Chapter Text
You want to have a thing.
You used to have a thing. For as long as you can remember, your thing was being the smartest kid in class. The one who always raised their hand, the one who the teacher partnered up with kids who were struggling, the one who was most likely to be valedictorian. At your old school, this was a comfortable part of your identity, and others recognized and respected you for it. But now that you’ve moved for the beginning of your senior year, you’re finding the kids at your new school already have their own things. And that includes your thing.
You wouldn’t mind that there’s already a brilliant, uncompromising girl who takes her position as student body president seriously. You think it’s great that one of the kids in your grade has an incredible talent for singing. But what you do mind is the one gunning for valedictorian: Kyle Broflovski. As much as you’d like to walk up to him, poke a finger in his chest, and say “Look buddy, what do you think you’re doing?” you shy away from him. Not only is he smart, but he’s constantly smiling and surrounded by a close friend group you can tell he’s known for years and years. He doesn’t even know he’s encroaching on your smart-kid territory, and that makes him all the more annoying. You’re still going for valedictorian, but just from a few weeks of being in his AP English class has shown you how brilliant he really is. He tackles the subjects with such attention to detail and describes his thoughts in tactfully chosen vocabulary. It might make you swoon if you didn’t have to keep your guard up and pay attention—valedictorians have no time for romance.
So, you might have to accept that your dream of valedictorian might fall into the hands of Kyle. But that’s okay! Because you’ve picked up a new and exciting addition to your resume! Your old school didn’t even have a peer mediator, so you had to have the principal explain it to you during your interview. Basically, you’re like an unpaid guidance counselor—you solve issues between other students in a more approachable way, because you’re one of their peers. It seemed like a good fit because you really like to help people, and so far, it’s been kind of nice—it seems like you’re really making a difference to some of the kids who come in. Most of the problems you solve are fairly menial—someone thinks someone else cheated off of them, so and so stole whoever’s boyfriend. So far, you’ve had a pretty good success rate, and you like seeing people walk away with their problems solved by you. It also will look pretty good on your college application, especially if you end up having an empty space where you thought “valedictorian” would go.
Today was a pretty slow day in your office. You had already solved the mystery of Tweek’s missing cheese stick (His boyfriend did not, in fact, take it, as you all discovered when you told him to check his backpack) that morning. Fortunately, you’re paid by the hour, and you allowed yourself to daydream a bit while you sat at your empty desk. You dreamt of wrapping up high school, finally going off to college, enjoying the ivy-covered walls and sipping on campus coffee as you laughed with friends who really understood you… That was something you missed about your old school. Because you'd moved so late in high school, you were having trouble making friends with the tight-knit group of kids. It was pretty hard being so shy and nervous around all of the new people, but you’d be done with high school soon. Hopefully senior year would go by as fast as possible.
It happened so suddenly that you thought you almost imagined the sound of a total stampede in the hallway outside of your office. What could possibly be going on at 10:30 in the morning? Most kids were supposed to be headed to class since this was a passing period. Part of you wanted to stay in the safety of your office, but the other part desperately wanted to know what was going on, especially if it was something dangerous. Taking charge, you stood up and headed to the door. As you did, you could hear one word chanted over and over again:
“Fight! Fight! Fight!”
You opened the door and turned towards the sound of the fight. Before you could realize just how massive the crowd was for such a tiny hallway, you were already a part of it. Bodies swarmed around you as you quickly realized your mistake and tried to go back inside, however, it was too late for that. A kid you recognized from your English class dashed past you in attempts to get to the center of the fight, but you couldn’t see who was causing it. There was a loud reaction from the crowd, and what sounded like the metallic clang of someone slamming against a locker. You definitely did not need to see what was going to happen next—you were sure you’d hear about it later. However, as you tried to head back into your office, the crowd would not budge and you began to panic a bit as you realized how stuck you were going against the grain. Kids were pushing and shoving each other in every direction to get a better view, and you accidentally collided with the back of a boy as someone pushed you out of their way.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” you apologized.
The boy looked down at you—you recognized him from your art class. His blue eyes were squarely on the fight as he craned his neck to see, but he stopped and gave you some attention as he seemed to realize how nervous you were. “No worries,” he said with a small smile, his eyebrows upturned. “Are you alright?”
“I’m great!” you said for some reason. Why would anyone be great in this situation? This was why you didn’t have any friends at this school.
For whatever reason, he decided to ignore how stupid your response was and instead opted to help you. “You look a little stressed. I’m sorry there’s such a big crowd, it must be hard to get through at your height. Want me to help you through?”
You nodded gratefully, and the boy placed a hand on your shoulder as he guided you back in the other direction. He was taller than most of the other students, so they made way for him as you snaked through the crowd. “This is me,” you said, pointing to your office door. “Thank you so much. I probably would’ve gotten trampled if it weren’t for you.”
“It’s no problem, no problem at all.” He flashed another quick smile at you, but with another yell from the crowd, he was reminded of the fight. “Shit! I’m sorry—I really have to go make sure everyone’s okay.” He weaved back through the crowd again, this time calling out to the fighters. It almost sounded like he said “Kyle!” but that couldn’t be right, he’d never get in a fight. It was probably a different kid.
You settled back in your desk and thanked the universe for sending you that boy right when you needed him—you probably would’ve had a panic attack if he hadn’t helped you out there. You were pretty sure his name was Kenny, but that was the first time you’d gotten to speak to him. He seemed like a nice kid, maybe he could be your friend.
After a little while, you could hear kids leaving in waves and the sound of chatter—the fight must have been over. Depending on the reason or the level of seriousness for the fight, it was not unlikely that the two students involved could be sitting in front of you soon. You decided to put on a professional face to prepare for it.
The principal paced in quickly and gave you an incident report, which had seemingly been hastily written up by hand. You didn’t even have time to look at it before he told you, “Listen, you’ve got a kid coming in here in a few seconds to talk about a fight that just happened in the hallway.”
“Just one? What about the other, aren’t I supposed to help them work out their differences?”
“The other party involved might have to go to the hospital,” the principal said with a grimace. You put a hand to your mouth—You couldn’t imagine who would be responsible for something like that. This was definitely the most serious situation you’d dealt with so far, and you became nervous at the thought of it. The principal left your office, and you could hear him say “You can go ahead now,” to whoever the perpetrator was.
Red hair and a dark green button down. One hand in his slacks pocket and an ice pack against his cheek, as well as a dark purple spot forming on his hooked nose.
No fucking way.
He brushed the seat off, then sat down and leaned back against the office chair. He groaned slightly as he did so—maybe the other kid had done a number on him before he sent him to the hospital.
“Are you okay?” you asked him after you were able to collect your thoughts. “You look pretty bad.”
“I’m fine. You should see the other guy.” He was serious for a second, then cracked a smile. “Sorry, I’ve always wanted an excuse to say that.”
This was all too insane. Kyle had gotten into a fight at school, apparently sent the other kid to the hospital, and now he was in front of you making jokes about it. What were you supposed to say? “Are you sure? You can always take some time in the nurse’s office before we talk.”
“I’m sure. I already went to the nurse's office, and she just gave me this ice pack.” He lifted it to show you, revealing a bright red handprint on his cheek. “I think that might be the extent of her medical knowledge.”
“Okay, well, just let me know if the pain gets to be too bad for you. I can’t imagine being in a fight.”
“I’m really okay. Thanks for the concern, though.”
You both looked at each other, then at the floor, then back to each other as if you’d planned it before. Weird. “Alright, well, usually we have these kinds of conversations with the other person in the room. But we won’t be able to this time, because, uh, well, you know why. So I think what I can do for now is get your side of the story, and then get his, and maybe have a meeting with the two of you once he’s feeling better.”
“Sure.”
“So, would you like to tell me what happened?”
“I was at my locker getting my textbook for my history class. He came up to me and told me something he’d seen on the news last night about how Jewish people are taking over the world or whatever—I just hit him with the book. I didn’t even realize I’d done it until he was freaking out at me for it, asking me if I wanted to fight. I did. I did want to, I’m tired of that shit.”
You weren’t really supposed to admit that violence was the answer, but in this case, it kind of seemed like it was. “And that escalated into a serious fight out in the hallway?”
“Yeah. We fought when we were kids, but I don’t know, this time it seemed different. Like there was real hatred there.”
“Hatred for him?”
“I think so. He always rips on me for that sort of thing, but we’re at the age where I can’t let it slide anymore. It’s dangerous, I had to shut him up.”
“I see. So you were feeling pretty angry back there.”
“I was. I still am. I’m the only Jewish kid here, so I had to say something. Or do something, I guess.”
“That probably feels pretty isolating sometimes.”
“A little. Most of the time it doesn’t bother me. I guess he just picked a bad morning to be an asshole. Although, I say that like he isn’t an asshole every morning.”
You nodded your head. “Do you feel like you lost your temper and got carried away—”
“I would do it again if he were here right now.”
Gosh, he was serious about this. You considered what to say—you had to resolve this issue for your job, however, your main rival was right here in front of you. You could totally tell the school that he was a dangerous rebel who required disciplinary action and should not be bestowed with such a high honor as valedictorian.
You caught his eye as you mulled over your evil plan—he smiled at you, and you knew in your heart you would never do that. You liked to help people, and you were going to help him. “Listen,” you said to him under your breath. “Normally I’m supposed to resolve these kinds of issues, but to be honest, I kind of feel like you were in the right. Have you ever tried solving this problem using your words?”
“Countless times.”
“And it never worked?”
“Not once. I think it only encouraged him more.”
“Well, maybe I can tell the school it sounds like you were experiencing repeated harassment by another student, and because protective measures weren’t in place for you, you felt you had no choice but to strike back physically. Does that sound right to you?”
As he seemed to pick up on your idea, Kyle grinned, showing a glimpse of a pointy canine. “That sounds exactly right to me.”
“Okay, well, I’ll talk to the other student later and see what he has to say, but otherwise, it seems like your side of the story is pretty solid.”
“Thank you. I thought this was gonna go kind of differently, to be honest, but you seem pretty cool.”
A blush came over your face. “Oh—how did you think it was going to go?”
“I don’t know. I feel like if I was peer mediator I would kind of go mad with power. You know, have a little fun, pit people against each other.” He laughed. “You don’t seem like the kind of person who would do that.”
The thought of him knowing what kind of person you were simultaneously interested and worried you—-you were pretty sure he didn’t even know your name. “I guess not,” you admitted. “Though, now that you bring it up…”
He laughed again, then rubbed the back of his neck. He twitched slightly, then asked, “Can you do me a favor before I get out of your hair?”
“Sure.”
“Can you look at the back of my neck and see if there’s a mark there? It feels kind of tender.”
“Oh—sure.” You stood up out of your chair and walked around his as he sat in his seat with his arms crossed. His red hair curled around the back of his neck, so you had to parse through it slightly to see if there was anything noticeable. As you did so, he closed his eyes and let out a soft hum. Maybe it felt good. His neck wasn’t as bruised as his nose, but it did seem a little red. “Does this hurt at all?” You gently rubbed your thumb against his skin where the redness was, and he opened his eyes.
“A bit—but you don’t see anything?”
“It’s a little red.”
“Damn,” he said and gently took your hand off of his neck before he stood up and lifted his backpack. “My mom’s going to flip out if she finds out I got in a fight today.”
“It might be a little noticeable,” you told him, knowing there was no way he could hide the bruise on his nose.
“Crap. She’s gonna kill me.”
It was a little funny how his main worry was with his mother’s reaction, but on some level, you understood. “Well, good luck!”
“Thank you, (Name). And I really appreciate you putting in a good word with the school for me,” he said, sliding on his backpack.
“Of course. It’s my job to help people out.”
“Well. I'd say you’re doing a stellar job.” He leaned forward, his hands holding onto the straps of his backpack. He blinked slowly---even his eyelashes were red. God.
“Thanks.”
You both looked at your shoes—he was kind of supposed to leave at this point, but it wasn’t like you were going to tell him to get out. Especially when he was being so nice...
“You’re, uh, in my English class, right?”
“Fifth period?”
“Yup, that’s the one.”
“Cool, then, I’ll see you later, okay? That is, if they don’t suspend me.” He waved goodbye, smiled sweetly, and left.
You sat back at your desk—your shift was almost over, thank God. You just knew that the other side of the story was going to be something completely different, and you were going to have to figure out how to prove Kyle’s innocence the best you could.
You thought of how soft his hair was when you touched it, then shook the thought away when you realized you were smiling.
Senior year couldn’t go by fast enough.