Here it is! The next chapter, entitled "Family". I know it seems wordy and mildly off-plot, but it plays a massive role in the story. I know it's up a bit later than I had originally planned, but that's because I had a few things go wrong when writing it. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it, because I really did enjoy writing it. Ah. Yes. There are probably a few mistakes, because I was in a bit of a hurry to type it up. If you find a mistake that you want fixed, just tell me and I'll fix it.
Kenny went home late Sunday night, and no one had seen him or heard from him since then.
He had gone home hopeful and in high spirits after his night with Kyle. After their short discussion on sexuality (which Kenny had found beyond hilarious), they finished watching a 4-hour marathon of Manswers, followed by a couple of UFC reruns, and eventually decided to crawl in to bed (much to the relief of the rest of the Broflovski family who had arrived home part way through the last hour of Manswers). He had, indeed, slept on the couch that night, and it was the best sleep he had gotten in a long while. Kyle had slept upstairs, in his room, and Kenny had made good on his promise of behaving, not even flicking through the channels to find some interesting looking adult entertainment. The Only even remotely devious thing he did since making his promise was to call a purring "goodnight, sweetie" to his friend's retreating form, which caused him to quicken his pace and, the blonde could only guess because the redhead's back was to him, blush. The rest of the night and the following day were fairly uneventful until the two parted ways.
Kenny wished the uneventfulness could have stretched on.
When he finally got home, wearing clothes he had left at Kyle's for exactly this sort of situation, he noticed a few things. First, Kevin (his older brother by two years) was passed out in the front yard among empty bottles, cans, and a scattering of rusting car parts. Second, he was only wearing dirt-covered boxers and one hole filled sock. The younger McCormick boy sighed and grabbed the elder boy under the arms and pulled him into the garage, planning on rolling him on to the sleeping bag bed that was set up for such things. When he had finally managed to haul Kevin's 170 pounds of dead weight in to the garage and up to the 'bed', he found it was already occupied. Among the foul smelling sleeping bags sat a small, female form. His little sister Karen. Karen, six years Kenny's junior, seemed to be the only positive constant in his life. She sat, curled up in a little ball, on the pile of ratty blankets, clutching a small stuffed cat that Kenny had bought when she was born. He watched her sleep for a little, her tiny side lifting up and down with slow, rhythmic breaths, before remembering he needed to shove Kevin onto the makeshift bed.
With a small frown and a wish to leave her be, he crouched down and nudged her. "Karen." He whispered, brushing a few strands of hair from her face. "Karebear." He said her nickname a little louder than he had her real name. He also placed a hand on her tiny shoulder and shook her as gently as possible. He was always gentle with Karen; she just seemed so delicate and frail. Kenny had hoped that after he left, his parents would have calmed down at least a bit, but – if Karen sleeping in the garage was any sign – they hadn't. he
The blonde's nudging and urging was answered by a quiet groan and the feeling of his sister shifting under his hand. "Hey. Karen." He bushed a few more strands of tangled brown hair out of her face while smiling softly.
"You're home." The 10 year old sat up, yawned, and stretched, all the while regarding her sweater clad older brother with a sort of sleepy adoration.
"Mmmhmm. I'm home." He hugged her, an action that she happily returned. Kenny wasn't really a huggy person, but he made an exception when it came to his little sister. "Can you do me a favour?" the blonde picked up the stuffed cat from where it lay on the blankets, handing it to the small girl.
Karen rubbed he big, blue, McCormick eyes and nodded. Like her brothers, she preferred not to speak, and instead was content to not or shrug. It was a habit that they had developed over the years in an attempt to keep themselves under the radar at home.
"I want you to go up to my room and wait for me, kay?" His question was answered by yet another nod and a barely suppressed yawn. "Be real quiet," he added, "we can't let mom and dad know that you're staying with me again." Karen staying with her older brothers was one of the main reasons Mr. And Mrs. McCormick got mad at the little girl. When she was scared, she'd stay in either Kenny or Kevin's room (usually Kenny, because he was much less likely to be drunk than Kevin, who used the alcohol to escape) so she could feel safe enough to at least get a little bit of sleep. Once again, the seemingly muter girl nodded before hugging Kenny, kissing Kevin on the head, and quietly slipping through the doorway that lead to the house, careful not to bump the door that hung open on one rusted hinge. Kenny couldn't remember the last time it had been closed.
"Now…" the lanky, straw-haired teen breathed, grabbing his brother under the arms once again and heaving him on to the rank sleeping bags. He then pulled a particularly warm looking one over him to keep him from freezing. You owe me, Kev. He thought before following his sister's path to the house.
Inside, he found his father passed out on the couch in front of their second hand TV, which was currently displaying some particularly disturbing porn on its black and white screen. Kenny paused, debating on whether or not to watch the program, but decided against it and ventured further in to the filthy house.
It was a large house and, under all the grime, garbage, and smoke stains, it was fairly beautiful. Kenny had seen pictures of the house when the McCormicks had just moved in, before Stuart and Carol had taken to smoking and drinking heavily, squandering all of their money on booze and smokes in place of repairs and cleaning supplies, and he thought that it would have been a house to be proud of. He and his brother did odd jobs around town to pay the bills and buy the rare bit of food, after their parents traded food stamps to support their addictions.
Walking passed the kitchen, the teen was so deep in thought that he almost didn't notice his mother, who was asleep at the table, snoring loudly with a burnt down cigarette hanging out of her mouth. The last few embers were dying as he looked at her. He considered waking her to say that he was home, but thought better o fit and continued to the creaking stairs that lead to the second floor and his bedroom.
Karen was waiting for him, wearing on of Kenny's faded old band t-shirts that fell to her knees and a pair of rather ratty-looking sweat pants. She held the stuffed cat by its tail, making the teen think of the first time he had sewn it back on. He remembered how many times he had jabbed the needle into his fingers almost fondly, knowing that he was helping his sister.
"I was quiet." She whispered, running an old brush through her messy hair.
Kenny couldn't help but smile as the young girl struggled to pull the brush through her nearly waist-length hair. He nudged the door shut behind him, leaving a small crack between it and the doorjamb so he could hear if either of his parents were approaching before walking over and silently taking the brush from his little sister. He carefully ran it through her hair, basking in the feeling of unconditional familial love.
Kenny loved no strings attached relationships; it's why he bounced from partner to partner. He couldn't afford to get attached and have his attention drawn away from his family. After a few minutes of rhythmic brush strokes, Karen began to hum a song that Carol had once sung to them during her sober moments. Eventually, Kenny joined in and the two sat humming. Karen's soft, high hum was accented by her brother's low, bass tone rumble.
They were so caught up in their rare moment of comforting peace that they didn't hear Stuart stumbling up the steps.
Kyle looked at his phone for what felt like the hundredth time since Kenny had left, wanting more than anything to send a message asking if his friend was okay. He knew it was stupid – Kenny would come back if things were too bad at home – but he still couldn't help but make himself sick with worry. The anxious teen scraped food off of his family's dishes as the rest of the Broflovskis filed in to the living room to watch something on the television. He scrubbed and rinsed each dish as though he were washing away the awkward memory of the night before.
All of the imagery and shared words were still fresh in his mind, but what stuck out the most wasn't being stripped naked, or even the should-have-been-scarring realization of Kenny's intentions. It was the way that the non-too-picky blonde had described his sexuality.
"Ambiguous…" the still-fidgety teen muttered as he dried the last plate and slipped it into its proper place in the cupboard with as little noise as possible. He leaned back against the counter, his arms folded across his chest as he attempted to calm his racing mind. You're acting like Tweek, he scolded himself, taking several long, slow breaths. He had absolutely no idea what was wrong with him. He felt an odd sort of twisting in his stomach that made him want to vomit. The feeling made him want to hate Kenny, for he was sure that this crazy feeling was somehow the affable blonde's fault, but he just couldn't. With an angry grunt, he pushed himself off of the counter, and the thought of Kenny from his mind, and trudged in to the living room. He sat on the only empty spot available, his spot, between Ike and his father. The thirteen year old snorted in protest and shifted his position so that his adoptive brother was no longer sitting partially on his leg.
"Kyle!" the younger teen griped, shoving his older brother with all of his less-than-impressive might. The redhead simply chuckled and ruffled the smaller boy's black hair affectionately. "Stop it!" he whined, swatting Kyle's hand away from his tuft of hair.
"Stop it!" The elder Broflovski repeated, imitating his brother's protests, much to Ike's dismay. He then stuck his tongue out in a childish display of defiance before turning to see what his family was so enthusiastic about watching. Much to his disappointment, he found that it was some sort of political debate show. He let his head fall back against the couch with an over-emphasized, drawn out groan.
"Kyle!" Shelia snapped, muting the TV in preparation for a long-winded speech on the important roles that politics and debates play in a child's life.
Before the heavyset woman could so much as say a word, the increasingly agitated teen heaved himself off of the couch and headed up to his room. Kyle couldn't understand why he was suddenly so angry, he just was. He could hear Cartman's grating voice in his head; "Haha! Kyle's on his man period! Stupid Jeewww. Periods are for girls! Ahaha!" He ground his teeth against the thought. Sighing, he began to regret his attitude. He never showed defiance towards his mother (because, quite frankly, the woman was a frightening tank of a creature) but he just felt so frustrated that he couldn't help himself. When he got to his room, he slammed the door and flopped down on his bed like a hormonal girl, ignoring the angry voice of his mother floating up the stairs. He knew she was too interested in the debate to come upstairs and yell at him, so he didn't bother shouting an apology down to her. He buried his face in his pillow and exhaled noisily. The teenaged Jew had begun to resent the way he was feeling, and to resent the fact that he couldn't hate Kenny for making him feel that way. Partly because he was the one feeling it, but mostly because he could not comprehend what he was feeling. Broflovski children were geniuses, and Kyle was no exception. He was excellent in everything he did, acing every quiz and exam that was thrown at him. It took him mere minutes to fully understand any academic concept. Not being able to understand something, especially if it was happing to him, was almost painful.
"Jesus Christ," he spat, lifting his head off of the fluffy pillow to glare at his laptop that sat innocently upon his desk. Not because it had done anything, simply because he felt the need to glare at something, and the laptop was directly across the room form where he lay.
The blank screen stared calmly back at him, for he had left it open after last checking his e-mail. He wondered exactly what time that had been. Before Kenny came over… the teen thought before he could stop himself. He was trying his hardest not to think about the blonde with peacock blue eyes and crooked smirk… As far as he was concerned, the whole situation had never happened. It was now taboo.
With an exaggerated grunt of exertion, Kyle pushed himself off of the plush bed and dragged his feet all the way over to the computer desk. He pulled the wheelie chair back and flopped into it, then slid down so far he was almost on the floor. Pressing the power button, he began to wonder once again if Kenny was okay. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and set it beside the computer, willing Kenny to text him. To distract himself, the increasingly frustrated teen spun himself in circles, pushing off the hardwood floor with his bare toes. He let his mind wander as his room became a blur of spinning colours.
Kyle only ceased his spinning when the laptop flared to life, asking him to enter his password. He gripped the edge of the computer desk until the world stopped twirling around him in some sort of bizarre dance. The redhead drummed his fingers against the keyboard for a moment before typing 'superbestfriendkyle' into the space provided. It had been his password since third or fourth grade; he couldn't remember which. He knew it was juvenile, but he was a creature of routine and habit, and couldn't bring himself to change it.
Once the computer registered the password and logged him in, he clicked open his e-mail. Scrolling through the spam and Facebook notifications (noti-fuck-ations, Stan called them) to find an actual, worthwhile message. He was expecting to be disappointed until he almost scrolled passed a message from Bebe Stevens entitled "You know I love you, right?"
Suspicious, Kyle opened it. His face fell as he began to read.
Kenny stood protectively in front of Karen, his shoulders heaving as his breath came in short, ragged bursts. His left eye was swollen shut, his nose had been broken, and he was covered in more cuts and bruises than he had been when he fled to Kyle's.
"You stupid pig." Stuart slurred, shaking an empty bottle of cheap liquor at his two youngest children. He attempted to take a step towards them, but stumbled back against the wall, his elbow hitting hard enough to leave a hole. "Takin' 'vantage of yer little sister. You disgust me." He glared at Kenny with heavy-lidded eyes as he spouted out his usual accusation of Kenny having more than a close family relationship with his sister. The teen ground his teeth against a comment as his father continued his rant. His little sister gripped his hand and moved closer to him.
This just added fuel to his father's fire, and his voice began to rise. "You're useless boy!" he boomed, swinging the bottle again, "I told yer mom that I didn't want no more kids! 'Specially not one who WON'T FUCKING DIE!"
Suddenly, the empty bottle was flying across the cluttered room. It connected with Kenny's head just above his right eye and shattered. The bits of glass left jagged cuts that trickled blood down the blonde's face, burning his good eye. He fell to his knees as a massive wave of pain racked his body, causing Karen to let out a small, squeaky gasp. Struggling to stay conscious, the teen glared hatefully at his father.
The drunk stumbled closer to the two, and Kenny noticed that he no longer blocked the door. Turning his head slightly, the blonde whispered rushed instructions to the frightened young girl. "When dad is far enough from the door, you're going to run. Run real fast, Karen. Go out to the garage. Hide under the blankets with Kevin. Dad's too drunk to go looking for you." Stuart was now only a few feet from them, his swaying form far enough from the door to allow Karen to squeeze through. Kenny nudged his sister and barked, "run!"
And run she did. Karen darted around Mr. McCormick and through the open door. She bolted down the stairs and across the living room. After slipping silently through the door to the garage, she carefully made her way over to the pile of blankets that held her eldest brother. She attempted to focus on Kevin's rattling snores rather than listen to the shouts, thumps, and crashes that echoed from the house.
Karen knew that Kenny wouldn't be coming back for a few days this time.
Hey, Kyle. I have something to tell you. I couldn't bring myself to call you or text you because I just feel so bad. Please don't hate me, Kyle. Because I still love you and I just made a bad choice. A really, really bad choice. I don't want to tell you about it, but here it goes. I went to a party with Wendy, Red, and a few other girls. When we got there, we met up with Clyde, Stan, and a few other guys. Wendy and Stan hung out (duh) and Red sort of just slipped off… but Clyde and I kind of got talking and drinking and… well… things got pretty heated. We went upstairs and… omg, Kyle. I'm so sorry. I cheated on you. I understand if you're mad.
Love from, Bebe Stevens.
Kyle stared at his screen for a long while, his jaw hanging open in shock. He reread the e-mail several times to make sure he wasn't seeing things. But, no. There it was right there. I cheated on you. That single line seemed to jump off the screen. He felt like it was bold, underlined, and four times larger than the rest of the text that swam around it. He felt like he was paralyzed, trapped within his own body. Unable to move or look away. Capable only of reading that goddamn line over and over again.
Finally, he blinked and was freed from the message's spell. He slowly shut his computer, got up, and walked over to his bed. He felt as though he were in a dream; everything felt surreal. He had never been cheated on before. He carefully lowered himself onto his bed and closed his eyes, deciding he'd face the issue at school. He figured he'd already been stressed enough recently.
Another chapter done, yeah? So, KEEP REVIEWING. Or I'll keep putting angry CAPS notes at the bottom of each chapter. Thank you very much to the people who have reviewed, your encouragement and critiques are always super welcomed. Thank you muchly.
*IMPORTANT NOTE*
The next "chapter" is going to be the characters' timetables, because the next ACTUAL chapter and a few future chapters are primarily school based. The timetables are as much for you as they are for me, because I wil be checking them frequently to make sure I have people in the right places at the right times.