I have finally figured out how this website works! I feel so accomplished...
Thank you, people who have read this story and liked it or reviewed it... you're my new best friends now, and I shall stalk you accordingly.
Hehe... just kidding... maybe...
Anywho, here's chapter three. Oh my God, he/she/it/they/you killed Kenny! You bastard(s)! (I be funny, yes?)
All throughout lunch, something in the back of my head, in the back of my throat, in the core of my chest, kept telling me to turn around, to shut out my dysfunctional friends, and to focus all my attention on the strange, quivering blonde boy beside me. Whatever it was, my conscious mind worked hard to shut it out, to shut it up, to punch it in the face, drag it out back, and set it on fire.
After school I had to get away. I left my friends at the bus stop and made my way to Stark's Pond, where I occupied a bench to watch the sun play off the frozen surface of the pond. I felt like such a chick, just sitting there and thinking. Thinking about nothing in particular. Thinking about whatever popped into my head.
One name. One name kept popping into my head. One name and one pair of sparkling blue eyes. Goddamnit, Kenny! Get him out of your head!
Light glinted off the thin layer of ice coating the pond, providing a misty view of the water beneath. When was the last time I drowned to death? I considered walking out into the middle of the pond, waiting for the ice to crack beneath me and for the frigid water to swallow me into its depths, then waking up tomorrow, warm and dry, in my bed. I sighed.
That's how it goes. Live. Die. Wake up. Lather, rinse, repeat. Go on your day as normal. Pretend nothing happened. No one will believe you, anyway.
I sunk back into the old, scraggly fur of my parka, suddenly exhausted. Sleep hit me like a mallet to the head.
When I woke up it had snowed. It had snowed a lot. Snow in South Park has always been as common douche bags in Jersey. Inevitable.
Small piles of snow had gathered on every exposed surface of my body. I was fucking cold. I was slumped back on a bench, still facing the water, like I was before I fell asleep.
"You guys, this is seriously! It looks like Kenny came out here to think! We need a Playboy in here, stat!" A rummaging sound was heard and a Playboy magazine, probably stolen from my backpack, was dangled in front of my face, "Look, Kenny! Titties!"
I groaned, swatting away the magazine, "Get out of my face, fatass." I wasn't feeling creative. And I was completely freezing. I stood and brushed snow off of myself. Kyle and Stan were there, too, looks of genuine concern on their faces.
"Dude, Kenny, Cartman's right. You've been acting really weird today." I didn't really care about what Stan and Kyle were saying. I was more concerned about how I was gonna die that day.
My choices were between a slow and painful death in a hospital bed from hypothermia, or a quick, easy drowning. I could already feel half my face numbing, and limbs falling asleep from the cold. But, underneath that, there was that small tingle of warmth forming. The small tingle of warmth that warned of other, more fatal symptoms.
Yawning, I stretched, and glanced between Stan and Kyle, who were both trying to voice their concern for me in the most emotionally distant, masculine way possible. "Kyle," I interrupted him mid-sentence, "take my backpack home, will ya?"
Head cocked; eyebrows raised. Confusion. Concern. I knew what he was gonna say a second before he said it, "What? Why? Kenny, you're kinda freaking me out right now."
I was already walking toward the pond, onto thin ice that barely supported my weight, "Just take my bag home. I'll see you guys tomorrow."
I heard the ice creak beneath me, saw hairline cracks spider-webbing from each spot where my feet connected. Slowly, I reached the center of the bond, where the depth was at least twice my height. Perfect for drowning quickly and almost painlessly.
I waved at the other three who were still standing at the banks of Stark's Pond, "See y'all tomorrow! Take my bag home for me!" The ice creaked loudly beneath me, and gave into my weight, submerging me quickly into the pond's icy depths.
"Oh my God, Kenny!" Stan shouted.
"You crazy bastard!" Kyle chimed in.
Choking and sputtering, I inhaled the icy water, feeling it fill my lungs with a freezing pain. Then… warmth. My muscles, previously lock from the cold, began to relax. A warmth that started in my core spread to the very tips of my fingers.
