Poison- Chapter 1
I hate everyone. I really do. I hate my English teacher for paring me up with Kenny goddamn McCormick, i hate myself for not disagreeing with her and most of all i hate Kenny. I hate Kenny for not only existing, but existing within the same vicinity as myself.
It's a mystery to me how he even got in to AP English. He doesn't look smart, he doesn't act smart, and he doesn't even talk as though he's got a slight understanding of the English language. Hell, he barely even talks. I've only ever even heard his muffled speech once or twice this year and it's already May. In those two full sentences, he spoke like he's never picked up a text book in his life.
I sigh heavily, letting my head fall onto my desk as everyone gets up to start collaborating with their partners about the poetry project. Collaborating, sure. They're totally not going to just aimlessly talk about unimportant shit together. I hope Kenny has enough sense to at least know I'm not fucking moving. He can haul his ass over here.
Poetry. It had to be a poetry project. I suck at poetry. I'm not good at rhyming; I'm not good at counting syllables or any other shit that goes into good poetry. And i know that you don't need any of that that poetry can mean whatever you want or look however you choose. I know that. It's just that poetry has to have a certain power behind it; a power that i can never seem to capture correctly.
Come to think of it, if I barely made it into AP, how the hell did Kenny manage?
A hesitant tap on my shoulder rips me out of my turmoil and i look up, my cheek still pressed to the desk. What i see makes me want to beat my head against the crème colored plastic.
Hey, new record: it's only first period and I'm already pissed beyond belief.
"Uh, hi." Kenny says quietly, lowering into the desk adjacent to mine. I grunt something resembling a greeting and close my eyes, trying to get my breathing under control. I hear Kenny unzipping his backpack next to me, pulling something out and letting it fall onto the desk. Slightly curious, i see two notebooks and his binder in a small pile, balancing precariously on the edge. As he bends to get something else, i see the minuscule mountain start to topple over.
Before i can even get a word out, Kenny's grabbed all three objects in midair with an amazing amount of both speed and fluidity, holding them all in one fist. I stare at him, gawking slightly. I never knew a human could move so quickly and actually achieve what they were trying to do. Casual, he sets his books back where they belong, digging a pen out of the front pocket of his worn backpack.
"So, i was thinking we could-"
"How the hell did you manage to do that?" I cut him off mid-sentence, still stuck on the super-human abilities he's just displayed. He raises an eyebrow at me, obviously confused.
"Catch my books?"
"Yeah. How did you do that?" Kenny's gaze slides to his desk, then back to me.
"I just did it, dude; i don't know how." He says, shrugging as he turns back to his open binder. I notice he has a notebook open as well, though it doesn't look like one he'd use for school. It's got a gray cover with scribbles and drawings all over it. There's odd little paragraphs of writing that are all clustered at weird places on the page. "So, anyway, i was thinking that maybe we could base our poem off of something i like by-"
"What's in that notebook?" I ask, cutting him off once again. He closes his eyes, slamming the cover of his binder closed.
"Look," He starts, eyes still closed as he raises a hand to massage his temple. "I just want to work on this stupid project without being interrogated. I know you don't like me. I'm trying to make this as painless as possible but you're making that really fucking hard, dude."
Damn. Maybe Kenny's smarter then i give him credit for.
Unable to formulate a complete thought, i just urge Kenny to continue with a curt nod. I barely listen to him as he begins to talk again; i end up just telling him to meet me at my house after school then he ignores me, favoring instead to scribble in his mysterious Notebook With The Gray Cover.
"Why won't you let me see what's in the notebook?" Kenny's head snaps up, his eyes filled with utter surprise. I think he forgot i was even there.
"Why do you want to see what's in the notebook?" He responds slowly, his arms moving to cover the page.
"What's so important about that book?"
"Nothing that would matter to you." I sigh irritably, rubbing my eyes.
"Fucking fine dude. I don't care that much anyway." I mutter, my head clunking back onto the desk. But i do. I do care. I care an insane amount. I'm a curious bastard sometimes and i forgot how much i hate it.
When the bell finally rings, i heave my backpack onto my shoulder and walk out of the classroom, alone. I don't like being alone sometimes; mainly when i have something to think about. Don't get me wrong, i love my alone time. It's fucking precious. My thoughts get too weird and deep sometimes and I just wish that Clyde would randomly come up to me, running his mouth to distract me like he always does. He never really talks to me, though. More like at me. None of my friends talk to me, come to think of it. Only Tweek does. But he'd never randomly approach me in the hallway. He only gets the nerve to speak up when we're alone or with a small group of people. He's too timid.
And i think i scare him a little bit.
I shove one hand into my sweatshirt pocket and the other loops around the strap on my backpack, my fingers curling against the rough black fabric. As i walk into my second period class, i catch a glimpse of Kenny with his head down, his fingers dancing across the touchpad of an outdated iPod Classic. Dirty white headphones wind their way out of his pocket and i notice they're hidden under his hood. Fuck, he's clever. Did he have those on in English? I never even thought of that, damn.
Okay, he's a lot smarter than i gave him credit for.
-x-
At lunch, i slide into my usual seat next to Tweek. Everyone is already deep in conversation, practically ignoring my presence.
"That's not how it works, fatass!" Kyle yelps, gritting his teeth and jumping to his feet. His face is almost the same color as the hair he hides under his hat. "It's part of my religion!"
"But wait," Cartman starts, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. Kyle, who's directly across from him, scoffs and rolls his eyes. "You're missing part of your dick?"
Okay, that's enough. I'm out. I mean, i like dicks... but i don't want to hear about a piece of Kyle's that may or may not be missing. That's far too much information.
I open my lunch and take a bite out of my sandwich, pulling my phone from my pocket. Sighing heavily, i scroll through my music library and choose a loud song, to block out the noise. After a few blissful minutes of just me and my music, i feel as though someone is staring directly at me, effectively ripping me out of my own comfy little world. Everyone at the table has their eyes trained on me.
Except for Kenny, who is still staring at his notebook.
This, for some reason, pisses me off an irrational amount.
"What are you assholes looking at?" I ask irritably, crossing my arms. My gaze slides to Kenny, who doesn't even spare me a glance.
"We're trying to see what kind of lyrics could possibly go with such gay sounding background music." Clyde explains, pursing his lips and leaning in as though it were some sort of glaringly hard scientific question. I narrow my eyes at him, my gaze hardening.
"It's not gay." Kenny says, finally pitching in to the conversation. I blink a few times, everyone's attention turning to him. He stares at them, looking bored. "It's The Scientist, by Coldplay. It's a good song."
"How did you know that?" I ask, crossing my arms. Kenny just shrugs at me.
"Not hard to figure out. Just take the rhythm of the notes you hear and match them up with any song you already know. Then just take the voice you think you hear and narrow it down that way, too." Kenny explains, digging me further and further into fascination with him. "Plus, i love the song. Is that the live version?"
"Yeah," I say, stunned. Kenny smiles slightly.
"That's the best." He says, turning back to the notebook. Its silent for another few moments before the conversations pick back up, successfully leaving me behind to stare at the blonde.
He's a fucking genius.