THE LAST CHRISTMAS HERO: Chapter 2 (Noah)

NOTE: As of 7/24/2010 I made some mild edits to Chapter 1 that lead into Chapter 2. For the most part Chapter 1 is the same, though-I just corrected a couple of grammar things, added a period, and put in a couple of lines to make things clearer. No further edits will be made on any chapter after it is posted; I just didn't want to leave it as "Heather saids" for posterity.

This chapter: Rated T for cursing and mild sexual innuendos.

Disclaimer I: I do not own the Total Drama series or any other song, book, television show, holiday, religious group, cult, product, or copyrighted item in this story. This disclaimer holds for every chapter in this story, The Last Christmas Hero, including ones not posted yet, which so far is all of them.

Disclaimer II: The plans for this story were drawn up shortly after the airing of the TDWT episode Anything Yukon Do, I Can Do Better (which, in fact, sparked the idea of an N/B pairing . . . yeah, I'm unimaginative). What happens after that episode will probably not be in alignment with what happened in the series here (in fact, almost certainly not), so yeah, sorry-I guess this is an alternate universe or something. But if the final 2 are Noah and Lindsay, I predicted it first! :)

Chapter Two (Noah)

Human Interests

December 21, 2009

10 PM

I can still remember the first time I saw her. The memory lingers in the back of my brain, no matter how much I try to banish it (and believe me, I do. A lot). It was on the first day of the first season, the day we all arrived. I didn't know anything about any of the other contestants except Katie and Sadie, who lived one town over from mine and who, upon their acceptance to Total Drama Island, appeared in a "Human Interest" article in the area paper. (It was bad. I think Sadie was even quoted as saying "[The best thing about this is] all the sex I'm getting!" Sometimes I don't even think Sadie even knows what sex is.) As far as I could guess, though, they were all probably total stereotypes—reality TV producers generally assume that their viewers are complete idiots who would fail to recognize anything other than the most distinct archetypes, with only a vague sense of the human condition. Then again, taking into account that—like—ninety-six percent of the kids at my school watched War Zone Survivor: Gaza Strip and Complete Casino Makeover with Arnold Schwarzenegger religiously, they may not be too far off the mark.

Back to that day, though:

I remember stepping on to the dock, going to stand next to the other contestants after the mandatory thirty-second sound bite. Beth came over to me then: Hey, she said. Isn't it—like—so exciting to be here? Her braces gave her a slight lisp, and I remember thinking, Wow, can you get any more stereotypical, Teletoon? As it turns out, this question was answered immediately after with the arrival of LeShawna, but I wasn't paying attention then because at that exact moment I saw her long blond hair waving in the wind.

She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Trite, I know—and trust me, I do know—but completely effing true. I mean, she was hot.

What's her name? I asked Beth.

Bridgette.

She was talking to Geoff, I remember that much. He was saying something stupid like Hi, I'm Geoff and I'm stupid, and she was smiling like she . . . liked him. A wave of jealousy rose up in me, unbidden. It was that sudden—I knew then that I was in love with her.

Beth smiled. "Hah, you like her, don't you?"

I don't remember what ultra-sarcastic quip I made to Beth then, but let me guarantee that it was bad. Like, really, really mean.

I think she cried.

It was very, very satisfying.

"Come on," Cody is saying. "What have you got to lose, man?"

I can feel my eyes rolling of their own accord—I don't even have to think about it anymore. Cynicism has entered my bloodstream by now, infiltrated my DNA. If I ever have kids their first words will probably be My heart bleeds for you. "Well, for starters, my dignity, hopes and dreams, and any semblance of self-esteem I may still harbor after that fiasco back in the third episode."

He ponders this for a second before responding: "Well . . . it can't be any worse than that time you made out with my ear in Season One."

Again, my eyes make their usual loop around in their sockets, the universal signal of You cannot possibly be serious clearly showing my displeasure at this empty pleasantry. "Trust me. It was."

"No, it wasn't!"

"Tell that to our fangirls."

"You know, maybe I would if they weren't always chasing after you. Remember the Mature 18s?"

I shudder. "Unfortunately, yes." Sometime during the first season Cody, Katie and I got bored, so we found a computer and Googled ourselves, figuring maybe someone had posted another "Human Interest" article about us, at the very least. There were 125,000 results for my name alone, and I'm pretty sure at least 90,000 of those were definitely pertaining to me. Anyways, through a series of interconnected links we somehow got onto the deviantART page of this nineteen-year-old college student from "Cambridge, Massachusetts, The United States" who had a plethora of Mature 18+ deviations with my name and the girl's (plus a couple of other names that I guess were Original Characters, and even one with Cody and me) in the titles. We were naïve enough to click on one—"It can't be that bad," I remember Katie saying—and . . . well, let's just say MIT admissions probably wish they'd seen it before sending out acceptance letters. "But that's irrelevant. This is Bridgette, someone I actually know." And like.

"All the more reason to ask her out! I mean, you wouldn't ask out any of those skeevy deviantART girls because you don't like them and they'd probably do creepy things to you in your sleep. But Bridgette—well, she's . . . fine, to say the least."

Talk about missing the point.

"Horndog."

"Oh, you know you can't resist him," says a chillingly familiar female voice. I turn around, and sure enough. "Izzy," I say flatly, because I can't think of anything else to say.

"Hey, Noah." There's a few seconds of silence. Cody clears his throat, and Izzy's mouth pulls down in a line. "What, no sarcasm?"

"His brain is otherwise occupied," Cody tells her. "With the fair Bridgette, no less."

"Ooh, Noah. And I thought all this time you were gay!"

"Uh, yeah, that's . . . great." Out of the corner of my eye I see Geoff leading Chris into one of the back hallways. Heather is saying something to both of them, looking rather enthusiastic. I've never seen Heather look that pleased about anything. "Look, I—I have to go."

"Noah!" says Izzy, sounding displeased. "I was just kidding. Well, actually, no, I wasn't, but come on."

"No, I mean, I have to go to the bathroom."

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, and I have cramps."

"Wow, actual sarcasm. I must be rubbing off on you."

"You know it!"

10:16. After listening to Izzy and Cody trying to convince me to ask Bridgette out for maybe fifteen more minutes, I finally manage to escape. I sneak through the back hallways, trying not to be heard. I keep walking for maybe twenty more minutes before I hear voices.

Chris: "Wow. This is . . . I'm speechless."

Heather (bitchily): "Sure you are. Now, we need an answer, now. Do you want to show this with the finale?"

Geoff: "It would make for epic television!"

Chris: "You know it! Wait—let me see that again?"

There's the unmistakable sound of a tape rewinding and the click of a play button. Then the sounds of someone crying, and an all-too-familiar voice that makes me shiver when I realize what it's saying.

Bridgette.

Chapter 3 to come soon, hopefully sooner than this one. Feel free to review.