South Park High School looked like every other building in the small mountain town. Old, worn down, and neglected by a collection of people uninterested in it. As such, it was. None of the teenagers trudging up those broken cement steps could have cared less about the state of affairs concerning their personal prison. Feeling quite the same was the faculty that lingered in the doorways and halls, ushering the crowds through the icy chill of the air conditioned walkways. The heat that bathed the outside couldn't match the frosty bite of the inside, however. Thus, the throngs of adolescence made their ways into the white washed building and into the drafty halls. The building may have been left to rot, though not in so many words, but there was a considerable amount of life within.

The students bustled to and fro, book bags swinging on and off shoulders. Hips swayed, high heels clicked, and laughter chimed throughout. Music danced along the walls as chatter flooded in varying volumes. The conversations were drowned out by others, creating the usual blanket of white noise that consumed the wavelengths of high school hell. Into this environment, four renown troublemakers walked. They slipped up the cracked steps and into the out stretched hands of promise and they frowned at the invitation.

Still, Kyle Broflovski, Kenny McCormick, Stan Marsh, and Eric Cartman entered the high school just after the first bell had sounded. They shared matching expressions wrought with boredom, annoyance, and frustration. However, that was all they shared. Five years of breaking and entering pre teen drama and teenage acceptance had shattered whatever they had once had in common. Into their own they had grown, although the look they shared drew them together as one over all. Nevertheless, the differences were striking, particularly on that day. For that day, none of them had bothered with the usual pretense of freshman year. The desire to be who they were had faded. Now, it was replaced by the older apathy of knowing who they were and not needing to show it. Somehow, that apathy showcased who they were better than anything of the previous months. It screamed loud and clear while they slowly inched towards the line of baby blue lockers that were their own.

Kyle had, at long last, grown to accept his unruly, red locks. His curls fell in waves down to his shoulders, frequently falling into his slender face. The appeal was feminine in a masculine manner, striking and lovely, somewhere in between worlds and lost there. Adding to that appeal was the heart stopping cast away look to his emerald eyes. He constantly appeared to be looking through the world about him. What he saw, of course, was unknown. The dark and harsh outline of inner rage to those shimmering eyes made sure of that. There was a depth to those orbs that screamed and shoved up walls and fought at the slightest movement. Yet, it were those two conflicting images, one of wisdom and one of savage anger, that created the persona that was the Jew.

He had replaced his orange jacket and green pants with a classic style that had touches of the punk and rocker fashions. Clashes of worlds that jerked and tugged him in various directions without end other than faint hints of shrieking rebellion. His jeans were light in color, but rough in style. There were tears at the knees and deep, forest green paint stains on the cuffs. They were his trash jeans; the ones he wore when he was rough housing at Stark's Pond and when he repainted his room without permission. Over them, he had thrown a black and blood red shirt with the Star of David etched into the fabric. The shirt was a semi tight fit, hugging the runner's body he had crafted from years of jogging in the afternoon to the music of Raging Pussies. His half way destroyed track shoes spoke loudly on that matter. Still, he had his faded book bag over one shoulder. It held his books, though none of them were school oriented.

However trashy Kyle looked, though, was nothing compared to Kenny. He had never been able to find a parka that fit as well as the iconic one of his childhood. Instead, he wore an unzipped hunter orange jacket with a nice hood on it. This jacket had graced his body for the past two years and showed the wear and tear of those days quite vividly. Underneath, he wore a belly shirt with the picture of a naked woman on it. His flat and skinny stomach showed every time he moved, sliding up and down. Whether it was really a belly shirt was unknown. As he was still wearing jeans from seventh grade, the shirt could have been the same. As such, though, his jeans hugged his slender frame tightly, especially at his slightly plump bottom. Years of being malnourished had not yet taken it's toll on his short frame. He remained healthy looking, even when he was underweight.

In fact, he still had a baby face. His tangled, messy blond hair fell in front of his barely fat cheeks and saucer wide eyes. The effect was stunning. He looked like an angel, with those shockingly sapphire orbs and plump face. Beyond the hair, however, there was a haunted look flickering in those pools of blue. Darkness pulled them into a frightening place; the only part that reflected the life that had left him so skinny. Nevertheless, he was beautiful. Feminine and fragile, even when his rough and tough clothes pushed and shoved him in a different direction.

While those two were torn to pieces, Stan looked pieced together. His jet black ebony hair had been left loose, but cropped short. In uncombed strokes, it hung into his deadpan aquamarine eyes of crystal cold. Those eyes resounded an unfathomable agitation at all before him, cutting into the world and cutting it to shreds in a vain attempt to discover interest. In that agony, he had created an unmistakable look of unadulterated unconcern. That look was reflected vividly in the downward turn of his lips and the tension in his slender, though wholly masculine, face that had failed to seem truly hardened.

Coupled to this look was the haphazardly matching outfit that was just as biting as those lifelessly livid orbs. His jeans were rich blue, but stained in black ink. The streaks smeared down to pool at the broken soles of tortured sneakers on their last breath. These were the protest jeans he had worn down to the docks during the last oil spill. These were the sneakers that had seen him through a year of hard running after animal abusers. Despite their noble appeal, his shirt was anything but. Instead, it was a ripped and worn tee expressing the platform of the Raging Pussies: No Sex No Deal. This tee hung on his athletic form, although it didn't diminish the strength of his toned body beneath. Over this faded grey thing, he had slung his blue bag which held a water bottle in place of books. Patches of various animal movements were stitched into the fabric torn apart by abuse.

Even as put together as he looked, he looked practically a mess when compared to Cartman. If only one of them had come through the nails and claws of middle school unaffected, it was him. His persona broadcasted that in booming tones without restraint. His clothes were a style all their own, with splashes of the classic, the punk, the rock, and the unusual, though they were, in nature, so simple. He wore jeans that were next to black that were loose until they reached his boots. These leather beauties were laced with bubblegum pink laces and were laced right over his designer, but broken in, jeans so they could be seen. There were scuffs of the fronts from a life of escaping police downtown, but polish on the sides from care. Equally as polished and bruised was the shirt worn over these boots and jeans. A bloodied red number, it was written on, in black letters, the repeating phrase WWBBD like sprayed on graffiti. The shirt was stretched over his wide and heavy belly that had grown expansive in it's girth over the proceeding years. Still, for all the weight, there was nothing to take away from the cascading charisma of such a person.

This was written even clearer in those deliciously sweet topaz eyes like drops of spilt honey. They sang with pleasurable confidence that danced in the cunning smile he wore. Adding to that charm were the sweeps of short, light tan hair that fell into those sweet eyes of harsh, broken innocence that had never been. His hair was a mess from the way he ran his fingers through it when laughing the cold, complacent laugh that just roared in the darker depths of those eyes. For, deeper still, there was a screaming inferno within those eyes that looked into souls and saw what shouldn't be seen. That cold and hot power lingered in that fox's smile and down into his full face and into every inch of that six foot tall, masculine form that had grown so heavy off of decadence.

As such, the four drifted aimlessly through the hallway. Other students dressed in much more casual clothing pushed and shoved their ways through the mill of people. None of those other students dared to approach the four of them. On the contrary, they did all that they could to avoid them. People eased against the lines of lockers and knocked into one another rather than disturb the stride of the four devastatingly irked looking boys. In this uninterrupted manner, they went through the school towards their lockers. They didn't bother with the hustle of those around them. They went at their own pace. Never mind the lingering threat of the bell sounding again.

" I don't even know why we gotta go today. It's the last day of school," Cartman sneered, rolling his eyes and looking away in the same motion. Kenny glared momentarily at nothing in particular while the other two cast fickle glances between them, " What's the point?"

" School says we gotta be here," Stan answered in a flat, monotone voice. The tone was so devoid of expression, in fact, his face didn't even mirror anything. It was as bored as before, as if this conversation ceased to exist.

" School fuckin' sucks," Kenny hissed with much more venom. His nose scrunched up slightly when he did.

" That's not the point,"

" Is there ever a point?" Kyle interjected mildly, adjusting the way the book bag rested on his shoulder. Stan shot him a muted version of a dark look. Beside him, however, Kenny snorted into his hand.

" Heeeelll no," the poor boy waved his hands to either side as he spat out his opinion on the matter. Stan groaned under his breath, squeezing his forefinger and thumb at the bridge of his nose. The other three turned their attention to him when he did, recognizing the sheer halting action for what it was. The activist furthered his point with a double handed stopping motion that was quickly followed by vocal explanation.

" Don't start, guys. I don't wanna hear it,"

" Well, soooorrrryy," Cartman retorted sarcastically, making a face to match. Kyle smacked him hastily in the arm without regard to the pressure nor the aim. Those honey eyes briefly moved in his direction.

" Shut up, fat ass,"

" What crawled up your butt today?" the Nazi demanded, wholeheartedly ignoring the Jew's comment and smack, " Ya sound like Kahl,"

" Fuck you!" Kyle snapped viciously, repeating his previous slap with considerable precision. The sound echoed a bit, but it was only something else Cartman ignored. Kenny, on the other hand, snickered into his hands. He was given a certain look from both of them, although it was obvious for different reasons. Stan didn't answer to the bait presented. He moved into a rant without noticing the shot directed at him nor the one at his best friend.

" I had to listen to my mom and dad have this exact same fight all last night," he moaned out in slow, long tones that accented nearly every word. The others wore their bewilderment proudly on their faces. It was Kyle, however, who openly addressed it.

" Your parents were fighting about you going to school? On the last day?" he paused for a second, leaving his questions hanging in the air. They grew heavier with every passing millisecond, as though their sheer confusion allowed them to. Then Kyle tilted his head to the side and pointed at Stan's face, " Why?"

" My dad said I didn't have to go. My mom did," Stan stated as a matter of fact. His voice and it's shared look said all there was to say on the topic. He offered no other explanation. Seeing how the others were well acquainted with Randy and Sharon Marsh, though, they didn't need any elaboration. They were quite versed in the rampant insanity, and the disagreements arising from said insanity, that plagued the Marsh family. Thus, they merely nodded.

" Your mom's stupid," Cartman said in an off collar sort of way, waving his hand in the general direction of the suddenly enraged and glaring activist.

" Don't call my mom stupid, Cartman!"

" Don't call her stupid, Cartman. Mrs. Marsh has always been really nice to us," Kyle added in that stern, affirmative voice he was capable of putting on when acting older than he was. The Nazi wasn't effected in the slightly by such a tone. He'd heard it too many times before to care.

" So?"

" So don't be an asshole,"

" What are ya, my mom?" Cartman's voice went quickly from unconcerned to irritated. The Jew's followed rapidly in suit as both their eyes narrowed at their chosen opposition. Like animals, they snarled at one another, drawing closer as though that would allow them a better angle to spew their rising anger.

" No, but someone has to tell you how to behave," the bite in Kyle's voice dipped down low to his soul. He could feel it bubbling beneath the surface. An ember ball of liquid fire, eager to explode and capable of erasing the better judgment preventing this verbal assault from changing into a roaring fist fight. The first trickle of hot flush oozed into his blood when Cartman flipped him the bird with that slow, honey evil smile of ready acceptance to the challenge presented in his fiery emerald eyes.

" Screw you, Jew,"

The invitation was so pretty, Kyle wished he could pluck it from the very air and save it for future reference. Those beautiful three words that just opened the door to that dripping ball of hatred so pure, it tasted like sugar. He ripped open that door and felt that spit fire hellion attitude jump into his bone and blood. Just as he was readying the attack, his hands clenching tightly, he was cut off. Stan created the same halting effect as before with similar motions. The stress in his voice paused the looming battle. It didn't, though, eliminate that raging pulse of fire in Kyle's blood.

" Jesus Christ, guys. Not this. Not now," Stan choked out through gritted teeth. He gave them exhausted looks from behind his hand, " It's too fucking early,"

" 'Not this'? Not what?" Cartman barked, the edge to his voice as definite as the tremble making its way down Kyle's tensed back. The Nazi and the Jew exchanged longing, desperate looks of outrage. The same look sized up their opponent. It was easily decided that the fight was one they needed. Their expressions told the other that, even if that message was missed by the glaring Stan and eye rolling Kenny.

" That thing. That whole 'bitch fest' fight thing you two do," Stan further explained, remaining as vague despite it. There was a growing distain for the conversation. It was becoming clear that he expected them to know what he was referring to and to stop it. Nevertheless, they were too distracted to catch on.

" What the hell are you talking about?" Kyle questioned, shooting a forlorn stare into those hauntingly hungry honey eyes. The Jew wet his lips as Kenny sighed and ran a hand through his tangled up hair. The motion knocked his hood down onto his shoulders quite effectively.

" You know that whole 'fuck you Jew', 'fuck you fat ass' thing that you do," the poor boy attempted to explain, smiling faintly as he did. Stan snapped his fingers and nodded energetically.

" Yeah. That,"

" I have no idea what you're talking about," Cartman told Stan and Kenny without any emotion to his voice whatsoever. He didn't even seem concerned that they were claiming he had a 'thing' with the Jew. Instead, there was a touch of fury to his usually blank, falsely sweet eyes. Perhaps, a touch mirroring the rage Kyle felt brewing deep within himself as this failure to release the immense fire directed at said Nazi.

Nevertheless, Kyle addressed the topic at hand with a select few words that he found faltered halfway through. He wasn't at all surprised by the turn of events. He was, after all, quite preoccupied. Mentally, to say the very least. Still, in that manner, he turned his harsh eyes to the looks of tired query on the activist and poor boy's faces.

" I do. It's not a thing. It. . ." his words tightened in his throat as he desperately searched for the right words to illustrate his point. Coming up empty handed in the white fog of lasting and pulsing fury, he spat out the only expression jumping to the forefront of his mind," It's an ongoing disagreement,"

" Disagreement my ass," Kenny mumbled under his breath as he flipped his hood back off his shoulders and over his flyaway blond hair.

" We're not disagreeing," Cartman cut in before Kyle could say a thing to the poor boy. Kyle thus turned his disapproving gaze onto his rival. That bubbling fire jumped into his throat, riling his blood in the anticipation of the struggle for control, the screaming match of opinion. He was not disappointed, " I'm right. You're wrong. Get over it, Kahl,"

The Jew grabbed the opportunity to argue faster than he had grabbed anything in his life. He jerked his whole body and his full attention to that joyfully jeering face and jabbed his finger up at it.

" Like hell you are! I'm right! You're ignorant! "

" I am NOT!"

" YES, you ARE!" Kyle shrieked, drawing closer to magnify the sound. Just the volume made the embers explode into a white haze just outside the line of his vision. Even more damning, he could see similar flames in those sweet honey eyes now narrowed in a glorious rage. He saw Cartman drawn closer to him; a moth to a flame, the both of them.

They couldn't help it, though. Screaming felt so good right then.

" Here we go again. . . " Kenny muttered, yet again under his breath. Beside them, Stan squeezed the bridge of his nose in a truly frustrated manner. It spoke to his feelings, although he still voiced it verbally with his favorite expletive.

" Goddammit,"

Regardless of Kenny and Stan's obvious upset at the turn of conversation, Kyle and Cartman did nothing to prevent the argument from escalating. If anything, their longing for that rush of ember induced hysteria encouraged it. Kyle knew that was how he felt concerning the situation. He tasted that burning sensation running along the back of his throat and he bit at the bait presented. Cartman did a wonderful job at presenting it just so. To the others, it was a tainted statement meant to prolong a fight. To Kyle, it was a carefully worded masterpiece. At any given time, it had no meaning. Said just right, however, it was a purely heinous remark meant to extend a request to finish a long overdue battle.

" You don't know what you're talking about, Jew,"

How fabulous the request was. Open ended, yet direct. A perfectly opportune request, truly it was. Being as courteous as ever, Kyle politely accepted without hesitation. In the manner required, of course.

" What the fuck do you mean; I don't know what I'm talking about?"

" I'm right. I'm always right," Cartman retorted venomously, casting the much shorter boy a demeaning smile. Kyle gritted his teeth in absolute agitation, before stepped even closer to that heavyset frame.

" You're never right," he jeered right back at him. Cartman was, as always unaffected by the claim. He scoffed and chuckled, infuriating that hot blooded red head all the more, " If you were always right you wouldn't have failed half your classes this semester,"

" If I'd failed half my classes, Kahl, I wouldn't have passed," the Nazi cattily replied in an offhanded manner. He seemed to be reeling in the tasty heat their arguments created with Kyle; as if he could taste what the Jew felt. A shiver slid down his spine at the very notion.

" You only passed because your mom's sleeping with the principal," Kyle's voice dropped in pitch as he smoothed his eyes away from those penetratingly toxic orbs. The roaring flames within licked across his cheeks while he eased his body away. Cartman bit his lower lip, watching, eyeing him, as though he wished to address the dramatic change in positioning. He didn't, for Kenny snickered and giggled into his fingers like a young school girl spying her crush.

" Heh. Yer mom's a dirty slut," he cooed, talking from behind his extended fingertips. Breaking into a fit of giggles matched with a wickedly frozen grin, Kenny covered his mouth to muffle the sound. The reaction gathered quite the strange look from the activist.

" My mom is not sleepin' with the principal," Cartman snapped at Kyle. He decidedly ignored Kenny's perverted and lustful attitude with a shrug of the shoulder, " She broke up with him,"

" And you still passed?" Stan exclaimed in honest and true shock. There was no play, no joke, no jest to that statement. In fact, he couldn't even hide the amazement as it leaked onto his normally blank face. Rather than grow angry at the shock, Cartman crossed his arms arrogantly over the large arch to his heavy belly. As such, he grinned at the fuming Jew grinding his teeth together.

" Told you I wasn't failin',"

" Oh, you were failing alright," was the barely audible answer Kyle shot at him. He felt his hands gripping in that mental fire wanting to strangle and choke the smug out of that fat face.

" You wish I was,"

" No, you were. It's just, none of the teachers want to deal with your shit, so they passed you anyways," he coldly commented without missing a beat. Cartman flipped him the bird complimented nicely by the face he made.

" Not true," he barked in that mildly amused tone he used when thoroughly enjoying a vividly cruel round with his favorite minority. Kyle returned the favor with his own finger gesture of mimicking mannerisms. The two grinned causally then, that heat trickling down to their toes in a lingering spell of intoxication.

For the moment, though, the words exchanged between them died away. Kyle swung his back pack off his shoulder as they approached the four lockers lined up one by one that were theirs. Unlike the other blue slates of metal, these four had smilie face stickers pressed into the corners. Each sticker was identical, in that they were yellow with sparkly trim, but different, in that they had symbols drawn on their wide foreheads. One had a swastika, another the Star of David, the third a four leaf clover, and the last a set of angel's wings.

At these lockers, the four stopped walking. Kyle turned the dial on the lock of his marked locker, looking square at the tiny numbers as they quickly spun by. Beside him, Cartman hovered, one hand on his equally marked locker. He leaned all his weight into that outstretched arm, successfully caging the Jew between his girth and where Stan was plugging in his own combination. On the locker with the angel wings, Kenny pushed his back into the cold metal. He folded his arms over his flat stomach and looked at Stan beside him. He flashed the activist a quick smile before the two lockers were carefully opened.

" Aren't you guys gonna at least empty your lockers?" Stan asked, moving his locker door so that he could still see Kenny's bubbly blue eyes and Cheshire cat smile. Cartman looked only briefly away from where Kyle was shifting through papers and notebooks.

" Why?" the Nazi implored, reaching around the Jew's head to attempt to shut the locker on him. Kyle snatched the bottom of the locker in a fast, and harsh, counterattack. The two swapped contemptuous stares before glancing over when the poor boy cut in.

" What the fuck for? They can do that, can't they?" Kenny questioned, shrugging and sliding down the locker he was leaning against a couple of inches. Kyle narrowed his eyes in blatant confusion.

" They who?" Kyle wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer, but he asked the question anyways. It wasn't Kenny, however, who responded. It was Cartman and he did so in his usual wicked way. He even threw in a pretty eye roll for effect.

" They: the people who get paid to do it,"

" Who the hell gets paid to empty a locker?" the Jew demanded in open frustration. Cartman gave him a dirty look that was almost sympathetic in a mocking way. Of course, that only built up the hot sensation brewing within the pit of his stomach all over again.

" The fuckin' janitor maybe?" Kenny suggested in a rather annoyed voice. Stan and him shared an expression that was next to death, although it did leave them with smiles on their otherwise empty faces.

" Yea'. That wetback that mops the fuckin' halls,"

" Don't fucking call him a wetback," Kyle commanded, jerking his cold eyes in Cartman's direction. He was granted another eye roll and there it was. That explosion of white, hot fire within his mind. He felt the pressure, it was so strong. Gritting his teeth, he almost didn't hear what was said next.

" Why? It's what he is," Cartman actually shrugged one shoulder in an utterly casual manner when he said it. In all honesty, he was asking for it as much as he was inviting Kyle into the ring for round two. The look to those eyes spelled it out just enough for the Jew to bite back.

" You don't know that! He could be legal immigrant! How do you know he jumped the fence? This is Colorado! That's a long ways to walk!" he shrieked, balling his hands into fists so tight, his knuckles blanched down to the bone. His blood lit on fire and the release was perfectly expressed. He knew Cartman heard it, but, he couldn't see those mirroring fires yet. He just saw the ecstasy at having infuriated the Jew into another argument.

" Yeah, right, Kahl. Jus' look at him. He's a wetback," the Nazi motioned at nothing, keeping his voice even and empty. He was still baiting him. He was taking his time. He was waiting for the moment to lose his control and scream back. The wait nearly drove Kyle into a fit of hysterics.

" He's a janitor. He's wearing the janitor's uniform. What am I supposed to be looking at?" he practically screamed. Every word was punctured with that mild instability that was making him want to slam his locker shut. If only to make a point.

Cartman didn't seem to notice.

" You jus' don't see it 'cause you're a Jew," Cartman explained with that same airy voice as before. There wasn't a lick of frustration in his tone. Not a touch of mania driving him to gripping his hands to tight, he could feel the blood bubbling beneath. The taunt, however, was there. A threat disguised in a few, simple words. Seeing that, only from years of practice, made Kyle draw in a shaky breath that cut into the back of his throat. The air felt so cold compared to the fire within. Nevertheless, he shivered and shook and quenched the rage that was being so easily pulled out of him. Too easily for his taste, actually.

" Oh, bite me," Kyle scathingly whispered under his breath. Burning in an almost visible way, he returned to the items within his locker. Cartman smiled down at him as if he could see the flames in his emerald eyes and seeing them pleased him. Before he could continue drawing them to life, Stan injected with a haughty comment of his own.

" An' you only see it 'cause you're racist," the activist stated firmly, grabbing up all the paper and notebooks within his locker. Cartman's attention was directed at him merely to answer as calmly as he could.

" Your point?"

Stan stared at Cartman in what could have been shock. Not shock at the statement, of course, as he knew as well as any of them how the Nazi felt about minorities. No, but perhaps shock at his ability to be so nonchalant about it. Either way, he blinked and turned away. Instead, Stan tossed his schoolwork into the nearest trashcan. He didn't bother with looking at what he'd just thrown out. He just did it and washed his hands of the event. Besides him, on the other hand, Kyle carefully sorted through all the papers he had collected haphazardly during his brief, but satisfying, tiff with Cartman. Kenny leaned forward enough to see this process. In curiosity, he lowered his hood and addressed it by pointing.

" What the fuck are you doin', Kyle?"

" I'm sorting my paperwork. What does it look like?" the Jew sneered back without even looking up. He didn't mean to sound so harsh. He just couldn't help it. The fire for his fighting with a certain someone had yet to completely die away. Unfortunately, Kenny got the last of it with a dark glance.

" Well, I know that's what the fuck ya doin'. I meant, what the fuck for?" Kenny snapped right back with quite a similar tone. He even pushed himself off his locker to get a better look at the red head. The two exchanged a deliciously chilled look.

" What'd you mean 'what the fuck for'?" Kyle hissed, if only to be difficult. Kenny twitched from his head to his toes, his hands balling up like Kyle's had previously.

" I mean, what the fuck for?" he barked with noticeable agitation that was unquestionable. The accent he was usually gifted at hiding rose to the surface in a classically uncontrollable manner. He didn't even seem to care. Really, he seemed to be focused on Kyle's face, which, for all intents and purposes, usually meant that the poor boy was aiming a well thrust punch in the making.

" I think he means 'why are you sorting it' instead of just throwing it all out," Stan interjected in a diplomatic fashion. Kyle arched an eyebrow in his best friend's direction while Kenny waved his hands at the activist.

" Yeah, that's what the fuck I'm sayin'!" Kenny exclaimed, jabbing a finger at both of their faces. Kyle blinked a couple of times, easing away from the loud mouthed blond. Stan merely smiled softly down at Ken. He returned the smile with earnest while Cartman snickered under his breath.

" What are you, his translator?" the Nazi teased, tilting his head to the side. Kyle glanced at him before snickering all the same.

" Lord knows he needs one," the Jew joked, casting a faint smile up at Cartman. They leered at the suddenly pouting Kenny, who puckered his lips in a more than childish way. Casually, they chuckled, to which end he flipped them the bird.

" Fuck you, smartass. You gonna answer my question or not?"

" Well, I thought it was obvious," Kyle lightly said with a slight smirk. Kenny was quite obviously not amused, " But I'm sorting it to keep what I need,"

" Need for what?" the poor boy snarled right back at him, putting his hands on his hips in a jerky motion. Two emerald eyes looked him up and down, yet returned to the paperwork as if there was nothing to see.

" Need for next school year,"

" I don't get it," Kenny spat out to the side, twisting to look at Cartman for clarification. Stan seemed to want to say something, but he never got the chance. For, Cartman cut in. He didn't offer clarity for his friend, however. Instead, he made a point to accent nearly every syllable as though to amplify his disbelief.

" You keep that crap?"

" Yes," Kyle practically growled it out. He was no fool. He heard all those little notes of jeering within that disbelief. He certainly wanted to let Cartman know he heard them. Either way, his tone was ignored. Blatantly, even.

" Why? They're jus' gonna give it to us again next year," Cartman shrugged, moving his hand from his locker. Rather, he leaned back against it, crossing his arms firmly over his rounded belly. Kyle caught a glimmer of fire deep within those sugary eyes and he had to physically fight the smile crawling over his heating flesh.

Such a simple turn of phrase. Such a simple way to ease into a fight.

Lucky for him, he knew just what to say.

" Yes, but this way I can study,"

" Over summer?" the other replied in a nearly toxic manner. Oh, it wasn't a poison Stan and Kenny could taste, what with their blank stares. It was, though, something that Kyle felt in a mild fury. He let the biting comment cut into his flesh as he gritted his teeth and glared through his bloody red curls at two gleaming orbs.

" Yes."

" Wow. You're an even bigger nerd than I thought, Kahl,"

" People fuckin' study over the summer? " Kenny cut in through the building tension. Kyle and Cartman both regarded him with unkind looks that caused Stan to frown with just the edges of his lips.

" Well I can understand why you're so surprised. You don't even study during the school year," Kyle hissed back, desperately trying to balance out an irregular tone. He longed to be screaming. He didn't dare raise his voice at that unstable, little hoodied creature, though. Kenny wouldn't take it in the same stride as Cartman. Experience had told him that vividly.

" Yeah, but over the summer? Ain't you got nothin' better to do?" the poor one shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he asked it.

" Of course not, Kinny. He's a stupid Jew," Cartman snapped with a voice so smug, Kyle actually felt hands on his shoulders, telling him so. Nevertheless, it was rightly so. Only a voice like that could redirect the conversation into another lovely argument. And so it did.

" What the hell does me being Jewish have to do with this?" Kyle barked bitterly. Beside him, Stan squeezed the bridge of his nose in the mute annoyance at having to listen to this sort of thing all over again. Kenny, on the other hand, giggled innocently.

" You being Jewish has to do with everything," Stan informed his best friend, despite the fact that he was not being listened to. Kyle didn't hear him over the crackling of flames slowly churning in his mind.

" Ain't that the truth," Kenny mumbled into his hands as he once again hiked his hood over his messy, tangled hair.

" Only Jews are stupid enough to need to study over the summer,"

Cartman couldn't have made his intentions any clearer if he had asked outright.

" Okay. You know what, Fat Ass. I have the highest grade in the entire school. How am I the stupid one?" the Jew shrieked, shaking as he shoved his paperwork back into the locker. He saw Stan's head drop as if the activist couldn't believe he had just said such a thing. He saw the warning before it was given, those light aquamarine eyes pleading with him.

" Don't do it, Kyle,"

Kyle did not heed said warning. He plunged head on into it.

" No, I wanna know! How the hell am I the stupid one?" he yelled up at the amused expression watching his every twitch and tremble; both actions he found himself incapable of preventing. Those eyes lit up when he shouted his question, of course. The bait was taken and Cartman smirked and sneered and jeered as he returned the strikingly wickedly worded response.

" You're a filthy Jew. You have to study all the time just to keep up," the Nazi cooed out in that disgustingly sweet tone he used when attempting to get his way. Or when patronizing his favorite sparing partner. In this case, he couldn't have chosen better. Kyle actually let out a strangled sound of frustration that burned up his throat. That burning ripped through his pulsing blood as his heart rate speed up to match the shivering of his hands gripped so tight.

" Goddammit," Stan barely got out his opinion before Kyle exploded in a fresh bout of irrationality.

" Okay! You know what!" he roared, throwing down his book bag. It clattered into the floor, making Kenny jump and Stan cover his face. Cartman simply swallowed in longing, " Just for that, I'm not gonna study for the rest of high school an' I bet I'll still graduate ahead of you!"

It felt so good to be yelling. Really, it did.

" Well, duh. I already blew freshman year," the way the Nazi said it made it a mock, a tease, a challenge. He unfolded his hands, removing his psychological shield. He was defenseless and he liked it. Kyle could see it.

" I thought you said you passed?" Stan jumped in, his head raising up.

The look he was shot by both the Jew and the Nazi was dark enough to made him blink in a mildly confused manner.

" A 2.0 is passin', dumbass," Cartman sneered, as Kenny laughed into his hands. The muffled sound was comforting, if only in the familiarity sense.

" Don't mean he's gonna stand a chance against Kyle," the poor boy teased, though he turned his sapphire eyes on Stan rather than on the boy he was addressing. Stan flashed teeth momentarily while Kyle snapped his fingers. He pushed his index digit into Cartman's plump arm.

" Okay. I'll do you one better. I'll be valedictorian,"

" Valedictorian in a town full of dumbass rednecks. Yeah. That's gonna look great on your Harvard application," the Nazi remarked without hesitation. Kyle ground his teeth together. He fought the urge to spit in that fat face.

" What the fuck's a valedictorian?" Kenny meekly asked, his smile disappearing. His nose scrunched up when he said it. Every inch of that rough, tough, and dirty face screwed up in bewilderment. Cartman choked on what must of been a laugh, for he motioned towards the short boy with a sickeningly cocky smile on those lips.

" Case in point,"

Kenny's mouth slowly opened in outrage. There was a second, a moment, where it looked like Kenny was about to lose his cool. Dark pools had overtaken the whole of his eyes, dragging them to a secondary level of hell's fire. In fact, the cautious way in which he narrowed said eyes and turned them into a dagger's stare made Kyle swallow in waiting. Stan, on the other hand, rested his fingertips on the edge of that ratty, beaten jacket. Moving slightly closer, he firmly pressed his palm into that shoulder with a sense of protection and calmness to the action.

" It means first in class," Stan explained without looking at Kenny. Instead, he shot a dark glare at Cartman. Cartman, however, didn't seem to mind.

" First in class fer what?"

Stan sighed at the sound of Kenny's next question. He appeared as though ready to pet him on the head and tell him it would be okay while Cartman snickered without restraint. Kyle smacked him in the arm to silence the chuckles.

" It means he'll have the top GPA,"

" GPA?"

" It means he's the smartest kid in our graduating class," Stan finally just said, although he did so without any form of agitation or frustration. Kyle would have snapped it, Cartman would have sneered it, but never Stan. He almost gave the blond a forgiving smile for daring to be so shamelessly adorable as to ask such obvious questions as those. As he was gearing up to, however, the Nazi ruined the moment as he usually did.

" Now say it real slow an' he might get it,"

" Are you serious, Kenny?" Kyle interrupted before either Cartman could laugh or Stan could glare. Kenny moved slightly to face the Jew, " You have no idea what GPA means?"

" Does it fuckin' look like I know what the fuck it means?" the poor one demanded, thrusting his fingers back at himself in an offhanded gesture. Kyle noted the upstart attitude to that statement and was opening his mouth to hiss back when Stan squeezed the bridge of his nose.

" Grade point average. It means grade point average," he weakly expressed, peering down at Kenny apologetically. Whether he was apologizing for the other two or for Kenny's confusion, though, was unknown. His apology didn't mean anything to any of the three.

" What the fuck is grade point average?"

Stan, Kyle, and Cartman all joined in with the momentary stare of complete and utter disbelief. Some shock and awe was thrown into the mix, but, mostly, it was just disbelief. Disbelief that Kenny could have made it through all of middle school and freshman year without knowing this. Disbelief that Kenny would actually be asking a group of his peers to explain it after so many years. Disbelief that Kenny McCormick could possibly sound so cute when unavoidably helpless in said situation. Yet, it was unmistakable. He did, all of them, and he did so with a small foot stomp of annoyance and a hearty glare of fresh, crushed ice stares. Slowly, Kyle blinked and glanced from side to side.

" I don't know if this is because you're blond or just. . . .stupid," the Jew muttered, tilting his head briefly to the side as if changing his perspective would make believing it easier. His statement was met with a fury of bared teeth, snarling, and a loud, overwhelming declaration in his general direction.

" Who the fuck are you callin' stupid?"

" A blond and a stupid person are the same thing, Kahl. Duh," Cartman retorted calmly. He acted as though Kenny was not metaphorically foaming at the mouth in pitch black rage the likes of which was the mental equivalent of poison. Hearing that voice in his ear, Kyle removed his gaze from the poor boy. Rather, he looked up and over his head and jabbed his finger up to those honey eyes.

" You're stupid and you're not blond,"

" Fine. I'll rephrase," he answered with a shrug of the shoulders, " All blonds are stupid people. Not all stupid people are blond,"

" Did you just admit to bein' stupid?" Stan questioned dangerously. Cartman ignored him quite passionately, while Kyle addressed him directly. He felt the fire within, uncurling at the hint of a mocking tone, and desired to bring that spark to a grand inferno. Thus, he proceeded as he had before. Daintily with a well placed turn of phrase. A bait, as it were.

" Of course he did. He's stupid."

Cartman's eyes darkened considerably at the present wrapped up in a neat, tidy bow. He didn't need to read the open it to know what it was. Instead of discarding it as he had Stan's, he took it and he shoved back. Kyle had pushed first this time. He had held out his hand for the perpetual tango and it was accepted with a sugary kiss to the knuckles and that classic grin.

" 'EY! Jus' 'cause I ain't smart the way you are doesn't mean nothin', you goddamn Jew!"

" It means you're stupid! That's what it means!" Kyle bit back as hard as he could, refusing to lose the momentum of the fire within the words thrown at him. Cartman's face finally started to showcase the anticipation that had been stirring and shaking the Jew's mind to pieces. He saw the way he licked his lips. That fat Nazi was as hungry for this brawl as he was. He felt his blood setting ablaze as those eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth and they took in their breath to scream and Eric was so hungry and they were ready to go, go, start, please, Lord in Heaven, he was ready, and they were on fire.

" WOULD SOMEONE FUCKIN' TELL ME WHAT THE MOTHAFUCKIN' GODDAMN HELL GRADE POINT AVERAGE IS?"

Kenny smashed the side of his fist into his locker with enough force to slightly dent the blue metal. The sapphire of his broken, harsh eyes of ice was as bloodied as red split from the knife in a fresh murder. Death was written in them for any soul that entertained the idea of overlooking his roared request. The look on that lovely face was wrought with a command that was something entirely different. Instead of a request, it was an order and one not to be ignored. The white of his teeth, the slant of his eyes, the off kilter stance of his body, the blanche of his knuckles all painted the picture clearly. Kenny, dear sweet child that he was, had had enough.

" It's that 2.0 thing on your report card," the activist said without needing to be told twice. His voice was not rushed, nor concerned, with the low sound of desperate struggle for control coming from the on-the-edge McCormick, " It determines how well you're doin' in the class. It's based on the grades you make during the year,"

" Yea' an' 2.0 is pushin' it for Kinny," Cartman joked, pointing at the calming expression overtaking the previous explosion of white, hot wrath. There was no mention of fury in the Nazi's voice, though. He was back to being as balanced as could be.

" Hey! I have a fuckin' 2.0.,"

" Yeah. You graduated, didn't you?" Stan didn't need to ask it, but it was phrased as a question anyways. Kenny gave him a quizzical look devoid of any emotion outside of misunderstanding. As suddenly as it had come, his temper was gone again.

" The fuck does that gotta do wit it?"

" You need a 2.0 to move up a grade,"

" Why?"

" Because that's average. You have to be average to move up," Kyle interrupted, motioning his fingers in an upward movement. Stan nodded in agreement while Kenny scrunched up his nose. The expression he wore clearly said that he had a few more questions, probably on the policies concerning this average thing, but he didn't get a chance to ask.

Immediately thereafter, the first bell rang. Around the four, the crowds of people blanketing them with continuous noise began to shuffle off towards swinging and shutting doors all along the halls. After this bell, there were only a few minutes to scurry into classrooms before the tardy sharks swam into the walkways to search for victims to drag to the tardy tank. This so called tank, which, in actuality, was a small room off the counselor's office, handed out the dreaded tardy slip. By itself, the pink thing was worthless. A student could gather as many as four of them before they became a serious threat. Beyond the limit, however, they became a worthy opponent for an enjoyable afternoon. Detentions, suspensions, and more followed a long track record with the index card sized pink things. As it was the last day of school, most of the students in South Park High had acquired a decent amount of tardy slips. Not wishing to ruin the beginning of their summer, then, they bustled quickly through the locker lined halls.

Despite having more slips than any of the other students combined, the four known troublemakers did not partake in said school activity. Stan just glanced down the hall as he pushed his locker shut. Beside him, Kyle took his deemed worthless papers and chucked them into the trash. The rest, he went to put into his bag. A look from Cartman, though, reminded him of his previous declaration of giving up studying. Kyle thus smiled smugly and dumped the rest of the stack in with the first half. He then pulled his bag over his shoulder and slammed his locker closed.

With that, the group slowly eased away from their sticker claimed lockers. They vaguely headed in the direction of their first period class of freshman year; biology. Not one of them seemed pleased with the decision, but they went anyways. The rate of walking, however, made the process slow. Kyle examined the ceiling, Kenny yawned into his fist, Stan sighed dramatically, and Cartman rolled his eyes with remarkable precision. Idly, the Nazi smacked Kenny in the shoulder and they communicated visually. Whining, Kenny handed over a candy bar from his jacket's pocket. Cartman tore open the wrapper and took a bite while offhandedly gesturing towards the classroom they were headed.

" Why are we goin' to class?"

" Because we have to," Stan answered in an unconcerned voice that mimicked his eyes in every way. Kenny pouted as Kyle wholeheartedly disengaged himself from the conversation. Rather, he jabbed his finger at the candy his heavy set friend was eating.

" Are you serious? It's seven in the morning and you're eating candy?" he didn't even know what emotion could be assigned to his voice. Within, the fiery embers were gone. They were extinguished by a sensation much hotter, much darker, much deeper inside his soul. Flames, embers, blazes, didn't seem adequate to explain the boiling white heat licking through his skull and into his spinal cord. The rippling tingling that progressed in all his nerves, though, was much like a splash of water to the face: shocking and burning.

" It's breakfast,"

" It's not fucking breakfast! It's fucking candy!" Kyle countered, digging his fingers into the strap of his bag to keep from lashing out. There was a tremble inching down his body, shaking him in a livid way. Beside him, though, Stan and Kenny distanced themselves from the argument by drifting a few centimeters to the left. They drew closer together, however, until their shoulders were touching.

" I'm not cutting class on the last day of school," the activist stated, as if searching for a topic to start a conversation on. Kenny turned his eyes to the ground while his lips smoothed into a soft, sly smile halfway hidden behind bright, hunter orange.

" Why? We always fuckin' cut class," Kenny glanced towards Stan. Stan returned the stare with a momentary glance of his own. Whereas Kenny's was directed towards Stan's legs, though, Stan's was at Kenny's face.

" It's the last day of school,"

" Yea' an' I wouldn't even be here if my parents hadn't been havin' sex this mornin'," the poor one responded with the lightest touch of agitation. The emotional touch made Stan's blank face harden even when the expression worn there never changed.

" Who cares if it's candy? It's breakfast," Cartman hissed down at the Jew who was giving with the wildly controlled look of heated fury. Kyle shook his head and his hands simultaneously in frantic waves.

" No, it's not. It's candy," he firmly assured the Nazi. Twisting to him, he made obvious motions to the large curve of Cartman's stomach, " And trust me, you don't need anymore,"

The hot water tidal wave white washed Kyle's mind as his voice dipped lower, and lower still. Quivering fear quenched his heart as it sped up, exhilarated to the point of self destruction. The breath that cut in, cut through, all the way through, his throat. A guillotine that struck every tenth of a second in rapid succession. Such was the manner he stood, his eyes widening in what could be labeled primal arousal. The fight, the bait, tasted like sugar. Down it went, toxic and true; an elixir to the aches of waiting all morning for the taste. Not enough, no, but enough for sedation of a building array of black, cold cat calls dancing through his otherwise moral senses.

Unfortunately, it was a sedation that was denied.

" Bite me, Jew," Cartman plainly said without the hint of pleasurable rage. There was no baiting, no mocking, no teasing. Merely three words, then the cold shoulder as he turned his attention away from the shell shocked Jew. Speechless, Kyle could only stare in growing black outrage.

" I doubt that's the only thing you've had for breakfast," Stan responded, moving a step closer into Kenny. The blond giggled ferociously into his sleeve covered palm whilst bobbing to the pressure of his shoulder against the activists.

" Nah. His mom made fuckin' pancakes. I know. I was there," Kenny replied, smiling widely in remembrance. Cartman frowned and gave the poor boy a nasty look reflective of many more he had given him beforehand.

" Yea', ya fuckin' mooch,"

" Hey! My parents were havin' fuckin' sex on the goddamn mothafuckin' couch," Kenny protested, loudly and wildly. He body moved towards the much bigger boy. Thus, his chest pushed into Stan's shoulder. The activist didn't appear put off in the slightest. In fact, he briefly smiled with the corners of his mouth. Ignoring the invasion of personal space, Kenny thrust a finger in the other's direction, " That's not moochin'. That's desperation,"

" Call it whatevah you want, Kinny. I call it moochin'," Cartman made a face as he told him so. Before he went to take another bite of his candy, however, Kyle's mind went cold, black waters and infuriated white fire.

" Give. Me. That,"

Whether or not the action was to appease the black or white, he didn't know. Everything went a stunning shade of grey as he snatched the candy bar out of that plump hand. He threw it violently into the nearest trash can. So hard, in fact, the echo of the clatter ran down the hall ahead of them. Yet, it was a motion that Kyle had no recollection of immediately thereafter. All he felt was blind satisfaction that dropped from his spinning head to his curling toes within seconds.

" 'EY! That was mine!" the sound of Cartman's shout pushed it's way down Kyle's back. The fingers were not kind as they shoved and broke down the shivering cold. Fire pushed back in a steadily growing inferno of internal screaming.

" Look, Fat boy! You don't need anymore candy!"

" You ain't my motha! You ain't my doctor! Back the fuck off, you goddamn stupid Jew!"

" Jesus Christ, not again. . . ." Stan mumbled, moving into the blond staring at the furious tension building in the space between the shaking Jew and fuming Nazi. They went uncounted for as the space drew next to nothing and the fury exploded after countless attempts to destroy, control, and contain it.

Kyle was the one who stepped over the line first.

" I don't need to be your mother! I don't need to be your doctor!" he stopped walked abruptly, bringing the entire group to a perilous standstill. Without concern for pressure, he pushed a finger deep into Cartman's heavy belly. When he spoke next, the demonic tone that rolled off his tongue matched the wholly hellish glint to his wide, emerald eyes, " I say it's not healthy and I don't need any of them to tell me it's not healthy! You don't need to be eating any more goddamn candy! You're fat enough as it is!"

" Fuck you, Kahl!" Cartman screamed down at him. The look to those honey orbs was murderous intention overshadowed by a blood lust the likes of which was unheard of, " It's my body! I'll do what I want! You don't have any say in what I eat or when I fuckin' eat it! So jus' shut the fuck up!"

" Well, somebody needs to tell you it's not healthy!"

" Do I look like I fuckin' care if it's healthy?

" No, you look like you jus' care how it tastes, fat boy!" Kyle snapped back, his body swaying slightly in the overwhelming darkness reaching up from the depths of his mind. He was giving in. He could feel it. Too bad it felt so good.

" Mind your own business, Jew! I don't need you tellin' me anything about what I eat!" Cartman's voice was raising as his hands clenched into fists. The pull to his eyes deepened, darkening them ever so slightly. There was a monstrous desire to hit him within Kyle. Strike first, test the waters that were making his head swim. From the look in those eyes, however, he was the one who was going to be struck down.

Somehow, the thought only excited Kyle.

" Kyle. . ." the lightness to Stan's unaffected voice shot through the waters like a jolt of electricity. That alone wasn't enough to make Kyle surrender this argument. When Stan rested a hand on his shoulder, then, he was shocked. He was slowly edged away from Cartman. The seriousness of what was being said, of the implications, fell over him as his closest friend steered him from the edge of destruction.

" Fine! You know what, fine! Keep eating the goddamn candy, Cartman! See what happens!" Kyle screeched out as he was gingerly eased from the line of fire. Stan squeezed his shoulder tighter, turning him away from the only person capable of bringing that level of fury out of him.

" Bite me, Kahl. Jus' fuckin' bite me,"

" Kenny. Make him stop," Stan demanded, looking sideways at the idle bystander of the blond. Kenny snapped to attention and jerked his head towards the blindly enraged Nazi.

" Eric," Kenny hissed in a tone that was quite different from his usual one. Two eyes of honey moved to his frozen expression hidden within the lines of an angelic face, " Knock it off,"

" Screw you, Kinny," Cartman muttered. Regardless, he did conceded as well, casting one final, heartfelt glare at the Jew. Kyle returned the gesture passionately before Stan moved him away and down the hall.

Hesitantly, the four began to make their way through the empty halls. Though none of them were sure when it had, they were sure the last bell had rung. The walkways were devoid of life outside of them, after all. Still, they drifted through the winding maze of teenage prison. No doors opened with irate teachers looking to send them to the principal's for screaming and disturbing the peace. No tardy sharks drew near to slap them with a summer tainting pink slip. No one came and no one went aside from them. This silent diversion from the minutes of morning beforehand eased the lingering tension away until it had whittled into nothingness. The memory faded as Stan sighed heavily and, at long last, released his stronghold on Kyle's shoulder.

" Why don't we. . . you know. . . go to Garrison's?" Stan suggested without any heart to it. All around, strange and bewildered looks were given in exchange.

" Garrison's? Isn't he our last class?" Kenny asked, folding his hands behind his head. The hood on his bangs was pulled down a bit, revealing more of his striking hair and bewitching eyes.

" Yeah," Stan nodded as he said it, " But it's the only alternative to skipping,"

" I'd rather jus' skip," Cartman informed him, running a hand through his already messy hair. Kyle bobbed his head up and down, pushing his curls momentarily out of his face. The moment he removed his hand, though, they cascaded back down into it.

" Me too," the Jew agreed, tilting his head a fraction of an inch. When he did, Cartman reached over and teasingly tugged on a curl. His hand was smacked back and the rivals shared a blank look of cold indifference that ended when Stan sighed yet again.

" Oh, come on. We'll be able to just hang out and not get in trouble for it,"

" Yeah, but it's Garrison," Kyle reminded him as he shifted the weight of his book bag on his shoulder. Stan's return look was much harder around the edge than previously.

" Kyle, I'm not skipping and we're already late," the activist's voice rarely ever held anything other than agitation or flat affect. In those words, however, there was a command that need not be expressed verbally.

" So don't skip. I don't care. Me an' Kinny will go back to my place without you two," Cartman said, thumbing towards the way they had come. Kenny grinned at the inclusion, despite having nothing to say on the matter. Nevertheless, Stan remained poised on his red headed friend.

" Kyle," his voice held the command of before. His eyes, on the other, pleaded a different story. They never quite reached the pleading measures of anyone else, of course. His face was far too empty for such desperate expressions. However, the full message was read by those searching green orbs. Letting out a sigh of overt defeat, Kyle motioned to the other two.

" Alright, you guys. Let's just go to Garrison's," he asserted, nodding towards Stan. Cartman and Kenny both wore instant looks of distaste, " I brought a deck of cards anyways,"

" Fine," the Nazi sighed in a truly disinterested way. His eyes rolled in that perfect manner he had learned over a decade ago. A flicker of a smile moved over the Jew's lips at it's appearance, however secondary it was.

" Ugh. Alright," Kenny groaned out, screwing up his face as if he could physically taste how terribly he felt about the idea.

" Thanks, Kyle," Stan said with a smile as the group turned to head the other way down the hall towards Garrison's classroom. Kyle nodded briefly, absentmindedly yawning into his fingertips.

" I still can't believe we got him for English," the Jew muttered, rubbing one of his eyes tiredly. Cartman glanced him up and down while Stan made a face like he had bitten something sour. Kenny sauntered up next to him as he did and idly hovered less then an inch from his shoulder. Every few steps, the activist and the blond bumped arms.

" Yeah, well, this is the last day we have to deal with him," Stan stated as his eyes flickered over the portion of his arm that frequently made contact with the pleasantly smiling Kenny. On his part, Kenny watched his shoes.

" If you say so," Cartman interjected with a cast away gaze at the ceiling.

" Well, it's not like he can teach us next year. He only teaches freshman English," Kyle retorted sarcastically, looking over as Kenny brushed his hand with Stan's. Almost without noticing, Stan intertwined his fingers with the dirty ones of the other boy. They held hands as if they didn't know they were. Neither one looked down or up to express recognition.

" That's not what my mom said," the Nazi told him as he too directed his eyes towards the handhold of the other two. He shared a look with Kyle, but what was said between their eyes went unsaid.

" What the hell do you mean 'your mom said'?" Kyle snapped, focusing all his attention on the discussion at hand. A few feet away, though, there was a snickering giggle as Kenny's face broke into a wild smile.

" Heh. Yer mom is such a dirty slut,"

" Shut up, Kinny," Cartman barked with a glare to match. Kenny ignored him with a school girl laugh that made his grip on Stan's hand tighten. Rolling his eyes again, the Nazi returned to looking down at the Jew who was still looking up at him, " I mean, my mom heard that he's gonna start teachin' all English's or somethin',"

" Are you fuckin' kidding?" Kyle exclaimed, his voice raising with a touch of fire running over the words. Stan gaped at Cartman in empty anger; mostly directly at their luck than what was being said. He fully expressed his feelings on the matter in his usual state of affairs.

" Goddammit,"

" Titties," came Kenny's hysterical voice from behind his hand. He grinned and chuckled and looked vaguely at them. Stan cast him a questioning stare while Kyle arched an eyebrow. Cartman, though, just sighed a mildly frustrated sigh.

" What?" Stan asked as if to clarify what was being said. Kenny snorted into his palm before flashing that infamously perverted expression that had won him many a slap over the years.

" Titties,"

" What about them?" the activist restated without the tiniest hint of frustration. Kenny merely snickered under his breath once more.

" Titties,"

" Where?" Kyle asked, twisting around in an attempt to locate the female his friend might have been talking about. As they had been for several minutes, they were utterly and completely alone. Cartman didn't bother with looking, however. He just glared down at the furiously giggling school girl that was Kenny.

" Shut up, Kinny,"

" Yer mom has titties," the pervert broke down into shrill, puncturing giggles as he said it. In an attempt to muffle them, Kenny released his hold on Stan's hand to cover his mouth with both sets of fingers. The sound was remarkably loud either way.

" I said shut up, Kinny," Cartman warned with an obvious note of threat in his voice. Kyle covered his face in what could be called embarrassment. Stan, on the other hand, just blinked and looked down at his hand.

" Oh,"

" Jesus Christ, Kenny. Get your mind outta the gutter," Kyle mumbled into his palms as he closed his eyes. Regardless of said statement, he did smile and shake his head in amused disbelief. The chuckles faded away as the blond lowered his hands.

" What the hell fer?" he implored innocently. As innocently as someone with the vocabulary as Kenny McCormick could, anyways. Before Kyle could respond in nay fashion, Cartman stepped in.

" Shut up," he ordered with a fierce attitude as he pulled back his hand. Without any other warning, he smacked Kenny in the back of the head. The poor boy immediately whimpered and fussed, throwing his hands up and rubbing the back of his head dramatically and wildly. He pouted and whined and caused quite the commotion without saying a word. The smallest of smiles crossed Cartman's face as he watched his foul mouthed friend react so impassionedly. Stan, on the other hand, placed a hand on Kenny's arm with a protective nature that was impossible to overlook.

Arching an eyebrow, Cartman reached over and snatched up the sleeve of Kenny's orange jacket. He gave it a nice tug and pulled the fussing boy over to him. He wrapped an arm about the shorter boy's shoulders and held him against the ample bulge to his belly. The fussing stopped as quickly as it had started. Rather, Kenny grinned warmly while falling into the embrace. Cartman pushed the hood out of the way and pressed his full cheek into the tangled hair.

" Mah Kinny," Cartman cooed out affectionately. He smoothed his fingers through the blond locks in an almost possessive manner. When he squeezed the slender ruffian into the weight gathered at his middle, it became abundantly clear that the actions were highly possessive.

" Heh," Kenny uttered as he buried his face into his friend's shirt. He beamed and he grinned and he didn't seem to mind whatsoever the claim presented. If anything, he was happier for it.

" What?" Stan asked in a thoroughly not amused tone of voice. The smile on the Nazi's face grew that much wider.

" Mah Kinny," he repeated, although he didn't elaborate in the slightest. Kenny offered no more clarification as he got nice and cozy in the arms of his closest companion.

Eyeing the display of closeness, Kyle frowned deeply as he stepped away from the two. Instead, he eased up to where Stan was staring intently at the hugging duo. The Jew didn't ask permission nor gauge any physical clues of the sort. He merely slipped his hand into Stan's and wrapped both his arms about the activist's one. Once interlocked, he nuzzled his cheek against Stan's shoulder.

" I'm hungry. I didn't have breakfast this morning," Kyle mumbled to his best friend. Stan looked at him with the same deadpan look he usually wore. He tilted his head to the side, though, to rest on the red head's luscious curls. Beside them, Kenny scrunched up his nose and Cartman rolled his eyes with some noticeable frustration behind the action.

" I'd offer ya some of my candy bar, but some stupid Jew threw it out," the Nazi sneered at the Jew without any sort of false kindness. The raw sarcasm was biting at it's best and scathing at it's worse. Either way, it got the desired glare out of those striking emerald eyes.

" Fuck you, fat ass," he hissed back, pushing his cheek deeper into the activist's shoulder. The fire within flickered a bit, as if stretching its legs to feel around for the argument. This one didn't feel like a true battle. Merely an exchange of words between good friends, " It was for your own good. When you have a heart attack, you'll know that,"

To accent his point, Kyle gestured towards Cartman's wide middle. His baited attempt to evaluating the tensions proved his assumption right. The Nazi allowed him the pleasure of a lovely smile, but declined the offer to dance one more round with him. Instead, he rocked Kenny back and forth as the poor boy snickered.

" If he ain't had a fuckin' heart attack by now, he ain't gonna," Kenny assured Kyle with that Cheshire smile, while he smacked his heavy friend in that large belly of his with the back of his hand. Stan nodded in idle agreement, drawing up close to where Kenny was held firmly in Cartman's grip. He attempted to free the pervert, but Cartman held on for dear life. Kenny just broke down in laughter.

Kyle, however, frowned as he turned his eyes away from where his empty arms were left as Stan slipped out of his grip. He looked down at the Nazi's waistline and he bit his lower lip. Those dark waters swam up in a rush so powerfully cold, he nearly drowned outright. Swallowing to prevent it, he twisted away. Facing the door of their destination, he fought back the icy sensation lingering in the back of his mind and the base of his throat. Instead, he reached out and turned the knob to what promised to be an entertaining couple of hours.