A/N: So, here it is. My Playa de Losers fic. I apologize for the possible out of characterness. I hope you like this. I, myself, am not a fan of how I ended this chapter. I didn't really know how to end. I promise the next one will be (if only slightly) better. I own not a thing. The usual stuff. If you review, you will be my moon and my stars. But I love all of you, regardless.
Enjoy, Loves.
-Himynameisawks
"Courtney wait!" Duncan shouted after me as he ran down the dock of shame and up to the boat I was so gracefully thrown into. I swear Chris and Chef are so out of line. Ugh, both of them are gonna pay big time for manhandling me. "I made this for you," he called.
"Duncan," I smiled. He threw a small object into my hands. I glanced down at my hands at a tiny skull carved out of wood. "Okay, this is really weird and creepy, but I love it. I'll never forget you," I yelled after him just as the ship captain- or whoever- started sailing me away.
Damn. Okay, Duncan may be totally gross and immature, but all the time we spent together this past week, I don't know, we really clicked. That's the only reason why I kissed him, if I could just justify my actions, he was nice. And Duncan isn't nice to anyone. I felt kind of special, you know? But I am being totally stupid though, I know. Duncan isn't my type, anyway. It was simply adrenaline. It wasn't real. Besides, Duncan is a player. I don't need that in my life, not again.
My little thinking trance was interrupted by my boat basically crashing into the dock. On the shore, there was a huge hotel with only a couple lights on. Otherwise, the whole place was midnight dark. What time is it? If everyone is asleep, then that boat ride was way longer than I thought it would be.
The ship "captain," if you could call him that, came out. And, what a surprise, it was chef. Man, this show creases me. Haven't I suffered enough for one day?
"You can either come out on your own, or I can carry you out, maggot." Chef snarled at me. Wow, rude much?
"I think I can manage on my own," I snapped. Okay, that may have been a little harsh, but I was still pretty pissed. I mean, Harold, really? Well, Duncan did look really confused. And so did the other guys. Something must have happened. I walked up the dock and through the sand, and at the top there was a glass sliding door with a tiny porch light above it. It was kind of tacky to be honest. And I swear like every insect out of the ninth circle of hell was buzzing around that light. I carefully slid the door open and slipped myself and my suitcase inside. I found that there was a set of glass double doors down the hall from where I was standing. In the middle of the doors was a front desk. Chef crept in behind me and slammed the door, and I swear I thought it was going to shatter. Chef really needs to work on his anger issues. Anyway, he shuffled, ever so gracefully, to behind the desk. "You'll be in room 4C. That's the last room on the third floor. Your name will be written next to the room number. Now go, Private." Chef used his permanent yelling voice. As he handed me the rusty key, I heard him mutter, "Take a chill pill, my ass. Damn teenagers." I tried to stifle a laugh as I turned towards the elevator. I giggled to myself. That one was my bad. I don't know what came over me. Duncan just brings out that side of me. I hit the 3 button on the wall of the elevator and leaned against the red rose pattern of the further elevator wall.
It's really messed up how my whole elimination thing went down. I let out a deep sigh, and trudged down the hall to the last room. And sure enough, there was my name. And it was written in comic sans. Wow. Obviously no one working for this dumbass show has any sense of style. It's like everything here is like one cliché after another.
As I thrust the ancient key into the lock, I pushed the door open to reveal a fairly nice looking room. I'm actually impressed. I wonder if all of the rooms look like this. A glass sliding door, remarkably similar to the one I had entered through at the first floor, was at the other side of the room. So, I explored a bit. It's a balcony. From looking around, I guess there was one at every room, excluding the first floor, of course.
If you look really far, you can almost see the island. But, maybe that's just wishful thinking. It's weird that I've spent all my time on the island wishing Duncan would just leave me alone, but now that he's not here…
I shook my head. I'm being totally stupid. I can't miss Duncan. I can't like him. We probably live thousands of miles away. Canada is a big country. I might never see him again after this stupid show is over. I don't know what it is about him that is so enticing. He would really piss off my parents. That's a plus. Ugh. This is all stupid. I stormed off and nearly slammed the door. I plopped on my bed. Despite how upset I am right now, this bed is super comfy. I guess now is a good time for sleep. Maybe things will be better in the morning. Doubtful, but I digress.
The next morning I woke up with a piercing headache. The sun cast a ray of light through the glass doors and onto the snow white carpet. I glanced at the clock on the bedside table next to me. It read 12:42. Shit. I've never slept this late before in my life. I hopped into the shower and did my hair in record time. I was about to leave my room when I noticed a folded piece of paper on the floor next to the door. I picked it up and it read:
Dear Courtney,
I know we weren't close on the island since we weren't on the same team, but I would really like to get to know you if you want. Anyway, there's an all you can eat breakfast buffet until 11:30.
It wasn't fair what happened to you. People can be so totally mean. But, anyway, I hope you feel better soon, and come down to have some fun. There's really a lot to do here. I mean there's a game room, a pool, spa, and even a library. You seem like the type to do a lot of reading, I guess. Talk soon?
Love, Beth xx
Hm. Wait, what did she mean by 'people can be mean?' I would probably go socialize with the other campers eventually, but I don't know if I would talk to Beth. She doesn't seem like my kind of person. Now that you mention it, the people that I did talk to aren't here. Not yet, anyway. It might be a while until I have anyone I was close to, actually show up.
That thought alone made me want to turn around and climb back into bed, but my overbearing hunger quickly changed my mind. Chef's food really does take a toll on you after a while. Not like I ate it most of the time. In retrospect, that wasn't really a good decision. But, seriously, did you see that food? I'm not sure that half of what he served to us was even edible. That had to be against the law, right?
I had to wander a bit before finally finding the dining room, and when I got there, it was completely empty. There was a pretty impressive chandelier hanging from the ceiling though.
Hm. Everyone must be outside. I really don't want to talk to anyone here right now, or any time in the near future, honestly. But, food. Damn.
I slowly and carefully slid open the glass door and slipped myself through it. Apparently, my sneaking technique had failed, because suddenly ten pairs of eyes were on me. I could feel my face flush deep red, and I managed an awkward wave before I shuffled as quickly as possible over to the food table. I picked up a bit of fruit salad and some chocolate Oreo dessert and nearly sprinted back to the elevator.
Okay, I am so not going to do that again. There's still one more day until challenge day, and I would have to wait and see if anyone remotely friend-ish got voted off. It's not that I wanted them to lose, but I guess I would feel a lot better if I had a friend here. Like Bridgette. She was the only real friend I made on the island, and, to be honest, I really miss her.
Even all the times I overreacted and screamed at her, at everyone, she was sweet to me.
Bridgette saw through all of it.
I set the paper plate I had taken from downstairs on my bedside table, and plopped on the crimson comforter. How the hell did this happen? I spooned a mouthful of Oreo into my mouth. Man, I forgot how amazing real food is. Besides our little… party Duncan and I threw with our stolen food, this is the best thing I've tasted in almost a month.
Still, an overwhelming cloud of depression loomed over me that not even chocolate could solve. I missed everything that you could possibly miss about a crappy summer camp. Tears stung at my eyes and threatened to fall, and screw up my mascara. The softness of the bed was now feeling extremely tempting. I laid on my side and fell asleep looking at the skyline.