Chapter Four: Important Individuals.

I hate to admit it but my father absolutely hated my choice. At one point he stopped talking to me and refused to accept my existence. He tried to get my mother and younger sister to follow suit but they had a bit more respect than he did.

I notice I've yet to mention my younger sister and perhaps this would be a great time to do so. Ruby Tucker was born when I was four and we look nothing alike. She took the appearance of our father with matching strawberry blonde hair and silver blue eyes. She had a small turned up nose and her cheeks always had a small rose tint. Since the age of around five, Ruby was always the tallest of her class, which was a trait she got from her father and one she always cursed. We never had the best relationship, but it was better that way.

I only say this because… I don't want to be a negative influence on her. I don't want Ruby to rebel against society and have the whole town treat her the way I was. I thought the less relationship we had the smaller the possibility of Ruby knowing exactly what was going on with me. The struggle I had of becoming myself I needed to discover on my own and I was already pushing enough of it onto Tweek. I didn't need my younger sister to be apart of it either.

When Ruby was first born, I immediately envied her. It was mainly because she looked like the man who was our father. Whereas I had no similarities. The reason behind this was that Thomas Tucker wasn't my biological father. Since being born, my actual father had never been a part of my life; he bailed out on my mother and I. From the small things I've heard, he was a complete no life who loved drugs more than anything. But most importantly he was Peruvian, which meant I was half the ethnicity. I was a lighter shade of brown than most but dark enough that it could be noticed when I was standing next to a crowd of Caucasians. Since I never knew my real father, I had no problem accepting Thomas to replace him and from what I could gather he felt the same. At least - until finding out about my true gender.

In my opinion, it was easier for him to disown me. Having us not be related by blood meant I really didn't need to be an importance in his life. So I guess thirteen years meant nothing to him.

When I returned home after staying with Tweek, Thomas had come home from a long day at work just a few hours ago and was now sitting in a recliner chair in the living room. The back of the chair was facing the doorway to the front door and when I came walking in, he asked who the hell I was. Mom and Ruby were out at the grocery store buying food for dinner (I later came to find out) which meant I was home alone with him.

As I walked to the living room from the front hallway, my heartbeat raced and sweat was quickly building up on my back. My father didn't witness what I was wearing when I first left for school because he had already left for work. But I knew the outcome wasn't going to be a good one - thinking back to when I was declined in the fourth grade.

"It's just me." I said once I was in his view point.

In his left hand was the television remote and the other held a can for some off-brand beer. I came to the conclusion that he'd been drinking for a while now and things were not about to be sunshine and joy.

As soon as a commercial began showing on the television was when he finally took a first glance at me. His silver blue eyes were half-opened for a second then bulged out at the sight of the tights covering my legs.

Still to this day I can't remember how exactly it happened, but I sure as hell know that within seconds I was knocked down to the ground with my father standing over me.

"The fuck you wearin'?"

I had my breath taken right out of me and I was still trying to catch it as he nudged me with the tip of his foot. When I still wasn't saying anything, my father bent over to grab me by the suspenders I wore and brought me to my feet.

His breath reeked of alcohol as it blew into my nostrils. "You gon' say somethin'?"

I couldn't or... more like I was afraid to. I knew that if I tried to explain to him why I was dressed the way I was, he wouldn't understand a word I was getting at. So instead I just lowered my eyes to where eye contact didn't pertain. This seemed to piss him off even more because in a short moment, my back slammed against the wall behind me. Pain shot down my spine. I was forced once more to look in the direction of my father's face

"You think you can go round dressin' like a faggot? I don't like that shit one bit, Craig and I thought I told you damned well before, no son of mine was gon' be a fag."

Each time he said That Word a blade stabbed me in the chest. Tears wanted to escape from my eyes but I knew better than to cry in front of my father.

"You're nothing but a damned disappointment."

I watched as the hand that wasn't holding me against the wall came forward, not hesitantly a bit as it came back down full speed to slap me hard in the cheek. the strike stung. A sensation covering the skin of that section. Never before has my father laid his hands on me unless it was a pat on the head or on the shoulder. Sort of like a 'good job' statement. Time seemed to slow down after it happened and a few seconds felt more like minutes. My brown eyes went up to look Thomas in the face but they immediately lowered back down as I noticed his hand go up once more.

This time his hand balled up as it grabbed my bangs, pulling them upward to force my head back with it. Being shorter than my father meant I had quite a ways that my head had to be bent back in order for me to look at him which was what he was trying to do. Forcing me to stare him in the silver-blue of his irises. Tears were now building up in my eyes and there was no way I could stop them now. As small slivers ran down my face, Thomas only grew angrier.

"Goddamn it, just look at you. Fuckin' pathetic." He leaned down a bit to get closer to my face. "Now lissen to me. If I catch you dressin' like a damn pansy again so help me Craig, I'm gon' ki-"

The front door opened swiftly interrupting him. My little sister came running through holding a plastic bag full of goods. Thomas and I just froze; not at all moving an inch. When Ruby caught sight of the way her father was gripping me, she ran back out the house calling for mom.

When she came back, Ruby was holding mom's hand and pulling her behind. My mother was always a beautiful women in my eyes. She had super blonde hair which came down a little past her shoulders and deep blue eyes the colour of the ocean. If you looked real close into them you could sometimes see specs of a light violet. She was taller than me but only by a few inches and she was very petite, especially in the bust. As soon as Thomas saw his wife walk in with Ruby, I was let go by the bangs… but it was already too late.

"Thomas what the hell are you doing?!"

"Laura, just look at the shit your son is wearin'."

I slid down the wall until in a sitting position. Curling up on myself and setting my head on my knees. Someone began to approach me and it turned out to be my sister.

Like I mentioned before Ruby and I never had a close relationship but that didn't mean she doesn't care about me. I didn't lift my head to look up at her, I didn't want to. But I sensed Ruby crouched down to get to my level and I felt a hand touch the top of my head.

"You're okay, Craig. I have no idea what happened but it's over now. Guess you should be glad Mom and I came home when we did."

It was true. If they hadn't returned home when they did, I could have ended up worse. Both my parents were still arguing. My mother's voice rising louder than my father's. Not very often did they fight but when they did, Laura's tempting always showed. She usually got hot within seconds and once she did she never backed down until she won the argument. Which was probably how this one was going to play out.

Ruby was still rubbing my head during it all and refused to leave her spot. I wanted to get out of there as quickly as I could. I wanted to run upstairs to my room, locking the door and stay in there for the rest of the night. Yet… I couldn't move an inch. So instead I stayed in my balled up position with my sister right beside me. My parents wouldn't die down for another hour but not once did they bring me back into it. Laura insisted I had enough bullshit for the night and I could only agree.

My second day of eighth grade wasn't any better than the first and in fact it may have been worse. I've already mentioned physical violence I received in the ninth grade and a small bit my father gave to me, but the first time it really took effect was on my second day.

One kid I forgot to introduce goes by the name of Eric Cartman. He's probably the meanest individual I've met. Always making rude remarks about everyone and everything. For one point in his life, he hung out with Stan Marsh (adding yet another person to his group) but sometime during the beginning of junior high Stan and the rest of them decided they didn't want to be friends with Eric anymore.

To add effect of being mean, he looked mean. Everytime I saw Eric he always had a nasty look on his face. He was overweight for his height and constantly wore a red hoodie which from time-to-time would be dirty with food stains. When walking through the hallways of school, often Eric would be the person pushing and knocking over others so they'd get out of his way. Rude words and slanders would spill from his lips, but he didn't give a shit if he hurt anyone's feelings.

I was walking through the halls while fourth period was going on. I had asked the teacher for a pass to the restroom but I was pretty much skipping. My fourth period class was one I didn't exactly need, an art class, and in all honestly I was no artist. Having brought no materials to the class meant it was easier to skip and hang wherever I wanted. But first - I really did need to use the restroom.

I decided upon using the restroom that was located in the back of the school near the gym. This was the one that students rarely used because most of the time only the kids that were in P.E during the time used them. Later in life I began to refuse to use public restrooms if a unisex one wasn't an option. I didn't need to feel the uncomfortableness I would receive if I went into either one. But during this time, I still used the boys'.

I walked into the restroom and chose to use a stall instead of the urinal. As I went to decide which I stall I wanted to enter, I found out I wasn't alone. Somebody else was already in there. Most of the time if that were the case, I would exit right away, but I really needed to piss and I didn't have time to go across the school to find another restroom.

"Ayy, get out, I'm takin' a shit in here!"

The voice unmistakingly belonged to Eric Cartman and I cringed at the sound of it. Ignoring his statement I continued to make my way to a stall. Pulling down the jeans I wore and quickly going pee, I didn't even flush after I was finished. I wanted to get out as fast as I could. But I stopped when Eric started to speak again.

"Craig, that's you isn't it? Jesus, I can tell just by those pansy-ass boots you're wearing. What the hell are you thinking by the way? Dressing like a girl… you're hilarious you know that? I always viewed you as being this tough ass punk but I guess you're just a fucking queer." I heard him laughing loudly. I wanted to run like hell, forget about washing my hands (which would be disgusting) and just get away from him. As I turned toward the exit, the toilet flushed and the stall opened to reveal none other than Eric.

He was dressed in his usual jacket with the zipper undone to show a shirt advertising some shoe brand. His light brown eyes gleamed with deviance as he walked his way over to where I was by the sinks.

Nausea was overcoming my senses. I knew something bad was about to happen… I just couldn't tell what.

"If you tell anyone that I did this to you, more of it will come, Tucker. I wouldn't fuck with me." Eric was standing over me as my body lied on the ground, my stomach face down. "I don't wanna see a little cock-sucker like yourself crossing my path again. Makes me sick to my stomach just looking at you. You deserve worst honestly. I just went easy on you."

And he left. I listened to the sound of his sneakers squeaking against the tile as he walked away. I continued to lie on the grimy floor. Clutching the part of my stomach where I was punched numerous times. No doubt a bruise would form, a nasty one at that. Other than that, hardly any damage would show, but I sure as hell would be in some pain for the next couple of days.

Finally deciding to leave, I got up and started walking out towards the door that was just beyond the school's gym. It lead to the track and field and I thought about hanging out there until my lunch period which was right after fifth. Back in the sixth grade I discovered you could easily leave the school building by going out these doors and if you left a slip on paper, one that was thick enough, in the latch of the door, it gave access to getting back inside without being locked out. Tweek and I did this so many times throughout the years at junior years. Although in the eighth grade I often found myself doing it alone due to us not having as many classes together and also because I normally left when something bad happened to myself.

Like mentioned when the incident of the white blouse, I didn't tell Tweek about this one. I didn't need him worrying about me and I definitely didn't need him talking to a counselor or someone about it. Actually… I don't think I've ever mentioned this incident to anyone. Being the first it was more difficult to speak about.

Luckily I didn't get rid of the pass my fourth period teacher gave me and I was able to fold it up real small and slid it into the latch of the door. The air outside was pretty warm, with it still being summer and all. I gripped the zipper on the jacket I was wearing, took it off and I tied it around my waist. I was never the best at dressing for the weather. For this case, I was wearing a grey long sleeve v- neck underneath my jacket and black jeans. After the event that occurred the night before, I was trying to not dress in a way that would upset my father and I figured these weren't offensive.(Especially since this was the shit I wore before then.)

Whenever Tweek and I skipped class, our favourite place to chill was underneath the bleachers. It gave enough privacy that nobody bothered you and it was also where the kids hung out when they weren't participating in the P.E activities assigned outdoors. So whenever someone saw another hanging down there, they usually ignored them. Which always worked in our favour.

A class wasn't outside at the moment so I was all alone. Not having a cell phone during this time in my life, it was difficult to know what time was and even more difficult to know when a period was over. Most of the time, I came out when another class was so it was easy to tell when to go back in. I only hoped one would come out for fifth period.

"Hey wake up." Something nudged me in my side. I rolled over to be on my back instead of my stomach. I wasn't sleeping, I was just resting my eyes for a bit. When I opened them, a familiar figure was standing over me.

"Everyone is going inside and if I remembered correctly, you had the same lunch period I did. Wouldn't wanna miss that, would 'ya?"

"I wasn't sleeping, Kenny." I exclaimed.

"Keep telling yourself that."

And with that, Kenny left. I watched as he began walking towards the door with my slip of paper still stuck in it. He waited holding it open for me which I took as my cue to get up. My body ached as I got to my feet. I'd been laying in the same position longer than I expected.

When I finally reached the door and entered along-side the blonde, we continued to walk together but he didn't say another word to me. The silence was provoking. The need to say something - anything - rode on the tip of my tongue even though I had no idea what I wanted to say. It didn't seem to bother Kenny any. I noticed as he walked beside me, he seemed almost oblivious to the lack of speaking. The fact that I never spoke to Kenny before hand had a lot to do with it. He mainly stuck to his group consisting of Stan Marsh and he liked to keep it that way.

Rumours were always flying about Kenny McCormick. Since the young age of at least eight, Kenny's language was very provocative and obscene. He knew more about sex before any of the others had, and there was clearly a reason for it. Kenny was someone who had a voice and liked to use it whenever he wanted. (Which at this time was kind of ironic because he wasn't speaking a word.) Most of the time during classes, you could the blonde chatting to whoever he was near and it was practically about anything. Although mainly about sex.

In the sixth grade I remember the kids buzzing around about how a certain blonde fucked an eighth grader and it all went downhill from there. Eventually the rumours would only become more obscene than the last and the thing that was the cherry on top was Kenny never stated if they were true or not. I think it was because he didn't care. He knew the truth and that's all that mattered. I wish I had that kind of attitude sometimes. That I paid no attention to what the others said about me and I left the whole issue alone. My problem was that I wanted people to get it right. I wanted them to know exactly what I was going for and not mistake it for something else. Which most of the time was the case. If I were like how Kenny is, then I would have the worst things said about me and no one to stop the talk. It was a blessing and a curse to want to be like him. I discovered that long ago.

By the time we reached the lunch room, I immediately noticed Tweek in our usual spot. I made a beeline for the table, dodging the multiple kids who were holding trays in their hands. Tweek wasn't eating when I got close enough to see him fully. He had a pen in his hand and was writing away on a piece of paper. I asked what he was doing and the blonde twitched, looking up from the paper at me with his hazel eyes wide.

"Oh! C.. hey. I'm just writing something. No big deal."

He folded the paper into fourths then bent over to put it in the bag he had lying on the ground beside him. Tweek had the tendency to be secretive about some of the things he was doing. I never took it to heart. I've known him long enough to know how he reacts to others, and sharing personal information was something he had a hard time doing.

I sat down in my seat so I could watch students interact among each other. I watched as Bebe Stevens paid most of her attention to Clyde instead of her best friend who was without her boyfriend that day. The blonde who I walked into lunch with was sitting by himself a few tables away from where Bebe sat, and I could only wonder why. Kenny pretty much interacted with everyone. Goes back to when I said how he talks about practically anything to anyone. He wasn't eating much, in fact, it looked as though he was eating from a packed lunch but what made me question that was I didn't notice one in his hand when we were together. It struck me as odd all around.

"I skipped fourth and fifth today." I exclaimed turning towards Tweek.

Disappointment spread over his face. "Yeah, and why was that?"

I shrugged. I honestly didn't have a good enough reason as to why I skipped other than that I wanted to. I could hear him sigh, and I turned my attention back to the lunchroom.

My cousin Red had this lunch period as well. She sat with a bunch of girls I remembered from grade school. A few of them were in my classes, actually a lot of them were. She was laughing about something Patty Nelson said. Her deep red hair flung back and her face scrunched up. I loved the way her nose turned upwards, the way only one eye closed. Red was a very pretty girl, not as pretty as, let's say, Bebe, but my cousin definitely had some striking features.

She gained the nickname Red because of the colour of her hair. It was such a deep hue I'd never seen anything like it before.. It always reminded me of a maraschino cherry. (Which while I'm thinking of it, I thought Cherry would have been a more appropriate nickname for her, but our family wasn't very original.) It was always kept at a long length - specifically her mid-back - and it was keep in good condition. Red's eyes, she no doubt got from her father's side of the family. He was related to Thomas and all three of them had the same silver-blue eyes. Underneath her left eye, the one she closed whenever she laughed, was a mole that was pretty noticeable. I liked to say it was her best feature. Plenty would argue it was her hair but I liked to look beyond that.

The girl she was conversing with was Patty Nelson. Once in the third grade, Eric had a huge crush her but it never went anywhere. It died down a few days after. Patty was pretty bland. I hardly knew a thing about her. And even her looks were bland. Her jet, black hair she kept the same length for the whole time I've known her. Cut right at her chin. Every once in a while, she'd place a cute bow atop her head but that was about as much as accessories went. Patty's eyes were about the same colour as mine only not as dark. She ranked in at about 4'11 and all I've ever seen her dress in are skirts with plain tee shirts. I couldn't say I liked Patty nor did I dislike her. I remember speaking to her once when I was over at my cousins house and she just so happened to be there as well.

This was some time during the summer between sixth and seventh grade. I went over to Red's house because I wanted to help her mother make a present for mine. It was a simple scrapbook we were creating nothing special. (In fact, my mother ended up ditching it in the garbage later in the year.) I had to use the restroom which was located past Red's room and on my way there, I ran into Patty. She bumped her shoulder against mine as I fit through the doorway. Patty apologized, continued to walk then I heard her call out a ways down the hall. When I turned back I saw she stopped to face me, a confused look plastered on her face.

"You and Red are related?" She asked.

"Something like that."

"Y'guys look nothing alike…"

I frowned at the statement. There were plenty of relatives that didn't look similar. "I don't look like anyone in my family here."

Patty began to walk back towards the restroom with a small bounce in her step. "Can't be true."

"But it is."

"Yeah? And why's that?"

"I take after my father."

"Then you obviously look like someone, Craig."

"And yet, I stated I look like none of my family here. If you had listened closely you would have noticed that."

Patty huffed loudly. "Whatever." She began to head back to Red's bedroom. The shuffling of her feet among the carpet echoed throughout the hallway. I simply shrugged off the noirette then went back to my main intention. Patty wouldn't show up again in my life. All together she's a pretty unimportant person… except towards Red.

When I paid my attention back to Tweek, he had gone back to writing whatever was working on. He didn't seem to notice I was watching him. He was too engrossed with it so I took the chance of giving a small glance at his paper. Tweek's handwriting was one that always bothered me. Each letter went up and down in a word and it was in such a large print that took up a lot of a line. It looked like scribbles to me but I was able to pick up a few words even though they didn't make much sense out of context. From what I could gather, it was a letter… to whom, was another mystery I was curious about.

"You're staring at me… how come you came in with Kenny McCormick today?" Tweek looked up. Although, his gaze avoided mine.

"Let me know it was time to go in."

"Well that was nice of him."

I nodded. "Yeah." Glancing back at the lone blonde, it struck curiosity once more. "Hey, has he always sat alone at lunch?"

Tweek turned his attention to the blonde who was no longer eating at this point. "Not sure. I don't pay much attention to him, and I thought you didn't either."

That bothered me. He was right. I never cared for Kenny before so why was I now?

"I don't. Sorry."

"No need to apologize."

Humming to myself, I leaned back in my chair. Crossing my arms over my chest and not saying a word for the rest of the lunch period.

Kenny wouldn't appear in my life again until ninth grade when he helped me out the locker room. After that he would show up more and more. I'm not sure why he decided to become a part of my life but it wouldn't be for a few more years where we really got things going.