A/N: Hey, dudes. This is my first South Park fanfiction that I'm actually going to post anywhere so constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. If I can't promise anything else, I can promise proper grammar and spelling. This is just a basic introduction to this story, and there are no definite pairings yet because I'm trying to keep the focus of the story on the growth of the characters, but this will be rated T for its vulgar language that some may find offensive.

I hope you guys like this story, and if you have any questions, feel free to review or PM me

Enjoy.

I don't want to be here, the thought was loud and obtrusive in Kyle's mind as he stared at the intimidating gates of Journey's Ranch. It was a camp for adolescents aged 13 to 17 with disabilities, and as arrogant as it sounded, Kyle didn't feel like he was as disabled as the other teenagers there. These were children that couldn't learn properly, couldn't move their bodies, couldn't function in society- and Kyle felt that he could do all of those things exceptionally well. He was taking college courses at a local, community college, he had written a novel that was in the process of being published, he had even studied abroad in Israel, and he was only 16 years old.

It wasn't until he looked to his left and saw his mother signing to him that he was brought back to the harsh reality that he had elective mutism, and he hadn't spoken a word to anyone since he was 9 years old. He breathed a sigh through his nose before smiling at his mother and hoisting the strap of his bag over his shoulder, reading her hand signs to mean, "Aren't you excited? You're going to make so many new friends here!"

Honestly, Kyle hated that no one ever really spoke to him. His mother made it clear to everyone in his hometown that they were only to use sign language to Kyle aside from his teachers, of course. Initially, Kyle was offended when everyone stopped speaking to him all at once and assumed that it was a punishment for his silence. As time passed, though, Kyle realized that his mother only did that so he would feel equal to everyone else. He didn't need to speak if no one else did because he was still every bit as good as everyone else. Still, he felt isolated from the world when his family would abruptly stop speaking to each other in favor of signing to each other the moment he entered a room.

The camp was breath-taking, to say the very least. There were enormous builings towards the front, and Kyle could see pastures and horses off in the distance. The reservation was surrounded by lush forestry and beautiful flowers, cobblestone paths leading to each individual building and cabin. It was obvious that no expense had been spared to make the camp a welcoming environment, and Kyle felt guilt pool in his gut when he wondered what his parents had paid to send him there for the summer.

"All of the other campers are in their cabins right now. We're waiting for everyone to arrive before we begin the assembly in the auditorium." A female supervisor informed Kyle and his mother when they entered the front office, and Kyle noted that her name tag read, "Wendy." Her hair was a shiny ebony, her eyes were a deep brown, and her skin was light in a way that Kyle wasn't used to seeing back in California. "Ms. Victoria is in her office right now, Mrs. Broflovski, so if you would like to go speak to her before you leave, that's fine." Wendy continued, and Kyle swallowed hard. He'd never been away from his mother for very long, and it was just hitting him that he wouldn't be seeing her again until August when school started again.

"Oh yes, thank you, Wendy." Sheila chirped, turning around to face Kyle and give him a warm smile. Her hazel eyes were shiny with tears, and she pursed her lips before she hugged him to her bosom. "You be a good boy here, Kyle. Ma is just a phone call away if you need her, okay? Have a good time, Bubbeh." Sheila whispered, hugging him tighter before pulling back and walking down a long, narrow hallway. Kyle felt a lump form in his throat as he listened to her heels click away, but he scolded himself for being such a wimp and straightened up.

"Are you excited for a great summer, Kyle?" Wendy asked him, snapping him from his thoughts. She was smiling brightly at him, and he worried that he was smiling stupidly at her, too, because the way she smiled made the corners of his mouth instantly jerk up. He nodded to her and quickly signed, "I hope I make friends here." Wendy's expression softened in response, and Kyle immediately felt embarrassed because he must've come across as a loner- which he was, but he didn't like people pitying him for it. "I'm sure you'll make plenty of friends here, Kyle. You've already made one." Wendy winked at him and patted his shoulder, and Kyle was thankful that his cheeks were already sunburned enough to conceal his blush.

"Shall we walk to your cabin?" Wendy offered after she scribbled something down on her clipboard, smiling in satisfaction when Kyle gave her a nod and picked up his bag again. "Alright," She motioned for Kyle to follow her out a door that led to yet another gate. "We like to ensure our campers' safety so we have this gate surrounding the cabins." Wendy explained, and Kyle vaguely noted that the gate was not as intimidating as the first one; not even as tall as the gates he scaled on a regular basis to get to otherwise inaccessible parts of the beach near his home.

As they walked, Wendy continued to tell him about all of the wonderful things he'd be doing at camp that summer, but Kyle got the feeling that she had simply memorized the text on the brochure so he tuned her out in lieu of trying to sign his reaction or attempting to create comical, facial expressions in response. Though, he jumped in surprise when he heard a boy exclaim something about a "shemale" when he and Wendy passed a cabin. Blinking in surprise, Kyle turned to Wendy and signed, "What?" Wendy pursed her lips to keep from chuckling at his puzzled expression and shook her head.

"That's the cabin for the boys with Tourette's Syndrome. Don't think anything of it, Kyle." Wendy waved her hand dismissively and ushered him towards another set of cabins that were located farther away from the main building than the others. Kyle scowled indignantly and self consciously tucked a scarlet curl behind his ear. His mother refused to let him get a haircut since long hair was the style in California, and his wild, fiery hair fell in waves all the way to his lower back so he kept it pulled up in a bun and often tried to hide it under a hat to avoid looking so androgynous. "Your hair is fine, Kyle. People in Colorado just aren't used to seeing that kind of style." Wendy assured him, patting his back before she jotted down something else on her clip board.

"Here we are. You are in cabin 12 with Stan Marsh, Eric Cartman, and Kenneth McCormick." Wendy told him, swinging open the screen door of the cabin and motioning for him to enter. "When the trumpet comes over the intercom, go to the auditorium for your orientation. It's right beside the main building we just came from." Wendy flashed a brief smile before she jogged back towards the main building, taking all of Kyle's confidence with her.

"You gonna come in or not?" A deep, raspy voice behind Kyle sent shivers down his spine, and he spun around to see a talking bundle of blankets on a bed toward the front of the cabin. Nodding even though he was sure the bundle couldn't see his face, Kyle stepped inside and closed the door, moving over to the bed across from the one with the mound of blankets because the two toward the back of the room had the other boys' belongings on them. The mound moved as soon as he did, though, and Kyle was met with two, round, azure eyes. "You're Kyle, right? My name is Stan. We have two other roommates, but those jerk offs are trying to see over the fence to the girls' cabins." Stan rolled his eyes, stretching out his arms and rolling his shoulders.

Stan was something of a spectacle to Kyle, who was from the Land of Spray Tans and Cosmetic Surgery. His hair was dark as night and came to his ears, curling slightly around his face and sticking up in odd places. His skin was sunkissed in a way that spray tans couldn't emulate, freckles scattered over his nose and cheeks, and he looked pretty muscular from what Kyle could see.

"You, uh. You don't talk much, do you?" Stan asked, giving Kyle a lop-sided smile. Kyle pursed his lips and shook his head, signing, "I can't speak." Stan's eyes instantly widened, and Kyle assumed that Stan was surprised that he was mute, but that assumption was thwarted when Stan's face burned bright red, and he said, "I, um. I don't know sign language." Oh Moses, Kyle thought, panic beginning to set in his chest. He hadn't thought about the possibility that his fellow campers wouldn't speak sign language, and as if a switch was flipped, Kyle felt completely cut off from the world. Seeming to sense Kyle's despair, Stan began frantically rummaging through a small, blue bag adjacent his bed.

"Oh, wait, but I have something you can use! My mom gave it to me so I could write down my schedules, and it was Hell to get the supervisors to let me have the markers- But yeah! Here," Stan revealed a small, dry erase board and a pack of markers, tossing them to Kyle and giving him a dopey smile when the redhead took the items gratefully. After a few seconds of furious squeaking, Kyle held up the white board with sloppily written letters on it, reading, "THANKS." Stan smiled and shook his head, tossing the blanket off of himself.

"Nah, don't mention it. It must suck to not be able to talk." Stan commented, and Kyle silently nodded his agreement, pursing his lips a moment before scribbling down, "What's your disability?" and flipping the board around to show Stan. "Heh," Stan chuckled bitterly, eyes downcast as he reached over the edge of the bed and pulled out a folded up wheelchair. "I got in a football accident 6 months ago. It fucked up my spine, and now I have partial paraplegia." he mumbled, staring down at his legs and subconsciously picking at the fabric of his jeans that were covering them. "I was the star quarterback for my high school's football team. I had football scholarships and everything, and now..." Stan sighed, swallowing audibly. His attention was deterred from himself, though, when Kyle began scribbling noisily on the white board.

"You get all the best parking spaces now, though," the board read when Kyle held it out to show Stan, and he looked so sincere and hopeful that Stan couldn't help but laugh and shake his head. "Yeah, I guess," he answered Kyle, grinning.

The door swung open just then, and two teenagers obnoxiously shoved their way in through the door. One, Kyle noted, was intimidating in stature and girth, built like a linebacker and lumbering like one, too. His hair looked to be the same length all the way around as if he cut it himself, and it was a color that Kyle associated with caramel. Vaguely, Kyle also noticed that the boy's nose was a bit small in proportion to the rest of his face, namely his large mouth and sizeable eyes. The other boy was far less interesting to look at, in Kyle's opinion, face hidden by the fabric of some ratty, orange parka that was covered in unidentifiable stains.

"How is it that out of 48 girls, none of them are hot babes?" the larger boy exclaimed to Stan, throwing his hands up in frustration and going to sit on the bed nearest the bathroom in the corner of the room. "Looks like it's gonna be a sausage fest from here on out, boys." he sighed, and Kyle cringed inwardly at his choice of wording.

"Nothing wrong with that." the other boy replied as he pulled down the hood of his parka and winked at Kyle with tantalizing, sapphire eyes. Kyle rolled his eyes, choosing not to look into that comment. "You're Kyle, right? My name's Kenny." the boy with the messy blonde hair, gapped teeth, and freckles introduced himself, shooting Kyle a lazy sort of smile and running a hand through his tussled hair.

"Watch it, Kinny. I'm in charge of you, and I'm not gonna be held responsible if you catch some weird, Jew curse." The boy, that Kyle had determined to be Eric, warned Kenny, and Kyle's head whipped around so he was glaring into the dark eyes of the larger boy seated across the room on a bed that didn't even look like it was made to hold someone of his size. How does he even know that I'm Jewish? Kyle questioned, huffing through his nose and watching as the other boy's mouth widened into a smug grin. Without thinking, Kyle turned to Stan and signed, "How does he know my religion?"

Stan looked to be at a loss, scratching the back of his head, and Kyle almost reached for his white board, but Cartman's quick moving hands stopped him dead in his tracks. "I read your file." Eric signed with ease, making Kyle's lips purse while Kenny and Stan stared between them in silent confusion.

"You know, I've always wanted to be in the same camp as a Jew. Under different circumstances, of course, but still." Eric taunted, lips parting into a grin. In the blink of an eye, Kyle was on his feet, as was Cartman, standing in front of the taller boy with his fist twisted in the collar of his tee shirt.

"Whoa, whoa," Kenny laughed nervously, rushing over and attempting to get between Kyle and Eric but ultimately failing to pry Kyle's hand away from Eric. "Guys, chill. Is this any way to spend your first day at camp?" Kenny asked, and Kyle vaguely considered punching him, too.

"I don't have a problem. Do you, Kahl?" Eric asked, feigning innocence and raising his eyebrows in question. For a split second, Kyle's fist tightened, and his muscles tensed with the need to release his anger, but the sound of a trumpet sounded throughout the camp, and he released Cartman with a scowl.

"Good," Kenny sighed, not even endeavouring to hide the relief in his voice as he tossed his hood back up. "Let's get to the auditorium, yeah?" Kyle's nose twitched, and he shot Kenny a brief, indignant glance before going over to help Stan with his wheelchair. It seemed as though both his willingness to speak and his patience would be tested that summer.

The assembly/orientation was nothing special; exactly what Kyle had anticipated for a standard welcoming. Ms. Victoria, the camp director, had simply introduced them to the camp supervisors, told them their goals for their time at the camp, and explained to them all of the activities offered to them by the camp including equestrian classes, swimming sessions, group therapy, hiking, arts and crafts, and more. Kyle wasn't particularly interested in the activities aside from the arts and crafts sessions, but he supposed that he could give the other classes a chance since his parents were paying for the whole experience.

Stan had become increasingly more reserved as the assembly went on, gaze focused on his lap the entire time, and by the time it was over and they were dismissed for lunch in the mess hall, Stan had gone completely silent. No one aside from Kyle seemed to notice, though, so Kyle settled for trying to get answers out of Stan when he could get back to their cabin and to the white board.

"I'm really excited for those arts and crafts classes, f-fellas!" a younger boy with light blonde hair and soft blue eyes exclaimed at the lunch table, rubbing his knuckles together in a way that made Kyle grimace considering they looked to be raw from his excessive rubbing. The boy had introduced himself to the group as Butters, and he admitted that he was sent there for debilitating anxiety and paranoia, though Kyle could've guessed that without Butters having to admit to it. "Why are you here, Eric?" Butters asked after no one really made an attempt to converse over his previous statement.

"Because they made a mistake with my diagnosis and sent me here." Eric answered harshly, stuffing a chicken nugget into his mouth and making Butters tap his foot anxiously.

"Oh, but- What do you think they misdiagnosed you with?" Butters inquired, staring down at his tray of food and continuing to tap his foot, much to Kyle's annoyance.

"Asperger's." Eric muttered bitterly, finishing the remainder of his food and moving the crumbs around on his tray with a fork.

"Aw, well that's not s'bad." Butters assured Eric, flashing a tentative smile before turning his attention to the redhead who was childishly attempting to build a pyramid with his grapes. "What about you, Kyle?" Kyle felt his throat dry up, but before he could think about how to respond to that, Eric was already on the case.

"Kyle has elective mutism." he answered with a smirk, and Kyle was unsure of whether to feel relieved or pissed off that Cartman answered for him.

"Elective mutism? Ah, I think I watched a," Kenny started to say, but he paused and yawned groggily before continuing. "documentary about that. It's where you, like, don't speak to anyone outside of your family or some shit, right?" Kenny asked, staring intently at Kyle, who awkwardly shook his head, bright curls bouncing around his face.

"No, it's where someone refuses to speak to anyone." Eric informed Kenny, audaciously snatching a chicken nugget from Kyle's tray while Kyle rolled his eyes in response.

"What?" Stan spoke up for the first time during their lunch session, sitting up straighter in his wheelchair with his brow furrowed. "So it's not that you don't have the ability to speak- You just choose not to?" Stan questioned, looking to Kyle for answers. Kyle felt the color drain from his face, and he looked between Cartman and Stan helplessly. "What the fuck?" Stan hissed, shoving his tray away suddenly and making Butters jump in surprise.

"Dude, Stan, chill out. What's the matter?" Kenny asked the fuming raven, touching his shoulder in a futile effort to sate his anger. He recoiled immediately, though, when Stan smacked his hand away, glaring at him before turning his glare on Kyle.

"What's the matter?" he laughed humourlessly, shaking his head incredulously. "He chooses to have a fucking disability. I wish I could just choose whether or not I could walk, and I bet Butters wishes he could choose whether or not he would have panic attacks, but we don't have that luxury." Stan snapped loudly, lifting up the brakes on his wheelchair angrily. Kyle's emerald eyes were wide with perplexity, and his hands shook in his lap, heartbeat bouncing between his temples. He'd never had anyone react that way towards his mutism, and he was too stunned to be anything other than offended.

"Stan, calm down, okay?" Butters murmured, furiously rubbing his knuckles together and looking around the lunch room at the other teenagers whose gazes were focused on their table.

"Whatever, I'm going back to the cabin to take a nap." Stan muttered, jaw tight as he wheeled himself away from the table and out of the mess hall. Kyle's ears continued to ring, chest tight as he stared at the doors to the mess hall.

"Awe, did you two break up already? Summer love is so fleeting." Eric teased, snickering, and Kyle could vaguely make out the sounds of Kenny and Butters scolding the offending teen as Kyle tuned them all out.

He'd never been away from his mother for very long before, and he was beginning to understand the reason for that.

A/N: Well, that's it for chapter one. Let's see if anyone actually reads this. Everything in this chapter is there for a reason (even if it just seems like pointless information), and I have a lot planned for this story so expect longer and more eventful chapters in the future. Again, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated (as are reviews in general). I'll try to updates as soon as I can~