Kenny wasn’t sure if high school was any better than elementary. South park is south park, the bitter cold that never seems to fully go away, the rednecks that sneer at anyone a little different. It’s annoying but it’s not like home is any better. The only good thing at home was Karen, but sometimes he couldn’t stand to be around his drunk dad for another second.

But in high school, he met you. New girl, weird but in a good way. Misunderstood in all the same ways he was. Not that anyone else would ever understand, ever care. Bunch of assholes, of course.

Sometimes, he would sneak out and go over to your house with pint of vodka that he stole from his dad. Sometimes he would run his fingers over the scars on your wrists. Or sit behind the school and rest his head in your lap while he smokes a cigarette. Nobody got him like you did, nobody would listen like you did.

Red was throwing another party, something about her parents leaving for the weekend. You said you would be there, said you were ‘helping her’ set up. Not that he cared, it was a chance to get drunk and maybe even get laid. He could go a night without following you around.

He underestimates the amount of people there, the music mixed with the loud obnoxious sound of Cartman’s whining. He goes to get a drink at one point, he doesn’t remember when. The alcohol tastes like shit, but the more that goes down, the less he cares.

He finds himself dancing with a girl— who he can’t remember the name of for the life of him— and, despite himself, he thinks about you. He thinks about how much more he’d rather be with you, getting high and giggly in your room. Together away from all the assholes from this piece of shit town.