The end of week four approaches, and with it, the extreme sports challenge. Thanks for reviewing, Gucci Mane LaFlare, lordgemini and OmniIBIBUltraInstinctGodzilla. And really sorry I took so long to update – I had a long project to work on and I also had Covid in the middle of it and then I had a vacation (and only finished my work there).

We didn't have a break after three days of boot camp. Probably it was something to do with our forbidden junk food-fest.

We were woken up by the sound of a low-flying plane. That is, Chris wanted to freak us out. He didn't even have a license.

It turned out there were three extreme sports challenges, and one person from each team would participate in each challenge. So…only three people per team would participate. Considering there were six Gophers and five of us Bass left, maybe that was a good thing for us. I mean, at least this time, there weren't three challenges claimed to be one.

The reason Chris had woken us with the plane was because the first challenge was skydiving. Thank heavens, they'd chosen Trent and DJ for this one.

"Sure," Trent shrugged. "Why not? You know what they say on Blackcorn Mountain: 'Best glimpse of heaven's on the way into hell'. Let's do this."

DJ looked more nervous. "Uh…sure. Why not?" I sent him a sympathetic glance.

The second challenge was moose rodeo riding. The contestant had to stay on for eight seconds or get pushed into a pile of stinky Lost and Found socks. Really, they stank.

"Were they really like that when you found them?" I asked. "Who wore them?"

Chris shrugged. "Well, we don't know who wore them, but, since you ask…we kinda washed them in droppings detergent. The interns found a range in the forest."
Disgusting and unhygienic. I was impressed in a horrified kind of way.

"That stink pile ain't nothing but laundry day back home!" Leshawna stated bravely.

Chris grinned at her. "It's your lucky day, Leshawna! You'll be riding for Gophers, and…Peyton, you'll ride for Bass."

I nodded nervously. I mean, I'd been horse riding, but I'd never tried to ride on something that was meant to buck me off. And worse, I had to do it against Leshawna. First the paintball challenge, now this? How many times was I going to be pitted against her?

The last challenge was a waterskiing motocross challenge, except it was in mud. Lindsay and Harold would be driven by someone on the opposite team and collect as many flags as they could get along the way (five in all).

And even more important, there was a reward for the winning team – a mobile shower, sparkling and luxurious. We had showers at the camp, but they were unpredictable in temperature and flow. I hadn't had a wash that wasn't just a wet flannel and soap like traditional Japan in weeks (basically, what they used to do in Japan was wash themselves on the bathmat with some water and soap, and then take a bath once they were clean for recreation and relaxation). I think everyone wanted that shower (except Owen, who expressed his lack of interest out loud).

We had breakfast before it, and Owen somehow almost ate a letter. Bridgette picked it up. I was with her at the time, and so was Gwen. Bridgette opened it.

"Check it out," Gwen remarked, "It's a corny haiku poem."

I leaned over to read it. It had a bunch of cliches in it, and worse, it had a few implications that were…well, cheap. I guessed immediately that it was one of Harold's letters to Leshawna, but I couldn't tell them that. "It's not even that good," I said, surprised and a little disappointed in my friend. "Really corny."

Bridgette giggled. "Some dude's crushing big-time." She held it towards Gwen. "It's probably for you."

I frowned. "You mean from Trent? It doesn't sound like him to me. He wrote that really cute song before, right? Why wouldn't he write another song if it was for Gwen? This is not the same guy who wrote that summer love song at the talent show." I knew it had to be from Harold, but there was no way I was going to tell anyone, not when he'd told me that in secrecy.

Gwen read the poem through. "Well, that doesn't sound like him, actually. But if it wasn't Trent, who wrote it?"

Bridgette looked at me suspiciously. "Peyton, do you know who wrote it? You sounded so sure that it wasn't Trent."

I knew I was blushing. "I, um, don't…" I gave up. "I don't want to give them away. Or their crush. That's not fair."

Bridgette nodded, looking disappointed. "I guess I understand that."

"But it doesn't mean we can't try to figure it out…" Gwen said slyly. She smiled at me. "Don't worry, we're not going to embarrass whoever it is, but it would be interesting to find out."

I smiled back and said nothing.

The skydiving actually did give everyone a job to do. There was absolutely no need for Heather to make some joke about Trent dying in an attempt to impress "weird goth girl", her favourite name for Gwen. Even though Chris had chosen who did it, nothing to do with impressing anyone's crush.

Anyway, both teams had a sofa bed that they hoped their teammate would land on. And we actually won – Trent missed the sofa bed completely because the Gophers couldn't move it (Owen fell asleep on it) and had to go to the infirmary, while we managed to move ours so DJ landed safely. Of course, he almost got folded into the sofa, but I managed to give my friend a hug.

"I think I was more scared than you," I said softly. "Thanks for winning…and surviving."

DJ smiled. "Thanks, Pey. It was pretty scary up there. Oh, and good luck."

I needed it. Well, actually, I didn't even make it eight seconds – just six. However, instead of landing in the socks, I actually ended up knocking Chris to the ground as I fell.

I started giggling anxiously as I stood up. "Omigosh, I am so sorry, Chris!" I managed to say, unable to look him in the eye. "I honestly didn't mean to do that!" I knew my cheeks were red as usual. I knew he'd be mad at me, but hopefully he'd get over it once he'd had a chance to redo his hair.

Leshawna did far better, exceeding eight seconds by far. I'd guessed she would. That attitude extended to everything – the attitude that made her never back down, never say die, and always hang on to the end. Watching her ride that moose was one of the best Kodak moments I'd seen on the island so far.

The mudskiing seadoo was the most exciting challenge by far. Harold went to the outhouse to change, while Lindsay arrived, all dressed up in a green bikini and looking as pretty as always.

"We are so dead," Heather muttered. "Unless…I get to drive the wave jumper!"
Chris allowed it, and similarly, Duncan got to drive when it was Lindsay's turn.

I'm not sure what happened with us. Harold ended up half dragged through the mud, but got all of his flags, and Heather had to cross the finish line or be disqualified. She did cross, but Harold apparently got distracted somehow and hit a rock.

"I don't know what Heather did to make Harold lose his concentration," Chris said, 'But it's a total wipeout for the Bass team!"

I was standing close enough to the mud pit to hear the words out of Harold's mouth. 'Boobies…"

Well, I didn't see any evidence of Heather's torn halter top, but she did disappear for the rest of the afternoon, so I guess she had lost it. But apparently she did have a replacement, because she spent the rest of the season in another identical top.

Lindsay did better than Harold. She stayed on her feet and still got every flag by crouching. Even when Duncan hit something and the vehicle stopped, the skis still passed by, Lindsay crossing the finish line. "Sorry about that, Doug," she called, "I just really wanted that shower!"

Boy, was I glad I hadn't landed in the socks. I would have really needed the shower, then.

I approached the girls after Gwen had finished showering and she and Bridgette were still puzzling over the haiku. "Did you figure it out?" I asked.

Bridgette shook her head. "We know it wasn't Trent, like you said. And we know Duncan was crushing on Courtney, so it can't be him. We tried talking to Owen and DJ, but they seemed clueless. But we don't think it could have been Harold."

"Unless it was one of the girls." Gwen suggested. "I mean, not you or me, but…"

I said nothing, but kept my head down, trying to hide my blush.

"Peyton?" Bridgette said it in a gentle voice.

I shook my head. "I know who it was," I said in a tiny voice, "But it wasn't me."

"So who could it be?" Bridgette wondered.

"Who could what be?" Leshawna asked, passing by in a shocking pink robe. The girls showed her the haiku.

"Another note from your secret admirer, Leshawna?" Chris asked her.

Bridgette and Gwen were surprised Leshawna was the girl, but as she pointed out, "You three know someone else here with a booty 'as luscious as an apple'?"

As she left, Gwen asked again "But who wrote it?" She looked at me. "Can't you just tell us?"

I gave a sigh. "I can't. Please stop asking me to. Please?"

Gwen sighed, too, but she dropped it.

I knew I might be on the chopping block that night, but Bridgette tried to calm me down. "I'm not voting for you," she promised. "I'm sure the guys won't, either. I'm pretty sure they'll vote for Harold."

I groaned at that. "You know, the only person on the whole team left that I'm not friends with is Duncan. I know he won't go home, but…I feel bad voting for a friend."

"You had to at some point." Bridgette pointed out reasonably. "Look at it this way – Duncan's not going home because there won't be enough votes. Even if you don't vote for Harold, I'm pretty sure there'll be three votes for him."

There was. Duncan was in the bottom two, but even though I'd voted for Duncan, two votes weren't enough. Harold didn't smile, but he was quite friendly about it. "Well, it's been fun, guys," he said, standing up to leave. He even gave me a quick hug.

Everyone (well, almost everyone) saw him off, even the Gophers. He took advantage. Before he stepped onto the boat, he turned. "Farewell, Total Drama Island," he said in a dramatic voice. "I loved, I lost, and I saw boobies. What more could a man ask for?"

"You loved?" Gwen said incredulously.

"You're a man?" Leshawna added.

"You saw boobies?" Bridgette repeated.

Harold put his belongings into the boat, and then, that's when he said it.

"…Leshawna, I meant every word of that poem."

"Poem? That was you?"

"No way." Bridgette whispered to Gwen and me.

It was my worst nightmare, seeing Leshawna and Harold run to each other. And kiss. It was cut short when Chef dragged Harold back to the boat, but still.

It looked like the battle was over. I'd lost.

I turned away instantly, walking back to the cabins.

What a sour note to end on. But as you know, Leshawna did not date Harold from this point. The kiss was spur-of-the-moment. But Peyton doesn't know that.