Disclaimer: Eric Cartman, Stan Marsh, Kenny McCormick, and Kyle Broflovski do not belong to me... They belong to Matt Stone, Trey Parker, and Comedy Central. But Ms. Thompson is mine.

"Fucking fat ass!" I screamed. I glowered at him for a good effect. Eric started to hum his annoying song about my momloudly. I hated him. Hated him. But only when we weren’t safe and hidden away.

Stan smiled at me. My best friend continued our conversation as if the scene between Cartman and I wasn’t unusual. It wasn’t, of course. Almost every day the same thing would happen. Had to pretend that everything between Eric and I was the same. I hated him; he hated me. All was normal.

“Fucking fags,” Eric muttered behind Stan and me. “Why don’t you go get a room and make out, or something?”

Stan turned around and decked the fat boy. I laughed. Eric let out a whimper. I laughed. Stan called Cartman a stupid douche. I laughed; I laughed; I laughed; I laughed. I had too.

Stan boarded the bus first; then me, then Eric, then Kenny. Kenny, the white trash kid, the kid with the never ending sex drive, was wearing his orange hoodie as was usual. We accepted him as long as he didn’t make any moves on us. He toed the line we made; crossed it occasionally. But we put up with him. He was our friend. I knew that he wanted Stan, though.

Stan and I sat on our normal seat towards the back of the bus where the bus driver couldn’t hear us talk about dirty stuff. Cartman and Kenny sat behind us. As was normal.

I could feel butterflies in my stomach. Everything was too normal. Something was gonna pop out of this ordinary paper chain soon. I just hoped that what popped wouldn’t be about Eric and me. But I suppose that this too was normal, for I was afraid that our relationship would become known every single fucking day.

“Look what I got from the store yesterday,” Kenny muttered, his voice muffled by his orange hood.

“What was it this time? Sex with the cash register lady? Or did you just steal it?” Cartman asked him crossly.

“I wish. She had huge tits,” Kenny mumbled with a morose look in his eye.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” the fat boy whined. “Just give it here.” I heard ruffling of pages and knew they were talking about another one of Kenny’s dirty magazines. “Oh sick, man!!” Eric squealed, “It’s gay porn!”

I could hear Kenny’s mischievous chuckle. “Give it back if you don’t enjoy it, fat ass,” I mocked.

“I bet you’d enjoy it, faggot,” he retorted.

“Shut up, Cartman,” Stan snapped.

“Oooh! Defending your little girlfriend, Stan?”

I turned around with a malicious gleam in my eye. I faked a punch. He flinched. “Jealous?”

“Hell yeah,” Kenny said as he stared at Stan’s ass. We all laughed.

I shoved my backpack in my locker. “See you guys later.” First period; I would be alone with Eric. I grabbed the stuff I needed from my locker. He and I walked to Room 20, history with Ms. Thompson, without walking together. I sat down in my seat, and Cartman sat next to me. With practiced ease, he slid a note to me. I love you had been written down on it. I smiled at him. Our secret was safe.

“Broflovski, what is in your hand?” Ms. Thompson demanded, towering over me.

Oh, shit.