Opening A/N
I want to thank everyone (or those few people) for reviewing the first chapter of 'High School Escapades', 'A Little Introduction' (though I'm a little disappointed with the total of reviews so far - but I guess that reviews come with recognition). I've decided to begin writing the second chapter right away. Now that I've introduced MOST of the main characters, I can build on the plotlines I mentioned in my first chapter. Please note, however, that I have very little knowledge of the American education system - as I grew up in Britain. I'll simply use my imagination (and the little understanding I have from other fan fictions) and create my own system, though it'll probably be very far from reality.
Anyway, enjoy chapter two! Don't forget to review!
==========
Stan, Kyle, Cartman and Kenny approached the entrance of South Park High School, along with several other kids. All of a sudden, more and more kids appeared, trickling like tributaries into a main river of bodies; flowing towards the building. Amongst the crowd of chattering kids, Stan and his friends struggled to breath, as they were whisked off towards the building. Somehow, they managed to break away from the group and take refuge to the side, panting. As the rabble subsided; the boys began climbing the stone steps that led up to the entrance of the school. They pushed the heavy double-doors ajar, and stepped inside.
Ahead of the group was a long corridor - the main corridor of the school. It intercepted and spawned other smaller corridors, forming a labyrinth-like structure of winding passageways. The corridors themselves were typical of such schools. The blandly-painted walls were plastered with message boards; jam-packed with memos and notices. Colourful posters promoting school clubs and teams sat alongside them, adding life to an otherwise sombre scene. Door and lockers were everywhere, ranged like light infantry along the walls, each individual one named and numbered.
In terms of bodies, the corridors were literally overcrowded with people; looking like Mexico City on a busy day… minus the Mexicans, of course. Students and teachers alike were everywhere; rummaging through lockers, rushing about frantically, or just hanging around and talking. Stan, Kyle, Cartman and Kenny began to squeeze their way down the corridor (Cartman especially), passing a few familiar faces on the way. All of the boys (along with most of their classmates from Elementary) were based in room twenty-eight. The room was to the far end of the corridor, near the Main Hall; so it took quite a while for the boys to reach it through the crowds. They eventually did, and they stopped at the door. It was your average door; a wooden one, with a frosted glass panel. A sign hung from it, reading '28'. Stan pushed the door open, and he and the others stepped inside.
The room, painted yellow, was of mediocre size. Fifteen or so small desks filled the room, and several students were already sitting down. At the head of the room was a blackboard. Next to the board was another desk, much larger than the others, which was empty. Message boards and small posters, as was the case in the corridors, covered the walls. Adjacent to the door was a large window, that covered most of the wall. Outside, the snow was again falling heavily, and the tarmac of the main yard was buried beneath a thick white quilt. Stan, Kyle, Cartman and Kenny took their seats. The seating plan was as follows… Back row: Cartman, Kenny, Kyle, Stan and Wendy. Middle row: Bebe, Clyde, Craig and Token. Front row: Butters, Jordan, Pip and Tweek. At that moment, however, only Stan, Kyle, Cartman, Kenny, Wendy, Butters and Tweek were in their seats. After a few seconds, a bell rang and the door burst open. The rest of the students emptied into the room, talking and laughing amongst themselves. They all took their respective seats, and continued talking to each other.
Jordan was an average girl, of normal height and weight. She had curly, shoulder-length blond hair and blue eyes. She was wearing a brown coat and black trousers. Jordan had been in the same class as Stan, Kyle, Cartman and Kenny since kindergarten, but nobody seemed to pay any attention to her - she was a background figure. She was a bit of a tomboy, and hung around more with boys than other girls. Her main friendships existed outside of school.
Red was similar in build to Jordan. She had deep natural red hair and emerald-green eyes. She was wearing a blue coat (with light purple trimmings), dark blue trousers and light purple gloves. Red was an attractive girl, but she was quite arrogant. As a result, she wasn't all too popular. She used to hang around with Wendy and Bebe in grade school, but now Red got little notice outside of her own group of friends… which didn't include either Wendy or Bebe.
Pip was quite a short kid. He had shoulder-length blond hair and blue eyes. He was wearing a brown cap (with black trimmings), a white shirt under a red jacket (with black trimmings), turquoise trousers and a brown bowtie. Pip was originally from England, and was often ridiculed in Elementary School. Since then, however, most kids had began to tolerate Pip (though not all actually accepted him). Both of Pip's parents were dead, and he'd lived in an orphanage when he was younger. Nowadays, though, no-one really knew where he lived… nor cared where he lived.
As the class continued to wait for the arrival of their teacher, who would give them their timetables then send them to their lessons, Cartman leaned over to his right to talk to Kenny.
"So, Kenny," he began. "When are you planning on moving out of your shack?" Kenny looked offended for a little while, but let it pass.
"I'm not sure." He admitted, thinking. "But I'll probably tell my parents in a little while. To be honest, I don't think they'll care about me leaving - but they might want me to stay for the sake of the money I bring home."
"And that's exactly why your leaving!" Cartman exclaimed, stamping his foot (as he did in chapter 1). "You're family are poor-ass losers, and the only reason they want you around is because you work and provide for them! Goddamn it, Kenny - you shouldn't have to do that!" Kenny nodded.
"I know. I mean, you've got a single mom - and she fucks things for a living! She's a dirty whore, but at least she tries to earn some money!" Cartman nodded.
"That's - ay!" He shot Kenny an angry glance, having only just realised what he'd said. Kenny simply shrugged.
"Well, it's the truth," Kenny said. Cartman thought for a while, then sighed.
"Alright, I'll let you off this once - but don't let it happen while you're staying at my place, you poor piece of crap." He said, sternly. Kenny just nodded.
"Sure thing, fat ass," he replied, grinning. Cartman rolled his eyes, but didn't bother to counter with another insult of his own. At that moment, the classroom door opened and all eyes fell on the front of the class. The students let out a unified (and, therefore, deafening) groan, as a middle-aged man stepped into the room.
He was quite tall; with very little grey hair, blue eyes and glasses. He was wearing a light green jacket and dark green trousers. It was, of course, the kids' former Fourth Grade teacher, Mr Garrison. Mr Garrison was a homosexual. He'd lived in denial up until the Fourth Grade, when he finally came out. Plain and simply, he was a total pervert. The kids thought they'd seen the last of him when they left grade school but, apparently, they'd yet to see the last of Hebert Garrison.
"Okay, class, settle down." Garrison said, walking across the room and dumping a large stack of papers onto the desk. He picked up a piece of chalk, and began to write his name on the blackboard. "I'm your new homeroom teacher, Mr Garrison. That's spelt - "
"We know who you are," Stan interrupted, cutting Garrison off in mid-flow. "You taught us all the way through grade school, remember?!" Garrison turned around, recognising Stan's voice, and was shocked to see him.
"Stanley?" He asked, almost frozen with shock. Stan nodded. Garrison looked around the room, eyeing the other students - all of whom he had indeed taught all the way through grade school. "Oh no - this can't be!" He continued to look around until his gaze, as if drawn upon the fat ass by his own gravitational pull, landed on Eric Cartman. "Oh God! Not you?!" Cartman winced.
"How do you think I feel?! I thought I'd never have to see you again, but… Goddamn it!" He groaned. Garrison shook his head furiously, as if trying to clear it. He spoke quietly, but audibly enough for the students to hear and understand him.
"Okay, okay, okay. It's been a long time; I'm sure you've all matured." He said, pacing about the room. "And even if you haven't, there's nothing I can do now." Kyle nodded.
"I think you'll find that we have matured, and we haven't got all day; so hurry up and give us our timetables!" He said, quite monotonically. Garrison stopped pacing the room and looked up.
"I - I left them in the staff restroom. I'll be right back!" He said, hurrying out of the room and slamming the door behind him. As soon as Garrison had gone, the class erupted into noise.
"Oh, man! I can't believe this!" Stan groaned, his face in his hands.
"It's not that bad, Stan," Wendy said, leaning over from her seat. "He used to take advantage of our lack of knowledge, and fill our heads with all sorts of crazy stuff. But we're in High School now, so he can't mess us around like he used to when we were kids." Stan looked over at her and smiled.
"You're right. And even if you weren't, he's only our homeroom teacher - so we won't have to be around him much." He said, obviously looking on the bright side. Is was something Stan was always able to do when he was around Wendy. Cartman, on the other hand, wasn't to be so easily swayed.
"I might as well be dead!" He snarled, in conversation with Kenny. "Now I have to put up with that fucking asshole every fucking day for the whole fucking year!" He quietened down a little, seemingly calm, before bursting-out again. "I hate that fucking queer!"
"You're not the only one," Kenny said. "But there's nothing we can do. We'll just have to put up with the sick bastard." Cartman looked over at Kenny, his face reddening with rage, and then mumbled something under his breath. As other students expressed their disgust at having Mr Garrison back, he burst in through the door. He was carrying a small wallet.
"Okay, children," Garrison began, "I have your timetables in this wallet. I'll hand them out alphabetically. Remember, when it comes to your classes, 'L' stands for lower; 'A' stands for average; and 'H' stands for higher." He continued, now moving swiftly around the room, handing out timetables. "And don't feel too bad if you're in a lot of lower groups; you might be able to make some money for smack by selling yourselves on the streets of Denver in the future."
Garrison walked to the front of the class, having just given Token his timetable. He surveyed the scene. Most kids were looking relatively content, some overjoyed, and some devastated.
"Oh, weak, dude!" Cartman exclaimed, gazing angrily at his timetable. "I only made one average class this year!" He was tempted to scrunch the timetable, but settled for crushing it into his pocket - out of his sight. Over to Cartman's left, Stan looked far more content.
"I made mostly higher classes, one or two average classes, and no lower classes at all!" He said, grinning widely. Wendy and Kyle leaned over, curious. Stan handed Wendy his timetable, who scanned it with her eyes.
"We have a lot of lessons together this time," she said, smiling. She handed the timetable to Kyle, who too took a quick look.
"Yep," he began, "it looks like all three of us will be seeing a lot less of Cartman for the next year." Smiling, Kyle handed Stan his timetable again. "Things have gone pretty well, huh?" He asked. Stan nodded.
"Yeah," he replied. Garrison sat down at his desk, leaving the students to discuss their timetables in the last ten minutes before first lesson. When the ten minutes were up, Garrison dismissed the class.
Stan, Kyle and Wendy walked out into the cramped corridor, which was again overflowing with students. Cartman and Kenny soon followed them out, stopping alongside them. Stan turned to Cartman, grinning. He just had to rub the salt in whilst the wounds were still fresh.
"We have higher English in room fifty-six now," he began, "what about you?" Cartman shot Stan an angry glance; seeing quite rightly that, within his question, was a subliminal insult.
"I have lower English is room twenty-nine," he replied, speaking angrily but quietly. Noticing Cartman's impending rage, Stan's own smile grew.
"Well, we'll be seeing you in a while, fat boy." He said; as he, Kyle and Wendy disappeared into the river of bodies flowing off to the right. Cartman's angry expression remained, as he and Kenny were swept off in the other direction.
"Goddamn stupid hippies," he grunted, pushing past everyone in his way. "They think they're so smart, just 'cause they have 'higher English'," Cartman continued, imitating Stan as he said 'higher English'. He continued, with Kenny, through the crowds to room twenty-nine. Groaning, he pushed the door open and walked inside.
The room was very similar to his homeroom, filled with desks and with a large window on the far wall. Grunting, Cartman sat down at the back of the room, and Kenny sat alongside him. There were a lot of students seated around them, talking amongst themselves. Cartman looked around, recognising Craig and Jordan in the sea of otherwise unfamiliar faces. At that moment, the door swung open and the teacher came inside.
He was a short and fat man, with a small amount of brown hair combed and gelled across his balding head. He had green eyes, and a pair of squared spectacles rested on his large reddening nose, which was splattered across his face like a tomato. He was wearing a white shirt beneath a dark blue sweater, and brown trousers. He was carrying a tower of papers in his arms, seemingly cradling it like a newborn baby.
The man walked across the classroom, stopped at the desk and dropped the pile of papers onto it. They landed with a crash, and immediately scattered across the desk's splintering wooden surface. The rickety frame of the desk buckled beneath the weight of the papers, as the teacher picked up an eraser and a piece of chalk.
"Okay students," he snorted, somewhat like a strangled piglet. "I'm Mr O'Connor - you might need some help spelling that, so I'll write it on the board." Turning to the board, O'Connor erased some notes from the previous term and then began to write his name. "That's O'-C-O-N-N-O-R. O'Connor." He said. Again snorting like the warthog he resembled, O'Connor turned to face the class. "We're going to be stuck together for the next year or so, so I suppose we'd better get to know each other. I'll just go around the class so you can introduce yourselves."
----------
Meanwhile, in room fifty-six; Kyle, Stan, Wendy were sitting together (in that order, left to right) in the centre of a small collection of students - the best in South Park High. People such as Pip and Mark were amongst them. The room was quite different from the others so far. It was much smaller, with less desks. A bulging bookshelf rested along the back wall, and there were several smaller windows in place of the larger one. At the head of the room was the teacher's desk and a large whiteboard. It was clear that the majority of the school's budget was concentrated on the higher classes. The teacher stood in front of the seated students, holding a small box of board markers in one hand and a book in the other.
She was a thin, fragile-looking middle-aged woman; with stringy grey hair and beady green eyes. Her wrinkling face was powdered with make-up, which gathered in her creases as the snow did in the smaller crevices of the mountains. She was wearing a pale pink shirt under a tattered white cardigan, which was yellowing with age, and pale pink trousers.
"Attention, students," she began; her grating, scraping voice sounding like a broken vinyl twice her age. "I am Mrs McClellan, and I am your higher English teacher." The students stared back at McClellan blankly, as she continued to speak. "Seeing as we'll be together for the next year, we'd better get acquainted. I'll take your names and record your seating positions, as I'll need some way to remember your faces." She leaned over and opened the top drawer of the desk, taking out a register and pen.
----------
Back in room twenty-nine, Mr O'Connor was walking around the class; being introduced to the students, one by one. He came to Cartman.
"Are you are?" He asked, taking a handkerchief from his pocket and blowing into it. Cartman winced as O'Connor grunted.
"Eric Cartman," Cartman replied, without looking up at O'Connor. O'Connor flicked through the register, muttering 'Cartman' to himself. He came to a collection of pages entitled 'Cartman, Eric Theodore'. His eyes scanned it quickly through his spectacles.
"Alright, Eric," O'Connor began, flicking through the 'Cartman' section. "It says here that your current grade average is 'F', and your target grade is 'E'." Cartman rolled his eyes, totally disinterested - he wasn't one for trying in school. "If you work hard this year, you might scrape an 'E'." Cartman nodded unenthusiastically, and O'Connor walked past him to Kenny. "Okay, who are you?" He asked, adjusting his spectacles.
"Kenny McCormick," Kenny replied. O'Connor nodded slightly, and flicked through his register. He came to the collection of pages entitled 'McCormick, Kenneth'. O'Connor snorted, scanning and flicking through the pages.
"Okay, Kenny," he began, "you seem to be doing okay. You're grade average is 'D', and your target is 'D'. If you keep working at your current level, you should maintain your target. Hell, if you work hard enough, you could surpass it." Kenny nodded, a little more interested in succeeding than Cartman. He did not want to emulate his father. "Nice meeting you, son," O'Connor said, passing by him and on to the next student.
----------
In room fifty-six, Mrs McClellan was going through the same procedure with her higher English pupils. She had just come to Kyle.
"Your name, please," McClellan said, without looking up from her register. Kyle cleared his throat, which was a little dry from the lack of talking he'd done.
"Kyle Brovlofski, ma'am," he replied. McClellan wrote his name down on a sheet of paper, which seemed to be her seating plan, and flicked through her register. She came to the 'Brovlofski, Kyle' section, and then scanned the pages with her beady eyes. Flicking through, she again nodded in approval.
"Kyle, you are doing very well," she began, "you're current grade average is a 'B', and your target grade is an 'A-'. With a little work, I see no reason why you can't reach your minimum potential." Without another word, McClellan moved on to Stan, who was talking to Wendy. McClellan noticed this, and cleared her throat loudly. Stan jumped in his seat and turned around, startled. "Name?" She asked, beginning to flick through the register.
"Stan Marsh," he replied, looking up at McClellan. She continued to flick through the register, until she came to the section entitled 'Marsh, Stanley'. "Okay, Stanley," McClellan began, "you're doing okay. You're grade average is a 'B-', and you're target is 'B'." She looked over at Wendy, then back at Stan. "If you spend a little less time talking, and a little more time working, you might achieve your target". McClellan walked past Stan and over to Wendy. "What's your name?"
"Wendy Testaburger, ma'am," she replied. McClellan turned quickly to the pages entitled 'Testaburger, Wendy', and looked through them; nodding with approval. "In spite of your attitude," she began (Wendy looked a little confused, but still listened intently), "you're grade average is 'A', and your target grade is 'A' - you're doing very well." McClellan closed her register and walked to the front of the class. She cleared her throat to grab the attention of the students.
"Okay, students," McClellan began. "I've taken a note of your current seating positions, so please sit in the same place every lesson." She reached over to the desk, and took a board marker out of it's case. She walked over to the board. "Anyway, it's time to begin." McClellan turned to face the board, and wrote 'Poetry Devices: Iambic Pentameter'. The class groaned in union.
The lesson passed slowly, with Mrs McClellan droning on and on, drumming in the effectiveness of poetic techniques repeatedly until she sounded like a broken record. Though bored out of their minds, the students listened carefully and, eventually, the bell sounded for recess.
"Okay, students," McClellan said, picking up the eraser. "I hope you've all learned something about poetic techniques this morning." She turned around, beginning to clear the board. "Seeing as this is your first day back, I won't be setting any homework - but don't expect such generosity in the future. Class dismissed." With that, the students bolted from their seats and out of the door; as if they'd been choked of clean air for the past two hours or so. Stan, Kyle and Wendy were amongst those students.
"Oh, man! What a bitch!" Stan exclaimed. Kyle and Wendy nodded. "I swear, if I didn't have you guys, I'd shoot myself." Kyle laughed and nodded.
"Yeah," he began. "If we weren't in the same class, and I was stuck in there by myself, I'd probably go insane. And if I have to hear about 'iambic pentameter' one more time, I don't know what I'd be driven to!". The trio walked along the cramped corridor towards the main entrance and the yard.
"She seems real strict," Wendy added. "Stan and I were only talking quietly while she was going around the class; and she acts as if we committed a hate crime, or something!" Stan and Kyle laughed, and Wendy shook her head. "She must have some real emotional problems." Stan nodded.
"Yeah," he said, as the group neared the main entrance. Pushing the heavy doors open, they walked out onto the snow-laden yard, which almost looked more like Alaska than Colorado. The snow was, however, falling much less heavily now. Stan, Kyle and Wendy stopped in the centre of the yard. Just then, Cartman and Kenny approached them. Cartman looked really pissed off, and the others noticed.
"Oh my God, that completely sucked ass!" Cartman yelled, loud enough to wake the dead. Stan sighed.
"What is it, fat ass?" He asked. Cartman shot him an angry glance.
"I'll let that insult go for now, Stan. Anyway, it's our Goddamn English teacher - he's an asshole! He treats us like we're total dumb asses!" Kyle grinned.
"You ARE a total dumb ass, Cartman," he snickered. Cartman gave Kyle an equally unfriendly look, but again let it go.
"No, no - you don't understand, Jew! I mean, he came into the room and said 'I'm Mr O'Connor, you might need help spelling that'… and then he wrote his name on the board!" Cartman spoke disgustedly, and Wendy rolled her eyes.
"Cartman, spell 'O'Connor'," she said. Cartman glared at Wendy.
"O'-K-O-N-N-A-R-R. Oh, Goddamn it!" Cartman exclaimed, stamping his feet. "Well, that's not the point," he continued, "O'Connor's a total douche bag!"
"You think YOU'VE got it bad?" Kyle asked, rhetorically. "Our teacher's real bitch!" At that very moment, the bell sounded for the next lesson. Stan groaned.
"What the Hell?! That didn't last very long!" He said. The others shrugged, and Stan took out his timetable. He scanned it quickly, and saw that he had higher Science. "Well, we've got higher Science now - guess we'll see you at lunchtime, Cartman." He, Kyle and Wendy turned around and headed again for main entrance. Cartman groaned, and followed them.
A short distance behind, Butters and Tweek were also heading for the main entrance. They weren't as intelligent as Stan, Kyle or Wendy, but not as unintelligent as Cartman or Kenny; and so they were both in the average Science group. The lesson was being taught in lab twelve, which was on the top floor of the main building.
"I made all a-average classes this year," Butters began, as he and Tweek pulled open the door of the main entrance. "I g-guess my parents will be happy." Tweek nodded.
"Y-yeah, I made average classes too. Argh!" He stopped and moved to the side of the hallway, taking a sip of coffee from the flask which was hooked onto his belt. Twitching, he replaced the flask and continued, with Butters, up the stairs to the Science department. Prior to this moment, neither Butters nor Tweek had ever been into the Science department. It was mangy and dark, the dusty walls plastered with tattered posters and aging memos. The rotting floorboards creaked beneath the feet of Butters and Tweek, as they neared lab twelve. "Oh, Jesus! This lab was taken right out of a horror movie, man." Tweek said. Butters' eyes widened.
"A h-horror movie?!" He spluttered, looking around nervously. "I-I don't really like h-horror movies." Tweek raised an eyebrow, his heading jerking to the side momentarily.
"You don't like horror movies?" He asked, stopping at a door. Butters shook his head. Tweek looked up at the door which was, like the floorboards, rotting and splintering. A small sign above it, dangling from the frame on a bent and rusty nail, read 'L 12'. Tweek looked over at Butters, who shrugged, and then pushed the door open.
In comparison to the dark and dank corridor, the actual interior of lab twelve was clean and tidy. The white walls were bordered with notices about 'health in the lab', alongside more colourful memos and scientific posters. Opposite the door were several small windows, through which trees, heavy with fresh white snow, could be seen. At the front of the room was a long wooden desk which, like all of the other small ones in the room, was nailed into the floor. Looking down at the floor, Butters could see his reflection and that of Tweek. In short, the room was overly clean and tidy - everything was sparkling and white. Looking around, Tweek noticed that most of the seats were already filled; and that everyone's eyes, include those of the teacher, were on Butters and himself. Tweek twitched violently.
"Argh! Too much pressure!" He exclaimed.
"Alright, boys, why are you so late?" The teacher, standing at the front of the room, asked. He was a tall and thin man, about mid-thirties; with a mop of dark brown hair, a matching moustache and similarly-coloured eyes. He was wearing a dark brown shirt, light brown trousers and a red tie beneath a long white lab coat, which was barely buttoned and came down to his ankles.
"W-we couldn't find the l-lab, sir," Butters said, looking at the teacher. The teacher nodded.
"Alright, take a seat," he began. "Oh, by the way, I'm your Science teacher, Mr Griffin. And you are?"
"I'm Leo Stotch, but everyone calls me Butters," Butters began. "This is Tweek Tweak." He pointed at Tweek, who twitched nervously. Griffin nodded, and Butters and Tweek sat alongside each other at the back of the room.
"Okay, class, as I was saying," Griffin began. "This year, your last in High School, will probably be the most important year of your life so far." He turned to the board, and began writing. "There will be a lot of exams, so there'll be a big onus on YOU to handle this…" Griffin moved aside, revealing the word that he'd just written on the board - 'pressure'. Tweek's eyes widened, and he jumped up from his seat.
"Argh?! Pressure?!" He yelled, almost automatically. Griffin recoiled, surprised. Tweek looked around, really embarrassed, and then sat back down.
"That's… right, Tweek," Griffin said, giving Tweek a strange look before turning back to the board.
"Mr Griffin?" Tweek tried to grab Griffin's attention, raising his hand and waving it around. Griffin turned around again.
"What is it, Tweek?" He asked, folding his arms.
"Argh! I really need to go to the bathroom." Griffin nodded.
"Alright, but hurry up - I'll be timing you," he said. Tweek shot up from his seat and towards the door.
"Timing me?! That's way too much pressure, man!" He said, hurrying out of the door. Griffin, looking confused, turned back to the board and continued teaching. The rest of the lesson passed quickly and, eventually, the ball rang to signal the end. Griffin looked up at the bell, which was mounted on the wall above his head, and grabbed an eraser from the desk.
"Class dismissed," he said, cleaning the notes from the board. The students hurried from their seats and out of the room, with much more speed and enthusiasm than they'd had when they were coming in.
----------
Down in the cafeteria, Kyle, Stan and Wendy (in that order, front to back) were waiting in the lunch line. The cafeteria was absolutely massive, almost dwarfing the rest of the school combined. At the far end of the room, opposite the pair of double-doors that were the entrances, was the kitchen. Everywhere else, there was nothing but tables, chairs and students. Several cleaners patrolled the room, picking up rubbish and collecting empty plates and trays. In the lunch line, which meandered like an indoor river along the walls of the cafeteria, Kyle turned around to face Stan.
"So," he began, "have you thought anymore about a party at the weekend?" Stan nodded.
"Yeah. I'm gonna have to go through with it, I can tell this is gonna be a long week. Besides, I haven't done anything like that in a while." Kyle nodded and Wendy leaned forward, overhearing the conversation.
"You're having a party at the weekend, Stan?" She asked. Stan nodded.
"Yeah. My parents are out of town again," he said, as they walked into the kitchen. Behind the counter was a large, black man. He had black, but greying, hair and dark brown eyes. He was wearing a red shirt, blue jeans, a chefs hat and an apron (reading 'CHEF'). He was, of course, Jerome McElroy - or 'Chef'.
"Hello there, children!" He exclaimed loudly and jovially. Kyle, Stan and Wendy were about to reply with 'hi, Chef', when they recoiled in surprise.
"Chef?!" Stan spluttered, his mouth agape. Chef nodded. "What are you doing here?!"
"It's a long story, children, so I'll cut it down a little. I quit my job at the Elementary school a few weeks ago and, within days, I was offered the job here - I just couldn't turn down the opportunity to see all my favourite little crackers again!" Kyle, Stan and Wendy smiled, as did Chef. "You've grown quite a lot."
"Well, it has been about seven years!" Kyle said. Chef laughed and nodded.
"Yeah, it has," he conceded. He looked at Kyle; and then at Stan and Wendy, who were holding hands. Chef smiled widely. "Well, I never," he began. "Don't tell me you two crackers still got something going on?!" Stan and Wendy both smiled a little.
"Yeah," Stan said. Chef shook his head in disbelief.
"And I thought it was just a silly childhood crush! How long is that now? Nine years?" He asked. Stan and Wendy both nodded. Chef looked at Wendy who, as I've already mentioned, had grown into a very attractive girl. "You're one Hell of a lucky cracker, Stan," Chef said. Stan nodded.
"Do you think I don't know that?" He asked, grinning. Wendy blushed a little.
"There's so much I want to talk to you three about, but I'll end up getting fired if I don't feed all of these kids!" Chef said, dumping some food on their plates. Stan thought for a minute, then spoke.
"Well, I'm planning on throwing a party at the weekend - you're welcome to come along. We could always catch up there." Chef thought, then smiled and nodded.
"I might just do that," he said. Looking at the long line of hungry kids, Chef motioned for Stan and the others to move along. "Let's go, you're holding up the line… and I'll see you tomorrow!" Kyle, Stan and Wendy walked out of the kitchen and sat down in the cafeteria to eat.
"Wow," Stan began, "I can't believe Chef's actually back!" Kyle nodded.
"Yeah. He seemed pretty pleased to see us again." He replied, picking at his plate of fries with his fork. Wendy looked over at Stan.
"Stan?" She caught his attention, and he looked back.
"What is it, Wendy?" He asked, putting down his soda can.
"I was just wondering," she began. "Who are you inviting to your party?" She asked. Stan thought for a few moments, then shrugged.
"I dunno. I guess it'll be the usual crowd - you, the guys and, if I let them know, most of the upper school will probably show up too."
"Me?" Wendy asked, a little surprised. Stan looked bemused.
"Well, yeah. I mean, if wouldn't be the same without my girlfriend there, would it?" He asked, taking a sip from his soda can. Wendy shook her head.
"No, it's not that. It's just that, well, I live on the other side of town." She said. Stan shrugged.
"So? You could always stay over. Like I said, my parents won't be around…" Stan suggested, taking another sip of soda. "I guess Kyle could stay too - I don't think his parents would take too kindly too him coming home at three or four in the morning!" Kyle nodded.
"Yeah, I suppose so," he replied. "But I'm guessing that the party will be my responsibility if you two decide to… finally get it on." Stan and Wendy looked at each other awkwardly, then at Kyle angrily.
"It's not like you've ever done it, Kyle!" Stan said, sounding a little angry. Kyle shrugged, and lifted his soda can to his mouth.
"No, but I haven't had a girlfriend for nine years," he said, drinking. Stan and Wendy again looked at each other.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the cafeteria, Cartman and Kenny were sitting together, talking.
"So," Cartman began, in between bites of a chocolate bar he'd bought. "When are you planning on telling your parents you're moving out?" Kenny didn't think for long.
"I'm probably gonna tell them tonight. If all goes as planned, I won't be sleeping that shit hole tonight, or ever again." He replied. Cartman grinned.
"Sweet!" He said, stuffing his face with another chocolate bar.
----------
The rest of the school day passed uneventfully. At long last, the bell sounded to indicate the end of the day. The classes were dismissed, and the students poured out into the yard like water from a jug. In the afternoon, Stan, Kyle, Cartman and Kenny always walked home together. Stan, Kyle and Wendy came out of the building, having just had another lesson together. They descended the stone steps of the building, and Stan turned to Wendy. He gave her a kiss.
"See you later, babe," he said, smiling.
"See you later, Stan," Wendy said, turning around and walking out of the school gates. Stan watched her until she disappeared around the corner. Stan and Kyle were now standing at the main entrance, waiting for Cartman and Kenny. After a few minutes or so, they came out of the doors and joined them.
"Hey, guys," Kenny said.
"Hey, Kenny," Stan and Kyle replied. Stan looked at Cartman.
"Hey, fat ass," he said, grinning. Cartman didn't bother answering. The four walked out of the school gates together, and out into the street.
"You guys," Kenny began, grabbing the attention of both Stan and Kyle. "By this time tomorrow, I won't be poor anymore!" Stan and Kyle looked at each other, confused.
"What do you mean?" Kyle asked.
"Well, I'm moving out of my house!" Kenny exclaimed excitedly. Stan and Kyle again looked bemused.
"Why?" Stan asked. Kenny rolled his eyes.
"Because, dumb ass, my family treat me like shit! They make me work and provide for them, when all they do is sit around on their asses!" He replied.
"Where are you moving into?" Stan asked. Kenny motioned towards Cartman, who was walking alongside him.
"I'm moving in with Cartman, he says his mom won't mind," he said. Stan shuddered.
"Dude, I'd rather live in your shack with your violent family and eat stale frozen waffles for dinner than move in with Cartman!" He said, laughing a little. Kenny shook his head.
"No you wouldn't. If you were to spend one minute in my house, you'd understand why I have to leave!" He said. Kenny looked down the snowy vale ahead. "This time tomorrow, I'll be free."
==========
Closing A/N
Well, there it is - the second chapter of 'High School Escapades'. It took me quite a long time to write, but I'm generally pleased with the eventual product.
Please R&R, and you'll be hearing from me soon.
I want to thank everyone (or those few people) for reviewing the first chapter of 'High School Escapades', 'A Little Introduction' (though I'm a little disappointed with the total of reviews so far - but I guess that reviews come with recognition). I've decided to begin writing the second chapter right away. Now that I've introduced MOST of the main characters, I can build on the plotlines I mentioned in my first chapter. Please note, however, that I have very little knowledge of the American education system - as I grew up in Britain. I'll simply use my imagination (and the little understanding I have from other fan fictions) and create my own system, though it'll probably be very far from reality.
Anyway, enjoy chapter two! Don't forget to review!
==========
Stan, Kyle, Cartman and Kenny approached the entrance of South Park High School, along with several other kids. All of a sudden, more and more kids appeared, trickling like tributaries into a main river of bodies; flowing towards the building. Amongst the crowd of chattering kids, Stan and his friends struggled to breath, as they were whisked off towards the building. Somehow, they managed to break away from the group and take refuge to the side, panting. As the rabble subsided; the boys began climbing the stone steps that led up to the entrance of the school. They pushed the heavy double-doors ajar, and stepped inside.
Ahead of the group was a long corridor - the main corridor of the school. It intercepted and spawned other smaller corridors, forming a labyrinth-like structure of winding passageways. The corridors themselves were typical of such schools. The blandly-painted walls were plastered with message boards; jam-packed with memos and notices. Colourful posters promoting school clubs and teams sat alongside them, adding life to an otherwise sombre scene. Door and lockers were everywhere, ranged like light infantry along the walls, each individual one named and numbered.
In terms of bodies, the corridors were literally overcrowded with people; looking like Mexico City on a busy day… minus the Mexicans, of course. Students and teachers alike were everywhere; rummaging through lockers, rushing about frantically, or just hanging around and talking. Stan, Kyle, Cartman and Kenny began to squeeze their way down the corridor (Cartman especially), passing a few familiar faces on the way. All of the boys (along with most of their classmates from Elementary) were based in room twenty-eight. The room was to the far end of the corridor, near the Main Hall; so it took quite a while for the boys to reach it through the crowds. They eventually did, and they stopped at the door. It was your average door; a wooden one, with a frosted glass panel. A sign hung from it, reading '28'. Stan pushed the door open, and he and the others stepped inside.
The room, painted yellow, was of mediocre size. Fifteen or so small desks filled the room, and several students were already sitting down. At the head of the room was a blackboard. Next to the board was another desk, much larger than the others, which was empty. Message boards and small posters, as was the case in the corridors, covered the walls. Adjacent to the door was a large window, that covered most of the wall. Outside, the snow was again falling heavily, and the tarmac of the main yard was buried beneath a thick white quilt. Stan, Kyle, Cartman and Kenny took their seats. The seating plan was as follows… Back row: Cartman, Kenny, Kyle, Stan and Wendy. Middle row: Bebe, Clyde, Craig and Token. Front row: Butters, Jordan, Pip and Tweek. At that moment, however, only Stan, Kyle, Cartman, Kenny, Wendy, Butters and Tweek were in their seats. After a few seconds, a bell rang and the door burst open. The rest of the students emptied into the room, talking and laughing amongst themselves. They all took their respective seats, and continued talking to each other.
Jordan was an average girl, of normal height and weight. She had curly, shoulder-length blond hair and blue eyes. She was wearing a brown coat and black trousers. Jordan had been in the same class as Stan, Kyle, Cartman and Kenny since kindergarten, but nobody seemed to pay any attention to her - she was a background figure. She was a bit of a tomboy, and hung around more with boys than other girls. Her main friendships existed outside of school.
Red was similar in build to Jordan. She had deep natural red hair and emerald-green eyes. She was wearing a blue coat (with light purple trimmings), dark blue trousers and light purple gloves. Red was an attractive girl, but she was quite arrogant. As a result, she wasn't all too popular. She used to hang around with Wendy and Bebe in grade school, but now Red got little notice outside of her own group of friends… which didn't include either Wendy or Bebe.
Pip was quite a short kid. He had shoulder-length blond hair and blue eyes. He was wearing a brown cap (with black trimmings), a white shirt under a red jacket (with black trimmings), turquoise trousers and a brown bowtie. Pip was originally from England, and was often ridiculed in Elementary School. Since then, however, most kids had began to tolerate Pip (though not all actually accepted him). Both of Pip's parents were dead, and he'd lived in an orphanage when he was younger. Nowadays, though, no-one really knew where he lived… nor cared where he lived.
As the class continued to wait for the arrival of their teacher, who would give them their timetables then send them to their lessons, Cartman leaned over to his right to talk to Kenny.
"So, Kenny," he began. "When are you planning on moving out of your shack?" Kenny looked offended for a little while, but let it pass.
"I'm not sure." He admitted, thinking. "But I'll probably tell my parents in a little while. To be honest, I don't think they'll care about me leaving - but they might want me to stay for the sake of the money I bring home."
"And that's exactly why your leaving!" Cartman exclaimed, stamping his foot (as he did in chapter 1). "You're family are poor-ass losers, and the only reason they want you around is because you work and provide for them! Goddamn it, Kenny - you shouldn't have to do that!" Kenny nodded.
"I know. I mean, you've got a single mom - and she fucks things for a living! She's a dirty whore, but at least she tries to earn some money!" Cartman nodded.
"That's - ay!" He shot Kenny an angry glance, having only just realised what he'd said. Kenny simply shrugged.
"Well, it's the truth," Kenny said. Cartman thought for a while, then sighed.
"Alright, I'll let you off this once - but don't let it happen while you're staying at my place, you poor piece of crap." He said, sternly. Kenny just nodded.
"Sure thing, fat ass," he replied, grinning. Cartman rolled his eyes, but didn't bother to counter with another insult of his own. At that moment, the classroom door opened and all eyes fell on the front of the class. The students let out a unified (and, therefore, deafening) groan, as a middle-aged man stepped into the room.
He was quite tall; with very little grey hair, blue eyes and glasses. He was wearing a light green jacket and dark green trousers. It was, of course, the kids' former Fourth Grade teacher, Mr Garrison. Mr Garrison was a homosexual. He'd lived in denial up until the Fourth Grade, when he finally came out. Plain and simply, he was a total pervert. The kids thought they'd seen the last of him when they left grade school but, apparently, they'd yet to see the last of Hebert Garrison.
"Okay, class, settle down." Garrison said, walking across the room and dumping a large stack of papers onto the desk. He picked up a piece of chalk, and began to write his name on the blackboard. "I'm your new homeroom teacher, Mr Garrison. That's spelt - "
"We know who you are," Stan interrupted, cutting Garrison off in mid-flow. "You taught us all the way through grade school, remember?!" Garrison turned around, recognising Stan's voice, and was shocked to see him.
"Stanley?" He asked, almost frozen with shock. Stan nodded. Garrison looked around the room, eyeing the other students - all of whom he had indeed taught all the way through grade school. "Oh no - this can't be!" He continued to look around until his gaze, as if drawn upon the fat ass by his own gravitational pull, landed on Eric Cartman. "Oh God! Not you?!" Cartman winced.
"How do you think I feel?! I thought I'd never have to see you again, but… Goddamn it!" He groaned. Garrison shook his head furiously, as if trying to clear it. He spoke quietly, but audibly enough for the students to hear and understand him.
"Okay, okay, okay. It's been a long time; I'm sure you've all matured." He said, pacing about the room. "And even if you haven't, there's nothing I can do now." Kyle nodded.
"I think you'll find that we have matured, and we haven't got all day; so hurry up and give us our timetables!" He said, quite monotonically. Garrison stopped pacing the room and looked up.
"I - I left them in the staff restroom. I'll be right back!" He said, hurrying out of the room and slamming the door behind him. As soon as Garrison had gone, the class erupted into noise.
"Oh, man! I can't believe this!" Stan groaned, his face in his hands.
"It's not that bad, Stan," Wendy said, leaning over from her seat. "He used to take advantage of our lack of knowledge, and fill our heads with all sorts of crazy stuff. But we're in High School now, so he can't mess us around like he used to when we were kids." Stan looked over at her and smiled.
"You're right. And even if you weren't, he's only our homeroom teacher - so we won't have to be around him much." He said, obviously looking on the bright side. Is was something Stan was always able to do when he was around Wendy. Cartman, on the other hand, wasn't to be so easily swayed.
"I might as well be dead!" He snarled, in conversation with Kenny. "Now I have to put up with that fucking asshole every fucking day for the whole fucking year!" He quietened down a little, seemingly calm, before bursting-out again. "I hate that fucking queer!"
"You're not the only one," Kenny said. "But there's nothing we can do. We'll just have to put up with the sick bastard." Cartman looked over at Kenny, his face reddening with rage, and then mumbled something under his breath. As other students expressed their disgust at having Mr Garrison back, he burst in through the door. He was carrying a small wallet.
"Okay, children," Garrison began, "I have your timetables in this wallet. I'll hand them out alphabetically. Remember, when it comes to your classes, 'L' stands for lower; 'A' stands for average; and 'H' stands for higher." He continued, now moving swiftly around the room, handing out timetables. "And don't feel too bad if you're in a lot of lower groups; you might be able to make some money for smack by selling yourselves on the streets of Denver in the future."
Garrison walked to the front of the class, having just given Token his timetable. He surveyed the scene. Most kids were looking relatively content, some overjoyed, and some devastated.
"Oh, weak, dude!" Cartman exclaimed, gazing angrily at his timetable. "I only made one average class this year!" He was tempted to scrunch the timetable, but settled for crushing it into his pocket - out of his sight. Over to Cartman's left, Stan looked far more content.
"I made mostly higher classes, one or two average classes, and no lower classes at all!" He said, grinning widely. Wendy and Kyle leaned over, curious. Stan handed Wendy his timetable, who scanned it with her eyes.
"We have a lot of lessons together this time," she said, smiling. She handed the timetable to Kyle, who too took a quick look.
"Yep," he began, "it looks like all three of us will be seeing a lot less of Cartman for the next year." Smiling, Kyle handed Stan his timetable again. "Things have gone pretty well, huh?" He asked. Stan nodded.
"Yeah," he replied. Garrison sat down at his desk, leaving the students to discuss their timetables in the last ten minutes before first lesson. When the ten minutes were up, Garrison dismissed the class.
Stan, Kyle and Wendy walked out into the cramped corridor, which was again overflowing with students. Cartman and Kenny soon followed them out, stopping alongside them. Stan turned to Cartman, grinning. He just had to rub the salt in whilst the wounds were still fresh.
"We have higher English in room fifty-six now," he began, "what about you?" Cartman shot Stan an angry glance; seeing quite rightly that, within his question, was a subliminal insult.
"I have lower English is room twenty-nine," he replied, speaking angrily but quietly. Noticing Cartman's impending rage, Stan's own smile grew.
"Well, we'll be seeing you in a while, fat boy." He said; as he, Kyle and Wendy disappeared into the river of bodies flowing off to the right. Cartman's angry expression remained, as he and Kenny were swept off in the other direction.
"Goddamn stupid hippies," he grunted, pushing past everyone in his way. "They think they're so smart, just 'cause they have 'higher English'," Cartman continued, imitating Stan as he said 'higher English'. He continued, with Kenny, through the crowds to room twenty-nine. Groaning, he pushed the door open and walked inside.
The room was very similar to his homeroom, filled with desks and with a large window on the far wall. Grunting, Cartman sat down at the back of the room, and Kenny sat alongside him. There were a lot of students seated around them, talking amongst themselves. Cartman looked around, recognising Craig and Jordan in the sea of otherwise unfamiliar faces. At that moment, the door swung open and the teacher came inside.
He was a short and fat man, with a small amount of brown hair combed and gelled across his balding head. He had green eyes, and a pair of squared spectacles rested on his large reddening nose, which was splattered across his face like a tomato. He was wearing a white shirt beneath a dark blue sweater, and brown trousers. He was carrying a tower of papers in his arms, seemingly cradling it like a newborn baby.
The man walked across the classroom, stopped at the desk and dropped the pile of papers onto it. They landed with a crash, and immediately scattered across the desk's splintering wooden surface. The rickety frame of the desk buckled beneath the weight of the papers, as the teacher picked up an eraser and a piece of chalk.
"Okay students," he snorted, somewhat like a strangled piglet. "I'm Mr O'Connor - you might need some help spelling that, so I'll write it on the board." Turning to the board, O'Connor erased some notes from the previous term and then began to write his name. "That's O'-C-O-N-N-O-R. O'Connor." He said. Again snorting like the warthog he resembled, O'Connor turned to face the class. "We're going to be stuck together for the next year or so, so I suppose we'd better get to know each other. I'll just go around the class so you can introduce yourselves."
----------
Meanwhile, in room fifty-six; Kyle, Stan, Wendy were sitting together (in that order, left to right) in the centre of a small collection of students - the best in South Park High. People such as Pip and Mark were amongst them. The room was quite different from the others so far. It was much smaller, with less desks. A bulging bookshelf rested along the back wall, and there were several smaller windows in place of the larger one. At the head of the room was the teacher's desk and a large whiteboard. It was clear that the majority of the school's budget was concentrated on the higher classes. The teacher stood in front of the seated students, holding a small box of board markers in one hand and a book in the other.
She was a thin, fragile-looking middle-aged woman; with stringy grey hair and beady green eyes. Her wrinkling face was powdered with make-up, which gathered in her creases as the snow did in the smaller crevices of the mountains. She was wearing a pale pink shirt under a tattered white cardigan, which was yellowing with age, and pale pink trousers.
"Attention, students," she began; her grating, scraping voice sounding like a broken vinyl twice her age. "I am Mrs McClellan, and I am your higher English teacher." The students stared back at McClellan blankly, as she continued to speak. "Seeing as we'll be together for the next year, we'd better get acquainted. I'll take your names and record your seating positions, as I'll need some way to remember your faces." She leaned over and opened the top drawer of the desk, taking out a register and pen.
----------
Back in room twenty-nine, Mr O'Connor was walking around the class; being introduced to the students, one by one. He came to Cartman.
"Are you are?" He asked, taking a handkerchief from his pocket and blowing into it. Cartman winced as O'Connor grunted.
"Eric Cartman," Cartman replied, without looking up at O'Connor. O'Connor flicked through the register, muttering 'Cartman' to himself. He came to a collection of pages entitled 'Cartman, Eric Theodore'. His eyes scanned it quickly through his spectacles.
"Alright, Eric," O'Connor began, flicking through the 'Cartman' section. "It says here that your current grade average is 'F', and your target grade is 'E'." Cartman rolled his eyes, totally disinterested - he wasn't one for trying in school. "If you work hard this year, you might scrape an 'E'." Cartman nodded unenthusiastically, and O'Connor walked past him to Kenny. "Okay, who are you?" He asked, adjusting his spectacles.
"Kenny McCormick," Kenny replied. O'Connor nodded slightly, and flicked through his register. He came to the collection of pages entitled 'McCormick, Kenneth'. O'Connor snorted, scanning and flicking through the pages.
"Okay, Kenny," he began, "you seem to be doing okay. You're grade average is 'D', and your target is 'D'. If you keep working at your current level, you should maintain your target. Hell, if you work hard enough, you could surpass it." Kenny nodded, a little more interested in succeeding than Cartman. He did not want to emulate his father. "Nice meeting you, son," O'Connor said, passing by him and on to the next student.
----------
In room fifty-six, Mrs McClellan was going through the same procedure with her higher English pupils. She had just come to Kyle.
"Your name, please," McClellan said, without looking up from her register. Kyle cleared his throat, which was a little dry from the lack of talking he'd done.
"Kyle Brovlofski, ma'am," he replied. McClellan wrote his name down on a sheet of paper, which seemed to be her seating plan, and flicked through her register. She came to the 'Brovlofski, Kyle' section, and then scanned the pages with her beady eyes. Flicking through, she again nodded in approval.
"Kyle, you are doing very well," she began, "you're current grade average is a 'B', and your target grade is an 'A-'. With a little work, I see no reason why you can't reach your minimum potential." Without another word, McClellan moved on to Stan, who was talking to Wendy. McClellan noticed this, and cleared her throat loudly. Stan jumped in his seat and turned around, startled. "Name?" She asked, beginning to flick through the register.
"Stan Marsh," he replied, looking up at McClellan. She continued to flick through the register, until she came to the section entitled 'Marsh, Stanley'. "Okay, Stanley," McClellan began, "you're doing okay. You're grade average is a 'B-', and you're target is 'B'." She looked over at Wendy, then back at Stan. "If you spend a little less time talking, and a little more time working, you might achieve your target". McClellan walked past Stan and over to Wendy. "What's your name?"
"Wendy Testaburger, ma'am," she replied. McClellan turned quickly to the pages entitled 'Testaburger, Wendy', and looked through them; nodding with approval. "In spite of your attitude," she began (Wendy looked a little confused, but still listened intently), "you're grade average is 'A', and your target grade is 'A' - you're doing very well." McClellan closed her register and walked to the front of the class. She cleared her throat to grab the attention of the students.
"Okay, students," McClellan began. "I've taken a note of your current seating positions, so please sit in the same place every lesson." She reached over to the desk, and took a board marker out of it's case. She walked over to the board. "Anyway, it's time to begin." McClellan turned to face the board, and wrote 'Poetry Devices: Iambic Pentameter'. The class groaned in union.
The lesson passed slowly, with Mrs McClellan droning on and on, drumming in the effectiveness of poetic techniques repeatedly until she sounded like a broken record. Though bored out of their minds, the students listened carefully and, eventually, the bell sounded for recess.
"Okay, students," McClellan said, picking up the eraser. "I hope you've all learned something about poetic techniques this morning." She turned around, beginning to clear the board. "Seeing as this is your first day back, I won't be setting any homework - but don't expect such generosity in the future. Class dismissed." With that, the students bolted from their seats and out of the door; as if they'd been choked of clean air for the past two hours or so. Stan, Kyle and Wendy were amongst those students.
"Oh, man! What a bitch!" Stan exclaimed. Kyle and Wendy nodded. "I swear, if I didn't have you guys, I'd shoot myself." Kyle laughed and nodded.
"Yeah," he began. "If we weren't in the same class, and I was stuck in there by myself, I'd probably go insane. And if I have to hear about 'iambic pentameter' one more time, I don't know what I'd be driven to!". The trio walked along the cramped corridor towards the main entrance and the yard.
"She seems real strict," Wendy added. "Stan and I were only talking quietly while she was going around the class; and she acts as if we committed a hate crime, or something!" Stan and Kyle laughed, and Wendy shook her head. "She must have some real emotional problems." Stan nodded.
"Yeah," he said, as the group neared the main entrance. Pushing the heavy doors open, they walked out onto the snow-laden yard, which almost looked more like Alaska than Colorado. The snow was, however, falling much less heavily now. Stan, Kyle and Wendy stopped in the centre of the yard. Just then, Cartman and Kenny approached them. Cartman looked really pissed off, and the others noticed.
"Oh my God, that completely sucked ass!" Cartman yelled, loud enough to wake the dead. Stan sighed.
"What is it, fat ass?" He asked. Cartman shot him an angry glance.
"I'll let that insult go for now, Stan. Anyway, it's our Goddamn English teacher - he's an asshole! He treats us like we're total dumb asses!" Kyle grinned.
"You ARE a total dumb ass, Cartman," he snickered. Cartman gave Kyle an equally unfriendly look, but again let it go.
"No, no - you don't understand, Jew! I mean, he came into the room and said 'I'm Mr O'Connor, you might need help spelling that'… and then he wrote his name on the board!" Cartman spoke disgustedly, and Wendy rolled her eyes.
"Cartman, spell 'O'Connor'," she said. Cartman glared at Wendy.
"O'-K-O-N-N-A-R-R. Oh, Goddamn it!" Cartman exclaimed, stamping his feet. "Well, that's not the point," he continued, "O'Connor's a total douche bag!"
"You think YOU'VE got it bad?" Kyle asked, rhetorically. "Our teacher's real bitch!" At that very moment, the bell sounded for the next lesson. Stan groaned.
"What the Hell?! That didn't last very long!" He said. The others shrugged, and Stan took out his timetable. He scanned it quickly, and saw that he had higher Science. "Well, we've got higher Science now - guess we'll see you at lunchtime, Cartman." He, Kyle and Wendy turned around and headed again for main entrance. Cartman groaned, and followed them.
A short distance behind, Butters and Tweek were also heading for the main entrance. They weren't as intelligent as Stan, Kyle or Wendy, but not as unintelligent as Cartman or Kenny; and so they were both in the average Science group. The lesson was being taught in lab twelve, which was on the top floor of the main building.
"I made all a-average classes this year," Butters began, as he and Tweek pulled open the door of the main entrance. "I g-guess my parents will be happy." Tweek nodded.
"Y-yeah, I made average classes too. Argh!" He stopped and moved to the side of the hallway, taking a sip of coffee from the flask which was hooked onto his belt. Twitching, he replaced the flask and continued, with Butters, up the stairs to the Science department. Prior to this moment, neither Butters nor Tweek had ever been into the Science department. It was mangy and dark, the dusty walls plastered with tattered posters and aging memos. The rotting floorboards creaked beneath the feet of Butters and Tweek, as they neared lab twelve. "Oh, Jesus! This lab was taken right out of a horror movie, man." Tweek said. Butters' eyes widened.
"A h-horror movie?!" He spluttered, looking around nervously. "I-I don't really like h-horror movies." Tweek raised an eyebrow, his heading jerking to the side momentarily.
"You don't like horror movies?" He asked, stopping at a door. Butters shook his head. Tweek looked up at the door which was, like the floorboards, rotting and splintering. A small sign above it, dangling from the frame on a bent and rusty nail, read 'L 12'. Tweek looked over at Butters, who shrugged, and then pushed the door open.
In comparison to the dark and dank corridor, the actual interior of lab twelve was clean and tidy. The white walls were bordered with notices about 'health in the lab', alongside more colourful memos and scientific posters. Opposite the door were several small windows, through which trees, heavy with fresh white snow, could be seen. At the front of the room was a long wooden desk which, like all of the other small ones in the room, was nailed into the floor. Looking down at the floor, Butters could see his reflection and that of Tweek. In short, the room was overly clean and tidy - everything was sparkling and white. Looking around, Tweek noticed that most of the seats were already filled; and that everyone's eyes, include those of the teacher, were on Butters and himself. Tweek twitched violently.
"Argh! Too much pressure!" He exclaimed.
"Alright, boys, why are you so late?" The teacher, standing at the front of the room, asked. He was a tall and thin man, about mid-thirties; with a mop of dark brown hair, a matching moustache and similarly-coloured eyes. He was wearing a dark brown shirt, light brown trousers and a red tie beneath a long white lab coat, which was barely buttoned and came down to his ankles.
"W-we couldn't find the l-lab, sir," Butters said, looking at the teacher. The teacher nodded.
"Alright, take a seat," he began. "Oh, by the way, I'm your Science teacher, Mr Griffin. And you are?"
"I'm Leo Stotch, but everyone calls me Butters," Butters began. "This is Tweek Tweak." He pointed at Tweek, who twitched nervously. Griffin nodded, and Butters and Tweek sat alongside each other at the back of the room.
"Okay, class, as I was saying," Griffin began. "This year, your last in High School, will probably be the most important year of your life so far." He turned to the board, and began writing. "There will be a lot of exams, so there'll be a big onus on YOU to handle this…" Griffin moved aside, revealing the word that he'd just written on the board - 'pressure'. Tweek's eyes widened, and he jumped up from his seat.
"Argh?! Pressure?!" He yelled, almost automatically. Griffin recoiled, surprised. Tweek looked around, really embarrassed, and then sat back down.
"That's… right, Tweek," Griffin said, giving Tweek a strange look before turning back to the board.
"Mr Griffin?" Tweek tried to grab Griffin's attention, raising his hand and waving it around. Griffin turned around again.
"What is it, Tweek?" He asked, folding his arms.
"Argh! I really need to go to the bathroom." Griffin nodded.
"Alright, but hurry up - I'll be timing you," he said. Tweek shot up from his seat and towards the door.
"Timing me?! That's way too much pressure, man!" He said, hurrying out of the door. Griffin, looking confused, turned back to the board and continued teaching. The rest of the lesson passed quickly and, eventually, the ball rang to signal the end. Griffin looked up at the bell, which was mounted on the wall above his head, and grabbed an eraser from the desk.
"Class dismissed," he said, cleaning the notes from the board. The students hurried from their seats and out of the room, with much more speed and enthusiasm than they'd had when they were coming in.
----------
Down in the cafeteria, Kyle, Stan and Wendy (in that order, front to back) were waiting in the lunch line. The cafeteria was absolutely massive, almost dwarfing the rest of the school combined. At the far end of the room, opposite the pair of double-doors that were the entrances, was the kitchen. Everywhere else, there was nothing but tables, chairs and students. Several cleaners patrolled the room, picking up rubbish and collecting empty plates and trays. In the lunch line, which meandered like an indoor river along the walls of the cafeteria, Kyle turned around to face Stan.
"So," he began, "have you thought anymore about a party at the weekend?" Stan nodded.
"Yeah. I'm gonna have to go through with it, I can tell this is gonna be a long week. Besides, I haven't done anything like that in a while." Kyle nodded and Wendy leaned forward, overhearing the conversation.
"You're having a party at the weekend, Stan?" She asked. Stan nodded.
"Yeah. My parents are out of town again," he said, as they walked into the kitchen. Behind the counter was a large, black man. He had black, but greying, hair and dark brown eyes. He was wearing a red shirt, blue jeans, a chefs hat and an apron (reading 'CHEF'). He was, of course, Jerome McElroy - or 'Chef'.
"Hello there, children!" He exclaimed loudly and jovially. Kyle, Stan and Wendy were about to reply with 'hi, Chef', when they recoiled in surprise.
"Chef?!" Stan spluttered, his mouth agape. Chef nodded. "What are you doing here?!"
"It's a long story, children, so I'll cut it down a little. I quit my job at the Elementary school a few weeks ago and, within days, I was offered the job here - I just couldn't turn down the opportunity to see all my favourite little crackers again!" Kyle, Stan and Wendy smiled, as did Chef. "You've grown quite a lot."
"Well, it has been about seven years!" Kyle said. Chef laughed and nodded.
"Yeah, it has," he conceded. He looked at Kyle; and then at Stan and Wendy, who were holding hands. Chef smiled widely. "Well, I never," he began. "Don't tell me you two crackers still got something going on?!" Stan and Wendy both smiled a little.
"Yeah," Stan said. Chef shook his head in disbelief.
"And I thought it was just a silly childhood crush! How long is that now? Nine years?" He asked. Stan and Wendy both nodded. Chef looked at Wendy who, as I've already mentioned, had grown into a very attractive girl. "You're one Hell of a lucky cracker, Stan," Chef said. Stan nodded.
"Do you think I don't know that?" He asked, grinning. Wendy blushed a little.
"There's so much I want to talk to you three about, but I'll end up getting fired if I don't feed all of these kids!" Chef said, dumping some food on their plates. Stan thought for a minute, then spoke.
"Well, I'm planning on throwing a party at the weekend - you're welcome to come along. We could always catch up there." Chef thought, then smiled and nodded.
"I might just do that," he said. Looking at the long line of hungry kids, Chef motioned for Stan and the others to move along. "Let's go, you're holding up the line… and I'll see you tomorrow!" Kyle, Stan and Wendy walked out of the kitchen and sat down in the cafeteria to eat.
"Wow," Stan began, "I can't believe Chef's actually back!" Kyle nodded.
"Yeah. He seemed pretty pleased to see us again." He replied, picking at his plate of fries with his fork. Wendy looked over at Stan.
"Stan?" She caught his attention, and he looked back.
"What is it, Wendy?" He asked, putting down his soda can.
"I was just wondering," she began. "Who are you inviting to your party?" She asked. Stan thought for a few moments, then shrugged.
"I dunno. I guess it'll be the usual crowd - you, the guys and, if I let them know, most of the upper school will probably show up too."
"Me?" Wendy asked, a little surprised. Stan looked bemused.
"Well, yeah. I mean, if wouldn't be the same without my girlfriend there, would it?" He asked, taking a sip from his soda can. Wendy shook her head.
"No, it's not that. It's just that, well, I live on the other side of town." She said. Stan shrugged.
"So? You could always stay over. Like I said, my parents won't be around…" Stan suggested, taking another sip of soda. "I guess Kyle could stay too - I don't think his parents would take too kindly too him coming home at three or four in the morning!" Kyle nodded.
"Yeah, I suppose so," he replied. "But I'm guessing that the party will be my responsibility if you two decide to… finally get it on." Stan and Wendy looked at each other awkwardly, then at Kyle angrily.
"It's not like you've ever done it, Kyle!" Stan said, sounding a little angry. Kyle shrugged, and lifted his soda can to his mouth.
"No, but I haven't had a girlfriend for nine years," he said, drinking. Stan and Wendy again looked at each other.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the cafeteria, Cartman and Kenny were sitting together, talking.
"So," Cartman began, in between bites of a chocolate bar he'd bought. "When are you planning on telling your parents you're moving out?" Kenny didn't think for long.
"I'm probably gonna tell them tonight. If all goes as planned, I won't be sleeping that shit hole tonight, or ever again." He replied. Cartman grinned.
"Sweet!" He said, stuffing his face with another chocolate bar.
----------
The rest of the school day passed uneventfully. At long last, the bell sounded to indicate the end of the day. The classes were dismissed, and the students poured out into the yard like water from a jug. In the afternoon, Stan, Kyle, Cartman and Kenny always walked home together. Stan, Kyle and Wendy came out of the building, having just had another lesson together. They descended the stone steps of the building, and Stan turned to Wendy. He gave her a kiss.
"See you later, babe," he said, smiling.
"See you later, Stan," Wendy said, turning around and walking out of the school gates. Stan watched her until she disappeared around the corner. Stan and Kyle were now standing at the main entrance, waiting for Cartman and Kenny. After a few minutes or so, they came out of the doors and joined them.
"Hey, guys," Kenny said.
"Hey, Kenny," Stan and Kyle replied. Stan looked at Cartman.
"Hey, fat ass," he said, grinning. Cartman didn't bother answering. The four walked out of the school gates together, and out into the street.
"You guys," Kenny began, grabbing the attention of both Stan and Kyle. "By this time tomorrow, I won't be poor anymore!" Stan and Kyle looked at each other, confused.
"What do you mean?" Kyle asked.
"Well, I'm moving out of my house!" Kenny exclaimed excitedly. Stan and Kyle again looked bemused.
"Why?" Stan asked. Kenny rolled his eyes.
"Because, dumb ass, my family treat me like shit! They make me work and provide for them, when all they do is sit around on their asses!" He replied.
"Where are you moving into?" Stan asked. Kenny motioned towards Cartman, who was walking alongside him.
"I'm moving in with Cartman, he says his mom won't mind," he said. Stan shuddered.
"Dude, I'd rather live in your shack with your violent family and eat stale frozen waffles for dinner than move in with Cartman!" He said, laughing a little. Kenny shook his head.
"No you wouldn't. If you were to spend one minute in my house, you'd understand why I have to leave!" He said. Kenny looked down the snowy vale ahead. "This time tomorrow, I'll be free."
==========
Closing A/N
Well, there it is - the second chapter of 'High School Escapades'. It took me quite a long time to write, but I'm generally pleased with the eventual product.
Please R&R, and you'll be hearing from me soon.