Short blonde hair. Big blue eyes. Petite physique. Natural red lips, thin. Rosy cheeks and frost nipped thin nose. Eleanor was new to South Park High and had on a large cream colored hand knit sweater, a gift from her mother, and black stockings. Large hand made earrings dangled from her ears and swayed with the rhythm of her movement along with her too-large-for-her-body backpack that hit her at her lower back. Her old ballet type shoes, that loosely resembled the color of the wool that drowned out her skinny waist, squeaked when she walked. She stuck out in the crowd like a zebra among horses.

"Hi," a girl behind Eleanor said.

"Uh," she said said. What was meant to be said was "Oh hi, nice to meet you. I'm new here", but surprise that someone talked to her took the words right out of her mouth.

This girl had long dark hair and neatly trimmed bangs that made a bowl shape around her scrawny face with a purple beret tipped to the side on top her inimitable head. Everything about her screamed perfection.

"I'm assuming your new, because I've never seen you around here and I know everyone here," she bragged sweetly.

"Yeah, just moved here."

"What's your first class?"

Eleanor fished a crumpled piece of paper from her bra. Her handwriting was sprawled across it in blue ink.

"French four," the blonde girl read then looked up into this pompous girl's chocolate eyes.

"Four? What grade are you in...?" she asked surprised.

"Uh, I'm a sophomore. My mom lived in France for a few years and taught me when I was young. I told the attendance lady I already knew the language, but she said I needed the class to graduate next year."

"That is so cool. Very exotic."

"I never lived in France, my m-"

"My name is Wendy, I have Home Ec first which is a few doors down from French, I can walk you there,"

"I know where it is, thanks," but right after she said that she realized it probably was more a act of friendship more than kindness. Even if she isn't the best choice for a friend, she did make an effort to talk to her and that was a very nice gesture.

"Oh," Wendy sounded a bit dejected.

"But," Wendy perked up a bit, "I need to get my books for all my classes and I don't know where the library is," she lied. She did need the books, but the day before, her and her mom had toured the whole campus and therefore knew where everything was now.

"Oh! We can go get those right now," and just like that, Wendy had linked arms with the resisting girl and dragged her through the crowd of people.

"Maybe we could just get them after school or during lunch?" Eleanor panted, trying to keep up.

"Don't be silly, we have time"

They moved left and right, in and out of clumps of people. Eleanor was surprised they hadn't hit anyone when BAM her whole body came tumbling down on an innocent bystander.

He was short, like her. His blonde hair stuck up in all sorts of directions and he was shaking.

"I'm so sorry!" Eleanor apologized. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry"

"Watch where you're going," a voice scorned, threateningly.

Towering over her was a ruggedly handsome boy with jet black hair and a blue chullo hat on. His glare radiated intensely, singling out the now cowering weakling.

"I," she rose from the floor, "I said sorry." This boy made her feel uneasy. He took his friend's hand and with one fluid tug of his arm, brought the squirming blond to his feet. The tall raven looked at his friend intently, his gaze transformed to affection. The smaller boy didn't notice for he was staring at the reckless individual who had pushed him on the ground. Dull pain pulsed in his right arm.

"ACK- What do you want? Nnngh, I-I..Craig! I'm not safe!" He tugged and pulled on his shirt, a green button down with misaligned buttoning.

"Let's go, uh-" Wendy stopped, realizing she never asked for her new friend's name.

"Eleanor."

"C'mon Eleanor, Craig can be a bit...moody. And Tweek...well...Let's just go."

"Yeah, okay," and she let Wendy lead her through the crowd again, her eyes lingering on the queer boys The tall one was brushing dirt off the other and started talking to him keeping a stoic expression. He leaned in really close and the blond blushed.

"Who's who?"

"Tweek is the blonde, Craig, the freakish hunk."

Eleanor laughed. She didn't like him very much from her first encounter, but she had to admit he was gorgeous. Even his crooked teeth were just an imperfect perfection to his hunk-like being.

"He's always hovering around Tweek. It's quite sad really,"

"Why does he do that?"

"I don't know, I've never asked. I'm not really friends with him or, yeah."

"What's wrong with that Tweek kid?"

"His parents own a coffee place. It's a shitty run down cafe next to Harbucks. Anyway, he's been drinking that shit since like first grade and he has ADD..I think that's what Stan told me."

"Stan's a friend of yours?"

"As if. We dated in like elementary school. His friend is dating my friend Bebe. You'll meet her at lunch."

"Ah." Eleanor didn't really know what to say. She didn't know any of these people and the more Wendy talked, the more Eleanor found her to be a pretentious bitch.

"Here we are," Wendy smiled. She looked at her and opened the doors, ushering her in.

The librarian was s shrewd old woman with moon cut glasses. Her hair was tied back and if you looked a certain way, she looked bald. Her lips were pursed in what looked to be a permanent "shushing" expression.

We got the books and signed them out using my ID number. The high school was too broke to assign actual IDs so everyone had to memorize numbers to do any type of function like a dance or a football game or check out a book. They were heavy and only one fit in her backpack. Wendy offered to carry half, which left Eleanor carrying two.

"Why don't we put these in your locker?" Wendy suggested, but just then, the bell rang and people started rushing to class.

You could see the terror in Wendy's eyes with the notion of being late.

"I've got it from here," Eleanor said, taking the three books from Wendy.

Wendy took off, saying as she ran, "I'll find you at lunch!"

Eleanor walked briskly to her locker, which seemed as if it was on the other side of the planet, and dumped off all the books, except French, then walked to her class.

The teacher didn't mind that Eleanor was late, assuming she had just gotten mixed up in the "hustle and bustle". She seated her in the back, the only available seat.

All of class, Eleanor just doodled in her notebook. She didn't get called on, but even if she did she would have known the answer anyway.

The bell rang rather quickly and everyone got out of the classroom as soon as possible. Eleanor checked her schedule again and found her Art class.

She was the one of the first kids there and sat down at a random desk.

"Ahem,"

Looking up, the blonde saw a man with grey hair and a bushy white beard looking down at her. He had that grandfather type quality about him, someone you could watch an old time movie with and listen to jazz.

"Who might you be?"

"Oh, I'm Eleanor Winston. I'm a new student."

"Well, Miss Winston, this seat is being used by another student. I'll have you seat over here," and gestured to a desk two rows back.

"Ok, thanks."

He walked off, humming a tune that Eleanor recognized oh too well. Eleanor Rigby by The Beatles. She had long since given up telling people that she wasn't named after that lady in the song nor that she didn't even care for the song.

Students filled in and someone caught her eye. The quirky small blonde boy from before. Tweek. He had a seat in the far back corner and one could only assume he picked that stop himself to avert attention from his short outbursts of sound.

He looked over and saw her staring at him. His eyes widened in fright and he turned to face the wall. He muttered to himself, but Eleanor couldn't make out what he said.

"Hi," she waved at him.

No answer.

She got up and walked over.

"Hi,"

"Nnngh,"

"I'm sorry I bumped into you earlier,"

"I-I don't want a-any, nnngh, trouble. J-just leave-ACK, me alone,"

"I'm not trying to start any trouble either. I'm apologizing,"

"Y-you're not going to do anything, bad? ACK!" He twitched in his seat, choosing to look at his shoes.

"Of course not," she pouted, "What would make you think that?"

"ACK! Nothing! S-sorry," he squirmed in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. He took a thermos from his backpack and drank. The smell of coffee drenched the air with a bitter intensity.

"I like your hair, do you style it yourself?" Eleanor asked, trying to spark conversation.

He looked confused, "W-what do you mean?"

"Your...nevermind."

He looked at her quickly, but turned to his coffee and swished it around in the thermos a bit until he took another swig. He shook so much is looked like he was vibrating.

Eleanor walked back to her seat and by that time, all the kids were in the class and the grandpa man started talking.

The class was very interesting. Her mom was an artist and so Eleanor had been acclimated to the subject for a long time. The teacher, Mr. Faulk, was talking about different artists and how to go about picking your style. He mentioned some well known artists that she had heard of or had seen on covers of books laying around the house and talked about how they came across their really got Eleanor excited about the class, but by the time the class ended, she didn't get to draw anything.

Slightly disappointed, she walked off to the cafeteria and picked an empty table.