When I entered High school, I don't think I made much of a good impression.

In fact, I KNOW I didn't make a good impression.

Probably because I didn't even go to class.

I had spent weeks preparing, watching countless youtube videos on how to hide bags and how to style your hair, only to sleep in and be late. I ended up wearing a baggy blue and yellow sweater, and shorts that were too small, days of shopping and prepping washed away with a shitty dollar tree alarm clock. On the drive to school, I had to have my dad pull over to let me puke, twice. And I stalled in front of the towering building for an extra ten minutes, loudly smacking on cinnamon gum to get rid of the bile taste while my eyes examined the stone gargoyles on the roof. They grinned and chuckled at me, their laugher sounding chalky and dusty. I compared it to the saying 'rusty nails on chalkboard'

"DOn't go IN THERE." They warned.

I frowned and tugged at my hair as they peered down at my small figure with crusty amusement.

"OH TWEEK, IT'S SO HIGH UP HERE. WHY DON'T YOU COME UP AND SEE FOR YOURSELF? THERE'S SUCH A LOVELY VIEW."

I yelped in alarm and ran up the stairs to the school.

I entered through the large glass doors, proceeding to wonder through the crowd of perfume tainted teenagers. Jerking violently with nervous twitches, I stood in line for a while to retrieve the paper with my classes. And just as one of the staff members handed it to me, I noticed a familiar blue hat, dancing above the sea of heads.

Snatching the paper almost rudely, I scurried towards Craig, who flipped me off and mumbled a weak "'sup"

I swallowed down rising excitement and returned the greeting, except with an insufferable stutter.

I hadn't seen him all summer and just sight of his menacing glare was enough to send my metaphorical tail wagging.

And god, I was unbelievably happy to actually know someone here.

I had lost sleep over how lost I would be with no friends. No one to each lunch with, or to be partners with. I could almost picture the scene, standing awkwardly in a gym. Uniform clothing hanging awkwardly on my scrawny limbs while two groups stood in front of me with teasing smiles. "No, you put Tweek on YOUR team." Someone shouts, pointing an accusing finger at the other group. "No!" They retaliate harshly, "He'll make us lose for sure, YOU guys take HIM!" The gym teacher would click his tongue, annoyed that they wouldn't just start the damn game. "Will someone for the love of god just pick Tweek? I'm about to put him on the Red Team." They gasp, murmuring to each other in conflict. "We'll totally lose." They say. Everyone bores their eyes into me. I could almost feel the puke rising in my throat.

I look up to see craig, who was staring at me with confusion. Which I guess is just a straight face with a raised eyebrow. I mean, he raises his eyebrows all the time I guess, but I could tell it was a confused movement. Trust me.

"So." I said, "Do y-you know what classes you-HNGHH- have?"

He grunted, taking a seat on a hallway bench. I followed the action, taking my place next to him.

"Yeah, but I'm going to pretend I don't so I can ditch. It's a pretty good excuse for when I get home."

I snorted. "You're going to d-ditch? On the f-first day? Class h-hasn't even started, w-where do you intend on-on going?"

Craig shrugged, scratching his nose. I swatted his hand away, considering he always scratched at his face when he was annoyed. I remember the time in 7th grade, ((when we where really close)),when he walked into class with angry red marks sprawled across his cheeks, and I had clung to him for the rest of the day in guilt for not being there to stop him.

He glared at me, fidgeting his fingers. "I'll go where ever the fuck I please."

"Can I come with you?"

He huffed, I could tell he didn't want me to go. He seemed to hate my presence sometimes and it always made my chest hurt at the thought of it.

While he quietly weighed out the pros and cons of me tagging along, I let out a loud "GAH!" Making a girl who was passing by flinch at the outburst.

"Jackass…" She muttered with wide eyes, obviously spooked.

I suppose she thought I did it on purpose, but I honestly couldn't control my shrieking.

I wish I could just smile at her, stopping all my trembling and stuttering and say in a crisp confident voice. "Sorry! I was only teasing. You just seemed so cute, I couldn't help but surprise you. But since I caused you all this trouble, why don't I walk you to class?" And then we would become great friends, and maybe fall in love. But that was a false reality, and all of that was a lie.

So I hung my head down in shame and embarrassment and croaked out a pathetic "s-sorry."

"That wasn't cool." She informed me, straightening her composure and marching off.

Craig gave a dramatic sigh, drawling out in his nasally voice, not taking notice of the girl I frightened.

"Yeah I guess you can come. We're probably just going to go shoplifting at the mall."

"Shoplifting?" I repeated.

"Shoplifting."

"And-and-and you said 'we', who else is g-going?"

He pointed at me. "You." Then he pointed at himself. "And then Me. That's it."

"S-So, you're implying that you expect me to steal?"

"I know you like it."

I had no idea how he would know that, I rarely ever stole but when I did.

Oh boy, the excitement and adrenaline was almost arousing.

"AH-! NO I DON'T! STEALING IS WRONG!"

Craig burst into laughter, although I failed to see the punchline.

He slapped his hand on my back, and I could feel his thumb trace circles onto it. My cheeks sprung alive with color and I meekly looked away, although I pressed more into the warm touch.

"When the world cheats me, I cheat the world right back." He told me. I purred, lost in his touches. "What period should we meet up in, Tweeky?" He pet my frizzy mane, playing with strands of hair. "Mmmh, we can leave whenever you want."

"Right now."

"Okay." I agreed. "Just don't stop touching."

Craig smirked, "Well you just said we could go right now, so let's get a move on."

I was snapped out of my hazy world of affection, and was brought back to dizzy reality.

"Right now?!" He pulled me up, dragging me out of the doors I had entered only 15 minutes ago. I winced as pain shot up my arms and the hollers of the gargoyles ringed in my ears. "OOOH THE FAGS ARE HOLDING HANDS!"

Craig couldn't hear the voices so he didn't let go, even as we walked down the street together.

I was agitated at him, he always gave me fake worship when he wanted me to do something.

When growing up, my parents never held me, or touched me or anything like that.

They kept their distance, letting me hit my head on things from frustration or letting me drink all the coffee I wanted. I remember the night in elementary, when I had explained I was getting into a fight, And they had given me metaphorical bullshit, and told me stories with no real meaning. I ended up repeatedly smashing my forehead against the dinner table screaming "YOU'RE STORIES NEVER GO ANYWHERE, I WANT OUT-I WANT OUT!" They ignored me, finished their plates and went to bed. I continued until my head bled and soaked into the table cloth.

So, whenever I got held, or touched, or cared for, I was easy to manipulate and control.

"So what do you even want to-nHHGHH- get from the mall? Maybe we could m-matching necklaces, since we're apparently b-b-best friends now."

I hissed the last part, but couldn't help but think the insult would of been better if I hadn't stuttered and slurred my words. Craig punched my shoulder playfully, and I yelped in pain, exclaiming a loud "D-DUDE!" He snickered, amused with the response he received. I rubbed the sore spot, pouting at the tenderness of the flesh. The pain flickered memories in my head and my chest stung.

"Maybe we SHOULD get matching necklaces." He announced, pulling out a carton of cigarettes. I held out my hand expectingly. "Ones with rainbows."

We both lit up our cancer sticks and knocked them together in cheers, like you would with wine glasses.

We even made the clinking noise before smoking.

This was something we had started doing in the 8th grade, it was almost a tradition now.

"S-so this whole ditching thing, is t-this going to be a normal deal?"

"Probably. School fucking sucks, the teachers suck, the students sucks. If it could just all go away, I would be sooooo happy."

"W-What If I went away?"

He processed the idea for a moment before stating. "Let's shot gun."

It wasn't an answer but I imagined that the only reason he wouldn't say anything is because he actually enjoyed my company. If I was Kenny, or Stan and I asked that question he would of clicked his tongue and said. "Ugh, can we make that dream come true? Go away, man. Quit bothering me."

Or maybe it was because of my paranoia that everyone hated me and wanted me to kill myself. Maybe he just didn't want to feed into my issue.

I nodded my head, standing in front of him.

He sucked in smoked and a little escaped from his nostrils in a way that made me think of an angry cartoon bull.

Bringing his face close to mine, he blew the poison into my awaiting mouth, where I eagerly sucked it in.

Holding it for a second so I could hopefully get some nicotine, I grimaced. "I-It taste like I j-just kissed my grandma."

"Ooooh what if we got grandma necklaces? Like, necklaces with little old hunchbacked ladies charms on them." He announced, actually sounding interested in the fantasy product.

I giggled. "That's-That's fucked up right there."