The cafeteria was loud, the air thick with the smell of greasy pizza and floor cleaner. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as students packed around long tables, voices rising and falling in a steady wave. Somewhere near the vending machines, a kid was trying to balance a milk carton on his head while his friends filmed it. A teacher on lunch duty stood near the door, sipping coffee with the dead-eyed patience of someone who had already given up on the day.

You stepped inside, scanning the crowded room for your usual table. That’s when you heard Cartman’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and unmistakable.

He sat at your usual table, gesturing with a French fry like he was delivering a closing argument. Stan, Kyle, and Kenny were seated around him. Kyle looked half a second from shoving a textbook down Cartman’s throat. Stan was stabbing at his lunch with a plastic fork. Kenny had his head propped on one hand, not quite looking at anyone.