Don't Tread on Me

Forced into camp, Kyle is bunked with the person he least expected. The tension rises to breaking point, but Kyle has a hard time deciding whether it's for better or worse. Kyman.

If I owned South Park, it would be completely gay with drama and sex.

Don't You Tread On Me

Chapter One: Fuck You Very Much



I really hate the tenth grade.

It's the year you feel lost, like your just floating around in the hallways contemplating who you really are.

I have felt like this, since half way through the year. My relationships with people has toppled just a bit, but my performance has gone downhill. Way downhill.

I'm not sure why, I just don't care as much as I used to in elementary and middle school. I think that maybe I just don't want to listen to my Mom's ranting anymore. I always feel like a caged Jew, my mother occasionally whipping against the bars and yelling at me for this and that. Recently, I've been getting trampled with my teachers and their questions of concern, asking me if everything at home is alright. I always answer with the same thing.

"Yes, it's fine, just some family problems I have to deal with." And they believe me every time because they know I am an A student. Everyone gets distracted now and then right? I use that to my advantage.

It's the last day of school, and English CP 10 is the last class of the day, thank Moses. I have been looking forward to this class all day, mainly because it's the last, but also because my super best friend Stan is in here, along with Kenny, who has always looked out for us. And then there's the fatass, Cartman. Cartman isn't really my friend but he's part of our group, and always has been. I'd much rather not have him around, but when he's with us, it feels like the old times, when all four of us were always hanging out and going on our crazy adventures. I always look back to those days because we were so careless and free compared to now. All I can say I feel in the present, is stress and constant worry as I grow older, my mother not getting any less aggravating, and preparing for adult hood not getting any less vital. I told this to Stan once, and he agreed with me, but he tries to ignore it. I don't see how that's even possible…

I envy my friends a lot. They appear to be happy in their day to day carefree lives, while I feel as if I have the weight of five elephants bearing down on my frail shoulders. I mean, I know they have troubles too, I'm not stupid. But they are certainly more unrestricted than I am at home. My mother is always shouting at me, lectures of how I need to grow up to be a successful man or I will end up poor and on the streets. She shoves more and more commands down my throat, expecting me to fulfill all of them in record timing. Don't get me wrong though, I still have fun when I can. It's just so hard to when I have all of these odds and ends still on my mind.

I feel a finger tap on my shoulder, and hesitantly turn my head. Stan sits right behind me to my right, looking quite bored.

"Dude, are you okay? You look like you didn't get any sleep last night." He gives me a worried look.

I don't really notice that I'm dozing off. I'm bored as hell, and I just want to leave. Blinking to rid the remaining drowziness oozing from my eyes, I straighten my green trapper that's falling from the side of my head. "Yeah, yeah. I just had trouble sleeping."

He smiles, showing off his perfectly white teeth. "Excited for summer?" Kenny turns around in his creaking chair to face us from a row over, his hood swallowing up a good portion of his face.

I smile back, fully awakened and turn to face him. "Hell yeah, dude. We are still going to your house after school, right?" Me, Stan, Cartman and Kenny decided to hang out at Stan's for a little Xbox to celebrate the ending of the school year. I gladly accepted the offer, since I have not hung out with my friends for a few weeks now. Seriously, it's long overdue. I am disappointed however, that Cartman has to join us. The whole time I'm there, I know he'll be bashing my religion and making fun of my ginger Jew fro, and New Jersey origin. I've decided I'll just try my best to ignore it and talk to Stan and Kenny.

I know that idea's going to fail miserably.

Stan nods at my question, then quickly picks up his pencil and ducks his head. Sensing we've been caught, I turn my face toward the chalkboard to find Mr. Garrison glaring at the trio that famously interupts class nearly every week.

My mouth opens slowly. "Uh… sorry Mr. Garrison."

"You better be Mr. Broflovski, turn your head around and pay attention!" My face is now slightly flushed as I turn toward the board, feeling a couple pairs of eyes stare down on me. I'm kind of used to it, but I still get embarrassed.

Mr. Garrison sighs loudly. "Now, kids, I know it's the last day of school but I just need your attention for a little longer. You might need to know this stuff for next year."

While Mr. Garrison blabbering on, I try to focus on what he's saying, but have a hard time getting the key points he wants us to write down. My eyelids are heavy with weariness and my vision's a little fuzzy. I've only written down a few words on the half sheet of grid line paper that's gawking at me from the desk. Oh well, I'll learn this next year. Students shouldn't be forced to do any kind of work the day before summer break.

Suddenly, an object so light that I can barely even register it's there, thumps me on my head, and bounces lightly onto my desk. Dragging the only support of my head from my chin wearily, I pick up the little wad of paper, unfolding the crinkles. Someone around me has scribbled down the word 'FAG' in large writing, and thrown it at me.

My eyebrows scrunch together in mock confusion. What the hell? A chill runs up my spine for a moment of pure confusion. In a matter of seconds, it hits me. When I realize who's responsible, I just roll my eyes. I've had enough of this bullshit already.

Chuckling to the left of me, Cartman sends me an evil smirk, ripping the corner off his paper. Not comprehending what he's planning, I turn my body slightly to chew him out just in time to be smacked in the face with another paper football.

''Quit it fatass!" I swipe the paper off my desk, and toss his paper insult that he wrote on back at him. It hits the front of his shirt lamely, and he starts to chuckle again, his brown eyes looking quite amused by my reaction.

"Nice aim, Kahhhl. I guess Jews don't have much strength either. Or maybe that's just you." My face begins to feel hot from rage and embarrassment, but I don't show defeat and flip him off to display to him that he hasn't won this immature game.

"Look who's talking. With all that flab on your fatass, I bet your ninety-eight percent lard and two percent muscle. Go hit the treadmill for once." A few people were starting to laugh quietly, but his face shows no sign of defeat or humiliation. Instead, he mocks my move and proudly raises his middle finger up at me.

"Screw you, Jew. You're so weak and scrawny you could pass as being a girl. Get that sand out of your vagina and go fuck a guy." He smirks fake innocense, eyes twinkling with mischief. Knowing he's pissing me off is giving him a real kick out of this.

I clench my fists together in anger, my blood boiling in my veins. I really wish I could just slap this stupid asshole's smirk right off his stupid chubby face and send him home crying, like I did before when we were younger.

But the teacher is already done with me for today. I decide to be the better person. I let the pent up frustration out of my lungs and slowly turn back around toward the front of the classroom. Both my hands form fists and I silently grit my teeth.

Cartman has won his stupid little game, again. Yet I didn't even agree to cooperate or participate. I think I can hear Stan shouting quietly at Cartman, probably telling him to quit being a prick, as the lesson is wrapped up ahead.

Okay, just a few more minutes of school… then you are free for the next three months. I stare forward at nothing in particular, as I impatiently tap my foot repeatedly on the ground. My hand once again finds the underside of my chin. This seems to have become a habit of mine when I'm in any sort of classroom setting.

The bell suddenly screams loudly throughout the school, startling everyone. It's the end of the day. Cheers of joy and delight rip through the air of boredom and anxiety, outside in the hallways and in my classroom. I let out a sigh of relief as I reach down and grab my backpack, and stand from my seat to sling it over my shoulders, grabbing hold of the straps like some kind of shield.

I search for Stan through the buzzing crowd pouring out the door, and spot him being tugged along by Wendy's arm, Kenny following right behind Stan. I roll my eyes. I really wish Wendy would quit latching onto Stan so much. Every opportunity she gets, she'll grab Stan with her pink claws, hypnotizing him with her hungry red eyes. She's like a parasite, and Stan is the host. I guess that's what happens when you're in love.

Since Kenny has gone along with Stan, I start to walk forlornly by myself out of the classroom. When I'm about five feet away from the exit, somebody's hands push me sideways hard, and I struggle to balance myself and not fall over onto the filthy floor. I turn around quickly and meet my tormenter, a chubby moron who's laughing his ass off with his hand holding his stomach, like it's the funniest thing in the world.

"What the hell fatass! I told you to fuck off!" I try to punch him in the arm, but he catches my fist in his large hand and smacks it away expertly. Straightening up, he drops his grin to a smirk, looking at me more seriously. His ill-behaved eyes roam over my pissed off, drained of life face.

"Oh Kahl, you're so dramatic. I thought you were used to me by now. I mean, honestly. You've known me for how long now?"

"Kyle Broflovski, can you come here please?" The teacher hollers behind his desk before I can retort back.

I give him the heaviest glare, hoping he recieves the message, and turn my back to him.

Ugh, what did I do? Cartman should be the one getting in trouble. He pushed me!

I don't vocalize my thoughts, and meet Mr. Garrison at his desk. He gives me a strange look.

I hear the door close shut behind me, confirming Cartman doesn't care enough to stay.

"Kyle, can you tell me just why in the hell you didn't turn in your work?" Wait, what? Caught off guard, my mouth falls open slightly. Why hadn't I turned my work in? Oh, right. I didn't want to listen this time, and it was sort of a retort against my mother. I just couldn't finish all my work with her constantly giving me other stuff to do. But I can't say that…

"Well, sorry Mr. Garrison, it's just I was so caught up in my final exam studies and so many other projects, as well as several things at home, I couldn't get it done in time." I stare pleadingly into his eyes, hoping my lame excuse will work. He breaks contact, looking down into his lap.

"Kyle, you failed English. Failed. You've hardly turned in your homework and you flunked the last test. I know for sure your mother or father won't be happy with this, it's just unacceptable and now you have to repeat the whole damn class next year."

My face freezes still. Did I just hear him correctly?

Failed? I failed? Kyle Broflovski, the teacher's pet, the straight A student, the overworking Jewish kid, failed English class? I'm so shocked, I can't even find any words to say.

"But Kyle, since I know you are much better than this, and because we all know your mother will probably raise hell on us, me and the other teachers have worked out something for you. It's optional, but I recommend you do it anyway." I nod, seeing no other options.

"It's a summer program. It's not like a regular class where you sit down and we teach you, it's more like a camp. It gives you extra credit, and with it you could get at least a C for English and bring some of your other grades up." He grabs a paper from one of the giant piles on the desk, and holds it out for me to take. Still really shocked, I grab it from him weakly.

I read the top: South Park's Extra Credit Program, where students can receive extra credit for any courses; for Middle and High School students.

My heart starts pounding against my chest when it registers in my brain.

For fear of what my mom's reaction will be to all of this, to the fear of losing my whole entire summer to this stupid activity, and the strange, unknown camp that this paper describes in my hand, I shake my head in denial.

I'm silent for while I stare lifelessly at the pink flyer in my hands, reading over the same thing again and again. Photographs of happy, smiling children along the bottom seem to be looking at me and laughing, mocking me in my silence.

"Alright, well, I gotta go Kyle. I have an appointment to check my prostate at 4:00 and I can't be late. Don't want my ass to develop any cancer." I would wrinkle my nose up in disgust if it weren't for this thing in my hands. Mr. Garrison grabs his coat and bags, taking some stuff out of the desk's drawers and heads toward the exit.

"Well, have a nice summer, Kyle, I'll see you next year and good luck." He says as he switches the lights off, not even bothering to close or lock the door.

It finally registers that everyone is gone and I'm alone. I look up, fear etched on my features.

Shit. Shit. Shit shit.

My fingers fold the paper in half and I stare up at the cieling, asking nobody why I have to be punished this way, not feeling prepared for the nightmares that are probably waiting for me.






Hey, my readers. I understand that the first chapter is everything and, well, if it isn't good, nobody wants to read the rest of the story. I'm hoping I didn't screw it up completely. Please leave a review and give me some feedback. The rating to this story may change. Until Next time!