Sorry this is late, I've had a lot of distractions as of late keeping me from updating. Still, I will finish this fanfic even if it kills me. Going through, it might even end up being 30+ chapters. Pray for me. Anyway, enjoy!
In accordance to everything else that Evolutionary Genesis Institute, which Stan had already mentally shortened to a simple EGI, had already presented him, a chipper administrator was happy to guide Stan to where he needed to be. He was pointed inside the main building and, before he knew it, he had ended up in the exact same lecture hall where his tour group had met up the day previous.
This time around, however, the seats were full of other students, who all moved to stare at the newest person to awkwardly grab their attention, which he tried to gracefully ignore as he looked for an open seat. He wasn't late, thankfully, but there were very few places left open. The hall was far from huge, too, so the rest of the junior year must have been shoved into another hall somewhere nearby.
Soon enough, Stan spotted an empty seat at the end of the second row, next to the redhead who he'd toured the campus with the day before. In a room where everyone was a stranger to everyone else, Stan took a semblance of comfort in that he'd at least made parcial eye contact with this guy, and figured he might as well just sit next to him. He shuffled along to slide himself into the seat, noticing that the redhead was wearing yet another baggy green sweater that made him look way too small. Stan's seating himself at his side didn't seem to grab the guy's attention, however, as he kept to the book that was in his hands, a set of thick black reading glasses stationed along the bump he had in his nose. Stan thought about looking to see what the book was, then realized how creepy that would've been and promptly decided against it.
The room was full of slight muttering here and there, people introducing themselves and talking about whatever, but Stan wasn't really paying attention. Nobody had any backpacks or books or much of anything at all outside of the schedules, and they all seemed rather calm and collected despite the surreal setting. The strangest thing Stan figured was that there was no adult there yet, no teacher or supervisor or anything. Not even a mutant expert or whatever.
It was as Stan wondered if such a thing as a "mutant expert" existed that the door opened and two people entered, one of them being the blond English man who had introduced Principal Gray at the speech the previous night. The other was an older woman, probably in her late forties, and it was her who moved to stand directly in the center of the room's front while the blond, whose name had slipped Stan's mind, stationed himself against the wall by the door. He was the spectator, there to observe, and Stan felt a twinge of suspicion bloom inside the pit of his stomach.
"Good morning juniors," the woman called up to the students, and most settled into silence to listen. Stan tore his gaze away from the blond to give her his attention. "My name is Mrs. Lehrer, and I am one of the science professors here and Evolutionary Genesis Institute." She seemed genuinely happy to be there, and Stan was almost surprised. A happy teacher was a phenomenon rare to witness firsthand, and he wondered if this new job paid her well. "So today will be dedicated to helping you figure out your schedules and meeting your new classmates. The plan is to do introductions first, and then we'll let you go for lunch. After that, you can have the rest of the day to familiarizing yourself with the grounds and rest up for the testing we'll be having tomorrow. After testing day, regular school schedules will be in effect."
"Excuse me." Stan turned to see the redhead next to him holding up his hand and calling out for Mrs. Lehrer's attention. She gladly gave it to him.
"Yes, young man?"
"I would like to know the exact details of tomorrows testing," the redhead said as he took his reading glasses off and placed them on the table in front of him. "Like, what you'll be testing, exactly."
Mrs. Lehrer moved to sit at the teacher's desk at to her right.
"Well, it's all fairly simple. You'll all be graded based on a studied performance involving your mutations, your capabilities and capacities. It's not a competition and it's not a grade that will affect your academic performance, but it's important for us to document each and every student's proficiency and test you based on a number system. Does that make sense?"
The redhead merely nodded, like he'd been forced to ask the question in the first place and hadn't really cared about the answer. With the guy's mother, Stan figured that there was a good chance that it was true.
"Further information can be found in your guides, and I'll happily take questions after orientation" Mrs. Lehrer said, taking a remote control from inside her desk and pointing it toward the board. The screen instantly clicked on, and the board suddenly had a list presented on it. "Alright, everyone, I'll call you up by last name, and would like for you to say your name, where you live, your mutation, what kind of career path you'd like to pursue after graduation, and one thing you hope this institute will help you accomplish."
The list was just that, as a means to remind students and help them prepare their answers beforehand. Stan took mental note and began forming his what he would say so he wouldn't come across as an idiot to the people he'd have to be around for the next two years. First impressions, after all, were important.
The first was Lola Abney, a girl with clairvoyance from Wisconsin. A few others went by, one with the ability to spit acid, another who could breathe under water, one who could talk to electronics, and a boy named Token Black who had super strength, or, as he called it, "the ability to lift things vastly heavier than a normal person could lift."
It was all going fast enough, and finally there was a name that Mrs. Lehrer couldn't pronounce properly. It was going to happen sooner or later.
"Next we have Kyle… Bro…"
"Broflovski."
Next to Stan, the redhead stood. He placed his glasses on top of his book, shuffled past Stan and down to the center spot, and Stan was finally able to get a good look at him without feeling creepy. Kyle was skinny but with a round face and ears, his skin pale and his eyes sharp and the brightest green Stan had ever seen in his life.
"Sorry, Mr. Broflovski," Mrs. Lehrer apologizes, and Kyle responded without even turning around.
"It's fine, everyone mispronounces it."
He was almost impossibly calm, Stan noted, watching as Kyle took in the faces of the rest of his classmates with a tranquility that Stan was immediately jealous of.
"Hi. I'm Kyle, I'm from San Francisco, and I'm telekinetic." Unlike some of the other students before him, Kyle made no move to demonstrate his powers, but instead just kept talking in the most rehearsed voice he could have possibly used. "I've also got some telepathy and some mental shielding, although I'm definitely nowhere near as good at that. I would hope to graduate from Harvard with a Masters degree in Neuroscience… and, I guess I want a good recommendation from the Human and Mutant Coalition. For college. So I can make something of myself."
Kyle's quiet determination was almost scary. After he'd finished, he returned to where he was sitting, and Mrs. Lehrer continued.
Next was Timothy Burch, the only student in the room in a wheelchair. He stayed where he was in the first row, and Mrs. Lehrer mentioned that his ability was something called echolocation, and Stan could only guess as to what that meant.
"Thank you, Timmy. Eric Cartman?"
"Finally," was muttered behind Stan. He quietly turned to see a tall and powerful looking boy with shaggy brown hair move from his seat and in front of the other students. He was wearing a comfortable red hoodie, and every action he took exuded confidence. He had a belly, round ears and nose, and brown eyes that almost looked black.
"Eric Cartman," he began, sounding like he was pitching himself, "from Denver, Colorado, and I can do this." He held out his right hand and, from the cup of his palm, a collection of sparks erupted and stopped only when he balled his fist. He grinned with all of his teeth. "Pretty sweet, right? What I want-"
The brunet's dark brown eyes were surveying the crowd, but, as he spoke, Stan swore his gaze landed somewhere close to him. It was almost as though he were directing his words… Kyle. He was looking at Kyle, Stan was sure of it.
"-Is to become stronger. And there's no way in hell I'd share my goals for the future with anyone. Since they are awesome and amazing, I'm terribly afraid that someone might steal them should they ever be presented with the opportunity to do so. But don't worry," he finished with a happy grin. "I'll definitely be making something of myself."
Stan didn't feel it was his place to look over and see if Kyle noticed this, as well, but with the way Eric finished his sentence in almost the exact same way as Kyle did, there was definitely something up with the two of them.
"Okay, thank you, Eric," Mrs. Lehrer smiled, and Eric returned to his seat. "Alright, next is Christophe DeLorn."
Nobody moved.
"Is he not-?"
Before she could finish, however, the blond standing against the wall spoke up.
"Sorry to interrupt, Ma'am. Mr. DeLorn is a transfer student from Lyon, France. I'm afraid his English is not that clear as of yet. If you wouldn't mind letting him sit this one out, I'm sure he would appreciate it."
Lehrer was so charmed by this dapper young man that she grinned and instantly accepted that.
"Oh, no, Mr. Thorn, not at all. There's no problem."
Mr. Thorn, Stan remembered, that was his name. Something with a G Thorn. Thorn took this time to approach a student in the front row, one with ragged brown hair and deep bags under his eyes. This much have been Christophe, and Stan listened as they mumbled back and forth in French.
"Vous êtes bien, vous n'êtes pas obligé de parler. Nous ne voulons pas de problèmes," Thorn said, and the French guy shrugged.
"Vraiment je ne me soucie pas."
"I suppose that means that next will be Clyde Donovan," Mrs. Lehrer said, and from one of the higher seats jumped the stocky brunet that Stan had toured with the day before. He was wearing the same dumb letter jacket and the same stupid grin.
"What's up, guys, I am Clyde Donovan, coolest kid you'll ever meet from St. Louis, and I can multiply. What's better than one Clyde?" Clyde's form slid like paper, splitting into multiple different physical bodies. "Five Clydes, that's what," said the original as four other versions of himself stood close by with grins of their own, and in another blink, they'd morphed back into their initial body. "Yeah, it's pretty cool. Um, I dunno what I want as far as a career, but I want to be the kind of guy who is his own boss. And I just wanted a new change of scenery."
Stan waited patiently for his name as other students took their turn. There were at least a hundred kids in the same room, so he took his time to properly word his answers in his head.
Finally, his name was called.
"Alright, next we have… Stanley Marsh."
Nerves suddenly squirming about in his belly, Stan stood and moved down the stairs, and fit himself where everyone else had been previously. There were hundred of eyes on him, and he knew he was thankful his last name wasn't at the end of the alphabet.
"It's just Stan," he corrected. "Actually. So, hi. My name's Stan, I'm-"
"Stop!" someone hissed. Stan looked over, as did everyone else, to see Kyle glaring over his shoulder at Eric Cartman, who was seated behind him. Eric himself looked baffled as to why Kyle was even speaking to him at all.
"Is there a problem, Mr. Broflovski?" Mrs. Lehrer asked, and once Kyle realized the attention he'd gotten, he swiftly turned forward in his seat, his face slightly pink.
"No. Sorry."
Mrs. Lehrer huffed under her breath before motioning for Stan to continue.
"Um, yeah," Stan said, speaking up so that everyone could hear him. "My name's Stan, and I-"
"Will you stop that!"
It was Kyle again, his voice shrill and sharp and pissed. He'd whirled backward and snapped in Eric's face, although over what, Stan couldn't tell.
"Mr. Broflovski!" Mrs. Lehrer gasped, a frown stretching across her jaw.
Kyle turned to face her so as to properly defend himself, pointing to the brunet. "He keeps shocking me!"
Eric gasped, looking so innocent he had to be guilty. "I can assure you that I am doing no such thing," he assured Mrs. Lehrer, but the lanky boy with black hair sitting next to him spoke up.
"Whatever, dude, you totally were."
"That's fucking slander!" Eric cried, slamming his fist onto the table.
Mrs. Lehrer herself stood to make order, and Stan saw Mr. Thorn tense and take a few steps forward out of the corner of his eye.
"Mr. Cartman!" she scolded. "Please refrain from cursing. You and Mr. Broflovski need to sit down and be respectful now."
With a scowl and tensed shoulders, Kyle did as he was told and returned to his chair. Eric Cartman did the same, and Stan watched as he leaned forward and said, loud enough that even Stan could hear-
"Stupid Jew."
Everyone froze, including Mrs. Lehrer and Thorn, but Kyle wasted no time. He spun around in his chair and stood, and before Eric could respond, he'd been hoisted forcefully into the air, pulled about five feet off the ground by nothing but Kyle's willpower.
"What did you call me!?" Kyle barked, and Stan swore that he could see bits of Kyle's hair being lightly tussed about by what looked like wind.
The blond sitting to Eric's right let out a little yell, and both he and the dark haired boy at Eric's left moved back and watched as the brunet struggled in the invisible grip of Kyle's telekinesis. Stan stood where he was, almost petrified, and it seemed that no one else had any idea of how to react, either. Mrs. Lehrer was about to shout something, but before she could, Mr. Thorn ran past Stan and up to the seats.
"Mr. Broflovski, set him down," he ordered, almost impossibly calm. Stan honestly didn't think that that would work, but whatever he had done did the trick. Kyle made eye contact with Thorn from over his shoulder, took in a deep breath and lowered Eric down and back into his seat. The brunet's face was bright red, his face twisted in embarrassment, and he had to shuffle back into his chair to avoid falling to the floor once Kyle had let him go completely.
"Okay, okay!" Mrs. Lehrer had gotten control of herself and stood, placing herself next to Mr. Thorn. She pointing at both Kyle and Eric before moving her finger towards the door. "You two! Out! Now!"
Kyle opened his mouth, as if to protest, but he bit back whatever he'd meant to say, balled his fists, and snatched up his book and glasses. Eric followed with a frown of his own, glaring daggers into the back of Kyle's head.
Mr. Thorn laid a hand on her shoulder and gave her a charming smile. "I'll escort them to the office, Ma'am."
She grinned back at him, batted her eyelashes a few times. "Thank you, Mr. Thorn," she almost cooed, returning to her desk as the blond began ushering both Kyle and Eric out of the room.
"Come on, then," Thorn was saying as Kyle huffed past him and towards the door, Eric following right behind.
"Look what you did," Stan heard the brunet hissing under his breath in Kyle's direction, and the redhead spat his retort much louder.
"What I did? You're fucking kidding, right?"
"Jesus," Stan muttered to himself as Thorn closed the door behind them. He wondered if Thorn was in way over his head having two mutants pissed off at each other in his company, speculating on if Thorn himself had a power that could save his skin should he need it.
It was only when Mrs. Lehrer spoke that Stan realized that he was stood out in the front of the room in full view of everyone. He straightened up and sucked in his breath, his mind erasing all the answers he'd perfectly crafted before the commotion as the sensation of vacancy engulfed him.
"Please, Stanley," Mrs. Lehrer said from her desk. "Continue."
"It's just Stan," he stammered out, "and I can talk to animals." He hesitated, brain scrambling to recall what he'd had planned. Thanks to Kyle and Eric, that was all gone now. "Well, not talk exactly, but… like… I can empathetically sense what they're communicating. I guess. It's weird. And…" Another pause, and he almost felt like he was drowning in his awkward blunders. "Okay, so I'm from Denver. Highlands Ranch, really, which is just south of Denver, and, since I'm good with animals… for obvious reasons, I'd like to be a vet. And." He took a moment to look back at the screen to make sure he was on track. "I guess I just want to figure my mutation out. How it works, and what I can use it for. Plus I've never met any mutants before, so I figured why not."
Stan finished and trudged back to his seat as quickly as he could, red in the face and embarrassed. He'd fucked up pretty bad, and he was sure that everyone else in the room surely though he was a complete idiot with how he'd acted.
"Thank you, Stan," Mrs. Lehrer said, sounding perfectly fine with the performance he'd given. "Next we have Mr. Kenny McCormick."
"Figures that dumbass got kicked out before I got called," Stan heard from behind him. He moved to look over his shoulder, but turned the other direction when the owner of the voice moved past him and down the stairs.
Mr. Kenny McCormick was a short and button-nosed blond with a golden head of hair and the dullest blue eyes- no, gray eyes, Stan mused. They were gray. On his torso was a worn down and slightly tattered orange parka, his face lightly dotted with freckles and his eyelashes surprisingly thick and dark for someone with yellow hair. He stood in the same spot in the front with a quiet and calm sense about him, and when he and Stan met eyes, he smiled.
"So, I'm Kenny," he began, thrusting his hands into his coat pockets. "I'm from Sterling, and so is Cartman, and…" He hesitated, too, although seemingly for dramatic effect, since his next words came out effortlessly. "I can't die. Like, I really should be buried six feet under by this point, but my body just puts itself back. Problem is, I don't really have a goal. Not for school, or for a job, or anything. Never really seemed a big priority 'til now. So I don't have much of an answer for those last ones."
With Kyle and Eric out of the room, everything went smoothly.
Bebe Stevens was a girl from Carrie, Illinois, who could transform into whoever she wanted. Her actual form had thick and frizzy blond hair that she'd pulled back into a ponytail. She made a quick demonstration for the class by temporarily turning into Mrs. Lehrer and then Jennifer Lawrence before telling everyone she wanted a career in Marine Biology.
"Thank you, Ms. Stevens. Next we have Leopold Stotch."
Even without completing the list, Stan knew that "Leopold Stotch" won as far as the strangest name. Leopold was the tiny blond Stan had also seen in yesterday's group, and he was as cheerful now as he had been then.
"Hi," he began, and Stan couldn't help but speculate where that accent had come from, "my name is Leopold, but everyone usually just calls me Butters. I'm from Richmond, Virginia, and I can bring things to life. Things that weren't alive before, like pencils and curtains and vacuums. I almost gave my mom a heart attack once by makin' the lamp in our living room dance around. Well, I don't think I make them alive, exactly, but they can move and stuff. My old coach called it animation. Um, I guess I just want to do what I can, go to school and maybe own my own bookstore or start a game company or something. Or I could be a librarian, or a kindergarten teacher! Something fun like that. So, that's me."
Butters was an even worse name than Leopold, but Stan could see how the nickname fit the butter blond. As he turned to leave, Mrs. Lehrer called Butters back.
"Oh, Leopold, what would you like for the school to accomplish for you?"
"Uh, well." Butters bit at his lip, and looked up to the other students. "My parents want the school to get rid of my powers."
Butters paused and for a solid moment, everything was dead silent. Nobody moved or made even the smallest noise, and Stan wondered if that was because they all felt the same rush of ice through their veins like he did. There were probably a ton of kids there for the same reason, but Butters was the only one who could even voice it. His parents wanted to change him, to make him "normal." Stan let that sink in as he sucked air into his lungs and held his breath.
Standing there in the awkward atmosphere he'd created, Butters eventually stuttered to get back on track. "But I really like them, and I want to keep them, so I guess I just wanted to meet a bunch of other people like me, too."
Even Mrs. Lehrer looked a bit worried. "Thank you very much, Leopold."
"Oh, you can call me Butters, Ma'am," the blond said with a cheerful smile as he returned to his seat.
"Okay. Next is Wendy Testinburger."
"That's Wendy Testaburger, Ma'am." The voice was sharp and mature, sounding from behind Stan. He immediately turned to watch a skinny girl with impossibly long black hair descend the steps to his left and station herself up front. She stood straight, held her hands behind her back, and had to most focused expression Stan had ever seen, even moreso than Kyle.
She was also super cute. Stan sucked the air back into his lungs as he leaned forward and listened.
"Hello, my name is Wendy, and I can manipulate the element of fire." She said this as she held out her left hand, creating a tiny little ball of fire about an inch from her skin. After a second, she continued, taking back her hand and addressing the audience as though she were being interviewed. "I'm from Tacoma, Washington, and attended a private school in Seattle before I received my invitation to attend this academy. For my future, I have the dream of becoming a law student at Yale before earning my Masters so I can be up and running my own firm by my early 30s. I believe fully that mutants are oppressed here in the United States despite being full-fledged citizens, and am appalled by how our government and therefore society is treating those who have the X-gene. So, naturally, when I was invited to attend a prestigious institute built for the specific purpose of helping young mutants with their abilities, to encourage instead of shame, I jumped at the chance. I wish to see this institute flourish, and wanted to try it out for myself."
Many guys might be detracted by some of the things Wendy said. Politics, extreme devotion to intelligence and justice, and that whole controlling fire thing, but Stan was impressed. He watched her ascend the stairs with a light fluttering in his chest, and when his stomach got heavy, he hoped it wasn't nausea.
"That was wonderful. Thank you, Ms. Testiburger."
Wendy stopped and turned, a slight frown on her face. "Testaburger, Ma'am."
"Of course," Mrs. Lehrer muttered. "Now, Mr. Craig Tucker, if you could join us up here."
The gangly kid that had been sitting next to Eric, the one with the sunglasses, did as he was told. His facial features were all pointed and sharp. He wasn't smiling or frowning, didn't look uptight or too relaxed, he just got up there with a straight face and did what he was supposed to.
"I'm Craig." He touched his glasses, shuffling them slightly on his nose. "I can't take these off, because that's my mutation, which is lasers that come out of my eyes. It's not a constant thing, but sometimes I could, I dunno, sneeze and trigger it, and it goes off and breaks a ton of stuff, so I'm being cautious, now. Let's see, I'm from Salem, New Jersey, I wanna be an architect, and my parents forced me to be here." He paused. "So, yeah." And left to go back to his seat without another word.
"Thank you, Craig," Mrs. Lehrer sighed. With so many students to get through, she was exhausted.
The list was finished by the next half hour, and Stan had seen and heard of so many mutations, some he would have never been aware of, otherwise. By noon, the students were released for lunch, and without having anyone that he'd sat next to or met for most of the period, Stan walked by himself in the crowded hallways and stood in line at the cafeteria. He'd picked out a turkey club sandwich with fries for the side, paid using the new student ID he had in his wallet, and found himself an empty table on the first floor.
He sat there with his earphones in, quietly taking in the world around him, when somebody tapped on his shoulder.
Stan looked up, instantly struck by the impossible red. It was Kyle, a pleasant smile on his face. Stan pulled out his earphones to see what he wanted.
"Hey," Kyle grinned.
"Um, hi," Stan said after swallowing down the sandwich in his mouth, and without being invited to, Kyle sat down next to him.
"I wanted to apologize."
"For what?" Stan asked, honestly confused. Kyle hadn't done a thing to him, after all.
"Interrupting you," Kyle answered with a tiny sigh, flashing Stan an apologetic look. "Sorry, it was rude."
"It's fine. That Cartman guy was shocking you." Stan almost said "Eric", but instead used his last name the same way Kenny had. For some reason, it seemed a much better fit.
Kyle let out an angry breath and rolled his eyes."Yeah, he's a prick. I don't know what I did to piss him off, but he wasn't letting up. But I didn't mean to mess up your introduction." There was a hesitation, and the redhead held out his hand for a shake as he balanced his tray on his left arm. "I'm Kyle."
Stan already knew that, but he decided to go with it. "Stan," he said as he took Kyle's hand and gave it one single shake. He expected Kyle to be gone after his apology, but the San Franciscan stayed where he was and leaned against the table as he picked at his own lunch.
"So, what is it, then?" Kyle casually asked, and Stan had to think back to where in the conversation they were. In lieu of his confusion, his brain came up with the only response appropriate for the time.
"What?"
Kyle's grin widened as he pierced his salad with his fork and stuffed the lettuce into his mouth. "Your mutation, dude. I didn't get to hear it."
Stan thought about it for a second. "In comparison to yours, it's pretty lame," he eventually said, truthfully. He'd witnessed Kyle doing amazing things firsthand without hardly knowing him, so Stan figured he wouldn't be impressed with his ability to know what a dog was thinking.
"Oh, come on," Kyle prompted, "I'm sure it's cool."
"I…" Stan looked over at him with the full intent on keeping the redhead guessing, but stopped. Kyle had a terribly honest face. An expressive one, too, and as they kept up the eye contact, Stan couldn't find it in himself to be dishonest.
"Okay, fine," he said. "I talk to animals."
"Really?" Kyle's smile fell and his eyes widened slightly as he leaned closer. He didn't sound as indifferent as Stan thought he should be.
"Like I said, it's pretty lame."
Kyle let out a snort. "Dude, whatever, I think that's pretty sweet. How do you do it? Does your brain like translate it to English or something?"
Stan almost wanted to laugh at how suddenly invested Kyle was, or at least was pretending to be. It was near impossible to tell whether he was serious or not, so Stan decided to play it straight and be nice. He needed some friends, anyway, and Kyle's emotional energy, the little Stan felt, was super inviting and affable. No point in being an anti-social prick.
"No, it's all empathetic and shit. I can sense what they're thinking, almost, and it just kind of calculates it. I think they know it, too, because animals always follow me everywhere." Kyle still looked fascinated, so Stan let out a smile and shook his head. "Dude, I saw you pick that electricity guy with your mind, there's no way you're impressed by this."
"I'm serious!" Kyle protested.
At that moment, a new voice chimed in. Stan and Kyle both glanced up to see Kenny McCormick, standing awkwardly with his tray of food with a look of pure causality on his face. "Hey, mind if I join you? Everywhere else is full, and I kind-of sort-of know you."
"Knock yourself out," Kyle said with a shrug before turning back to his food. His smile had fallen, just a bit. Kenny took the time to look over at Stan for confirmation, so Stan nodded and motioned to the spot on his other side. The blond let a breath out of his nose, smiled, and slipped into the seat. He plopped down his tray with a sandwich and cutie and turned to speak to Kyle from around Stan.
"You're the guy that got kicked out with Cartman." Stan noticed Kyle's expression sour slightly, and Kenny laughed. "Sorry about that, he's an idiot. I'm Kenny. And you're Kyle," he said with a point to the redhead before turning it to Stan instead. "And you're Stan. Moving shit with your brain, and talking to animals."
"Telekinesis," Kyle corrected as the stabbed a strawberry and bit down on it. "But I've got some telepathy, too."
"So you could read my mind?" Kenny asked. Stan listened, wondering where Kenny had kept this energy the last he'd seen him. "Like right now?"
Kyle let out another shrug. "Not really. I kind of can, if I concentrate. But the real question is, do I want to read your thoughts?"
Kenny let out a laugh, a real laugh from his gut, and he smacked his knee. Kyle also smiled for the first time since Kenny sat down, and Stan felt it in himself to smile, too. "No. No you do not."
He must have somehow past Kyle's test of character, because the psychic was suddenly happy to include him in their conversation. "Stan was just telling me about how he can talk to animals, since fatass and I missed it."
"Ooh," Kenny said as he leaned closer to Stan. "Do tell."
"You guys seriously don't have to pretend to be impressed," Stan said between them. "I'm fully aware that my power is pretty lame in comparison to telekinesis and indestructibility."
"What?" Kenny gasped, and Stan again was having trouble knowing whether he was being serious or not. He really was bad with people. "Who said anything about that being lame?"
"Think of all the scientific breakthroughs we could make by communicating with animals!" Kyle added, and he jumped when another tray of food all but crashed onto the table next to him.
"Yeah, like how Fido here can stand listening to your voice."
Everybody instantly looked up to see Cartman, in all his glory, grinning down at Kyle with all the subtlety of a clown, and Stan frowned at his new nickname. He really was a huge guy, Stan reflected, and he noticed Kyle bristling like a cat at his side.
"Dude, Cartman," Kenny started, but he stopped when Cartman's eyes flicked over to him as the brunet took the seat on Kyle's other side.
"What?" he asked. His tone was dripping with insincerity.
Kyle's grin and pleasant attitude were out the window by this point. Stan could only imagine the shitty thoughts going through redhead's mind as Cartman's insult sunk in, but he must have decided to take the higher ground and use words instead of force.
"Look," Kyle said after a deep breath in through his nose. "I don't know what I did to piss you off, but I really don't give a shit. Could you just, I dunno, fuck off?"
Cartman snorted. "I'm just trying to sit and have lunch with my friend Kenny, here," he said. He and his toothy grin were in Kyle's face, and even without his empathy working well with people, Stan could literally feel Kyle's aggravation rolling off him in waves. "No need to rude, Jew."
Kenny groaned. "Cartman, just shut up." But his attempt at being a peacekeeper failed utterly as Kyle grabbed hold of Cartman's shirt collar and gave him a particularly violent shove. The brunet almost fell out his chair, but he kept himself upright after grabbing the table edge for stability. A few people at nearby tables hushed their voices and peered over to see if a fight was going to break out, something Stan was pretty sure wasn't outside of the realm of possibilities.
"What's your fucking deal?" Kyle growled through his teeth.
"I dunno, just something about you struck a nerve." Cartman kept his stance and sat up straight. Kyle was only slightly shorter than Stan, but he looked like a goddamn kid in comparison to Cartman. Still, he stood his ground. "What, you gonna pick me up again?"
Kyle obviously had some kind of anger problem, one he must have been consciously working on, since he took in another deep breath and settled back into his seat. "And make you scream like a little girl? No, I'm above that. Plus I don't think it'd be as funny a second time."
That definitely pissed Cartman off, since that smirk of his was practically slapped off his face. When he opened his mouth to retort, however, another couple of bodies approached the table and proved a decent distraction for everyone.
"Is it cool if we sit with you?" It was Craig, as stoic as he'd been that morning, with Clyde, Token and Tweek flanking him. "Everywhere else is full of seniors and girls."
"Sit between fatty and red," Clyde said with a stupid grin, motioning to Cartman giving Kyle his best death glare. "It looks like they're about ready to kill each other."
"Pretty much," Kenny said, straight faced. He was probably being serious. Stan peeked over to see Cartman still glaring at Kyle, his cheeks almost pink and his hairy eyebrows furrowed down, but with a grunt, he got up and moved to sit by Kenny, instead. Tweek took his spot, and Kyle visibly calmed down a good few notches.
"Working out your problems like adults?" the brunet, Clyde, asked as he cracked open his soda. The question wasn't really directed at Kyle or Cartman specifically, but Kyle chose to respond.
"I doubt it."
Cartman didn't say anything.
"So, dude," Clyde said as he turned to Kenny, his eyes wide and stupidly curious. "Tell me if I'm overstepping my boundaries or whatever, but you can't die? Like, at all?"
Kenny hesitated, his mouth twisted and expression almost beyond words, but it instantly morphed into a sloppy grin. "I got shot once, right here," he said far too casually, pointing to the right of his forehead. Stan couldn't help but stare at the specific point of the blond's skull and see it cracked open, and he felt his stomach flip. "Healed up in seconds. I did black out for like a minute, though."
Tweek made a frightened gasp sound that startled Kyle a bit, but nobody else seemed to notice. The only other person to immediately react was Cartman, who let air out of his nose without even bothering to look up from his mac and cheese.
"Damn, that's fucked up," Craig remarked. "Cool, but fucked up."
Kenny laughed. "You shoot lasers from your retinas and it's me who's fucked up?"
"Actually, it's lit radiation that forms in the gel that makes up the center of my eyes, and is collected along the retina and outlets through the pupil," Craig corrected, and Token groaned over his tray, dropping his fork. He was the only one using actual metal cutlery, and Stan wondered if Token had to use them just to avoid instantly breaking the plastic wear the rest of them had.
"Guys, could we maybe talk about something else?" Token asked. "I'm trying to eat."
"Whatever, dude," Craig said. He must have been rolling his eyes under those glasses, Stan was sure of it.
"I agree with him," Stan said. All eyes turned to him, but he found that it didn't bother him. "I'd like to keep my lunch in my stomach, if you don't mind."
Craig snorted. "Lightweights."
"Nobody wants to hear about your eyeball gunk, Tucker," Kenny retorted, and Craig flipped him a casual bird, causing most of them to laugh. Even Kyle was chuckling.
Cartman left first, quickly and without saying anything, and once he was out of view, Kyle sat up straighter and got all the more involved in the conversation that had built up about the last Superbowl. Stan occasionally threw in his two cents, and whatever nervous kinks he'd had in his system were gone by the time everyone was up and leaving.
Stan stood up to throw his trash away and leave his tray, and when he turned around, Kyle was there, his eyes wide and expectant.
"Wanna go look around with me?"
"Sure," Stan nodded. He was actually grateful, since a part of him had wanted some company through the day, and he was glad that it was Kyle and that the redhead had approached him first.
"I wanted to find all my classrooms, and I figured we could do that together," Kyle said, discarding his own garbage.
"Sounds great."
They left in a decently comfortable silence, but upon leaving through the side doors of the cafeteria and out into the sunlight, Kyle continued. "Sorry if I'm bossy. It's because I am. Or, actually." He sighed. "I'm really bad at making friends. At least I think I am."
"I think you're doing fine," Stan said with a shrug. He was being honest. "Although I'm totally way worse at it than you, so I might not be the best to tell you that."
Kyle smiled at that, his eyelashes almost invisible in the light, but it died down as he pulled at his sweater's collar.
"Shit, why is it so hot?" he asked.
There was a beat until Stan realized that Kyle was serious. "It's August, dude."
"Isn't Colorado supposed to be, like, always super cold and snowy?"
"You're thinking of Canada, I think," Stan said as he shook his head, and he bit back a laugh when Kyle frowned up at the sun. "Or Greenland or something. Seriously, though, we get a lot of snow in the winter, and sometimes June, but we get super hot summers."
"It's a great thing I mostly only brought sweaters with me, then." Kyle nudged his way out of his sweater and tied the sleeves around his waist when Stan noticed his T-shirt. It was the poster for the first Terrance and Phillip movie from the late 90s, Asses of Fire.
"You like Terrance and Phillip?" Stan asked, sounding the most energized he'd been all day.
Kyle blinked twice, then let a goofy grin take over his jaw when he realized where Stan's interest was coming from. "Okay, I wear this shirt around my friends back home all the time, and they made fun of me so hard I had to say I bought it ironically so they'd leave me alone. But I've honestly watched Asses of Fire near a thousand times. It's dumb as shit, but I love it."
Stan nodded. "Truly a gem of the 1990s filmography. My mom banned it in our house, so I had to watch it at my friend's house until I was fifteen. I think he still has the original VHS."
"Oh my god, that's amazing," Kyle laughed. "My mom banned it, too, but she still won't let me watch it."
Stan let out a laugh, but when Kyle didn't respond, he stopped.
"Seriously?" he asked, and Kyle gave him a small nod as he awkwardly moved his weight from one foot to the other. His grin had fallen just slightly, and he suddenly looked a little uncomfortable.
"Uh, yeah." They were like that for a moment before Kyle decided to change the subject, and Stan was happy to comply. "I have all the seasons on DVD, too."
"Even season seven?" Season seven was the final and most rare season, mostly because it had been banned in America for its three abortion jokes and the use of the word "queef."
Kyle nodded. "I had to bid over a hundred bucks on eBay and have it shipped down from Canada, but yeah. Totally worth it."
The conversation kept on track for the most part aside from a few awkward blunders here and there, but with their schedules in hand and new buildings to explore, the atmosphere was as relaxed as Stan figured Kyle could get. They'd made it up to the third floor of the second building, one where most of the math and science classes were, when a voice called out from amid a crowd of what looked like freshmen, catching Kyle's attention.
"Hey, dork!"
Kyle instantly looked up and turned in the direction of the light insult, and Stan stopped and turned to see a tiny, skinny kid with stylish black hair approach them. The kid, who had been socializing with the group of chatty freshmen, was smirking ear-to-ear, his brown eyes reflecting the sunlight from the nearest window.
Despite the name-calling, Kyle seemed happy to have run into this kid. "Don't test me, brat," he warned, but his voice was warm and friendly. Stan was about to open his mouth to speak when the kid's eyes flicked over to him.
"Who's this?"
Remembering that Stan was there with him, Kyle straightened up a bit. "Ike, this is Stan," the redhead said, motioning between the two. "Stan, this is my little brother, Ike."
Little brother. Stan stood there, lost completely to the idea that these two brothers who were super comfortable with each other looked absolutely nothing alike. Sure they were both pale and skinny, but the similarities between them ended there. Ike was slightly more tanned, had a sharp and pointed nose and ears with the slightest bit of muscle on his arms, probably from playing sports or something. He was wearing a hockey jersey and had the straightest and thinnest hair Stan had ever seen. Kyle, contrastly, was as pale and gangly as they came, short even with those brown boots and adorned in a stupid movie poster shirt with that amazing red hair that sprung like coils from his scalp.
"U-" Stan attempted to speak, but Ike interrupted him.
"Um, hi." It was a little disconcerting, given that was exactly what Stan was going to say, even in the exact same tone, and Ike seemed to take in his confusion with an ever-widening grin. He turned to Kyle, gesturing to Stan with his thumb. "He seems nice."
Kyle rolled his eyes, sighing. "Stop being a dick, Ike. Now, did you want something?"
"Mom said I had to give this to you," Ike said as he reached into his backpack and pulled out an envelope, handing it over to his older brother. "She also told me a lot of other stuff, but I forgot what."
That got Kyle frowning, and he crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows just slightly. "You've got precognition and you forgot."
Ike's impish smirk remained in place and he shrugged his shoulders. "Strange how that works. Anyway, I've got places to be. Have fun with your new boyfriend."
The kid turned tail and was gone as quickly as he'd come, and with how calmly Kyle transitioned back into what they were doing beforehand, Stan figured that the two must be like that all the time. He was made a little awkward by the use of the term "boyfriend", but Kyle seemed to barely notice it at all. Must be from living in San Francisco.
"He seems…" He paused, searching for the best word. "Energetic."
Kyle chuckled at that. "Nah, he's an asshole. But, hey, he's my little brother, I'm contractually obligated to care about the turd."
"You two look nothing alike," Stan said as they made their way down the hall. "Does he take after your dad or something?"
"Uh, no." Kyle shook his head, and Stan almost wanted to smile with the way the redhead's curls bounced around. "He's adopted. It's kind of a miracle we ended up siblings, what with us both being mutants, and both psychic to boot. Only difference is that he can see the future, which only serves to heighten his assholish tendencies. Honestly, there's nothing worse than a brother you can't even prank." As he spoke, he tore open the envelope and pulled out its contents, although his slightly hopeful expression was soon dropped. "Oh, joy, my daily nurses pass," he said as dryly as possible.
"What do you need that for?" Stan asked, but then reared back a bit. "Or should I not ask?"
Kyle laughed, and as if to solidify their newly formed friendship, he gave Stan a light punch in the arm. "It's just for my insulin, dude, I'm not contagious. Unless your mutation is the ability to absorb my diabetes, I think we'll be fine." He and Stan continued on, and Stan wondered what it was about Kyle that made him feel so warm and at-ease.
Stan kept to Kyle's side the rest of the day out of an honest sense of companionship. They went through Kyle's schedule first, and of course Stan was impressed with the courses he was taking- Advanced placement on both Physics and Calculus, Psychology, Human Anatomy, Sociology, Introduction to Health Sciences, and something called Reaching Your Academic Potential, which scared Stan more than anything. Kyle's English and art classes were less impressive, and Stanknew that he did not envy Kyle for the coming year with all the homework he'd undoubtedly be doing.
Because of Kyle's greater focus on science than anything, they mostly went around the second building for him, wandering in and out of classrooms here and there so Kyle could establish exactly what he'd be doing. They talked the whole time about just whatever, mostly movies, of which their tastes were super similar, and music, which they were almost complete opposites, and everything just seemed peaceful. Around them, all the other students were doing something similar, some by themselves and some in groups as they scanned their schedules and wandered the halls.
They went through Stan's schedule second, which part of him resented. He'd wished that he'd gone first so that his academic performance didn't pale in comparison to Kyle's, but even if the redhead thought that way at all, he didn't voice it. Stan's classes were far more colorful and all over the map, from his simple English III to his Japanese I, but with choices like Contemporary World Issues, Earth Science and Song Writing, they had to wander almost the entire grounds just so he could see everything.
Throughout the day, Stan soaked in Kyle's good mood like sunlight. Something about Kyle - happy Kyle, at least - captured his empathy more than any other person he'd ever met. Usually it was only something he could get from animals, or rarely his friends at school, but with Kyle, Stan's own emotions were paralleling themselves to his the way it normally would with Sparky. Like he was reminding him of the best things about home. It was weirdly wonderful, and the hours flew by without Stan even realizing it.
With a final stop at the cafeteria at six for some dinner, grilled cheese and tomato soup for Kyle and a burger and fries for Stan, they made it back to the dorms by eight as the main grounds got less and less crowded. Curfew was at 9:30, as they'd been reminded, and god knew what kind of staff the school had for students that wanted to ignore that rule.
Stan's first impression when the entered their dorm was that almost everyone was upstairs already. Everything on both the first and second levels were lit and active outside of the dorm office and shop, and before they could go up the stairs, Kyle stopped them.
"Hey, let's go check out that fancy TV they've got in that one room," he said, and Stan immediately agreed with him.
"Oh, yeah, I totally forgot about that."
The rec room had other people in it, of course, but nobody had touched the TV. There were two girls sharing one of the laptops and laughing at something, while a group of boys sat at the table filling some kind of paperwork out.
They took over the center couch and flipped the TV on, and by the time they'd decided on an episode of Seinfeld that was already halfway done, the boys had up and left. It took them to the end of the episode, both settling into close to complete silence, for the girls to notice the time and take their leave, as well.
Stan checked the clock up on the wall. 9:10. He and Kyle had been hanging out for close to eight hours, but it didn't even feel like it. He had no idea how well Kyle handled sentimental crap, but decided to try and thank him for his friendship or something. It was the most he could do.
"Hey, so," he began, catching the redhead's attention away from the screen. "You've been really cool today."
Kyle smiled. "Yeah, you too."
"Why'd you want to hang out with me, anyway?" Stan asked, and Kyle hesitated.
"Wanna hear the lame but true answer or the less lame but dishonest answer?"
Stan grinned and sat up. "The first duty of every officer is to the truth, whether it's scientific truth or historical truth or personal truth."
"Who said that, Winston Churchill?"
"Captain Picard, actually."
Kyle let out one large guttural laugh, flopping back against the sofa. "Oh my god, you're a Trekkie." They sat there as Kyle deliberated, but it didn't take very long. "Fine. You reminded me of Ike."
Stan thought back to Kyle's weird and impish little brother and wondered if that was a compliment or not.
"Plus," Kyle continued, "you looked nervous. I can't do the empathy thing, but I could see that you were needed a little push to get past it. Was I right?"
"Yeah," Stan said, knowing Kyle was right. "I think so."
"Thank god. I wasn't lying when I said I was shit at meeting people. My friends back in California are mostly just assholes I go to school with. But you guys are cool."
"Except Cartman, that is."
"Do you know what that asshole's problem is?" Kyle asked, sounding genuinely curious. "Because I sure don't."
Stan shrugged. "I don't know, dude. My empathy's way more accessible to animals, not douchebags. Just ignore him, he probably gets off on the attention."
"You're probably right."
There was a question, one that had been in the back of Stan's mind since day one of this whole mutant thing, back when he'd gotten that letter, and it was suddenly back and determined. It bit around his consciousness and prodded him, demanding that he should get Kyle's opinion. Kyle was Stan's friend, he was cool and smart and fun to be around, but they barely knew each other.
Stan bit his lip, and knew he had to try it, anyway.
"So how'd your parents react? When you told them about being a mutant."
It was a hard question to answer, Stan knew, but he needed confirmation that he wasn't the odd one out for feeling the way he did. He thought back to Butters, telling everyone that his parents wanted him to "get rid of it", like his mutation was a disease.
Like he was diseased.
Kyle himself paused, looking as though he were mentally clawing for the right answer.
"Well," he began, "to be honest, they didn't know until about five months ago. See, my mom's kind of crazy. Well, strict. She's super pro-mutant and super short-sighted. Ike, and I, well…" Pause. "We both wanted to keep our mutations as far away from our mom as possible. We didn't want her using us for her own gain, even if she wouldn't mean to do it that way. I love her of course, but, I dunno, when they did find out, she was mad, not because we were mutants, but because we didn't tell her. And my dad has no spine when it comes to her, he just sort of seemed cool with it." He hesitated to let his answer sink in before, "Why do you ask?"
"I didn't tell my parents until just recently, either," Stan stated, happy to finally be getting this out. "I just kind of feel like my mutation is just a part of me, like my taste in music or the color of my hair. It never really occured to me that I should be open about it. Like, should I be looking at myself differently now?"
Kyle's laugh for a response surprised him. Stan looked up to see the redhead stretch his arms and get up onto his feet. He was smiling, and Stan felt warm surging through him.
"No offense, dude, but I think you're overthinking it. You've got an amazing power, yes, and no matter how you feel about it, your family and friends and everyone here knows about it. It's on your medical record. And really, your mutation is pretty useful. Veterinary schools would probably kill to get you to study with them. Hell, I bet you could get a great career in animal science." He held out his hand for Stan to take, which he did, and soon they were both standing. "So don't worry about it. But I suck major ass at giving good advice, so don't listen to me."
Kyle totally wanted Stan to listen to him and take his advice, but his attempts at being consciously humble were genuine, so Stan smiled.
"Says the guy who wants to be a brain surgeon. So, you gonna look into that job thing, too? The one in that nearby town?"
"No," Kyle stated plainly. "My mom doesn't want me distracted from my studies. And really, I kind of agree."
"Don't you want some extra money?"
Kyle flashed Stan a look he couldn't read as he pulled his paperwork from his pocket. "My parents set up that allowance thing for Ike and I. My dad's a lawyer, and we live in downtown San Francisco. I'm fine. So, what room are you in?"
"4-17," Stan answered, the idea of Kyle being rich throwing him off balance.
"Damn, I'm in 3-12. At least we're pretty close."
They meandered their way to the stairs and made it up a flight as Stan scanned his papers. "Oh, hey," he said, "It says who our roommates are." He paused to read the name. Kenny McCormick. "Oh, cool, Kenny's my roommate."
Kyle stopped and turned on the front of his boots to face Stan, his eyes wide and curious. "Wait, it says who our roommates are?"
"Yeah, right there." Stan took Kyle's paper to show him, but pulled back when he saw what was written there. "Oh, god."
"What?" Kyle asked, ripping the paper back. Stan barely had time to react before Kyle had crumpled it up in his fist and took off running up to the third floor. "Shit!"
"Dude, wait!" Stan followed, moving up the next flight of stairs and into the boy's dorm. Since everyone was still in the process of both moving in and meeting each other, almost all the doors were open and the hallway was littered here and there with suitcases that were still waiting to be unpacked. Kyle didn't seem to have much of a problem finding his room, and Stan almost tripped over three different backpacks by the time he's managed to catch up.
Once he'd reached Kyle, the redhead had already procured his room key and all but smashed the door in, seething with an unsettled bitterness. He needed proof that the paper was right, that he had every right to be upset.
Cartman had beat them to room 3-12, each and every one of his bags open with his things casually thrown all over the place, especially over the other bed. Kyle stormed into the room and Cartman turned to give him a sickly sweet smile.
"Welcome home, roomie," he cooed, and when he noticed Stan at the door, his eyes lit up. "Oh, and you brought your new boyfriend the housewarming party."
Stan took a few steps inside, curious as to what would possibly happen, and watched Kyle from a safe distance.
"No," was the first thing that came out of Kyle's mouth. He turned away, grabbing into his pocket for his phone, and Stan almost took a step back at Kyle's frighteningly angry expression. "There is no fucking way in hell that I'm going to be stuck with you all semester."
"It's a year-long thing," Stan chimed in, which caused Cartman to bust out laughing and Kyle to snap.
"Who do I need to call?!" Kyle snarled, marching past Stan and back from where he'd come as he pulled his phone up to his ear. "I am calling somebody!"
The other students all stopped what they were doing at the sudden commotion and came to watch the show from their doorways. Stan wandered after Kyle back down the corridor, almost thrown off by the audience they'd gotten. Kyle himself either didn't notice or didn't care, as he marched back towards the stairs without even bothering to acknowledge any of them.
Stan watched bemused as Kyle found the dorm office closed on the first floor and dialed their number in a blast of enraged energy. He thought about Kyle telling him about his mom, how "crazy" she was, and knew immediately that it was an inherited trait. Kyle was super scary when he was mad, and damn if he didn't have psychic powers to make himself look all the more terrifying.
"Are you sure you can't do anything tonight?" Kyle asked into the phone. Stan had sat himself on the bench outside of the office and watched Kyle make frantic conversation with the poor soul on the other end. He sounded almost desperate, and was trying to work with the person he'd probably woken up or torn away from a TV drama.
"Well, not exactly, but…" Kyle trailed off, absently swaying from one foot to another, before some kind of compromise was made. "Fine," he sighed. "So, okay, fill out the slip and give it to the dorm supervisor. Fine. Thanks." He hung up, and looked to Stan for some sympathy. Stan figured it was well-earned, so he kept to Kyle's side as they again ascended the stairs back to level 3.
"They can't do shit. Not tonight, anyway." Kyle clicked his tongue, his nose wrinkled and eyes narrowed. "Just my luck I get stuck with the anti-semitic asswipe as my roommate."
"It's just one night," Stan said in condolence. They made it back to Kyle, and technically Cartman's, room and Stan tried reassuring his new friend with a smile. "Hopefully they can get you moved tomorrow."
"Easy for you to say," Kyle said. "Your roommate isn't Cartman." He sighed, moved to unlock the door, and flashed Stan a meek smile. "See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah," Stan said with a slight grin of his own. "Night."
Stan looked back as he made his way down the hall, but Kyle had already entered 3-12, and Stan wished his new friend a silent good luck for the potentially rough night. He made his way up the stairs at a slow and even pace, watching as doors closed all around him. No teenager in their right mind would be asleep by 9:30 normally, but curfew was a rule, and Stan assumed everyone must have been exhausted from their travels, anyway.
Finally, Stan found himself in front of 4-17. He groped into his pocket and found the key card, clicking it open and letting himself in. For the most part, he hadn't really been expecting anything, but what he saw struck him as odd. Kenny was there, asleep in his bed wearing nothing but the same pair of jeans he'd worn that day with every single light left on. Stan checked, and found that not even the bathroom light was an exception. He switched it off and moved into the main space, silently wondering if he was the odd one for needing complete darkness while trying to sleep.
As he approached, he heard the sounds of Kenny softly snoring and listened to it as he rummaged through his luggage for his pajama bottoms.
"You're all really weird," Stan found himself telling the sleeping Kenny for no real reason. He found his flannel bottoms and hopped into them as he looked around the room. His room, for the next ten months. It was the exact same as everyone elses', not that big but not that small and almost entirely white. There was window in between the two beds, but when Stan tried peering out of the glass to see the room's view, he found that the dark of night had made it impossible for him to take in the view.
All of Stan's things had made it, all four bags, three pillows and old school boombox sitting comfortably at the bottom of his bed, while Kenny's…
Stan's thoughts trailed off as he looked to the end of Kenny's bed and saw three bags, backpacks, and nothing else. His eyes moved along the walls and noticed Kenny had no posters. His desk had nothing on it, nor did his nightstand. Kenny barely had anything.
Stan sucked back some air, trying to forget that particularly uncomfortable thought. Maybe Kenny was still waiting for the rest of his things to get there. Jumping to conclusions wasn't something Stan should be doing.
He plugged his phone into its charger and checked his messages. Three texts, two from his mom-
How are you doing, sweetie? and Don't forget to call me!
"Shit," Stan muttered under his breath. That was what he'd been forgetting. He quickly typed her a message.
So sorry mom, I got distracted. New friends to meet and schedule to figure out. It's curfew and my roommates sleeping, I don't want to wake him. Call you tomorrow morning definately!
The third was from his sister.
Hey twerp, mom called me and was all nostalgic and shit. Don't fuck this up. See you at Thanksgiving.
For some reason, Stan smiled at this one. Shelly was even more unsentimental than he was, and he figured that this was her way of being nice. Stan's leaving home early must have really had its affect on his mom, though, and Stan couldn't help but think up an image of his mom calling Shelly and talking about her memories of their childhoods until Shelly couldn't take it anymore. Her use of the word "twerp" even reminded him of Kyle casually calling Ike a brat and an asshole just as casually as if he'd called him anything else, and something about that made him like the text all the more.
He set down his phone, retrieved his toothbrush and toothpaste from his backpack, and passed the snoring Kenny to go to the bathroom. When he'd returned with his newly cleaned mouth, he'd gotten another message.
If not, then I'm calling you! I mean it! Love you xoxo
Setting his alarm for 9 and worming into bed, Stan's mind raged about the details of his day as he yawned and tried to get himself to fall asleep. The day had been weird, but nothing about it felt disingenuous. Everything had really fallen nicely into place. Stan almost already felt at home, like he'd known Kyle and Kenny and Clyde and all those other guys for a while now.
Comfortable.
Yes, that was it. Stan was comfortable.
As it turned out, it was Kenny's rhythmic snoring that got him to drift off without him even realizing it.
But the foundation is crumbling
Becoming one with the ground
Ugh, more setup. Can you tell I'm more comfortable with dialogue than anything else?
*Hint: Chapter titles are based on songs, and the end text is lyrics that are either foreshadowing for future plot points or fit with the theme of the chapter. They are also good songs, give them a listen while you read if you want.
I probably won't update until January, so have a wonderful holiday, everyone!