It's only been two months since I started this project, and we're already on story number three. Holy crap.

For those who have just arrived here without reading any of the previous stories; not to worry! I write the New Kid Stories in an episodic fashion that do not require you to read each and every one. I'd love it if you did, but there's no reason to feel obligated! All you really need to know is this: My version of 'The New Kid' is a Cis Female who has chosen to continue presenting as male for fear that she'll lose her main group of people she hangs out with, and while Cartman is a sack of shit she has grown to rather like the others. Also, they're in middle school now because aging them up made me feel more comfortable. She's still working as Buttlord, and has become a regular partner with Mysterion, with Call Girl as their non-powered buddy who helps them get shit done. Kenny and Wendy know that she's a girl, and there's been some romantic themeing between her and Kenny in the past two stories, and some EXTREMELY SUBTLE suggestions that Butters might be interested.

And now, for the caveat that I put on all of these stories: The New Kid Stories is a project I write for fun during times of my life that are too stressful to work on my more professional ambitions, thus I do not stress out over technical perfection before uploading. There will be grammar mistakes, occasional missing words that occurred when I was writing too fast or when I was too tired to catch it, and other nit-picky things like that. I welcome being notified of these things so I can fix them, either via review, PM, or a poke over on my Tumblr [it's the same name as here], but I am not going to stress out over them.

Hokay? Hokay!

On
With
The
Fic!

OWTF!

::Rusty Iron Pipes on a Chalkboard – On Again, Off Again::

"Wendy! H-Hey! Uh... could I talk to you?"

On the list of people Wendy talked to on a regular basis, Butters was not very high. They tended to run into one another as a consequence of their friendly spheres intersecting, but the majority of the time they really were not on eachother's radar. She knew him as a mostly well-meaning but also really misguided boy, and she was sure he knew her as the entirely overzealous feminist who happened to be on the cheer squad. Of the times they had interacted in the past, she mostly remembered approaching him, and yet? Here he was, rushing down the hallway to catch her in the last minutes before first hour, trying to get her attention.

She'd try to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"What's up, Butters?" She quested curiously, having just finished up at her locker before he got to her. He looked a little different today, like he'd put extra effort into his hair or something? No, that wasn't quite it... something was cleaner about his appearance, as if he were out to make a good impression. He even had a button-down shirt on. Was he trying to look good for someone?

"W-Well, y'see, there's the big dance coming up- and, uh..."

Oh shit, really? Butters, that's really sweet, but... "Oh, sorry, I'm already sorta... planning on going with someone else."

"Huh?" His head cocked, eyes widening in shock as he realized he'd been misunderstood. "Oh- not you! Uh, no, um... Listen, do you know if, um... Dee is going with anyone? To the Homecoming dance?"

Surprises on top of surprises, what was this? Since when did Butters express an interest in another boy, and so publicly? Well, Dee wasn't actually a boy, but Butters didn't know that- as far as the rest of the school was concerned, that kid had a dick, and some pretty sizable balls. "Who wants to know?" She asked with faux innocence, trying to wheedle out a little more information without directly asking.

"W-Well, that's... oh hamburgers, um... it's me, okay?" Butters lowered his voice as much as he could while still being heard over the din of other students in the hall. The first warning bell rang- five minutes until first hour started. "J-just, I remember thinking Dee was really pretty since he first moved here, and then the other day I overheard you telling him that he was 'gonna break a lot of hearts when he came out,' and I figure if he's gay and I like him, maybe I should just try it and see where it goes? I-I mean, if he's okay with that, if he's not ready then... oh darn I'm talking myself in circles. C'mon little buddy, you can do this." He took a deep breath, seeming to stave off a bout of panic for an extra few minutes.

Holy crap she was right. Wendy thought that's why Butters freaked out the other day- the kid was wrestling with his sexuality! It had been a little while ago, more than a week, but Wendy had been talking with Dee about coming out as a girl- but Butters must have misunderstood in his eavesdropping and thought she meant coming out as queer... and now he was here, asking if Dee was available. For some reason that made her happy, though she couldn't put her finger on why. In the meantime, however, a correction had to be leveled. "Dee's pan, not gay. He's capable of being attracted to anyone, regardless of gender. Boys, girls, people who don't identify as either, people who identify as both, gender fluid..." She waved her hand, listing gender identities was like trying to list all the different colors and shades one could possibly use in a painting. It came in as many varieties as there were people to identify with them. "He just avoids showing it. When you get down to it, he's a little shy."

Angry was more like it- angry at puberty, angry at the entire idea of romantic attraction and the fact that it couldn't just be tuned out like so much noise. Angry that so many people were obsessed with it as the end-all, be-all of what their life was about at the moment... but Wendy was convinced that Dee was only so pissed off because not being angry would require admitting that yes, the all-mighty Buttlord had feelings.

"What?!" Butter's took this information with a touch of panic rising up into his voice. "But- that means I gotta compete with the whole school-! H-How am I supposed to stand out?"

"... I don't think that many people are interested in Dee, Butters." Wendy murmured, amazed how quick he was to over react. "Most kids just think he's weird."

"But he's so pretty." Butters insisted, words he had no doubt repeated to himself a thousand times while working up the internal nerve to admit that he wanted to ask the kid out, to himself before he could even act upon it in the world outside his head. "Ah, nuts, I gotta move fast or I'm gonna lose my chance."

Second warning bell rang- two minutes before class. "Ah! Me too." Wendy noted; she needed to hurry on to her math class or she was going to be late. "See you later, Butters- and good luck!"

"Did you hear? There's gonna be a singing contest at the Homecoming dance- with prizes and everything!"

"You sound excited for someone with no rhythm what-so-ever."

"SHUTTUP CARTMAN!"

Ah, lunchtime. Dee found herself glad that her cohorts were nearly always fighting; it meant no one noticed that she and Kenny sat side-by-side pretty much every day. With any luck, Dee liked to arrange Kyle to her other side, as Stan always sat next to Kyle, and it afforded her maximum distance from Cartman, regardless of what kind of table they sat at or what side of the chain the biggest asshole at school decided to sit on. If it was one of the round tables that populated the center of the middle school lunchroom, it simply placed her across from him. On days like today, where they were at one of the bench-type tables around the edges, she didn't even have to look at his fat face. She could just focus on her cheaply made hamburger and fries as she drowned them in ketchup and salt before wolfing into her food with abandon.

"What? C'mon Kyle, you don't need me to remind you that Jews have no rhythm at all- and no one wins a singing contest without a little flash, a little razzle-dazzle; no rhythm, no razzle-dazzle! You can't win."

"Well! We'll just see about that, right Stan?"

"Wait, you're roping me into this?"

"Yeah! I bet we could kick some ass."

"Well, I was... um... thinking about asking Wendy to sing something with me."

"Oh shit, you're kidding me." Kyle's tone turned away from excitement and fell into a pit of disappointment. "Stan, please don't tell me you guys are doing this again?"

"It's been different!" Stan insisted. "We've been... different. I donno, it feels like there's a different kind of trust between us lately, like we faced something hard together, but I can't remember what. Something's just clicked, I guess."

"You cannot be serious, Stan- that filthy harpy has broken your heart way too many times, and you just keep crawling back to her. What the fuck is wrong with you?" Cartman's voice lent itself to the conversation, but it didn't add much. "Besides, if you don't win, singing a duet goes from romantic to tragic and that pussy dries right the fuck up."

"Like you'd know anything about THAT, fatass!"

"H-h-hey guys, how's it g—g-going?"

Eyes turned upwards; Jimmy was making his way over with his tray, Timmy close behind.

"Stan's getting back with Wendy. Again." Kyle reported as Timmy rolled himself up to the end of the table and Jimmy had a seat; the pair were always a welcome addition to their table, and it gave Dee someone to glance up at between too-big bites of her burger. Her fries were already gone. Kenny was keeping similar pace, having yanked down his muffler to do so; it also gave them both handy excuse to abstain from the current conversation. It seemed to be the constant buzz around the school- with a dance coming up, everyone was on about who was dating who, the singing contest, or both.

Dee might have snuck a glance at Kenny, but it felt too obvious. Too public. What if someone noticed? What if someone suspected?

We're not dating. We haven't even talked about it, but... fucking Mr. Hankey doing back-flips on a hospital bed I hate this horseshit.

And yet, here she was, sitting next to him every day they could arrange it so.

It's not like it's just me. When I get to the table first, he sits next to me. It's mutual. And weird.

"O-oh- congradu- congraduu- congratulations!" Jimmy stammered out as he arranged his crutches before starting on his own tray of food; it appeared he preferred to drown his burger in BBQ sauce instead of ketchup.

"What are you talking about? It's going to be a disaster- it always is!" Kyle insisted.

"Timmy!"

"Timmy's right." Jimmy agreed. "Yo-you can't let p-p-p-past failures stop you from t-trying again. If the spa- spaaaa- spark is still there, you can't quit!"

"See!" Stan insisted. "This is what I keep trying to tell you people! Wendy and I have something that keeps driving us together, I can't just ignore that."

"Listen, Stan, we can all agree the bitch is hot, but you can't let your dick do all the thinking for you." Cartman coached sternly. "I'm seriously here, you gotta give someone else a chance. We're your friends, and we all know that when you're with Wendy you have less time for us, which sucks. Then you're not with Wendy, and you become a fucking sad-sap who is no fun to be around, which sucks. No matter what happens, it all sucks!"

"For you guys, maybe! But for me, the times I've been with Wendy have been the happiest of my life!"

Good fucking god you are the biggest sack of crap, Stan. You're a human fucking being, throwing the full burden of your happiness onto another person isn't just unfair to them, it's unhealthy for you. Maybe if you focused on your own shit for a while, got back to what makes you feel like yourself, you wouldn't be so damn unstable in this on-again, off-again relationship. What happened to the animal lover? The sports guy? What happened to all the other ways you defined yourself? Kyle's told me stories. There's so much more to you than being in love with Wendy.

"Yeah, and right after you break up is all the worst times in your life." Kenny added, his muffler back in place and his tray clean. "It's a fucking sea-saw with a vagina attached."

That's one way to put it.

"D-don't listen to these skep- skeptics, Stan." Jimmy assured. "W-Why, just look at m-m-me! Nancy t-t-t-transfered to a whole different school district and we still make a relation- re-re-relationship work!"

"Nancy?" Kyle quested. "Wait, you mean the girl you beat the shit out of?"

"TIMMY! Tim-Tim-T-Timmy!"

"That's r-right. I had a m-m-massive drug problem. Nancy helped m-me through it in the l-long run to st-stay clean, and s-s-sure we've had our rough p-p-pat- p-p-p-patches, but we've gotten past that, and we're stronger f-for it."

"I thought you guys broke up back in fourth grade." Stan observed with no small note of surprise.

"We did! B-But I w-wouldn't give up, and w-w-we got back together. I'm actually go-going to the office a-after school to get a visitor's pa-pa-pass for her, so she can come to the d-dance."

"Just shows how fucking retarded you guys are." Cartman grumbled. "On-again off-again is the fucking worst."

Shut your fat face, Cartman, if you bring up Heidi I will stop time and punch you right in the back of the head.

"E-excuse me?"

A little voice came from behind Timmy, and he reacted by rolling his chair slightly back to bring a girl into view. Mousy brown hair, big brown eyes- Dee didn't know her by name, but no doubt she was one of the many followers to the Farting Vigilante's Instagram; everyone in this school was. In her hand was clutched a folded up note, which she quickly presented to Dee, reaching across the table and in front of Kenny to do it.

"Hey!" Kenny protested, nearly getting an elbow in the face for how fast the girl was moving.

"T-this is for you." The girl said, waiting until Dee took the note. Sure enough, Dee was written on the paper. Did she know that handwriting? Pretty sure she didn't, but oh well. Just as quickly as the girl had thrust her arm in to deliver the note, she withdrew it.

"'kay, bye!" She squeaked before scuttling away.

"Who was that?" Kyle marveled.

"Who the fuck cares, what does the note say?" Cartman had leaned up in his spot, trying to peer around Kyle and Stan to get a peek, as everyone assumed Dee was going to open it right away and read it.

Instead, she quickly shoved the thing into the kangaroo pocket of her sweater.

"What?!" Stan crowed. "You're not even going to read it right away? What if it's urgent?"

Dee turned her gaze up towards Stan, brows in a flat line over her eyes, and her mouth equally so to form a look that just didn't have a single fuck to give.

There's a fucking school dance coming up asshat, what else is it going to be about? I don't know that girl, I'm not going with her, and y'all can fuck right off outta my business.

"She was kinda cute." Kenny noted, next to her, but it sounded like a reluctant sort of admittance- something he might have said out of being expected to say that, not necessarily meaning it.

"I-I think her name is Emily." Jimmy interjected. "S-s-she and I ha-ha-have English class together. D-do you want me to talk to her for you, Dee?"

Nope. Dee shook her head sharply, moving to get up and dump the empty box of milk from her tray. She was done with all of this nonsense, and the dance wasn't even happening for a few more days.

Grit your teeth and bare it, bitch. Grit your fucking teeth and bare it.

::The Author's Corner::

THE DRAMA BEGINS!

This fic is going to be a lot of fun for me; romantic drama is usually a genre I abstain from because, well, in most works it just gets too heavy for me. I know, hilarious coming from the person who literally had her main character rotting from the inside out during the first installment of this series- but, you see, that's a kind of heavy I can deal with. It feels important enough to be heavy. When it comes to relationships, however, the solutions seem so obvious to me I have trouble taking it seriously when I'm writing messy episodes of romance... but now?

Now I'm writing for South Park. I don't have to take it seriously. It's supposed to be utterly ridiculous.

This is gonna be fun.

ONWARDS!

-Buttlord