South Park: Dragging Me Down

Hurting

This is... odd.

Pip hugged his knees as he took in his surroundings. He was sitting in the middle of the blanket, the goth kids scattered around him - all of whom were smoking and reciting poetry. He was extremely uncomfortable and felt out of place but they didn't seem to want him to leave yet.

Was that good?

He picked at the frilled cuffs of his shirt sleeves which were poking out of his blazer and pondered his outfit. This was a completely new look for him. He didn't really mind it but he missed his red and blue outfit already. He sighed, trying not to make his discomfort seem too obvious.

What am I doing? This is crazy! I can't wear this. I'll taint it!

"You good there, limey?" Michael asked, sensing the Brit's inner turmoil.

"I-I need the bathroom." Pip forced out, giving him an incredibly shy look.

Michael gave him an empty stare. "If you're using that as an excuse to leave because you think you're weird or something then I'm afraid you'll have to return those clothes to Henrietta and sit out the rest of the day stark bollock naked. I'm sure you don't want that."

"I-I don't!" Pip squeaked, covering his red face. "I just don't want to bother you."

"You're not bothering us." Pete inputted, painting his nails black. "You're quiet."

"O-Oh!"

"And you can stop being so surprised by everything too, you dandy. We're not here to harm you so quit being on edge - your flinching is beginning to annoy me now." Henrietta warned.

Pip gulped.

"So read some poetry and stop moping about." She threw her poetry book at Pip, hitting him square in the chest.

Pip caught the book and bowed his head in thanks, opening it. He stared at the first page and attempted to absorb the poems but none of the words were sinking in. His mind was a completely jumbled mess - confused thoughts spewing left, right and centre.

I can't, I can't do this! They're being so nice but this is weird I feel so out of place here and it's awful why are they being nice to me because I've never even really spoke to them before are they tricking me? I have to get out of here, I have to get out of here!

"-so I told her to go to hell." Pip zoned back into the goths' conversation to hear the end of Henrietta's anecdote.

"Nice."

"Well deserving if you ask me."

"That's what I said." huffed Henrietta. "Fucking wannabe assholes trying to ruin my life. I hate them."

"Same."

"Same."

"Same."

"What do you think, limey?"

Pip blinked. Was he a part of this conversation too? He didn't understand how groups worked. He didn't like them. Often their members ganged up on him and because there was generally more than one person in a group to beat on him it was not a fun experience at all. Groups were sucky at best.

"P-Pardon?" Pip asked, not hearing what had been said.

Michael rolled his eyes, "There you go again, zoning out. Do you ever pay attention?" he ran his hand through his black curls.

"I-I'm sorry." he bowed his head. "Not many people care about my attention."

Michael could feel some sort of hurt rising up in his chest. The British kid was making him feel sympathetic? Fuck off. More like, PATHETIC. None of the fuckers at the school had ever made him feel this way before aside his kin, so this was awry. He hardly even knew the kid and he wasn't even a goth to make up for it. Sure he was a nonconformist, but... It was so fucking weird, man. Lame, too. The kid wasn't anything special, was he?