Prompt: 100 words – emotionally themed drabble prompts
Prompt word: Protect
Takes place during "Dead Kids".
Reminder that I headcanon that South Park Elementary goes all the way up to eighth grade, which is the only explanation for Shelly still being a student there in "Tegridy Farms". Luckily, preK-8 elementary schools aren't at all uncommon in small rural towns like South Park.
"Shelly Marsh, report to the counselor's office immediately, mmkay?"
Shelly swore loudly, slamming her locker so hard that it echoed throughout the hallway. What the hell did Mr. Mackey want now? And right before recess at that? It had been over two weeks since she had pummeled anybody.
I bet that stupid Mr. Kowalski ratted me out, she thought to herself as she exited the seventh and eighth grade wing and approached the counselor's office. The playground monitor had caught her vaping behind the school during recess the other day and had threatened to blow the whistle unless he could get something out of it. Shelly still hadn't come up with a decent bribe yet.
"Can you just give me my punishment so I can get to recess?" Shelly snapped, opening the office door. She was starting to get the shakes after being deprived of nicotine all day.
"Sit down, Shelly. Mmkay?" Mr. Mackey gestured to the chair in front of his desk.
Shelly huffed, but obliged. "Whatever they say I did, I didn't do it!"
"Shelly, there was another school shooting today in the fourth grade wing of the school."
Shelly rolled her eyes. "So? There's a shooting every other day. Can I go now?"
"I'm afraid that your brother was shot, mmkay?"
Shelly's stomach lurched. She swore that her heart stopped beating for a second.
"He - he's okay, right?" She tried as hard as she could not to betray her emotions.
"We don't know anything just yet, mmkay? I'm going to drive you to the emergency room so you can meet your parents there. We're still trying to get in touch with them."
Shelly could only nod in response. The cantaloupe-sized lump that had suddenly taken up residence in her throat prevented her from speaking.
Shelly stared grimly out of the car window, trying as hard as she could to ignore the stinging sensation in her eyes. She tuned out Mr. Mackey's idle chatter. She still had the shakes, though they were no longer nicotine related.
She leapt out of the car before the counselor could even slow to a complete stop and burst through the double doors of the emergency room.
"I need to see Stan Marsh," Shelly barked at the receptionist.
"Nobody under eighteen is allowed back there unless accompanied by a parent or guardian," the woman droned.
Shelly's scowl could have killed a snake.
"But I think that I can make an exception just this once," the receptionist stammered, crumbling under the girl's death glare. She quickly filled out a visitor's badge. "Cubicle five." Shelly snatched the badge and sprinted as fast as she could down the hall.
She nearly collapsed in relief when she saw her brother sitting up in bed, awake and alert. His arm was in a sling.
"Leave it to you to get shot in the same arm twice, turd!" Shelly greeted. She hoped that Stan didn't pick up on the tremble in her voice.
"S-shelly? What are you doing here?"
"Mr. Mackey forced me to come here," Shelly lied. "Thanks a lot, turd! I'm missing out on precious vaping time because of you! When do you get out of here?"
"As soon as Mom and Dad get here," Stan replied. "But they-"
"Jesus Christ, are they out getting coffee?" Shelly pulled her phone out, preparing to send an indignant text to her mother. Now that she knew that the turd wasn't at death's door, she wanted get home as soon as she could. Maybe she could slip away to Stark's Pond before dinner and get her nicotine fix.
"No, they haven't shown up yet."
Shelly nearly dropped her phone. "You're kidding."
"No."
Shelly pretended that she didn't see the hurt that flashed through her brother's eyes as he answered her.
Three hours later, Randy and Sharon were still nowhere to be seen. Shelly had furiously blown up their phones so many times that her own phone was starting to lose power.
An exhausted Stan napped as Shelly engaged in a hushed argument with the doctor.
"Can't I just call my uncle to come and pick us up?" Shelly pleaded. Her death glare hadn't worked on the doctor, who remained adamant that his hands were tied under the law. She hated that she had to resort to begging. But somebody needed to advocate for the turd and since her parents weren't around, the task fell on her shoulders.
"I'm afraid not. I can only release Stanley to your parents."
Shelly sighed and returned to her chair. She was too tired to argue anymore.
Shelly growled as she heard Terrence and Phillip's incessant laugh blare from Stan's phone for the millionth time since she had arrived. Leave it to the turd to have the most annoying notification sound on the planet, she thought to herself. She grabbed her brother's phone and silenced it.
Curiosity got the better of Shelly and she scrolled through Stan's notifications. His friends had been blowing his phone up for hours. She stared at the names. Kyle, Wendy, Kenny, Butters, Jimmy, Clyde. Even the fat turd had messaged him.
It must be nice for the turd to have so many people who care about him, Shelly thought bitterly. Not like I can relate.
She quickly shook that off. Now was not the time.
Shelly watched her brother as he continued to sleep. He looked so pitiful laying there, with his stupid poofball hat and his sling.
A weird sensation engulfed Shelly. Something about seeing Stan in that bed brought out her protective nature. This wasn't exactly new. She felt that way whenever anybody who wasn't her tried to hurt or threaten the turd. However, something was different this time. She was feeling almost… maternal.
Shelly growled again. She wasn't supposed to have these feelings! That was her mom's job! Where the hell was she?