Disclaimer - The rights of Total Drama Island and its characters belong to Teletoon, Cartoon Network, and all those associated with the show. No profit is being made by this fanfiction. This is wet fanfiction, please do not sit on the wet fanfiction, or you'll get fanfiction all over yourself.
To Everybody - You should all know that this chapter is, for the most part, very serious. Sorry for all those that come here for the humor. I promise, the next challenge will have much more humor, craziness, and insanity.
Just this time, things are going to be quite dramatic. I'll make some booger jokes next chapter to make up for it.
--
And now, without further stalling, on with the show!!
Chapter 42 (Day 15, Part 2) - The Answer to the Ultimate Question
Cynthia smiled as she looked at the completed dinner. "Zeke honey," she called out, "dinner is ready!"
John adjusted his toque, sitting at the end of the table. "Where is he, anyway?" the man said, drumming his fingers on the table. "I haven't seen him all day, eh."
"I think he's probably in his room," she said, "and take off your toque at the dinner table, John, you'll encourage him!"
"Nothing wrong with wearing a hat at the table, I doo'nt knoo' why women find that so rude."
"Doo'nt you start on that," she replied, then sighed. "I'm not really in the mood."
"What's wrong, eh?"
"Well, it's Ezekiel. He's been acting more and more distant. I doo'nt knoo' if public school was the best way to go for him, eh."
Ezekiel's father shrugged. "Oh, he's just adjusting, eh. Maybe he's not getting along with most of the kids yet."
"Maybe, but... Zeke," his mother called out again. "Where is he, eh? He's never late for dinner."
John scratched his head underneath his toque. "Should I go get him, eh?"
"Please do," Cynthia replied, then took a deep breath. "I'm actually woo'ried now, eh."
"I'm sure it's just your imagination."
He left the table and looked in Ezekiel's room; he wasn't there. His father looked around the house, wondering where his son could be.
"Zeke? Zeke boy," he called out. "C'mon, you have to eat, bud'day. Where are you?"
He heard something from the master bedroom, where he and Mary slept; it was right next to the dining room. Entering, rather confused, he looked around his own room until he heard a soft sob come from the closet.
"Zeke?" his father said, opening his closet.
Ezekiel, six years old, was huddled up in there. His little toque was almost covering his eyes, which were red and soggy from a good deal of crying. The little boy was shaking hard, staring at the ground.
"I want to die," little Ezekiel sobbed, hiccuping every word. He looked up at his father and said, "Doo'nt send me back to school, please... I'd rather... I want to die!"
Ezekiel woke up with a startled cry. His whole body ached, and his head was pounding like if a sledgehammer was trying to bust open his skull.
"Oh man, what was that, eh?" he thought, as he slowly reached up to grab his head with one hand. "I doo'nt remember anything like that... was it a nightmare or..."
He stopped when his hand came back wet. Blood? More than likely, it was thicker than water. If only it was brighter...
The prairie boy blinked, then looked around. He was trapped down a hole, possible twenty, thirty meters deep. It wasn't that wide, so he was very bunched up with the sticks, leaves, dirt, and the other human being with him.
He could hear her breathing, moaning in her unconscious state. Was she okay? The prairie boy picked himself up, very sore but no shooting, sharp pains. He managed to crawl over to the girl.
"Heather?" he whispered, nudging her shoulder. "Heather. Heather, are you alright, eh? Heather!"
She stirred, her eyes blinking. The moment she was fully conscious, she shrieked. Ezekiel clapped his hands over his ears, cried out in pain, and scurried back.
"Shut up, eh," he screamed, his head almost exploding in pain. "Heather, stop it!"
"What happened?" she cried out. "Where are we?"
"Bottom of a hole," Ezekiel replied, moaning in pain. "Please, notch doo'n the volume, eh."
Heather was frantic, and her thrashing legs kept kicking Ezekiel's hips and legs; they were that close to each other by force. "How did this happen? Wait..."
She snarled, and though Ezekiel couldn't see her face, he knew what she looked like. "This is all your fault! You stupid, son of a-"
"Heather, please stop shouting," he exclaimed, starting to whimper in pain. "My head... oh ow..."
"I outta kill you," she snarled. "First you cause me to fall in this hole, then you're leering over me and pawing me-"
"I was checking to see if you were alright, eh."
"Yeah, right," she scoffed. "When we get out of here, you are so dead."
Ezekiel rubbed his head, getting more blood on his fingers. "How did we get doo'n here a'geen, eh?" he thought. "Oh... oh right."
Heather was roaming inside the forest, still able to see the campgrounds from where she was. She picked up a pine cone, then angrily tossed it over her shoulder.
"This is ridiculous," she complained to herself. "Everything I bring him, he'll reject. What a jerk."
The bushes rustled next to her, and she froze. Looking around slowly, she saw a raccoon leap out of the bushes. "Chir chip?" it squeaked.
Heather let out a shriek, and ran away from the small, spry creature. Loving to torment screaming girls, especially this loud girl, the raccoon gave chase.
About fifteen minutes of screaming and chasing, Heather ran directly into Ezekiel. The two collapsed on the grassy ground, tangled up.
"Ow," Heather moaned, then she looked up and saw who she had run into, and added, "Ewwwww!"
"Hey, you ran into me, eh," he replied, rubbing his stomach. "Got me right in the gut, too."
"Suck it up," Heather told him. "Great, now I'm lost in the forest. With you!"
"You're not lost, eh. I knoo' exactly where we are."
He stood up, and extended his hand to her. With great resentment, she accepted it. When he pulled her up, there was an approving chatter from nearby. The raccoon was nodding, grinning, and giving the prairie boy a thumbs-up.
"I'll help you get 'oot of here, but that's all, eh," he said. "I cannot help you with the challenge though."
"I wasn't going to ask you for your help."
"I heard you complaining, sounds like you needed it."
"Oh, you stupid, ignorant, perverted..."
Heather's insult stream stopped when she heard low growling behind her. She turned around and saw a great, gray wolf standing there, the fur on its back standing up.
"Crap," she whimpered, backing up.
"Doo'nt move," Ezekiel told her. "Stand your ground, he won't go after us if we..."
A couple more wolves approached, all eyeing the two hungrily. Before they could form a circle around them, the prairie boy yelled, "Run," picked up a rock and chucked it at the nearest wolf.
Heather was so paralyzed with fear that she couldn't take a step, so Ezekiel grabbed her arm and yanked her away. The wolves chased after them, and they were fast.
"Back to camp," Ezekiel shouted. "We need to get back to camp, and-"
He was cut off when the ground gave away under his feet. He heard screaming, maybe him, maybe Heather, and he hit his head against the side of the hole, hard. His world spun, then he landed, painfully. A crashing of sticks and dirt around him were all he could remember before fading out.
"Would you rather have been wolf food?" the prairie boy asked her.
"You led us right into a pit," Heather shot back. "You said you knew the way back to camp."
"Well, the way to escape the wolves wasn't the way I got there, eh," Ezekiel said.
"Whatever. I'm not talking to you anymore, not until we're rescued."
She crossed her arms and looked away. Ezekiel couldn't see this, but the sounds of her movements were clear enough.
"Fine, eh," he said, then sighed. "Of all the people to be trapped doo'n a hole with, it just had to be you, didn't it?"
"Where are they? They could be lost or hurt or... or..."
Bridgette was panicking now. Only she, Harold, Izzy, and Chris Maclean were awake. The surfer girl was tired, but her fear was keeping her awake.
"Izzy wonders where they went," said Izzy (of course). "Do we have tracking devices on them?"
"You kidding?" Chris said. "Those things are expensive."
"How about the cameras?" Harold asked. "Can't you check them to see if you can find them?"
"Sure sure, make me do all the work," the host said, sulking off. "Gosh, you people are so demanding when your friends are missing."
Bridgette sat on the steps of the cafeteria, wringing her hands. She sunk her head in-between her knees, sobbing silently. Harold approached her from behind, and massaged her shoulders.
"Bridge, stay calm, they'll be okay," he said. "I mean, Fuzzy Wuzzums the bear was in Izzy's care most of the day, so they couldn't have been attacked."
The surfer girl took a deep breath, then looked up. "I... I cannot help be think this is all my fault. I kept telling Ezekiel to leave Heather alone, and he probably went to go talk to her or something-"
"Don't blame yourself," Izzy said. "How can you be blamed for their disappearance when you weren't directly responsible?"
"Yeah, we can blame Heather," Harold said. "This has got to be her fault somehow."
Chris came back, looking baffled. Bridgette's look went from hopeful to crestfallen. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"It's the weirdest thing," Chris said. "I couldn't find them on any of the footage on the cameras, safe for a small glimpse of Ezekiel; I think he was heading for the forest, but I cannot be sure. And a good deal of the cameras in the forest... stopped filming early afternoon yesterday."
"What?" Harold exclaimed. "How's that possible?"
(Confession Cam - It's a mystery! Jinxies!)
Raccoon - \The gray creature is standing in the Confession Cam, holding a great deal of disconnected cameras over his head and looking very happy. He speaks in Raccoonian.\
"ha ha ha, i was in yur forest, stealin yur kamerahs! now tuque boy an loud grl can make out n peece!"
Ezekiel was starting to get seriously irritated, as Heather filing her nails was making his headache grind in pain. "Can you please stop?" he asked.
She ignored him. He asked several more times, but she wouldn't acknowledge him at all. Finally, he couldn't take it. The toque-wearing teenager leaned forward, yanked the nail file out of her hand, and broke it in half.
"How dare you," Heather shouted, making Ezekiel's headache throb like crazy; he could see spots in front of him for a few seconds.
"Heather, could you be... bearable for a few minutes?" he asked.
She shook with rage. "You... you don't get to speak to me like this! You can't treat me like this!"
"Heather, please," Ezekiel pleaded, sounding desperate. "I am seeing spots here, I cannot take loud noises."
"Aww, why's that?"
"I... I think I have a concussion, eh."
"Oh really?" she scoffed. "Did you bump your widdle head?"
"There's blood, and I'm dizzy, and every time you raise your voice, I feel like it's going to explode like one of those zombies getting headshot in the B-movies-"
"I get," Heather interrupted, "the point. Okay, so you have a bump on the head. What do you want me to do about it?"
"Well, first off, stop yelling, eh."
The queen bee scoffed again. "Fine, whatever."
"But actually... keep talking, eh."
"What? First you ask me to stop talking, then you want me to keep talking-"
"No, I asked you to stop yelling, eh. Talking would be great, because I shouldn't drift off again."
"And why's that?"
"Doo'nt you knoo' anything a'boot concussions, eh?"
"Noo, I doo'nt, eh."
Ezekiel rolled his eyes, and all he could feel was pain and dizziness as a result. He gripped his head and winced in pain, then things began to swim and darken.
"We've... we've got to go searching for them," Bridgette declared.
The other campers had woken up, and now frantically was trying to rally the others.
"Bridgette, this island is huge," Chris said, rubbing his temples. "It'd take days with a good search party, more time with the little amount of people we have. I'm gonna go to bed. Chef, take over."
"You can't go now," Bridgette shouted. "Ezekiel and Heather are still out there, you have to help them!"
"Yeah well, I haven't slept, I stayed up all night. Can't think without a clear head, don't you know? Later, dudes!"
Gwen stomped her foot, and shouted, "You evil, heartless has-been, get back here!"
"Oh let him go, he won't help us," Harold said, forcing back a yawn. "What are we going to do?"
The six campers looked over at Chef Hatchet, who looked startled. "I...," the large and suddenly very vulnerable looking cook stammered, "I don't know exactly what we can do."
"Oh come on, you help Chris with everything around here," Beth shouted. "You've got to know something!"
Chef nervously tapped his fingers together. "Errr, well, a little with the computers, what they can do-"
"Leave that to me," Cody shouted, thumping his chest. He hacked and coughed from his own blow, and straightened himself out. "I can work the computer and use any systems Chris has on that thing!"
"You can do that?" Beth asked.
"If he cannot, I can," Harold said, then yawned. "I... I can stay awake for this."
"No, Harold, you get some sleep," Izzy instructed him, shaking a finger. Her green eyes, also heavy from exhaustion, looked over at Bridgette. "Bridge, you too."
"What? No," the surfer began to protest. "I... I... need to stay up for this."
"You're falling over as you speak, girl," Izzy said, also slouching over. "Izzy knows best."
"We'll wake you if anything happens, Bridgette," Gwen said, hugging her friend. "Just get some sleep, you were up all night."
Bridgette nodded, letting Izzy guide her to the Killer Bass cabin. "Izzy would love to see inside of the KB girls cabin. You got an aquarium in there, surfer girl?"
"No."
"A shark?"
"No."
"How about a live shark?"
Harold shambled over to the cabin too, holding his head and muttering, "Gosh," to himself. Cody was already heading towards the camera tent, led by Chef Hatchet.
"Don't break anything, kid," he grumbled to Cody.
"Machines are like my babies, I could never harm one."
"Zeke! Zeke! ZEKE!"
"Gaaaah! God damn it, didn't I tell you not to yell?"
Heather's hands were on his shoulders, shaking him. She was panting from apprehension, but that died away almost completely when he replied.
"Don't do that," she snapped at him as she let go. "You started moaning in pain, and I thought you were going to die for a minute there."
"Soo'ry to disappoint you, eh," he grumbled as he rubbed his throbbing head.
"Well, you're the one saying you wanted to die."
Ezekiel froze. "What?"
"You were mumbling, 'I want to die, I want to die'," Heather told him. "What's that about?"
"I actually doo'nt knoo'," he admitted. "I doo'nt even knoo' if it was real or not, eh."
Heather sat down opposite of him, trying to get comfortable; it wasn't likely, because the bottom of the hole was still full of dirt and sticks. "Sounds rather sad."
"Oh, you're loving this, aren't you?" Ezekiel shot back. "Here I am, bleeding and moaning in pain, whimpering how I want to die. You're just dying to tell the others a'boot it, aren't you, eh?"
"Right," Heather scoffed. "Your friends are going to be thrilled to hear you were in agony while I was fine during the whole disaster; I'm sure they'll see it that way."
Ezekiel could have sworn he detected something in her voice, something she didn't want to project but did. Was it sadness?
"They're going to be looking for both of us, you knoo' that?" he said. "They won't stop until they find us."
"They're looking for you, not me," she replied, bitter. "They'd let me rot in this hole if given the chance."
"No, they wouldn't do that. They may not like you, but they wouldn't leave you to die, eh." The queen bee scoffed again, leaning against her side of the hole. "What makes you so sure of that?"
"They're good people, eh. Bridgette and Beth are two of the nicest people I knoo', Harold and Cody wouldn't leave others behind, and even Gwen would help someone 'oot."
Heather rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right."
"What is it a'boot you that makes you not trust others, eh?" Ezekiel asked. "Can't you trust people?"
"People let you down."
Ezekiel blinked. To him, this was way too broad of a statement. "So, according to you, everyone on this planet is doomed to never be trustworthy, ever?"
"Don't patronize me."
"I'm not, I'm just trying to find 'oot why you hate others so much."
"You know why."
Ezekiel was silent for a few seconds. He heard Heather squirm uncomfortably on the other side. The prairie boy tried desperately to think about what she was getting at.
"Is it a'boot that picture?"
"Duh."
"Look, Heather, I'm no expert on psychology," he said. "I can barely grasp why I do some of the things I do, eh. But why would you being not so attractive earlier in your years lead you to hate everyone?"
"You wouldn't understand, home school. I don't want to talk about this any more." Ezekiel drummed his fingers against his knuckles, trying to think over the throbbing headache. "Was it because other kids were mean to you?"
"Shut up!"
He rubbed his temple as a burst of pain came with the shout. Sighing, he looked over to where she was. "Heather, you cannot hide from this forever."
"Just shut up," she said, but much softer this time. "I don't want to talk about those times. Can't you understand that?"
"Would it help if I told you something a'boot my past first, eh?"
Heather, who was taking deep breaths, was shaking her head. He couldn't see it, and she knew that, and when she finally forced out the words, she found herself saying, "Yes."
"What am I doing?" she thought, screaming at herself. "I'm trusting this home schooled redneck? Damn it, Heather, don't be foolish! Don't be-"
"I was a'boot six at the time," the toque-wearing teenager began. "I actually was being sent to public school for first grade."
"I thought you were always home schooled?"
"No, not at first, eh. Anyway, it was just for a'boot a week, eh. The other kids weren't so nice to me, and there was this one girl I liked-"
"And let me guess, she broke your little six year-old heart."
Ezekiel scowled. "Heather, quit being so rude."
"Aww, why? Hurt your feelings?"
"That's it, forget it," he snapped, turning away from her. "I doo'nt knoo' why I tried. You're such a bitch."
Heather let out a 'whatever' sniff and dismissed him with a wave. Though she was calm on the outside, on the inside, both her mind and her heart were screaming at her.
Cody sighed as he fiddled with the computer that Chris Maclean used for the technological gizmos on the island.
"Okay, I'm sick of typing these mile-long codes," the tech-geek shouted, slamming his fist on the table. "Can someone get my computer? I've got an adapter in my bags."
"I'll get it, Cody," Beth declared, running out of the camera tent. "What's that for?" Gwen asked.
"It's so I can do this stuff on my computer," Cody explained. "I can get this stuff done a lot faster with my own mods and extensions."
Gwen blinked, then shrugged. "Um, sure. Are you making any progress?"
"Not really. I wish I had a life signs detector."
"Cody, this isn't Star Trek."
"I know, but I really hoped he had some kind of radar or," Cody stopped, then turned around to smirk at Gwen. "Wait a minute, how'd you know life signs detectors come from Star Trek?"
"My brother watches it, and I had to watch it when he was younger," Gwen admitted. "Not bad, but I'm not much of a science-fiction fan."
"Awww. I guess that's why we'd never would have been a good couple."
Gwen couldn't help but smile. Remembering the urgent situation, she shook her head and said, "Just try to find something useful, Cody. Chris has to have something useful among all these gadgets."
Ezekiel moaned as his headache began to throb harder, now that he wasn't concentrating on talking to Heather. Soon the pain became too much, and he was letting out pained groans with every breath.
Heather tried to ignore it, but it wasn't easy. Not only was he just two feet from her, but his pained groans were making her feel... guilty. It wasn't something she hadn't felt in a long time, but the sound of him suffering was making her feel that way now.
It was getting very cold down in the hole, and Heather started to shiver. Her skimpy top was nowhere near enough to keep her warm. Her weakness to cold was making her shiver and her teeth chatter.
"Is it really that bad, eh?" Ezekiel suddenly asked her.
"I really hate being cold," she admitted.
She heard him rustle, then something thick landed on her legs. "Here, eh," he said, "maybe giving you my jacket will stop your whining. For once!"
Heather picked up the jacket, then slowly put it on. It was indeed warm, and she felt better. On the outside, that is. She felt like something was eating her alive from the inside.
"Oh no," she thought, almost panicking. "Is this... guilt? I never thought... God, this is a terrible feeling."
It took her a couple minutes, but she finally managed to say it. "Zeke?"
"What?"
"I... I am...," she stammered. This was a word she had never used in sincerity, and it was most unsettling how much more difficult it was to say it that way. "I'm sorry."
Ezekiel was quiet for a few seconds, then said, "You mean that?"
"I guess," she mumbled, barely audible. "Do you want your jacket back?"
"Nah, you keep it for now, eh. But I'm keeping the toque, alright?"
"Fair enough, I'm not much a hat person."
Ezekiel let out a chuckle, then moaned in pain. "This headache is getting to be so bad."
"You want to try talking again?"
The prairie boy shrugged. "Fine, as long as you play nice."
"So, what happened with that girl in first grade?"
"You mean Rachel?" She nodded. "Well, exactly what you said, actually. She was pretending to be nice, or maybe she was and was pressured into being mean, and then she just got really mean one day, eh.
"I vaguely recall her doing something like spitting in my face, but it was so long ago."
"And that's why you went to being home schooled?"
"Ayup yup." Heather was quiet for a couple seconds, then let out a long sigh. "Ezekiel, if I tell you something, you promise not to tell anyone?"
"Of course, eh. Not woo'ried a'boot cameras?"
"Like any cameras could pick us up down in this hole," the queen bee scoffed. "Well, Zeke, you got that photo of me, so you know I wasn't always this good looking."
"Hmm-mmm."
"It was during my junior high years, and just like your first grade years, kids were the meanest little bastards you've ever seen. So when I graduated from middle school, I begged my parents to send me to a different high school than the other kids were going to go.
"And then, during that summer vacation, I, as I like to say, transformed."
The queen bee crossed her legs, remembering those glorious days. "I lost weight, I got my braces out, and my face cleared up. At the new high school, I was popular overnight. I was the person that used to make fun of me in the hallways among every pass."
"And you became just as cruel and mean as they did, eh?"
"No," she protested. "... Yes."
"Seems like popularity is a nasty business, eh."
She sighed, then let out a bitter chuckle. "You're home schooled. You don't know how popularity truly works, and how other teens act among each other."
"This is true, eh," he agreed. "But why did you have to become mean? Why couldn't you use your powers for good and not evil?"
Heather started laughing. "You're kidding, right? That sounds like something from a comic book."
"Yep, I'm a hoser, eh," he replied, smiling. "So, why didn't you?"
"That's not how popularity rolls, Zeke. You cannot be a sweet sucker like Beth, a lovable surfer like Bridgette, or... like Gwen. You have to have looks, you have to be domineering, and you have to fill the boots of someone who's loved and hated at the same time."
Ezekiel blinked. "And... what's the good side of it, eh?"
"You're popular, Zeke! Aren't you paying attention? You're the most powerful student in school! You can date anyone you want, get any favors you need, and respect. It's something a fat, ugly, brace-faced girl like my tween years could never be."
"What a'boot friends, eh?"
"Friends," she repeated, almost spitting out the word. "What good are friends?"
"How's it coming, Cody?"
Bridgette approached the tech-geek, yawning as she approached. "Any luck finding them?"
"No," Cody replied. "What are you doing up? Shouldn't you be sleeping?"
"It's been six hours, I'm good," the surfer replied, propping her elbow up on the back of his chair. "Any luck?"
"I've been rotating cameras all around the island, nothing," he admitted, fiddling with the mouse. "There's motion sensors on some that I got activated. Nothing but raccoons, squirrels, birds, and Fuzzy Wuzzums."
Gwen, lying down in a cot nearby, propped herself up. "The bear? What's he doing?"
"Eating marshmallows, and looking sad."
"Where are the others?" the surfer asked, watching over the tech-geek's shoulder.
"Izzy's cycling around the beach on one of her handmade death rides," Gwen said. "Beth's searching all the places we know of on the island, and Harold's trying to pick up their tracks."
Chris Maclean entered the camera tent, yawning. "Hey guys. I came here to check up on you guys to make sure Cody isn't breaking the equipment."
"No, he's fine," Chef Hatchet said. "He's actually expanded the memory, and fixed the screen saver bug we had."
"Fine, fine," Chris muttered. "Find Ezekiel and Heather yet?"
"No," Gwen replied, glaring at the host. "But thank you so much for your help."
"You're welcome. I don't understand why you're trying so hard to find Heather, since Bridgette might have to walk the Dock of Shame."
"What?" Bridgette asked, shocked. "Why?!"
"Didn't you inform the others of my," he cleared his throat, "condition in the washrooms? That was helping the others, which was against the rules."
"I don't remember her doing that," Gwen lied, smiling innocently. "I merely remember making you panic, and following up on my turn-ins."
"I followed Gwen," Cody said, grinning as innocently as the goth girl. "You know me, helpless, raging crushing on her, because I am so helpless and geeky and stuff."
"Well, pull up the camera data on the area around that time, please," Chris requested. "I'd like to make sure."
"Oh, bad news about that, Chris," Cody said, still innocently grinning. "You know how some of the cameras stopped recording?"
"Yeah?"
"Same with the ones around the campus that afternoon. Nothing recorded at all."
Chris blinked, shrugged, then walked out. "Whatever. I'm gonna go back and finish my nap. Wake me when you find either of those two."
After he was gone, Cody quickly did some editing, tapping the 'delete' button on his computer several times. "Funny how these things happen, huh?"
Bridgette, beaming at the tech-geek, gave Cody a kiss on the cheek. "I owe you one, Cody."
"I think you paid him in full," Gwen remarked, smirking at how red Cody had turned.
Heather turned up her hands and shrugged. "I mean, what good are friends? What good can they do for you in the long run?"
"You kidding, eh?" Ezekiel asked. "The friends I made here are much more special than popularity can be, eh. After high school, what can popularity do for you?"
The ravenhair girl looked away, huffing indignantly. "Look, it's all I know for now," she grumbled. "How could your friends here be so special?"
"I finally have people my age to talk to. And when it comes time for us all to go to college, we might end up at the same one, eh."
Heather sighed, shaking her head. "Fine, okay then. You really sure you can trust them?"
"We've faced almost cer'teen death here, what's an exam in college going to do that's worse, eh?"
She looked away. Heather didn't want to hear this, it contradicted everything she had believed in beforehand. Friendship more important than popularity? It was absurd, but she couldn't deny that, at least deep down, she could make sense of what he was saying.
"Zeke..."
"Yeah, eh?"
"... Why do you care? Why do you even want to know about me? I'm just the popular girl from another province who's treated you like crap."
"I doo'nt-"
"I mean, think of it," she exclaimed, though careful to keep her voice down. "How could there ever be... anything between us? Friendship? Going out? I'm the popular girl, and you're the home schooled from the prairies. I'm... spiteful, I admit, and you're nice, if a little, well maybe really clueless."
Ezekiel started laughing. It hurt his head and his chest, but it also felt good. As Heather sat there, completely baffled, the prairie boy began to cough, then cleared his throat.
"Oh Heather. You're so woo'ried a'boot the stereotypes, yet it's being broken all around you, eh."
"What? What does that mean?"
"The handsome musician is going 'oot with the goth girl. The large 'n in charge sister's dating the lanky nerd. The juvenile delinquent is going steady with the politician-in-the-making.
"And, most recently, the cynical knoo'-it-all has started dating one of the two hyper-excitable BFFFs. Not to mention all the friendships and trust people have in each other here, eh."
He coughed harder, then continued. "You actually think... that social standings is keeping people here from liking each other, eh? ... When you come right doo'n to it... it's who we really are that matters..."
Ezekiel strained to stay awake, moaning and gripping his head. Heather was over to him as fast as she could scurry, gripping his shoulders.
"Stay awake, Zeke," she pleaded. "Keep talking, if that helps."
He weakly chuckled. "Doo'nt mind me blabbering, eh?"
"No cameras to see us down here, remember? I guess, for you and for now," she whispered, "I don't have to be the popular girl."
"Wait a minute," Cody said, tapping at his computer. "This thing has infrared. Of the entire island."
Chef Hatchet shrugged. "Just an option that came with the package deal. Nothing special."
"Except I could probably find them faster with this," Cody said, his hands going wild on the keyboard and mouse now. "How can you afford to have infrared of the whole island? Satellite?"
"Yeah."
"They have their own satellite here?" Gwen asked, crossing her arms. "And Chris has the nerve to say how they don't have the budget to fix the leaky pipes in the communal washrooms?"
"Satellite costs nothing compared to his beauty products."
"Man, Chris puts Lindsay and Heather to shame."
"You have no idea. The other day, he-"
"Oh my God!"
Cody was frantically clicking on a large outline of the island, now in infrared. "I think I have something," he exclaimed as he tapped a part of the map.
"What what what?" Bridgette asked, hanging on every word Cody said.
"I think I got two humanoid-shaped objects in the woods."
As the others crowded around Cody, Chef Hatchet's eyes went wide. "Oh crap."
"What?" Cody asked, startled by Chef's sudden swearing.
"That's exactly where I dug my new pit for inedible food."
"What food of his isn't inedible?" Gwen thought.
"Why'd you dig a pit for it?" Bridgette asked, throwing her hands up. "Isn't it easier to just throw it in the trash?"
"Not when it's growing tentacles and coming at you, blondie," the cook shouted. "You gotta bury it alive to kill it, about thirty meters."
Bridgette's light green eyes went wide. "That far down? They've fallen that far down?! Quick, get the others, get some rope, we've got to hurry!"
Ezekiel and Heather had been talking the entire time, trying to keep the prairie boy. Heather had a lot of things that she had kept stored in her, and once the dam known as Mean Popular Girl Image was broken, she let it all spill out.
The toque-wearing teenager hung on every word. He comforted Heather when she confessed that she felt like her parents never truly loved her. He asked about her school, about her schoolmates. He also wanted to know more about Damien.
"He's always been a major pain in my butt," she spat. "Pranking me, stealing my things. I hate him so much."
"I think he wants you to change, eh," Ezekiel said, and quoted what her little brother had written on the back of the photo. Heather shrugged and looked away.
"He probably just wants that on international TV," she replied.
"Except he sent it to me, and," the prairie boy took a deep breath and rubbed his temple, "I wouldn't do something like that."
Heather didn't reply to this. She remained silent until Ezekiel nudged her. "Something wrong, eh?"
"Zeke...," she sighed, then looked at him again, "... I don't think this is right of me to do."
"Boy, never thought I'd hear you say that, eh," he replied, laughing. He gripped his head as his own laughter made his headache throb.
"I'm serious," she snapped, a mixture of frustration and sorrow. "After we get out of here, I'm going to be back to my own self, my real self. I won't let the others see me like this."
"Why not, eh?" Ezekiel asked. "They could be your friends too-"
"Like hell. Gwen, my friend? Trent? Beth? Lindsay and Leshawna? Never, even I wanted to try to. None of them would give me another chance, and frankly, I don't think we'd even be that great of friends."
"There you go, woo'rying a'boot stereotypes again, eh," Ezekiel was still chuckling. "Heather, I doo'nt think it's all hopeless. You're being nice to me, eh."
"That's because," she started, then silenced herself.
"What? C'mon, tell me, eh." She took a deep breath. Though there was a part of her telling her to stop talking about it, she couldn't hold it back anymore. "I trust you, Zeke. And... I... I...
"I like you. A lot... and I have for some time."
Ezekiel blinked. "Um, wow. For how long, eh?"
"I don't know. Probably since you stood up to me during that snow day, probably when I kissed you the same day."
"Oh... I always thought you did that just to confuse me."
"Well, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't planned that too, but I couldn't... I didn't completely know why I had kissed you. And it's been hell to think about that while here.
"Who could I talk to? Not the stupid Confession Cam, that's broadcasted. There are cameras everywhere. I... I didn't have any way of figuring this out, and I couldn't talk to you about it."
Ezekiel smiled weakly. "And that, Heather, is what friends are for, eh." He coughed hard, then moaned. "I doo'nt feel good at all, eh."
"Zeke, stay with me, please."
"I'm trying, Heather, but..."
He fell silent, and the queen bee began to panic. "No, Zeke, don't pass out! Zeke!"
She grabbed his shoulders and shook him gently. He was moaning, his eyes were rolling around with no focus.
"Zeke, stay with me," Heather shouted. "Zeke! ZEKE!"
"Heather?"
It was a voice from above, faint but close. A round object with a ponytail looked over the side of the hole, down at them. "Heather, is that you?"
"Beth?" replied the queen bee. She felt relief for a second, then her panic set back in. "Get some help, fast! Ezekiel's not doing too well down here!"
Beth nodded, then stood up. Putting her fingers in her mouth, she let out a shrill whistle, so sharp that it made Ezekiel down in the pit whimper.
"I found 'em," the farm girl shouted. Pretty soon, the other campers, Chef Hatchet, and Chris Maclean were at the hole.
"Dude, Chef," Chris said, looking at the hole, "you dug this?"
"Well, I requested a power digger," the cook admitted. "Said it would be needed for a challenge."
"That's not a bad idea, now that I think about it," the host said, tapping his chin. "Maybe next time-"
"Shut up," Gwen ordered him, glaring that fierce, goth glare that made a good deal of people shiver. "We need someone to go down there and carry them out. Chef, you're strong enough, you go."
"Him?" Harold exclaimed, pointing at the cook. "He would crush them if he went down there."
"Izzy will go then!"
The redhead, must to everyone's surprise, was tying the roped around her waist. "Izzy knows how to rappel. I'll give a tug when I have Ezekiel."
"You will be getting Heather on a second trip," Chris instructed her, taking the rope's slack.
"Aww, c'mon," Gwen and Beth protested.
Izzy, with the others giving her support, rappelled down the hole. When she reached the bottom, her foot stepped on something soft.
"Ow, Izzy," Heather hissed. "That was my leg!"
"Sorry," the redhead quickly apologized. "Where is Zeke?"
Heather helped lift Ezekiel up and into Izzy's arms. "Be careful, he has a concussion, I think."
"Bad?"
"Frooger sharkalarka," Ezekiel groaned, lulling in Izzy's arms.
"Oh my, it's bad," Izzy said, sounding quite serious. "I'm holding him, and he's not worried a bit."
She gave the rope a tug, and the others pulled them up. Bridgette was at Ezekiel's side in a second as Cody and Harold put him on one of the stretchers they had brought.
"Zeke? Zeke, speak to me," she cried out to her friend, holding his shoulders.
"Wha sha wann me ta say?" Ezekiel mumbled, his eyes unfocused still.
"He'll be fine if we hurry him to the medical tent," Chris said.
"Doo'nt...," Ezekiel strained to say, "forget... Heather..."
"Izzy's down there now, Zeke, getting her out," Bridgette told him, holding his hand.
The prairie boy managed to smile. "She's... not really... that bad a person."
"How hard did you hit your head there, Zeke?" Gwen asked, quirking an eyebrow.
As Izzy, carrying Heather, was pulled up, Cody and Harold carried Ezekiel back to camp, Bridgette with them. The queen bee took in a breath of fresh air, then looked around.
"Where's Ezekiel?" she asked.
"They're taking him back to camp," Gwen said. A scowl was forming on her face. "The question is, why are you wearing Ezekiel's jacket?"
"That's none of your business, Gwen," Heather snapped, turning away from the goth girl and crossing her arms.
"Is that what you think?" the goth girl retorted, her voice raising. "Ezekiel was down there with a concussion, and I'm sure you knew that! And yet you got to wear his jacket?"
Heather refused to answer. Her shoulders hunched up and she shook from a combination of emotions.
"Better get you to the medical tent too, Heather," Chris said, putting his hand on her shoulder.
"I'm fine," she snapped.
"Well, we'd better make sure. You're from the rich family, one that can inform lawyers."
"Oh, that's nice," Beth shouted, as angry as Gwen now. "You care more for her well-being because of that? She's alright, unlike Ezekiel!"
"Not to mention he was trapped down there with her," Gwen added, exchanging looks with Beth. "I cannot imagine how painful that was for him."
"Izzy wonders what went on too," Izzy said, popping up between the two. "But did you see my incredible rappelling skills? I can rappel anyone!"
"Yes, Izzy, you sure can," Gwen commented.
Heather swatted at Chef, trying to get him away while grumbling for the nth time that she was alright. She did have some bruises and a couple scratches, but she was as okay as she insisted she was.
"Alright alright, I'll get out of your hair," Chef Hatchet snarled as he walked away. "Now I gotta go tell prairie boy's friends that visiting hours are still not optional."
"Why?" Heather called out to him.
"Oh what do you care, you're not his friend. Weirdos," the cook in the tight, white, nurse's dress replied.
Growling to herself, Heather looked over at Ezekiel. The prairie boy had a bandage around his head, and looked to be asleep. She stood up and walked over to him. When she saw the gentle rise and fall of his chest, she sat down next to her.
There were no words for some time; Heather had always found it ridiculous to talk to someone who couldn't hear you. She never understood why they did that in the movies, but now...
Before she could say something, Ezekiel stirred and moaned. His face curled up as if he was suffering from a nightmare. "No... no...," he began to mutter.
"Zeke?" she whispered, concerned.
"Rachel... why?" he continued to whimper. "Everyone... no... dad, I want to die... doo'nt make me go back there... they hate me..."
It all struck Heather then. She felt tears sting her eyes as she realized, after years of convincing herself that it was okay, that she was just as bad as the girl, the kids in general, who had scarred him like this.
"No," she thought, "I'm worse than that. I'm the queen bee, I organize this."
"I want to die...," Ezekiel moaned, "I... want to..."
"No, Zeke," Heather sobbed, grabbing his hand. She buried her face in it and whimpered, "Please don't want to die! Please don't... I'm sorry for everything I did to you... the insults, the ice water, stealing your necklace, leaving you buried in a mudslide, beating you up... I'm so sorry."
Her tears spilled from her eyes, splashing on his hand. She felt his fingers move, then looked up to see the prairie boy's eyes had opened slightly.
"I always knew," he whispered, "that you deserved a second chance."
She managed to smile, despite that she was still crying. "You... you really did?"
"Well, maybe 'second' is too big of a stretch, eh," he said as he forced himself to sit up. He wobbled slightly, but with the help of Heather, he steadied himself. "I mean, you mentioned a'boot four instances where I almost gave up."
"I can't see why or how you did."
"Oh, I'm just no good at carrying a grudge, eh."
The two smiled at each other, Heather still teary-eyed. He reached out and wiped away the excess water and then added, "You do look a lot better with'oot make-up, you should knoo'."
"No, I doo'nt... errr, don't," Heather replied. "Zeke, now you got me talking like you!"
Ezekiel grinned, then he leaned closer to her. She swallowed hard, then leaned in close too.
And then the Masters of Good Moment Ruining himself, Chris Maclean, popped into the tent. "Hey, Zeke, Heather!"
The two jumped from the sudden entrance, and both glared at the host, who continued to say, "The marshmallow ceremony is in a half-hour, so get refreshed, get clean, and meet you there!"
He turned and said before he left, "And neither of you are voting, it's up to the others which of you walks the Dock of Shame!"
Ezekiel and Heather took all this in, looked at each other, then said, "I really/truly hate that man."
(Confession Cam - We only got a couple appearances? What the hell?!)
Heather - \long, exasperated sigh\ "What a day."
Beth - "Is there any doubt who we're going to vote for?"
Gwen - "The time has finally come!"
Harold - "This'll be vengeance most awesome!"
Chef Hatchet - "Those two ruined a perfectly good hole! I even put cover over it so that no one would damage it, but they just had to walk their fat butts over it, and break the cover. Lousy teenagers, but what can you do?"
Chris Maclean stood behind the oil drum, drumming his fingers on the plate that had only one marshmallow on it. He was staring at Ezekiel, who looked like he was trying to keep his balance on the stump-like chair.
"You going to be okay there, Zeke man?" he asked.
"As okay as I'll ever be, eh."
"Because if you're walking the Dock of Shame, you might fall over into the water, the way you're wobbling."
Heather scoffed. To most, it sounded like she was laughing at Ezekiel, but she was really thinking about something else. "Just hurry it up, Maclean," she grumbled.
"No, we want this to be as long as possible," Beth replied, grinning wickedly.
"Because whoever we all voted for," Gwen said, crossing her arms and smirking at Heather, "is going to walk the Dock of Shame..."
"Board the Boat of Losers," Bridgette added.
"And isn't coming back," Harold concluded.
"FOREVER," the six campers on the side shouted. Ezekiel gripped his head and winced in pain.
"Still a little sensitive to loud noises, guys," he said.
Chris Maclean had a sulky expression. "Steal all my lines, why don't you? Bunch of wild teenagers, getting all rebellious, using my technology, falling down holes, voting for the person who actually makes this show interesting to watch..."
He sighed, then plucked the marshmallow up off the plate. "Heather, Zeke, this is the final marshmallow.
"And tonight... it goes to...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
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...
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"Ezekiel."
The prairie boy raised a hand and caught the marshmallow. "Thank you, eh," he muttered.
"Alright Heather," Chris said, his sadistic grin back, "it's time for you to move your caboose off the show."
As the queen bee threw her hair back and scoffed, Gwen added from the crowd, "And it's about damn time too!"
"Finally, we don't have to put with your insults and back stabbing schemes," Beth added.
"Not to mention how you hog the communal washrooms," Harold said, nodding.
"Well fine," Heather replied as she stood up, glaring at the others. "I actually want to go. I don't think I could have bared another second with you freaks and dweebs."
She turned to Ezekiel, opened her mouth, then sighed. The queen bee, without a single word, stomped towards the Dock of Shame.
"Hey, you're still wearing Ezekiel's jacket," Izzy called out.
Heather stopped to look down at herself. She had forgotten all about that. Before she could do something about it though, Ezekiel was by her side.
"I suppose you want this crusty thing back," she said, though a faint smile was on her lips.
"If you doo'nt mind, eh," he said, smiling.
"I'll never understand you," she said as she pulled the jacket over her head. "And why are you smiling? You happy to get rid of me? Well, I'm glad to be away from here, I-"
She was silenced as Ezekiel pulled her to him and kissed her. Her eyes went wide, but she felt herself sink into the kiss. When they parted, she was breathless; so were the other campers, gaping in shock.
"Work on that attitude of yours, eh," he said, patting her on the shoulder. "I prefer nicer girls."
Her face flushed pink, Heather giggled uncharacteristically before she turned around and walked down the Dock of Shame. She boarded the Boat of Losers and it head off into the night. She didn't once look back or wave, but she was hunched over with her finger caressing her lips.
Ezekiel watched from the beach, sighing as he put his jacket back on. "What a night, eh," he said to himself.
Then, he was besieged.
"What happened with you two down there?" Izzy exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind and squeezing him. "Tell momma Izzy all about it!"
"You're kissing Heather?!" Gwen cried out. "Zeke, I thought you were sane, but you have to be freaking mental to be kissing her!"
"I thought you said you weren't interested in her?" Bridgette asked, looking crestfallen. "What happened between you two down there?"
"Dude, you were so smooth," Cody cheered. "That was like something you'd see in the movies!"
"Hey, one at a time, eh," Ezekiel declared. "And Izzy, please let go of me, you're making me really nervous!"
"Oh, I was holding onto you earlier today, you didn't protest then."
"It's true," Beth said, nodding at Ezekiel. "She was the one who pulled you out of the hole."
Ezekiel paled, and looked ready to faint. Harold saw this and gripped his shoulders. "Zeke, you feeling dizzy, man? Do you need to go back to the medical tent?"
"He was smooching Heather," Gwen cried out. "He's obviously caught something horrible!"
"Guys, guys, guys," Bridgette shouted, pushing everyone away. "Ezekiel needs to go lie down, he doesn't need us all crowded around him. C'mon, Zeke, let's go."
She took him by the hand and pulled him away from the others, leaving to discuss what they thought was the reason for Ezekiel kissing Heather ("the concussion," "dare," "alien parasite").
The surfer girl and prairie boy were quiet for a few seconds when they were away from the others. He broke the silence by asking, "You disapprove, doo'nt you?"
"Can't say I don't, but," Bridgette sighed, "it's your choice, Zeke. If you feel she can be trusted..."
The surfer girl shrugged. "Just that... that smile she had on her face after you kissed her... that didn't looked forced at all."
"She's still gonna need a lot of work, eh," he admitted. "But I'm up for it."
She couldn't help but smile. "If anyone could tame her, it'd be you."
"Ayup yup! Get me my whip, eh, I'm gonna tame me a wild cat when this contest is over!"
Heather - Unable to vote.
Ezekiel - Unable to vote.
Gwen - Heather.
Beth - Heather.
Bridgette - Heather.
Harold - Heather.
Cody - Heather.
Izzy - Heather.
--
Voted off List - Owen, Sadie, Geoff, Leshawna, Justin, Lindsay, DJ, Trent, Katie, Duncan, Tyler, Courtney, Eva, Noah, Heather.
Remaining Campers - Harold, Beth, Bridgette, Cody, Gwen, Izzy, Ezekiel. (7 left.)
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Okay, I am very hopeful this chapter turned out alright. I know it's going to cause a wide range of replies, from delighted to... \quickly puts on a Kevlar helmet and vest\ ... but I'm ready for the feedback. So fire away.
And BOOYA! I made it to 300k words! Right on the chapter number that is the answer to life, the universe, and everything! Awesome!