It turned out Cartman was hitching a ride with Token.

I don't know how he pulled that shit off, after all those years of Token being 'a stupid, rich nigger'.

It was just short of a miracle.

So of course he asks if I need a ride, hoping, probably praying, that I wasn't speaking with Kyle anymore.

Asshole.

"No, I'm going to…a party," no way I'd say whose.

"Whose?"

"Butters'." GOD DAMN IT. How'd he do that?

Fuckin' crazy.

So he got this real bad look on his face that made me uncomfortable, so I headed for class. In Spanish, the teacher was jabbering, and eventually found his way to my name, "Senorita…er, Senor Kenneth?"

So I stopped writing 'Cartman was here' on the new Spanish books and looked up.

"What?"

"Buenos dias."

"…Kay."

"Buenos dias."

"Buenos tardes."

"Too early for tardes. Dias, dias, dias."

"…Kay."

He was really the only one that bothered to get me to talk in class. He seemed sort of pissed when I went back to shuffling my books and stuff.

I guess my mind was on something else during math, because I wrote McButters instead of my name. Unfortunately, it was on a note to Kyle, and it was returned with the name circled and a question mark next to it.

I grinned a little, because McButters was kind of funny. Kyle had his eyebrow raised when we made eyecontact at the end of class.

"You're going to Butters' party?"

"You're n…You know about that?"

"Of course I do."

"Uh…" How?

"Cartman's telling everyone."

"Shit, are you seriousl?"

"Yeah, man. And I was right about the hood thing."

"I don't…god DAMN IT."

"What's wrong? …Oh, the party. Right. Yeah, he's a douche."

It was so much worse than he thought. If his bitch-mother had achieved one thing, it was sheltering him at least a little. Now it's not that he still believed in Santa Claus, but I highly doubt that he's ever been to a real highschool party.

Like, this one time, last year, some chick threw this bash. About three hundred people showed, along with a bunch of alcohol, and possibly some drugs. The heavy shit too. I'm not sure; I was busy with someone in her pool.

Yeah. In her fuckin' pool.

I was so positive that was gonna end up just like that, and Butters would be grounded for years to come.

I wish that's how it would have turned out.

Jesus Christ, I wish it was.

After school, I got to Butters' homeroom, where the "Mole" (seriously, what the hell?) was sitting with him, thick eyebrows attempting to collide.

Butters looked up and grinned, and it made me feel like he really meant it. Not a lot of his smiles were like that one, and it made me feel good. I guess I'm kinda weird about how people smile or look at me. Mole gave me a skeptical glance, seeming totally disgusted with me. I guess we never clicked. I was told I saved his life though, once.

I've saved about everyone in South Park at least once.

By dying.

Mole finally gave me a smile that looked real enough and mumbled out a gruff and deep, "'Ello."

I gave him a smile in return, and a hello. I've noticed lately I sound cheerful a lot of the time. I'm not.

I don't think anyone's really aware that I'm human.
It's like teachers. When they mention their kids or husbands, it's like…

Holy shit.
She's a person.
She eats, sleeps, loves, and masturbates.
It's just weird.

I think it must be 'cause I'm quiet and I don't share strong opinions often, or back up the ones that I do. I just short of shoot stuff out there. Then everyone looks at me funny for saying something.

I'm Kenny, and I'm just there.

I may be their "fuh-fuh-friend", but I'm somewhat of a nonentity.

Butters was already toward the door when I finished the thought.

He was pretty quick, for a little guy.

"Cuh-come on, Kenny," he said, grinning and grinding his knuckles together. I caught myself adoring that habit. What the fuck is wrong with me? The kid's a fucking freak.

And I refer to him in my thoughts as "the kid".

Seriously, Ken, shape up.

"Yeah, comin'," I replied and so we found our way to this old, loud, dark green and rusted Volvo, that looked ready to spit oil on me in its dying breath. I giggled at the similarities of Volvo and "vulva".

I guess I'm just as much a kid as he is, but in another way.

He really is… Well, he grows on you.

CRAP FOR YOU:

..! That was shorrtt.
Um.
Sorry I suck so bad. xD
There's some heavy shit planned for Butters' birthday.
I may change the rating eventually. P:

KEEEEP REVIEWWWINNNGGG. D: