South Park © Matt & Trey.
Kenny's POV
So, apparently Craig is a huge asshole. I didn't know. He seemed relatively nice during the times I've spoken with him – a little cold, but not cruel.
I spent the night with Bebe. Earlier, I texted Stan to ask how his night went, but he had a lot to say. He ended up calling me because he didn't feel like typing it all out on the little keypad on his phone. What he said was surprising. He told me Craig had sex with Annie and made damn sure Lola knew about it. I mean, everyone knows Lola is into Craig. She's been into him for a while. If he didn't feel the same way, he should have just said it instead of screwing with her head and best friend.
I'm on my way to his house now. I thought I'd stop by before heading to Kyle's. Uninvited, of course, but oh well.
Ruby lets me in. "Hey, Kenny," she says in a sultry voice. She's still in her nightgown, so she must've just woken up.
"Er, hey, Ruby…"
"Craig's asleep," she informs me in her normal tone. There's humour evident on her face. Like Karen, she enjoys getting a rise out of people. "I think he is anyway… He doesn't really sleep much."
"Insomnia, right?" I recall.
"Yup."
"So, is my sister here?" I ask the strawberry blonde girl.
"Yeah, she's also asleep. I was asleep as well. So, thanks ever so much for waking me." Her voice is dripping with sarcasm; I'd have to be an idiot not to notice it.
I roll my eyes, kicking off my boots and the two of us go upstairs. "You're hung over, I presume?"
She just snickers. A little grey cat prances down the steps and Ruby grabs it, cradling it like a baby. "Aw," she coos at it.
"Where are your parents?" I ask. "Don't they care?"
"Dad's at work," she says, petting the furry animal. "He doesn't really give a shit."
"What about your mom?"
"She's dead," she says somewhat melancholically.
"What?" I respond stupidly, caught off guard.
"She's dead," she repeats. "What else would I mean?"
"Right… I didn't know. Sorry."
She shrugs. "It's fine. I wasn't the one who saw it happen."
Before I can pry, we reach the top and Ruby retreats to her own room, still holding her cat. I enter Craig's and see that he's asleep. He's on the right side of his wide mattress, lying on his stomach with one arm dangling off the side and his face buried in a pillow.
I approach him and say his name. "Craig…?" No answer, just a quiet groan. I grab the blanket and peek beneath. Apparently Craig sleeps naked. Not bad, not bad.
"Enjoying yourself?" he murmurs groggily. I guess he's awake after all.
"I heard about your night," I tell him, letting go of the blanket.
"Did you?" he asks, not seeming all that interested in what I'm about to say.
"I did," I start. "You're on everyone's shit list now, you know."
"Good," he says moodily.
I flop onto the side of the bed he's not currently occupying and say, "Now… why would you go and do a thing like that to Lola? She's sweet on you."
"And now she's not," he says simply.
I click my tongue at him. "Tsk... that isn't how you deal with a situation like that, you asshole."
He only sighs, showing no sign of remorse. He pushes the blanket off of himself, sitting up and walking towards his closet. I watch his lithe body move as he sifts through clothing. He pulls on a pair of cotton pajama pants and a plain, navy long-sleeved shirt. "Why are you here?" he asks, turning around once he's decent.
I give him a dull stare. "Why do you think?"
He closes his eyes for a brief moment, crossing his arms.
"Tell me something good, Craig," I say.
He gives me a look of mild disdain. "I can't think of anything."
"Think harder," I urge. "You're just saying that because you've told me all the little things."
"I really can't think of anything," he says again.
I let out an exasperated sigh. "Then how about this – we make up a new rule. Instead of freely telling me things about yourself every day, how about you let me ask you a question."
His eyes narrow. "I don't fucking think so."
"Come on," I whine. "It'll be fun."
"No, it won't," he says surely.
"Just try it. Don't be a bitch."
He lies back down and we're both silent, side by side. "Fine," he murmurs moment later. "Ask away."
"Tell me about your mom."
He closes his eyes. "No."
"Why not?"
"I don't want to… besides, that wasn't even a fucking question."
"I think you need to talk about it, Craig," I tell him, getting a strong sense that it's something he keeps buried.
He scoffs. "I think you should mind your own business and stop sticking your nose in mine."
"You're self-destructive," I say. "When you finally snap, it'll become everyone's business, so you better get ready for it."
"You're an idiot, McCormick," he spits.
"Coming from you, it doesn't mean much, Tucker," I spit back.
"Just ask a fucking question."
"All right," I muse. "How did your mother die?"
"Suicide," he says flatly.
"Why?" I ask.
"That's two questions."
"So fuckin' what?" I snap, exasperated. "Christ. Friends should be able to talk to friends about shit like this."
"We're not friends," he says.
"We will be. That's the point of this."
"Don't be so sure," he challenges. "I don't make friends easily."
"Well, I do. Now, answer the question."
"She was depressed," he says tartly.
"How'd she do it?" I ask.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" Craig raises his voice and it's unsettling. He sits up and stares down at me with an expression I've never seen him wear before. "Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"This!" he shouts. "Asking me questions I don't want to answer… These things hurt to fucking think about. Is that it? Are you trying to hurt me?"
"No," I say. "I'm not trying to hurt you, but sometimes people need to do things they don't want to do. It's for the best."
"You don't know me," he whispers harshly, "and you sure as hell don't know what's best for me, so you can get that idea out of your fucking head right now."
I'll push it away for the time being, but I'm not getting rid of it. I sit up a moment later and finally take my parka of. I unzip it slowly and toss it onto his floor.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
"Staying," I say simply, lying back down grinning over at him.
"Why do you wear that fucking thing?" he murmurs, gesturing towards my jacket.
"Is that your question for the day?"
"Yeah, whatever."
"Okay," I start. "I used to be really malnourished. I was also pretty filthy. I didn't want people to know I wasn't okay. I couldn't afford to eat and stay clean, but it's all fine now. Tada. It's just a habit these days, I guess. Plus, it keeps me warm for the long winter."
"You're an idiot," Craig states flatly. "You hid your face, you hid your emotions."
"Maybe," I say, not bothering to point out that he hides, too. He'd only get angry.
He lies back down, falling against the pillow in a brash and almost frustrated manner.
"You saw your mother die," I murmur aloud, realizing that must be what happened.
"Shut the fuck up," he says in a hollow tone.
This time, I do.
I lie quietly with Craig for about an hour before sitting up. I put my parka back on, zipping it up and leaving the room. I know he's awake, but I don't bother telling him I'm leaving or where I'm going. It's obvious that he probably doesn't care. I slip my boots back on and continue to Kyle's house, humming as I walk.
The sun's bright but it's only doing half its job. It's damn cold out, even with my parka. When I arrive at Kyle's, Ike lets me in. "Kyle and Stan are both upstairs," he informs me.
"Cool, thanks," I say, kicking my boots back off and running up. When I open the door, I see the two of them lying there spooning. How fuckin' adorable. "Aw," I coo, tiptoeing closer and whipping out my cellphone to take a picture. Click. "Look at you guys... I just wanna eat you up."
"Mm," Stan mumbles. "Funny."
Kyle says, "Hi, Kenny," and turns around in Stan's hold. The two of them make awkward eye contact when their noses touch and Stan lets go. They sit up rather quickly.
I take a seat at the edge of the bed and say, "So, what are you two up to?"
"Nothing much now," Stan says. "We had a weird night, though."
"Yeah," I frown, nodding. "You told me about that a bit."
"Craig is a pig," Kyle declares.
"I went to see him today," I decide to tell them.
"Why?" Stan asks with a scoff. "I didn't think you guys were friends."
"We're not," I say, "but you know how I am. I'm too friendly for my own damn good."
"True enough," Stan snorts. "Did you ask him why he's such a damn prick?"
"No," I laugh, "but Ruby hinted at something and I pieced the rest together."
"What is it, then?" Kyle asks.
"Karen stayed over with Ruby last night. I kind of guessed they were hung over. When she answered the door, I wondered where her parents where. She said her dad was at work, but didn't mention her mom. I pried and Ruby told me she died. Sad, huh? I gave my condolences and she said it was fine because, in her words, she wasn't the one who saw it happen," I finish, quoting the last part.
"What?" Stan cuts in. "So, Craig saw his mom buy the farm?"
I nod. "I think so. I brought it up and he immediately grew rigid and angry. I mean, it's Craig, so he didn't show too much of it but I knew. He wouldn't talk. I tried to get him to, but he wasn't having any of that. He said it was a suicide because she was depressed, but he stayed quiet after that."
"That is sad," Kyle murmurs sympathetically.
"Yeah," I say, "and that's probably why he keeps quiet about it. He doesn't want us to pity him and shit."
"Still," Kyle reasons, "he shouldn't go around acting like a fucking asshole."
Stan nods his agreement. "He's screwed Clyde over like that, too. He was into Red so Craig fucked her. When Clyde called him out on it, Craig just said he did Craig a favour because Red is, in his words, a confrontational bitch."
I frown. "Christ… I had no idea he had it in him to be so vile."
"I know," Stan murmurs. "I thought he was just a bit of a dick, but he's pretty awful. He's just as heartless as he acts."
I don't know about that. I think he just wants to keep himself from getting hurt, so he hurts everyone else instead, but… I'll keep that to myself. For now, at least.
"Bitch… bitch, bitch, bitch…!" Stan cusses, aggressively pressing buttons on his controller. "Stupid asshole son-of-a-bitch!"
I snicker. "You suck, dude. Kyle's whipping your sorry ass."
Stan lets out a long whine and Kyle simply smiles. He looks somewhat fearful at the same time and I don't really know why. Maybe it's all of Stan's cursing. Video games always get him riled up. He always loses, so it doesn't really help his game-related anger. I don't know how many times I've watched him rage quit games after only five minutes.
We're all seated in the living room. I'm watching the two of them play PlayStation. Ike is sitting in the corner of the room doing shit on his laptop. He's got his glasses on, so he's probably doing reading for school. Smart little turd. I glance at him, asking, "What'yah doin', Ike?"
"Homework," he sighs, looking up at me and wrinkling his nose in distaste.
"Fun?" I ask with a little laugh.
"Not particularly," he admits. "This stuff is immensely tedious."
"Sounds like a drag," I tell him. "How's eighth grade?"
"Easy." He makes another disdainful expression. "Everyone in the class in dumb, I swear. It's pretty bad."
"Heh, genius," I taunt.
He just smiles in good humour before staring back down at his computer screen. I turn back around and watch Kyle and Stan play video games some more. If I was playing, I'd school the both of them. Video games are my speciality.
"Shitting shit," Stan says once he loses.
Kyle bristles at Stan's final insult. "Sorry," he lets out a soft laugh. He stands up and hands me the remote control. "I'll be right back," he adds, going upstairs.
Stan frowns and we exchange a knowing look.
"Yeah, he's going to wash his hands. He has, like, the worst OCD ever," Ike cuts in. "Mom insists he's fine and dandy, though. We all know that when it comes to Kyle's problems, her track record isn't the best. It's been like that since we were young. He's almost died more than once, but she never learns."
I roll my eyes, recalling the incident where he got kidney failure. "Sorry," I say, "but Sheila is kind of retarded if she thinks Kyle doesn't have serious issues."
"I know," he admits. "She likes to think me and Kyle are perfect. I could get fuckin' raped or stabbed or something and she'd insist it never happened. She just can't handle the idea of us suffering and that just makes things worse."
"Christ," I mumble. "No wonder he's got problems."
"What would happen if we just… kind of dragged him out of the bathroom?" Stan wonders.
"I wouldn't if I were you," Ike murmurs. "He needs to be able to stop doing it on his own accord. He can't be forced into it. Sometimes my mom makes him, but he fights her over it and screams and it's just not pleasant to see. Do you know why he performs those rituals?"
Me and Stan shake our heads in unison.
"Well," Ike starts, "he might be thinking something he doesn't want to be thinking about. They're intrusive thoughts, things he can't control. The thoughts will pervade and he will need to do his little ritual. He'll feel better. I know that, to us, it makes no sense… but to him it does."
"What does he think might happen?" I ask.
"I'm not sure. A guess, but maybe he thought Stan was going to get angry because he lost. He was being quite aggressive just now," Ike explains. Stan starts to open his mouth but Ike cuts him off and adds, "I'm not saying this is your fault. It's just something that Kyle thinks. He hates when people get angry. It makes him feel incredibly guilty. He takes everything on, even things that he has no control over."
"So, I should be a little… softer?" Stan ventures.
Ike shrugs. "I don't know," he says. "OCD varies among people and Kyle won't talk about his, or even acknowledge that he has it."
"But it's so fucking obvious," I murmur.
"Yeah, I know," Ike sighs.
The conversation dies down after that. I pick up a controller and start a new game. Me and Stan play around for a little while and I beat the tar out of him, much to his chagrin.
Eventually Kyle comes back downstairs. "You okay?" I ask him.
"I'm fine," he tells me. Naturally.
I simply nod. "Anything good happening tonight?"
Kyle shrugs and Stan says, "Not that I know of. We can head down to the club?"
So, the three of us end up going down to the club, grabbing Eric on our way. I call Bebe and tell her to meet us there. I tell her to bring Lola, too. We'll entertain her and soon enough she'll forget all about Craig and her mean best friend.
"Ladies," I greet upon arrival. I unzip my hood, give Bebe a kiss and say, "Pretty as ever, my queen."
"Oh, you," she simpers before chucking and we all walk inside.
Eric whips out his flask and Kyle raises an eyebrow. "What's in there?"
"Patron," Eric replies, taking a swig.
I grimace at the mention of tequila. I've had a few particularly rough nights and tequila is to blame. He offers Kyle a sip and he tentatively accepts, taking the flask and taking a slow drink. "Oh, fuck," he exclaims. "Ew."
Eric cackles at the reaction. "Pussy."
Kyle calls him stupid and the two of them banter back and forth for a while. The rest of us just try to drown them out.
"How're you doin', Lola?" I ask softly.
"I'm good," she says. "And you? Bebe tells me you're trying to befriend Craig…"
"I want to see the softer side of him," I admit.
"I don't think he has one," Lola says disdainfully.
"Yeah," I sympathize. "I don't know. If he does, he definitely doesn't let it show."
"He's just a stupid, scared boy," she adds.
"Yeah," I chuckle. I think that's exactly what Craig Tucker is. "He'll learn the hard way, be sure of that."
"But enough Craig talk," she insists, "Let's enjoy the night."
"That's the spirit," Bebe smiles, linking one arm to me and another to Lola before dragging us to the dance floor. She turns around and beckons Kyle, Eric and Stan to join us. Eric promptly wanders off, probably to find a girl to hump. Stan chuckles and joins us, as does Kyle though with much more hesitance. He hates dancing. After all, he has little rhythm.
"Smile, Kyle," Lola shouts over the music, grabbing his hands and forcing him to sway. "You're having fun."
Kyle forces a smile, humouring her probably just because he knows she's still a bit upset. Nonetheless, it's always good to see Kyle let loose a bit. He's way too uptight. It's just not healthy.
Bebe grins at the sight of them, as do Stan and I. Bebe grabs our hands and starts dancing and jumping around like her feet are on fire. None of us are great dancers, but it's good fun anyway. After a few songs, we all enter the lounge.
"I'm going to get a drink," Bebe announces. "Anyone want anything?"
"I'm good," I grin, flopping onto a three seater sofa. "I'll just share yours."
She chuckles and nods. "Stan, Kyle, Lola?"
"I'll take a coke," Stan says, sitting on my right side.
"Me, too," Lola adds, sitting on my left.
"I'm fine, thanks," Kyle smiles. He flops onto a loveseat across from us and I break out into a grin.
"There's room on my lap if you're interested," I purr.
He rolls his eyes. "You're insatiable."
"Heh," I snicker. I toss an arm around Stan's shoulder and peck him on the cheek before doing the same to Lola. "Ah, today is a good day."
"Why're you in such a damn good mood?" Kyle asks.
"I just am," I say simply. I'm not going to let Craig's angst put me in a bad mood.
"I always feel pretty weird when we do this kinda shit," Stan suddenly says.
"Why?" I wonder. "What kinda shit?"
"Clubbing," he explains. "Don't you get annoyed when Bebe holds my hand?"
"Nah," I shake my head. "We're all friends here. I know you're not trying to steal her away and she's not trying to steal you away either. It's all innocent fun."
"Okay," Stan smiles. "If you say so."
Bebe returns shortly after with our drinks. After handing them out she flops down next to Kyle and the five of us don't see Eric for the rest of the night. I guess that's fine. I kind of want Kyle to keep enjoying the night and not have Eric come back and start an argument.
It's now Sunday and my parents are off to church. I don't fucking know why they go. I think it's just to keep up appearances. Me and Karen go along with them. Karen pretends she's still the sweet little girl she used to be. She's not wearing any make up. She's fresh faced, with her hair up in a tidy bun. She's also wearing a modest dress. Me and Kevin are wearing casual suits. Mine has a hole in the pocket, but I'm not really looking to buy a new one anytime soon. I'll wear this one until it no longer fits. No parka today. I'm completely visible and it still feels a little strange to show this much of myself because it's something I rarely do. But maybe it's something I should get used to.
I see Stan a few pews down with his parents, and Eric with Liane. After mass, people line up to confess their sins. My parents are gone by now, no big surprise. I stand with Stan and Eric. Karen, Kevin and Shelly are behind us quietly chatting away. I still find it weird that Kevin and Shelly are friends.
"I bet you have a lot to confess, eh, Eric?" I snort.
He rolls his eyes, dismissing me. "I don't even want to be here."
"Well, there's something to confess," Stan snickers.
Soon enough, it's my turn. I enter the confession box and kneel down, doing the sign of the cross. It's Father Maxi on the other side and he says, "In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen."
I let out a soft sigh. "Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It's been about… Well, it's been a long time since my last confession. Probably a few years."
"Why so long?"
"I have no excuse," I admit. "I just haven't been here."
"What sins have you committed since then?"
I decide to confess only the sins I am actually sorry for. I won't apologize for having sex or drinking, that's for damn sure. "I try to be a good person but sometimes it's hard. I've been fighting a lot. I find it so impossible to control myself sometimes. It's easier to just let myself go and let the anger swallow me up. My parents don't really care, but I feel like I should be a better sibling to my sister and even my brother, Kevin. He's kind of lost his way." I pause for a moment and then finish, "That's all, Father."
"Are you sorry for your sins?" he asks. I tell him I am and he invites me to say a prayer as proof.
"My God, I am sorry for my sins because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell, but most of all because they offend thee, my God, who art all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of thy grace, to sin no more. Amen."
"Five Hail Mary's," Father Maxi says. "May the passion of our Lord and saviour Jesus Christ heal your sins and help you grow in holiness. Go in Peace."
"Thank you, Father," I murmur. I do the sign of the cross once more, and then leave the confession box. I walk past Stan and everyone else before approaching the alter. Kneeling, I clasp my palms together and whisper, "Hail Mary, full of grace…"
Five Hail Mary's later; I don't really feel all that different. I guess this is why I don't come to church. When I rise, Stan is leaving the confession box. Eric enters after him and Stan kneels a few feet away from me.
"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…" I hear him murmuring to himself.
I wonder what Stan's sins were. I think I'll ask him. Maybe I'm not supposed to ask him, but eh… I'm curious. I take a seat on a pew and wait for him to be finished. When he stands up, he turns around and offers me a smile.
"What did you confess?" I ask him.
"Being impatient with Kyle," he says. "I was kind of a di–" he stops, cutting himself off. He doesn't want to swear in the house of God. "I was kind of lame," he corrects.
I chuckle. "Yeah, but Eric was the lamest."
"We should've stopped him from messing around with Kyle's book shelf," he says.
"Yeah, lesson learned."
"He seemed fine last night," Stan adds. "I think he had a good time."
I nod and a moment later, Eric leaves the confession box. "He sure took a while," I say. "He'll be at the altar for twice as long, I'm sure."
"Probably," Stan laughs.
Eric overhears us and flips us the bird. "Dude," I say, "You can't do that in church."
He doesn't look like he cares all that much. He kneels at the altar for a few short moments and stands up. "Fuck it, I ain't saying twenty goddamn prayers."
Stan pinches the bridge of his nose and I just shake my head at him. "You're somethin' else, dude," I laugh.
"Ah, whatever," he says dismissively, shoving his hands in his pockets. The three of us walk outside into the crisp, cold air. They don't bother waiting for their parents.
"That was boring as hell," Eric mutters.
"Yeah, Maxi really likes trying to brainwash us with fear," I add. "At least we're old and smart enough to realize it now, unlike when we were kiddies."
"Ugh," Stan groans. "Bad memories."
"Why'd you come to mass today, Kinny?" Eric asks. "You never come."
"I don't know," I shrug. "I just thought I'd go." I've been feeling guilty about the fighting. Maybe that's why I went. "Craig wasn't here… Does he ever come?"
Stan shakes his head and Eric says, "No, but I bet he'd have a fuck of a lot to confess. Maybe even more than me."
"Heh, yeah," I agree. "Dude, I bet you only confessed like ten percent of your sins."
"If I confessed them all, I think Maxi might try to strangle me again," Eric says with facetious solemnity.
"We wouldn't want that," Stan mutters sarcastically.
"Ay!" Eric shouts. "You guys wouldn't be able to live without me."
"Sure, dude, keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel special," Stan snorts.
I pat Eric on the back and smile, but I don't join in the patronizing this time. "Let's go to Stark's Pond," I suggest out of the blue.
"Should we call Kyle to meet us there?" Stan asks.
"Sure," I grin.
He whips out his phone and sends a text to his super best friend. It should be nice. I haven't been there in years. I kind of miss it. "When was the last time you guys were at Stark's Pond?" I wonder.
"When I was in grade eight," Eric pipes in. "I chased a seventh grader there and pushed him in."
"Asshole," I laugh. "What 'bout you, Stan?"
He smiles, looking like he's in thought. "It was a couple years ago," he says. "I was with Kyle."
"Naturally," Eric snorts. "Fuckin' homos."
Stan dismisses him and continues, "We were sixteen. I learned how to drive and I decided to take Kyle for a spin. We parked by the pond and we just kind of sat there. It was in the summer. It was nice."
"Yeah, that sounds nice," I smile.
"Gay," Eric adds. "Why don'tcha just fuck Kyle and get it over with."
"Why don't you?" Stan retorts. "You're the one who used to obsess over him."
"It's called humiliation, Stan," Eric states condescendingly. "I didn't want to fuck him, I wanted to humiliate him…"
"Sexually," I add and Eric rolls his eyes. "Hey, if Kyle was down for it I'd probably fuck him," I admit. "He's cute."
Stan just murmurs a soft and awkward, "Yeah".
"Hell, I'd probably fuck him, too," Eric finally relents. "Mind you, I'd probably smack him around a bit beforehand so he got good and scared. Bet he'd be loud."
How unsettling. "Sadist," Stan says distastefully. He means it when he says it. Eric's computer history is just full of violent porn. He really is a sexual sadist. "Like hell he'd let you touch him."
"Don't worry, I'm not going to steal your boyfriend," Eric says. "So, calm your boner."
I laugh some more. "Okay, we better stop talking about this. Kyle would kill us and spit on our graves."
"He's literally the only virgin I'm friends with," Eric says, sounding like he's only just realizing it now. "Fuckin' Butters isn't even a virgin."
"What about Tweek?" Stan asks.
"He's been around and back," I cut in.
"For real?" Stan raises a brow, unconvinced.
I nod. "You know how he was in a hospital the summer after grade nine?" I ask, not bothering to wait for a reply. "Well, apparently the nurses were oblivious so all the patients screwed around."
"Christ," Eric says. "What a fuckin' weirdo. Why the fuckin' hell would someone want to sleep with someone in a nut house?"
I roll my eyes. "Dude… not everyone in there is insane. Some people just have things to work through. Some people are sick. Some people are tired and need a place to rest."
Eric just shrugs. "Still fuckin' weird."
"I had sex with him twice," I admit.
"What?" Stan asks in a deadpan, but Eric doesn't look too shocked.
I just nod, smiling slightly. "He fucks like he's on meth."
"Must be the so called ADD," Eric mutters. "He never stops moving… like the fuckin' energizer bunny."
"Pretty much," I chuckle. "Tweek the tweeker." Poor bastard. He'll probably be dead before he's thirty, which is a shame. He's a nice kid.
"Christ," Eric sighs. "Everyone here just fucks one another."
"You're no different," I point out. "Besides, what the fuck else is there to do in a small town like this?"
"True enough," he relents.
The three of us arrive at Stark's Pond and take in the familiar sight – a place where we spent so much of our childhood. I sit on a boulder nearby and sigh, "It's still the exact same."
"Once Kyle shows up, this will be the first time we're all here together since we were ten," Stan says.
"Hm," I muse, grinning.
It's just past noon now and the sun is high up, but once again, only doing half its job because it's fucking freezing out here. Kyle shows up a few minutes later. He waves and calls as he approaches where Stan, Eric and I are.
"You guys look fancy," he notes.
"We just came from church," I tell him with a shrug.
"I haven't been here in a while," he says, surveying the area. Awe spreads across his face as he takes in his surroundings.
"Yeah, I thought it might be nice for us to all sit around here again," I tell him. "Grade twelve just started, but the end isn't far away. We'll be graduating soon. We'll all be adults. I thought it'd be nice to be here as kids one more time."
Kyle simply smiles, staring out at the frozen lake. Then he starts chuckling, "Do you remember the time Cartman rowed us all out here and tried to kill us when we wanted to confess for TPing the art teacher's house?"
"And he betrayed us in the end," I say solemnly before cracking a smile.
"Fuck you guys," Eric cuts in. "Serves you all right."
Stan just shakes his head and everything feels so beautifully normal. For now, I'll pretend that all is right in the world.
