Paper Bag
The rough denim of Kenny's jeans blisters his hipbones as he rushes through the hallway. He shoves his shaking fists under his parka and his fingers fit right into the ridges that his exposed ribs create. He massages them gently as, for nearly a second, he regrets giving Karen the two and a half dollars he'd nicked from his parents' booze-bank the night prior. He kicks his lock-less locker open. There is no way in hell he will let his baby sister hear shit about not being able to afford lunch, the way Kenny did (and occasionally still does.)
Kenny's locker is near-empty. The contents include an old curtain rod, a toothless comb, his Bio textbook, and a paper bag. Kenny chews on his bottom lip, as he usually does when he remembers how many days' worth of meals he's missed. The paper bag is out of place in the dingy compartment. It is sitting neatly right in the center of the metal divider, being held closed by puffy sticker in the shape of a purple pig. Kenny peeks out from behind the locker door, expecting someone to jump up and accuse him of stealing it.
He picks the bag up with only his thumb and middle finger and carefully peels away the sticker, so as not to tear the paper. He unfolds the top to peer inside. A pair of sandwiches, sliced into triangles, sits at the bottom of the bag, wrapped neatly in kitchen napkins. Sweet-and-sharp-and-nuttily scented, Kenny decides that they are of the peanut butter-and-jelly variant. He quickly folds the bag closed and replaces the little piggy to seal it. He swings his backpack under his arm to grab it, open it, and put the paper bag inside, right on top of his two notebooks. He tugs at the jammed zipper, swings the bag behind him, and stalks off to class.
Kenny takes a seat next to Craig, immediately poking his blue-clad friend's cheek.
"What?"
"D'you put that there?" His accent is muffled by his hood.
"No," Craig replies immediately, having no idea what Kenny is on about.
"Oh." Kenny is intrigued. He rests his chin on the back of his palm, yawning softly. "I bet it was some girl." He flushes slightly, embarrassed. She's probably seen him at lunch, picking at Stan's leftovers. She probably pities him. "God damn it."
"Maybe it was Kyle," Craig mutters, still unaware of what Kenny is referring to. All he knows is that if he mentions Kyle, his friend will shut up.
As expected, Kenny falls off of his arm and tries to retreat deeper into his jacket, groping to find the pull strings. His ears become warm as he imagines the situation. "Nah. I mean, I bet not. No."
"You never know," Craig insists.
Kenny tightens his hood around his face, licking his teeth. "No chance, dude."
Kenny follows behind Stan as they enter the cafeteria. He spots Kyle and Cartman across the large hall. He tightens his hold on the paper bag as he follows Kyle's cries of "racist shit," and "lardass." He sits on Cartman's side of the table, setting the bag between his legs. He nestles his head between his arms as the argument dies down. A rumbling from his hollow stomach keeps him from taking a nap.
He realizes Kyle's eyes are on him. They scan him for a second, and Kenny can feel the heat rising in around his neck. Kenny smiles up at the redhead, willing the tint not to reach his face. "Dude, I know I'm hot, but come on—we're in public," he laughs shakily.
Kyle blushes furiously. "You're a dumbass, Kenny," he turns back to the lunch he's bought, ignoring Cartman's "fucking homo, Kinneh," comment. "Go eat your damn lunch."
Kenny blinks, sits up, reaches down, and grabs a sandwich from the bag. Observing Kyle quietly, he peels away the paper towel and nibbles at the golden-brown crust. The feeling of actual food (e.g. not stale chips or gum) sliding down his throat makes Kenny chuckle softly. Kyle is watching him again. He takes a bite, and some on the filling oozes out onto his finger. His tongue darts out to catch the blob before it can start running.
"Hey, Kyle?" Kenny asks. His gaze is on the sandwich, so as not to feel too embarrassed.
"What's up?"
"Pass this on to your mom, would you?" He places the sandwich on the table to stand, leans over, and presses his lips on Kyle's cheek. "She makes the best PB & J."
As Stan begins mouthing off about how Kyle is going to contract something, Cartman howls "FAG ALERT" loud enough for a few tables to hear. Kenny sits back down and smiles at Kyle, (whose ears have begun to match his hair,) relieved that he did not get smacked in return for the kiss.
(He is only thankful until he realizes that he's lost the bet and now owes Craig ten bucks, the smug asshat.)