South Park © Matt & Trey.

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On our way out of the school, Eric stops me and pulls me aside with force. Craig looks back at us and raises an eyebrow. "I'll catch up with you in the parking lot," I tell him before turning to Eric. "What?" I bite out.

"Why are you spending so much time with that asshole? Remember what a cocksucker he was when we were kids?"

"He's not that bad," I say. "He's a hell of a lot nicer than you. Besides, we were all little assholes as kids… and some of us still are."

Eric smirks. "Are you, like… legit gay for him or something? Christ, at one point in my life I thought you were the straightest guy I knew. Is he trying to seduce you?"

"Dude, no. Craig doesn't do shit like that," I give a frustrated sigh. "And even if I was with him, why the hell does it matter so much?"

"It doesn't," he pauses, "At least, on a whole it doesn't… However, it would give me something else to taunt you about."

I think Eric is insecure. That's why he's so homophobic. He feels the need to compensate for all the less than masculine things he did when we were kids. "I'm glad to know where your priorities lie," I murmur, walking off.

Outside, Craig is sitting on a bench holding keys. "Sorry about that," I say as he stands up. He doesn't bother answering, so I silently follow him to his car.

"I didn't even know you had a car," I mention.

"It's a piece of shit," he murmurs. "I just picked it up the other day. It was getting repaired." A pause. "What did Eric want?" he asks as we settled inside.

"He's just being a dick, like always," I say nonchalantly. Craig pulls out of the school parking lot and the ride is silent. "What are you scared of?" I ask out of the blue.

He doesn't answer for a while, and part of me thinks he isn't going to say anything at all until he lets out a quiet sigh. "Why?"

"I want to know."

"Why?"

"Because I want to know about you."

"But why?"

"You interest me," I say.

He looks humored. "I don't think that anyone has ever said that or even thought it before."

"Heh, well I guess I'm special."

Honestly, I don't know much about Craig Tucker. I just know he likes animals. After a few minute of thoughtful silence he admits, "I don't like heights."

"Not really the kind of answer I was looking for or expecting, but I'll take it," I chuckle.

"Well, what were you expecting?"

"Something a little darker?" I shrug, chuckling some more.

"I don't think I have any," he says.

Pf, bullshit. "I think you do. I mean, most people do. It just takes something to happen before they realize it."

"Is that so?" he asks, and I can tell he's completely uninterested in what I'm saying by the tone of his voice.

"Yeah…" I continue, paying no mind to his apathy. "You don't know your true self until you're faced with a tragedy because then all of the stupid shit is pushed to the side and all you have left is the important things. You find out what really matters, who really matters… You'll find out who is going to be there for you when shit hits the fan."

"I see," he murmurs carelessly.

"You're scared of people finding out you're gay," I tell him.

"That's justifiable."

"Kids can be cruel," I admit.

Silence.

"Who is your favourite writer?" I ask.

"Mark Twain," he says.

"I don't even know who that is," I snort.

"We studied him in school…" he states as if he's talking to a retard.

"Oh," I say. "Guess I wasn't that into him."

"Who do you like, then?"

"I'm more of a comic book kinda guy."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," I chuckle. "Though, I don't usually admit it."

"So, no novels?"

"Kyle likes it when people read… He kind of made it his responsibility last summer to make sure we all kept reading. He gave us all a pile of books he thought suited us and our interests. So, in my pile was Charles Bukowski and a shit ton of Chuck Palahniuk."

"I like Chuck Palahniuk."

"I like him too," I smile. "Out of all the novels Kyle gave me to read, his were my favourite. Bukowski was a dick, especially to the ladies."

"You read all the books he gave you to read?"

"I did…" I pause. "Do you read a lot, Craig?"

"I suppose."

"Cool," I say. Honestly, he doesn't strike me as a reader. Maybe I'm just being judgemental. Kyle once told me that reading is like an escape for some people. If a person is unhappy with their own life, books can take them away for a while. I guess sometimes it's easier to be taken away than to deal with things in life. I get that, but I was never big into reading.

I wonder if Craig is like Kyle – always looking for an escape. Or maybe he just likes the simple entertainment.

Once we arrive at the pet store, an employee greets Craig by name. "Hi," he answers before turning down an aisle.

"You come here a lot, I'm assuming?" I ask.

"Yeah, I buy pet supplies for Stripe here," he says, looking at the cages of guinea pigs.

Once he picks one that looks like Stripe is supposed to look, a woman puts the little rodent in a box and Craig pays for it. I hold the box in my lap on the car ride back; while thinking it's kind of sad Craig does this. I'm assuming his parents used to do it and he just kept up the old tradition when he found out that his pet wasn't living long, but dying and always being replaced without him knowing. Once the cage is full again, he probably pretends he still doesn't know that Stripe is always being replaced.

"I should get my licence," I say, just for the sake of saying something.

"You don't have it already?" he asks.

"No. I can't even afford to take it, dude."

"That sucks," he says unsympathetically.

"And even if I did have it, I guess it'd be pointless."

"Why?"

"I don't have a car and I can't see myself getting one any time soon."

"Why not?"

"My money goes towards food, for the most part," I admit. "My parents never go grocery shopping. All they care about is buying drugs. I've come to accept that. Sometimes my mom tries… but things just get in the way."

"Oh…" he pauses. "I thought that was mostly rumors."

"No," I snort. "I mean… it's bad, but they're mine and I kind of have to love them."

"You don't have to."

"Well," I shrug. "Being the type of person that I am, I do."

"And what kind of person is that?"

"Too forgiving, I guess."

I think, in many ways, Craig and I are like polar opposites. Maybe that means we can learn a bit from each other, like Karen said. He strikes me as the kind of guy who could really hold a grudge, but would do it in secret.

The weekend is already here and I'm already drunk at Token's. The rest of the week went by quietly. Awkward conversations with Craig and secret confrontations with Eric, while Kyle tried to be as comforting as he could.

Eric smiles in suspiciously good nature. "You're spending an awful lot of time with my good friend Kinny lately."

"And?" Craig says, disinterested.

"He's such a fun guy, I'm sure you get to hear him tell all kinds of entertaining stories, huh?"

Craig's eyes narrow, as if he's silently asking Eric what exactly he's getting at. I, myself, am wondering the same… "Eric," I cut in, afraid of what he might let slip. He knows a lot of my dirt, and since he's a shitty person I doubt he'd hesitate to use it to mess with me. "Shut up."

He ignores me, still staring at Craig. He throws an arm around my shoulder, acting buddy-buddy as he says, "Did he tell you about the time he slept with one of our teachers?"

"What?" Craig asks in a deadpan.

"Eric –!" I try again, feeling panicked. He just cuts me off again.

"Well, basically the story goes like this – Kinny slept with one of the teachers," Eric states simply, turning his head to glance at me. "That hot, young bitch we had for English last semester. Isn't that right, Kenny, yah dawg?"

I don't answer. I bite the inside of my mouth and try hard to resist the urge to punch his fat face.

"Right…" Craig says, clearly unconvinced.

"It's true, even ask him."

"Dude," I cut in pleadingly, "Just shut the fuck up."

Eric ignores me yet again, looking over at Craig again and smiling a very smug smile. "Ask him about it if you don't believe me, seriously. You know he's always been a really shitty liar… Or maybe you don't know that. Either way, looks like you just don't know him as well as the rest of us."

Craig raises an eyebrow, glancing over at me as Eric walks off. God dammit! Why does that bastard have to try to ruin every single fucking thing?

"Well?" Craig asks expectantly.

"Well, what?" I ask. I don't say anything, and he lets out a sigh.

"Is it true?" he gives me a dry look.

"I was failing…" I weakly attempt to defend myself.

Craig closes his eyes and shakes his head. "God, you're so disgusting," he says before walking off.

"Why the hell does it even matter to you?" I ask, following after him.

"It doesn't matter to me," he insists. "It's just a fucking low thing to do in general."

"Well, then don't allow it to concern you if you don't personally care," I snap.

"Done," he says before getting lost in a nearby crowd.

I quickly finish the rest of my rum and coke before making my way into the kitchen… Or should I say stumbling?

"Hey, honey," Bebe greets me offhandedly as she mixes herself a drink.

"Wanna make me one of them?" I ask, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

"Sure, sweets," she says. "You okay?"

"I think so," I say.

She just smiles. "Are you sure you need another one?"

"Yers…" I slur.

"I'm going to make you a pretty weak drink, because it doesn't look or sound like you need too much more." Moments later, she takes a seat next to me, placing a drink in front of me and another in front of herself. "Here."

"Thanks," I say.

"So," she starts, placing her hand on the back of my neck and touching the ends of my wavy, blond hair. "How are you?"

"I'm okay, I think," I tell her, taking a sip. "What did you make me?"

"Vodka and lemonade… but mostly lemonade."

"Oh," I take another sip.

"You seem like you're having a bad night," she comments.

"I don't know. Maybe I am…"

"Too drunk to tell?" she chuckles.

"I might be."

"Did you have a fight with a friend?"

"Yeah, I did!" I exclaim. "God, Eric is being such a dick!"

She nods sympathetically. "Yeah, he's good like that."

Bebe allows me to rant nonsense for a while. I don't think she understands a word I'm saying, but she nods along nonetheless. I think she's used to it by now. I should buy her something one of these days as a thank you for putting up with all my shit. I'm also trying damn hard not to say anything about Craig. I don't want him getting even angrier at me.

"Is Eric the one who gave you that bruise?" she asks.

"No," I slur, "tha's my dad."

"Oh," she frowns, eyebrows drawing together and sympathy finding its way across her face.

I just shrug, yawn, and let out a little laugh. "I'm upset," I admit.

She leans forward and wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me into her chest. I close my eyes, soaking up the comfort. "Hands," she warns, pulling my hair when my palms find her tits.

I don't see Craig for the rest of the night. He probably went home. I begin feeling sick a little after midnight and make my way outside so I won't cause a scene. So here I am - hunched over and puking off the balcony behind Token's house. I'm so drunk I can't walk or talk and it's hard to keep my eyes open. This feels worse than the time I puked in his indoor pool.

I spit and drool a bit more after I stop hurling. "Fuckin' hell," I slur, letting out a groan before falling over. "Fuck…" I don't know how long I'm lying there like that, but I feel a hand on my back a little while later, and a voice says, "Come on, idiot. Let me take you home." I don't ask questions and I don't even bother trying to pull myself together because I've been like this so many damn times before I know it won't work. I sit on my knees and wipe my mouth on the sleeve of my sweater. "Take your time," the voice says. I make some nonsense noise as I feel myself being pulled up. "Okay, McCormick, help me out a bit. On the count of three, stand up. One… two… three…"