from behind her as she closed her locker door.

"Yeah?" she turned to see the blonde girl she'd been sitting next to in class –Bebe if she remembered correctly- and another girl with straight black hair, wearing a purple jacket and a pink beret.

"We just wanted to invite you to sit with us at lunch," the girl with the pink beret said.

"Oh, thanks," Riley smiled, "that's really nice of you."

"No problem," Bebe replied, "us girls have to stick together, you know."

"You mean you don't sit with any guys?"

The two girls laughed, as though Riley had said something tremendously funny.

"Of course not," said Bebe, "boys are so immature. I mean, we date and stuff but we never hang out with them."

This, Riley thought, was one strange place. Back home she'd hung out with mostly guys. She just got along better with them, since she shared most of their interests. Riley loved playing sports and video games, and watching Terrance and Phillip. She could care less about clothes, hair and makeup, preferring to just wear what was comfortable.

But she never thought about dating. Back home no one started dating until they were at least thirteen. Everyone her age thought all that romance stuff was gross.

"Like, Wendy and Stan have been going out since last year," Bebe said, gesturing to the black haired girl who Riley assumed was Wendy.

"And I've always thought Kyle had such a hot ass," Bebe added.

"What?" Riley sputtered, wondering if she'd heard correctly.

"Oh yeah, I could sleep for days on those perked cheeks, let me tell you."

"Dude," Riley grimaced, "sick."

"Oh, hey Annie," Bebe greeted another blonde girl as they sat down in the cafeteria, "love your shoes."

"Thanks, I got them on sale."

"No way, how much?" Wendy asked.

"Like ten dollars."

"Oh my god, did you guys hear about Kelly?" a girl with red hair asked, joining them at the table.

"Ugh, I can't stand her anymore. She thinks she's so cool all of a sudden." Bebe rolled her eyes.

"She's such a slut," a brunette agreed.

"I heard she made out with eight different boys in one minute," the redhead gossiped.

"Oh my god she's such a whore," said Wendy. "What do you think, Riley?"

"Umm…"

Riley had no idea how to respond to that. She didn't even know this girl. And besides, she wasn't even sure she knew what a slut or a whore was. It was kind of ironic that these small town girls were so much more experienced.

"I don't even know who you're talking about," she said.

"Right," said Bebe, "so Riley I'll bet the shopping in New York is like, amazing."

Riley had an urge to bang her head against the table, but she was sure that would make a terrible first impression.