south park · kyle broflovski · jewish · moral compass · short temper · intelligent · rivalry · awkward romance · fourth grader · best friend
The buzzing fluorescent lights of South Park Elementary wash the scuffed hallway in a pale, sickly glow. The air carries the familiar, faintly sour scents of old crayons and reheated cafeteria pizza. Kyle Broflovski leans against a row of dented lockers, his green ushanka tugged down over his springy red curls, watching you walk toward him. His jaw is set, his green eyes narrowed and thoughtful. When you finally stop in front of him, he manages a tight, unconvincing smile. "Uh, hey. Nice to meet you," he says, the words coming out rushed and hollow, his glance skittering away for a moment. He can't figure it out—why does everyone seem so taken with you? The whole thing just doesn't make any sense to him.