South Park © Matt & Trey.

I killed Kenny again. Sorry~~

Kyle –

Kenny died a year ago.

We didn't know it at the time, but he was the glue. He was the one who kept us all together. It's kind of ironic when I put it into perspective. I used to think he never spoke much, and when he did it was often just to add a perverted comment here and there. Looking back on it, I can recall the quieter things. The way he'd put everyone else's happiness above his own, the way he was always watching us. It was like everything he did, in some strange way, was for us. Without him, things changed. Many of us fell apart and grew apart.

We're in grade eleven now, and I haven't spoken to Stan in a long time. A few weeks after the funeral, we had a fight. It's what really led to our falling out. The blame was tossed around, mostly in my direction. I couldn't deny the part I played in it, though I tried. I think I just wanted to make myself feel better about it.

Kenny was never careful. He was always impulsive, reckless, and too damn altruistic for his own good. However, he saved my life and I think I owe it to him to make something of myself.

We had just started grade ten. It was a normal weekend, a weekend just like any other. We were jay-walking because the cross-walk sign always takes too long. It was nearing five o'clock. Traffic hour was approaching. Cartman ran first and Stan followed shortly after.

"Hurry up, guys!" Stan called at us from the opposite side of the street.

"Yeah, Kahl, don't be a little pussy!"

I didn't want to. Jay-walking always made me nervous, especially jay-walking on these twisty roads. There is no way to see if cars are coming or not. You just have to listen carefully, and listening was something we didn't do. So, I hesitantly began to cross and Kenny followed after me.

There was a car and I froze. I know that sounds stupid, but that's what happened. I just stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the oncoming car until I felt two hands give me an incredibly rough shove. I went flying towards safety while Kenny was hit by the car and went flying in another direction.

The car came to a screeching halt and the poor driver almost cried, but I know it wasn't his fault. He didn't see us coming. We were just dumb kids doing dumb (and illegal) things.

I got up off of the ground and ran over towards where Kenny was lying. He was broken and bloody. I knew it wasn't going to end well, but still I promised –

"Kenny, we'll fix you up!" I said, putting my hand on his chest.

"Don't worry about it," he whispered, putting his hand on top of mine and shutting his eyes.

"Kenny, no!" I screamed pleadingly. "Keep your eyes open! You have to keep your eyes open!"

He just smiled.

He fucking smiled.

And then he stopped – the whole fucking world stopped.

"Kenny?" I said his name. I kept repeating it, begging for him to wake up, but he didn't.

He was soon taken away and we were asked questions. I was in such a daze I couldn't answer any of them. Stan and Cartman had to do all the talking and that was that.

Everyone's lives continued – except for Kenny's.

I still can't help but blame myself when I think about it too hard. It starts to hurt again and the blame doesn't help. Cartman told me it was my fault when he called me Killer. I almost prefered him calling me Jew. The cops told me it was my fault when they said, "You shouldn't have jay-walked." The paramedics told me it was my fault when they asked, "What happened?" and I had to tell them he did it to save me. My parents told me it was my fault when they yelled, "You should have used the cross walk!" Stan told me it was my fault when he said, "You killed Kenny."

So, maybe, it was my fault after all… and sure, I'm sad, but I'd never throw away what Kenny did for me.

Already one whole year… It doesn't feel like it's been that long yet. I've been bottling this all for a year.

I didn't make a sound throughout the entire funeral. I didn't cry and I didn't speak. I couldn't. I just stood there feeling numb. My mom had her palm on my left shoulder, while my dad had his on my right. Ike held my hand and it was like they all thought I was going to fucking fall apart.

"…We now commit Kenneth McCormick's body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in the sure and certain hope of resurrection to eternal life…"

I walked home afterwards. My parents tried to force me into the car but I wouldn't get in. I just took the long way home and then fell asleep in my bed without even taking my funeral attire off.

I didn't want to be awake. I didn't want to think about what happened. I didn't want to think about the person I would never see again. I didn't want to think about all the things I could have done differently. I didn't want to think about all the ways it could have been prevented. I didn't want to have to face my friends. I knew that everything was going to change and I so desperately wanted it to stay the same. But it was impossible.

I found Stan praying one night, back when we were still friends. It reminded me of something Kenny once told me: "We pray when we feel helpless." I wonder if he still prays. I asked him about it, but he only got angry. I never asked again.

It's too late for crying and apologies. Apologies can't bring the dead back to life and neither can tears, so I try damn hard not to cry about it.

But I think that is when I realized running was the perfect distraction. I joined the track team in the middle of grade ten, shortly after Kenny died.

When I'm out on the field, panting and determined, there really isn't anything else I can think about apart from crossing the finish line or setting a new record for myself. It keeps me going. I move forward.

It's biology class.

Stan is in the back row with Wendy. I can hear them whispering and laughing quietly to each other. I have half a mind to turn around and tell them to shut up but I could never bring myself to do that. If I was to speak to Stan, he would probably just give me this airy look and I'd feel fucking ridiculous.

Stan's the star quarterback of the football team. Naturally. He plays with Cartman, but I don't see them interact as much as they used to unless they're out on the field. Even then, they don't talk about anything important. It's just tossing the ball and game play. Clyde and Token are also on the team. Stan grew closer to them after dropping me. I don't think either of them have ever been particularly fond of me.

Wendy and her friends are cheerleaders, but they still treat me well, unlike the football team. I think it's because they pity me. In a way, it's just as bad. It feels gross to be pitied.

It's all pretty stereotypical. Cartman spends most of his time with Butters. He also can be seen enjoying himself while taunting Tweek and Craig for being "fags" with each other. Cartman and I still talk. Well, I guess it's still mostly arguing… among other things. It's complicated.

I'm not particularly popular or important around here, but I guess it's fine because I don't care too much about making a reputation. Reputation is only what people think of you – in the end it doesn't say a thing about who you truly are. I learned that when people started turning against me. I learned that when Stan started spreading rumors. I learned it the hard way.

But, like I said, there's no point crying over it. I still have friends.

I'm sitting in the front row because I'm a bit of a keener. Butters is sitting next to me. He is one of the few people from South Park middle school who still treats me the same. When I asked him why, he said, "Kenny saved you because he thought you were worth saving. If he thought it, then it must be true! He'd be disappointed at all of his friends for being mean. I don't want to disappoint him by treating you like trash or being fake. That'd be real disrespectful." I thought that was a very Butters thing to say. There should be more people like Butters in the world.

Mr. Garrison is introducing the new unit on cell division – yes, he is our teacher once again. They idiot school board finally decided he wasn't fit to teach young children. I think I could have told them that. I'm sure any kid who has had him could have told them that. He has traumatized many young minds over the years.

Every time he asks a question, he looks at me and Wendy expectantly because we are the only kids in the class who really know what's going on. I feel like it's a competition – to see who can give the most answers. A pretty harmless competition. Everyone else is too wrapped up in their own lives to study. I guess all my life really revolves around is school. I need to get good grades to do what I want in life. I need to be an over-achiever. The kids can hate me for it, but one day I'll make a difference. One day I'll be the one saving lives. Until then, they can hate me all they want.

I'm going to repay Kenny and this is the only way I know how. So, I'll study hard. I'll apply to all the best schools, and someday I'll be a doctor.

I think Kenny would have liked that.