Chapter Text
Craig’s legs bounce restlessly so he pulls out his phone to distract him. He can feel the other guy’s eyes on him, but if he asks why he might end up growling and snapping and he doesn’t feel like losing control of his emotions yet.
The damp on his jeans radiates that smell, though it grows fainter as the minutes pass. The denim stiffer where it dried.
He texts his mom that he wants to come home with her and Tweek; then texts Clyde and Token to let them know Tweek is sick and they’re both going home.
He opens facebook and scrolls mindlessly. A text message interrupts eventually.
FROM: Mom
TO: Craig; 1:28PM
Dont text me when u know im driving Talk 2 u there
TO: Mom
FROM: Craig; 1:29PM
#Putitdown
Craig closes the messages app, only for another text to auto-open before facebook reloads
FROM: Clyde
TO: Craig; 1:31PM
Fuck man Tell Tweek I say feel better!! u get to go home too ??
Craig decides not to text back until he convinced his mom to let him go with her and Tweek. Another buzz alerts him that Token decided to carry his phone today too.
FROM: Token
TO: Craig; 1:33PM
Ok. Hope Tweek feels better. Text me what happened later.
“What’s wrong with him?” The senior taps his temple, smirking.
Craig was sure the other student would give up on seeing the nurse and just leave--if he were smarter, he might've. Maybe he just wanted to hang around the lobby all day long.
“Nothing.” Craig replies simply.
“Why'd he come to school if he was going to have it today?” The boy goes on, sniffing the air, chin tilted up. “Oh shit, it’s not his first is it?”
“What are you talking about?”
The senior scoffs. “What the fuck--you dont know?”
“Know what? How the fuck do you--”
“Craig!”
Immediately Craig is on his feet, phone clenched in a hand at his hip. Tweek’s shrill voice passes through the heavy locked door desperately. He knows the door is locked, but Craig twists the knob anyways, his hackles raised. Tweek’s howl draws him on pure instinct. He jerks a the doorknob irritatedly.
“Craig!” Tweek yowls again, and it’s as if the walls rattled. Everything goes black and white before Craig’s slit eyes, and he growls low. Behind the the senior has finally gotten up, cackling to himself though he leaves quickly.
“Tweek!” He calls back, voice betraying none of his inner agitation. “Calm down, I'm right out here!”
“Like being told to calm down would actually work on that boy.”
Laura Tucker’s voice, finely aged with a lifetime of eye-rolls and sarcasm has an instantly settling effect on her son, and he greets her with a middle finger that is returned in kind. He knocks on the door, which is unlocked shortly after.
“Move, Craig.” Laura commands, stepping up when Craig reluctantly gets out of the doorway. Laura gives him a motherly smile before closing and once again locking the door behind her with the flip-bolt.
Inside the room the smell is overpowering. It saturates the small space in thick humidity. Like fresh grounds and sugar and nutmeg caramelizing all at once. Rich enough to be sickly. Laura lifts an orange bandana she brought from home to her nose and mouth to filter some of the scent.
She’d not been expecting this far advanced release of pheromones when she got the call. Tweek’s voice is pitched and afraid, bubbling over a thousand little whimpers and grunts. He’s curled around himself on the bed, eyes wide and tear-filled. Sweat pools in his collarbones and dampens his shirt and hair. His tail alternates between stiff and boneless.
The nurse has a cloth mask over her mouth and nose and is going to turn on a second fan in the corner. She has a bowl with a wet cloth by the sink and next to it are two vials of dark blue liquid and one of white.
“Nurse Simmons?” Laura alerts. Simmons turns around and nods, relieved.
“Thank you for coming so quickly. Tweek’s Heat has come on alarmingly advanced. I was hoping the suppressant Alisiol would stymie it until he could get to the clinic but… He went from Pre-Presentation to Full Induction in what I’m guessing was within a few hours--I asked him exactly when he started feeling this way but he doesn’t seem to remember; today some time no doubt.”
“I’m sorry--It’s been a long time since I--Heat means that Tweek is an--”
“An Alpha or an Omega.”
“Right--but--Both Thomas and I are Betas. Can you tell which…?”
The nurse's face is somewhat grim, displeased with her own assessment. “I’m a Beta as well, but I believe him to be an Omega, if the symptoms I see are accurate. I'm not allowed to diagnose it, as I'm not a doctor, but that’s my opinion."
“Oh,” Laura doesn’t quite know what to say about this; she’s trying to remember who she knows that’s an Alpha or an Omega. Her mind comes up blank.
“Once he’s out of here I’m going to have to have a talk with the principal.” Nurse Simmons grouses, taking the wet washcloth to Tweek’s bed and wiping his face. She’s not really even saying such to Laura. “Tweek? Can you sit up? Mrs. Tucker is here to take you to the doctor.”
Tweek whimpers, and tries to push himself up on trembling arms. He manages after a few failures, exhausted when he does.
“Good job, Tweek. Try to stand now.”
Tweek’s legs swing slowly over the edge of the cot and onto the floor. Waves of dizziness sway his body, but with the nurses help he is up on unsteady legs. He feels another pop of something jelly-like come out of him and it’s all he can do not to cry.
The bed has a dark patch of it where he was laying, and to him this is the worst, leaving a mess--being a bother. “I’m going to ruin your car!” Tweek moans, stumbling into Laura, who wraps a supportive arm around him.
“I put a few towels down on the car seat, Tweek, don't worry, okay?” The fearful way he looks up at her reminiscent of when Tweek was younger, when his and Craig’s relationship was new and the blond overly timid of her and her husband. She remembers how Craig had to teach them how to be more nurturing, and Tweek loved them more than he ever had his own parents.
“O-okay…”
Together the women get Tweek out of the resting room despite his best efforts to fall over. Craig is back to being just outside the door and he shifts to let them through. He’d taken his chullo off to give space to his sleek black ears, which rose to help track Tweek inside. He’d not been able to understand the words, but he heard the muffled talking of quiet voices and it reassured him that things could not be quite so dire.
As they emerge, Simmons and Laura have Tweek between them, both women leaned sharply towards the short blond doing his best to curl over his aching stomach. He barely seems to notice Craig.
“Mom? Tweek?” The brunette makes to follow them, gathering his and Tweek's stuff.
“Can’t take you with me.” Laura shrugs awkwardly while supporting Tweek, not halting the slow pace towards the door. “And I forgot to bring a pair of pants, so you’re just going to have to tough it out.”
“What?” Craig’s voice strains just a touch, and Tweek hears it and makes an unhappy noise.
“Go to class. You can take the bus home or get a ride from Token if he drove.” Laura’s voice is firm, raised brows challenging her son to defy her.
Knowing it’s useless he holds out to her Tweek’s backpack with a middle finger. She shoulders it with a huff and flips him off right back. The nurse signs Tweek out quickly on a clipboard hanging by the door. Craig lingers, neatly in the way.
“Go!” Laura snaps.
Craig grabs his backpack and stomps out into the hall, out of the way to let them. He watches Tweek be escorted out the double doors towards the parking lot. His boyfriend too dazed to do more than send Craig a wide-eyed look of panic.
-----
Thomas calls just after Laura and the nurse get a feverishly panting Tweek buckled into the front seat which is cushioned by three old and ratty towels.
“Hello?” Laura answers tightly, sliding into the driver’s side.
“Hi. I got ahold of Dr. Ellen at the clinic, she said to bring Tweek straight there,” Thomas informs, his voice stiff and uncomfortable. “Do.. you need me to go too?” He asks, practically praying she will say no.
“YES Thomas!” Laura replies immediately. “I don’t know any more about this shit than you do! Just meet us at the clinic, got it?”
“...Yes dear,” He concedes. “Love you.” And hangs up.
Laura heaves a sigh, turns the key, rolls down the windows, flicks on the car fans, and pulls from her spot. South Park’s Community Health Clinic is roughly half an hour away from the high school and Laura gives it a little extra gas as the heavy scent coming off Tweek grows overbearing again.
“I’m s-oRRY,” Tweek rests his cheek against the window pane, soaking in the cold glass despite the stiffness hurting his chattering jaw.
“It’s ok, Tweek,” She sighs yet again, as much a stranger to comfort as Craig had once been. “Just try and rest till we get there.”
Tweek grimaces but closes his eyes.
-----
Laura slows into a parking spot in the clinic lot some time later, and she quickly turns off the car and gets out, thankful to gulp in fresh air for the time she needs to move around to help Tweek out the passenger door. He’s quietly crying, so overwhelmed by the fever in his body and the growing need invading his senses that he cannot help it.
“I w-want Craig,” He whimpers quietly, looking up at her with wide, hazy eyes. Laura undoes his seatbelt and pulls him out of the car onto his feet.
“You’ll see Craig later today.” She assures him, knowing it might not be true.
Other patients and employees pulling up to the clinic or loitering outside with coffee and smokes look up, some with alarm, some with eyes that darken and become unreadable.
Laura curses a man who suddenly moves away from where he’s been leaning on the handicap ramp guardrail smoking, only to crowd into her and Tweek’s space, pushing them into the concrete side wall.
“Fucker! What the hell is your problem?” She growls, middle finger snapping up at him.
The man--older than herself and maybe older than Thomas too, smartly dressed and keen eyed--sneers at her finger and takes a deep pull of his cigarette, gaze locked onto Tweek calculatingly, whose shaking is starting to resemble a standing seizure.
“You got a ripe Omega there, lady. First Heat I’m guessing? Such a powerful smell.” His voice takes on a growl, brown eyes bisected by slitted pupils. “I can help him the natural way.”
The man blocks the Beta mother and Tweek, his steps intentionally predacious. Laura can’t detect the man in terms of “Alpha”, but she knows a fucking creep when she meets one.
“Back off!” She yells, and it seems to wake some of the gawkers from their stupor. Simultaneously Thomas bursts out of the clinic’s doors, sensing his wife’s distress and hearing her voice.
Two nurses and Thomas get between the Alpha, Betas and Omega.
“What the hell is going on here? Laura? Get Tweek the fuck inside!” Thomas would have punched the Alpha--that slitted stare still trained on Tweek--the boy frozen by those eyes, as if he saw no one else--but for the nurses that got between them.
“Sir,” A woman with light pink scrubs and black hair in a long swaying ponytail says sternly. “You need to break Fixation immediately! That is not your Omega!”
Laura flips off her husband, relieved to see him, and ushers Tweek inside, nearly half crouched by how little effort Tweek makes as he walks.
Automatic glass doors open, and a bell attached to it which clangs metallic and loud draws attention to the two entering. Behind a plastic window the receptionist looks up from her desk, eyes blinking, nostrils flaring. She beckons to Laura and Tweek and then turns quickly around to say something to a coworker before they reach reception.
“Hi,” The woman greets jovially, forcibly calm as her job requires. “Are you Mrs. Tucker and Tweek Tweak?”
“Yes.”
“Doctor Ellen’s expecting you. Go on through the door to your left and into room six at the end of the hall. We’ll take care of paperwork after he’s been seen. I'll send your husband in when he comes back inside.”
“Alright. Come on Tweek, just a little further.” Laura urges Tweek to take more steps.
“I nEED coffee,” Tweek whines in reply. Everything’s blurry around him, where he’s trapped in fearalphadominance and hotfeverpain. Coffee would help. Where’d his thermos even go?
"I'll get you some coffee later." Laura can still feel the eyes of the other people from the lobby on her back after the door closes to room six. Tweek’s pants are soggy and cold and immediately soak the patient's chair paper cover when she gets him up there. His tail’s fur is matted and dripping.
“What is this?” He asks through a pained gasp. “I’m dying? That must be it right? Aren’t I?!” He makes a loud sound, one of his tics exacerbated by stress.
Doctor Ellen knocks twice, enters and locks the door before Laura can finish rolling her eyes.
“Hello Mrs. Tucker, Mr. Tweak. I understand you are this child’s guardian currently?” She wastes no time, taking a seat on a rolling stool and taping a panel on the wall by the small sink, making an inlaid tablet switch on. She swipes screens three times and opens an app.
“Yes, the Tweak’s are out of town. Tweek is my son’s boyfriend so he's staying with us.”
“I see. How old are you Tweek?”
“O-ow...”
“He’s fourteen.”
Dr. Ellen makes a note. “How much do you weigh?”
Tweek coughs and shifts uncomfortably.
“I need to know what you weigh for the dose of medication.”
Laura taps Tweek’s shoulder when he doesn’t answer, instead just panting through the cramps, curling tighter on the table.
“I don’t know! A-a hundred--and five--I think!” He finally cries, twisting onto his other side. “J-Jesus, Make it STOP!”
Ellen stands, seemingly unaffected by Tweek’s outbursts and opens a cabinet above the sink to retrieve a syringe, a vial of red liquid and a BPI cuff.
She takes the BPI cuff and removes Tweek’s still unbuttoned shirt before velcroing it tight around his bicep. A few pumps of air and several heavy breaths from Tweek and she tears the velcro and sets it aside.
The doctor addresses Laura, as Tweek is clearly becoming unable to process what’s happening.“I would not normally do this, but these are extraordinary circumstances... that are not without consequence.” Craig’s mom takes Tweek’s hand, knowing how her son would be doing so if he were here.
Thomas quietly enters the room, looking for all the world that he'd rather be anywhere else. His shirt is wrinkled at the collar, the corner of his lip bloody. He closes the door and answers Laura's questioning glance with a shake of his head--'Later,' he mouths.
“I’m going to give him a drug that will forcibly halt his Heat, for now. There are side effects you will need to manage,” She warns. “And unfortunately it’s going to disrupt his cycle permanently.”
Tweek tries his best to hear what's happening, but it's so hard--the world is spinning madly.
"Is that safe?" Laura asks quietly.
A beat. Doctor Ellen's voice drops quietly. "The alternative is..."
But Tweek can't hear the doctor over the rushing blood in his ears. He just knows that he isn’t safe, and right now all he wants is the familiar scent and arms of his boyfriend.
A few tense minutes later and his pants are opened and lowered, the top of his rear exposed. A cold swipe of antiseptic follows and then a needle slides into the thick muscle of his backside.
-----
Back at the school, ripples of effect spread out from Tweek’s unexpected Presenting; an Omega as young as Tweek going into Pre-Induction in the middle of the cafeteria with all his Pre-Presenting classmates near him and then Full Induction in the halls--unleashes a cocktail of hormonal, instinctual responses right and left.
Gossip flies from lips--wolves who knew, wolves who’d never heard of Heats before, wolves who have family who are Omega and Alpha. Amused and angry seniors crowing at the younger wolves. Disdain for the human wolf who left, distrust and disgust and curiosity abounds. Cliques huddle together like packs drawing from a herd, plotting and planning and worrying in degrees with narrowed eyes on anyone that draws too near.
For the coffee-rich smell of Tweek’s slick, his whimpers and moans as everything flipped in his brain sent signals to others that it was time to Present as well--being of an age group and part of the 3rd tier pack to the twitchy blond wolf--his schoolmates’ bodies all shudder and prepare for change. Teachers struggle to keep focus on lessons, lost in their own instincts, defenseless against a bomb of horomones blowing up in the cramped halls of a small building.
Kenny, who had been right there when Tweek’s Heat transitioned from Pre-to-Full just like Craig was, feels it hard and it is fucking him up. He’s been dizzy from the end of lunch on, unable to get the thick smell out of his nose. It twisted in his stomach, making him sweat in his patch-work parka which was seemingly holding on to the smell just to torment him.
All day he has only thought of Tweek; how vulnerable the boy is now, how scared and pained he looked. He finds himself wanting to get to Tweek’s side and stay there as extra eyes and claws to protect him. He doesn’t quite know why--Craig is all the protection Tweek needs, surely.
Himself and Tweek… they aren’t even close.
Kenny passes a teacher’s lounge on his way to Study Hall, the door ajar and his wolf ears perk curiously. There’s a reason Kenny knows everything, after all. He plasters himself to the windowless side of the door and closes his eyes to listen.
“--Send everyone home already!” A female’s voice grouses. It’s what’s-her-name, from the Home Economics class he took in Elementary. “I’m sick to my stomach from that disgusting smell. None of my girls can function!”
“I had to repeat myself a dozen times, at least. Nobody’s paying attention to anything now. Everybody’s just screwin’ around.” Mr. Adler, shop class teacher, again.
“I’m not going to send the children home.” PC Principal declares, halting the arguments. “They’re just going to have to learn about these things early, bro. We’re not going to send them home without any information so they can pick up biases towards human wolves that experience Heats.”
“Is… is that really our place?” A soft, feminine voice protests nervously. Kenny places it as Ms. Ling, the art teacher. “We should leave that to the parents… We don’t even know what the child is...”
“The nurse confirmed the Tweak boy to be an Omega.” The counselor, mister… something, says. Craig would know. “A lot of our students’ parents have only limited information themselves. Classic Alphas and Omegas grow more rare with every generation, especially in a small town like South Park. We can’t rely on them not being prejudiced or having large gaps in their knowledge or even the wrong facts altogether.”
“Well said, bro.” Confirms PC Principal. “As you all may know, not only am I PC but I'm a PC Alpha. It’s my job to help those lower on the Alpha Spectrum and Omegas figure out their changing bodies without judging them. We’ll send a memo to all parents telling them I’m hosting a PTA meeting this Thursday night. I’m also going to call a friend of mine to get some teachers here for early sex ed to replace all independent study classes for the semester.”
“Is that really necessary?” Someone sighs. “It’s just one freshman.”
“‘Just one freshman’?” PC Principal repeats, miffed. Kenny can picture him posturing widely. “This shit’s important!”
Kenny moves on.
It’s all anyone can talk about in the halls. The old janitor has gone around and set up fans in the school halls and opened the windows despite the chill outside to try and get rid of the smell. He spends nearly two hours grumbling to himself while mopping up and sanitizing places Tweek had been, including the nurse's office.
Kenny is surprised to see Craig in Study Hall when he gets there, glaring at nothing.
“What're ya still doing here?” Kenny asks him, muffled in his old hood, taking the empty desk besides the black wolf.
“What do you want?” Craig asks after a moment, eyeing Kenny suspiciously.
“Nothing, just … y’know. I would'a thought you’da gone on home with Tweek.”
Craig’s focus detaches, going distant for a moment before he scowls. “They wouldn’t let me. I tried.”
The hooded blond hums thoughtfully. “What the hell even happened?” How much do you honestly know what happened? He means.
“You were there. Tweek… I dunno. Got sick, or something.”
“The teachers are sayin' he went into Heat," Kenny corrects, pushing a little. “He fuckin’ went into Heat in school. How did he not like--know to stay home?”
“The fuck should I know?” Craig growls, getting out a textbook he’s not going to read and a notebook he’s only going to scratch angrily in. He just wants to go, be by Tweek's side and know his boyfriend is okay. His spazy gets overwhelmed by a cold; it wouldn't be surprising if he couldn't tell this was something much different until it was too late.
Not to mention his parents, who never would’ve taught him about it, leaving Tweek ignorant of his own body. Craig’s not positive his own folks know anything either.
“I guess you wouldn't.” Kenny concedes, pulling out some books from his ratty old backpack. Looking around, he doesn’t think many others will be getting much studying done either--everyone has far away expressions on their faces and excited rumor on their lips.
Craig doesn't voluntarily talk to Kenny the rest of the period, and the second the last bell rings he’s out and on the way to the bus circle, ready to get the fuck out of there and be with Tweek.
Kenny is close behind, though he climbs onto a different bus, grabbing a seat up front with Cartman, Stan, Kyle, Jimmy and Butters.
They’d barely sat down before the rumor mill chatter exploded through the bus, waving up and down like tides with different I wonder s and what if s on the crests.
“B-Boy did you fellas hear about all what happened! A-ay’ve had a big ole’ headache all day long!” Butters starts in a hurry the second the door closed and the bus kicked into gear.
“How could we miss it?” Stan comments, face blank. “It’s all anyone can talk about and--”
“--It was the most disgusting smell,” Kyle sniffs, finishing Stan’s sentence easily, his nose scrunched tight. “I sure as fuck hope I don't get a Heat; I’d be fine being a Beta if I don't have to deal with that.” He’s got his phone out, Googling articles about Heats, opening links about Omegas, Betas and Alphas in separate tabs.
“I-I-I’ll say,” Jimmy agrees. “I’m used to w-w-weir-weir-r---bizarre shit happening, b-but that t-t-takes the cake.”
Cartman sneers. “If Tweek was going to come to skool and fuck up everybody's day I’d’ve liked a bit of goddamned warning!”
“Seriously, his parents should’ve kept him home if he was going to hit Heat soon.” Stan agrees mildly. “They should’ve known he’s an Omega by now.”
Kenny doesn’t get a chance to pipe up--Kyle goes over his words to get there first.
“Actually, an Omega shouldn’t go into Heat until they’re at least sixteen,” Kyle informs authoritatively, scanning his phone’s display. “Alphas aren’t supposed to until they're sixteen or so either. And it says here that there are things that can cause a wolf to develop early and skip a Pre-Heat Presentation--which makes sense, right? A lot of illegal drugs but caffeine’s high on the list too. Tweek’s been drinking coffee since he was born.” He knew the kid’s parents were idiots. “It would make sense.”
“I bet his mom’s titty milk was just coffee.” Cartman snickers. “Jesus what the fuck did his parents do to him?” An echo of a long-held sentiment.
“Gross,” Kenny mumbles, slouching into his foam and rubber seat, growing distracted by his own fluttering stomach and the upcoming chaos.
“It’s true!”
“Still gross.”
Stan adjusts his hat, leg jittering. “Omegas,” The word stirs something inside Stan, but he has no idea what. “What else does it say about them?”
“Uh,” Kyle’s green eyes fixate on his phone, dissecting the text for the most relevant bits. “‘Omegas are really rare--usually a family tree might have just two Omegas every other generation.’”. He scans a little further down. “‘Alphas are much less uncommon but unlike Omegas there’s a lot of Alphas that are closer to being Betas in the spectrum, with milder heats.
‘A Classic Alpha usually has violent tendencies or a highly domineering personality. Classic Alphas are almost as rare as Omega’s and should not be around them unless they’re mated because of their violent nature.’” Kyle’s eyes flick up to Cartman, who raises an eyebrow at him above a growing smirk. Kyle rolls his eyes back to the screen.
The bus pulls up to it’s first stop, letting out Jimmy and a few others.
“S-s-see ya guys,” Jimmy waves as he climbs off. Stan and Kenny hold up their hands for a quick wave.
The bus starts to move again before Kyle speaks again, almost to himself.
“Dude...”
“What?”
“It says here that all Omegas can get pregnant; girls AND boys.”
“Holy moley!” Butter’s exclaims.
A few beats of silence and then Cartman breaks into obnoxious guffaws that override the other conversations on the bus, catching attention from the other students.
“Are you kidding me?” He demands too loudly between peals of mirth. “Tweek can have that asshole Craig’s butt babies?”
Kyle glares, waiting for Cartman’s laughter to die down before he corrects him. It doesn’t, so he growls over him anyways.
“No, it says here that Omegas can only get pregnant from an Alpha with something called a 'knot'. We don't know if Craig’s going to be an Alpha and have one or not.”
“Tweek shouldn’t be allowed to get pregnant--that baby would be seriously fucked up!” Cartman howls, ignoring Kyle's words. “And it’ll have to be sent to the Crack Baby orphanage!”
"Tweek's not on crack, fatass!"
“D-does that mean that everybody has a-a uterus? Just in case they're an Omega too?” Butters asks, but is also ignored.
“Shut the fuck up Cartman, you’re literally the worst.” Kyle huffs, just done with him. Cartman slaps his own leg and pretends to get himself under control, pudgy cheeks billowing with restrained chortles.
“Why do I feel like I've never even heard of these things before,” Stan grumbles. “Do we even know any Alphas or Omegas?”
None of them can think of anyone. Maybe Mr. Slave but who knows for sure?
“But we can't ALL have parents who are just Betas, right?” Kyle persists.
“A-ay don’ wanna be no Omega or nuthin’,” Butters mumbles, rubbing his fists together. “M-my dad would probably ground me.”
“I dunno Kyle, this all sounds fake as fuck.” Stan slumps into his seat, shrugging at Butters’ comment.
Kenny can't help but want to agree--the little bubble over South Park’s ninth graders is bursting, and though they've been wolves their whole lives it doesn't change how infrequently they’ve been told about anything useful concerning it.
“And an Omega’s heat--especially their first one,” Kyle begins to summate, unable to resist his initial research. “Is exceptionally intense and sex driven. They used to--ah gross!” Kyle’s eyes pinch closed, the bridge of his nose compressed between his fingers. “They used to sell Omegas Heats,” Voice twisted bitterly. “And use them as dowries for arranged marriages.”
“Are you for serious?” Butters asks, wide-eyed.
“It’s still legal to sell an Omega’s Heat as long as they provide consent before the Heat begins. But the law requiring written consent is less than fifteen years old and their can still parents sign off on a sale in the Omega’s place. What the fuck is wrong with people?” Kyle sets his phone down in his lap, which he clicks off, tired of the topic for now.
“That’s messed up.” Stan agrees instantly. He’s relieved to see the conversation dying, though. Tweek is going to come back to school and it’ll all just be another singular, weird event in South Park. It’s really just Craig and Tweek’s problem after all.
That’s his wishful thinking.
-----
Craig forced Clyde to scoot in and let him have the aisle seat across from Token, forcing the pudgy brunette to pull his backpack into his lap with a pout.
Both his friends share a glance behind Craig’s back.
“So, uh,” Token starts.
“No.” Craig cuts him off. “I can’t tell you anything--I have no fucking clue what happened.”
“Aw c’mon!” Clyde whines. “We all know Tweek came to school and hit puberty in the hallway!”
“Clyde!” Token chides.
“What? He totally did.”
“The teacher’s sent out email or phone notices for all the parents. Hopefully they’ll tell us something more.” Token reasons. "Drop it until then or Craig might punch you."
Craig rolls his eyes; his parents might, because of Tweek, but he can’t count on anyone elses’. Token’s, Wendy’s, Kyle’s probably--though he likely spent all day googling what’s happened on his cell and knows more than they do. Speaking of…
Craig pulls out his phone; he has no new messages.