As luck would have it, someone was already using the outhouse. Millie didn't mind. Instead, she curled up underneath a nearby tree and turned to a fresh page in her notebook. This was a great opportunity to write down her talking points so she'd speak clearly and succinctly in the confessional.
"Let's see," she murmured as she copied down the prompts. The Capture the Skull challenge had ended only an hour ago, but an intern had already dropped off a notecard with several prompts to jog her memory.
"Question one," Millie read aloud. "What is your opinion of Scary Girl?" Answer? Super freaky. She probably would've made a fascinating case study, but Millie valued her life too much to get close to her.
"How do you feel about the alliance with Priya?" Nervous, but excited overall! Not only was Priya a good friend but she was really good at the game. Millie didn't have those same skills. Hopefully, Priya wouldn't see her as dead weight. The only thing Millie wasn't looking forward to was the training. Her butt hurt just thinking about it.
"Describe your thought process during the challenge." Um, all she could really remember was nearly drowning at the hands of Emma's fire hose. She was definitely going to have nightmares about this.
"Who is the most interesting person you've interviewed?" Priya, for sure. Her parents had done something wrong at every stage of her development. A close second was probably Ripper, who thought farts were an achievement and that it was acceptable to use his teammate as a human shield.
The confessional door creaked open, and Millie looked up. Speak of the devil—out walked Ripper, looking smug as ever. Millie bit her lip. Yes, Ripper was an interesting research subject. But he'd also been a total jerk during the challenge.
She spoke up anyway: "Hi, Ripper." Millie prided herself on being polite, unlike some kids of her generation, who would rather stay glued to their smartphones instead of making eye contact.
"Hey, nerd," Ripper replied.
Aaaand there it was. It seemed every day Millie lost more and more faith in her peers. She dropped her gaze back to her faithful notebook to work on the next question. To her annoyance, Ripper kept talking.
"Why are you always writing stuff, anyway? I bet you couldn't go a whole day without writing in that nerdbook."
"And I bet you couldn't go a whole day without disrespecting women," Millie answered. She kept her expression calm and composed, but on the inside, she was beaming from ear to ear. That was the sickest burn ever! Priya would be so proud of her.
"You think I don't know how to respect women?" Ripper sounded somewhat offended.
"In short? No." Millie stood and dusted off her jeans. "All you do is insult Priya and me. You're living proof that chivalry went extinct fifty years ago."
"Your face went extinct fifty years ago."
"My point exactly." There was no point wasting any more time on him. Millie tried to brush past him to enter the confessional, but Ripper remained in her way, his hands on his hips.
"I'll show you how good I am at respecting women!" he declared, his thick eyebrows furrowed with determination. "For the rest of the day, all I'm gonna do is respect women."
"Riiight." Millie didn't believe that at all. "I'll believe it when I see it."
"If I can't disrespect women, that means you can't write in your nerdbook. Otherwise, I automatically win."
Millie considered it. Ripper was so juvenile that he'd make some sexist joke within the next two minutes. The bet would be over before it had even begun. She had nothing to lose, really.
"Okay," she said. "I accept your conditions."
"Woo-hoo!" Ripper pumped a fist in the air. "Get ready to be respected!"
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a confession to record."
He opened the door and waved her in. "After you."
Millie made a face, in part because the gesture was surreally weird, and in part because the outhouse smelled like rotten eggs.
Despite the smell, she sat in the confessional for a while. It was fun to ramble about her theories in front of an unblinking camera that agreed with all her opinions. Afterward, she took the scenic route through the woods and returned to the campgrounds.
The rest of the afternoon was all hers. She'd spend it writing—I can't write because of the bet. Millie halted in her tracks. Drat. What was she supposed to do now?
Luckily, she spotted Ripper in a huddle with the rest of the Trout boys. He and Chase were shirtless, and Damien held a football.
"This is perfect!" Millie murmured. "If I stop and say hi, Ripper is practically guaranteed to say something inappropriate and lose the bet!"
The boys were talking so loudly that none of them noticed when she entered their huddle.
"Hi guys!" she said loudly. That got their attention. All four of them shut up and stared at her. "What are you up to?"
"Football, baby!" Damien answered, waving it around in front of her face.
"Zee and Damien are shirts, Rips and I are skins," Chase explained as if that was supposed to impress her. "I think you can tell who's gonna win."
"I like football," Millie lied. She looked directly at Ripper. "Would you mind if I joined?"
He opened his big fat mouth. "Football is for, er…"
Then something amazing happened. He cut himself off and squinted at her as if she'd just presented him with a trick question (which, in a way, she had).
Ripper took too long to answer, and Chase jumped in. "Sorry Millie, but if you join, the teams will be uneven. Although, let's be real, two of us versus three of you would still be a fair fight."
"Don't underestimate me, brah," Zee said in that lazy drawl of his. "I have, like, the strength of an orange bull. With wings, yo. And I can fly anywhere I want. How wicked is that?"
Note to self: study Zee as soon as possible. Millie was itching to pull out a pencil and transcribe this whole conversation.
"You can keep score for us!" Ripper offered. "Not because you're a woman, but because I respect you enough to recognize you're capable of keeping score!"
"I have to give you credit, you are trying," Millie said. She stepped out of the circle and started walking. "I'll just hang out in my cabin instead. Have fun!"
"Let me come with you!" Ripper trotted after her.
"Leave some room for Chef!" Chase called.
Ignoring Chase's comment, Millie raised an eyebrow at Ripper. "Uh, why?"
"So I can open the door for you! Duh!"
His definition of respecting women is opening doors. Millie was unimpressed. Then again, I shouldn't complain. He's exceeding my non-existent expectations. Jeez, that's sad.
"I guess something's better than nothing," Millie said. Ripper ran ahead and opened the door to the girls' side. Millie thanked him, then paused in the doorway.
"What do you get out of this, anyway?"
"The satisfaction of knowing I beat you at something," Ripper said smugly. "Er, not because you're a girl. Because you're a person! I can beat guys and girls at all sorts of challenges!"
"Good for you, Ripper," Millie said. "You should get back to your football now."
"But how will I know when you're done and need the door opened so you can leave?"
Millie glanced into the room. "Let me grab a book so I can read on the porch. That way you won't have to open any doors."
"A book?" Ripper leered, and Millie perked up. He was going to insult her, and then she'd be free to write!
"Yeah, let me show you!" Millie dashed to her backpack and grabbed the biography in question. "It's a biography of Viola Desmond, the woman who challenged segregation in Nova Scotia back in the Forties. I've been really interested in some of Canada's less-remembered historical figures. Agnes MacPhail, James Gladstone, Adelaide Hoodless, people like that. Isn't that fascinating?"
The more she talked, the more Millie felt her cheeks warm. Sure, she was rambling, but it would do the trick.
Instead, Ripper said, "Cool story, Millie. I gotta get back to the game, though."
Millie deflated. She hadn't won the bet yet. On top of that, his nonchalant disinterest somehow stung more than his nerd comments.
No matter. Viola Desmond had a fascinating life story, and Millie was excited to read more about it. She set her notebook aside, kicked back on the cabin steps, and dug into the biography.
Every so often, her gaze wandered back to the football game. All four boys looked so carefree. Damien, usually so timid, looked to be in his element as he sprinted through the grass. Zee dropped about half of the throws that came his way. Ripper and Chase chest-bumped each other every time they scored a point.
More than once, she met Ripper's gaze while he was mid-run. His reckless, boyish grin brought a smile to her own face. Each time, she looked away immediately. It was a weird afternoon.
Millie had made it halfway through the book when Priya returned from the first aid tent.
"Hi!" Millie nearly dropped her book in her rush to make sure her friend was okay. "How are you? How's your head?"
"Better," Priya said. She clutched a blue ice pack against her skull. "Chef said I'm not concussed, but I know for a fact he doesn't have the medical credentials to diagnose that. I don't think we can start training this afternoon, but we can still hang out and talk strategy."
"I'd love to hang out!" Millie said.
"Great," Priya said. "Let me grab my sunglasses and water bottle and we'll hit the beach."
"Can you put my book back?" Millie held it out, and Priya took it.
While Priya was inside the cabin, Ripper scored another touchdown.
"Another dub for the Ripper!" he yelled, pounding his chest like a gorilla. "This one's dedicated to the troops! 'Cause there's a lot of women serving our great country!"
"For the women!" Zee cheered.
Millie shook her head, amused. How could something so misguided also be so… endearing?
Soon, she and Priya were relaxing in the sand. Millie asked more questions about Priya's home life. She took as many mental notes as possible. Apparently one of Canada's leading medical schools had sent an admissions information packet to Priya's house after she'd filled out a request form. Priya's parents had discovered it and spent the whole weekend yelling at her about it. Jeez.
Despite her promise of no training, Priya also tried to teach Millie how to do a push-up. Millie had never completed one before, and she wasn't able to complete one now. "Maybe tomorrow," was Priya's gracious response.
Twice, Priya announced that she had to pee and dashed off to use the bathroom back at camp. Millie was cool with that. She figured this was a natural consequence of Priya's fixation on staying hydrated.
During the second bathroom break, Ripper showed up on the horizon.
"What is he doing here?" Millie asked herself as he drew closer. He'd put his shirt back on and had both hands behind his back.
By the time he'd arrived, she'd come up with a clever one-liner to greet him: "There aren't any doors to open down here!"
"I know that," Ripper said. "I'm here to impress you with this."
Too late, Millie realized why his hands were behind his back. He pulled out a bouquet of wildflowers that he had very obviously picked three minutes ago. Ripper looked very pleased with himself.
"Thanks," Millie said, and to her surprise, she meant it. No one had ever given her flowers before. Her face felt warm. "What inspired you to do this?"
"Girls like flowers," Ripper said matter-of-factly.
"Girls are not a monolith."
"What's a—"
"It means that we're all different," Millie said. "I like flowers, sure, but Scary Girl would probably prefer a skull."
"Good thing I didn't pick these for Scary Girl," Ripper said, and then he narrowed his eyes. "Hey, do you think we should call her Scary Person instead? That might be more respectful."
It was such a stupid joke that Millie smiled in spite of herself. "Has she tried to kill you yet?"
"Me? Nah. She's probably repelled by my manly scent." Ripper puffed out his chest. Now Millie was laughing in spite of herself.
"I mean, if it keeps you alive, I guess it works." As she spoke, Millie spotted Priya in the distance, approaching quickly. "Speaking of alive, I think you should leave. Priya's gonna kill you if she sees you here."
"Good thinking. I've gotta get back to counting steamboats anyways. Catch ya later."
As he jogged away, an overwhelming sense of confusion swept over Millie. Flowers? How was she supposed to interpret this? Respecting women was one thing, but romantic overtures were quite another.
Maybe Chase or Damien gave him suggestions, she thought. Or maybe his family is extremely liberal in their flower-giving tendencies.
If only she could write all her theories down in her notebook!
When Priya got back, her expression was a storm cloud of confusion and annoyance. "Did Ripper just give you flowers?"
There was no point in lying. "Yes?" It came out sounding more like a question than a statement of fact.
"That's so typical." Priya sat down, and her eyelid twitched. "He knows he's on the chopping block, and he's trying to manipulate you into keeping him around!"
"Relax, Priya, it's not that serious!" Millie answered. She stared at the wildflowers in her lap. "I'm in an alliance with you, not him."
"I know, I know." Priya adjusted the ice pack on her head. "You're smart, and he is so not. I can't wait until he's gone! Our team is going to be unbeatable after today!"
"Yeah," Millie said. She wasn't sure that was entirely true, but who was she to burst Priya's bubble?
Dinnertime arrived in the late evening. When Millie walked into the mess hall, another shocker awaited her: Ripper was handing out plates to all the girls. He'd already given them to Emma, MK, and Julia.
Priya angrily brushed past Ripper and served herself, but Millie stopped to take a plate from him.
"Wow, thanks," she said. "You're taking this way more seriously than I expected."
"Of course I am," Ripper replied, getting in line behind her. "I'm seriously great at respecting women."
"Do you have any sisters?" Millie asked as Chef dumped her dinner onto her plate.
Priya coughed loudly. Millie had no choice but to leave Ripper hanging and join her ally.
"I want to sit with Bowie and Emma," Priya said, nodding at the two on the far end of the Frogs' table. " They didn't use me as a human shield."
"Um." Millie bit her lip and looked between the Trout table and the Frog table. "I don't know if we're allowed to sit with the other team."
That wasn't technically true. Chris had never made a rule against mingling during meal times. But for whatever reason, she'd rather sit with her own teammates. That wasn't a crime, right?
At the dinner table, Priya made a point of only talking to Damien and Millie. As interested as she was in Priya's stories, Millie couldn't help but eavesdrop on the other conversations at the table. Ripper and Chase were in a friendly debate about which of them had completed the more extreme dare.
"One time, Emma and I chased down a mall rent-a-cop so I could moon him, but I tripped down the elevator and landed in the mall fountain."
"That's not a dare, that's an accident!" Ripper shot back. "One time, my little brother dared me to sit in the washing machine for a whole cycle!"
Millie had to jump in. "You went through a wash cycle? That's so incredibly dangerous!"
Ripper held his hands up. "I had a snorkel on!"
"Okay, wicked stunt," Chase chuckled. "I'm definitely trying that out when I get back to the beach house."
"I guess Emma will get the last laugh after all," Millie muttered. Ripper made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. She looked over at him to discover that he'd accidentally snorted soda out of his nose.
He'd thought her joke was funny? The evidence was circumstantial at best, but that seemed to be the case. Somehow, that was the most touching show of "respect" she'd received thus far.
Soon Chris's voice came over the speaker, ordering the Ferocious Trout to head to the elimination ceremony. Priya volunteered to throw out the trash, and so Millie handed her plate over.
That was when Ripper tapped her arm.
"Wanna meet up after the ceremony?" he asked. "So we can officially declare who's the winner of our bet?"
It isn't that serious. That's what Millie should have told him, but instead, she found herself nodding along. "Sure. Beach? Dock? Woods? Confessional?"
"Dock," Ripper decided. "One hour. Be there or be square."
Everyone headed out to the confessional. One by one, the Trout cast their votes. Millie went after Damien.
"I'm voting for Scary Girl," she said as she wrote down the name. As quietly as possible (so that her teammates outside wouldn't overhear) she explained herself: "Ripper has a mean streak, yeah, but he's interesting! I need to keep him around for my research."
Her mind drifted to the wildflower bouquet, but she kept her mouth shut about that. The confessional didn't need to know how that had affected her opinion. She cast her vote, then stepped outside to let Priya take a turn.
Once everyone had voted, Millie and her six remaining teammates made their way to the campground. Each step increased Millie's anxiety. If her calculations were correct, Scary Girl would be going home. But what if Ripper did get eliminated? He was walking ahead of the group, so she couldn't analyze his expression. Was he feeling just as nervous as she was?
The worry turned out to be for nothing: Scary Girl lost, cursed them all, and skipped away, never to be seen again. Ripper farted on his marshmallow and then ate it. Damien threw up. Millie tried to relax, but the knot in her stomach wouldn't dissolve.
"I'm… confused." Priya's brow was furrowed. "If you, me, and Scary Girl voted for Ripper, then how—"
Millie interrupted. "Who knows what Scary Girl did? I mean, she did just threaten all of us."
She continued to console Priya on the way back to camp. They'd send Ripper home next. Scary Girl had been a liability; now they'd keep winning challenges. They were still in the running for a million dollars.
The two of them had the cabin to themselves now. Millie and Priya chatted until Priya declared it was time for bed. Millie told her she was going on a late-night stroll by herself, and then she walked out the door.
She ran into Ripper on the porch.
"Woah!" he said. "Didn't expect to see you here!"
"We sleep in the same cabin," Millie deadpanned.
"Uh, I know, but." Ripper suddenly looked uncomfortable, like he was holding in a fart (and Millie was confident that he would never, ever hold in a fart).
"Do you need help walking down the stairs?" he blurted out.
Millie wasn't sure if that was super sexist or super flattering. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. "I don't need help, but it's nice of you to offer."
"Cool, cool," Ripper said.
They set off for the dock. The evening was chilly, and Millie was glad she'd kept her jacket on instead of changing into her pajamas.
"So why does this warrant such a formal meeting?" Millie asked. "Is there a surprise or something?"
"I'm full of surprises. Surprise smells, mostly."
"Ew." Millie pinched the bridge of her nose, just in case he decided to demonstrate.
Ripper chuckled awkwardly. "Nah, it's not that. I just had one last idea about how to respect women."
"So after only one afternoon, you've exhausted your repertoire?" Millie teased. "Holding doors, picking flowers, and handing out plates?"
"Don't forget the fact that I haven't called you the N-E-R-D word all day!"
"Yeah, I guess that's true. That must have been a hard sacrifice for you."
"You have no idea!" Ripper sighed, as if admitting this fact was a load off his shoulders. "Once my brothers and I invented No Mom March, where we weren't allowed to make 'your mom' jokes during the entire month of March. This is just as hard as that was!"
"What was the rationale behind No Mom March?"
"Anytime one of us slipped up, the other three got to beat him up." Ripper smiled. Apparently, this was a happy memory for him.
I wish I had my notebook on me.
They reached the end of the dock and sat so that their legs dangled over the water. With the lake stretched out before her, calming reflecting the moonlight, Millie could almost about the intensity and the drama of the competition.
"Okay, so—"
Ripper was speaking, and so Millie looked over. Immediately, her blood ran cold. In his hands was her most prized possession.
"You wrote in my notebook?"
"In the very back." He didn't sound very concerned.
"That's not yours to read! Give it back!" A wave of terror crashed over her. Was this his true intention, to blackmail her? How had he reacted when he'd seen all that she'd written about him?
She lunged for the notebook, but Ripper braced one arm against her, pushing her away before she clawed his face off.
"I didn't read it, Millie. Reading's for ner—uh, reading isn't my favorite hobby. I saw you left it on the porch earlier, and I needed some paper so I could write romantic poetry."
Her brain short-circuited. "Romantic poetry?"
"Yeah! Girls like that stuff, right? I mean, earlier you said that different girls like different things, but you like writing things, and poetry involves writing junk."
"Oh." Millie was feeling a lot of conflicting emotions. More importantly, she was very aware of the fact Ripper was still holding her arm. She leaned back, breaking the contact.
"So you wrote romantic poetry," she repeated.
"Ugh, just regular poetry! Don't make it weird! I'm trying to prove how good I am at respecting women!"
"Okay, okay!" Millie held her hands up. "Just pretend I didn't say anything!"
Ripper cleared his throat—an action that took him three times longer to perform than the average person—and began to read:
"Roses are red
Boogers are green
Millie's the funniest nerd
That I've ever seen."
You know that old saying about how it's the thought that counts? That was definitely the case right now. It was the cruddiest poem in the world, but he'd taken the time to write it? For her?
Get a grip, Millie. Why are your standards so low? But logic couldn't stop the burning blush on her face. "You called me a nerd!"
"It was a compliment this time!" Ripper argued. "And I couldn't decide between 'prettiest' or 'coolest' or 'funniest,' so I hope that's respectful enough."
"Wow," Millie said. "I need a minute."
He handed the notebook back, and she stared at the page. Although poorly illuminated even with the moonlight, she could make out the sections where he'd crossed out and rewritten his four-verse poem.
You can't like him, she told herself. You just can't. Crushing on a research subject was just plain unethical. Also, he stood for everything she resented about her generation: low ambition, lack of manners, and a deficiency of critical thinking skills.
But he'd given her flowers and written her a poem. Even if it was just for a self-imposed challenge, those things were sweet, in their own way.
One thing's for sure: she was not telling Priya about any of this.
Ripper coughed into his hand. "Soooo…"
She snapped back to reality. "You win, Ripper. You respected women for a whole afternoon. I'm impressed."
"Woo hoo!" Ripper hopped up and immediately performed his victory floss. "I'm the best! Boys rule! Girls drool!"
Millie wished there was a camera around so she could look into the camera like she was in a sitcom. This was the person she was attracted to? Seriously?
Ripper noticed that she was unamused and stopped dancing. "I mean, uh, you won too, I guess. You haven't been writing in the nerdbook all day."
"I guess both of us can do anything we put our minds to." Millie stood up. "We should head back to the cabins now." She didn't trust herself to be alone with him in the moonlight any longer.
They talked on their way back to the cabins—mostly about their expectations for tomorrow's challenge. When they reached the porch, Millie hesitated.
"Well, good night," she said.
"Hasta la mañana, nerd." Ripper stuck his tongue out.
Well, that was that.
After she'd changed into her pajamas, Millie borrowed a flashlight from Priya's bag and spent the next half hour under the covers, writing down all the things she'd learned today.