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CRAIG'S POV

We all sat around our "fancy table", which is really just the table we sit at for like Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Of course, I decided to sit across my "bestie" Tweek.

He looked uncomfortable which is the look I wanted.

"So, where are ya moving from?" My Dad says to start off a normal conversation.

"Fort Collins," Mr. Tweak says, "But here, it's very peaceful."

I look at Tweek and decide to start a conversation with him.

"So, are you in the 8th grade?"

He twitches, "Y-Yeah."

I pick at my carrots, that I don't usually eat.

I end up feeding it to my Guinea pig, Stripe.

"You play football?"

"N-No."

"Then what do you do?"

"S-Sell coffee," he says, "Do you by any chance h-have any?"

"Well how the hell am I suppose to know? I don't drink coffee--"

"Craig Tucker watch your language," My mom scolds at me.

I sit back in my chair and sigh.

This kid is boring as fuck.

I can't start a conversation.

And why the hell does twitch so much, he never answered my question.

"Why do you twitch so much?"

And once again he looks at me, "W-Why do you ask so m-many questions?"

I start to get irritated, "Well why can't you just answer me?!"

"B-Because I don't want to--"

"Tweek's a good little helper around the shop, right Tweek?" Tweek's Dad says, interrupting us.

"W-What? Oh y-yeah."

"Oh really? Well what do you do?" My mom says very interested.

"D-Deliver packages m-mostly," he says playing with his fork.

I really want to kick him under the table for some odd reason.

"Oh that's nice, what a great little job to have...I wish Craig was that active to get a job--"

"Mom, for the last time I'm 14 years old! What job could I possibly have?!"

"Actually, we do need some extra help around the shop," Tweek's Mom says.

Oh no.

Oh shit.

I look at my Mom and looks at my Dad who just nods.

SHE ISN'T--

"Craig would love to help around the shop," My Mom smiles.

"WHAT? NO--" Tweek & I say at the same time.

We look at each other and then narrow our eyes.

"This will be a fantastic experience, right Craig?" My Dad says.

"DAD BUT I--"

He scolds at me.

"Yeah...I guess," I say feeling defeated.

BY MY OWN PARENTS!

I look at my little sister who just laughs to herself.

Little bitch.

"So when will he start?" My Mom says.

"Tomorrow after school will be fantastic if that's okay," Mr. Tweak says.

Tomorrow after school is football practice what the fuck.

"Oh that's great! Craig will definitely be there."

I want to jump off of a ten story building.

***THE NEXT DAY AT SCHOOL***

"DOESN'T YOUR MOM KNOW WE HAVE FOOTBALL PRACTICE...YOU'RE OUR ONLY KICKER!" Clyde says getting paranoid at lunch.

"She does but she obviously doesn't give two fucks," I say.

"That new kid is very...quiet," Token says spotting Tweek across the room.

He's sitting by himself eating a sandwich and drinking, of course, coffee.

"Ew gross, sandwiches and coffee? What a bad combination," Clyde says.

"Says the person who puts peanut butter and jelly on their tacos?" Token says.

"Okay, that's actually really good, but you guys wouldn't try it--"

"Why the hell would we want that on our tacos? Ever heard of lettuce? Cheese? Tomatoes--"

"OKAY TOKEN I KNOW WHAT GOES ON TACOS, NO NEED TO LECTURE ME," Clyde says crossing his arms.

I'm just so damn mad I can't even talk.

"Craig, you know you're gonna have to tell coach...right?"

"Aw fuck, I forgot! He's gonna be all like, 'Wow Tucker, joining the coffee industry! You might as well put on a pink tutu with some ballet slippers,'" I say running my fingers through my black hair.

"It's alright, maybe he'll understand," Clyde says trying to make me feel better.

"Thanks but that's not gonna make me feel better," I say.

"Well I tried, do I get a gold sticker for trying?"

"Yeah, sure," I say sarcastically.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

OKAY SO I KNOW OBVIOUSLY THEYRE NOT IN EIGHTH GRADE IN THE SHOW, THEYRE IN THE FOUTH.

BUT WRITING A STORY WITH NINE YEAR OLDS DIDNT QUITE CLICK FOR ME.

ON THE SHOW, YES. THATS WHAT MAKES IT HILARIOUS.

BUT I FIGURED THE AGE ABOUT 14 WAS PERFECT FOR THIS BOOK.

THANK YOU

-Brooke

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