I Don’t Wanna Be Famous
A Total Drama SI story
Disclaimer: Total Drama belongs to Fresh TV Inc. I’m simply borrowing it to tell some stories.
Author’s Notes: Is this my longest chapter yet? Could be! It’s definitely up there.
Not entirely happy with how I portrayed the bike race, but then, I was never good at that sort of thing…
Chapter 18: Karmic Gymnastics on a Bicycle
Chris stood on the dock as he addressed the camera.
“Previously, on Total Drama Island…”
Clips began rolling, showing scenes from the previous episode.
“In a challenge of hide-and-seek, the campers had to avoid capture by Chef ‘It’, or join his guerrilla tactics to tag fellow campers.
“Some had weak hiding spots, while others won invincibility. Meanwhile, Heather tricked Courtney into getting Duncan to, uh, ‘convince’ DJ and a surprisingly compliant Trent to join forces and vote off Gwen.
“Man, I did not see that coming, and neither did she!
“Will Heather find out why Jason helped her? Will DJ find himself crushed under the weight of his conscience? Will I be stuck hosting reality TV for the rest of my life?
“Find out on this episode of Total. Drama. Island!”
“Why did you help me?” Heather asked. It was still evening, and she – along with the object of her query – was at the dock, having just seen off Gwen as the Goth girl left on the Boat of Losers.
Jason gave Heather a puzzled look. “With what?”
“With the challenge!” she snapped. What else could she possibly have been asking about?! “Why did you tell me DJ was on the roof?”
The boy nodded slowly. “Oh. I felt like it, I guess.”
“You felt like-” The Asian girl cut herself off. She would not let him get to her. Not this time. She shot the boy a suspicious look. “What’s your angle?”
“Which one? I got lots of angles.” He held his right arm straight out and gave it a thorough look as a slight, amused smile tugged at his lips. “This one’s about ninety degrees, I’d say.”
Heather clenched her fingers, her hands curling into tight fists. She breathed in and out in an effort to calm herself. Then, “Aren’t you ever serious about anything?!”
Jason nodded again as he lowered his arm. “Yeah, but I try not to be. Life’s less stressful that way, y’know?”
The Asian girl let out a frustrated noise. “Fine, don’t tell me. Just know I’m watching you.”
“Alright, but remember: my eyes are up here. These are my guns, and this is my ass, but my eyes are-”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” she protested, even as she quietly hoped that the relative darkness of the evening kept the heat she felt rising in her cheeks from being visibly noticeable.
If he did notice, the boy gave no sign, instead simply shrugging and smirking. “Sure it wasn’t.”
Heather growled, but to her dismay her attempt at intimidation was met with an amused chuckle.
“Well, I gotta go,” Jason said after a moment and then turned around. “See ya later.”
The Asian girl raised her hand as if to grab his shoulder, but stopped halfway. She watched quietly as he walked away toward the camp, leaving her alone by the dock. Once he was out of sight, she kicked the ground in frustration.
Why couldn’t she figure out what he was thinking?!
I spent much of the night lying awake in bed or pacing around, and I was grateful, not for the first time, that I had a trailer to call my own. I had a habit of pacing around in the dark when I was thinking, and since I was in my trailer I could do so without waking anyone.
Plus, you know, this way I didn’t have to explain my sudden insomnia to anyone, either.
I was thinking about lots of things, as was so often the case for me, my mind awhirl with a million thoughts. Most, however, revolved around two things: Gwen, and my presence in this world.
I had assumed from the get-go that ROB would send me home as soon as the competition was over with. Hence, there would be little reason to try to form any kind of lasting relationship with the other people on the island. However… he’d never actually said anything about it. Like, at all. He basically just told me he was going to put me on a reality show and then tossed me into another universe.
But if my original assumption was correct… then that meant any sort of romantic development with Gwen – or anyone, really – was doomed to end in tears, metaphorically if not literally. With that in mind, wouldn’t it be better to just try and let the girl down easy as quickly as possible? But then, how could I? We’d been living at the same summer camp for over six weeks, now, but at the moment I couldn’t even talk to her.
And the kiss? That had come out of left field. Sure, I’d gotten some pretty serious hints she found me attractive, but I just assumed that, since I hadn’t really acted on it, she would have dropped it. Only… she didn’t. Apparently. And then she kissed me in front of however many viewers the show had. Or would have. Come to think of it, was the show even airing? Or did the producers want to film the whole thing before putting anything on air?
Eh, where was I? Oh, right, the kiss. That was surprising. Not unpleasant, though… and I do like her personality. Plus, I, uh, kinda do have a thing for Goths. The ones that don’t smoke or have a bunch of piercings everywhere, anyway.
Oh, yeah, and then there was the age thing… Sure, ROB had reduced me to about the same age as her, physically, but experientally – or whatever – I was… what? Almost twenty years her senior?
Okay, so I didn’t actually care much about chronological age – outside of the obvious legal stuff, of course – but cared far more about physical and mental age than anything. Hell, I’d met teenagers in the past who were more mentally mature than most senior citizens, and I’d met senior citizens who were less mature than most teenagers. So, yeah, chronological age basically meant nothing on its own, as far as my own experience was concerned. Doubly so because I’d never let such things hinder my interactions with others; I judged everyone individually by their actions, not just based on whatever age or race or gender they happened to belong to. Everyone deserved a chance. Well, except romantically; alas, as much as it might have made my life easier if it were otherwise – as ironic as some people would find that statement had they been able to somehow peer into my mind, like if I was just some character in a story or something – I was firmly straight. And I generally preferred women who were at least physically in their early to mid twenties. Of course, that was before I got turned back into a teenager, and…
… Hang on a second. What’s the age of consent in Canada? Am I technically jailbait, now? Do they have close-in-age exemptions? Does it vary by province, like it does with states in the U.S.? Where the hell am I, anyway?
I groaned. I was getting sidetracked again. Where was I? Something about Goths? Oh, yeah, Gwen. She did have some nice hips on her, didn’t she? And she was fun to talk to. Less intellectually closed-minded than most. Had a pretty good head on her shoulders, even if she could be a bit naive at times.
Wait, no. That wasn’t it. I was thinking about… Age? No, that came after. Something about ROB…
And so my thoughts continued to whirl throughout the night.
The next day, I awoke with the sun, as usual. As somewhat less than usual, I awoke feeling sleepy, but seeing as how I likely wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep I got up anyway.
After doing my morning business, I headed for the woods, as I always did. This time, however, I planned on doing more than just walking around and working out.
I made my way through the woods, headed for a place where there were no stationary cameras: the overlook where I’d taken Gwen, weeks earlier. I didn’t need to scale the cliffside or anything, either, as there was nobody following me; the interns had long since given up on trying to follow me on my sojourns.
Upon reaching the overlook, I spent a moment looking out across the island. It wasn’t the highest point on the island – the even taller mountain where we’d jumped off on the very first day held that particular honor – but it was still high up, and presented a gorgeous view of Wawanakwa, the lake, the nearby islands, and even some distant mountains.
Once I finished taking it all in, I stepped away from the edge of the cliff and walked up the side of the mountain. I put my backpack down on the ground and leaned my back against the rock and closed my eyes. After a moment spent collecting my thoughts, I spoke.
“Yo, ROB. You there?”
There was silence, but for the wind and some birds chirping. I tried again.
“I need to talk to you about something.”
I sensed rather than heard movement nearby and opened my eyes and looked sharply to the side, only to blink in surprise and step back upon seeing not the suit-wearing man I expected, but instead a… chalk drawing, for lack of a better description, on the rock I’d been leaning against a moment before. The lines were mustard yellow – because of course they were – and formed the rough shape of a stick figure wearing a solid yellow suit. And it was moving, the lines distorting and reforming of their own volition. It was rather freaky to watch.
“Talk away,” the stick figure said. The voice was oddly distorted, perhaps the result of going from 2D to 3D… which made no sense whatsoever, when I thought about it, as sound waves always propagated in three dimensions. But whatever the exact mechanics involved, it sounded rather like he was talking with his face pressed up against a flat surface while I was standing a ways behind him and hearing his words partially distorted by the echo.
Told you it made no sense.
I spent a moment staring at the smiling stick figure before I shook my head and decided to hell with it. I had seen plenty of weird things since all this started, so what was one more?
“I’m sure you know what’s been going on here,” I said, fixing the stick figure’s gaze… or so I thought. It was hard to say for sure, what with the guy being two-dimensional and mostly expressionless and all.
The stick figure nodded. “Of course. I’m watching everything with great interest. As will the viewers once the show goes on air.”
Ah, so they are filming everything before putting in on air, huh? I thought so! “Then you probably know what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Another nod. “Gwen, yes?”
“Right. Kind of. First of all: are you sending me home when this is over?”
“That was the original plan, yes,” the stick figure confirmed. “But plans can always be altered, as I’m sure you’re aware. And I consider myself a very… flexible ROB.”
As the stick figure spoke it put its legs behind its head and rolled around in a wide circle on the rock face before untangling itself and standing back up. I watched his shenanigans impassively.
“… Right. So what you’re saying is-”
“If you want to pursue a relationship or three, I won’t stop you,” the stick figure interrupted me, having either anticipated my words or flat out read my mind. Maybe both. “And I won’t callously toss you out of the world, either. Unless you want me to, of course.”
“So… I get to choose my own destiny, kinda thing?”
“More or less. I did bring you here for the sake of entertainment… and you’ve been doing quite well in that regard, so I’m feeling generous. What happens after we’re done is up to you. Go home. Stay. Player’s choice.”
I hummed thoughtfully. It would be an understatement to say I felt suspicious… but then, most of said suspicion stemmed from a combination of what I’d read in ROB stories and my own personal brand of paranoia. This ROB – despite being a bit of an ass – hadn’t done anything particularly malicious to me as far as I was aware. Setting aside selling me out for the phobia challenge, anyway. Maybe…?
I crossed my arms over my chest and nodded. “All right, I’ll trust you. For now.”
The stick figure laughed, its mouth growing comically wide as its laughter reverberated. “So suspicious! Fine, let’s shake on it.”
I am proud to say my only reaction was to raise one eyebrow when the stick figure’s right arm came loose from the rock and pointed toward me. It was still two-dimensional, and became invisible at the right – or perhaps wrong – angle, but it was definitely no longer stuck to the rock. I gingerly took it – taking particular care to avoid the point and the edges, just in case – and shook it.
“See you around, my little butterfly,” the stick figure said once I let go, and spontaneously transformed into a yellow butterfly which fully detached itself from the rock and flew away, leaving me alone on the lookout. I watched it until it flew far enough away that I could see it no longer.
Well. That was weird.
“Oh, man. Oh, man.”
DJ was not having a good day. He’d spent most of breakfast sneaking glances at Jason and not eating. His stomach was full of butterflies, and not in a good way; he felt about ready to hurl, and could barely force himself to eat a bite, and so had filled up on water, instead. Still, he’d made it through breakfast, and the butterflies calmed down slightly once he no longer had to be in the same room as the boy whose trust he’d betrayed.
Of course, DJ wasn’t the only one guilty of betrayal: Duncan and Trent were just as guilty as he was, even if they didn’t show it at all. Well, Duncan was; to be fair, Trent hadn’t really been friendly with Jason at any point… but it had still been a pretty crappy thing, to vote off Gwen the way he did. Wasn’t Trent supposed to be in love with her, or something?
What kind of guy votes off his crush, huh? That’s stone-cold, man…
DJ’s eyes drifted across the camp. Several campers had already disappeared from sight by going into the other buildings besides the main lodge or by leaving the camp entirely. Some, however, hung around, Trent among them. The young musician sat on the porch outside the boys’ cabin and looked busy tuning his guitar.
DJ swallowed. He needed to talk to someone, anyone… And Trent knew the story already. Besides, he had some questions for the guy.
“Hey, Trent,” DJ greeted the other boy as he approached him.
Trent looked up from his guitar, nodded, and turned his attention back to his task. “What’s up, DJ?”
“Uh, yeah, what’s up,” DJ said, nervously scratching at the back of his own neck. “I, uh… sorta wanted to talk to you about somethin’.”
The other boy shrugged. “Go ahead, man. I’m not going anywhere.”
Gathering his courage, DJ inhaled and sat down next to the other boy. “Okay, look: about the vote the other day-”
“Okay, no, I’m going to stop you right there,” Trent said suddenly, holding up a hand in a placating gesture. “I don’t regret what I did one bit, and there’s nothing you can say to change how I feel on the matter. I voted off Gwen because it was the only way to get her out of Jason’s clutches, okay? People don’t get what a horrible manipulator he is, but I do!”
DJ opened his mouth, but no words came out. “Uhhh…”
“And don’t give me that ‘But Trent, how could you vote off the girl you’re crushing on?’. Do you think it was easy for me?! I felt horrible after, but it was the only way!”
“Um-”
“But you know what? I’m glad I did it! At least this way I don’t have to see Gwen sneaking into Jason’s trailer three times a day!”
“But-”
“And no, I didn’t do it just because I’m jealous! I did it because of love, okay? I did it because I want to protect Gwen no matter what, even if she doesn’t realize she’s in danger! You understand me, right?”
“I’m not-”
“And yeah, sure, it’s kinda eating me up inside, remembering the look on her face when she didn’t get the last marshmallow… But you know what’s even worse? The way she kissed Jason before leaving! What the heck was that all about, huh? That should have been me getting a kiss, not that jerk!”
“I don’t-”
“Yeah, what I did was right. Jason’s a villain, and someone has to stop him. And that someone is me! Every story needs a hero, right? And if he’s-”
“Shut up, already! Dude, you are whack!” DJ snapped, his patience finally worn thin. He stood up and scowled at Trent, who looked back up at him with surprise written all over his face. “I came to you because I wanted to talk to you, maybe see if I could get a second perspective on things, ‘cause I felt all confused, but now I know exactly what I have to do! So, yeah, thanks for that!”
With those words, the Jamaican boy turned his back on Trent and stomped away.
“The heck was that about? I’ve never seen DJ snap like that before,” Trent said as he sat in the confessional. He had his guitar on his lap and his face wore a bewildered expression. “Like, all I did was explain why I did what I did. Why’d he take it so hard? And what was that about being confused…?”
The young musician shook his head and gently strummed the strings on his guitar.
“The guy’s not cut out for this kind of competition. He’s probably just stressed. Right?”
Following my brief sojourn to the overlook, I returned to camp in time for breakfast. After that, I decided to try and get some rest, and so I went and had a lie-down in one of the beach chairs over on the dock. It wasn’t long before my rest was interrupted by heavy footsteps sending vibrations reverberating through the wooden planks beneath me. When a shadow fell on me and didn’t go away, I sighed and opened my eyes to see the unmistakable form of DJ standing before me, blocking out the sun.
“What up, DJ?” I asked, peering up at the boy. I couldn’t see his face very well with the sun behind him, but I figured I’d still make an effort to look him in the eye. “Something on your mind?”
“Yeah.”
I blinked. The boy’s voice sounded… gravelly, kinda? Like he was about to cry?
Suddenly, DJ sank to his knees and grabbed my right hand, burying it within his own, massive hands. Now that he was out of the sun I could see his face clearly, and I realized his eyes were red and he had tears streaming down his puffy cheeks. He stared at me for a long moment, his lower lip quivering, before his stoic facade finally broke with a wail.
“I’m soooooooooorrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-!”
“Well, well, well. That was… illuminating. And loud.”
Jason sat in the confessional, one foot on the floor while the other was on the seat, his arms around his knee as he looked at the camera. There was a calculating expression on his face.
“To think Trent would stoop so low as to vote off Gwen. That really surprised me. Guess he’s the kind of guy who can’t take a ‘no’, huh? At least DJ had the balls to come clean about it.”
Jason leaned back and looked up at the ceiling, his expression turning thoughtful.
“And then there’s Duncan…”
“Oh, crap. Oh, crap. Oh, crap!”
Duncan sat in the confessional, hunched over, with his arms wrapped around his head. He peered up at the camera, his face half-hidden by his arms.
“Everyone saw that. Everyone HEARD that! I’m dead. I am SO dead!”
The normally confident, even bold, boy sounded absolutely terrified.
“You don’t know, man! You don’t know what happened on Boney Island! But I do!”
Duncan’s arms slipped down to his sides as he hugged himself. He visibly shook.
“I am so fucking dead!”
“DJ breaking down and ‘confessing’ to Jason? No big.”
Heather casually leaned back as she sat in the confessional. She had a slight smirk on her face as she looked at the camera.
“As far as that guy knows, only Duncan and Trent were in on it, so they’re the ones in Jason’s cross-hairs. I’m perfectly safe.
“This whole thing actually worked out better than I’d hoped… I was planning on pinning everything on those idiots anyway if it came to that, but this way I don’t have to lift a finger.”
The Asian girl laughed gleefully.
Shortly after breakfast the next day, there was a squeal of feedback as the camp’s PA system came online and Chris’s cheerful voice echoed across the camp.
“Morning, campers! Your next challenge awaits you at the arts-and-crafts center.”
Within minutes of this announcement, we all gathered outside the small building that made up the arts-and-crafts center. It wasn’t much – barely a shed, really – but apparently it was to be integral to the day’s challenge.
Chris gave us his trademark grin. “Welcome to the arts-and-crafts center!“
Eva snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. “More like the arts-and-crap center.”
The host’s smile didn’t waver. “Yeah, it used to be an outhouse, but now it's where Chef parks his road hog.”
He kicked in the door – which fell clean off its hinges, a testament to just how deteriorated they were – to reveal the interior. It was a small workshop, and in its center was a rather impressive-looking red motorbike with flame decals.
“Which brings us to your challenge: building your own wheels!” Chris said once the guys’ impressed noises died down.
“Oh, awesome!” Trent exclaimed.
“You'll find all the parts you need in our bike depot,” the host continued. As he spoke, he gestured toward a pile of scrap next to the shed. Looking closer, it appeared to be composed mostly of bicycle parts along with a random assortment of metal pieces and wood bits.
“So… we’re building bikes from scratch?” I asked, arching an eyebrow at Chris, who nodded.
“Right on. As soon as you collect the basics, you’re free to trick them out however you want with props from the arts-and-crafts center.” While he spoke, the host climbed onto his ATV, which was conveniently parked next to the shed. He revved the engine and started to drive away. “Best design wins! Oh, and to prove I’m a nice guy, I’m even throwing in a bike manual.”
Heather caught the book, but quickly tossed it back into the air with a cry of, “Eww, it’s furry!”
This time, I caught the book, idly noting the mold covering parts of the cover. “Yoink!”
“Hey, that’s ours!” the Asian girl protested, but I simply snorted at her.
“If you can’t stand the mold, stay outta the… uh… I dunno, Spengler’s lab?”
Heather gave me a nonplussed look. “What?”
“You know, in Ghostbusters? Egon collected molds and spores and shit?” I looked around, but received nothing but blank looks. “No? Ah, you damned kids and your music. Book’s mine, so bite me.”
“Okay, I’ve never built a bike before,” Jason admitted in the confessional. “But I’ve changed the tires, the wheels, and the chain before… so as long as I get a whole frame, how hard can it really be? Besides, I got the bike manual.”
I proceeded to flip my way through the bike manual, paying especial attention to the stuff I didn’t already know. Much as I’d expected, it wasn’t that hard… as long as I had a whole frame to use as a base for everything else.
Unfortunately, by the time I had checked and double-checked everything to make sure I knew what I was doing, I found that the pile of bike parts and non-bike parts had shrunk considerably. I dug through it as best I could, but couldn’t find compatible parts to build a whole frame.
“Well, fuck. How the hell am I supposed to build a bike with this?” I muttered to no one in particular as I surveyed the pile of parts I’d gathered. I had the wheels, the tires, the pedals, the stem and about half the frame, but I was completely missing the bottom bracket and cranks, not to mention the seat stay and fork. And those were the hardest parts to build from scratch!
“Woo-hoo! Hey, Jason, come with me, ‘kay? I’ve already built my bike!”
Indeed, as I turned I saw that Izzy had already finished building her bike. Not only that, she seemed to have built it almost entirely from non-bike parts, somehow.
“How the hell did you build that so fast?” I asked, feeling more than a bit nonplussed. Looking the bike over, it looked like everything was mechanically sound… though I did have my doubts about the integrity of some of the parts. The top tube was a freaking hockey stick, for crying out loud!
“Oh, my brother was a mechanic before he got run over and developed a fear of motor vehicles. Come on! Let's take it for a test-drive! Woo-hoo!”
Well, couldn’t fault her enthusiasm, at least. I looked from Izzy’s bike to the sorry pile of parts behind me, then back to her. “Yeah, alright. Why not?”
In the confessional, Jason shrugged. “Hey, she’s crazy, but she’s the fun kind of crazy. Plus, she’s obviously got more mechanical expertise than I do. And it’s not like Chris said we couldn’t share bikes or anything. So I thought, ‘what could go wrong?’”
Izzy slid backward as I neared the bike, obviously intending me to sit in front.
Ahhh, so that’s it. She wants me to do the labor, huh? That’s fine.
I climbed onto the bike and tested it for balance. It seemed fine, but you never knew. I looked over my shoulder at the redhead, who gave me a huge grin.
“Sweet! Your extra weight will totally help out with our speed!”
I blinked, not having expected a comment like that. “Uh, well, if we’re going downhill, I suppose-”
“Yeah! Let’s go!” Izzy stomped down on the pedals.
“Whoa, wait, I thought I was pedaling! Hey, where are you- Slope! Slope, slope, slope, SLOPE!”
Jason tilted his head thoughtfully as he looked at the confessional’s ceiling. In the process, drops of water fell from his hair. “Is there such a thing as retroactively jinxing yourself?”
A while later, Chris had gathered everyone back at the arts-and-crafts center.
“Well, campers, we gave you the parts. Let's see what you came up with,” Chris said and walked up to the first contestant: Heather. “Excellent aerodynamics, Heather.”
The Asian girl’s bike was made mostly from improvised parts, and looked fairly bog standard as far as improvised, built-from-scratch bikes went, though with the addition of a bag and what looked like electrical parts under the top tube.
“It only weighs two ounces,” she proclaimed proudly.
“Like your brain,” Eva said with a derisive snort.
“Get bent, Gym Girl,” Heather shot back.
“Heavy, yet practical,” Chris said, inspecting the other girl’s bike. It, too, was mostly improvised, but used much thicker pieces and looked to be designed vaguely like a spinning bicycle you might see at a gym. “Well done.”
Next was Duncan. “Wicked Mad Max mobile, dude!”
The delinquent’s bike was designed somewhat closer to an actual motorbike – sans the motor, alas – and featured a carved skull at the front, beneath the handlebars. It conspicuously lacked pedals.
Lindsay came next. And her bike was… interesting.
“Go ahead, ring her bell,” the blonde said, indicating the small bicycle bell strapped to the handlebar of her bike, which also featured a stuffed horse toy head at the front and a broom at the back.
Chris obliged, and the bell produced a fairly bog standard ringing sound. He shot the girl a questioning look.
“The real bike has sound effects like this,” she said, then proceeded to poorly imitate a neighing horse.
“Okay, then,” the host said and continued on to the next contestant: Courtney.
“My bike is simple and elegant,” the Hispanic girl declared, gesturing proudly at her bike, which didn’t look all that dissimilar from Heather’s, except, “It also features additional brakes and extra reflectors in case you go bicycling at night.”
“This is an island,” Chris pointed out. “In the middle of nowhere. There are no cars here. Or roads, really. And the race is in daytime.”
Courtney’s face flushed. “Well, yeah, but-”
“Moving on,” Chris said simply and walked past her to DJ. “Dude. Seriously? This is lame.”
Indeed, not only did DJ’s bike have training wheels of all things, but the youth himself was decked out in pillows strapped to various parts of his anatomy, oven mitts on his hands, and his head was covered in a cheap knightly helm replica complete with a plume. There was a metallic squeak as the boy hung his head in shame.
Chris shook his head in disappointment and walked up to Trent, whose bike didn’t stand out much on its own, except for one, critical piece: the ornament at the front.
“I call her Gwen,” Trent said simply, smiling wistfully as he looked over at his bike, the front of which featured a poorly drawn picture of Gwen glued to the front of the handlebars.
“I see,” Chris said, deciding not to comment further. He looked past the boy, paused, and looked around. Hey, where’s Izzy and Jason?”
Izzy had gathered a lot of momentum going down that slope, and hadn’t bothered even trying to slow down as we raced across the island. The only reason I didn’t try to snag control of the pedals away from her was because I harbored a very real fear that the momentary loss of control would cause us to slam into one of the many trees that Izzy had – surprisingly – expertly avoided up until now. Exactly how she was able to do that considering both the speed and the fact that my body was no doubt blocking most of her forward view, I had no idea.
Chris shrugged. “Oh, well, their loss, 'cause this is where it gets good. We're gonna race these babies… hard!”
Heather let out a triumphant laugh. “Ha! Awesome, because my bike is built for speed. Right, Lindsay?
The blonde nodded enthusiastically. “Totally!”
Chris grinned. “Yeah, unfortunately, you won't be riding it, Heather. You'll be switching bikes. Yeah, cruel twist, huh? Alrighty, then. See you at the beach.”
Exactly what Jason and Izzy were up to, Heather had no idea. All she knew was that with Jason out of the way, the race would be all that much easier for her to win, and with it, invincibility.
Or it would have been, if not for Chris’s idiotic rule stating they had to switch bikes. What use was a hidden motor stolen from Chef’s stealthily dismantled motorbike if she wasn’t the one riding the bike it was attached to?!
Once they had all gathered at the beach, Chris addressed them from atop his ATV. There was an old, yellow bike helmet upside down in his hand.
“Okay, here's how it works: everyone picks a name out of the helmet to see whose bike you're riding. If your bike makes it across the finish line, then you get to ride it in the final round for invincibility.”
One by one, the campers drew a slip of paper from the helmet with a name. To her chagrin, Heather had to ride DJ’s safety bike – the one with the training wheels. She crumpled the paper in her grip at the same time as Lindsay walked up to her.
“Hey, lookie, I got your bike!”
Heather’s eyes widened and she quickly pulled the blonde aside. “Excellent. If you cross the finish line on my bike, then I get to ride for invincibility. So, if it looks like you're losing, just press the red button.”
Before Lindsay could reply, the host spoke up once more.
“Now, before we start, has anyone seen Jason or Izzy?“
We went down another – thankfully smaller – slope and up the other side… only the other side ended abruptly in an alarmingly deep gorge. For what felt like several seconds we sailed upward into the air.
But alas, our accumulated momentum could only last for so long, and as our ascent slowed, I got a good, long look at the gorge and the intimidating pile of rocks at the bottom. By this point feeling rather resigned to whatever pain was coming my way, there was only one thing I could think to say.
“Oh, gravity… thou art a heartless bitch.”
Izzy, meanwhile, offered her own commentary by way of laughing hysterically the whole way down.
Once everyone was lined up on the beach before the white line painted over the sand, Chris, his arm held straight up, spoke.
“Okay, racers! On your marks, get set... paramedics on standby... and drag!”
The host threw his arm down and the campers were off. Or most of them were, anyway.
“Hey, where are the pedals on this thing?!” Courtney asked in exasperation as she looked around her – or rather, Duncan’s – bike. Indeed, the design completely lacked pedals.
Heather, for her part, was also having trouble. While her – that was, DJ’s – bike didn’t lack pedals, it turned out almost impossible to actually pedal the damn thing. No matter how hard she pushed down on the pedal, the bike refused to budge. Annoyed, the Asian girl got off and gave the bike a glare and then a kick for good measure.
Unfortunately, she forgot that she was wearing sandals, and stubbed her toe.
“Ow!”
Meanwhile, the race was on, with Chris watching as he rode alongside on his ATV.
At first, Duncan was in the lead, riding Lindsay’s horse-head-adorned bike. “Okay, this is messed up… but yee-hawww! This is one booming ride!”
“I know, right?” Lindsay agreed as she pedaled past him on Heather’s bike, taking the lead.
“Out of the way, scumbag!” Eva exclaimed as she, too, rode past Duncan. She was on Courtney’s bike, and while it looked overly decked-out in reflectors there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with the mechanical aspect of it, and so Eva’s powerful thighs, conditioned by what was no doubt hundreds of hours of spinning at the gym, allowed her to race on past Lindsay and take the lead.
Further back, DJ was having trouble, riding Trent’s bike, “Gwen”. Not because of the bike itself so much as his own rather excessive protective gear; oven mitts weren’t made for gripping handlebars, and the pillows strapped to his thighs slammed into the frame every time he raised his knees while pedaling. It was a bumpy ride.
“Smooth ride, huh?” Trent asked as he approached from behind, riding Eva’s spinner-like bike. The boy was visibly sweating as he stood up to pedal; as expected of a bike made by Eva, it required a lot of power to get moving.
“Uh, yeah, sure,” DJ agreed halfheartedly, doing his best to concentrate on his riding.
“Hey, wait, are you saying Gwen’s not a good ride?” Trent asked, an edge to his voice.
“Ah good what?!” Distracted by the odd and hopefully unintentional turn of phrase, DJ actually looked back over his shoulder at the other boy… and rode “Gwen” right into an inconspicuous piece of wood lying in the sand. He rode over one side of the length of wood with his front wheel, causing the other side to stick upward out of the sand – at an angle perfect for getting it caught in the spokes of his back wheel.
The spectacle of seeing DJ lose control of his bike, fall, and then Trent slamming into it a split-second later was too good for Chris to ignore, and the host let out a hearty laugh at the sight. His laughter intensified when Heather, having decided to push her unruly bike forward, failed to react in time and likewise slammed right into the wreck.
Back at the starting line, Courtney was at her wits’ end, having tried absolutely everything to get Duncan’s bike moving. She was even considering getting off and just pushing it, like Heather had done with DJ’s bike.
However, when her eyes landed on the carved skull serving as a hood ornament, a flash of inspiration struck her. She grabbed the ornament and pulled.
To her delight, there was a revving noise as an engine – cleverly built into the frame of the bike – roared to life, awakened by her pulling taut the thin cord fastened to the underside of the skull ornament.
Unfortunately, the Hispanic girl had never ridden a motorbike before – improvised or not – and quickly careened out of control as the bike sped down the beach. It was only with the greatest of effort – all while screaming her head off – that she was able to keep the bike from going straight into the lake.
When he heard a sudden, drawn-out scream, Chris looked back to see Courtney racing down the beach at breakneck speed, tearing up a huge cloud of sand behind her. For a brief moment as she rode past him and all the other campers still in the race, the host got a good demonstration of the Doppler Effect, courtesy of her high-pitched screaming. The Hispanic girl raced on, out of control, and cleared the finish line ahead of everyone else… then rode straight into the lake.
Not long after, Eva cleared the finish line as well, followed by Lindsay and then Duncan.
As Courtney surfaced from under the water and began swimming for the shore, Chris turned to address the campers.
“Ye-e-e-es! We have three awesome wipeouts by Heather, Trent and DJ. Four invincibility-race winners – Courtney’s safety-first ride, Heather’s speed machine, Lindsay’s Sunset Sally, and Duncan’s lethal weapon.”
Courtney climbed onto the beach, sputtering and spitting water. “Wha-what? Did I win?”
Chris laughed. “Awesome finish, Courtney! It’s time to head over to the TDI motocross.”
“Uhh, before that, can anyone help me drain the engine?” Duncan asked as he dragged his crashed bike back onto dry land.
Courtney whirled on the boy. “Help you? That thing of yours almost killed me!”
“Well excuse me, Princess!”
“I am not a princess!”
A while later, Heather and the other “finalists” – Lindsay, Courtney and Duncan – lined up at the starting line… to the newly-constructed motocross race track. As they waited, Chris rode up on his ATV, stopped, and turned to address them.
“Campers! Welcome to the... Moto… cross...Challenge...! Using your own bikes, you'll race the course, avoiding hidden pitfalls.” The host turned toward the motocross race track and called out, “Cue the deathtraps!
“There's dodging the land mines,” he continued, as several explosions were set off in succession, to Heather’s alarm.
“Maneuvering through the oil slick,” he added as a large spot of black oil was poured onto the track.
“And, finally, jumping the piranhas!” he finished as one intern lowered a large ham tied to the end of a rope into what looked like a moat in the middle of one section of the track. There was an alarming bubbling in the water before the rope snapped off.
Heather quietly gulped.
“Oh, and one more thing: first one to cross wins invincibility. Last one to cross gets voted off the island. No bonfire, do not pass go, do not collect a marshmallow.”
With the introduction over, Heather leaned over toward Lindsay. “Okay, so here’s our strategy: we have to stick together so that one of us wins the race. So you go first and clear a path through the mines.”
“Uh-uh,” Lindsay replied apprehensively.
“Then go through the oil slick, so I can see how to get through it.”
“O-okay…”
“If you make it through those two parts, then the third part is easy: just keep the piranhas busy while I sneak through.”
“Wait. Then you'll win, not me!”
Heather smirked. So the blonde wasn’t entirely devoid of brain function, after all. “Exactly!”
Lindsay still seemed to have some doubts, however. “You know, I was thinking it would be really fun if I won a challenge for myself for once.”
Heather barely kept herself from laughing at the ridiculous suggestion. “Yeah, that's a great idea in theory, but then who would come up with all the new strategies to get us through to the next week?”
“Um, right,” Lindsay said hesitantly. Then she smiled and nodded, like the good little stooge she was. “Okay!”
“Don’t worry,” Heather said reassuringly, deciding to toss the blonde a bone. “If the piranhas don’t eat you, then you’ll definitely be second, which means Courtney or Duncan gets voted off, and we make it through another bonfire ceremony.”
In the confessional, Lindsay smiled at the camera. “Heather is really smart. I'm lucky to have her as a friend.”
“I have no way of knowing if she'll come in second,” Heather said with a shrug in the confessional. “The only thing that's really important is that I come in first. Invincibility is everything. I don’t know where Jason got off to, but his absence is my opportunity!”
Heather closed her eyes and smiled. “I can almost taste the marshmallows. Can't you, Lindsay?”
The blonde licked her lips. “Mmm, yes!“
“Racers, take your position,” Chris spoke up then, announcing it was time for the race to start. Once everyone was ready, he continued, “Aaaaand go!”
They were off.
Courtney took an early lead, pedaling as if her life depended on it – and given all the booby traps, it very well might have – only to be sent hurtling through the air along with her bike when the ground underneath her exploded. She had hit one of the land mines. The Hispanic girl landed in a moaning heap at the edge of the track, her “safety bike” scattered around her in a hundred pieces.
Duncan took the lead next, using the pedals he’d been forced to install to replace the drowned engine on his bike. He swerved through the minefield, triggering several mines but managing to avoid getting knocked off the track by the explosions. The oil slick turned out to be his undoing, however, as the extra-wide tires on his ride failed to find purchase, and he skidded this way and that before finally falling, the oil covering his form.
Lindsay, who’d similarly managed to navigate the mine field through a combination of dumb luck and many of the mines having already been triggered, rode past the downed delinquent. The blonde let out a triumphant shout as she, to Heather’s utter amazement, rode past the oil slick reared up on the back wheel of her bike, the mop tied to the back of her bike wiping up the oil as she passed.
Not one to waste an opportunity, Heather – who had wisely stuck to the back of the pack, as part of her ingenious plan – rode through the wiped clean portion of the oil slick. At this rate, nothing could stop her!
Something stopped Lindsay, up ahead of her, though. Although the blonde managed to ride through the shallow piranha moat without incident, she got stuck trying to get back out of it.
Deciding not to risk the same fate, Heather pressed the button to activate her bike’s hidden engine. The wind whipped at her hair and pulled at her cheeks as she suddenly accelerated, but she managed to keep herself steady. Aiming straight for a low rise right before the moat, she pulled back on the handlebars and let her accumulated momentum carry her into the air.
Though she would not have admitted it if anyone had asked, Heather felt a mixed thrill of excitement and fear as she soared across the moat, clearing it to land – bouncing – right at the finish line. The impact almost caused her to lose her grip, but she remained steadfast, and barely managed to shut off her engine and swerve to a stop, her wheels digging ridges in the sand.
“And we have our winner!” Chris announced as he drove up on his ATV. “Heather!”
Yes! I won! Take that, Jason!
As the other campers walked up and groaned – no doubt jealous of Heather’s glorious victory – Lindsay ran up to her, having apparently managed to get out of the piranha moat unharmed. The blonde was of course exuberant and to Heather’s chagrin embraced her.
“Yay! You won! We did it! We’re safe!”
“That’s not exactly true, Lindsay,” Chris interjected. “Heather is safe because her bike crossed the finish line first, but since Duncan and Courtney wiped out and didn’t complete the race, they technically didn’t cross the line at all. Which makes you the last one to cross the line, which means… it’s Dock of Shame time, baby!”
To Heather’s relief, Lindsay let go of her to look at the host. “Okay, I am so confused.”
The Asian girl rolled her eyes. “It means I can't save you unless I give you my invincibility. But I can't do that; too risky.” She turned and began to walk away. “You understand.”
“But I won,” Lindsay protested and grabbed her wrist. “I even built your bike!”
Heather tore herself free and laughed nervously. “I don’t know what she’s talking about. You should just leave with your dignity intact. It will make you seem much more cuter in the instant replays.”
“But we were going to the final three together!”
“Guess we’re not,” Heather said simply.
“Aren’t you even sad?” Lindsay asked, her expression concerned. “We’re BFFs!”
“Yeah, for the contest,” Heather returned, crossing her arms over her chest. “I mean, it’s not like we’re gonna be best friends for life or anything.”
Lindsay covered her mouth with her hands and gasped. “I can't believe you just said that! But we pinkie-swore!” Then her expression hardened. “You mean… I’ve been helping you all this time, and you didn’t even like me?”
Heather gave the blonde a sidelong glance. “Uhhh, truth? Not really, no. What? We're not here to make friends, we're here to become celebrities, remember?”
“Ooh, that's cold, brah,” Duncan, still covered in pitch-black oil, interjected.
“Oh, like you're such a team player,” Heather shot back. “All you do is go around scaring the crap out of everyone. Well, except for Jason.”
“Hey, I’m not afraid of that- Uh, he’s not here, is he?” Duncan’s protest turned to a question as the delinquent looked around nervously.
Heather rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I have invincibility. No one can touch me.”
“This week,” Eva said ominously.
“You really are mean!” Lindsay exclaimed. “And all that bad stuff people say about you is true! Like how you're a two-faced, backstabbing, lying, little-”
What followed was a tirade of insults the sheer audacity of which could only be imagined by those who weren’t there.
“I always told them they were wrong,” Lindsay added, after finishing her parade of insults. “I stood up for you because I thought we were BFFs. But they’re right, you really are a two-faced, backstabbing, lying little-”
Heather’s eye twitched in irritation as the insult parade came around for a second go.
“And guess what? I don't wanna be BFFs anymore. I'd rather spend the day staring at Owen’s butt than shopping with you. And P.S.: your shoes are tacky!”
Heather gasped. The personal insults and curse words were one thing, but to insult her fashion sense?! She had a half a mind to-
“Yeah! You tell her, Blonde Girl!” Eva called out from the sidelines as the other campers laughed.
“Oh, go jump in the piranha pool,” Heather snapped and walked away.
“MOVE IT, PEOPLE!”
The sudden shout made Heather stop and turn, just in time to see Jason and Izzy – both riding the same bike, for some reason – come careening off a nearby cliff and land in the lake with a loud splash.
Where the heck had they been?
“Thanks for all your support, Kelsey,” Lindsay said a while later as she walked onto the Dock of Shame, dragging her luggage behind her. The other campers were lined up waiting for her.
“It’s Courtney,” Courtney corrected her absently.
Lindsay turned to the next girl in line. “And I love you, Ava!”
“Don’t touch me,” the gym girl said in a warning tone.
“Kick Heather’s butt for me, okay?”
“Oh, that I can do,” Eva said, smirking evilly.
Lindsay nodded at Izzy and walked past her to the guys – Duncan, DJ, Trent and Jason.
“Bye guys. See you at the finale!”
“Take care, Blondie,” Jason said with a slight smile and a nod.
Finally, it was the glaring Heather’s turn. Lindsay smiled. “Good luck, Heather. I hope you get everything your karma owes you.”
The Asian girl didn’t reply, and so Lindsay looked to the Boat of Losers. “Okay. I’m ready,” she said and walked up the gangplank and onto the boat.
Her time at Wawanakwa was at an end.
“Wait a minute!” Heather exclaimed as she sat in the confessional. “Jason and Izzy showed up exactly when the challenge was over. What’s that about? Did Jason know crossing the finish line last meant getting eliminated, so he made sure not to cross at all? Is someone feeding him information, or was he watching the whole time? And why was Izzy with him? Did she switch sides? Why- Wait.”
The Asian girl’s eyes widened as though something horrible was just occurring to her.
“The final race had me, Lindsay, Courtney and Duncan. No matter who lost, Jason got rid of a potential enemy… and as useless as Lindsay was, her vote was mine, so now I have one less. And now that Duncan’s fearing for his life, he probably won’t go against Jason again. And with DJ confessing like that, he’s for sure in Jason’s camp from now on. And if Jason turned Izzy, somehow, then…”
Heather gasped, her expression going equal parts impressed and horrified.
“No way… Did he plan it this way from the start?! Did he trick me into voting off Gwen last time just so he could turn it around and-?! Was that whole thing with fighting Izzy just a ploy? Was she in his alliance even back then? Is that why he helped me, so I’d be distracted and not notice?! That’s… That’s DIABOLICAL!”
“Okay, apparently I missed the mother-of-all insult trains or something,” Jason said in the confessional, looking tired and still a bit moist from his trip to the lake. “And get this: Eva said it was Lindsay insulting Heather. Can you believe it? Man, I wish I’d been there!”
The boy straightened and sighed. “Oh, yeah, and remind me never to go biking with Izzy again. Fuckin’ hell, man…”
End Chapter 18
The roster
The Screaming Gophers: Gwen, Trent, Heather, Cody, Lindsay, Beth, Izzy, Owen, Leshawna, Justin, Noah
The Killer Bass: Geoff, Bridgette, DJ, Tyler, Sadie, Katie, Courtney, Jason, Duncan, Eva, and Harold
Author’s Afterword: I was very tempted to call this chapter “Something, Something, Reverse UNO Card”, but I couldn’t think of anything witty enough.
