Author's Note: Here's a bit of sugary fluff to satisfy your sweet tooth A touch shorter than the other chapters, but the next one is going to be much more intense so I figured I'd space it out.

One day, several years later, Kenny found the shoebox under my bed.

"What is this?" he asked, crouchin' down to pull it out from under the bed. He raised a pierced eyebrow at the glitter and stickers that decorated the lid. I just shrugged.

"They're keepsakes," I said, a little embarrassed. I know it's real girlie and lame to keep a shoebox full 'a your ex's mementos under your bed, but I liked having then. I'm a sentimental fella. "I know it's stupid, but, I like to remember the good stuff." He opened the box and pulled out a library card. It was faded and bent in one corner. He pulled out a movie ticket stub, a pressed daisy, and some loose leaf with faded scribbled handwriting. Over his shoulder I could read:

"2:32 pm August 28th

Woman arguing with her friend re. child-rearing books

Woman A favors authoritarian parenting, B is passive

Also, there's a cute boy sitting next to me "

The last line was written much neater than the rest, in a different style of handwriting altogether.

A single birthday card rested on the bottom of the box. Kenny picked it up and flipped it open, but I didn't need to read it over his shoulder to know what it said. "Stay terrific," Kenny muttered, frownin'. "Yours, Bradley." He looked up at me and pouted. "You still talk to that guy?"

"That was a card from my sixteenth birthday, Ken," I laughed. "I haven't talked to ol' Bradley in years!" He was fumin', chewin' on his lip and playin' with a loose thread on his boxers. His eyebrows pinched together as he tossed everything back into the shoebox. "Hey, be careful!" I grabbed the loose leaf, smoothed it over my knee and placed it back in the box gently. Kenny got up and started pacin' as I put everything back under my bed.

"I don't get it," he said, starin' at me. "Why does he get a fucking bedazzled box?"

I blinked. "Are…are you jealous, Ken?" I smiled at the thought of Kenny bein' jealous of Bradley. The idea almost made me laugh! "It's just some keepsakes, you know, like a scrapbook."

"What about my shoebox then?" he snapped. "You've got one for precious Bradley, what about me?"

This time I did laugh. "Well, why would I need a box for you, Kenny? Your keepsakes are all over!" I gestured 'round the room. "That jacket you let me borrow is in my dresser, I got your toothbrush in the bathroom, the flowers you gave me in the kitchen, that DVD box set of Terrence and Philip you gave me for Christmas is on my desk." I took his hand and smiled at him. "I got about a thousand pictures of the two of us all over this place, and you want a little shoebox? Kenny, that box is full of memories, but it's shut and tucked under the bed for a reason. Sure, I got a bit of a soft spot for Bradley—he was a big part 'a figuring out who I am. But that's all over now. And let me tell you, mister—you've been the biggest part 'a becomin' who I am now, who I wanna be. After all we've been through…" He squeezed my hand and I shook my head playfully. "You sure can be real silly, sometimes!"

"I guess so." He smiled and led me to the kitchen so we could make some pancakes.

xxx

A week of suspension, coupled with bein' grounded for a month with extra chores and no cellphone, no TV, no computer (except to use for school work, while my dad watched over my shoulder to make sure I wasn't goin' on Facebook or nothin') and absolutely no complainin'. Not that I would be complainin' anyway. It was hardly the most trouble I'd ever been in, and I figured I probably deserved it. Even if Eric did say some awful mean things, that's just what he did. I'm not sure why I snapped like that, to tell you the truth. It wasn't nothin' Eric hasn't said before. I didn't even bother to tell my parents what he said, no use opening up old wounds.

It was just something about the way Eric just kept on laughin' while I could hear Kenny grittin' his teeth and see Bradley's expression in my head when I'd told him that Eric was the one who got me sent to Camp New Grace in the first place and he'd asked me why I put up with Eric at all. "You taught me to accept myself, so why do you let him treat you like shit? Are you ashamed?" And I just got so confused and frustrated and it all boiled over.

I gotta learn to behave myself.

At least one good thing came out 'a me being suspended and grounded and all: I got to skip the part where Eric walked around school with a bruised nose and a smirk, actin' like it was a battle scar, and leadin' an anti-gay rally out in front of the school where only three other students showed up (Tweek, 'cause Eric threatened to beat him up if he didn't; Clyde 'cause he thought it was a bake sale; and some senior that I'd never heard of) and Wendy got into a huge screamin' match with him. No sir, I got to study for the SATs in peace and quiet while everybody else started to get bored and move on from this drama and focus on the next thing, just like they always do in South Park. Stan and Wendy broke up again, so I was out of the limelight.

I was actually purdy relaxed, to tell you the truth, humin' a cheery tune while I vacuumed my room and waited for the next check-in call from my parents (they were out for the day, lookin' at a new hammock they wanted to bring to their condo in Hawaii then meetin' up with their friends at the bar tonight) when I noticed something stuck to my window.

I turned the vacuum cleaner off and went to investigate. It was bright green construction paper, cut in the shape of a question mark and taped to the outside of my window. When I grabbed it, I noticed some thin writing on the back.

"Lot by the tracks

9pm tonight

~M"

I stared at the note for a few minutes, weighing my options. My parents wouldn't be back 'til late, but they'd sure be sore if they noticed me gone. Then again, Kenny only ever left a note like this when he really wanted to talk about something. And boy, did I miss talkin' to Kenny.

I spent the next several hours cleanin' the house, top to bottom, until every nook and crank was sparkling, just like Mom and Dad said to. When my alarm clock read 8:37 in bright red numbers, I grabbed my jacket, my keys, and folded up the note nice and neat to put in my pocket. I always liked to keep the things Kenny gave me. As I locked the door and set off down the street, I started gettin' this weird mixture of nervous and giddy all tumblin' in my gut. But I wasn't turnin' back.

After all, I was already grounded anyway.

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