Note to self: lack of food equals lack of energy. And a lack of energy plus exercise equals exhaustion.
I had just finished my fifty-meter butterfly when I started to feel like I was going to pass out. I climb out of the pool, using the very last of all the energy my body possesses. I collapse on the deck, and my swim team buddies come over to me. Tweek looks like he's going to scream, and Cartman looks like he could care less.
After sitting up and breathing heavily for a while, Cartman says something about my low economic status having to do with my lack of strength, which I chose to ignore. Tweek helps me up.
"GAH! What's wrong?" Tweek exclaims worriedly. I force a reassuring smile onto my face.
"I'm fine, just tired out is all."
Cartman snorts. "Probably has too many STDs to function properly." Ouch. I glare at the overweight jerk now in line for practice racing. He smirks, clearly proud of himself, though I honestly think he went too far.
Tweek jumps away from me. "Holy Jesus, you have STDs?" he asks in terror. I give him a look.
"No, Cartman's just being an asshole," I inform the shaking blonde with a glare. Tweek curses and jumps again, clearly not believing that I'm not diseased. I don't get why he cares - I've never slept with him anyways.
Cartman's next in line for the two-person trials. This is going to be rich. After all, the only reason Eric joined the swim team was to see girls in bathing suits. The coach blows his whistle and Cartman flops into the pool, racing against Heidi Clemens. Cartman swims hilariously slowly and I laugh at him. He stops halfway through the race to take a breather, due to his 'big bones'. Heidi beats him by about three minutes.
"Before you... say anything..." Cartman says as he climbs out of the pool between gasps. "That Heidi bitch is on fuckin' steroids or some shit." I roll my eyes with a smirk.
I race once more, against Tweek, who kicks my ass. Surprisingly, the kid's good at sports. Fast reflexes, and good under pressure. His winning was also aided by the fact that my breakfast this morning was a diet pill and a stick of peppermint gum. Only five calories.
The coach blows his whistle again, and we all go to get changed to make it to school on time. Morning swim practice equals hell. Sleep-deprived hell.
After ten minutes of kissing up to Cartman, he agrees to give me a ride to school.
The entire ride, Cartman blabbers on about how poor I am, how much of a whore I am and the like. I almost wish I'd walked to school, but at this point I'm afraid I'd run out of energy.
Cartman drops me off about a block away from the school, claiming he can't be seen with me in his car. I roll my eyes and make the two-minute walk to the school. I bite my lip when I see a black-haired male waiting for me in front of the school.
Ever since my dad spazzed out at Craig, I figured we were off again. It had been three days that he'd been avoiding me, but I guess he was just a little freaked out. I waved at him from a few yards away. He didn't wave back.
"What's up?" I ask. Craig shrugs. I give him a look, but he doesn't say anything. The bell for first period rings, but neither of us move. Attending class had never been high on either of our priority lists, but I wasn't too crazy about skipping art with Kyle Broflovski all to myself just to put up with Craig's bullshit.
Craig sighs and heads into the school. I follow him, about to ask what his problem is. But he heads right for the boys' bathroom, and I already know.
In a matter of seconds he's got me up against the bathroom wall, I'm hard as hell, Craig's tongue is down my throat and his hands at my crotch. "So," I say casually when he finally calms down. "You're not mad anymore?"
Craig looks up. "I wasn't mad," he says. His bony fingers slide up my fat, disgusting torso, under my shirt. "I was just... scared for you," he mutters. "I don't know. Sorry," he adds. I feel ashamed and exposed when he removes my shirt. I suck in, hoping to delude both of us into thinking that I'm skinny.
"Have you lost weight?" he asks without looking up. I swallow, shrugging.
"W-why?"
Craig shrugged, not making it a big deal. He simply continues doing talented things with his tongue and moving his way downward.
I walk into art class thirty minutes later, surely reeking of smoke and sex. I plop down in my usual spot next to Kyle, moping rather prominently, having just been brutally dumped. Not that it wasn't my fault.
"Why so late, Ken? Sleep in again?" Kyle asks cheerfully, with a bright giggle that only Kyle could make. I smile despite my nasty breakup only minutes previously. Everyone's right. I am a whore.
"Yeah, just... running late this morning," I lie. Kyle's known me for my whole life, though, and he knows I'm lying. He slides his drawings away and looks at me with concern.
"What's up, Kenny?" he asks. I cough and tell him 'nothing,' which he continues not to buy. "You know you can trust me," he says earnestly.
I sigh, knowing I'll regret telling Kyle, but I love him too much to keep lying to him. "Well, Craig sorta dumped me this morning." Kyle widens his eyes slowly.
"Y-you never told me you were going out with Craig," Kyle chokes out.
I clear my throat. "Yeah, I know, sorry about that." Kyle just nods.
"So, uh, why'd he break up with you?" Kyle asks uncomfortably. I pause. Well I was just in the middle of being screwed into the bathroom wall and I said your name rather loudly.I know I can't tell him the truth, but I also don't want to lie to him again. Kyle just shakes his head. "Never mind, you don't have to tell me. It's your business."
"Thanks," I say quietly. Kyle smiles comfortingly and puts his hand over my own. My heart races.
"If you want to talk about it..." I nod once, and Kyle returns to his art project.
A class of watching a delicate redhead paint in carefully formed strokes ended much too soon. Then I go off to philosophy and Kyle goes off to physics. I sit drearily through a boring class of lecturing, and jump up excitedly when the lunch bell rings.
Then Kyle ditches me for Rebecca, Stan ditches me for Wendy, Cartman ditches me to try and get laid, and I sit alone for the lunch hour in the bathroom crying.
I sleep through math and skip gym class because Craig might be there. Pathetic, I know. The whole afternoon I think about everything anyone's ever told me. My father told me this morning that I'd never amount to anything. Cartman told me last week that I could drop dead and no one would care. And Craig told me during first period art that I was a whore, and that he was a retard for dating me.
And my stomach growls and my head pounds and my muscles are so weak and everyone's right. I'm nothing, I'm a whore, I'm worthless. I'm so fat but I can't move, and I need to eat, but I just can't. I just can't and I'm so lonely and I don't want to be a whore anymore.
I'm sweating, but I try to keep as calm as possible as I leave early. Instead of catching the bus back to stupid South Park where all my stupid 'friends' live, I head down the road to Colfax Point. It's not like I couldn't use some dough, and to be honest? These guys don't mind if I call them Kyle.
I sit in my usual alleyway until the sun sets, and eventually a random picks me up.
"Thirty for a lay," I reply to him. I'm so tired. But I just need to be out of it, and I don't have the perpetual cash flow to get into drugs and shit. So this is all I have.
I get into this complete stranger's car, and I forget everything. It's just false pleasure and reassurance. I've got no fucking control. My friends, my grades, my parents. All I can control is this. This and my empty stomach. And for now, it's enough.
But it won't be enough forever.