The four friends, Stan, Kenny, Kyle and Cartman, were just standing there, not talking to each other, watching the other students who passed or their phones with complete indifference. It was one of those lazy mornings when one wasn't in a rush to go to class. At least, until Butters came to their encounter running as if he was being chased by the Devil himself.
"Fellas! Fellas! Holy cow!"
"What's the matter, Butters?" Stan asked him, sounding involuntarily as if he was annoyed by his excitement.
"I-It's Timmy! He...He…!"
"Did his big head explode?" Cartman's lips curved a little at his own joke.
"No! He's walking!"
That was something none of the four expected and which woke them up definitely.
"What did you say?" Kyle asked, mouth hanging.
"For real! He is...Look!"
The aforementioned was precisely coming at that moment. Hearing the clic clac of the crutches, the first thought in their minds was Jimmy, but no, the owner of the crutches approached, kids stepping aside to let him through, and they could see a big head with strawberry blond hair. No doubt it was Timmy. Even if he was walking at a tortoise pace, he was all smiles.
"Hey, Kenny, what's up? Stan? Kyle? Eric?"
"Oh, wow." Cartman muttered in astonishment.
"Timmy!" Kyle approached him and looked at him from head to toes. "Dude, you're…"
Timmy grinned. "I'm still slow as hell and I need to sit every once in a while but...Jimmy! Hey!"
Craig's gang was coming, chatting about Mr. Garrison setting an assignment with too little anticipation. All of them stopped when Jimmy did. They could not believe their eyes, but soon their attention turned on their friend, the expression on his face. In fact, everybody present was looking at Jimmy. No one could tell for sure what his face meant.
Timmy, happy to see his friend, walked towards him, slow and unstable, but Jimmy still didn't move from the spot.
"...Well? What do you think?"
Jimmy didn't reply immediately. After some seconds, a smile formed on his face.
"T-Tim-Tim! It's amazing! You...Oh, man, I knew you would do it one day!"
That smile made Timmy's smile brighter if that was even possible.
"Oh, but you have to tell me how you do it! All of my body hurts and I feel like these sticks I have for limbs can't hold me."
"G-Give it time, you'll see how you build mu-mu-muscle just by using the c-crutches."
"I could use that work out you do, though. Uh, it's going to take me long to go to class, so we'd better get going to Special Ed."
"R-Right! See you later, f-fellas." Jimmy said to his gang.
"Do you need help, buddy?" Token asked Timmy, seeing him walk unstably.
"Oh, no thanks! It's fine! Bye!"
The abled kids stayed right where they were while Jimmy and Timmy left. Their crutches made a funny noise which turned heads and ended the general sleepiness common of the first hours of the morning.
Once they were far enough not to hear them talk, they made a circle.
"Okay, am I the only one who's kind of freaked out now by all this?" Clyde said. "I mean, I'm happy for Timmy, sure I am, but…"
"Yeah, I know what you mean. This isn't normal." Tweek nodded, nervously touching his hands.
"I have a theory." Cartman claimed. "Timmy died during the shooting, okay? Okay, he died, and some sort of demon possessed his body and now what we have is an evil entity-"
"Are you retarded? That's not an evil spirit in Timmy's body." Kyle stopped him, frowning. "I agree this isn't normal, but...Who knows? I mean, I am no doctor, but perhaps the bullet made some good change. Perhaps they fixed his brain somehow at the hospital."
"Perhaps?" Kenny shrugged.
"If it was that easy, they would have done it before, don't you think?" Craig replied.
"I'm just saying that maybe, just maybe, the doctors fixed him accidentally." Kyle insisted.
"That sounds plausible to me." Stan said.
"I still think this is something supernatural." Cartman took deep air loudly through the nose. "...And I'm going to find out."
It seemed he had taken his own theory very seriously because he quickly walked away after muttering that. The others didn't follow him.
"This guy's an idiot." Craig said.
"Well, I don't know you," Token declared "but I really don't mind what caused these changes. Perhaps he's been receiving some therapy and now it's starting to work. I'm happy for him. He can finally talk and walk. He's cheerful like I've never seen him before, and I think that's all that matters."
"...Yeah, you're right. At the end of the day, that's what we should be concerned about…" Kyle muttered, looking at his own feet.
"I still think it's amazing, though..." Butters mumbled so low only he could hear himself.
Also, there was something in his mind that was eating him. He didn't share it with his friends, but it bothered him during the whole morning. It came to a point when he had to do something about it. And what his mind was commanding him to do was find Jimmy and talk to him about the whole matter.
He did, during lunch. Timmy and Jimmy were together, and he used an excuse to talk to Jimmy privately ("we have to plan our next rehersal for the Crimson Dawn"). Once he left Timmy with Michael and other Special Ed kids, Butters led Jimmy to a corner.
"W-What's up?" Jimmy asked, guessing instantly that the band thing was just an excuse.
"I wanted to ask you, Jimmy...What do you think of what's happened to Timmy?" Butters asked him in low voice.
"...What d-do I think of it?"
"Yeah, I mean...You guys have the same...the same..."
"Disorder?"
"That's right. Uh..."
"Oh, and you want to k-k-know what I think about it?" At Butters' nod, Jimmy raised his eyebrows. "Well, what do you want me to think? I'm so ha-ha-happy Timmy's not only alive, but impr-impr-improving!"
"I mean, before the shooting he was behind you..."
"Come on, Butters, this is not a competition to see-see who is the most handic-handica-hand-handicapable. We all have our own pace. T-Timmy was less functional, now he's ta-talking perfectly and taking his f-f-first steps. Good for him!"
"I-I didn't mean to offend you, Jimmy." Butters bashfully said. "I just can't understand how this is possible."
"It's possible because that guy's the f-f-fucking crack."
While returning to the table, Jimmy started to think, though...
He couldn't deny all of this was really strange. He had cerebral palsy himself. He knew how it worked. When he met Timmy, he also noticed the differences between them, even having the same condition, and understood they had different degrees. Timmy was one of those who could have a normal life but would never be able to do some things he did, they told him. That was why Jimmy was kind of protective to him sometimes. It was not a competition, but he was in a better place than him.
Now...Things have changed in such a way he couldn't deny he felt very disoriented. His best friend was now showing an improvement he had never experienced with years and years of therapy. Timmy had gone from not being able to control his speech to having a perfect diction, all in record time. He...He couldn't help stuttering, as much as he spoke and tried. Timmy had left his wheelchair home—there he was, standing up without his crutches, to show Michael. He, on the other hand, still needed them.
A thought crossed his mind: it isn't fair.
Soon he shook his head, thinking that what he had just thought was nasty. He was glad for his friend Timmy, he really was. And, even though his improvement had been so quick and amazingly effective, seeing him so happy made him think nothing else mattered.
"What's wrong with Butters?" Timmy asked when he sat down.
"Huh?"
"You...You've been talking about me, right?"
Jimmy didn't know what to say for a second.
"Wh-Why do you say that, dude?"
"...Nothing. Sorry."
"...Hey." Jimmy placed a hand on Timmy's shoulder. "Don't listen t-t-to them. They just don't know h-h-how hard you've worked all this time."
Timmy smiled and placed a hand on his.
"Thanks, Jimmy."
Jimmy smiled back at him showing his braces.
