The realm of Garrison's classroom was surprisingly different than anywhere else in the whole of South Park High. While the rest was white washed walls, white boards, in a white out of blasé nonparticulars, Garrison's was fantastically opposed. The juxtaposition was striking, especially when entering from the hall after a lengthy stay within the confines of said stale environment. The desk set up in the front was made of dark wood and covered in a mess of papers; none geared towards the education of minors. The walls were coated in posters detailing school events from five years ago. Over some of them were reports written to an excellent caliber, although their haphazard arrangement made it strikingly obvious that the teacher had not put them up. The back wall was a black out of book shelves stuffed full of reading material that included a couple covers banned from all public schools. To the sides, there were smaller shelving units covered in textbooks and a littering array of discarded drink cups, water bottles, and trash. The lighting had a dim appeal, as if drawing the students in with a casual vibe. Perhaps adding to such an appeal, but perhaps subtracting, was the old fashioned green chalkboard up against the wall behind the teacher's desk. The board had the falling and rising tempo of streaks cutting across it. The words written were smudged, however, and the message lost to the hands of time.
The desks of this room were set up in semi neat rows, seven to the side and each four back. These were the standard issue, but there was nothing standard about them. Within rules concerning their care in place, the classes that shuffled through had lay claim to them. Some were almost wholly colored out in black marker. Others were carved up in the hearted initials of couples, since and now. Others still had stickers or bumper stickers plastered over them. One even had a noticeable burn mark pressed into the wooden top in the form of angel wings.
Over to these desks, the four drifted. The room was full of students forced into coming on that day, much like them. These students were other freshmen, but not of their close knit friends. Most hailed from other streets in South Park. People who hadn't been in their class throughout school. Thus, they were ignored as the four tossed down book bags and grabbed up the four desks that had been theirs since day one, sixth period, one hundred and seventy nine days ago. As it was, those four desks were the only ones without an outsider sitting in them. They were, after all, marked as belonging to them. One had a gold marker Star of David, another the burned in angel wings, the third a fully colored four leaf clover, and the last a blood red swastika.
These desks were turned so that they formed a 'circle'. Stan and Cartman pushed the tops of theirs together while Kyle and Kenny shoved the tops of theirs up to the sides. Thus, they sat in a clockwise fashion starting with Cartman, going to Kyle, to Stan, and ending with Kenny. As such, Kyle started to unzip his bag and fish through the novels inside to locate the deck of cards. Around them, students were staring in wide eyed horror mixed with shock. They looked quite stunned, even to the point of awe. Seeing how none of these people had ever shared a classroom with the four, though, that was to be expected.
The four were, after all, infamous.
Infamous not for being themselves, despite the fact that as individuals they had gathered a substantial amount of infamy. Rather, infamous as a whole. 'The freaky four' was the title commonly attributed to them in the sliding whispers of hallway and bathroom gossip. 'The freaky four' who had set the middle school gym ablaze on a five dollar dare that said they so wouldn't. 'The freaky four' who had gotten up on stage at the eighth grade talent show and performed an encore gathering rendition of Raging Pussies' leading single 'Eiffel Tower'; Cartman and Kenny as the leads, of course. 'The freaky four' who had slammed a baseball bat through a store window when the manager refused to open up to sell them white cherry slushies as four in the morning on a Sunday when they were supposed to be in bed, and, yeah, did you hear, they robbed the place blind and bolted before the cops could show up, you sure, yeah, heard it just the other day from a friend of a friend. 'The freaky four' who had taken Mickey Frank by the ankles and dragged him behind the community center and beaten him to a bloody pulp for staring too long and too hard at them for whatever reason they had cooked up. 'The freaky four' who disappeared every now and then and were found three days later walking up the dirt road from Stark's Pond in a blank stare and said 'fuck you' when you asked what they were doing. 'The freaky four' who shared a glance and got real quiet whenever they were asked how the family was.
'The freaky four' that knew everything about everyone but no one knew nothing about them. Those 'freaky four'.
The stares continued long after Kyle had located the deck of cards. As he began shuffling them, there was a rustling of papers from the front of the classroom. Whereas the whole of the outsiders grew still, the four merely looked around for drinks to nick or adjust their seats accordingly. Then, over their heads came a loud, nearly Southern voice. It addressed them from the wooden desk centered at the front of the room, yet was loud enough to bear the illusion of being directly above and behind them.
" Jus' what the fuck do you four retards think you're doin' in my classroom?" Garrison barked from the desk. The other students exchanged a flurry of looks as they all physically removed themselves from the argument; leaning away or inching their desks to the side.
" Playing cards," Kyle calmly and evenly said without a touch of emotion to his voice. Cartman didn't even look up from where he was idly staring. He continued to watch the Jew shuffle the cards expertly. Kenny tugged on his hood and flashed their glaring teacher a sly smile out of the corner of his jacket. Stan, of course, remained as dead faced as he ever was.
" Don't you fuckards have somewhere else to be?" Garrison hissed, tilting down wire rim glasses. Kyle's deep, emerald eyes slipped on over to look at the glare being cast. There was a moment when he appeared to be contemplating an answer befitting a teacher with as such 'prestige' as this one. Rather, he cast a smile about as sharp as a razor and as kind as one.
" No," he replied in the same tone as before. Beside him, Cartman smiled warmly as he glanced over at the perilously empty sapphire eyes of the poor boy. Kenny blinked, smiling a smile that never reached those orbs. They shared a look that went unnoticed as Stan suddenly blinked and came to life.
" Can we stay if we're quiet?" the activist asked, his body turning around to face Garrison. The suggestion seemed to hover in the air as two grey eyes narrowed in a distrusting sort of way. Then a magazine was shook open and Garrison turned a page.
" If you retards can keep yer mouths shut, you can. But, I'm warning you," their teacher threatened, wagging a finger in their general direction, " I ain't puttin' up with this shit today. I ain't gonna hesitate to toss you freaks out,"
" Got it," Stan muttered, turning back to face the rest of the four. Kyle shuffled the deck one last time. Then, he started to deal the cards with a simple flick of his wrist. He didn't need to count out loud, nor double check the cards. Within seconds, he had dealt out five cards to each of them, correctly. Tapping the remaining cards together, he placed the deck on Stan's desk.
And thus, the freaky four were left to their own devices.
" What're we playin'? Poker?" Kenny questioned, picking up his cards and looking at the hand. Kyle frowned a tiny bit as he shook his head hard enough to rock his curls.
" No. I don't wanna play poker," he muttered, folding his cards close to his lips to disguise the smile that washed over his lips. This smile moved through his eyes, however, as Cartman absentmindedly reached over to fix some of the fall away curls that blocked the striking green of his eyes from being seen. As soon as that hand was removed, he lowered his cards, for his face was cold and empty once more, " We don't really have anything to bet,"
" So? Why don't we bet. . . . uhhh. . . I'unno. . Gay stuff?" Kenny implored with a scrunch of his nose and aimless waving of his hands. His cards moved too fast to be seen, although all of the other three did their best to spy numbers.
" Gay stuff?" Kyle said, repeating the phrase with a distinct hint of sarcasm. Kenny wasn't put off at all, if he even noticed.
" Yeah, like blowjobs an' shit," the pervert clarified with a grin much like a famous purple stripped cat. Cartman gave him a look while both Kyle and Stan exchanged a stare of disbelief at his brash suggestion. Kenny, of course, giggled at their faces, his cards touching his lips as he did.
" I don't want a blowjob from any of you guys," the Nazi told them with firm resolution behind every word. Kenny pouted in the only way that they'd ever seen him pout before: mutely with an adorable little lip tremble that was really suppressed laughter or rage, depending on the moment. This moment, it was laughter, and the smile that formed immediately thereafter confirmed that.
" I'd rather not," Kyle said flatly, examining his cards. Stan let out a low sigh as he rearranged his cards. Giving a shrug, the activist placed his cards on the table without letting go of the edges.
" So, what are we playing?"
" I don't know. Let's play something everybody knows," Kyle mumbled towards his best friend's question. Two blue eyes rolled up into blond hair and back down with a noticeable amount of pause.
" Like what? Go fish?" the poor boy joked, bouncing slightly in his seat. Cartman snickered at the idea, but Kyle actually looked mildly offended. His voice certainly was when he sneered out his response to the two of them.
" Yeah. What's wrong with Go fish?"
" Uh, it's a kid's game," Cartman reminded him coldly, leaning back in his chair. He rested one elbow on the back of it and began to lazily fan himself with the cards. Not one of them mentioned how the desk groaned under the shift of his girth nor how tight the fit was for his massively arched belly. It was something the Jew eyed, though, before he quickly went back to playing with his five cards. The light tinge to his pale cheeks went under the radar as the red of his hair hid it nicely.
" I like go fish," Stan snapped, wholly redirecting the attention towards their card game. Those sugary honey eyes rolled with that mark of precision that was renown for the teenager. The same precision of mocking could be heard in his voice when he next spoke.
" You would,"
" Shut up, fat ass," Kyle cut in with a curt snap. The rose to his cheeks had been extinguished by the ice of his biting words. Jabbing a finger at that fat face, he narrowed his eyes. The smallest flicker of burning white heat expanded within his stomach, " You're the most juvenile of us all,"
" Bite me. I am not," he snarled, turning his eyes down to look at the iced emeralds looking right back of him. Cartman gave Kyle an inviting half smile as if asking how long he would have to wait this time for the coup d'e-tat of his control in their conversation. A jolt of fire entered the Jew's bloodstream.
" Jesus Christ, not again. . ." Stan interrupted before the blaze could enrage the blood into a roaring inferno. Kyle frowned while Cartman let out a frustrated sigh and gave the opposing wall a dirty expression of sheer agitation. This time, however, the two felt the need to address the intrusion to their fiery tango meant for only two.
" What's with you, Stan? We always fight," the Nazi remarked with a idle gesture between him and the Jew. Kyle nodded in agreement as he chewed on his lower lip.
" I know," Stan said with a pause as he squeezed the bridge of his nose. Kenny didn't say anything, but he did tap his dirt coated shoe on top of the activist's sneaker, " It's just too early,"
" Oh, jus' get that stick outta yer ass an' you'll be fine," Cartman's voice went dead flat as he said it. The rolling emotions behind the words were almost too bitter to hear, for they screamed in volumes of wicked moonlight topics. The lost of emotion to the voice, though, was not the worse. That was the darkness that erased the feeling within those honey eyes. Sugar fell into death so quickly that the other three didn't dare address the teasingly cold comment made.
" Yeah, really, Stanley. We fight like this every morning," Kyle took it upon himself to help them all avoid a fight that would turn into something not even he could control. Casually, he looked over at Cartman, to which end he was granted a mildly expression look in return.
" Don't call me Stanley, Kyle," Stan growled with a touch of true anger to a voice that otherwise continued to be blank. The Jew's black look of hate was unmarked, and unchecked, as it came out without his control.
" I'll call you whatever the hell I want to," he barked, again with checking his anger. The restrained fire threatened to burst through in a screaming fit of incoherent terms of 'endearment'. Instead, he swallowed dryly and choked back the bubbling rage with tightly pursed lips. Stan, on the other hand, stared at him in gaped emptiness, as though attempting to figure out how he'd gotten his best friend so angry, so quickly.
" That's right, Kahl. Tell your man what's what," Cartman teased in a playfully innocent voice. His eyes had returned to their tasty lightness.
" His man?" the activist repeated in a withdrawn voice. He clearly didn't feel the need to probe further into his millisecond long argument with Kyle; if it had even been such a thing. His aquamarine eyes rested on Cartman as the much heavier boy waved his cards in the air in a fluttering motion.
" Yeah. I figure you're the one that takes it up the ass since you're always so uptight in the mornin'," he laughed as he said it, holding the cards in front of his face in mocking modesty. Stan's face tensed while Kyle gave the Nazi a bored, but annoyed look. Kenny, however, giggled shrilly in a strangled manner before his dirty face went slack and blank behind his blond hair. Cartman leaned forward, chuckling under his breath, and spoke into his fanned out cards like a geisha speaking to a client through a fan of feathers, " Do it to ya too hard?"
" Fuck you. We're not gay," Stan retorted venomously, his eyes narrowing slightly around the edges. Cartman snickered and pushed himself back into his previous position. He somberly nodded his head, tapping his cards on arch of his heavy belly.
" Right. Right. You're 'homosexual'," he rephrased, grinning a grin so vile, it sent shivers down the Jew's spine straight into his toes. Stan, however, flared up with obvious anger on his face. Cartman continued to smile at him, unmoved by the explosion of rage within the apathetic activist.
" Kyle!" Stan snapped, jerking his head in the direction of his best friend. He need not state the purpose of said exclamation. Kyle automatically jumped into the fight with a slam of his fist down on the desk. The cards held in his other hand tilted in as his grip tightened.
" Knock it off, fat ass!" he spat out harshly, eyes glowing with the anger renown of him. The smile on Cartman's face never faltered, not even once, " You know we're not dating!"
" I know you'd like to be," the Nazi replied in a truly commendable tone. He couldn't have sounded nicer about it. Despite his voice, his topaz eyes were livid with a hungry fury that danced in glinting motions. Kyle gritted his teeth, hard, and nearly bent his cards in half in the burst of embers that washed through his flushed flesh.
" Ugh," Stan groaned out, resting his forehead on the curve of his arm. Whether he was doing so because of what Cartman was saying, or because he had unknowingly started the very fight he'd been trying to avoid, though, was debatable. Either way, Kyle pointed a finger at the eyes that invoked such an impassioned reaction from him.
" That is not true!"
" Whatevah. Kinny an' I both know it's true. Right, Kinny?" he looked down at where the petite blond was reading and rereading his card numbers. Kenny blinked as if confused as to who these three people were and where he was and just what he was doing there. Then, he removed his stare and returned it to the black and red in front of him without a single trickle of emotion.
" No,"
" What?" Cartman questioned with a touch a confusion. The underlying feeling to the word, though, was unmistakably agitation at having to ask the question in the first place.
" They ain't datin'," the poor boy clarified unnecessarily. Nonchalantly, he shrugged and drummed his fingers on the desk. Then, he motioned in between Stan and Kyle with a budding smile of written taunt, " Stan could never afford Kyle,"
" What the hell is that supposed to mean?" the Jew demanded, tearing his watchful eyes away from Cartman and directing their heavy gaze at Kenny. He was presented with a devious, little smile that melted over his hot skin like butter. A cold splash threatened to quench the fires within when he was face to face with the frozen sapphires that hurt to stare into.
" It's means ya an expensive piece of ass. That's what it means," Kenny explained with a soft giggled tacked on the end. A flare went up and through Kyle's very soul as he exploded in a burst of hysteria that punctured every word that rolled off his cutting tongue. He couldn't believe he was yelling at Kenny, but he couldn't stop himself. He smashed his hands onto the desk and fastened a hard glare on that angelic face.
" I am not an expensive piece of ass! I'm not even a piece of ass!"
" Whatevah," Cartman interjected, waving his hand of cards towards the micro expression of outrage on the activist's face. Doing so, however, prevented a furious fight from breaking out, even if his intention was no better, " I still say they're bangin' it,"
" That's it. I'm goin' to class," Stan snatched his bag off the ground with a jerk. As he went to get to his feet, Cartman smacked Kenny in the arm with a pop and a meaningful expression. Kenny grabbed hold of the activist's shirt. When he did, however, he did so at the same time as Kyle. Sapphire and emerald met for a brief stare that was unreadable.
" Stan, don't go," Kyle pleaded without ever sounding desperate. He looked at the empty hate in those light eyes. Stan, though, shook his head and made a clear stopping motion with his free hand.
" No way. I'd rather listen to the science teacher bitch," he stated in a rather stern voice for someone of his age. Kyle frowned that deep frown that clearly said he was not amused with the turn of events. Stan's continual exposure to the expression over the years meant it had no effect on him whatsoever. Thus, Kyle was forced to verbalize his frustration.
" Oh, don't! You're being a baby!"
" Fag," Cartman muttered vaguely, rolling his eyes in his usual manner of speaking; so to speak. Stan awarded the remark with a disgusted look of resolute hatred the color of water with the feel of fire.
" Fuck you, Cartman!" he shouted, raising his voice to a volume that was barely loud for most people. Running off the tongue of the activist, it was strong and bitter enough to strike a cord within the group. Before the Nazi or the Jew could react, though, Kenny weakly tugged on Stan's shirt. The shirt barely moved, although Stan still turned his softening eyes to the poor boy's face. Kenny, on the other hand, looked across the desks to where the red head was.
" Leggo, Kyle," Kenny whined without ever reaching the whining level; a talent only he had ever mastered. Kyle's face was overtaken by bewilderment. He couldn't stop himself. He just spat out the first thing that came to mind within the sudden change of emotion.
" What?"
" I said leggo," the blond repeated, making a terribly innocent face of distaste. Kyle cast a glance over at the unhelpful grin of Cartman, then returned to facing the pretty blue eyes of the other.
" Let go of what?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. His curls fell in waves into his face, eliminating the broken rage that was usually unavoidable. The soft, plush curls eased his expression into something warmer, although it was impossible to tell. Kenny didn't seem to care about said change. His tone never shifted. It just grew much more sure, losing even more of the whine associated with the manner he spoke.
" Stan," Kenny informed him, his voice dipping into the possessive tone he was prone to using when referring to objects like his jacket and the like. The Jew slowly leaned back, looking down at where he continued to hold onto the activist's Raging Pussies' shirt.
" Uhhhh. . . Okay," he released his hold on his friend's shirt. The moment that he did, Kenny tugged on it much more effectively. The shirt pulled at Stan's waist as the poor boy pouted in his manner. As he had previously, Stan looked down at him and raised his eyebrows in a unconcerned way.
" What?"
" Sit," he commanded, pulling on the shirt. He used both hands for emphasis, twisting his slender body towards the brunette. Stan shook his head, pulling his book bag onto one shoulder.
" No,"
" Sit," Kenny ordered, his voice stressing the command to a new level. Stan repeated his action and answer all over again, refusing the order. At that, Kenny burst into a whine that was actually a whine. His eyes pleaded in hollow notes while he dragged his hands down, tugging the shirt enough to cause the activist's body to tilt in towards him. All around the tables, stares were exchanged until the poor boy asked his question in a casually desperate tone lost somewhere between a sharp demand and loving complaint, "Why won't you ssssiiiittt? "
" Well, Jesus, Kenny, don't cry," Kyle teased in an almost serious voice. Nevertheless, he smiled privately as he was wholeheartedly ignored by the blond who continued to nonverbally persuade Stan into staying with them. Cartman, on the other hand, rolled his eyes as he fanned himself with the cards fanned out in his hand.
" You're all a buncha fags," the Nazi mumbled, giving the ceiling a deliciously bored stare that was really an extended eye roll; another technique he had perfectly over his childhood. Kyle, though, was not amused. He didn't hesitate to bite at the bait by jabbing a finger into Cartman's face yet again that morning.
" Fuck you! I'm not gay!" the Jew snapped, grinding his teeth afterwards when he was given such a pretty smile in response. As they were gearing up for another argument, however, Stan let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. His back pack slipped from his shoulder to the floor with a loud thud that made a couple outsiders jump.
" Fine. Whatever," he breathed out while dropping into his seat in a somewhat defeated way. Regardless, Kenny grinned that catty smile as he let go of his death grip on that grey shirt. Shaking out his blond hair, as if shaking away the air of femininity that had been coating him, he pressed his back into the chair. Smugly, he fanned out his cards and eyed the other three over their blue designed backs.
" Alright, bitches, we playin' go fish or not?" the poor boy asked without a trace of any of the previous emotions. His face had returned to the normal Kenny McCormick expression: mildly amused, highly bored, and devastatingly pretty.
" I'm game," Cartman replied, moving his gaze from the Jew to the blond. Stan and Kyle both gave their consent to proceed with the shrugs and arrogant smiles of two people who were okay with this turn of events from the get go.
The game was then set and the cards started to switch hands. The rules were casually reminded of by the responsible Jew when a slyly smiling Kenny attempted to cheat the activist out of more cards than he was entitled to. From there, the game proceeded through the first couples of hands without a hitch. Cards were tossed over with faces made and victorious laughter granted. Jokes were made at luck and other's expense. A few times, Stan was required to stop a fight from breaking loose whenever Cartman blamed a bad streak of luck of Kyle's on his religion. Once, even, when times got a bit too heated and ready to explode, Kenny opened up his jacket fully and did a bit of a belly dancing routine so that the woman splashed over his chest appeared to be dancing. While only Kyle seemed to notice the woman, they all snickered and laughed as the blond grinned and let his jacket fall shut again.
As soon as it had, their attention was diverted from their cards. Outside in the hall during the first changing of classes, the four heard the distinct voice of Wendy Testaburger. Her shrilly feminine voice that wholly retained it's tone from childhood broke loose in a flurry of expletives unbefitting such a girly tone. All that was said, though, could not be made out over the shuffling of sneakers and the cat calling of those bearing witness to the screaming match. Before they could mutter suggestions on the victim, his voice broke out in defense of a crime he seemed to believe hadn't taken place. The boy was none other than Token Black. His deepening, barely smug, tone overshadowed her voice momentarily. They battled for the lead several times. This came to a halting stop, though, when Wendy shrieked that she decidedly didn't want to hear it and footsteps in high heels marched from the door. Silence descended on the room filled with more outsiders and the four.
A moment later, Token sulked into Garrison's classroom. He shared the same period of English with the four, so he too was cutting class and entering into a room that he wasn't supposed to be in. Like them, he didn't appear to care. Instead, he proceeded to the very back of the classroom, to the opposite side of the room from the freaky four. There, he dropped into a seat with a colored on top and buried his face in his arms. His short hair pressed into the arm of his designer shirt because of how hard he shoved his head into the nook of his arm in that attempt to disappear. He didn't say a word to anyone. He just remained like that, unmoving.
Garrison didn't even look up from the page of the magazine spread out on that wide expanse of naughty pictures.
" Didja shut the door?" came that Southern drawl as a page was flipped to the side and the magazine turned to better the view. In the back of the class, Token remained focused on not doing a thing. Thus, no answer was given. The silence, though, was all the answer needed, " Will one a ya fags shut the damn door? I don't wanna be hearin' that shit out there,"
One of the pale faced, doe eyed outsiders got to his feet and scurried over to the door. He quietly shut it and made like a mouse back to his desk and his collection of equally 'freshmeat' friends. Closer to the door, the four returned to the cards dealt out in front of them. Kyle picked up a card and added it to his hand without a word as to the new arrival. A green flicker in Stan's direction indicated the next contestant. The activist wet his lips and glanced at all the eyes waiting for his proposition.
" Got any threes?" he finally asked, nodding firmly in confidence. A voice came from behind in answer, though.
" No, retard, I'm not playin'," Garrison mumbled, still proving to be loud enough to be heard over the minimal chatter of the people supposed to be there. Stan looked from side to side in what might have passed for confusion on an incredibly subtle scale. Then he twisted to look at the teacher who continued to examine the new angle on the picture.
" I wasn't talking to you, Ms. Garrison,"
" Just be quiet an' play ya stupid game,"
" Uh. . . Okay," the activist cautiously turned back to the card game with his closest companions. There was a group shrug that attributed the interruption to the usual insanity of being within the confines of said classroom. Clearing his throat, Stan repeated his previous question, " Got any threes?"
" Go fish," Cartman said without expression or emotion. His face held less in it than Stan's, which was saying plenty by itself. Beside him, Kyle tapped a finger against the cards in his hand. Honey orbs watched as he did so, a faint smile appearing on the Nazi's face.
" You know, I heard Token was at Ruby Tuesday's with BeBe," Kyle stated as a matter of fact, smoothing his thumb over the edge of the card. His mention of gossip steered the entire conversation towards one of their favorite past times: sizing up and ranking on everyone they knew on a first name basis. In many cliques, it was considered idle gossip. Within the freaky four, it was a chance to pass around meaningful mistakes and hurts and pick them down until they had had enough time to dish up something about one of the four sitting in front of them. They begin as they always did.
With Eric Cartman's assessment of the prime suspect.
" BeBe's a fuckin' whore,"
" The fuck's he doin' at Ruby Tuesday's with BeBe?" Kenny asked, scrunching up his nose a tiny bit. Stan shrugged as he glanced down to the floor when he felt something tap against his sneaker. Kenny smiled softly as he tapped his shoe against the activist's once again. Nothing was said of the gesture, although when Stan looked back up, the corners of his mouth were turned up in an almost unnoticeable smile.
" Dunno. That's just what I heard,"
" You didn't hear nothing else?" the poor boy pressed, closing his jacket over the bare portion of his belly absentmindedly. Cartman sneered as he sank an inch or two into his seat. The arch of his stomach pushed that much more into the top of his swastika adorned desk. Still, none of the other three mentioned a thing about it.
" No," Kyle responded, dropping his gaze momentarily his rival's vast middle. Feeling a touch of heat rising to his face, though, he quickly shifted his gaze anywhere but.
" BeBe's a whore. He was lookin' to get laid. Duh," Cartman informed them sternly. He didn't sound as if he thought this topic was worth the time they were giving it. Nevertheless, he offered his own opinion, and he did so loudly and rudely. Kyle made a face at his suggestion, but Kenny just puckered his lips.
" Then why the hell take her to Ruby Tuesday's?" he inquired, tilting his head back to look straight up at the Nazi. Doing so caused his hood to fall onto his shoulders. Noting it, he nudged his foot energetically against Stan's. He didn't cease the motion until Stan had looked in his direction and offered him a smile in return. Grinning happily, the pervert returned to the conversation, " Shouldn't he've taken her to TGI Fridays?"
" BeBe's an expensive whore. She won't put out if you take her to TGI Friday's," Eric calmly explained as he examined the cards he was holding. The Jew shook his head violently and gestured to the heavier boy as he made quick work of fixing the curls that spilled over his ears.
" Ruby Tuesday's is not expensive," the red head spat out rather agitatedly. Cartman folded the cards casually over the roll of his belly in order to reach out to the other. He playfully pushed the red curls away, got his hand smacked, and returned to looking at the cards, " Red Lobster is expensive,"
" I don't know, okay? Maybe she likes their food," the Nazi responded, grinning a fantastically coy smirk. He was given a look of equal measure from his rival, " Who fuckin' cares?"
" I thought he was dating Wendy," Stan wasn't asking. The statement probably should have been a question, yet it wasn't. The next to lifeless look to his eyes made that very clear.
" Hence the fight, dumbass," Cartman sneered, gesturing with his cards towards the door behind the group. Stan made a face at him that melted quickly into the gentlest of smiles when he felt another nudge to his toes. Kenny caught the smile and returned it, lowering his head so that his hair fell into his eyes. Kyle, on the other hand, rolled his eyes and frowned.
" Don't be an asshole. We're just making conversation here, Cartman," he mildly snapped, adjusting one of his fluffy curls. He was wholeheartedly ignored as the bigger boy looked across the desks to where Stan was eyeing the way Kenny's hair shielded his blue eyes from sight.
" Shouldn't you be runnin' off to whisk Wendy away, Stan?"
" Why would I do that?" the activist idly asked, turning towards the Nazi. Thus, he missed the way Kenny puckered his lips in a vivid expression of distaste. He really looked like he wanted to spit out a disgusting tasty treat when he spat out harsh, biting words instead. The effect seemed to reveal him all the same of the sour expression on his otherwise attractive face.
" Don't you do it every fuckin' time she breaks up with Token?"
" I told you it's over between us," Stan said it to the group, but the only person he was staring at was Kenny. He firmly stared into those sparkling sapphires and he made every word as final as the one that proceeded and followed it. Then, nodding in the same matter, he glanced back down at his cards, " Does anyone have any threes?"
" 'Ey! I said no," Cartman barked at him, giving him a dark look for no real reason. Kyle sighed out and informed his best friend of a similar answer. The poor boy, however, grinned foolishly and bobbed his blond head up and down rapidly.
" I got a three," Kenny chirped energetically, bouncing his foot up and down on the toes of the activist. Cartman and Kyle shared a mute, brief stare while Stan held his hand out to those dirty fingers gripping a couple of the Jew's cards.
" So, give it here,"
" It's never over between you. You're her bitch in shinin' armor," Cartman teased, cutting into the grinning trades of Kenny and Stan. Kenny's smile vanished until it was replaced with his usual form of pouting. Stan, on the other hand, wet his lips in a subtle form of furious anger. As always, the Nazi smiled and fanned himself with the cards in complete nonchalance to any daggers shot towards him.
" Yeah, well, I'm done. I've been done for three months," he coldly informed them all without a trace of emotion to his flat voice. Kyle arched an eyebrow, but his expressional question was verbalized by his much heavier counterpart.
" So?"
" So, it's over," Stan hissed with noted bitterness. He chewed on his tongue, a flare of rage rising in his usual calm seas of eyes. That hurricane brewing was quenched with a damningly satisfying sentence, " I'm tired of that bitch,"
" Oooh, 'bitch'. She must've really pissed you off," Kyle probed, running the tips of his fingers over the edges of the cards. Cartman warmly agreed with a cold smile, moving his sugary eyes between the two friends. As Stan was opening his mouth, though, there was a cutting sound of disgust from the other end of the desks. Their attention was moved to Kenny, who swallowed as if he was trying to swallow something choking him.
" Let's not fuckin' talk about this," he mumbled with remarkable control to a voice that sounded on the verge of screaming hysteria. Clearing his throat, he cast them a visibly fake smile, " It's borin',"
" Yeah. Your move, Ken," Stan concurred with a subtly passionate smile. He casually reached over and plucked up the three held between two dirt smudged fingers with cut up knuckles. Those fingers smoothed over his as the card was taken, a Cheshire smile grinning at him behind the dirty orange and tangled blond covers that were the shields to Kenny.
Forced to look away with a shaky breath, Stan eyed the fallen form of Token. He saw the way his designer clothes hugged his highly well built form. Surprisingly, he didn't feel the need to call him out the way the others might have suspected he would. Rather, he just put the three into a pile of collected cards and returned to the isolation of the freaky four. Cartman was trying to pull on Kyle's hair and Kyle was viciously attempting to stop him. Both were wearing small smiles of frustration. Kenny, though, was looking at his cards with a smile on his face for no reason known. Biting his lower lip before smiling, Stan tapped his sneaker on top of Kenny's foot. He saw a jolt of shock in those sapphires followed by a striking smile in his direction.
" Got any fives?" the poor boy uttered, looking to the side at the activist's grinning face. They shared a private look while Cartman rolled his eyes and conceded the fight to Kyle. He ceased his attack of those bubbly curls before answering the question asked.
" Go fish,"
" You never have anything. I think you're cheating," Stan accused Cartman, jabbing his finger at him. There was no conviction to his voice, but that was merely because it was Stan Marsh. His voice was flat until needed to be otherwise. Accusing Eric Cartman had become such an everyday event that his voice didn't need it.
" Took you this long to figure it out?" Kyle muttered under his breath as he cast a scathing look up and down the rather full figure of the reclining Nazi. He was presented with a one armed shrug as Cartman replied expectedly.
" I'm not cheatin',"
" Bullshit," the activist pointed at Cartman with more precision this time. His aquamarine eyes even narrowed around the edges; a sure sign of rising anger within. As he was prone to violent outbursts, for a 'hippie', the Nazi made quick work of silencing him.
" I'm not," he assured him as he turned his cards around and flashed the bunch to the other three. Within the hand, there were no threes, no fives, and none of the other cards that had been suggested throughout the game. Kenny grinned at the cards, his eyes saying he was making plans to nick as many as he could. Cartman, though, flipped the bird to Stan, " Fuck off,"
" Oh, please. You've been cheating at this game since we were four," the Jew sneered out, completing the notion with a gorgeous eye roll. His sediment was returned with another rude hand gesture in his direction.
" Screw you, Jew,"
" I still think you're cheating," Stan grumbled, eyeing him suspiciously. Slowly, however, he turned his head to the poor boy messing with his cards and hood interchangeably," And go fish, Ken,"
" Whatevah. Don't be jealous,"
" Ah, shut up, Eric. We all know you cheat," Kenny playfully cooed, tilting his head towards the Nazi. Two honey eyes grew bored at him, although there was a smile handed over. Snickering, the pervert drew up a card and tucked it away.
" Whatevah,"
The cast away word was the last of its kind as the game proceeded in hissing and laughing silence. Cards were tossed down and scooped up with faces made to express feelings directed at the turn of the hand. After a couple of rounds, however, it became clear that the conversation of last was ready for a second going. Stan gritted his teeth as Cartman snatched up a Jack from Kenny. Taking no more of this, the activist slammed his hand down and pointed directly at that fat face. His outburst occurred just as the door to Garrison's classroom was opened.
" You did not have any Jack's when you showed us your hand last time!" he shouted without ever screaming. Cartman frowned at the second accusation but it was Kyle who interjected with an expressionless tone coupled with the smallest of smiles turning up his lips.
" I told you he cheats,"
" Like you really remember what I had," Cartman curtly told Stan, glancing over as Kyle raised his eyebrows arrogantly. Stan spat out the first thing that came to mind as his eyes lit up with a familiar rush of hatred. The tidal wave building in those serene orbs was beginning to match that of a typhoon as he spoke.
" There weren't any Jacks!"
" You had one ten, one seven, one Queen, one King, and one eight. And they were all hearts," the Jew calmly interrupted with the same smile of before. He was cast a truly exasperated look by the Nazi that he matched with a pleasant look of innocence.
" How do you remember that shit?" Cartman demanded as he moved his weight forward to rest his arm on the desk. Two emeralds faced him as the lick of fire moved over Kyle's neck and shoulders in a caressing tease. He smiled a fiery expression that cried out to be matched by equally fury.
" Because. You cheat. I memorized it," Kyle told him with deliberate calmness to his voice. The ball of embers within was beginning to uncurl and spread it's white, hot fingers to the inner reaches of his mind. Still, he suppressed the bait to a mild smile as he wet his lips tentatively. The calculating grin which he received eased the fire into his blood. There was expectation to those sugary, tasty eyes that was moving towards the same goal he was.
Alas, it was not meant to be.
" How the hell do you memorize shit so quickly?" Kenny asked in the bewilderment reflective of their conversation in the hallway earlier. Kyle opened his mouth to answer harshly when Stan held his hand out to Cartman. He made a 'come here' motion with his fingers alone as he snapped at the Nazi.
" You're out, Cartman. Hand over your cards,"
" Goddammit," he hissed, turning his full cheek into his shoulder in agitation. Rather than glaring at the wall, however, he looked dead on into the burning stare of the Jew. A half smile of teasing, torturous blood lust washed over his face. He seemed to address Kyle alone when he sneered out his next line, " I was gonna win, too,"
" Of course you were," Kyle whispered venomously back. He took the bait and he swallowed it hungrily, greedily. He felt the fire burning, felt the flames igniting, and he felt the look running over his slender body. The last bit, spoken lower, rolled off his tongue with menacing heat to their very sound, " You cheated,"
Cartman gave Kyle a glare that was sharp as a knife and as profoundly aimed as an arrow. The combination jolted fire to the heated face of the Jew in a white flash of shivers. Choking on the acid in his throat, Kyle removed his widened eyes from the practiced taunt of his closest rival. Instead, he looked towards where several of their 'crew' slinked into the classroom from the outside hell. Cards were thus slapped into Stan's outstretched fingers as the conversation, the heat, and the flames died down. It was directed at the three people who were weaving their way through the deer in headlights that were the outsider freshmeat.
That title decidedly didn't work for Craig Tucker, Clyde Donavan, or Tweek Tweak. Those three were members of the insiders; people who had grown up in close connection to the freaky four. Although not their closest friends outside each other, they were viewed with neutral lens. They had their own quirks and plenty of demons that attributed to their gang's silent alliance with the four. As it was, however, they did not acknowledge the four sets of jewel eyes on them. They moved through the drags of human waste to the back. They were obviously there for support of Token. He didn't fit well with their gang, not since middle school, but they had been close in elementary. Somehow, even in the dim lights of freshman year, the days of that school called out to them all.
Nevertheless, the four were equally different. Craig had grown into the darker look of nonchalance with deep blues and greys making up the majority of his wardrobe. His jet black hair was cut with a razor, despite it remaining hidden underneath a knit hat he wasn't supposed to be wearing. Clyde had long since given up on the boy styles that had proceeded him throughout his early years. His semi curvy body was squeezed into a gorgeous shirt of red and jeans with stars on the pockets. The look was reflective of his usual attire: femininely butch. As per usual, Tweek was shivering in a loose, ill buttoned green shirt that hit him at mid thigh. His jeans were ratty in an official way, from wear and tear only. The weight of his younger days had melted away until he was on the skinny side as the McCormick children. His wide lime eyes stared vaguely at the others with their bored and dead expressions on mild indifference.
Upon reaching Token's forlorn body, Tweek wrapped his arms about his stomach and hung his head in a globally accepted stance of the sick. Clyde took a hearty bite out of a candy bar and slipped up next to Craig. There was no reason why he stood as close to him as he did, but he did. Craig, on the other hand, twisted around to flash the bird to the whole of the classroom. His gesture was seen by Garrison, who arched an eyebrow at the motion. The freaky four grinned in greeting while the class recoiled.
" Oh flip yerself off, ya damn fag," Garrison growled out, flipping a page in yet another naughty magazine. A hand was idly waved in the direction of the wide, open doorway, " Someone better fuckin' shut that goddamn door,"
There was a moment of pause throughout the classroom. The freaky four all snickered at the suggestion as they continued to ignore their teacher. Craig's gang wasn't keen to react in any way either. In fact, all they responded with was a loud, meaningless exclamation from Tweek. Eventually, then, one of the pathetic twigs of meat of the actual class hurried to shut the door to avoid a bitch fit. As he returned to his seat with pride, eyes were rolled and a page was shifted. A muttered cut down burst the sorry boy's pride with a sharp prick from the teacher unimpressed.
" Retarded kiss ass,"
As a light giggle flooded over the class, Stan finished sorting his victory cards from Cartman. He carefully placed them into the piles and places that they were supposed to. These places consisted of little piles on his desk, all of which were arranged according to a mental map. When he finished, he smiled briefly at the blank faces of his closest companions. Cartman, however, quickly rolled his eyes with that perfected measure of mocking fun.
" OCD much,"
" Screw you," Stan snapped back, flipping his Nazi pal off with a wave of the hand to emphasis his point. His gesture was waved off lazily as those honey eyes glanced over at the crowd of insiders on the opposing side of the room.
" Anyone notice Tweek looks like shit?" Cartman asked, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands behind his head. The action dramatically accented the massive expanse of his middle, but the accent was ignored. The only motion made to recognize it, in fact, was the superficial smile on Kenny's lips and the blushing burning to Kyle's emeralds.
" Tweek always looks like shit," the activist remarked dryly, tapping his fingers on the desk in a vain attempt to figure out which move he should proceed with. Underneath the table, Kenny's foot tapped his and he innocently nudged it back. Above the table, however, they didn't even look at each other; even as smiles formed on their lips.
" Yeah, he really hasn't handled the 'pressure' of freshman year very well," Kyle replied, moving forward and resting his weight on his elbows. He knew doing so put him much closer to Cartman, but he did so anyways. He coyly moved his gaze to the side to look at the Nazi, but he didn't receive the biting remark about his change of positions that he had expected.
" He looks hung over," Cartman stated, still looking over at the group doing somewhat of a heartfelt job at comforting Token. Frowning, Kyle fell back against his chair. Doing so gathered a half smile from the Nazi. It slipped like sugar down the Jew's back.
" It's not summer yet. Tweek doesn't drink during the school year," Stan absentmindedly reminded them as he picked up one of his stacks, " None of them do,"
" God knows they need to. Might help 'im calm down," Kenny joked, puckering his lips into a wonderfully innocent pout. Stan smiled slightly as he put the last stack into a new position. He turned his eyes to the group whereas Cartman rolled his and addressed the whole.
" Why don't they drink during the school year?"
" I'unno," the activist answered half heartedly. He exaggerated the sentence with a double shrug of his shoulders.
" I think we're the only kids that do, actually," Kyle softly whispered in a voice that shouldn't have been a whisper. There was too much strength to his words. Still, he breathed them out like a curse not meant for any ears; not even their own.
A frozen silence halted the conversation at the freaky four's desks. Their eyes met in the center, a tragic gaze of emerald, sapphire, aquamarine, and topaz. The gazes overlapped as Kyle turned his head down, Kenny smiled coyly, Stan glanced away, and Cartman remained an empty stare of hollowness. Slowly, cards were shuffled, the still was broken, and the gaze shattered with a soft smile of fragile beauty of the angelic kind. Kenny's smile moved through their lips and drew from them nervous laughter, strained grins, and apologetic shoulder rolls. Having shaken the tremble of cold creeping up from wishfully forgotten bottles, the conversation resurrected itself without effort on their part.
" I think Clyde has something to do with it," Stan suggested, tilting his head as if that would incline the rest to his favor. Kyle nodded stiffly while Cartman raised his eyebrows across the table at the other brunette.
" Clyde?"
" Yeah. Clyde. The chubby brunette. Cries a lot," the activist mocked, a half smile jolting over his flat affect. Cartman made a face at him that made Kyle snicker beyond his control. The rivals shared a devastatingly short exchange of honey sugar and cold emeralds before attentions were returned to Stan.
" I know who he is, smartass," the Nazi sneered with surprising annoyance. Stan held up his palms in a mute form of surrender that was disregarded, " I mean, what's he got to do with anythin'?"
" In case you haven't noticed, he's gone on a really high health kick lately," the Jew cut in to save Stan some face before he was torn asunder by their vicious counterpart. Cartman leaned slightly to the side to peer around those red curls to see where Clyde was patting Token absentmindedly on the shoulder. The crybaby of the insiders took a second bite out of his candy bar while Cartman glanced at Kyle.
" Yeah, 'cause Snickers are sssoooo healthy," he cooed out in teasing pleasure as he settled back into his seat. Kyle's face got a momentarily sour expression while a spark shot from his hot head to his toes.
" I meant he's decided not to drink and smoke," Kyle retorted, moving forwards as though literally moving into the biting statement. Cartman didn't appear to be concerned with the hatred dripping off those frozen words. Rather, he shrugged and asked the Jew a simple question with a simple, mild tone that was shockingly infuriating.
" Why?"
" I think he got hung over and woke up next to someone he didn't know," Stan explained, looking up from his cards. He cut in with a manner that suggested he could feel the rising flames. As he had all morning, he put a stop to the brewing argument attempting to flirt its way into a full blown bitch fest. Neither Kyle or Cartman appeared pleased with said decision.
" Bullcrap," Cartman snapped in a dark voice. He redirected his frustrations at Stan with little trouble, despite the fact that he continued to tilt his eyes in the direction of his favorite enemy, " Clyde could never put away that much,"
" Yeah? Why not? He puts away enough food," the activist offhandedly jeered, a full blown grin forming on his lips. Kyle gapped at him for his daring while Cartman rolled his eyes in a wholly unimpressed manner. Kenny, on the other hand, let out a chuckle as he smacked his cards down onto the desk.
" Amen to that, brotha!" the poor boy exclaimed, folding his hands in the form of a prayer. He snickered into his fingertips to the laughter of the activist. The Jew, though, shook his head in disapproval in spite of the catty smile building in his devilishly wicked lips.
" Oh, guys, knock it off," Kyle said without his usual conviction. Cartman waved the group off with his cards in a truly dismissive sort of way. The snickers faded away as Kenny peered through his messy hair at the Nazi.
" Clyde's a light weight," Cartman informed them as a matter of fact. A wide, sickly pleased grin swept across the pervert's dirt smeared face. Kyle opened his mouth in silently semi amused shock. Stan, however, motioned with both hands to the large curve to the other's waistline. When he did, all four sets of their eyes moved down to that expanse.
" Only compared to you,"
" I ain't that much bigger than him," he replied without the slightly hint of concern to where the whole lot of his closest friends were staring. Stan arched an eyebrow while Kenny burst into a fit of schoolgirl style giggles. Kyle, however, quickly turned his head to avoid looking at the weight gathered at his rival's middle. There was a tinge of fire dancing over his cheeks, but, again, the hue of his locks hide it surprisingly well.
" Yeah. Okay. Whatever you say, fat boy," Stan mumbled as he turned his eyes upwards in a disbelieving dismissal of the claim. Cartman gave an unconcerned shrug as Kenny collapsed onto the desk in his shrill bouts of snickers. He attempted to muffle them with his hands, but they were heard quite well. Grinning foolishly, he spread said fingers to speak through the full body seizure of hysteria.
" You weigh more than your mom's car," he hissed out, his eyes a glow and his face rouged from the laughter. Both Stan and Kyle recoiled to avoid being caught within the crossfire of the black inferno of rage that consumed those sweet honey eyes. Cartman slammed his hands down on the desk and heaved himself up without any effort. Kenny continued to laugh out loud until his friend snatched up his hood and jerked him backwards.
" I do NOT!" the Nazi screamed down into the suddenly still face of the blond. Two wide sapphires blinked up at the fury of madness that went from those cold eyes to the grip on the ratty jacket held in a hand that looked ready to strangle. As Kyle and Stan were scrambling to their feet to stop the inevitable thrashing, a Southern drawl broke out as a magazine was thrown into the activists' back.
" Shut the fuck up, ya retards!" Garrison cried, pointing at them as if they didn't already know they were the ones being addressed. Cartman smashed Kenny's head forward, causing it to collide with the desk, and took his seat with a considerable growl of swear words. Kyle remained standing, giving the Nazi a warning look, while Stan held up his palms towards their teacher.
" Yes, Ms. Garrison," he calmly said, taking his seat without acknowledging the magazine attack. Kenny, though, pried his face off the wood and shot a vaguely cold look in the direction of that aged face.
" Fuck off,"
" Ya watch ya mouth, McCormick!" Garrison screeched, jabbing a finger in the direction of those dimly wicked eyes, " I'll send ya to the principal's office!"
" Ya will not," Kenny sneered out. He coupled the mocking tone with a face and gloriously timed eye roll. Before he could say another thing, however, Kyle reached across the desks and whacked him in the side of the head. Cartman burst out in laughter while the poor boy whimpered and rubbed his ear with a fake hurt look to his blue eyes. Kyle shot him the same warning look he had granted the Nazi as he slipped into his seat. Stan, though, reached over and absentmindedly rubbed Kenny's head as he glanced at the foursome.
On the other side of the classroom, Clyde cast them a strange look. It was not, though, a look that went unnoticed. Cartman saw it and he smiled a devious smile that never quite reached his sweetly sugary eyes.
" What's up, Clyde?" the Nazi asked, tilting his head to the side. He gave the mildly shocked insider a wave with his fingers as he casually smiled at him. Every action of Cartman's said 'old friends', although the two couldn't have been further from it.
" Nothin'," Clyde answered, turning around slightly to look at the freaky four. All of them peered over him in a way that stated they were sizing him up. He was immune, however, and just idly motioned to them, " What're you guys talking about?"
" How tight your jeans have gotten," Cartman replied without hesitation. There was a touch of sarcastic seriousness to his otherwise heinous tone. That went quite unnoticed as a flare of white, hot, almost touchable fire engulfed the boys of the insider crowd. Craig spun around and gritted his teeth while Tweek jerked his head up. Even Token looked up from his fallen stance to cast a dark stare in their direction.
" Fuck you! Leave him alone!" Craig shouted, flipping the Nazi the bird. His voice was strongly poised like a weapon ready to strike. For someone who rarely expressed a smirk, it was like a slap across the face. Cartman, of course, just smiled at the scream as if this was the most fun he'd had all morning.
" GAH! You're one to talk!" Tweek shrieked, pounding his fists on the desk he was seated at. His voice went hysterical fast, but, really, that was nothing new. The lime explosion of hatred was, though.
" Bite me, Tweek. Fuckin' bite me," Cartman cooed, only casting the coffee addict a passing glance. His orbs remained on the blank expression on Clyde's face. Rather than bursting into tears as he would have years beforehand, he turned his expression into stone resembling the look usually gracing Craig or Stan's face. He turned that hardened expression to the unmoved smile of the Nazi.
" Don't talk about me, fat ass," he stated firmly and soundly. He even finished the command with a generous exchange of the bird. As he turned away, though, Cartman motioned to the way those jeans hugged that curved body. When he spoke, his question was about a sweet as the sugar in his eyes.
" Why? Don't like the extra weight?"
" Screw you. I'm not fat," Clyde barked back, although his voice jumped in fluster. There was no red to his cheeks, but his eyes were livid with it; with the blush his deadpan expression refused to showcase. That was enough. That was enough to make Cartman's smile twist and turn into something vile and bloodied hot. Deep, dark waters sprang to life as the emotion drained from his topaz orbs eyeing that unsuspecting insider. He never got a chance to strike at the nerves rising up.
" Cartman, shut up," Stan demanded, making a familiar halting motion with his hand. The Nazi cast him a deliciously evil sideways glance that was ignored as the activist turned around to look at the insiders, " We're not talking about you, Clyde,"
" Yes, we are," Kenny interjected as he picked up his discarded cards one by one. Stan nudged his foot roughly under the table, but the brunette was merely given a pretty smile in return. Kyle, though, waved his hands to either side. His actions gathered him the attention of both groups.
" Yeah, but not about his weight. About his drinking," the Jew reminded his posse without even bothering to look at the others. Clyde made a face that was a cross between distrust and confusion.
" I don't drink," he protested sternly, pointing to himself for further emphasis. Craig flipped him the bird while Kyle finally turned to look at him. He nodded at him, tucking his curls behind his ear so that his cat like eyes could be fully seen.
" That's what I was telling Cartman,"
" Why are you talking about me drinking?" Clyde questioned, his expression as quizzical. There probably should have been suspicion in his voice, but there wasn't. He had known the four long enough to know that when they were talking of anything outside idle gossip, it usually took five police men and an interrogation room to gather one scrap of conversation exchanged. Otherwise, their chit chat was pretty harmless. Thus, curiosity was really all he suggested with his question.
" 'Cause we already talked about Token gettin' his ass whupped by his ex girlfriend," Kenny responded with a preoccupied tone while he sorted through his bent cards. Glancing up, though, he grinned heartlessly, " Now we gotta talk 'bout somethin' else,"
" If you guys wanna talk about something else, why don't you talk about Red and her 'Censor Kenny' project?" Token offered, half smiling at the suggestion. His smile was short lived for the vast amount of liquid fury that swept over the blond's striking face. Those sapphire's darkened a considerable amount as every feature in his face went from fair to outraged.
" Her fuckin' WHAT project?" he screamed, throwing his cards back down onto the table. Stan gave him a look which was tainted with compassion before Token cut in with a repetition that only enraged the normally mute pervert.
" Her 'Censor Kenny' project,"
" You guys haven't heard yet? I thought you guys were on top of everything," Craig sneered, placing his hands on his hips as he did. Kenny let out an inaudible screech that was more or less a series of strung together swears in Southern accent. Token arched an eyebrow while Tweek withdrew a couple of inches with paranoid fear etched into his forever wide eyes.
" Nope. Only if it's fat enough to be seen from where we're sittin'," Cartman explained with a vainly, complacent smile of horrendous proportions. Leaning forward to rest an elbow on the desk, he pointed directly at the suddenly blushed cheeks of the crybaby insider, " Like Clyde,"
" Fuck you! I'm not fat!" Clyde retorted, loudly and harshly without a trace of the embarrassment shown within the depths of his expression. His voice brought out a wash of flames within the Jew. Jerking back to face the fat face of his rival, he turned his emerald eyes into dark pools of burning embers.
" Shut the fuck up, Cartman! It's not funny to talk about people and their weight unless it's about you!" Kyle snapped, gesturing to the ample amount of curves gracing his friend. The Nazi smiled kindly at him, as if presented with the perfect compliment and being too modest to verbally acknowledge it. That smile, that vicious appeal, ran hot, hurtful fingers over the shoulders and back of the shivering Jew. White flames erased whatever other words which had been lurking around his mouth in a burst of speechlessness.
" Yeah, 'cause then it's just sad," Kenny breathed out in a tone that was highly knowing, even if his jeer wasn't meant to sound such a way. He was given a much more razor like gaze than that of the Jew. The smile on his dirty face, however, never faltered.
" What's with you, Cartman? Leave Clyde alone," Stan ordered, folding his cards onto the desk top. A stare was thrown his way as the Nazi waved his cards up and down the activist's person in what could be classified as agitation.
" 'Ey. You kicked me outta the game. I've got nothin' else to do but look around," he snapped in objection. Stan didn't seem amused by the reminder, although he had no chance to reply when those darkened eyes moved back to where the insiders were glaring in group annoyance, "An' I keep gettin' sidetracked by how very fat Clyde's gotten this year,"
" He has not!" Craig broke out in manic outrage. He snatched up Clyde's upper arm and jerked the crybaby back so that he was standing behind him. The stone cold feel to his heavy glare was penetrating as the hand of death, " Jus' shut up!"
" GAH! If we're talkin' about who's gotten fat this year, we should be talkin' about you!" Tweek added with a poignant jab at the heavier boy's stomach. All at once, the pull to Cartman's eyes melted into something resembling a moonless summer's eve: scorching darkness. The look caused the addict to tremble even as his eyes remained cut slices of tart lime.
" Screw you, Tweek. You're the one who looks like death warmed over twice," he growled out, resting the tips of the cards on the bulge of his overstuffed belly. Tweek squeaked, grabbing at his messy lemon locks. He twitched violently before smacking his palms down on the desk and whimpering in a completely detached way.
" I can't help the pressure! Oh GOD!" his voice was cut short as he buried his face in his arms, slamming both down onto the desk top. An electric charge roared through the faces of the insiders as Tweek broke down in a fit of nonsense and quivering twitches.
" Jesus Christ," Stan mumbled, squeezing the bride of his nose. Quickly, he turned to the vaguely distant look the Jew continued to wear. He whacked his best friend in the arm to get the attention he sought, " Kyle, get him to stop pickin' a fight before they all gang up on us,"
" Cartman," Kyle came to life is a flurry of fire that jumped into his blood at Stan's command. His hand jerked back and smashed into the side of the Nazi's head. Without restraint, he snatched up that bloodied shirt as he allowed the pitch of white to overthrow his mind. Lost in the screeching heat, he hissed out the perfect threat for the moment, " If you don't knock if off, I'll tell Butters' parents that you were kissin' their son today and you won't be able to go over to his house all fuckin' summer! You'll be stuck home with your mother and your cat!"
" I NEVER kissed Butters!" Cartman screamed back with stunning rage behind every syllable of every word. Kyle yanked the heavier boy closer, so as to accent his own shouts.
" They don't need to know that! Knock it off or I'll make your summer a living hell! And don't think I won't!" the Jew threatened, releasing his shirt with a snap of his wrist. He was presented with a seductive look of pure hatred. He swallowed it whole as he eased his body back into the chair. Half heartedly, he threw back an ember enthralled stare, " I've really got nothing better to do,"
" Oh, trust me, I believe you. Fuckin' Jew," the Nazi growled back, roughly adjusting his shirt by tugging on it at his vast middle. Kyle gritted his teeth with a burning lick running over the back of his neck. Finally, Cartman waved Kyle off with a flick of his hand and a roll of his eyes, " Alright, alright,"
" There!" Kyle grabbed up a few of the cards and threw them into Cartman's face without regard to his aim, " You're dealt back in! Now, don't cheat this time and we'll let you play!"
"Ugh. Fine," Cartman moaned, gathering up the cards. He shuffled them with noticeable irk to the situation. His attitude was wholeheartedly ignored as Kyle breathed slowly to calm his heart down. Kenny grinned into his cards, nudging the toes of the activist. Stan, on the other hand, gave a half smile to the four insiders. All he got in return was a slight glare from Clyde and the finger from Craig.
From there, the game continued with little to no interruption. The cards were tossed away and snatched up with discard and greed. The freaky four stayed within the confines of their world doing this. Their words danced along the topic of television shows they had, or hadn't, seen and the people they had seen doing such and such at this and that place. The other insiders reflected their idle conversation on the opposite side of the room. Occasionally, when the topic favored it, the two groups shared gossip and rumors and traded secrets and stats. Laughter and the infrequent glare was presented on both sides until the talk ran dry and each one returned to their inner circles.
As for the outsiders, they moved and shuffled through in droves. They were cold shouldered by all the insiders as they shifted through the dim world of the teenage sanctuary of Garrison's classroom. They came and went with pale faces of either wide eyes or obsessive makeup. Every last one was freahmeat and deemed unworthy of picking out in the groups. As it was, only one had anything to do with the crowds of insiders within. One unlucky soul was targeted by a bored and losing Cartman. He made point to trip and laugh at the poor child before telling him, in a wickedly low voice, just what he could do with the threat to complain to a teacher. Aside from that, however, the two groups went about the day as such.
Throughout the class changes, other insiders made their way into the dreary walls of the room. Around fourth period, Jimmy Vulmer and Timmy rolled on in with their book bags. They wore symbols for their gang, the Crips, proudly on folded up bandanas and brass knuckles. They cracked knuckles with the guys and dished about pieces of tail from the evening before. Jimmy had a one liner too dirty for their grade level, but he told it anyway to the snickering crowds. Outsider girls cooed to them, but were turned down calmly and with jokes.
At fifth period, the giggling school girls turned high school honeys, BeBe Stevens and Wendy Testaburger, slipped on in. They were arm and arm with contrasting pink and purple princess tees and mini skirts. Around their necks, they wore necklaces emphasizing the feminist movement. Cattily, they turned their backs on Token and, instead, sweetly fell all over the freaky four with polished nails plucking at hair and shirts in teasing cuteness. Winking then, they swept to the back to gossip and pop their gum over books on legislation.
At sixth period, the final period, Leopold 'Butters' Stotch made his way into the room. His warm blond hair had grown waist long and was fastened back with a tie to keep it in a ponytail. He waved and knocked his fingers together and he sat at the desk next to the freaky four. His turquoise outfit stood out amongst their colors, but he didn't seem to notice. He just asked of them and of their conversations. They shared what they knew before dealing him in for a couple of hands of Go Fish. He lost every hand he played, but, as always, he was a graceful loser. Instead, he turned his attention to rambling about nothing in particular as the magazine pages in Garrison's stack turned and whittled down to none.
At long last, the final minute was upon the freshman.