Craig had just walked the dogs–Pitch was a black Labrador and Cocoa, chocolate–when his little sister came dashing in the door. She giggled as she ran past. He looked up, forgetting to stop pouring the dog food into their bowls and the dogs wound up having to eat a third of the bag's contents off the floor.

He knew he was being paranoid, but he had a feeling she had met a boy. He had to admit–he was just a teensy bit over-protective…

Okay, so he ended up making the last boy who came over run home crying–that didn't make him extremely over-protective. The kid was obviously using the science project as an excuse to get up her skirt.

He tossed the bag onto the ground, leaving the dogs fighting over the contents behind as he walked into the kitchen. "Cassie?"

Cassie poked her head out from behind the refrigerator door. "Yes, Craig?"

"What are you so cheery about?"

Her smile instantly faded. She looked nervous, her pale green eyes darting anywhere but on his face. "Oh, n-nothing… I just… O-One of– Jessie said she'd be coming over tomorrow to help with one of the things our six weeks test will be over… It's a poem…"

Craig raised a brow. "Oh? What's the poem called?"

"Th-The Bells…"

Craig narrowed his eyes, trying to pinpoint why it sounded so familiar. "Isn't that the poem about the two roads and one of them is worn down and the other's overgrown with weeds or something like that?"

Cassie thought for a moment and nodded her head. "Yes. By Robert Frost." She ducked down behind the fridge again and popped back out with a pudding snack. She closed the fridge and went to the silverware drawer, grabbing a spoon.

After a moment, Craig glared. "Wait, no…"

Cassie turned her head and stared at him, eyes wide. "What?"

"That poem's called 'The Road Less Traveled'. 'The Bells' is something else… Who is it really by and why are you hiding it from me?" His eyebrows rose all of a sudden. "You're bringing a boy over, aren't you!?"

She smiled sheepishly, stuffing a spoonful of chocolate pudding into her mouth.

Craig wheeled on her, almost frantic. "Who is it!? What's his name!? It better not be Dougie! That kid is in the eighth grade and is a total– Actually, that's okay. He wouldn't try anything… He probably wouldn't know what to try…"

She rolled her eyes and walked into the living room. "Craig, it's not Dougie. And it's just… Well, it doesn't matter, anyway! He's really nice and is such a gentleman!"

"Cassie…" He lowered his voice, just to be sure. He knew she knew very well that he was wrapped around her finger and that he wouldn't actually do anything, but it didn't hurt to try.

"You couldn't make him leave if you tried! He's got a strong-will and he's very cute! I'm appalled that you'd think of trying to make him leave! You did that to Timothy, and he was so funny!"

"He had problems in math and had a severe obsession with Monty Python and British humor. Nothing good can come from that!"

"It's better than those stupid cartoons you watch! Red Racer isn't even all that good! The dubbing's terrible, and all the characters over-dramatize everything! Besides, the animation is below par!"

Craig flipped her off and she returned the gesture. "You take that back! Red Racer is a classic! You can't beat the classics! Monty Python is the most retarded thing in the entire world!"

She stuck her tongue out; one of the dogs jumped on the couch and started barking wildly. Craig groaned and decided to leave it alone for a while. Eventually she would see the light of reason–dating was for girls who were married. That was the only proper way for things to be. He had to get to the door–Cocoa only ever jumped on the couch when someone was walking down the driveway.

He grumbled and opened the door. Instead of Clyde or Token or Tweek he was met with the little pale face of Peter, the littlest Goth. He glared down at the boy, sizing him up, looking to see if he was going to try something.

"Yeah? What do you want?"

Peter just handed him a book, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "Cassandra left her textbook at school. She ran off before I could give it back to her… Tell her I'll be over at five tomorrow."

Craig grimaced and Peter looked slightly frightened. "Is five a bad time?"

Craig nodded. "Yes, we'll be eating then."

Peter thought about it for a moment before looking back up at him, hopeful. "Is six alright?"

"Sorry. We have long dinners."

"…Seven?"

"That's when we have dessert. Sorry, Peter. Tomorrow won't be a good time. If youmust know, never will be a great time. Why don't you come back then?"

Peter blinked, looking slightly surprised before he stifled a smile and his face went icy. "That's alright. I'll come over with her after school. You aren't eating dinner now, so I suppose that means you won't be eating it tomorrow at this time, either. Nice try, though…"

Craig frowned, tossing the book back at him. He took a step forward, enough so Peter would have to look straight up to look him in the eye. "Listen, you little–"

"Oh! Hi, Peter! Why'd you come over??"

He took a step back as Cassie pushed past him. She cooed, flipping her blonde hair over one shoulder. "Is my brother trying to scare you?"

Peter nodded, bending down and picking up her textbook. "Yes, but he's failing miserably." He handed it to her, and she took it eagerly, hugging it against her chest.

"Well, I'm very sorry he's being such an asshole."

Peter smiled a little. "That's alright. I'm used to dealing with douche bags. Thorne can be quite the ass-monger."

Cassie giggled. "Yeah, he's a weird one…"

Craig stepped in. "How do you know about Thorne??" She blinked, staring at him as if he were crazy. She glanced at Peter, who smiled sheepishly and took a few steps back, waving. He mouthed the word, "Bye," and she waved back, pushing Craig back in the house and shutting the door.

The second it was closed, she wheeled on him.

"For your information, Thorne was the one that suggested Peter come over to my house and help me with understanding that poem. 'The Bells' is by Edgar Allen Poe, and I'm having a very hard time figuring out the symbolism. On the last reading quiz, I completely failed because of that poem. My grade is riding on whether I learn this poem or not. You should be thanking them for offering to help!"

Craig had been backed into a corner, terrified by how angry his little sister had gotten. He wasn't a pussy, but he was a bit soft when it came to his sister. He hated when she was mad at him, and the thought that she'd hate him scared him half to death.

"O-Okay. I'll try to be on my best behavior. But you have to at least let me try to push him out of here. If he's really worthy of being in your presence he should be able to deal with me."

Cassie sat the textbook by the door and cracked her knuckles. "It's not a date! So stop treating every boy that comes near me like a sexual predator!! I can handle myself! Part of growing up is having experiences, and I can't learn on my own with you smothering me!"

She huffed and stormed out of the room and Craig just stood there feeling somewhat guilty. He couldn't help it–she was his little sister. He was supposed to protect her, and all the boys in South Park were complete animals. He knew–he was one of them, after all. And he was not going to be like Kenny and his little sister, Karen. Those two were at each other's throats because Kenny thought she was too slutty for her own good.

Craig would rather die than let his sister turn into a slut.

––––––––––––––––––––

Thorne grunted and shifted his weight off the mailbox. Peter had left, and it sounded like Craig and his little sister were getting into a fight. He glanced at Peter, noticing his moody face…or, moodier than usual.

"You gave her back her textbook, Pete?" Peter nodded, but said nothing. After a while, Thorne sighed. "I still don't see why you like her so much. She's a conforming little bitch…"

Peter shot him a dirty look. "She's not. She's actually more unconventional than you'd think… She acts like one of the girls…but she's really only got one friend at school… She's more crass than the other girls, and they don't really like hanging around her… Most of her friends are boys because she relates to them more…"

Thorne snorted. "Her? The one that likes wearing pink and glossing her lips? She'sunconventional? This is Craig's sister we're talking about. He's on the football team–the football team!"

Peter shrugged. "She acts real happy all the time, but sometimes I catch her frowning during lunch or after school… I don't know…she's just not all she appears… It's…interesting…"

Thorne rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't tell me–you think she's going to end up being a Goth in the near future… You know what her brother would do to me if he thought we 'converted' her or some shit like that? He kicked my ass for no reason the other day; what do you think he'd do to me if he found a reason for it?"

Peter frowned. "I'm sorry… I didn't think he'd do something like that…but…weren't you the one that tried to get her to say something to me so that I'd have a little bit of a chance?"

"Yes, because I think you should have a chance. Don't worry about me. You're a good kid. Craig will see that…eventually…" He grimaced, obviously not liking the idea of the next few months…or years…before that. "Either way, you could just say that I have a thing against that douche and I know the only way to get under his skin is through his sister."

"You aren't planning anything…are you?"

"No. I'm just using this opportunity to throw it in his face and make him uncomfortable…" He laughed, making Peter look at him nervously. After a while he just ruffled the younger boy's hair. "Don't worry, Pete. I wouldn't hurt her or anything. I just want to piss off her brother."

1) "The Road Less Traveled", by Robert Frost
The poem she described was this one, by Robert Frost. Of course, she ended up lying to him, since it was really "The Bells", which is by Edgar Allen Poe. To be honest, you won't see as much Poe in this story as you did in Mr. Brightside (If you read it, that is).

2) Timothy
Timothy is actually based off of my own cousin. He has that... I wouldn't call it "dyslexia", but it makes him have trouble in math. So, if he turns over a page, sometimes he sees the numbers all jumbled on the next page. In fact, it was so hardly noticeable, they didn't find out about it until two years ago. He's a big theatre geek, and he wants to be a comedian. (He's funny as HELL, by the way.) And, you guessed it, he likes Monty Python.

3) Monty Python
It's ironic that Craig would say that the classics are the best when he says Monty Python is absolutely retarded. Since, you know, Monty Python IS one of the classics.