I don't know how many resumes I've printed out, how many places I've handed it out to, how many hours I've spent wandering around looking for places I'd be willing to work. My standards have dropped a little. Still no calls. I've double and tripled checked the number to make sure I didn't write it down wrong.
I can't keep doing this. It's exhausting, sleeping here in South Park and spending the rest of my damned time anywhere else. I have spent far too much money on gas in the last few weeks. Without any income to speak of, it's been making a dent in what little money I have saved up. Fuck, I need a job.
I woke up and made myself coffee in the house for the first time since I'd gotten home. It was a Wednesday, so I'd assumed my parents would be at work or something. I did feel bad for avoiding them like this, but not bad enough to stop.
After drinking my coffee, I sat around staring at walls. Hiding from the town felt a lot more pathetic when I wasn't running around, constantly busy. Sitting in one place and really thinking about how fucked up it was to avoid the town like this was almost unbearable. I felt like such a coward, such a pussy.
I ended up wandering around outside around town. It was eleven in the morning, and the streets seemed mostly abandoned. I guess most people are at work. Or if they didn't have to get up for work, they probably just stayed in. Or left town for the day, like I've been doing. I imagined I wasn't the only one desperate to get out of here.
I ended up at Tweek's coffee again, and stood outside for a few minutes, just waiting. I didn't know what I was waiting for. I also didn't know why I came here. I'd already had coffee, and I really didn't want to stress Tweek out any more than he already inevitably was.
But the desire for more coffee, and to just do something other than wander, became more significant than the desire to leave Tweek alone, so I walked in.
Luckily, Tweek looked over, so I didn't have to startle him by speaking this time.
"Hey, Tweek," I said, walking up to the counter.
"Hi, Stan," he replied, managing a smile. He seemed to be doing okay today, I thought. Not as jittery.
"Could I get a coffee with room for cream?" I asked.
He nodded and grabbed a cup, filling it up. "How have you been doing? Being back, I mean."
I shrugged. "I really haven't been staying in town if I can help it. Looking for work elsewhere at the moment. How have you been? Being back so much?"
He sighed. "Some days are better than others. Here's your coffee."
I thanked him, put cream and sugar in, and left.
As I walked and drank, I thought about what he said. Some days are better than others for him, clearly, since he was practically having a panic attack that first day and he seemed relatively calm today. But I'm not sure that's true for me. It seems to be a steady not-as-good-as-it-could-be for me, every day. I don't have terrible days, but I don't have good days. It's all just a few degrees below average.
I froze, seeing where I had walked. I was standing directly in front of the school. South Park High. The windows were boarded up, for the most part, though some were just broken. Illegible graffiti was scattered along the sides. It was so quiet, so empty. I could practically hear the echoes of laughter and voices in my ears.
All I could think was that if Kenny could do it, then so could I.
I walked to one of the broken windows and climbed inside. The window went into the main downstairs hallway. I looked around and walked slowly, staring at the lockers with the chipped red paint and the empty classrooms. There were dead leaves that had gathered in piles in corners, presumably from the wind and the unblocked windows. I tried to keep my footsteps quiet, stepping as lightly as possible, but they still echoed.
When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I stopped. The looked uninviting, cold, dark. I wasn't sure I'd be able to get up them without slipping, or without collapsing, or without being swallowed by them. But if Kenny can do it, then so can I. I took a deep breath and walked up as steadily as I could. My hands we shaking, but I didn't want to touch the railing. I didn't want to touch anything. I thought it might make it all feel more real.
When I got to the top of the stairs, the hallway looked like it would go on forever. I secretly hoped it would. I knew where I was going, which room I was going to. But my hands shook, and my heart raced, and I didn't want to get there, I just didn't.
The door was open. And as I stared into it, my heart got faster and so did my breathing. I clenched my fists, my throat felt like it was closing up, my eyes burned. I could barely breathe, I could barely see or hear. The hall felt like it was set on fire because of how hot I was getting, but the air around my felt freezing.
I ran. I ran until I ended up panting outside a liquor store. I tried to convince myself it was the caffeine. Shouldn't have had that last cup of coffee, must've made my heart rate too high. I bought a pack of cigarettes from the store- might as well, I was already there- and walked to Stark's Pond.
The bench wasn't empty. Kenny was already there.
I sat next to him and lit the first cigarette from my pack.
"I didn't know you smoked," he said with a grin and a raised eyebrow.
"I don't," I replied. "Want one?"
"Don't mind if I do," he said, pulling one from my pack.
"So the school looks the same."
"You went?"
I nodded, taking a drag of my cigarette. "I was kind of hoping it would look different. Feel different."
"Yeah, me too."
"No such luck."
