Chapter Text
Snow isn't an odd sight in South Park. In fact, it'd be rare not to see snow, almost impossible, actually.
But you don't know that; there is no snow in your hometown. You can only see it in the south parts of the country or those near the Andes mountain range, both of which are pretty far away from Buenos Aires—not the town, but the province. For all it's worth, there is no snow there at all. It only snowed once in your town, back when you hadn't even been born. The only time you had seen snow before this was when your family took a vacation to Córdoba, up in some mountains.
Snow was not how you had imagined it. It must've been all the cartoons you watched as a kid, they made you believe it was some sort of magic substance, soft yet somehow rough and moldeable, that can be shaped into a perfect, spotless ball. Maybe it was like that somewhere, but in Córdoba, it had sticks, grass and leaves. It was chunky and hard to scoop and shape. It was throughly disappointing.
That was a long time ago. You were 14 then. You are 17 now. The tour bus had stopped near an area with local shops so tourist could buy gifts, and you had been wandering around when you spotted a small table full of snow. The decision was made before your head even came up with it; you tried your best to make a gigant snow pie sorta thing, marched up to your little brother, only 11 at the time, and hit him in the back with it. It broke off and fell to the floor. You heard some old locals laughing at you, they must've been watching the whole ordeal, how mad your little brother had been and how you two spend the entire time play fighting with snow, fake punches and fake kicks while your parents looked around a shop. That was years ago.
Now those kids are in South Park, Colorado. It is very cold. Your feet are buried in the snow and you feel kind of stupid wearing a hat. Your hair must look weird, you think. You've never been good at styling it, it always looked kinda frizzy. Touching it, you can tell its messy, but you wouldn't know how to fix it anyways.
Your brother, not so little anymore, comes near you. He is now 14, and despite his face being full of pimples, his hair being awkardly ourgrown and curly, him now being at least two heads taller than yourself, you can't help but see a kid. He is a kid.
He's wearing his headset of earphones on his neck, the video he had been watching on the ride home is still playing loud enough to hear bits of it, but you can't make sense of the words all that much. He shoves you. You shove back, and so begins a play fight with snow, fake punches and fake kicks all over again, while your parents talk to the neighbors—more so, try to.
Your stepdad is loud in nature and his english is few and broken, but he's communicating with a bearded man with one of those tiny jewish hats, using hand gestures and a mix of thrown out words to talk to him. Your mom, more knowledgeable in the language than your stepdad, is trying to talk to a fat woman with red hair and a blue sweater while you and your little brother fake fight, embarassing her publicly instead of helping with the boxes, and your stepdad 'talks' loud enough for everyone on the neighborhood to hear.
You are much too old to be doing this, this is kid's play, and your mom is trying to talk and make a good impression. This is a new country, a new town, with new neighbors and a new language. You feel almost embarrassed to be doing this, at your old age in this new place, but can never turn your little brother down when he wants to play; he is growing up. he is taller than you, his voice is deeper than yours, and you know he is only doing this because he's uncomfortable in this new place and wants something familiar, like you. You just can't say no to that.
Your 'fight' is silent and looks dumb to anyone watching it, you are kicking at each other's feet and pinching each other in the ribs, smiling and chuckling to yourselves, doing the sound effects with your mouths. You notice he is not wearing his hat. He must think he looks stupid in it, and he probably kind of does. You realize you have actually never seen him wear a hat before, if you think about it, you've barely even seen him with hoods on.
Eventually your stepdad finishes his attempt at communication and asks you both for help with boxes and small furniture. Neither one of you is particularly strong, despite your age and your brother's size. You can only carry two bags of stuff and your brother struggles to carry a lamp and a medium box.
"Al final, entendiste algo?" You ask your stepdad now that he's done. He has an habit of mocking strangers when they talk to him. You can tell he was just bullshitting the bearded man in whatever he was trying to communicate. [So, did you understand anything?]
"Na, es re boludo ese, (Name). Tiene pinta de que no sabe ni que es una tuerca.." He made a dismissive hand gesture with his hands as he said that and shook his head, then signaled towards the moving truck with his head. His voice is raspy and he is under dressed for the snow—the neighbors almost seem under dressed too. The furniture was a mixed of new and used, but only few came to this country with you. [Nah, that one's freaking dumb, (Name). He looks like he wouldn't even know what a nut is...]
It had all mostly stayed back home. These were all either bought online by your mom, or bought in the road to South Park, or disassembled by your stepdad and brought here for argentina—only small, sentimental things. A lamp he made for you, an old white desk full of your little brother's angry scribbles he used to do as a child,
a few frames your stepbrother had made for him when he was little..
Your stepdad moves fast and efficiently. It almost makes you feel a little dumb, how you can't even move a big box while he can carry two of them..
You end up making use of your brain and come up with the idea of filling the bedside tables' storage drawer with whatever fits in there, then you taking it inside while he takes care of the other one. He is slower and clumsier than you, so you end up dragging it inside for him while he goes look for another thing. You notice a few kids your age looking at you from the neighbor's window as you enter the house and try your best not to stare back at them. They are wearing a hat even inside the house.. A parka, a beanie, and a trapper hat.
When you come outside, you realize they must have thought your brother was their age, because they are talking to him. He looks ready to head inside and lock himself in his (future) room, standing much too tall and much too confused at the rapid fire english, looking pretty moody about it. The kids seem let down by his lack of an energetic response or any kind of emotion other than confusion, so, while you would usually let him deal with it, you decide today is the day you help your brother out of awkard situations,, by crashing headfirst into them.
You can speak english the best in your family, having been watching english youtubers play minecraft at 12 and playing games in english. You can do this, you know you can. Your english might have an accent and you might hurry up the words, but it is something..
"Hey! I'm (Name). ehh, my little brother doesn't speak much english, sorry! His name's Santiago.. Who.. Who are you?" it sounded awkard and not at all like someone who isn't scared to speak, but at least it was a start. You felt so stupid when speaking English, for some reason.. Maybe its because you aren't used to it, but it just feels like something is blocking your tongue all the time. You hope your hair doesn't look that stupid under the hat, and that you look decent enough, and that they don't think you sound odd—you probably do.
"Oh, sorry, dude. Uh, I'm Stan. We were trynna ask your brother if he'd like to come hang out. We're playing guitar hero back at Kyle's house.. Uh, our friend couldn't make it." said the one with black hair and a beanie, taking his gloved hands out his pocket to point at the one with a trapper hat—Kyle, who nodded. All three of them seem kind of unsure now, either because your brother is not the age they thought or because he doesn't speak any english.
"Ohh, I'll ask him, yeah.. Uhm, sorry if this is—ehh, out of pocket? But, can I go too? I don't want to help with the moving.." you mumbled, the worse they can say is no; the best is yes, but you were still nervous to ask.
"Yeah, dude." Stan nodded with a shrug.
"San, dicen que si no queres ir a la casa a jugar Guitar Hero por que su amigo no fue... Yo si voy." you turned to your brother, feeling kind of awkard for the 3 pair of eyes watching you. [San, they're asking if you wanna go to their house and play Guitar Hero cuz their friend never came.. I'm going.]
"Ehh, la verdad no, pero no hay wifi, asi que.. mhm. Bueno." he shrugged and squinted. He was never a social butterfly, neither are you, but it is what it is—you need to at least have friends. [Uhh, not really, but we don't have wifi, so.. mhm. Alright..]
"Eh, bueno, preguntale a mamá si te deja. Te esperamos aca." you turned, this time to the guys "he's gonna ask my mom, cuz he's 14 and we don't know if she needs our help or not and stuff.. you know..." [Uh, alright, go ask mom if you can go. We'll wait for you here.]
"He... is 14? Santiago?" The one with the orange parka spoke up. It was difficult for you to understand him, he sounded kinda muffled.
"Uh, yeah, he's just.. tall. He's just a kid. I'm 17, I'm the middle child." you mumbled awkardly. The red-haired lady was now trynna talk to your brother while you stared. "She really likes to talk.." you commented—you camr to this realization on the way to this town; english is not your first language, and so you can actually use it as an excuse for your awkwardness instead of blaming it on your lack of social skills.
"Yeahh, she does. Uhm, that's my mom. She'll keep him there for a while.." said kyle, letting out a sigh. an awkard silence was forming, in your unprofessional opinion, so you tried your best to make small talk..
"so uh, what—no, sorry.. who are you? what are your names?" you were pretty sure you did know their names, but you've never been good with them and the orange one hadn't said his.
"Right, uh, I'm Kyle, this is Kenny." Kenny mumbled something that sound like "hey," but you couldn't quite understand him unded thar parka. "Im your neighbor," Kyle pointed to himself, "Kenny, Stan and I are gonna be your classmates, probably.."
"Ah.. Okey. I'm (Name), my little brother is Santiago.." you repeated yourself, in case they forgot or simply weren't listening. It was kinda stupid to do so, you thought zbut it was the first thing that came out your mouth. "Uh, is it normal in here to invite, ehh, people on the street to your house?" it was a genuine question. It wasn't normal in your town back at home..
"Like, homeless people?" Kenny raised an eyebrow. It was kinda funny how you could only see a bit of his face.
"No, no! like, eh," you couldn't help but give an awkard laugh, "strangers! like, people you don't know?"
"oh, well, yeah? not adults, but, like, people your age, dude.. Thats why we invited him, we thought he was gonna be our new classmate." Stan spoke up this time.
"Oh. That's crazy.." you look down at your sneakers, not really knowing what else you could say, and so following it up with something completely unrelated;
"uh, how do you play guitar hero? I've never played it before.." you smiled awkardly. You never liked your smile much, or knew how to do it on purpose.
All of the questions you asked were mostly just textbook questions. You learned them back home, in primary school. You never thought you'd actually use them—They're moatly mundane questions & what to answer to them.. How are you? I am fine. How old are you? I am this years old. Do you like Hotdogs? yes I so, no I dont, etc etc.. You aren't even sure how do you remember some of these, but whatever works not to leave in silence.
When Santiago is freed from Kyle's mom, you all head to his house, where Santiago plugs into the wifi and puts his headphones on, rarely speaking but kinda paying attention.
Guitar Hero turned out to be.. harder than it looks, apparently. Or maybe you're just bad at it. Between laughing at your hands freezing when a lot of notes came into the screen, horrible combos and bad jokes, it suddenly didn't matter all that much that your english kinda sounded like spanish, that this was a new country and that you didn't know these boys much. it turns out teenage humor is the same globe around, sex, dick, and pussy—it didnt take long for actual conversation to start, with jokes and laughs and all that jazz. Talking didn't feel as awkard or forced now!
"—I didnt know snow was so cold tho. i though it was just like when its.. cold outside." you commented. Stan and Kyle were playing while you sat next to Kenny—turns out he was cool, surprisingly handsome, and you could actually understand him when he had his parka down.
"Uh? Snow is cold 'like when it is cold,' what do you mean?" he said with a smirk. it didn't feel mean, it made you laugh, actually.
"Yeah but like.. cold. colder! the word is cold-er," you put emphasis in it and shook your head. "Its colder than I thought it would be, i meant. Snow is colder than cold."
"Must've been a surprise.." Kenny mumbled mockingly as he shoved chips down his throat.
"Que dijo?" Santiago asked, taking off his headphones and looking up from his phone. [What'd he said?]
"Que sos re boludo, y se rio de mi por que yo no sabia que la nieve daba tanto tanto frio." you said the first thing with a smile. It was obviously a lie, and your brother knew it. You always do the same joke when people ask that. Santiago let out a mocking "ha-ha" at Kenny mocking you, tho. [He said you're really dumb, and he laughed at me cuz I didn't know snow was this cold.]
"What he said?" asked Kenny this time.
"You're so nosyy..." You gave a deep, fake sigh. "He asked what did you say, and that you're really dumb. And I told him what you said. That's all... Oh, by the way, is it always cold in here?" you didn't bother to explain the joke, you simply assumed he'd know.
"Nah, its alright. . Like, it snows a lot, but its not thaaat bad.. In the summer, you can see the grass. The trees and bushes do have snow sometimes, tho." Kenny said as he grabbed the controller. It was his turn to play with Kyle.
"Thats crazy! We used to have a pool back at home. Don't you guys get in the pool in the summer?"
Stan sat besides you and immediately grabbed the bag of chips from your lap. "Why would we get into a pool in freezing temperatures?" He said amusedly through a mouthful.
"Is it freezing in summer?" You shut your mouth realizing that was a stupid question.
"Ohh, no, but summer sucks. You can't do anything in the summer. It does snow in summer sometimes, but mostly nothing... we do have a community pool tho." he shrugged.
"That sounds awful."
"You don't like community pools?"
"What if a kid pees in there?" you shook your head and took a sip of the soda can they gave you.
"It gets diluted." He said simply.
"How'd you know?"
"'Cause i used to pee in there as a child, so.. It gets diluted." He said as he looked at the screen, completely ignoring the way you paused to stare at him. He looks amused.
"Damn. Just like that, huh... Why didn't you just go pee in—? Doesn't matter. Uh, I'm not going swimming with you, you know?" this makes him laugh. He doesn't seem like the tyoe of guy who'd laugh at that kinda stuff.
"Okay, fair..." He smirked and took the bag of chips again, which he had left on the floor before.
You looked out at the street again, looking for something else to say. "All the houses look the same here, too. That's wild. And none of the windows have bars on them! Why don't you guys have bars on your windows?"
"Isn't that for, like... really bad neighborhoods?" Stan asks, frowning a little.
"No! Everyone has them where I'm from. Why don't you have them?"
"Cuz we're not an unsafe neighborhood?" Stan pushes back. "Dude, not even Kenny's family has bars on their windows."
"Yeah, man, what the hell?" Kenny said from his spot in front of the TV.
"Dude, get a grip! You killed our 50-combo!" Kyle yells at Kenny as the game screen flashes red.
"Sorry!"
Eventually, they switch from Guitar Hero to a Dragon Ball Z fighting game. You quickly confirm that you are terrible at video games of all kinds, but your little brother is shockingly good. Soon enough, Santiago, Stan, and Kenny are taking turns on the controllers while you and Kyle sit back on the couch.
It feels a little awkward to just sit and stare at the TV, so you decide to try what you've been attempting to do all afternoon: say what's on your mind and try to sound mildly casual.
"So, uhm... I have a question. How do you guys all know each other? Is there a school nearby?"
"Yeah, there is," Kyle answers, leaning back. "It's where you're gonna go, I think. Didn't your parents already sign you up? That's how word got around that someone new was moving in."
"I guess they did? I'm not sure... I don't pay much attention when they talk. My mom is kinda annoying..."
"Dude, tell me about it," Kyle sighs heavily, rolling his eyes. "My mom talks so, so loud. And she makes a fuss out of nothing, too. Like, my room isn't even messy, but if it were, she'd probably have my head on a plate or something."
Damn, you touched a nerve it seems.. I mean, classing teenage bonding, isn't it? Parents suck and stuff..
"It's so embarrassing when she flips out over minor stuff," Kyle continues, clearly passionate about the topic of his mom being annoying. "Like... Ugh, back when we were nine, the school canceled the Christmas play because I'm Jewish, and she went crazy over it. And now she's always starting drama in the parents' group chats over tiny things, getting into everyone's business... Ugh, mann.."
You don't really know what to say to that, so you just listen and let him keep going. You hand him a soda as some kinda answer. He takes it. He's still wearing his green hat thing, even indoors.
"And she made this whole huge deal about us 'not looking friendly to immigrants in this country' or whatever," Kyle adds, turning to look at you. He looks both bored and annoyed. "No offense, dude, but we only came outside to invite you guys because she basically forced us to earlier, like, before she went out to talk to your parents. We were just gonna wait and see who you were at school on Monday, honestly.. You're cool, though.. And your brother's chill."
"Uh, it's alright," you say, giving a small shrug. "I wouldn't have come over to say hi either if you were the new one.." realizing how mean that sounded, you were quick to add "I'd be too lazy to walk across the street, I mean." after a bit of an awkard silence, not really knowing what else to say, you realized you hadn't even acknowledged his compliment. "You're cool too. Sorry about your mom being.. Uh, annoying, i guess. She seemed nice.. Earlier today.. Uhm, you can come hang out at my house if she's ever getting on your nerves." you paused for a second, wondering if that made any sense in English, or if it sounded weirdly out of place. It probably sounded weird, but it's too late to take it back now.
Kyle kind of pauses too, looking down at his hands before leaning back against the couch cushions and crossing his arms. "Uh, thanks. You can knock on the door or whatever if you're ever bored." He glances back up at you. "I guess it's not so bad she made us talk to both of you, otherwise, we'd just be staring at each other across the homeroom on Monday."
"Yeah," you chuckle, rubbing the back of your neck. "That would be... way more awkward."
Over by the TV, a loud, violent explosion rocks the speakers. Kenny lets out a muffled yell of defeat as Santiago's character casually blows his avatar off a snow-covered cliff. Stan turns to Kenny, looking stuoidly surprised at a somewhat simple game feature.
"Dude, no way!" Stan squeaks, his voice pitchy now, not like how it sounded when talking in the couch, pointing at the screen. "He didn't even turn around! He killed you without looking!"
Santiago chuckles and mumbles something in spanish, his shoulders lift in a tiny, subtle shrug. He doesn't really understand most of what Stan said, but he understood the word 'kill' and his surprised tone.. Underneath his overgrown hair, you catch the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth—the universal sign of absolute, smug victory. He adjusts his headphones around his neck, and looks at you with that stupid smile. You give him a thumbs up and a smile.
Eventually, your mom yells across the street for you two to come back and help unpack the rest of the boxes. Everything needs to get inside before it gets pitch black and freezing cold out.
You say goodbye to your new neighbors and his friends, and the two of you walk back across the snow-covered lawn. It's a short walk, but your mom is already waiting at the front door—force of habit from back home, probably.
"¿Y? ¿Cómo la pasaron?" she asks, wiping her hands on a towel. She must've been cleaning on her own. It kinda makes you feel guikty, but.. not enough to help, also. [So? How'd it go?]
"Yyy bien, dentro de todo," you answer, kicking the snow off your shoes at the welcome mat. "Yo bien. Jugamos al Guitar Hero y me quedé charlando con uno... El hijo de la señora de al lado. Kyle se llama. Es re buenito." [Uhh, pretty alright, all things considered. I had a good time] [We played Guitar Hero and I talked to one of the guys. The neighbor lady's son. His name's Kyle. He's really nice.]
Santiago steps inside behind you, pulling off his damp sneakers. "Bien. Jugué al Dragon Ball Z con el rubio que se llama Kenny y el que tiene el pelo negro. La pasé bien." [Good. I played Dragon Ball Z with the blonde one named Kenny and the guy with black hair. I had a good time.]
With that you went inside. Your stepdad was off buying groceries. Your mom was exhausted. You sit down on the floor and talk with her while unpacking things.