Some changes start off big. Others start off small, so small nobody realizes what happened until long afterwards. But sometimes the smallest changes are the ones that make the biggest difference of all. In the summer of 2007, change was coming for a young man named Duncan. At a particularly important juncture in our story he lay passed out on a bench, deprived of all sense and energy by three consecutive days without sleep.
The lack of rest had not come from any spurious, illicit adventures under the full moon. One might assume from his criminal appearance that it would be the case, but on this rare occasion they would be wrong about that. No, his lack of sleep was brought on by his hard-fought bid to win a challenge for his team, for Duncan was among the nine individuals that made up the Killer Bass. Once they had been eleven strong, but two consecutive defeats at the hands of their enemies left their ranks depleted. The Screaming Gophers, undefeated and still boasting their eleven full members, had mastered their foes at every turn thus far, and it was with the shadow of defeat looming over him and his teammates that Duncan would have to make his decision.
Though today it was Dodgeball in which the two teams fought for supremacy, these teams were not any sort of sports organization. Rather, the twenty teenagers that were arrayed in the dodgeball court that afternoon had arrived there as part of a new television program, orchestrated by the parent network to jump into the explosive and soaring trend that was reality television. Total Drama Island, the hit program that would take the world by storm one day, was on its surface a simple game. Twenty two teens, split into two teams, would compete every three days in various challenges that put their wits, strength, cooperation and cunning, to the test.
Wits, strength and cunning were something that a young woman named Courtney thought she had in spades. So why couldn't she rally her team to win a single challenge in this seemingly simple game? Every bit the image of a prim and proper young lady, she had a dusky complexion, and carob brown hair in a neat bob cut. Despite the deplorable living conditions on the island, she did her best to keep it clean, and to keep her gray overshirt and olive green slacks smooth and mostly-stain free. Just because she was living on an island full of mud and filth didn't give her any excuse to slack on presentation.
She would need a lot more than good presentation to come through with this challenge however. The score was 2-0 against her team, and they were playing to 3 games. If they didn't win this next round, they were toast. Courtney could not let that happen. She would not let that happen. She was not a failure, not even if she was surrounded by the weakest bunch of slackers she had ever met in her life.
That's where Duncan came into our story, for it would not be of his own volition that he made the choice he did that day. Instead, it was Courtney whose eyes fell upon his unconscious form, seeking the strength necessary to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. Oh, there were other strong men on their team no doubt. Geoff, a guy with an unbuttoned pink dress shirt, showed off a rugged six pack and tan-lines from his time in the sun. He was strong, but had the personality of a six foot tall golden retriever puppy. Lovable, goofy, harmless. He seemed to hardly even care about the game at all, viewing the whole competition as some exclusive party getaway. He made Courtney's skin prickle with annoyance.
Little better was DJ, a hulking giant of a boy in a green shirt and black shorts, his hair kept under a white cap. Courtney could have sworn he was halfway to being seven foot tall, but all that height, those broad shoulders and powerful build, were wrapped in an even tempered, gentle package. He could be more serious than Geoff at times, but he had to be provoked, and so far Courtney had yet to figure out how to do it. Berating, ordering, begging, none of it seemed to get through.
Rounding off the last of the truly strong players that had taken to the court thus far, Tyler had a similar build to Geoff and all the opposite problems in personality. Dressed in a red tracksuit with white trim, the brown-haired jock looked and acted like he stepped straight out of a sportswear ad. Enthusiastic, athletic, and aggressive, but without the intelligence or the coordination to back up any of his bold plays. He was also conspicuously missing from the court for the past few minutes, probably for the better.
Besides those three, there remained only four others that had taken to the court thus far, none of which she was particularly impressed by. Bridgette was such a klutz that she was more of a liability than an asset and Harold was so scrawny and sickly looking she wouldn't even allow him on the court. And then there were Katie and Sadie, who Courtney considered to be little better intellectually than children. Still, she had to give them some credit. Katie had scored the only two outs their team had managed.
That left only Duncan, who had not yet taken to the court nor risen from his slumber despite the chaos of shouting, whistle blows and the loud bonks of dodgeball strikes all around him. He was strong, but unlike every other boy on their team, he combined that strength with a mean streak a mile long. His arrival on the island was heralded with threats of violence against anyone who looked at him or spoke against him in a way he didn't like. Which is why nobody had the nerve to attempt waking him until this point. But now, Courtney realized they had little choice. She gathered her team on the benches, and laid out her plan
"Okay, this is bad. This is really bad. One more game, and we lose. We need to turn this around. We need someone strong, someone mean. Someone who will crush the Gophers into the dirt." Courtney smacked her fist into her palm for emphasis, and some of the team began to understand what she was getting at. Slowly, all eyes present glanced down at Duncan, still unmoving in his torpor.
"Nuh-uh. Remember what he said?" DJ was the first to protest. "If we wake him, he'll kill us."
"He won't kill us guys." Courtney shook her head. "He wants to win too."
"Courtney's right." Harold spoke up, surprisingly in agreement with her. "We need Duncan's fierceness to win this."
Finally, someone who understood the gravity of the situation they were in, Courtney thought. And thus, the most likely person to follow through with the next part of the plan.
"That's the spirit Harold," She offered him some encouragement to butter him up for what came next, "Now go wake him up."
"Why me?" He asked, visibly distressed at the idea of having to go anywhere near Duncan. Okay, that didn't go as she had hoped.
"Because, other than Trent, you're the worst at dodgeball." She told him flatly. Goodbye carrot, hello stick. "And if he does kill you, you're the only person we can afford to lose."
But, Harold refused to budge, shaking his head and saying, "No way, I'm not waking him."
Courtney's brow furrowed in irritation, they were running out of time before the next round began and they needed Duncan in now. "Alright." She said tersely, "So who's gonna wake him up?"
Nobody volunteered, and so Courtney had to do all the thinking for her team of abject failures. Again. Even though she was mostly sure Duncan wouldn't kill anyone, she still didn't want to be too close to him when he did wake up. Just in case.
The solution they arrived at was rather crude. Take a long stick, and poke Duncan from a safe distance so that, should he awake suddenly and angrily, they were all safely outside the reach of being shanked. The first few prods jabbed him in the butt, drawing no response. So Courtney and the others adjusted their aim higher, trying to go for maybe his cheek, or his ear.
Then it went right up his nose, and without even opening his eyes a hand seized the stick and wrenched it from their grip by force. His eyes opened, outlined by heavy black rings as he snapped the branch in two in a display of force. Duncan had a square jaw and large brow, with broad shoulders and a slouch in his stance. He looked vaguely paleolithic, if cavemen had worn spiked collars, facial piercings and other such punk paraphernalia. Everything from the scowl on his face, to the fists he was forming and the way he was approaching Harold said he was not happy to be awake.
"You better have a good reason for sticking this thing up my nose." He snarled, getting within arm's reach of Harold before Courtney intervened, putting herself between the boys and holding her ground against Duncan.
"Look." She said, taking in a deep breath, "We are down two-nothing. I can appreciate that you need a little naptime, but we need your help."
That got his attention. She didn't just want his help, she needed it. What was more, her tone and presentation demanded it. Duncan didn't like when people demanded things from him, but was mildly impressed she had the nerve to do it anyways. Perhaps he had underestimated this chick after all. But she wouldn't get it easily, he would make sure of that.
"Oh?" He crossed his arms, "And why should I help you, darling?"
"Because," She looked him dead in the eyes, leaning closer to emphasize her point. "If we lose this game, I can personally guarantee you that you'll be the one going home, darling."
Now she was threatening him. Duncan really didn't like that. Well, not usually, but when a girl so good looking had the guts to stand up to him, well it had his attention. Had anyone else asked, they would be met with a swift rebuke while he returned to sleep, but with Courtney, he had to make a decision.
Was his sudden interest in Courtney and her fiery spirit greater than his long-standing hatred for authority? While the formula was simple, it was a precarious calculation that could easily go either way. Had he not been in such a dismal mood, or so deprived of rest, it would have been a trivial choice. In fact, were either of those the case, he likely would have taken to the court from the beginning, and the Bass's situation would not be so dire as it was now.
Duncan had a choice to make now, and he made it with the same irreverent apathy that defined him. He shrugged, rolled his eyes, and shook his head.
"Seriously princess? Trying to send me home because you lost us the game and you need me to bail your sorry butt out? It ain't happening."
He turned around, shuffled back towards the bench, then collapsed right there and returned to his slumber. Courtney was floored, too taken aback to say anything at first. The shock then flashed into rage, and she let out a furious scream at him.
"Get back here!" She barked harshly, fighting to keep tears out of her eyes as her hands balled into fists of rage, which she shook at him in fury. "We can't do this without you! We need you! Duncan, come on!"
But her words failed to move him, he had already made up his mind. And once Duncan made up his mind on something, he didn't back out. He doubled down. After a barrage of berating, begging and screaming, Courtney's voice was hoarse and her breath short. None of it mattered. It felt like nothing she did mattered, and that she was just destined to keep losing like this.
"We needed you…I needed you…" She croaked, barely audible under her breath.
Before she could try anything else to change his mind, the whistle blow screeched across the court and Chris called both teams back to the court. It was like beckoning lambs to a slaughter. Courtney tried to keep her chin up, but she was visibly rattled when she took to the court, something her enemies took notice of right away as the players lined up.
"Wow, begging the juvie dirtbag to play for you? You guys really are desperate. Not like it would have helped you anyways." Heather was, without a doubt, the meanest girl on the island. Tall, with a fair complexion and stark, jet back hair reaching most of the way down her back, her snide tone screamed condescension even when she was passing out compliments- all of which were fake. Her maroon tube top and beige short-shorts left a lot of skin exposed on a finely shaped frame. The message was clear: she was hot, she knew it, and she wanted everyone else to know it too.
But her tone lacked the biting edge it usually had. It was tempered with a strong measure of a tone Courtney could only guess at being disappointment. Like a predator lamenting that its prey had ceased struggling. She had been lobbing taunts at them the whole game, and much to her chagrin that would soon come to an end. Well, not if Courtney had anything to say about it. They were down, but not out yet.
Firing the first shot of the round, she set her sights on a target she could hardly hope to miss: Owen. Easily the heftiest of the campers, the blonde boy never made any qualms about how fat he was, even to the point of encouraging others not to tiptoe around the issue. Usually, he was jolly and fun, even to the opposing team, but Dodgeball seemed to bring something out about him that was, simply put, frightening. His throws felt like getting whacked with a rubber club, and Courtney aimed to take him out first as the biggest threat.
Her shot was easily blocked by his ball however, leaving her with only her catching skills to defend herself from the counter-attack. The first shot came straight back at her from Owen, and she dodged it just barely, but the next one hit her square in the thigh and sent her back to the stands.
That one had come from Leshawna, one of the most powerful presences in the entire enemy team. She was self-described as large and in charge, and here to win. What she lacked in agility or coordination she made up for with power and a decisive confidence in the way she moved. Nobody on the court could quite match it, and here it once again proved a boon to the team. With Courtney out, she could only watch what was left of her team try to fend for themselves.
Geoff, ever the enthusiast, was the next to make a play, firing a diagonal shot at Izzy. Not the brightest move. Of all the people on the court, Izzy was the most agile he could have picked, dodging his throws with deft agility. A pale, scrawny redhead in provocative green clothing, with far more skin exposed than Courtney thought was decent, Izzy was both highly energetic and completely unpredictable in her motions. It was like striking out against a shadow.
His attack failed, Geoff now was without armament as Owen launched another ball. The party-boy tried to catch it, but the power behind the ball wrenched it from his outstretched hands and sent it sailing into his gut. The whistle blew, Geoff was out. That left it up to Katie, Sadie and Bridgette to pull this off. And Courtney knew that wasn't going to happen.
Katie made a throw for Beth. Not a bad target. Pudgy and bespectacled, the Gopher's own green shirted, pink-pants wannabe was neither athletic nor particularly quick-witted. But she wasn't too dim, nor too weak to catch the limp-wristed toss Katie had sent her way. She and Sadie shared a short, forlorn look before the tall and thin twin trudged off to go sit with the rest of her team of losers. Beth squealed with delight at her first out, turning to the stands and waving the ball above her head. Her beaming smile and hopeful eyes watching for their approval.
"Did you see that? I got it, I got it!"
"Way to show those goldfish their place," The Gopher's resident regent scoff haughtily, "Send in dorkus, this better be over by noon so it doesn't cut into my exfoliating routine."
"Pffft, god forbid you don't get eight hours a day preening." Grumbled a lone voice of dissent. The grungy malcontent with shaggy teal hair (painted, not dyed) was Gwen. Her chaotic combination of three tops said volumes about her hatred of mainstream fashion that the Queen Bee embodied.
"Shut it weird Goth girl. Cody, get out there and do your thing with those magic balls!"
"The only thing magic about his balls is that they haven't dropped yet." If Noah wasn't constantly spitting such biting remarks, one might mistake him for a statue. The entire game he hadn't moved an inch, and even looking up from his book caused him to groan and struggle. Though, that might have had something to do with his prodigiously large head, housing a brain far too large for his weak and atrophied form to support.
With the outcome so clearly decided, Noah didn't even bother to acknowledge Cody's entrance into the game. It was already over, after all. A round-faced stringbean sporting a gap-tooth, he may have looked ready to be carried off by a stiff breeze, but on the Dodgeball court he had proven himself a menace. He could throw the wildest curveballs anyone had ever seen, and knew some manner of trick with static electricity that would draw the ball towards any wool clothes like a homing missile. Cody confidently strutted into the playing area, having already picked up a ball from the sidelines and with a target in sight the moment he landed on the court.
Readying himself for another curve shot, he took aim at Bridgette and lobbed another ball her way. It arced across the court, right past her attempt to catch it. But connect it didn't, for it instead it fell into the hands of Sadie.
"Whoah." Bridgette's eyes went wide. "Nice catch. How'd you-"
"You haven't seen anything yet. Katie, you're in!"
Bridgette's head turned just in time to see Katie step into the court, ball already in hand. The moment her feet touched down inside the lines she lobbed her shot at Izzy. The attack from the sidelines caught the otherwise elusive redhead completely off guard. Within seconds of Cody going, she was out as well.
The sudden turnaround had evened the odds in seconds. Three Bass versus three Gophers. The hope flickered in Courtney's heart that they could still turn this around. Just another knockout, and they'd have the advantage.
Then, as quickly as hope had glimmered before her eyes, disaster struck. Katie was not the only fast hand on the field, and Leshawna retaliated. Bridgette had no time to react when the ball struck her side, sending her back to the stands. Once again the Bass had their backs to the wall, and Courtney's hope reverted to pained anxiety. While the two best friends had exceeded all her expectations for them, she doubted they could pull this off.
What came next could only be described as a ballet, if the dance moves vaguely resembled the ebb and flow of a Michael Jackson music video, and there were dodgeballs being lobbed across the dance floor. Despite how little that may sound like ballet, the best friend's valiant attempt to stay in the fight came to resemble a dance not in appearance, but in character. Their expertly timed dodges slipped past the powerful shots Leshawna and Owen lobbed their way, then in one seamless motion they would spin through the dodge to throw one right back at their aggressors. It was an unceasing ebb and flow of motion, the two working together to cover each other with carefully timed deflects and blocks without saying a word.
It couldn't go on forever. Something had to give. And while Sadie was certainly far more agile than her build would suggest, she was also the easier target of the two. After several hard-fought minutes, she finally went down to a hit from Owen. Now Katie was alone, with three opponents facing her.
"C'mon Katie, don't let them scare you!" Sadie cheered, "You can do this!"
From the other side of the court, a voice echoed her in mockery. "Woohoo! Yeah, go Cathy, throw those murder balls. You're totally not dead honey, you can toooootally win this."
"Uh, Noah, she's on the other team." Beth said blithely. "You really shouldn't be cheering for her."
The bookworm stared at her blankly, unsure if this was some sort of obtuse joke or she genuinely thought he was cheering for the hyperactive ditz on the opposite team. Heather just facepalmed at her lackey.
"Just knock her out and win the game. Less chit chat, more winning, people."
Beth obeyed the order snappily, turning her focus back to the court just in time to see a dodgeball fly right past her. But it wasn't aimed at her, and it wasn't thrown from the court. The sound of a loud bonk resounded from the stands, and Noah lay crumpled in a heap after a hit squarely to the head. Courtesy of Sadie, who had not taken his taunting kindly.
Everyone had a good laugh at that, and Leshawna was tempted to throw one at Heather in the same spirit. But today she felt more like winning than getting one over on her rival, and so she turned her focus back to Katie. The stick-thin girl held her ground, ready to dodge or deflect.
Leshawna took her shot, just barely missing as Katie twisted out of the way. Katie kept her ball close to her chest, not willing to throw unless she saw a good opening. Instead, she waited for the next throw. The next couple minutes would see her slip past many balls hurled her way, doing her best to get in counter-attacks but struggling against the pressure that three of them could focus on her alone.
It had to end, and Leshawna was the one who made sure it did. She got Katie whilst diving away from another ball thrown by Beth, sealing her fate and that of the Bass along with her. For want of a mohawk, the dodgeball game was lost. And for want of a dodgeball game, the Bass were lost.
"And that's three wins in a row by the Gophers!" Chris McClean was struggling to give an engaging, energetic performance with his announcement, but the host always put on his best face for the camera. He could make paint drying into a thrilling experience with his presence, he thought of himself, so even if this was the most boring, one-sided curb stomp imaginable he was going to work his magic on it. "Killer Bass, looks like you're dead in the water. Three in a row? Ouch!"
Some of them glared at their host, others looked away in shame. Courtney slammed her eyes shut, and made a sound like coughing up a frog, her chest tightening painfully. She quickly pulled herself together before Chris took notice. She wouldn't let him, or anyone here, have the satisfaction of seeing her break. She'd already prostrated herself badly enough by going to that degenerate Duncan for help.
Seeing the Bass lament their sorry state brought a bit of sincerity to an otherwise forced smile that Chris wore. Perhaps their suffering would make a decent episode in lieu of an interesting challenge. "Okay campers, head to the mess hall for some rest and chow. Bass, I'll see you at the campfire tonight. Again."
In no particular order the teams shuffled out of the dodgeball court and towards the mess hall. Courtney quietly broke away from the group to go record a confessional, slipping unnoticed away from her team. She nearly collapsed onto the seat once she was inside, slamming the door shut behind her. Her hands were shaking as she fumbled the lock shut, and when she went to speak her words came out heavy as tar.
"I failed. Again. All I've done since coming to this island is fail." She croaked, wincing as she felt the acidic sting of salt start to bite at the corner of her eyes, "What will I tell my classmates? My teachers? My parents?"
She wrung her hands together in her lap, shutting her eyes to force back her own tears. Big girls didn't cry, big girls weren't weak. Fighting it was like trying to untwist a gordian knot in her gut, stomach churning through every step. It felt like hours in there trying to compose herself, but the run time of the confessional would show less than ten minutes for her labors.
When she opened her eyes there were no more tears. The little girl was gone, and for now only Courtney remained. "I'll tell them I got rid of that dirtbag Duncan for screwing our team." She pounded a hand into her fist, "When I say someone is going down, they go down. I just have to make sure I get the votes to do it." She sighed and shook her head, a twinge of creeping regret in her voice.
"It's a shame, really. He's strong. He's mean. If he just stopped being so belligerent and thuggish and actually applied himself, he could go somewhere besides juvie."
Her return to the mess hall with the rest of her team was deceptively quiet and unceremonious. Most didn't even look up, though the blonde in the blue hoodie- Bridgette, that was her name, did glance her way as Courtney sat down. She picked at her food with her fork, disinterested. Chef's gruel was unappetizing in the best of circumstances, and her appetite was thoroughly ruined by the day's endless turmoil.
At the other end of the table, in the far opposite corner, Duncan brooded over an empty plate. He grumbled and groused to Geoff and DJ, who listened with sympathetic nods.
Her plate looked little different from how it was served when her team started finishing their food and getting up to head back to the cabins. Courtney took in a single deep breath, glancing back towards Duncan, who was still at the table.
"So, are we all in agreement on who to vote tonight?" She asked the others in a low conversational voice.
"Oh yeah!" Sadie agreed. Courtney motioned for her to be quiet, but neither her nor Katie seemed to take heed.
"Totally!" Katie concurred.
"Yeah, good riddance." Harold said breathily.
"Good riddance to who, darling?"
Courtney froze and turned her head back over her shoulder slowly, her eyes falling to Duncan. Now on his feet, the delinquent had stepped out from behind the table and approached the rest of the group. Courtney felt the hairs on the back of her neck bristle, but she stood her ground.
"You've been on trial before. Figure it out."
"Oh I've figured it out alright Princess." He said, glaring daggers at her through eyes outlined in heavy black bags of exhaustion and rage, "Figured out that we're tired of you bossing us around, acting like some high and mighty bitch who thinks she's better than everyone because she got some counselor training."
His presence visibly shook the team. Bridgette backed off behind Courtney, and Katie clung to Sadie fearfully. Courtney felt a lump well up in her throat. Doubt crept into her mind whether or not their resolve to vote him off would hold.
"If you think you're getting out of this, don't hold your breath." She spat back, not moving an inch or showing a hint of fear, "Everyone saw you turn your back on the team when we needed you."
"Have a cow much? You were already losing when I woke up, get over it darling."
The burn of anger flashed inside Courtney, and her hands balled up into fists. "Ugh you're such an insufferable neanderthal! You have no clue about responsibility, discipline, or consequences for your actions!"
"Oh there will be consequences. Tell you what. If you ask nicely, I'll let you give me a goodbye kiss before they drag your nagging butt out to the boat."
"Aaaaaargh!' Courtney shook her fists at him, uttering a primal scream, "I was an idiot thinking you could help us. Unbelievable!"
She wasn't going to dignify him any longer. All she could see was red, her head and heart were pounding furiously as she spun on her heel and marched off towards the cabins. It was the sort of tension and pent up rage that in another context might have been exciting, alluring even. Something she might have yearned to dare dip her toes into.
As she retired to the cabins, she began to calm down a bit and take stock of her situation. She'd made her case against Duncan, but beyond that she had little control over the outcome. There was nobody on the team she could trust to keep their word, and they were just as likely to vote for her after her losing her temper like that. One need only ask Eva how that had gone for her.
Throughout the rest of the day she tried to keep herself occupied. Everyone did, really. Nobody wanted to think about the elimination. Their arts and crafts yielded little more than a mess made of supplies, and nobody could agree on any games to play to pass time either. Those who had books or magazines simply got stuck in them. Try as they did to avoid thinking about it, sunset came, and with it, the elimination loomed.
Sunsets on Wawanakwa were a dreary affair. Instead of bright orange beams reflecting resplendently off the landscape, the endless tracts of swamp voraciously swallowed the dying rays into shadows of thickets and coniferous trees. The land was painted in high contrast shadows, giving the twilight hours an ominous feeling, like a noir movie set in the miserable mosquito infested nowheres of North Ontario. If it was possible to find beauty in this wretched place, Courtney had not the eyes to behold it.
That it gave way to the encroaching darkness of night was a bit of relief. It was bad enough to face the upcoming elimination without the wretched sand pile they lived on looking more like a horror movie set than it already did. Not long after, the PA screeched to life with the call, beckoning the Killer Bass to the confessionals to make their votes so that they could assemble by the campfire for their dramatic ceremony.
With each vote made, a short confessional was recorded. Nothing in their contract required it, nor had their host forced them to do so, though Chris had certainly encouraged it. By the third night, the practice was already starting to ingrain itself as tradition.
Weeks after the show had finished filming and months after that night in particular, a few of these confessionals would flash on the screen before the elimination. Courtney's would go first.
"Goodbye Duncan." She exhaled sharply through her nose as the pen scratched off the box beside his name on the list. "Hope you missed your parole officer."
Next would be Duncan himself, vindictively scribbling in the box by Courtney's name on the ballot with a scowl. "You may be hot Ms. CIT, but you're a psycho." His lips curled upwards into a smug grin and he leaned back against the confessional, "By the way, if you're watching this after I win? Give me a call once you get that pole out of your ass."
A few frames of static later and Harold appeared on the screen, flashing the ballot at the camera for all to see. "That jerk Duncan thinks he's sooooo cool. Let's see how cool he looks on the boat of losers."
Geoff was next. "Listen man, Duncan may have totally bummed us out, but I gotta vote for Courtney. She's been totally harshing my mellow, how are we supposed to have a party with her taking things way too seriously?" His eyes flashed with the sparks of an idea in his little brain, "That's it! Once this is all over, I'll shoot her an invitation to come out to the coast and party with my dudes and dudettes. I don't think I've ever seen a dudette that needs to chillax harder than she does, man."
Katie and Sadie recorded their votes together, even if it was an awkward fit for the both of them in the same booth.
"Okay so we're definitely voting Duncan right?" Sadie asked as she picked up her ballot.
"Oh totally," Katie agreed as she picked up hers, and the two filled out their ballots in tandem, "He smells so bad, and those piercings are like-"
"The tackiest thing I have ever seen, I know right?"
"And that green dye on his mohawk?" Katie rolled her eyes, "Ugh, you could have picked like, literally any other shade!"
"Natural hair colors are so much cuter!" Sadie bobbed her head in agreement, "Less Green Day, more Billy Joel please!"
"Totally! Oh, or Bruce Springsteen. He's soooooo dreamy! I bet he could just like, pick me up and carry me!"
"Speaking of Bruces, I really liked Bruce Willis in Die Hard!" Sadie clapped her hands excitedly, "I love when guys get all messy and rough."
"Ewwwww," Katie winced, "But he's bald now, that's so gross!"
Eventually they had to be ushered out of the confessional by the camera crew, lest their diversion about hunky 80s stars carry on until the morning.
The last confessional to be shown was, ironically, one of the first to be recorded. DJ by himself nearly had as much of a struggle fitting into the confessional as Katie and Sadie. Far more graceful and comfortable, he sat with a pensive expression, looking down at the paper thoughtfully for a few seconds before picking up the pen to make his vote.
"Listen man." He sighed, "Duncan ain't exactly a good dude, but he ain't as bad as everyone's making him out to be either. He was pretty beat after the Awake-a-thon. He'll come around, we just gotta give him a chance. And Courtney? That girl needs to eat some humble pie."
Thus the confessionals ended. Chris arrived at the firepit, the Bass already assembled before him awaiting the verdict he had come to deliver. The host, of course, had already read the votes and prepared what he would say ahead of time. Chris McClean, from the moment he stepped onto the camera, brought with him a cheerful, energetic presence with his trademark smile and wavy hair. His brown cargo pants and blue shirt were far more practical and outdoorsy compared to the old breed of television hosts who presided over talk shows and games like Jeopardy, in their suits and ties. It projected the image of a young, energetic man who could keep pace with the teens they oversaw.
"Killer Bass. Your votes have been counted, and tonight one of you will leave and never come back. Ever. I don't need to explain how this works anymore, since you're all experts by now, so let's just get to the marshmallows, shall we?"
"Katie, Sadie. You two are safe." He said, the pair rushing up to the plate to grab their sugary safety in tandem.
"Bridgette, DJ, Tyler." He rattled off each name, and each came up to get their token of safety. These first few were always a formality, they knew they weren't a target tonight. Tyler may have been, but in the aftermath of Duncan and Courtney's feud nobody had even remembered his absence. He quietly took his marshmallow and sat back down.
"Geoff, Harold, come up and get your marshmallows."
With their safety assured, the question of elimination now fell to Courtney and Duncan. This was the moment Chris had been waiting for. The rest of the elimination was filler, but this was the meat.
"Duncan." Chris spoke sternly, "You slept while your team was getting hammered on the court. Not a good look for you. A lot of people wanted you gone tonight."
"Blow me." He growled.
"Speaking of courts." He turned a finger accusingly to Courtney, "You made a lot of yelling and screaming at your team, but failed to pull it together. Three times in a row."
His words were like ice on Courtney's tried to put on a brave face, but inside she wanted to curl up in a ball and hide. Had everyone really blamed her for the loss? When she was the only person trying to prevent it? How useless and short-sighted was this team? They hadn't voted her off, had they?
She looked around at the other teens sitting next to her. Trying to read something, any sign of what they thought of this. But their faces lay in shadow cast by the flickering firelight, making it nearly impossible to read them well. Though her expression remained neutral, Courtney's heart was jumping into her throat as Chris's pause went on and on. They couldn't have turned on her, right?
Had they?
"I have one last marshmallow on this plate, and two people I can give it to." He held onto that last line, his eyes scanning between the two as they held their breath waiting for a decision.
"Courtney."
Every muscle in her body went completely rigid. Her eyes followed his hand as it reached down to the plate, holding up the marshmallow for the one who would receive it.
"Tonight, you are…."
She braced for the worst, mentally preparing for the shame, the anguish and the embarrassment.
"Safe!"
Just like that, the weight of the world lifted from her shoulders, and all the terrible things she feared never came to pass. She felt light-headed when she stood up, as if somehow her body had clenched so tight that the blood stopped flowing to her head, and it's return had made her woozy. She grabbed her marshmallow, sitting back down. All over, she was numb.
"Duncan. The boat of losers awaits."
Everyone's eyes were now on him, waiting to see his reaction. Would he explode in a fit of violent punk rage and attack Chris? Or would his scorn fall to the teammates who voted him off?
After several tense seconds, the explosive anger never came. "Pfft, whatever. Dweebs." He shrugged nonchalantly. He stood to leave, and for just a moment his expression betrayed something not at all like the irreverent apathy he projected.
He looked at Courtney, and behind his scowl lay pensive eyes. Was she seeing….regret? Uncertainty? It was hard to tell, there were walls up all around his emotions in the way he carried himself, but those blue eyes were like cracks in the wall through which she could see something real.
She waited, breathlessly, for him to say something. To break down into tears, admit that he was wrong, and beg for her forgiveness. To repent for his actions. Logically she never knew it never would happen, but the flight of fancy took hold in her mind for a brief second before she quashed it. There was however, some part of her, that at least hoped for an apology. A simple, one word "Sorry". That, she imagined, was not too much to ask.
It never came. He broke eye contact, and Chris's monstrous henchman Chef escorted him down to the Dock of Losers. Nobody had been particularly close to him, so the Killer Bass simply watched him board the boat wordlessly, and had equally little to say as he departed. Soon, the boat slipped into the darkness, disappearing into the night.
"Well I won't miss his fashion sense." Sadie broke the dreadful silence as they headed back to the cabins.
A few awkward laughs concurred with her statement. "Goodbye wedgies." Harold sighed with relief.
Courtney wondered if their relief was at all warranted. Though he had failed them this night, Duncan was still probably an asset. How would they recover with two of their strongest players now gone? She tried not to let it bother her. She was too tired to deal with it. All she knew was that she would not end up back here next time, even if it broke her.