Chapter Two: Find Another Route

Chapter Track: I Told You I Was Mean by Elle King

"So I finished editing that stupid poem thing," Craig says, pulling his laptop from his desk onto his bed. He taps on the mousepad for a moment to wake it up, watching their poem bloom back to life. "I know I've definitely said talked about this before, about how much I hate poetry. Even reading someone else's poetry is aggravating to me. I can muddle through it to pass a test, but I'd never pick up a book of it in a million years. It just seems so... Fake, I guess. But, I actually kind of like it. Ours, I mean. I'm not sure if it's because I worked so hard on it with Kenny, or if it's because it's actually not that bad... I like it a lot." He shrugs to the screen, saving the document to a flash drive.

"I have to go all the way downstairs to print it, but Tweek wanted to hang out so I have no excuse to stay cooped up in my room all day today. I guess I'll just stay cooped up in Tweek's shop."

Tweek has worked at their local Harbucks since they were all thirteen, when his parents bought the shop back. Since then, they leave him to manage this store while they tend to the main one in Denver. Which essentially just means that Craig is allowed to loiter there as long as he damn well pleased.

"I've gotta go check what time the dinner thing is with mom before I leave. Over and out." Craig says his usual goodbye and reaches over to his camera, clicking it off and popping out the memory card. After hiding it properly and getting himself dressed, he jogs downstairs and prints the poem, sticking it into his backpack before locations his mom in the kitchen. She's sitting at the nook with a magazine laid in front of her and her phone held to her ear.

"Hey mom," he says, pulling out the seat beside her. She holds up her hand, pointing to her cell phone and mouthing "one minute." Craig relaxes into the chair while he waits.

When he first moved to South Park, it was only him an his dad. His birth mom had left them right after he was born, and he only sees her about once a year, on Valentine's Day. They moved from Brooklyn to South Park to live with his dad's brother and his family, who now live across the street from them. When his dad first met Laura, when he was five years old, he didn't want a different mom; not that his was really one to begin with, but it was all he knew. They had Ruby soon after they got married, which only pissed Craig off even more. Now, almost twelve years later, he's grateful they got married. She's the mom he never knew he wanted.

"Yeah, mom, I know," She says, laughing and rolling her eyes. "Mmhm, of course. Gotta go. Love you." She pulls the phone away from her ear, tapping the screen and turning to Craig. "What is it, honey?"

"I'm going to hang out with Tweek. What time are we going to dinner?" He asks, toying with the zipper of his sweatshirt. Every Saturday, the whole Tucker family goes to their favorite diner for dinner. That means everyone; aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents.

"Well, we usually go around six, but Uncle Eddie has a doctor's appointment so we have to go a little later. So be back here by six thirty the latest." Mom says, smoothing the corner of her magazine down to save her place as she stands to make herself a cup of coffee. "Don't forget, we have to pick up grandma this week. Her car is in the shop."

"Okay, I won't be long." Craig says, hopping off his chair. He presses a quick kiss to her cheek before walking outside, pulling his phone out of his back pocket to text Tweek that he's on his way.

He pulls in a deep breath of autumn air, watching as a gust of wind blows some colorful leaves in a circle. He's always loved the fall; it's been his favorite since he was a kid. He remembers being in New York in October, walking along the boardwalk with his dad. They used to sell all kinds of fair foods there; pretzels, corn dogs, ices, funnel cakes. All kinds of things like that. But his favorite was always the caramel apples they had because some of them would be decorated as jack o'lanterns for Halloween, which of course is why he'd beg for them all the time. Those ones were special, they only came around once a year.

"Hey, it's Craig Fucker." The raven is startled out of his thoughts by a teasing voice, sending shivers down his spine. He turns his attention to the source of the sound, the color draining from his face.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He forgot that assholes hang out around Stark's on the weekends, right after football practice ends. Which would be only an hour before now. Stan Marsh saunters over to him from his spot on a bench beside the lake, three of his football monkeys trailing behind him. The kid wasn't right after his parents split for good a few years back, and Craig can already smell the booze on his breath. It's only one o'clock in the afternoon, but he doesn't dare point that out.

"What do you want, Marsh." Craig mumbles, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. Stan rolls his eyes and shoves Craig hard in the shoulder, sending him stumbling backwards. Stan is much bigger than Craig, trumping him in both height and weight. Craig isn't exactly short and scrawny, but he feels like a dwarf next to Stan.

"I want you to shut your goddamn mouth, asshole." Stan hisses, shoving him again. This time Craig stumbles over a rut in the ground and lands hard in the dirt, kicking up a plume of dust. Stan sneers above him, cracking his knuckles.

"Get off your high fucking horse, Marsh." Craig spits, pushing himself off the ground. "You don't own this place. And neither do your blind little worshippers." Stan's eyes narrow and he folds his arms over his chest, inching closer and closer to Craig.

"My 'blind little worshippers' could kick your ass up and down the street, so I'd watch your mouth." Stan scoffs, his friends chuckling from behind him. God, this is like some terrible movie scene; this time, though, Craig isn't going to be the helpless nerd, the damsel in distress. He backs up a step, nearly slipping on the muddy shore of the lake. A light goes off in Stan's mind and he exchanges a glance with one of his friends, a sinister sneer pulling over his face.

"Maybe you'd learn to keep away from here if you went for a little dip."

At this, his three friends swarm Craig and pick him up by his arms and legs, dragging him over to the edge of the water. Craig kicks and yells, grabbing at them to try and get away. Stan laughs as he watches, joining them all by the water's edge.

"Let me go, you fuckers!" Craig shouts, thrashing and clawing at their sleeves. Stan rolls his eyes, grabbing the front of Craig's sweatshirt and shoving him under the surface. His glasses and hat slide off of him, sinking to the bottom. Water floods Craig's eyes and nose, bubbles spewing from his mouth. He feels himself beginning to clog with water as Stan brings him back up for air, his hair falling into his eyes. Then he's under the surface once more, sputtering and trying to heave air into his body. This only draws more water into his lungs, his eyes blurring and his nose burning. He can feel himself getting lightheaded, lights flashing in the corners of his eyes as he's held under the water. Stan moves his free hand and locks it around Craig's throat, further cutting his air supply. The bubbles slowly begin to stop rising as Craig closes his eyes, his grip loosening by the second.

Suddenly the light is blinding Craig as he's dropped on his ass, choking and spitting water into the grass. His ears are blocked and his eyes are blurry, but he can hear someone screaming and yelling. He's absolutely soaked. His whole chest was submerged, and every time they brought him up for made water splash onto everything else.

"What the fuck were you doing!? You could have killed him!" Kenny's voice breaks through Craig's fog and he looks around, confused. There he is, though, the sun casting a golden halo around his hair. Stan says something under his breath and stalks down the road, his goons following close behind. At once, Kenny is at his side, his hands hovering just above Craig's shoulders; like he's afraid that if he touched him, he'll shatter like glass. "You okay, dude?"

"Fine." Craig spits, still coughing as he paws around for his glasses and hat in the pond. He rushes to wipe the water from the lenses, squeezing his hat out as he stumbles to his feet. "Fuck off. I don't need you to take care of me." Kenny looks at him, silent.

Fuck. He can't go home like this. A bruise is already forming under his skin where Stan had a hold on him, and he's soaking wet. He doesn't have an excuse for this one. He chokes into his arm, wiping water from his face. At least he knows Tweek keeps a spare set of clothes at the shop for when he spills on himself.

"Is.. Is this what you meant yesterday? In class?" Kenny asks, his voice quiet. Craig freezes, his nails digging into the fabric. "..does this happen often, Craig?"

"Nothing. It's nothing you need to worry about." Craig says, turning on his heel and walking away. He needs to get away. Like hell he's going to let himself crack in front of Kenny goddamn McCormick.

By the time Craig reaches the Harbucks on Main Street, he's chilled to the bone, his teeth chattering from the cool autumn wind. Tweek freaks out and grabs him a clean shirt; thankfully, his jeans and everything are pretty okay. His ass is covered in dust, but that's an easy fix.

"Christ, Craig!" Tweek worries his lower lip, rolling it between his teeth in nervousness. "What the hell did you do!? It's w-way too cold to go swimming, man!" Craig can't help but smile at that, pulling his wet shirt over his head.

"Yeah, Tweek," he starts, the sarcasm in his tone clear. "I took a dive into Stark's and chickened out halfway." He hangs his sopping clothes over the back of one of the plastic chairs surrounding a small break table, wrapping a towel around his shoulders to block out the chill in the air. Tweek always keeps it freezing in the shop, no matter what the weather is like outside. The blonde hands his friend a clean shirt, leaning closer to examine his neck.

"W-Was it Stan again?" He asks quietly, unconsciously fiddling with the bandaids wound around his fingers. Craig won't meet his eye, looking everywhere but Tweek. "Craig, you c-can't let this keep happening. And it's been happening more and m-more."

"I'm not telling anyone about this." Craig says firmly, tugging the shirt on over his hair. He combs his fingers through it, shaking some of the water onto the towel draped over his shoulders. "It's not even that bad. And I can handle it on my own." Tweek sighs, having heard this a thousand and one times.

It wasn't always like this. With Stan. He and Craig used to be pretty good friends; everyone was, before high school. They went from being in this tiny elementary school to this tiny middle school, then they were smacked with a huge high school. Park County High combines the four surrounding towns: South Park, North Park, East Park and West park. On their own they're not that crowded, but put together it's massive. Everyone seemed to drift to their own corner, including the kids Craig grew up with. Thankfully, though, he's still close with the friends he had when he was a kid. Stan wasn't that lucky, and when his parents split for good when he was a freshman it really messed him up. He devoted his life to football and, apparently, beating the shit out of Craig.

"Can I at least g-get the full story?" Tweek asks, sinking into the seat beside Craig. The raven ponders this for a moment, running his piercing along the insides of his teeth. Craig relays everything that went on, from the moment he left his house to the shouting match between him and Stan to the little dip he took in Stark's.

"But, the weirdest part is who actually helped me out." Craig says softly, rubbing behind his ears with the towel. Tweek quirks a blonde eyebrow, fiddling with the apron's string around his waist. "Kenny. Kenny McCormick." Tweek's eyes nearly fall out of his head.

"W-What? What the hell was he doing there? Why t-the hell did he help you?"

"I have no idea, dude. One second I was, like, drowning and the next I heard him screaming and yelling at Stan. Calling him crazy and saying he was going to kill me."

"But.. He is crazy and h-he was going to kill you." Tweek points out, his expression flat. Craig rolls his eyes, looking down at the table.

"Don't be so dramatic. I don't think it would have gone that far..."

"F-First of all, I'm an actor. I'm supposed to be dramatic. And second of all, Craig, Stan is c-certifiably insane. I-It's a wonder he hasn't been kicked off the football team. Hell, I-it's a wonder he hasn't been committed." Tweek says, his brown eyes serious and firm. Craig toys with his fingers, picking at his thumbnail. Tweek sighs, opening his mouth to speak before Craig interrupts him.

"Can we just drop this now? Please? I'm soaking wet and I'm fucking exhausted, and I have the dinner thing tonight so I can't just go home and sleep- Oh, fuck. The dinner." Craig digs the heels of his hands into his eyes and stands, leaning on the table. He walks into the staff bathroom to examine his neck, his shoulders sinking when he sees the bruised skin just below his jaw. "My mom is going to freak out when she sees this!"

Tweek walks in behind him, whistling when he sees the thick line on his friend's neck. "That's one hell of a b-bruise, dude. Maybe Red can help you? Or Ruby? They both like to wear makeup, right?"

"Good idea. Except Red is pale as shit so it'll look stupid, and Ruby wouldn't lend me her good concealer if I paid her a million dollars and sacrificed someone to the gods on her behalf."

"Oh!" Tweek shouts, smiling widely. "I have an idea. Bebe's mom sells makeup, so she'll definitely have the right color for you. I'll t-text her to come here." He scoots out of the bathroom, moving to the main part of the store to retrieve his phone. Craig can't help but smile, scoffing and rolling his eyes. Tweek and Bebe have been together for about three years, since they started high school. Once the thing about Craig and Tweek being a couple died away, the blonde finally mustered up the courage to ask her out. Any chance Tweek has to bring his girlfriend into something, he'll take it. And, thankfully, Bebe is pretty awesome to hang around. Craig kinda ships them, and he's not the only one out of their friends to do so.

After a little while, Craig makes himself his favorite coffee- a caramel macchiato- and settles back in his seat while Tweek tends to a small band of customers that've arrived for the late afternoon rush. the blonde has said that Bebe was just going to gather some supplies and come over, so Craig estimates it to be about twenty or so minutes before she gets there. He fiddles around on his phone and listens to some music while he waits, drinking his coffee in a weak attempt to get his mind off things.

Tweek is right. It has been happening more and more, and he should tell someone about it. But.. He doesn't want to. This is by far the worst thing Stan has done to him, and the only thing that made him actually nervous. He chews on his nail, sighing as he rubs the knots out of his shoulders.

"It's that bad..?" Bebe asks, making Craig jump. She appears in the doorway of the staff room, a makeup case in one hand and her black cat-eye sunglasses in the other. Her red pea coat is buttoned up to her neck, a gray scarf spilling out from under it. She wears a curious and understanding expression, her deep red lips pressed into a line as she observes him. Since she and Tweek began dating, she developed a soft spot for Craig quickly; sure, he can seem a bit calloused at first glance, but he's really just a softie once she got to know him.

Blinking, Craig lowers his hand to his lap. "What do you mean..?"

"Please," Bebe mutters, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she sets her bag on the table. She pulls the scarf from around her neck and leans a bit closer to Craig to inspect the damage. "You bite your nails when you're nervous. You're not fooling anyone."

"Can you fix it, at least?" Craig asks, feeling impatient. He needs to know if he should invest in a turtle neck sweater, or maybe a thick scarf or something. Bebe nods, already rummaging through the makeup she brought.

"Of course i can. I'm a miracle worker. It'll be just like covering the dark spots under Tweek's eyes for picture day."

"That's how he does it?" Craig is constantly amazed at how Tweek can take better pictures than him every single time when he looks like he just rolled out of bed every other day of the year. He has a professional makeup artist at his fingertips.

"Hey," Tweek mutters from the doorway, frowning as he joins them at the table. "That was our secret."

"Oh, cry me a river," Bebe says, rolling her eyes. Tweek presses a kiss to the top of her head and a smile blooms over her face as she elbows him away. "Leave me alone. I have to work. And so do you; I just heard the bell."

Craig spends the next twenty minutes or so trying not to move his neck, as Bebe said it would screw up the makeup. By the time they're finished it looks as though nothing happened to him at all, and Bebe was sure to use a setting spray to ensure its longevity.

"And you're sure it won't totally suck?" Craig asks for what feels like the millionth time. Bebe folds her arms over her chest, sinking into one hip.

"How the hell do you think I look so goddamn amazing all the time? I use makeup. And guess what: I wear it for much longer than a few hours, dude. You'll be fine." She says, confident. Craig nods, looking himself over in Bebe's mirror. "Just don't touch it too much, and when you get home wash it off with soap and water."

"Thanks, Bebe."

"No problem, sweetie."

"The dinner thing went okay," Craig starts, his gray eyes trained on the red light blinking at him from the stack of books. "No one saw my neck, and if they did they didn't say anything about it. I'm not really sure what I'm going to do about it for school, though. I don't want to ask Bebe to fix everything. It would take too long, and I'm not even that conscious in the morning; I'm not sure I'd e able to sit still for that long. Maybe it'll be good enough to just wear a hoodie to school by Monday.

"Dad was late. Again. This is the fifth week in a row that he is. Mom's getting worried." Craig's father is hardly on time for the Saturday night dinners, but he has to work an hour away in Boulder so no one has thought much of it for a long time. Lately, though, he's been coming later and later. "I'm afraid it's going to get bad with him again. I really, really don't want that to happen."

The raven stares at the lens for a few seconds, his shoulders slumped and his eyes tired. He washed off the makeup in the shower, and the whole bottom portion of his neck is blotchy with black and blues. There's a few scattered ones on his wrists and arms that he discovered while he was showering, from where the football guys had a hold on him, but those were hidden by his sleeves anyway. Things like that are never hard to hide.

"What I really don't get is Kenny. I don't get why he was there at the perfect time, why he decided to help me. I mean, Stan has been his friend for a long time, right? A little part of me thought he would have joined in, but.. I guess I was wrong? I'm not sure. I just hope to god he doesn't keep bugging me about what happened. That would be the worst." Craig pulls his hat off of his hair and rubs it between his forefinger and his thumb, the worn blue yarn soft with age.

"I've gotta go now. It's getting late anyway. Over and out."