Operation: KYLE

28

⚠️ TW: mentions of p0řn, slurs, swearing

By the time I threw a glance at the whiteboard, mister Sukondeece was already erasing the words written in black marker with a board eraser in a rush. I opened my mouth to say something as I raised my hand half-way in the air, but I quickly closed it back, slowly lowering my arm. Mister Sukondeece has been acting all petty this entire week, and we didn't really know the exact reason why– we all just silently concluded that he was fed up with the 'deez nuts' jokes as a class.

I knit my eyebrows together. I wasn't even finished copying that... While thinking this, I rested my cheek on the hand that I wasn't writing with irritatedly. What's the point in copying if he's not letting us have a chance to write the words down?

Casting down my lashes, I looked down at my blue pencil with a nonchalant face, and began twirling it between my fingers. I casually whirled the pencil around, and around even more, to the point it was pirouetting, like a ring around Saturn.

"You're pretty good at that." A familiar voice soon made its way in to my ears in a soft hum, resulting in me breaking out of my trance. I stopped spinning my pencil, and looked to my left. There I found Kenny awake, facing me with a bored expression, his head almost leaning against his arm.

Just a few moments ago, he was sleeping soundly with his arms shielding his face to block the sunlight coming from my side. He's got dark, faded circles under his indigo eyes, but the sunbeam outside shone brightly through the windows of the classroom, enhancing Kenny's features.

"Oh. Thanks." "How did you do that?" He asks quietly, his eyes flickering at me, and the pencil. I blinked my eyes, and turned my head forward to sneak a glimpse of mister Sukondeece's back, only to find his concentration on writing on the whiteboard unwavered. Keeping my gaze on his wide shoulders, I leaned towards Kenny within a close distance, then drew my hand, and pencil near.

Once Kenny laid his eyes on my pencil, I held it loosely between my thumb, and index finger, flipped the pencil upwards, and unclasped it from my grip. When the pencil went spiraling in the air, I positioned my other fingers to catch it as it fell, and secured it with my middle, and ring fingers in a swift motion. I repeated the motion before the movement hurried faster as if it were dancing.

Kenny 'ooo's in amazement, and silently claps his fingertips, trying to keep down, but show his awe at the same time. Feeling pleased with a smile engulfing my face, I tried different techniques that I learned from watching mom while Kenny monitored every method I used.

Mom is also good at this kind of thing, she does it sometimes when her head is in the clouds with adult stuff. She would flip some pen of her's that we were not allowed to touch in the air, and catch it, then whirl the pen around with her fingers, like a never-ending rolling wheel. I found it so impressive, that one day, I decided to copy whatever tactic she used with her fingers. And, half of the time, I don't think she even realizes she's doing it.

"What are you fags doing?" Cartman's annoying voice snaps my attention away from my pencil, the thing now balanced on my index finger as it circled around. I throw a sigh out of my mouth, not wanting to look up, but if I didn't, Cartman would cause a commotion, and bother me non-stop. And, what irritates me of all, is that this won't be the worst case scenario.

Reluctantly raising my head with wrinkled brows, a head of Cartman entered my sight, his fat ass facing us, instead of the board in front of him. Normally, Cartman would– unfortunately– be sitting behind me, but since today's lesson was a partnering session, we had to pair up with someone close to us.