Kenny won, 2:1. Vote more and I'll update faster. Another chapter to come later this week I'm hoping!!

Mariah

Chapter 2: Orange Is A Prisoners' Color.

~Kenny~

I was beginning to think that someone stole my cigarettes again.

I don't typically just lose them. They're, like, 8 bucks a pack. You just don't lose stuff that expensive.

But as I dug through my locker, I began to believe that someone was taking them. This was the third box; this asshole was costing me money.

But the only one who knew my combination was…

"H-Hiya Kenny!" I turned to my left to see little ol' Butters Scotch with that nervous smile that's always plastered on his face. When he saw my frustrated and annoyed expression, he cocked his head to the side.

"Wh-What's the matter?"

"Someone stole my ciggs again." I muttered.

"Oh, that's too bad Ken. But smoking's bad. It puts this tar stuff in your lungs and-"I slammed my locker shut.

"I know that Butters. But I'm not going to quit." Ever since high school started, and our gang started to expand, Butters decided at some point to make me his new best friend. Why? At the time, I didn't care. Now, I don't see a point in asking.

Slowly, we've been changing each other. He's been pushing good habits onto me, like doing my homework and showering every day. I've been pushing bad habits onto him, like sneaking out at night, skipping class, and the occasional curse here and there. We kind of balance each other out.

"Well boy howdy, why not?!" he asked. I could tell he was getting angry. He always did when this conversation comes up. The one thing he openly hates about me is my smoking habit.

"Because I don't see a point." I replied. Might as well be honest with him. We're "best friends" after all. " I don't care what happens to me, and its my body, I can do what I want with it." He scowled.

"Well some people do care what happens to you Ken! A-and this is just slowly killing you."

"The sooner the better, I always say." He started to tremble a bit. Ahh, great, now he's really mad.

"Why don't you think about somebody other than yourself?!" I blinked, startled by his outburst. He turned red, then pushed past me and ran off.

I didn't know what he was talking about. I cared about other people. Like my mom, who I gave my paycheck to after working 40 hours a week because she's too sick to work. Or my sister Kelly, who I take care of like she's my own daughter. Or my older brother Kevin, who's too absorbed with his heroin addiction to keep a steady job. Like Stan and Kyle, who I hide most of this information from so that they don't get hurt.

If anything, I care about myself the least, but Butters is the last person to know that. He doesn't know a goddamn thing about me.

I sighed. I couldn't tell Butters anything. I accepted that even if it meant he thought I was selfish.

I didn't care what Butters thought anyway.

I was about to leave for class when I realized I didn't have a pen again. So I opened Butter's locker, and planned to just borrow one from him. He wouldn't mind, I know he wouldn't. Next to his blue lunchbox was about four pens, three pencils…

And a box of Marlboro cigarettes.

My cigarettes!

I was angry, of course. But I wasn't going to yell at him for it. He was just trying to help me.

He was just being horribly annoying with it.

I couldn't be mean to Butters, couldn't yell at him. There was something about him that just wouldn't let me.

I couldn't understand myself at all.

So I took a pen and my ciggs, shoved them into my pocket and walked into the history classroom, just as the bell was ringing.

"Mr. McCormick. So glad you could join us. Please take a seat." My teacher said. I was late all the time, but she was too nice to ever report me. I liked her.

"Yes Ma'am." I drawled with a fake southern accent, and then strutted over to my seat behind Butters like I owned the place.

Cocky huh? Yeah, that's me.

I relaxed behind Butters, and then leaned forward to whisper into his ear.

"You know, stealing can get you suspended. I would know." I huffed a breath of hot hair onto his neck.

When he jumped, I smiled.

Eventually, the teacher let us just hang out for the last few minutes of class. I knew there was a reason I liked her, despite the fact she was pretty banging.

Butters turned in his seat to face me, looking guilty.

"Gosh Kenny, you-you're not sore at me are you? I was just trying to-"

"Help. Yeah, I know." I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Look Butters. I appreciate what you're intentions are, but this is like trying to push a cart sideways or something. I'm not easily changed, and frankly, I don't see a reason why I should change. You're wasting your-" He interrupted me.

"No, I'm not Ken, Really. I…want to help you. You're my b-best friend…I care about you." These words from Butters didn't make any sense to me. Why would Butters want to care about me, when I've purposely given him a million reasons not to? It wasn't right, I wasn't worth his attention. And more importantly…

Did I care about him?

Oddly, the response came easily. Yes I do. A lot more then I had originally thought.

And that scared me.

Thankfully, the bell rang, and I stood up to hear a rip. I looked down; my orange sweatshirt sleeve had torn. Again. Great.

"What's wrong Ken?" I sighed.

"My sweatshirt ripped again. I'm going to have to throw it out. I've worn that ugly orange hoodie as long as I could remember. I didn't like it, but it was, literally, all I had. It was orange, like a prisoners' jumpsuit. I was a prisoner in this damn life.

"Well, do you have another one?" He asked me. I sighed again. "Nope, guess I'm going without."

I left the classroom after that, embarrassed. Being poor really, really sucked.

But being attached to someone and not knowing why sucked more.

Next chapter; Tweek.