Disclaimer: I wanted to try something sort of AU-ish. I don't know how well this is going to work out. I hope it doesn't suck.
I do not own South Park.
I turned the volume up on my mp3 player when I heard Ike launch into his new favorite rant campaign. This month's subject was actually a legitimate one. Well, for him at least. Shortly before sixth grade, my dad was offered a big position in some company in Denver. I guess they were pretty deep in some legal stuff and needed someone majorly skilled to get them out of it. Consequently, we moved to Denver.
"But I grew up here! All my friends are here! This is where... this is where my life is!" Ike's wail was loud enough to cut through my music. We'd been in Denver for almost five years. "You guys can't do this to me." Ike's tearful plea rang familiar. I'd argued the same thing when we left. I turned off my mp3 player and got up from the couch. I waited until mom and dad left in frustration before talking.
"Hey dude."
"What?" He muttered, wiping his eyes and nose.
"I wish we were staying too. South Park's a total shit hole, but you're not going to be able to talk them out of this. They don't need dad at the office anymore and the only place that's going to take him back after that mess is the firm in South Park." I put a hand on his shoulder, but he slapped it away.
"It's not fair! Why do we have to move around just because of dad's stupid job? He's a lawyer. He's supposed to stay in one place!" Ike sniffled for a while. Eventually he turned to hug me. I pulled him close. "So we're moving tomorrow?"
"Yep."
"God damnit."
It was weird to see South Park again. I think the weirdest thing about it was that hardly anything changed. I even wound up moving back in to my old room in my old house.
"Did you let your little friends know that you'd be coming back?" My mom asked between breaths as she and I struggled to carry my desk upstairs.
"Huh? Oh, no."
"Why not?" Her questioning was short because her breath was short too.
"We don't really talk that much." It's not that anything had happened. We just grew apart. After a while, there is only so much you can say to someone who is living a totally different life in a totally different place. You run out of things in common. Cartman and I fell out of contact first. Well, no, Kenny and I did since he didn't have a phone or computer that could get online worth shit. After a year or two, Stan and I stopped talking too.
"Isn't that a shame!" We dragged the desk into my room. "I'm sure that'll change right away. You'll be going to school with them again after all."
"How do you know that?" I took off my coat and tossed it onto my bed.
"There is only one high school in South Park, Bubbee."
"Oh yeah."
"Sheila?" My dad called from downstairs.
"What is it, Gerald?" The two went back and forth yelling ideas as to where the third drawer for dad's dresser could be before mom went downstairs to help look.
"Only one high school. Hm." I sorted through snow-dampened cardboard boxes to find and unpack everything. I couldn't get the thought out of my head that I'd be seeing everyone again. Stan and I had run into each other once at some baseball tournament, but we didn't say much other than that we'd get back in contact.
Even as I showered and got in to bed, I couldn't stop thinking about my three friends. For some reason, I was nervous as hell to see them all again. Mom said we'd get back to being friends in no time, but was she telling the truth?
Walking through the doors of South Park High was one of the most intimidating things I've done in my entire life, and that's saying a lot. Before I'd gotten into the school, I saw Clyde, Tweak, and Token. I waved, they waved back uncertainly. I overheard them talking over who I might be. They hadn't recognized me. We weren't that close, but we had gone to school together up until fifth grade. It left me with a bad taste in my mouth.
I sighed and looked down at my schedule. I was coming in during the middle of the second quarter. Catching up on classes was going to be a bitch and a half. I decided I would focus my thoughts on the classes and not worry about the people. The only problem was that I had no clue where any of the classes were and my first class had started ten minutes ago.
"God damnit." I crumpled the schedule and stuffed it in my pocket, making my third round around the second floor with the hopes of finding room 209B. "207, 215, 209, 213... Yeah, that makes sense." I grumbled my hatred toward the nonsensical numbering of the rooms, hands deep in my coat pockets. Like hell had I found my locker. 1568T. What the hell did that even mean? "I give up-" before I could finish, I collided full force with someone. I didn't have a chance to fall, a felt a strong grip on my shoulders right me. "Sorry, I wasn't-"
"Kyle?"
"Huh?" I looked up and came face-to-face with Stan.
"Dude. No way." He let go of my shoulders and stepped back. "You're back? Like, are you actually back?" He was grinning from ear to ear. In an instant, I was too.
"Hell yeah, man." I adjusted my backpack so that the three hundred pound textbooks would stop digging into my spine. There wasn't too much of a point to that because, as soon as I had, Stan had picked me up in a bone-crushing hug. When he set me back on my feet, I had to grab a wall to keep from falling over.
"I missed the hell out of you, man." His tone was almost apologetic. "How was Denver?"
"It sucked balls." I answered, finding it strange how easy it felt to be talking to him again. It was like we'd never stopped talking.
"Yeah? Why?" He glanced toward an open classroom door and motioned for me to follow him.
"It didn't have you." I punched him in the arm. He punched me back. I had to hide the grimace. Damn! Stan was strong!
"Totally gay, dude." He was still grinning though.
"So how's South Park been?"
"Same as usual. Crazy shit happens, no one cares, then Cartman does something stupid and everyone's over it by the next day." Stan turned a corner. I practically tripped over my feet turning around to follow after him. "Why are you carrying all your crap around?"
"Oh. Uh," I rubbed the back of my neck. "I can't find my locker." Stan laughed. "Hey, the numbering on everything is all sorts of fucked up! It's not my fault-"
"Relax, relax! No one can figure it out. What's your number?"
"1568T."
"Lame. You're in the theater department."
"Theater department?"
"Yeah. They've got this school divided up by subjects. There is some weird code that supposedly makes it all make sense, but most of the time you just wind up memorizing where all the shit's at."
"Oh."
"Here, I'll take you over there. I won't get in trouble for being late if I'm showing the new kid around, right?" He laughed and threw an arm around my shoulder.
"Weak, dude." He laughed again.
Stan went over the layout of the school. After he did, it wasn't too hard to understand. He looked over my schedule, told me where I would find my classes and marked all the ones he was in. My locker was inside a storage room outside the recital hall. There were three lockers, a big garbage can, dozens of huge boxes, even more smaller ones, and a ladder propped haphazardly against a wall. The top of the ladder was hidden somewhere in the shadowy mass of the ceiling.
"What the hell are you doing, hippie? Stalking me?" A painfully familiar voice interrupted our conversation. Cartman threw open a pair of double doors, nearly hitting Stan in the head.
"Not on your life, fatass. I was showing Kyle where his locker will be."
"Kyle?" Cartman cocked his head to the side and made a face. "What the fuck are you talking about? Kyle moved, dumbass."
"He came back, fatass. He's standing right here. Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass and paid attention to what's around you, you'd have noticed."
"You want to say that again, hippie?" Cartman broadened his shoulders and took a step forward.
"What? Can't understand something that's not sung at you, musical-fag-boy?"
"Ha ha! Very funny. I- Holy shit! It's Kyle!" Cartman forgot about his 'heated debate' with Stan and turned his full attention to me. "What the hell are you doing back here, Jew rat? Isn't your dad busy Jewing honest people out of their money?" Before I had a chance to retort, he crossed his arms over his chest and went on. "I suppose it was only a matter of time before you came crawling back to us and South Park. I can't say I'm surprised. You probably sat around crying like a little fag until your bitch mom decided to bring you back. 'Mommy Mommy! I miss my friends so much!'"
"Shut up, fatass! Like I'd ever miss you."
"Uh huh. Sure. That's why you came to see me during first period on your first day back."
"That was a total coincidence!"
"Sure, sure." He jeered. "I've got to get to class. I don't know what you losers are doing here, but I am here for a quality education." He turned his back and strutted off. "See you at lunch, morons!"
"That's Cartman for 'I'm happy to see you.'" Stan proclaimed when Cartman left.
"I... see..."
"Anyway, this is your locker. You'll have to pick up your own lock because this SPH is cheap as hell. I'd better get back to class. We've got physics together next period, so I'll see you then." He took a step toward the main hall before turning back. "I can't believe you're back, man."
"Me either."
"See you in a bit." Stan was the one to break the sentimental silence and take off.
"Yeah. Save me a seat."
"Got it."
I smiled to myself as I put my books and coat away. I was genuinely happy to be back. Never in my life did I think I would be happy to say that I'd be going to the shitty ass high school in South Park, but I was ecstatic. I couldn't wait for second period to start so I could see Stan again. There was so much I wanted to say and so much I wanted to ask.
I checked my watch. I was officially going to be twenty minutes late to my first class, anatomy and physiology.
"Great." Despite the impending embarrassment, my mood wasn't shaken.
I opened the door of room 209B as quickly and quietly as I could. I hoped to avoid being noticed as much as possible.
"Broflovski?" The woman at the front of the room asked.
"Yeah, sorry. I couldn't find the classroom then I-"
"That's fine. Today is lab prep." She motioned for me to come to her desk. I glanced toward the students. They were all immersed in conversation and writing. I doubted that anyone had seen me come in. I breathed a sigh of relief. "Do you have any background in anatomy? This is an honors level class. I worry that you will not be able to catch up. I am sure you are a smart boy, but I would hate to see you struggle to adapt even more than you already will. Moving from a big city to South Park is quite the change."
"Oh that's fine. I lived here until I was eleven."
"Did you? All right then. Tomorrow we'll be working on the first of a series of dissections. The class had an odd number until you came along. I'm sure your partner will be glad to know he won't be doing these alone." She directed me to the back of the room.
My partner's face was covered with unkempt, blonde hair. A baggy sweatshirt covered his lanky frame. He sat bent over the lab table, long legs bent awkwardly under the table that was just a bit too short for him. My heart skipped a beat. I knew exactly who it was.
"It looks like you've got a partner after all. Try not to scare this one off too." She tapped her manicured nails on his desk three times to get his attention. The blonde lifted his head and brushed his hair from his face, revealing bright blue eyes and a series of piercings on his ears, one on his lip. That was when the dumbest thing happened. I felt my heart rate skyrocket and felt my face grow warm.
"I've got it, I've got it." The teacher gave him a warning look and left. I stared at Kenny, unable to find a proper greeting. "You look like you saw a ghost. Shouldn't I be the one looking like that?" He grabbed me by my backpack, forcing me to sit on the stool beside him. "When the fuck were you going to tell me that you were coming back?" I took a breath and tried to calm my irrationally frazzled nerves.
"It's crazy, isn't it? We didn't know we'd be moving until, well." I waved my hand, figuratively brushing away the rest of the explanation. Kenny leaned over to my side of the table and pulled a dissection manual in front of me.
"We've got to pretend we're working or some shit." He flipped the book open. Something about him was distractingly cool. "Kyle Broflovski, back in South Park." He grinned, head propped on his hand, eyes locked on me. The teacher was moving back in our direction. Kenny stopped talking. I looked over the dissection manual. Every so often, Kenny would turn the page.
My head was filled with thoughts I couldn't decipher. All I knew was that I wanted to talk to Kenny, but every time I looked up and tried to, I'd catch him looking at me and would lose my cool. I had to look back to the dissection manual every time. Once, I heard him laugh under his breath. Before I knew it, the bell rang and class was over. Kenny was the first to his feet.
"See you around, Kyle." He brushed past me and walked out the door without looking back. I stayed at the table, flustered and holding the beat up manual in my hand, having no idea what I was supposed to do with it.
A/N:I am not sure I am enjoying where this is going. I want Kenny to be super cool, but I do not feel like I accomplished that as well as I would have liked to. Grr. I will have to try harder in the next chapters.