South Park: Senior Year

2. Pens

Another fucking day.
Stan turns off his blaring alarm but doesn't make himself get up yet. He stares down the clock on his phone, waiting for the minute to pass. Then he waits for the next. Each minute that passes, he tells himself he'll get up after the next one, but he doesn't. He continues to stare. Just one more minute. One minute passes. Two minutes pass. Three minutes pass. He stays still.
He must've fallen asleep while watching the numbers change because thirty minutes later his mom is shaking him awake.
"Come on, Stanley. I'm not letting you skip another day. Get up." She says sternly while throwing open his curtains and flipping on the light switch.
Stan groans, pulling his comforter over his head, successfully blocking out the light from his tired and not yet adjusted eyes.
"Stanley Marsh." his mom tugs the blanket down. "Don't make me get your dad. Or Shelly." She then leaves.
"Fuck." Stan mutters, sitting up. He looks around his room with groggy, blurry vision. His head is throbbing and his mouth is dry as sand. Probably thanks to the several cans of his Dad's beer he had chugged the night before. There was no drinking occasion, other than his regular refusal to sleep. Staying up until 3:00 am drinking was a much better alternative to causing the next day to arrive sooner.
After some reluctant debate, Stan gets up and exits his room. He enters the kitchen where his dad is cooking up some crap and Shelly is reading at the table while eating toast. Stan grabs a pop tart, not bothering to toast it or even eat it in the kitchen. Dad and Shelly are the last people he wants to deal with this early in the morning.
He finishes his pop tart in his room before slipping on some worn-out jeans and a, probably unwashed, red hoodie he picked up from his floor.
After changing, he flops back down on his bed, checking his phone. He's not sure for what. Nobody texts him other than his band if he's late for rehearsals. He'd broke up with Wendy for the final time sophomore year and the only other person he'd talk to was Kyle. That's a longer story he'd rather not even think about.
Bored of waiting around, and knowing he'll get his ass kicked if he doesn't go to school today, he brushes his teeth, grabs his practically empty backpack, and leaves for the bus stop.
The sounds of morning birds and the crunch of snow beneath his feet fill the air. A few people are outside, clearing their driveways, but most are probably still asleep.
Once the yellow crossing sign that marks the bus stop comes into view, Stan slips on his bulky, sound-canceling headphones. His mom had gotten them a few years back after he'd been diagnosed with Aspergers by an actual doctor. She said it would help with focusing on his schoolwork while in class or something like that, but the teachers never allowed him to wear them so he just used them as normal headphones. Anytime he wasn't in class they were on, blasting Slipknot or The Front Bottoms or Muse.
Only Cartman and Kenny are there when he steps up to the stop. They nod a hello to him to which he returns. They don't all talk as much as they used to, but Stan thinks they're still his friends. They still sit together at lunch and play World of Warcraft after school sometimes but they just don't hang out as much. Ever since sophomore year, things have just been different.
Stan debates taking off his headphones to join in on whatever the two of them are talking about, but then he sees Kyle approaching and decides against it. Talking to Kenny and Cartman and not with Kyle while he's standing right there would be hell for all of them.
Stan feels Kyle's eyes on him, but his own eyes are glued to the snow-covered sidewalk. Just avoid and ignore and the problem will fade away. That works with most things in Stan's life, eventually, but the Kyle Situation doesn't seem to follow those rules. It just lingers, heavy in the air like gas. Everyone can feel the tension and discomfort, yet no one speaks up.
Luckily, the bus arrives, saving everyone from the unbreathable air. Stan steps on after Kyle and takes the seat in the very back. The goth kids usually sit back here and would nag anyone else who entered their space, but Stan is friends -well, as close to friends with them as he can be with cynical nihilists- and they never say anything to him. They even offer him a cigarette on the rare occasion that he's without his headphones. He never accepts it, as smoking nicotine isn't his thing, but he appreciates the peace offering.
He closes his eyes as the bus starts moving again, hoping to have just a few more minutes of sleep before having to deal with the bullshit that is high school.
He manages to get his rest, and he's woken by a slight nudge from Micheal when they arrive, but he only feels more tired.
He nearly slips down the stairs of the bus as he exits, earning some snickers from kids around him. He shrugs it off, silently hoping Kyle hadn't seen him nearly bust his ass. Not that it'd really matter if he did, it's not like anything Stan does means anything to him anymore. If it did, he'd at least ask if he was okay, like he used to.
"You okay?" Kyle's voice from behind him nearly makes Stan shit himself.
"Fuck. Yeah. Fine." Stan mutters, before walking much faster to avoid him, his twisted ankle painfully arguing against it.
What cliche bullshit was that? There's no way he was gonna converse with Kyle again just because he slipped down some wet stairs. Kyle was probably just being nice like he always is. He probably didn't even know it was Stan. If he did, it probably wasn't a genuine question. He was mocking him for almost falling. Yeah. What a dick.

Stan raises his sleepy head from the desk as the lady teacher he can't even remember the name of slaps his desk with a ruler.
"Am I boring you, Marsh?" She says in the most annoying tone.
You're boring everyone. "No, sorry."
The teacher returns to her lesson, deciding she'd humiliated him enough.
Kenny, sitting at the desk next to him, pokes his arm with his pointer finger. Stan looks at him.
"You okay? You hardly show up anymore and when you do, you sleep through every class." He points out what Stan already knows.
"I'm fine. I just had a late night is all. I wasn't even planning on coming today." Stan responds, his voice quiet so he doesn't get yelled at. Again.
"Why not? Do you ever plan on coming to school?" Kenny chuckles.
"Not really. This place sucks." Stan rests his head on the desk, his tiredness taking over again.
"Wanna skip next period with me and Cartman?"
Stan turns his head again to look at Kenny. "And do what?"
Kenny smirks and gestures to his hoodie pocket. Stan looks down to see the tip of a weed pen sticking out.
Stan grins. "Oh, hell yeah. How did you even get that?" Stan's dad won't sell to minors, surprisingly. Stan thinks he was getting sued by parents finding their kids weed stashes.
"Kevin usually gets it for me. If I pay him, obviously." Kenny responds. "I have two pens, so you'll have to share with Cartman."
"Deal." Stan says, sitting up. He finally has something to look forward to.
You'd think he'd have easy access to weed whenever he wanted since he lives on a damn weed farm, but his mom is very strict about it being in the house. Stan would have to go to the barn to get it, but his dad is always in there and he'd rather not have to interact with him. He's satisfied with the beer that is allowed in the house. No one even knows he drinks it. He could take a whole case and his Dad would just assume he got too drunk and drank it all himself. It's extremely believable too, his mom doesn't suspect Stan at all. He has a feeling Shelly is suspicious though, but she never talks to Mom or Dad about anything so he's not worried about being ratted out, though he does wonder what she thinks of it. He knows she hates marijuana and alcohol with a passion. Stan used to be the same way.