I had watched him slip by. I had grown up with him, I had grown up with my main group of friends (which were Stan, Kyle, me and Cartman) and yet, I never talked to him. I was a wallflower, a third wheel, whatever term you prefer to use, and I knew that I'd be a nobody. That's just who I am.
But when I saw him dating that other girl, Bebe Stevens, it just . . . well, a tinge of jealousy tended to wash over me. I always couldn't help but think "I could've be the one who could hold his hand." I wished that I could've been in Bebe's spot, just for a split second.
I was right in his friend group after all. Stan tends to take up all of the time with him, and I don't mind. Not a single bit. I would never be Kyle's 'super best friend.' I'm not even sure if I'm considered his friend.
I'm in high school now. He and Bebe have been going steady for a year now, and that same touch of jealousy comes over me just as it did day one. It's not that I'm completely gay or anything; I mean come on, Bebe and a few other girls in my grade were hot as fuck. I just didn't prefer them. They were nice eye candy to look at every once in a while, and I always knew that I'd never be in their leagues. I'd never be in Kyle's league either, for that matter.
The only league I've been in is apparently the 'whore line,' since I've only had but a few racy sluts flinging themselves into arms that I didn't want to own. I've tried to make him notice, and he never did.
Until the day that he came crying to my house. It was a perfectly normal Saturday, and we had just begun our fall break. I was planning to sit in my room all day, maybe entertain myself by listening to the idiots I have for parental figures argue downstairs about ridiculous things. I had just finished kicking Karen out of my room when the door rang, and my mom yelled at me to get it.
I distinctly remember trudging to that door, and opening it looking like a sleep-deprived wreck. "What?" I muffled through my unforgettable orange parka that had become a trademark of mine over the years.
"D-do you have a sec?" Kyle barely whispered out. I raised an eyebrow, but let him in, taking the chance to loop an arm around his shoulder. Of course I had a sec for the one I . . . well love is a strong term.
"Sure, but let's go upstairs," I was trying to act nonchalant around him, I tried to pretend like he wasn't the boy I've had a crush on for three years.
"I'm sorry, it's just that Stan w-wasn't home and I just-" He paused to sniffle. He looked really messed up, but I still thought he looked cute. Not that I'd ever admit that though.
"What's wrong?" I asked. I had no idea whjat to even say to the downcast redhead in front of me. He took a seat on my bed, right next to me. It made me giddy with happiness, but I wouldn't let him know that.
"Bebe, she broke up with me." He sniffled again, and I could tell he was struggling not to lose it. She had meant the world to him, I guess. I wished I could be his world. If I could be treated the same as he did Bebe Stevens, I'd feel like a somebody for once in my life.
"Um . . . that sucks ass . . . why?" You wouldn't believe how happy I was. I definitely shouldn't be, but now that he's single . . . I felt like maybe I could have a chance for once.
"I don't even know! She just came over, apologized, and left with that dick Clyde! We've been going out for a year, why the fuck would she do that?!" Now Kyle was in his ranting mode. I just stared at him.
"Oh so Clyde and Bebe are together?" I questioned. It was really becoming quite hard to contain the pure bliss that was circling around in my head. Kyle nodded and looked at the floor.
"I shouldn't have come here," he said and stood up, "sorry Kenny."
'No, no stay,' was what I would've liked to say. Instead, all I managed to choke out was a simple "Okay, bye." I was such a failure.
He awkwardly shuffled out of my room, and I stifled a groan. I had the chance to at least be a friend to him, and I blew it. I wasn't going to get noticed by him, not now, not ever. It was the first time I had ever experienced unrequited love, both romantically and platonically.
It's a truly painful feeling. Just knowing that I could've gotten the chance to hug him, that killed me. Instead, what was I? His worst enemy, Eric Cartman, would probably give him better advice than the crap I just gave him. I asked questions. That was it. I wondered if he even liked me, he never talked to me, and he never looked my way. Why should he though? I'm not anything special. Telling myself that was still getting me nowhere however, I was still that pathetic excuse for a teenager, lying down on my way too worn-out bed. If I was just a little braver, if I was just a little richer, then maybe I could've had him. Maybe if I wasn't the same old Kenny McCormick that nobody notices, then maybe I could've just gotten one special chance.
But no, instead I'm just doomed to the "I could've's"
I could've been the one to tell him when I first knew that I was crushing on him. But I didn't.
And I could've been the one to ask him out. And I wasn't.
I could've also been the one to stay up late doing absolutely nothing with him, other than being the stereotypically stupid teenagers that we sometimes were. But I wasn't.
I guess I could've been the one who brought him cheesy gifts, and took care of him when he was sick (which is quite often, might I add). I wasn't.
And I could've been the one who just got to be with him, which was all I ever wanted. But I wasn't.
The truth is that I was never going to be the one. Because I'm Kenny McCormick.
And Kenny McCormick was doomed to be a nobody.