I stand in front of room 108 for what feels like an entire day, staring at the door. It's at least 12:30, and commotion continues to be heard off in the distance of the long-forgotten party. My mind is racing after what just happened.

Actually, in absolute honesty, 'racing' is not the right term. My mind isn't racing. My mind is stagnant and quiet. My mind has little to think of except a slow replay of the past half hour, with a few smaller mental display screens exhibiting scenes from earlier this evening.

All efforts at decision-making are held completely immobile, a complete system freeze inside my mind. No matter how often I mentally click control, alt, delete, my task manager always comes up with only one running program, and it's that video clip. That moment, and every associated sensation.

I tire of this computer analogy.

When I get brave, I knock on the door. He takes forever to answer. When he answers, a smile breaks through his foggy, tired face. When he smiles, I do too. When we smile, we get closer together, and wordlessly, we kiss and his mouth tastes like sour sleep and faint alcoholic aftertaste.

Alternatively, when I get brave and he opens the door, he says to me that he's sorry. He tells me, 'I've always liked you, a lot, more than I should.' And, like before, we embrace awkwardly and passionately, tangling together in a tired, standing heap in his doorway. Eventually, we head into his room and fall into a heavenly slumber, limbs wrapped around each other – and consensually, this time! And I can kiss his neck without protest.

It isn't hard to guess what portion of this narrative truly occurred.

I didn't get brave. I'm still standing silently in front of his door. No light appears from under it – he must be asleep. God knows what he's thinking, that is, if he's awake. If he's awake, he's probably doing what I do right now: replaying events and analyzing them. Replaying his many decisions, from the kiss, to the Gwen-talk, to every sip of vodka, to what shirt he decided to wear.

If he's asleep, he probably imagines similar things, but in a kind of metaphor. Maybe he speaks to a conglomerate monster that incorporates bits of me, and Gwen, and Trent, all into a freakish heathen, trying to teach him a lesson about self-awareness and to connect him to his deeper desires.

Or maybe he's dreaming about something simpler, like falling off a cliff as the world spins around.

Or in the likeliest case, as he's been in bed for twenty to thirty minutes at most, he's not yet entered the rapid-eye movement stage and is only beginning to experience delta-wave patterns associated with deep-stage sleeping, slipping into the inactive and dreamless darkness of profound slumber. He has at least a half-hour more before any regrets of today manifest themselves in a nocturnal haunting of his brain.

But I am awake, so any potential confusion I face lies squarely on me already. I do not knock on his door. From Heather's room I can hear the 'How it's Made' theme song play noisily. I crack a smile at that. I go to my room. I get into bed. I don't try to sleep.

I stare at the blank ceiling in my room, eyes getting heavy. I can still hear faint hooting coming from the basement, as it's a well-known fact the party isn't over until Owen eats himself into diabetic shock.

I contemplate. I re-iterate the evening. I re-imagine kissing Cody, outlining details to cement them in my mind by connecting to all five senses. My eyes were shut, so sight gets a blank. He had no particular smell himself, only the must of undisturbed room enveloped me. His lips were neither dry nor silky – kind of warm, with the sparse prickle of a teen who is at age of shaving, but rarely requires it. His saliva was nervous and foamy, with the faint acrid taste of straight alcohol – the only thing in his stomach at the time, I'd imagine. The piano filled my ears. I think all the senses are accounted for.

With my memories carefully filed, I begin to drift off to sleep.

In the instant before I slip under, I'm suddenly overcome by a bubbling excitement commencing in my heart. It rumbles with increasing strength, like a car alarm blaring with a more and more panicked scream. A disquieting ecstasy spills out from deep within, from my chest, down my spine, into every hair on my body, with a small electric tingle. Excitement. I got what I wanted. I just realize it now. I don't know what's coming next but tonight, as roundabout and complicated as it was, was a sort of accomplishment. Excitement is a feeling so foreign to me, and maybe that's why it took so long for me to feel it – my body needed to remember how.

When my veins finally loosen their clutch on my blood, I settle down and slip into an uneasy but overwhelmingly happy sleep.

I head downstairs with a mix of apprehension and passive joy coursing in me. The rational side of me continues to scream that I have no clue what I'm doing and may have ruined my closest friendship on this damn show, but the girl side of me is giddy. Besides, today is the last day. Even if I pounced on him, what would really be the repercussions? I pretend to not be searching for Cody as exit the house to stand near the pool area.

You would think after a night of partying that my fellow campers would be doing some major snoozing right now, but contrary to expectations, the majority of the cast is outside, playing Frisbee and eating marshmallows. The late night debauchery did not put the damper on day-time shenanigans.

Cody's not there, but Chris McLean is.

This sort of lump manifests itself in my throat. This lump is an instinct that tells me that Chris isn't here to deliver some simple goodbyes. My gut tells me that he's here to hook us in like the wriggling money-fish we are, to send us on another needless, convoluted adventure.

"What is he doing here?" I say to myself.

Harold passes by holding a bundle of flowers. "Who?" he asks, overhearing me.

"Chris." I point a finger in the direction of the small man. "Is he here to send us into yet another round of wrestling matches with rabid vermin? Because I feel like one show-and-tell session of Owen's beaver wounds is one session too many."

Harold tosses his flowers aside immediately begins to lecture me: "Beavers are actually not in the same family as rats, even though they are rodents, their similarities end in their order. Their bodies are plump and if you look at their orange teeth and bone structure they have less in common with rats…" His voice is raspy and droning. With a frown, I begin to back away, but the dweeb continues to follow me.

"Beavers are also semi-aquatic..." I tune him out and make a few suicidal gestures.

"You can borrow my journal if you'd like…as long as you don't, like, get food on it or anything…" Harold continues to drone.

"Um, no thanks, I'm good." I try to escape him. I turn and add: "Oh, and by the way, 'vermin' is not a taxonomical classification. It is wrong to call a beaver 'vermin', but vermin is actually a term to qualify any pest animals that are disease-carrying or a threat to crops."

Harold looks a tiny bit hurt.

"So…I guess that's that." I say as I walk away. I get closer to Chris and his crew in order to find out the reason for his being here.

He has a suitcase.

My gut might be right.

"Congratulations to our winner, Owen! Not sure why, but you beat everyone out, and your pockets will soon be stuffed with cheddar."

"Mmm…stuffed with cheddar?" Owen says longingly

"But you may be able to change all that. Because in this suitcase, I hold…One….MILLION….DOLLARS!"

Yep, this is a dream come true. I'd love to play another game of humiliate the teens, what else can happen today?

Piling back on the boat yet again, I suddenly remember the train of thought I'd had when I woke up this morning, a thought that was obscured by the immensity of new developments in this game. I take a deep breath when no one is looking, make sure my eyebrows are perfectly cocked into my usual expression of passive disdain, and take a seat next to Cody on the boat.

"It seems people are finally considering working together. Took them long enough." I say to break the ice, not really looking at him as we share a bench.

"Yeah!" he says with a grin. "I'm so pumped to have a second chance." His face is completely earnest, almost as if yesterday changed nothing, or maybe as if it never happened.

I stall for a moment, searching for something interesting to say – something interesting but acceptably normal.

"So, um, do you have a team?" I figure he'll say no, but with any request, it's more polite to phrase it as a question than as a demand.

"Yep, I've hooked up with the former winner! Along with DJ and Tyler. I think that's a pretty solid team. I mean, in terms of brute strength we're an Eva away from unstoppable." He briefly makes a muscle to emphasize his point. I'm honestly surprised that he's found people to work with other than me. I guess that leaves me on my own.

I search around the boat and notice that everyone is clustering around each other – everyone is finding a party to search for the money with. And I'm here alone. I might be a smart schemer, but I have little experience in this game, and if I want any hope of survival, I'll need to team up with someone, as much as I don't want to.

As I debark from the boat, I watch as Cody rushes over to Owen, Tyler and DJ. Although I am not very well acquainted with DJ or Tyler, Cody and Owen are probably my best friends on the island, so I suppose I could be a fifth ranger for them. Even split five ways, the money would amount to double the original prize per person. Or if I was really desperate, I could even pair with Heather – last night's little conversation left the slightest feeling of warmth and camaraderie between us, at least on my side. Or maybe she likes me less, because I've witnessed her in a moment of weakness.

After pondering my options for an instant, I begin to make my way towards Cody and Owen when I'm intercepted by a burly arm around my neck and shoulders.

"Listen string bean." Eva's gruff voice utters. I feel a bit threatened by her proximity, especially seeing as this may be the first time she ever addressed me. "I'm making a little team up, and I want your help. We've got muscle, we've got ambition, and all we need is smarts. You've got that, I take it?"

I open my mouth to speak, but I truly fear arguing with a She-Hulk. I furrow my brows to look courageous. "Alright. What's the plan?"

"Simple: we get the money."

I take a deep breath and follow her. "So if I'm the brains, and you're the brawn, who's the ambitious member?"

On cue, I hear a shriek come from a tree as Izzy catapults off of it and lands in a crouch before us. In a dark voice, she says: "Noah. Izzy. Eva. The team that is destined for victory."

Her voice perks up as she rises to her feet and follows Eva and me. "We should call ourselves team NEI. Get it, cause they're the first letters in our names! An acronym! Did you know 'Nei' is Norwegian for 'NO!'? I learned that because one time, I decided that I should learn how to say 'no' in 30 different languages just in case I get assaulted in a foreign country and I want them to go away. Maybe I should have learned to say 'help!' but I don't really trust foreign cops, anyway, so I don't know why I even bother, I know I can defend myself against Norwegian attackers!"

I bring my fist to my mouth and bite down on it lightly, facing the horror of what I just signed myself up for.

"…And that's why I got kicked out of school in seventh grade! Maybe later I'll tell you about my most recent expulsion which was in grade 10, it was really crazy because it was during seal hunting season and a lot of people show up in my town during seal hunting season! Hey, are we still supposed to be searching up trees?"

Izzy scurries up a tree once again. Eva and I hurry after her. There's some commotion on the beach…Courtney is running with the suitcase. Running away from Duncan, who is incapacitated on the ground. She has the suitcase! My heart is suddenly in my throat. I nudge Eva and we glance at each other apprehensively.

We take off towards the arrogant latina, though I have difficulty keeping up with the athletic Eva. Izzy's insanity manages to accomplish something positive for me, for the first time since I've met her. The branch she suspends herself on high in a tree bows under her weight. It snaps, sending a shower of pine needles down on Courtney, followed by 130 pounds of wacky.

Izzy holds up the suitcase in disbelief. Recognizing her victory, she darts down the beach. Eva and I explode in excited giggles – somewhat unusual for both our characters – and follow her, I at a more leisurely pace than she.

I pass Duncan momentarily. Duncan is a dick, and I'm glad it's he we stole the suitcase from. I won't go so far as to say I blame him for the awkward evening I endured last night, but victory over him still feels sweet. I grin confidently as I pass him, lying on the sand.

"So, your girlfriend turned on you, eh? Bet you feel like a loser now. Like…less of a man!" hearing those words coming from the gayest kid on the island is sure to drive him up the wall, but in his current state, there's little he can do.

"I'm enough of a man to take your head off, geek!" he snarls as he grabs me by the ankle.

I scream. I run.

Not my proudest moment.

Sitting on the dock in antlers, goggles and a red nose, I feel like slamming my face into the nearest post until I'm knocked unconscious.

I could go into great detail about every single thing Eva, Izzy and I did wrong today, but instead I think I'll choose to summarize it briefly and resume moping.

Ahem: Justin used his sexiness to steal the case from us, first of all. Allow me to go on an aside and mention how truly and deeply I hate that tanned, superficial asshole. I don't even find him that attractive – maybe strangely mesmerizing, but objectively not that pretty. After Justin ran off, Izzy put us in costumes for some reason, we dumped fish on him, Courtney got a hot air balloon, Cody almost died after being tied to Owen, DJ and Tyler by a length of rope, Bridgette and Geoff were attacked by a moose, everyone fell off the dock into the lake, and a freshwater shark – whatever that is – ate the case of money.

Now as for the reason I sit on this dock: I did not fall into the water with the case, and in some strange form of loophole, that means I can't return for the next season, at least not as a participant. However, the very same fine print that forced me to stay within the confines of the Playa des Losers after my elimination also forces me to live inside a crappy hotel during the entirety of the filming run of the next season.

This is, even moreso than the loss of the money, is the reason I want to smash my face into the dock. The others who were eliminated include the clones, the control freak, Cody, She-Demon, and Tyler. And in case I wasn't clear, She-Demon is Eva, not Courtney, although I must admit I have an increased respect for Eva since she never murdered me at any point today.

I swing my feet over the edge of the dock where Owen is floating like a rubber raft, waves lapping against his buoyant form. I pull the orange shades off of my nose and rub my temples thoroughly. When my eyes peel open again, I look down at Owen.

"Hey big guy, how does your second victory feel?"

"Awesome!" he shoots his arms up, causing him to dip to the side, sucking up some water. He rights himself. "How does it feel to lose again?" He says this with a sincere sympathy.

"Thanks for bringing that up…Eh, familiar I guess."

"I'm real sorry you can't be in the next season. You didn't even get to have any fun this season! You went home so early you didn't get to experience any of the excitement!"

I smile. "It's alright, I'm pretty sure lounging at the Playa is closer to my idea of 'fun' anyway."

"You're such a funny dude, I'm gonna miss you!"

"Oh don't worry, if I'm going to be on the sidelines, I promise I'll make snide remarks wherever possible."

The sun is beginning to go down and most of the campers have dragged themselves out of the water and are lying on the shore letting their soaked clothes dry in the cooling evening air. I notice the travel boat is approaching the dock once more, for the last last time.

"Bro, you should peel yourself out of the drink, now. I think the boat is on its way."

Owen flounders for a second and notices the boat fast approaching. He rushes to the shore and waddles down the dock. The other campers stand up slowly and hobble to where I stand. We leave the dock of losers, finally – although most of us on the dock are not losers this time, not yet.

I hold my suitcase as I maneuver to the rear of the tour bus, preparing for the two-hour-drive to Toronto. To my utter surprise, the bus is upholstered, well-lit, clean….very unlike every vehicle that we've been exposed to during our stint on the island.

The seats are paired. Cody sits behind Gwen, plugging an earbud into his ear. I stall briefly in the aisle, glancing side to side. Most people have paired. Izzy sits alone across from Owen, also alone. But despite her good work during our competition this afternoon, I've not brought myself to not be terrified of Izzy – I mean, Kaleidoscope. As for Owen, I've come to admit he's a really great guy, and I enjoy his company in moderate quantities, but I feel like willingly subjecting myself to constant gaseous outbursts and the gelatinous overhang over my armrest is not a wise choice.

So Cody it is. I shove my bag on the rack and collapse into the seat beside him. He turns to me and yanks the headphone out of his ear.

"So what's up?" He says brightly.

"Ah, simply relishing in the forgotten feeling of failure."

"Hey, at least you're not alone." He shrugs.

"Nah, if it were up to me, decent individuals like you would be getting the second chance. If it were up to me…You, Owen, Tyler, Bridgette, Heather…hell, maybe Izzy. She's insane but she has drive. You'd deserve it. And me too, 'cause I can't stand being out of it early a second time."

"Yeah, that's true. You and Ezekiel and Eva, it's like you never even took part."

"If it were up to me…Justin, Duncan, Gwen, they'd be outta here. Oh shit, Gwen's in front of us."

He chuckles. "Don't worry, she's probably too busy nuzzling Trent to really overhear anything. She's not so bad, why would you want her kicked out?"

I jerk my shoulders in surrender. "I have no idea. Did you get the hand-out?"

He motions to his lap, where the hand-out outlining the rules of the next season are listed. Season 2 is titled 'Total Drama Action'. The title worries me – season one had enough action for my tastes, how could there possibly be more? The show starts on September 1st, exactly two weeks from today. My contract says that despite not being an active participant, I still need to be in attendance for filming. This pisses me off greatly, because it means I can't return to school in the fall – the show begins two days before school does.

"So, this is gonna suck right?"

"Well, we're unlikely to get mauled, at least."

"We're also unlikely to win money."

"Maybe there will be a twist at the end where we need to do a melee race for it?"

"Maybe."

I feel perplexed by Cody. Not a single twitch, not a single crack in his behavior indicates he even has knowledge of last night. Part of me wants to yell at him, 'Cody, we kissed.' And yet the fact he has no visible recollection of the event makes me almost believe it never happened at all, which at this point would be the preferable alternative over the complete lack of recognition of recent events.

He was briefly one of my best friends, and now, seeing him gives me a quick shiver of wanting to throw up. Yet he just sits there, staring blankly at the collar of my shirt, smiling dully like nothing's wrong. I almost feel like this is completely unfair, as if I need to hold some kind of secret.

The only alternative is that he does know it happened, and that he simply doesn't care. I can't help but wonder how someone can think kissing a friend of the same sex 'doesn't matter', but maybe he's just very confident in his ladykilling abilities. Maybe he thought I was drunk, too?

The bus groans to live and the lights dim – it's getting dark out, and the driver is under the assumption that people will want to sleep. In reality, most people are too worked up, in a bundle of excitement and frustration at the new series coming up. In addition, against all odds some of these kids have become as close as family, and would rather spend their last moments together for two weeks talking and winding down.

Eventually, Cody and I delve into a nerdy game of twenty questions.

"Are you an animal?"

He pauses and grunts. "Um, maybe."

"You can't do maybe, it's yes/no."

"Well I'm not sure if it counts as an animal."

"Okay, are you a Pokemon?"

"No."

"Are you from a video game?"

"Duh!"

"Ah, do you wear clothes?"

"Um, just shoes."

"Just shoes? Are you furry?"

"No."

"Can you fly?"

"No."

An idea suddenly enters my train of thought. "Are you the protagonist's steed?"

"Steed?"

"Like animal he rides on."

"Oh! Yes! Yes."

"Are you annoying as fuck?"

"What? I don't think so."

"Yes you are, you're Yoshi."

"You're right. You think Yoshi is annoying?"

"Have you ever heard that little green bastard talk?"

"I guess I see where you're coming from. Your turn?"

"Okay. A hard one. I got one."

"Hard. Ah, jeez, are you from a book?"

I smirk. "Yes."

"Crap. Are you from a comic book?"

"Ha, nice try. No, and not manga either."

"Are you Bilbo Baggins?"

"No, what? Is that the only book character you know? Ask more questions."

"Is it a book you need to read in high school?"

"Hah, doubtful."

It takes him 79 questions, I counted, but eventually he guesses Matthias of Redwall, but only because there used to be a cartoon series about him in the early 2000s that Cody vaguely recalls from his childhood.

"I'm tired of this game, you drove me too hard."

"Try one more."

He rolls his head against the headrest. "Okay." He looks around and his eyes briefly settle on somebody.

"Are you insane?"

"Yes."

"Are you Izzy?"

"Yes."

"That was quick."

He yawns deeply. "I need to catch a plane back to the ol' N.S. tomorrow at 8:34. I might die."

I snort. "I'm taking a train, so…"

His eyes begin to droop shut as his head rests limply against the headrest. "Nighty. Wake me when we get there."

As minutes pass, his head dips closer and closer to my shoulder. I glance around the interior of the bus for a second, and then shift to the side a bit to speed up the slow-motion collision between his head and my shoulder. My heart feels surprisingly tender as his freckled nose makes contact with my shirt.

Whether or not yesterday was a real thing, I feel myself becoming more of a sap because of him. Today was a series of one disappointment after another, yet even though I lost a million dollars and lost my chance at season 2, the disappointment of complete silence from him on the topic of our kiss weighs almost as heavily on my mind.

We arrive in Toronto around midnight. Many of us have flights or trains to catch within the next twelve hours, so we opt (or rather, we are voluntold) to sleep in the reclined seats of the bus. Cody barely stirs throughout the night. I'm not bold enough to bring an arm around him. The pressure of his head against my shoulder begins to weigh on me greatly, so as much as it pains me, I let it fall off as I turn to my side to sleep.

I'm woken up many times throughout the night by the sound of fellow campers being boisterous as they leave the bus to catch flights. Bridgette, who hails from British Columbia, is the first to go, at 3:50 AM, and of course, has to leave Geoff with an emotional and extensive parting speech.

Tyler comes from Newfoundland, so he's the next to depart, somewhere during the 4 AM period. After he leaves, several people file out of the bus. I give up on sleeping at this point.

Cody's plane leaves long after sunrise, so I consider it acceptable to accompany him to his gate as he waits. To my surprise, Gwen and Trent tag along too, making pleasant small talk with him as he heads to the waiting area. I'm beginning to think maybe those Men in Black guys with the mind-erasing device came to the party last night to erase everything, because any kind of character development achieved then seems to be rendered defunct today.

I'd love to say that when Cody leaves to board at quarter after eight, that I remind him of last night, admit my affections, and deliver a cinematic airport kiss. But I don't do that, I just tell him to 'not get mauled by any more bears.' And to 'watch out for goths.'

I don't think Gwen listened for the last part.

I did something dumb last night and I decide now that if he let it slide, so will I. Two weeks from today, he'll be back in Muskoka, with me, and we'll be bros again like nothing ever happened. And it might seem like I'm angsting, but look at me, do I seem like the angsty type?

I originally made that line about Cody's team being filled with brute strength as a joke but then I realized it's actually true. Although Cody is meek and weighs like 120 lbs he also has an abnormal amount of physical strength, being able to carry Sierra, punch out Duncan, and hold on to DJ, Tyler AND OWEN as they dangle off a cliff. Cody is more than meets the eyes :O

Anyway I think this chapter is actuallyyy pretty boring but I needed the filler. Next chapter is TDA and it's likely the entirety of TDA will take place in the span of one or two chapters since Noah and Cody don't take part.

Then after that is where my little midquel kicks in (you can see it on my profile :P) and then after that, who knows, I prefer not to plan things 20000 words in advance!