Thanks for the support as always! Random night post cuz I know I've been inconsistent with updates. Typically when I write a series I write half in advance before I start publishing. Which I did, but I've been lagging on writing the other half consistently and editing so I've been worried about it catching up.

Anywaysssss so long as there are no pitchforks and torches, I'm still gonna try to keep this weekly.

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"I don't need to talk about it, Wends."

"Clearly someone has to!" Wendy argued, following her boyfriend through school halls. She heard Stan sigh in annoyance over his shoulder as they reached his locker and she frowned, starting to feel like his mother.

"It'll be fine." Stan said, doing his combination and opening the steel door. "It always is."

"Yeah, throwing a mason jar over his head seems like a healthy start to making up."

Stan looked around in worry, shooting his girlfriend a glance. "Would you not say that too loud?"

"Why? Afraid to admit you and your dad have gone batshit?"

"Okay," Stan reeled her in by her arm to keep their discussion low. He put away his books and gathered the ones for next period. "I know last time got out of hand. And the last thing I ever, ever wanted to do is get you in the middle of it.."

"Don't worry about me.." Wendy said. "Stan, I'm worried about you. I'll say it again until I'm blue in the face."

"I don't have much choice.."

"Than to throw glass at him? Clutch your fist every time he speaks?" Wendy gawked. "Stan, please, talk to him. Or your mom. Call a family therapist, just don't keep putting up with this until you do something worse!"

"Wends!" Stan groaned, tossing a book into his locker with a heavy thud. "This shit can't just be brushed over with some bullshit heart-to-heart! My dad has lost himself to this fucking business, don't you get that?"

Wendy let her weight fall to the locker next to Stan's in a clatter. She was exhausted over this and wished she could somehow reach her boyfriend. Before his sanity was completely lost. "What're you gonna do then?"

Stan grabbed his geography book, pausing.

"And don't just say you're gonna leave." Wendy played with the gold chain necklace tucked under her turtleneck, weary of the ring hanging off its end; The constant reminder of an impending answer literally dangling over her heart. "This is not about you and I, this is not about leaving Tegridy and your parents. What are you gonna do."

"..I don't know."

Wendy sighed, it was still a better answer than every 'it's fine' he's given her.

"My dad just drives me up the wall...like my only use is Tegridy.."

Wendy frowned awkwardly. "I can't not agree...my parents are on me the same.."

Stan slowed down in collecting his stuff, thinking the conversation took an unnecessary turn. Wendy had been trying to get him to talk about the poorest shit going on in his life, and within a second they were on her mom and dad. Was it even comparable?

"I get it."

Stan shut his locker hard. "How would you...your parents are Team Harvard all the way.."

He felt her stare off the side of his head, his own eyes starting stubbornly at his locker door. She waited on him to take it back, but she huffed realizing he clearly was in no mood to talk about any of this. He apparently never was.

Stan turned to her as she crossed her arms.

"Huh," Wendy faked a chuckle in anger. "Sorry then.."

"Wendy, I'm sorry, I'm just overworked.." Stan said.

"Geez," Wendy walked past him. "I'll just see you in class.."

"Wends-" Stan tried brushing her shoulder but she flinched in annoyance as she walked away.

In a computer lab that made up the yearbook room, Heidi sat at her usual monitor by the window. Typing up a sophomore's interview piece she'd collected based on the school's menu change this semester. Out of all things she'd spent her time writing for in yearbook, this was probably the dryest project she ever had.

"Kill me," Heidi muttered to her friend across the lab table from her. The redhead typed on his own computer as Kyle looked up at Heidi's very out-of-character statement. "If I have to do another interview on a student complaining there are no more tater tots on the school menu, I'm quitting."

"Why is that yearbook worthy, exactly?"

"It's not.." Heidi said. If she were listened to at all as an editor by the rest of the team, this year's yearbook would be more interesting than dumb cafeteria changes.

Kyle typed faster and heavier, eyes locked on his screen as he unzipped his back at the same time. Pulling out a wad of blue index cards held together by a rubber band.

"What's that?" Heidi asked, looking in between her piece and Kyle.

"I'm trying to think what went wrong with my speech closing.." Kyle undid the band and flipped a blue cue card over another. Blue index cards always stimulated the best with him in presenting. He couldn't explain why, but maybe getting a psych degree eventually would.

Heidi went over her first draft of the interview piece, looking for typos. "Nothing went wrong probably, judges look for different styles in speech. And depending on what they would wanna hear on the topic, maybe."

"I don't think I detailed my argument enough," Kyle clicked a pen, scratching out a point on a card.

Heidi smiled behind the screen. "Focus on your current speech. That one's already done."

"I gotta strategize how to do better based on last term.." Kyle mumbled, face glued to his scribbles and speech notes. "I sent you the draft of my new one, whenever you have the chance to look at it."

"I'll look right now," Heidi said, switching tabs to open her email page. "What d'you have so far?"

"Just my argument and some main points."

She opened the email addressed from Kyle, clicking on the Word Doc where he started piecing together exactly what he was gonna talk about. While she was expecting his topic on censorship in the media, the argument was titled something completely different; 'Karma and The Democratic Score of Getting Even.'

Heidi looked past the screen at him. "What happened to your media censorship topic?"

"I thought," Kyle shrugged. "I dunno, I feel like this appeals more to what's happening now."

Heidi scrolled down the document, a familiar hurt filling her core.

"Like..what's happening in this school and-"

"Kyle," she eased. If she knew him, she knew what he was up to. "I really appreciate what you're doing. You're very sweet. But, I don't need anyone doing anything for me."

"I just feel like...maybe assholes like him need a lesson and-"

"Kyle, don't get wrapped up in it, he's not worth the breath," Heidi closed the tab. "I gotta fight it, myself.."

Kyle knew he had a tendency to get wrapped up in his own resentment and need for payback based on the bruises Cartman has left. That may work for him, but maybe not for Heidi. "What're you gonna do?"

She typed at the keyboard, opening an email page to send Kyle's speech to herself. "Try and move on, I guess..?"

Kyle pushed his cards aside. "I guess it was a long shot, what speech of mine is gonna bring karma to Cartman anyhow?"

Heidi opened the interview piece back up. Sick of bringing up her ex's name, but not gonna take it out on Kyle of all people. "What's gonna bring karma to Eric Cartman, period.."

"Y'know it's Clyde's party, right?" Craig reminded his boyfriend as they sat on the stone wall of the school's ground front near student parking. Craig held his perched knee as Tweek reviewed for a bio test but stopped reviewing the page of his textbook, halting his dangling feet from swinging to meet the warning gaze of his boyfriend.

"Really?" Tweek admitted, adjusting his coat so his butt didn't get soaked from the snow lining their perch. "I..I didn't."

"He's been planning it for months. Gonna be the 'biggest grad part of the century'.." Craig reminded. "I'm sure a few months ago you would've been stoked about going-"

"That's not the issue, Craig. He hasn't changed." The blond dove his nose back down to the lengthy text on his page. Craig's hand crossed Tweek's lap to close the textbook's front and reel his attention back.

"Even if he hasn't, we're not gonna miss it. Right?"

"Since when are you so party animal?"

Craig gazed longingly. Leaving this town may have still been his number one goal, but it didn't help to know he may have to separate from Tweek after all. Not after his boyfriend got his college results early.

"Since I found out you're going to Ohio State.."

Tweek softened, dragging his book to the snow beside him and resting a soft hand on Craig's cheek. "Hey...we knew we both had to start somewhere. It doesn't make a difference."

"Right.."

Tweek kissed his cheek.

"Then can I ask you something?" Craig inquired.

"Yeah."

"Why are you more mad at Clyde than I am?" He took the hand that held his face and interlocked it with his. "I was the one who kept bringing it up before everything blew up. Yet you're more pissed than I ever was."

Tweek knew that. Frankly, he didn't think Craig would care to know why Tweek was more mad after Clyde practically blew them off as a friend. Tweek had kept a grudge for many reasons. Maybe for one, was before Tweek met Craig or Clyde as kids, the two of them were best friends. Inseparable, practically. When they met Tweek in kindergarten, an awkward ball of living nerves, they took him in like they always knew him. With how anti-social Craig was as a kid, it was Clyde even who suggested it.

Everyone always suspected Tweek was gay far earlier than they did Craig. It wasn't until they started dating that people only then realized how deeply closeted Craig was. Clyde was the first to pick up on his friends' budding romance, but was also the first they came out to in general. And despite Clyde's bullshit, superficial, questionably insane social ways, he never batted an eye knowing what they were admitting to him. He offered Craig to stay at his house when Thomas found out and iced his son out for weeks. He walked Tweek home from school to interfere with any bullies who said so much of an out-of-sort word to Tweek, that Clyde would retract so much more harshly in his friend's defense.

Craig may have been Tweek's lifeline, but Clyde was the first regular friend to never turn his back on either of them. To welcome Tweek as one of their own, become his best friend even after knowing Craig for so long, and never so much hating them for turning a trio of friends into a couple and their best friend. Clyde had stuck his neck out for them and made Tweek feel like there was someone else who really knew him other than his boyfriend.

But apparently, it wasn't enough since Clyde would much rather hang out with a stuck-up, sexist, homophobic group of assholes.

"You know.." Tweek muttered. "We were just friends for so long.."

Craig squeezed his hand. "Remember I wouldn't talk in kindergarten until Clyde got me to?"

"I wouldn't stop breaking crayons," Tweek flexed his hand in observance. "It was some anxious twitch before I was diagnosed.."

"So he gave you his wash markers, so you wouldn't keep breaking Crayolas."

"Yeah," Tweek snorted. "The cap still exploded in my mouth when I chewed on it-"

"Craig!"

The moment was over with the immediate growl received from Thomas. Keeping the boys in his line of sight as he slammed his parked car door behind him and Tweek let go of his boyfriend's hand to avoid whatever this fucked-up, crazy man was about to blame them for.

"Dad, that's a yellow zone." Craig decided to snarkily point out. "You can't park-"

"CRAIG."

His son shut his mouth.

"Get in the car, we'll talk on the way home."

"My..my dad was picking us up, actually.." Tweek spoke up, stepping off the wall ledge with Craig. "We're..going to my house to study-"

"Tell Richard we'll have to pass." Thomas warned. "Get in the car, Craig. Now."

"Why? I don't have to go anywhere with you." He crossed his arms.

"Excuse me?"

"Because whatever you're going on about, it's definitely not my fault."

"You took Tricia to a party."

Was that all? Craig arched his brow. "So? Tricia party's more than I do."

"You took her to that kind of party."

"What? The kind that also has non-straight people attending?"

"A little girl does not need to be around that kind of crowd!" Thomas demanded, pointing a sturdy finger to his son's chest. "If you're gonna keep up with shit like that, I want it away from the rest of the family!"

"Little?" Craig laughed in snark, ignoring his boyfriend trying to calm him from behind. "I was much younger than Tricia when I was 'introduced' to the gay scene."

"And you don't need to make such a big deal of it to the rest of our home!"

"None of this would be a big deal if you realized how idiotic you sound!" Craig finally exploded, no longer making fun of his dad. "Jesus, you think a guy who lived through fucking Stonewall would have more compassion than this!"

"We've been through this, Craig! There's a time and place for things, and that doesn't include our house!"

"Like there's a time and place for you being fatass bigot!?"

"Enough!" Thomas' shove to Craig's shoulder made him stumble back into Tweek, cranking Craig's anger up to full volume as he jumped back to his dad with a prepared fist as Tweek grabbed his boyfriend's arm in pleading.

"Craig!"

"TOM!" A running Richard Tweak put the three on halt as he left his own parked car. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"Rick, take your kid. I'll take mine. There clearly needs to be some new boundaries set."

"You-You can't do that..!" Tweek pleaded, looking to his father for help. "Dad!"

"Oh goddammit, Tom. Give the kids some slack."

"They're bringing Tricia into it!" Thomas blamed the two teenagers. Craig kept a clutched fist still in a prepared swing that Tweek held back. "You would know if you had another kid!"

"I only have one son," Richard stepped into Thomas' line of view in front of the boys. "I wouldn't change it."

"Oh for fuck's sake, Rick-"

"It's bad enough you take it out on Craig! But, don't you dare start pulling that on my son!" Richard jabbed a daggered finger at Thomas. "Or we're really gonna start having issues!"

"What does that mean!?"

"If you treat your kid like that, that's your own damn problem!"

"Don't tell me shit about how I treat my kid!"

Craig lugged forward as Tweek gripped his hands like forged metal around his arm. "I'll tell you shit about how you treat your kids!"

"I told you to get in the car!"

"I'm not going ANYWHERE with you!"

"Boys," Richard advised, pointing to his own car. "Get in the back."

"You've had it! You've fucked up as a father, Thomas!" Craig howled. "I hope you really enjoyed it!"

"Craig-!" Tweek could feel his boyfriend shake underneath his almighty armor. Craig's benefit to shatter at every shot from his dad was much more than what met the eye. Tweek saw him cracking more every day and wasn't sure he could just sit by and let it be.

"I'm sorry, but you disappointed me first." Thomas snarled.

"Why do you say shit like that!?" Craig demanded, almost pleading in the depth of his anger. Tweek had no choice but to tear his boyfriend away from the scene when he saw frustrated tears start to choke Craig's throat. "Why!?"

Richard continued to enrage Thomas as Tweek broke his boyfriend away from their angry bubble. Infuriated tears ran down Craig's face though he remained enraged. Slit eyes and red cheeks unmasked in running tears as he clutched his beanie in painful claws of panic and uncontrollable anger.

"Craig, Craig. Look at me!" Tweek ripped his iron hands from his head, holding him by the wrists. "Craig!"

Tweek looked at their battling fathers and knew he had to escape with Craig before his boyfriend had a panic attack. He took his boyfriend by the shoulders in support as they escaped for Richard's car. Craig buried his tears in Tweek's shoulder as a gripping sob finally escaped him.

"He's crashing at Tweek's for a few days." Tolkien assured as he put down a text from the same friend. After being explained to about everything that went down between Craig and his father, he'd rather Craig spend a few days cooling down before he did anything drastic.

"If he needs another place," Kyle offered, sitting next to Kenny across from Tolkien and Stan in the boys' locker room after basketball practice. The school was quiet this late during the day. "My house is always free."

"Mine is too, but.." Stan shrugged. "My dad being an idiot might remind Craig his dad's being an idiot.."

Kenny kept his feet perched on the narrow bench, playing with the shoelaces of his sneakers. "That cancels out my house too, then.."

Kyle looked to his right. "Oh?"

His friend realized maybe it wasn't worth mentioning. "Sorry, we were talking about Craig.."

"Nah, it's cool." Stan blew off. "You okay..?"

"Um," Kenny scratched his hair, reliving getting into yet another two-hour screaming match with his father the night before. "The office may have called my house...to confirm my address info with some of the colleges I applied to..."

"Oh, fuck."

"So, that's been the talk of my house for about a week.."

Kyle shifted forward, trynna read Kenny's dull, mindless face. "Are your parents gonna cancel your school?"

"I don't see how they can.." Kenny reasoned. "If I got in, I planned for a scholarship. I'd rather work for housing than somehow trick my parents into giving me money they don't have. So, my dad's only power right now is guilt-tripping."

"And your mom..?"

"..sobs." Kenny said. "When I make enough money, I'm paying for a therapist for her..'cuz geez.."

"Sorry, Ken.."

He let his legs fall off the bench. "I'm not getting into Caltech or MIT anyway.."

"But, your GPA-"

"It doesn't matter. A thousand kids could have a perfect GPA and they'll still pick the few they think are right for the school. That includes performance, school ethic, probably even home life and look where that's gotten me!"

Stan undid his laces, slowly deciding to change out of his practice uniform. "Kenny, c'mon. A place like Caltech looks past that bullshit."

"This whole town treats my parents like they're the gutter rats of South Park.." Kenny reminded lowly. "I get it, our family doesn't look that different from some of the really racist and bigot people out there if you put them side by side. Yet the person who actually is racist is Cartman, who's probably gonna be playing football for Ohio State with the money he does have!"

His friends decided not to try and fix it, knowing they couldn't see through the same eyes of growing up with such low income. The McCormicks were nice people, but what did people care when throwing stereotypes around?

"The point of those schools is picking a handful of unique students, right?" Tolkien questioned.

"I'm not special for having no money.."

"Tolkien.." Stan warned.

"But you did an instrumentation physics project for a sophomore research assignment," Tolkien reminded, getting Kenny to raise doubtful eyes his way. "You trained your pet street possum to deliver bolts and nails, and Playboys from the garage to your bedroom window."

"Yeah, but-"

"And you soak up all this town's hateful bullshit," his friend continued. "And dust it off, coming out without a scratch on you."

Kenny rubbed his shoes together, both Tolkien's encouragement and his father's discouragement battling in his mind's eye.

"Sounds pretty unique, to me."

Heidi closed her bedroom door by the hip, taking a sip of her second glass of red wine she'd taken from her mom's bottle. She cozied up in her oversized sweater and pajama shorts, feeling like she needed the best 'spoil yourself' therapy. With her bath running, she was hoping to save some of this wine for the tub.

She took her phone out from her hoodie's kangaroo pocket, connecting to her desk's Bluetooth speaker to play a soothing playlist off of Spotify to dull out her parents' usual fighting downstairs. If things went well, and they didn't escalate the fighting to upstairs, she could have the evening to take her mind off things.

Her soothing soundtrack was disrupted by the 'Incoming Call' her phone notified her with. Followed by 'Your Crazy Ex...is Trying to Contact You' announced by the Bluetooth built-in voice. She took out the flashing screen of her phone and the same nauseating contact photo she still had of Eric. Making her cringe internally at her own taste. This was the millionth time he'd tried calling her after their very public breakup. From Eric's words in a text, he wanted to give Heidi the 'time to reel down from embarrassment.' To rethink it all through since things ended so quickly and so drastically.

As if she didn't see him cozied with Jessica against a locker yesterday.

She was glad she put her wine down in time, or she may have thrown the glass too. She launched her phone against her pillow with a screech she felt like she'd been hiding since the fourth grade.

Heidi poured the rest of her wine down her raw throat, done with feeling sorry for herself and for constantly feeling like she was gonna cry. She rid of the empty glass on her desk and decided to take a seat at her self-made vanity. Once an elementary school desk she DIY'ed into a cute little corner she could do her self-care at with a round mirror and pink sitting stool. Her mirror was lined with photos of her and her friends and happy reminders to keep positive throughout her days. Mostly crafted notes, or quotes of her favorite books, or even yearbook pieces she was proud of.

She stared with deep anger into one of her and Eric, ripping the photo off. As well as a bubble-letter paper strip reminding her to 'Look to the Positive' as she took both and ripped them to pieces. Throwing them into a nearby trash.

Heidi shifted her seat forward, staring wide-eyed and furiously into the mirror. Her heart felt like it snapped, but this time not of heartache. This time of a ticking timebomb that Cartman kept setting over and over before he eventually got an explosion out of Heidi. But now, Heidi's explosion wasn't gonna be wasted on that sorry piece of shit she kept around for so many years. This time she was gonna go up in flames by her own standards.

She palmed her light blue wicker makeup basket. Her hand grazed her makeup options and plucked a sharpened black eyeliner pencil. Popping the cap off as she leaned it towards her eye and looked in the mirror carefully.

Heidi filled in the waterline with a dark black, then drew the pencil along her top lid for a thick-lined look. Ending the two ends in a double wing so sharp it could kill a man. She filled her empty lashes with a blackish-blue mascara she rarely used, and searched through her kit for the perfect red. She leaned closer to her vanity, filling her lips with blood red and smacking them in a cupid's bow finish. Snapping the cap closed as, in a rare dangerous look, she licked her teeth as if flirting with her own image.

Heidi Turner was a fucking pushover ray of sunshine, and she was done with it.

To be continued...