Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

Chapter 1

Stan awoke, that Friday morning, to the buzzing of Kenny's alarm clock, and the simultaneous pounding of his own head. The room spun, as he propped himself up, which caused his stomach to flip. He leapt off the couch, and sped toward the bathroom, tripping over Kenny's sleeping body, and stubbing his toe on Kenny's outdated Game Station. "Fuck!" He swore loudly, pausing to nurse his aching toe, and noting that Kenny had not woken up, despite that he'd been tripped over, and the alarm was still blaring in his ear. Stan reached out to shut it off, but his stomach did another flip, and there was no time to waste. He barely made it to the bathroom in time to relieve the contents of his stomach into the grimy toilet. He threw up mostly liquid, since he'd drank heavily the night before, and had eaten very little. "Fuck," Stan repeated more quietly to himself, lightly panting, and wiping his mouth with the back of his trembling hand. His balance wavered slightly, and his vision briefly doubled, which meant that he was probably still a little drunk, but that wasn't exactly a negative, in Stan's opinion. He took a quick piss, before flushing the toilet, then washed his hands, while staring at himself in the dirty mirror above the sink. His hair was greasy from not being washed in days, since the McCormick's water had been temporarily shut off, and was only recently turned back on, stubble had developed on his chin, the stained clothes he'd worn all week smelled of body odor, and his teeth looked kind of mossy. He suddenly wished he'd packed a toothbrush in his backpack, or bought a new one to keep at Kenny's, since Stan practically lived here, these days. He sighed at his reflection, then shrugged it off, before exiting the bathroom. "Oh, sorry, Karen," he apologized, having almost just run into Kenny's younger sister in the hallway. She was ready for school, wearing an army jacket over a baggy sweater, ripped jeans, and the same weathered Converse knockoffs that Kenny wore. She was surprisingly even more quiet than Kenny, though due to social anxiety, which affected her ability to respond verbally to Stan. She simply bowed her head, and bypassed him, on her way toward the kitchen, with her face hidden behind curtains of sandy brown hair, the way an ostrich buries its head in the sand. "Man, she's worse than Tweek," Stan muttered under his breath, as he shuffled back into the messy living room. The alarm had stopped, but Kenny was still soundly asleep. "Hey, Ken," Stan kicked at Kenny's side, "wake up, dude. Get ready, or we'll be late for the bus."

"M'sleepy," Kenny moaned groggily, rolling over onto his other side, and pulling the blanket over his head.

"Well, I'm hungover," Stan yanked it back down "and I can handle school, today, so you can, too."

Principle Victoria had warned them both about their grades and attendance, but Kenny didn't care about the consequences of skipping school, since he was already on the verge of dropping out, even though it was halfway through junior year. He'd always hated school, and only ever showed up two or three days a week. Stan, however, wanted to graduate high school, even if he wouldn't get that football scholarship he'd hoped for. He'd already been kicked off the team for substance abuse, and probably had no use for college, but he needed to keep his grades up, at least to earn his diploma. Unlike Kenny, he wouldn't be content with just a GED.

"You're the one who cares, dude," Kenny pointed out.

"Yeah, but..." If Stan was being honest, he just didn't want to be at the bus stop with Karen and Ike as the only distractions to Kyle and Cartman.

Kenny must've realized this, Stan thought in embarrassment, as the former suddenly changed his mind. "I guess I should go, since it's Friday." He heaved himself up from the mattress on the floor, pulled yesterday's jeans over the boxers he'd slept in, his orange hoodie over a stained t-shirt, and the hood over his greasy, shoulder-length, dirty blonde hair. He looked slightly like Kurt Cobain, if the lead singer of Nirvana had been short and scrawny, with a freckled, more boyish face. If you didn't know Kenny, you'd think he made himself look ratty on purpose, like grunge was the style he was trying for. He and Karen pulled off the hobo look better than Stan, anyway. "Let's blow this Popsicle stand." Kenny grabbed a package of Pop-Tarts from the kitchen, then led the way out the front door, with Karen tagging along behind he and Stan. By the time they reached the bus stop, Cartman and the Broflovskis were already there, and the former was playfully bantering with Kyle. If either noticed the sudden presence of Stan and the McCormicks, it was easily dismissed. Kyle's adopted brother, Ike, at least nodded at them in acknowledgement.

At twelve-years-old, Ike Broflovski was already a freshman in high school, as he was a literal genius. Having just started going through puberty, the poor kid's voice frequently cracked, his face was acne-ridden, and he always felt at risk of popping a boner in class, since he was constantly surrounded by older chicks, which he'd always had a fetish for. It was no surprise, that even halfway through the schoolyear, he still hadn't made many friends, aside from Stan and Kenny; if they could even be called that.

Aside from Ike's presence, Stan would've felt basically invisible, had Kenny not been there to split a cigarette with him. Suddenly, he wondered how Kenny must've felt, when Stan had been more interactive with Kyle and Cartman. Kenny was more talkative in one-on-one situations, Stan had recently learned, but, in group settings, only ever supplied the occasional 'that's what she said!." Stan supposed that wasn't anyone's fault, but Kenny's, though, since the latter purposefully chose to play the silent tag-along. He'd always been a wallflower, but Stan wasn't trying to blend in with the wallpaper. Kyle and Cartman were deliberately avoiding him. He felt awkward, as they waited for the bus, and almost breathed a sigh of relief, when it finally pulled up, until he saw Wendy sitting in the third seat from the back. Her nose was buried in a book, and her purple beret sat askew atop her head of black hair. Stan's stomach lurched, and he forced himself to look away from the one who'd always given him butterflies in his stomach, but now just made him feel sick to it. He averted his eyes to the backseat, and locked eyes with Craig, who nonchalantly flipped him off. Stan rolled his eyes, returning the gesture, which was caught by Wendy, who just now happened to be paying attention. She flipped him off, before turning haughtily away from the window. Stan facepalmed, as he followed the other guys onto the bus. Kyle and Cartman, as always, were sitting together, and Karen sat with Tammy Nelson, whose mother had been in rehab with Karen and Kenny's parents, so Ike followed Stan and Kenny toward the very back of the bus, where Craig and Tweek were seated.

"Sorry, Wendy, I was flipping off Craig; not you," Stan explained, bypassing Wendy, without giving her enough time to respond or even look up from her book. "Hey, douche," he snapped at Craig, taking a seat across from he and Tweek, beside Kenny, "Wendy just thought I flipped her off."

"Not my fault." Craig's apathy was apparent in his nasally voice.

"You could at least feel bad," Stan muttered to himself, slumping down into the seat, and propping his legs up on the back of the seat in front of him, where Red was audibly making out with Kevin Stoley.

"H-Hey, Stan," Tweek anxiously clutched at his ironically-worn D.A.R.E. t-shirt, as though wringing water out of it, "can you swing by Tweek Bros., later?" He reached across Craig, and passed Stan twenty-five fucks. "We just want our usual." Craig dished out another twenty-five bucks.

"Sure, dude." To the dismay of Stan, who surprisingly had an aversion to weed, his father owned a marijuana farm on the outskirts of South Park, which was dispensed legally from the shop, and illegally under the table to Stan's underage friends. "What time is your break?"

"Five-thirty."

"Hey, I'll meet you guys there." Ike peeked out from the seat in front of Craig and Tweek's. "I don't have money on me, but I can pay you, then."

"'Kay," Stan nervously agreed, as he pocketed Tweek's cash, "but don't tell Kyle that I sell to you, dude."

"Yeah, right," Ike snorted, "we'd both be in deep shit."

"How much do you want?"

"Just a dub," he answered, as his gaze shifted from Stan, toward Kenny, "and three tabs of acid."

"Oh, my fucking God," Craig narrowed his eyes at the geeky couple sitting diagonally from him. "Get a room, Stoley. You don't see Tweek and I practically fucking back here." Kevin pulled a page right out of Craig's own book, and flipped Craig off, without parting his lips from Red's. Craig returned the gesture, even though Kevin was too preoccupied to see it. "Weebs," Craig muttered, pulling the hood of his navy blue hoodie halfway over his slightly blemished face. He produced an iPod from the pocket of his track pants, shoved the earbuds into his ears, and cranked up the volume.

Aside from the sloppy kissing sounds, and distant whispers from the front of the bus, the rest of the ride was quiet. Stan's headache was persistent, but his nausea had at least subsided, by the time they'd reached the school.

After stopping at their respective lockers, he and Kenny aimlessly roamed the hallways, waiting for the first bell to warn them to hurry to their separate homerooms. Unfortunately, the walls happened to be plastered in flyers for the upcoming Valentine's Day dance, which only served as a reminder of Stan's newfound singleness. Additionally, it was the night of the football game, and he felt mocked by the sight of varsity jackets and cheerleading outfits.

"You were right," he admitted, feeling worse in the loud hallway with florescent lights, "we should've stayed home."

"Home?" Kenny raised an eyebrow at Stan, and a smirk of amusement spread across his face.

Stan felt heat rush to his now surely red cheeks. "Well, I practically live there, ya know?"

Kenny chuckled. "It's okay, dude." His smirk grew slightly sardonic. "That place is probably more of a home to you, than me, anyway."

Stan frowned sympathetically at Kenny, before turning away, and casting his eyes around the crowded hall. He looked over just in time to catch a glimpse of Henrietta at her locker. "Hey, Henri!" He called out, hoping she'd recognize his voice, as he was now probably too far away for her to see him.

"Henry?" Kenny wondered.

"Henrietta."

"Ahhh," Kenny said in a suspicious tone of acknowledgement. "Nice, dude." He winked, and nudged Stan with his elbow.

"Does your mind always have to go there?" Stan's face burned even hotter than before. "Just 'cause she's a girl, doesn't mean I'm trying to hook up with her. She's my friend."

Kenny shrugged. "More than you could ever say for Wendy. You guys weren't friends, even when you were going out." The homeroom bell finally rang, and Kenny turned down an adjacent hall. "See you at lunch!"

Stan continued forward, contemplating what Kenny had just said. It was true, that Stan had never really seen Wendy as a friend, even when they were out on dates, or cuddled up together on the couch. She'd given him butterflies, and still inspired him on many levels, but there had never been a companionship between them. If she wasn't his girlfriend, she was just his ex; never his friend.

"Watch where you're going, jockstrap," Cartman snapped, when Stan turned a corner, and walked straight into him.

"Sorry, dude."

"Hey, did you do your math homework?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Can I copy it? I'll give it back to you at the beginning of class." Stan was mostly grateful that Kyle was an honors student, and they shared few classes, but it also meant that Cartman had to copy homework from someone other than Kyle, which happened to be Stan, if not Butters or Kenny. It was annoying, but whatever. Stan removed a paper from inside one of his folders, and wordlessly handed it over. "Sweet." Cartman sauntered away, and left Stan feeling slightly uplifted. When Kyle wasn't around to distract Cartman, the latter actually noticed Stan, and could be friendly toward him. Friendly for Cartman, anyway.

As always, Stan and Kenny spent their lunch period under the bleachers, bumming cigarettes off the foreign exchange student, Christophe, who was currently taking advantage of Kenny's listening skills; ranting and raving in his thickly French accent. Meanwhile, Stan caught up with the goth kids. Well, not so much with the guys, as Henrietta, who was leaned against the underside of the bleachers, smoking with her fancy cigarette holder.

"She said I look like a fat Amy Lee."

"Dude," Stan felt rage bubbling up inside of him, at the thought someone bullying Henrietta, "what a bitch!"

She snorted in amusement at how seriously he'd reacted. "If anything, it was a compliment. I was like, 'Thanks, Amy Lee's totally hot.'" Stan chuckled. "Hey, wanna come over after school?" Henrietta asked. "The guys will be there," she quickly added.

Stan glanced at the three black-clad boys, who stared apathetically back at him. They'd always been fairly tolerant of Stan, despite having deemed him a conformist, but he'd never grown as close with them, as he had with Henrietta. "Sure, why not?" He had plenty of time to kill, before meeting Tweek and Craig at Kenny's. "I'm just gonna stop by my house, first, so I can shower, and change my clothes."

"Yeah, no offense, but you look like shit," Henrietta sardonically informed.

"I feel like shit." Stan sighed, running a free hand through his greasy, black hair.

"Hey, Marsh!" A high-pitched interrupted. "McCormick!" Stan and Kenny turned around to see their bandmate, Damien, slowly approaching them. As always, he was dressed entirely black, like the goth kids, who he actually preferred not to associate with. The goth kids, as everyone knew, were way too concerned about appearances and labels. "You guys wanna meet at Token's house, tomorrow, around noon?."

For years, Stan played in a hardcore band, previously known as Crimson Dawn, but eventually renamed Bloody Hellspawns. Originally, Kenny and Butters played guitar, with Jimmy Valmer on drums, but Jimmy and Butters were eventually replaced, so Kenny now played drums, while Damien played guitar, and Token played bass. As always, Stan wrote their angry lyrics, which he'd scream into the microphone. Technically, he could play guitar, and owned an acoustic, but he played that on his own time. Admittedly, hardcore wasn't Stan's favorite genre, but he did find it a productive way to relieve stress. When he actually listened to music, he typically went with classic rock.

"Sure," Stan and Kenny said in unison.

"You guys better not be late," Damien warned. "This is your last chance. Token and I, are actually serious about this shit, so don't fuck up our practice, or you're both out of the band."

"Dude, we got it," Kenny said. "Don't worry, we'll be there."

The rest of Stan's day passed slowly, but, by the time the end had rolled around, the Tylenol he'd received from the nurse had at least finally kicked in, taking the edge off his headache. After school had officially let out, he endured the painfully long bus ride to Tegridy Farms, where his parents luckily still hadn't returned from work, and his older sister, Shelly, had even more luckily not returned since the day she'd left for college in Denver. With everyone else away, Stan was free to raid the house. After dipping into his father's stash, and sneaking Tweek's fifty into the drawer of his parents' nightstand, Stan grabbed a bottle of liquor from the cabinet—figuring his father would assume he'd just drank it himself—then shoved it into his backpack, along with a pack of Camels from the half-empty carton on the table, and an unopened bag of Cheesy Poofs for Kenny. He made himself a turkey sandwich, complete with lettuce and tomato and mayonnaise, having grown sick of Kenny's diet of Pop-Tarts and Easy Mac, and hoping to avoid freeload off Kenny's impoverished family, as much as he could possibly help it. After washing the sandwich down with a can of PBR from the fridge, he took a quick shower, brushed his hair and teeth, and changed into new clothes; making a point to wear a black hoodie for the sake of the goths. Black showed less stains, anyway.

"Mom, you remember Raven?" Henrietta reintroduced her mother to Stan, referring to the latter by the nickname he'd used during his goth phase.

"Oh, hello, Stanley," Mrs. Biggle greeted warmly, yet somewhat distraughtly. "When Henrietta mentioned her friend, Raven, I thought she was talking about a girl."

"Hey, Mrs. B." Stan awkwardly shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "How've you been?"

"Well, I've been so busy, lately, but I—"

"Enough pleasantries," Henrietta rudely interrupted her mother, as she led the way toward the staircase, which her younger brother, Bradley, had just descended. "Out of my way, Squirt."

"You should be nicer to your mother, you know?" Stan advised, as he followed Henrietta upstairs, with the goth boys in toe.

"I know." She sighed. "She's just so peppy."

"I getcha."

"Sorry, I referred to you as Raven, by the way. It's just, my mother's always on my back about only hanging out with guys, so I really wanted fuck with her."

"Well, you seemed to have pulled it off." Stan laughed. "She looked like she wanted to cry, when she saw that it was just me."