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: I feel very iffy on how I rendered the song. I tried several different ways before begrudgingly settling on what you see in the chapter. Does it work at all? Not sure I did Eva’s scene justice, either. Oh, and the chapter as a whole turned out differently than I expected before writing it, especially the confessional scenes at the end. Things are ramping up…
Chapter 7: The Oldest and Strongest Emotion
After we returned from the tuck shop to Camp Wawanakwa, we collectively decided to show some pity on the Gophers by bringing them a few snacks.
… And by “collectively decided” I mean Courtney thought it would be a nice PR stunt and badgered the rest of us into agreeing. As for the snacks we brought? Well, after stuffing our collective faces, there wasn’t much left (not counting some stuff I surreptitiously squirreled away in my backpack): a couple half-eaten bags of chips, some chocolate bars, and a green jelly thing that for some reason had a gummy worm in it.
I think Geoff picked that one out, thinking we could all share it, but by the time we got around to it nobody wanted to eat anymore, so… yeah. That’s about the time Courtney had her PR stunt idea.
We found the Gophers sitting around the campfire, looking despondent. Looking around I saw that Izzy, the redhead, was missing, so presumably they had their campfire ceremony while we were gone and voted her off.
Too bad. She seemed like a funny girl.
“What, did you come to gloat?” Heather asked testily when we approached.
“Not at all,” Courtney said amicably. “We got some extra dessert left over after our tuck shop party. You guys want some?”
To emphasize the point, DJ raised up plastic bags filled with leftovers, while Geoff held up the green jelly thing on a platter.
“Oh, you’re just being nice?” Heather asked, her voice dripping with icy sweetness. “I’ll believe that. Scram, fishies.”
“Alright, I’ll level with ya,” I said before Courtney could protest. “We stuffed our faces and we don’t want the leftovers to go to waste. Happy?”
Heather shot me a suspicious look, but eventually relented. “Fine. What have you got?”
“Chips, cheese doodles, chocolate and candy bars,” DJ said.
“And jelly!” Geoff chimed in, stepping forward. In doing so, he brought the jelly up close to Courtney, who immediately took a few steps away while looking queasy.
“Wait, what’s wrong with the jelly?” Heather asked and put her hands on her hips to stare Courtney down.
“N-nothing!” Courtney insisted. “I just… I just had too much to eat and even the thought of eating another bite… Well…”
The way Heather’s eyes narrowed told me she didn’t believe a word of it.
I groaned. “Look, you guys can eat the leftovers or we can throw ‘em in the trash. Your choice.”
Well, personally I thought throwing perfectly edible snacks in the trash was a waste, but Chris had made it abundantly clear that we weren’t allowed to keep anything after that night.
… Which probably meant my squirreled-away supplies qualified as contraband, but I didn’t really care. What was he gonna do, take them from me?
“I don’t trust you,” Heather said simply after giving me a stare-down. She walked over and pointed at the jelly. “I think you guys did something to the jelly. Let me guess: laxatives?”
“Oh, come on, you’re being ridiculous!” Courtney said, her voice rising.
“Really, now? Alright, then it’s no problem if…
you eat it,” she said, taking the plate of jelly from Geoff and shoving it toward DJ.
Surprisingly, the Jamaican boy let out a scream of “
SNAKE!” and threw his arms out as if to ward off the jelly. In doing so, the bags he carried slammed against the bottom of the plate and knocked it out of Heather’s hands and onto the ground.
“Dude, it’s just a gummy worm!” Geoff interjected. “Chill out, man.”
“Sorry for tripping. I… I just really… hate snakes,” DJ said awkwardly. “Sorry.”
“Hey, I feel ya,” Tyler said suddenly as he stepped forward and gave DJ a sympathetic pat on the back. “Chickens creep me out, man.”
Gwen shot the jock a disbelieving look. “You’re afraid of
chickens?”
Duncan snorted. “Wow, that’s… that’s really lame, man.”
And with that, despite Heather’s continued statements of suspicion, we all sat down around the campfire and shared stories of our worst fears while the Gophers ate the leftovers that
hadn’t suffered an impromptu meeting with the ground.
“My worst fear? I guess being buried alive,” Gwen admitted. “Like, being stuck underground with no way out and just waiting for the end? Just the thought freaks me out.”
“I’m afraid of ninja,” Harold said curtly.
Lindsay waved her hand in the air. “
Ohhh, I’m afraid of walking across a minefield… in heels.”
I blinked. “Why heels?”
“Because then I can’t feel the mines until I step on them.”
“But how would you- Ugh, never mind.”
It’s probably something stupid…
“I’m afraid of being, like,
covered in bugs,” Beth spoke up.
“Oh, I hear that,” Leshawna chimed in. “Bugs are bad, but for me?
Spiders. All those little legs…”
“Speaking of legs,” I said jovially, looking over at Heather, who probably had the longest legs of anyone at camp. “What about you?”
The Asian girl gave me a dirty look before visibly deflating. A worried look crossed her face as she looked away. “Sumo wrestlers.”
That’s… oddly specific. “Why sumo wrestlers?”
“None of your business, freak.”
“Wow, okay,” I said, rolling my eyes at the girl’s hostility. “What about you, Owen?”
“Flying, man,” he said curtly, his eyes wide in fear. “That’s some crazy stuff…”
“I’m scared of hail,” Geoff said. “Small but deadly, dude.”
Several sets of eyes alighted on Eva, who sat next to the cowboy. She met them with an angry look, but soon sighed. “Being weak. Like, I sometimes have this nightmare where I’m at a powerlifting meet and I can’t do the deadlift.”
“Having to defuse a time bomb under pressure,” Cody volunteered.
“I’m not really afraid of anything,” Courtney said smugly.
Duncan, who sat on the stump next to her, made a show of coughing “
Baloney!” into his fist.
“Oh, really?” Courtney asked, her smugness disappearing. “Well, what exactly is
your phobia, Mister Know-it-all?”
The punk rocker looked around, and seeing everyone’s gazes on him, stuttered out, “C-C-Céline Dion music store standees.”
I bit back a laugh at that. Barely. I only snorted a little, honest. “You’re afraid of
Céline Dion?”
“
No!” Duncan protested. “Just… just her standee.”
“
Ohhh, I
love Céline Dion!” Lindsay supplied oh-so-helpfully. Then she frowned. “What’s a standee?”
“You know, that cardboard cutout thing that stands in the music store,” Trent supplied, far more helpfully.
“Don’t say it, dude!” Duncan hissed.
“Kinda like a life-size but flat Céline,” Trent continued.
“So if we had a cardboard standee
right now…” Courtney trailed off, wearing a sly grin as she gave Duncan sidelong glance.
“Shut up!” he snapped back at her. He then looked over at the Gophers. “What about you guys?”
“Well, okay,” Trent said. “I hate mimes. Like, a lot.”
“I’m afraid of waking up one day and looking like a normal person,” Justin said. “Like, really ugly. Can you imagine?”
That can be arranged, I very nearly said out loud. As it was, it took every bit of willpower I had not to pick up my stump and throw it at the guy. Fortunately, Trent soon supplied a distraction.
“Come on, Courtney,” he said. “There has to be
something you’re afraid of. Spit it out.”
“Nope,” Courtney returned with a smug grin. “Nothing.”
Duncan snorted. “That’s not what she said last night.”
Her grin faded. “Duncan, did you ever consider that maybe I was just humoring you and your stupid story?”
“I dunno,” I said, forcing myself to stop glaring at Justin to look over at the Hispanic girl, “that scream of yours sounded pretty real to me.”
“
Shut up!”
“What about you, Jason?” Heather asked suddenly, looking at me. She smirked. “What are you afraid of? Clowns? Heights? Sharp objects?”
“Definitely not sharp objects,” Owen cut in before I could speak. “When we went fishing last night, he used a spear. And a knife to gut the fish.”
Heather fairly whirled around at that. “You
what?” she exclaimed. “Owen, explain yourself this instant!”
“What’s to explain?” Owen asked, puzzled. “We went fishing together. I made a fish trap and he caught the fish with his spear, and then we gutted and filleted them.”
Ah, he didn’t mention that last night, huh? Then again, neither did I. “Yeah, that’s right. I went to fish and when I got to the stream Owen was already there. We pooled our resources to save time.”
“Right!” Owen agreed. “It was fun fishing together!”
Heather, for her part, shot me a suspicious glare, but said nothing.
“Hey, let’s not get sidetracked,” Trent interjected. “Jason, what’s your fear?”
“I… don’t really have one,” I said thoughtfully. “Can’t say I’m really afraid of anything.”
“What about spiders?” Leshawna asked.
“Eh, I’m neutral on spiders.”
“How about snakes?” DJ suggested with a shudder.
“Oh, I like snakes,” I replied, perking up. “Snakes are cool.”
What followed after that was a good ten minutes of people suggesting specific fears and me refuting them all one by one. Though I did attract some doubting looks, eventually they just gave up and the conversation veered to other topics.
All in all, it was a pretty decent night for most of us. Except Heather, who kept glaring at me, and Gwen who looked… I dunno, constipated? She barely ate anything, and she kept rocking back and forth and looking concerned for whatever reason.
Eh, it’s probably nothing.
During breakfast the next day, I was surprised to find Chris walking into the main lodge, wearing an anticipative grin. It was the sort of grin he wore whenever he was about to present a new challenge for us, but by my count we weren’t due another challenge for another two days. Understandably, then, I was immediately alarmed.
“Campers! Your next challenge is a little game I like to call…
Phobia Factor! Prepare to face your worst fear!”
Dammit.
“Worse than
this?” Leshawna asked, gesturing to the food.
“We’re in trouble,” Gwen said flatly.
“Aren’t we supposed to get a couple days off?” I asked.
“Now, for our first victims,” Chris continued, ignoring me. At this point, I was starting to get used to it. The host pulled a card from his pocket and read, “
Heather! Meet us all in the theater. It’s…
sumo time!”
Heather spat out her tea… all over Trent’s face. I snorted at the sight, which earned me a glare from the girl.
Chris looked over at Gwen. “Gwen. You, me, the beach, a few tons of sand…”
The Goth girl gasped.
“Wait, how did they know those were your worst fears?” Lindsay asked.
Gwen facepalmed. “Because we
told them.”
“At the campfire, last night,” Trent clarified.
Lindsay rose to her feet in alarm. “Wait, they were listening to us?”
“Uh, it’s a reality show,” I said. “There are cameras and mics
everywhere.”
The blonde turned to me. “But that’s, like, eavesdropping!”
I groaned and looked at the rest of the Gophers. “How is she still on your team?”
“Chef Hatchet,” Chris spoke up before anyone could answer, “didn’t you have a special order for Tyler here, today?”
Over in the kitchen, clearly visible through the giant hole in the wall, Chef Hatchet gave an evil grin and a nod. He pulled something out of the deep-fryer and walked over to our table and presented it to Tyler.
It was… deep-fried batter in the shape of a chicken. Tyler took it – apparently it wasn’t all that hot – and hesitantly bit off the head. A moment later, an actual live chicken popped its head out of the new hole in the deep-fried batter.
Tyler screamed.
How the hell did Chef get the chicken in there without killing it?
Ten minutes later, we were all gathered around an inflatable pool. Apparently, Chris wanted us all to witness each other’s horror. Man, what a sick, sadistic fuck.
We are definitely related, somehow. I just know it. Also, weren’t we supposed to do Heather’s fear, first?
Anyway, the pool wasn’t filled with water, oh, no; it was filled with bugs. Beetles, centipedes, pill bugs, you name it. Worms, too, for some reason.
It was Beth’s biggest fear, or so she had claimed the night before. To her credit, the girl just shrugged her shoulders and climbed in, then immediately dove beneath the roiling, crawling surface. She emerged a moment later, wearing a big-ass grin and not a single sign of fear.
She didn’t lie about being afraid, did she? Seems kinda suspicious to me…
“And Beth sets the bar way up there,” Chris said simply. “Next: Lindsay!”
To everyone’s surprise, it appeared that Chris had in fact set up a minefield of sorts on the outskirts of camp. The ground had been dug up – not just a few holes here and there, but completely dug up like a farmer’s field just before seeding – and presumably, there were mines hidden beneath.
“Um, do I really have to?” Lindsay asked, concern evident in her voice. She glanced between Chris and the minefield with a worried frown on her face.
“To win the challenge, you have to cross to the other side,” Chris explained cheerfully. “And since you’re already in heels, you might as well get started.”
Lindsay let out a whine, but turned toward the minefield. She audibly gulped, then began to slowly walk across it.
She barely got half a meter before there was an explosion of dirt… and color. Her high-heeled boots, her legs and a good portion of her skirt ended up covered in bright pink paint.
Evidently, the mines were of the paintball variety.
Lindsay, for her part, grasped at her head with her hands and screamed, “
MY SKIRT!”
Chris chuckled. “Giving up?”
“My… my boots!” Lindsay continued, seemingly not hearing him. “Pink doesn’t go with this top
at all!”
“Yo, Lindsay,” Chris said flatly. He tapped his watch. “Time’s a-wastin’. You gonna continue?”
“I… I…”
In her indecision, Lindsay took a half-step to the side… and inadvertently triggered an explosion of yellow.
The blonde stared down at her discolored clothes, tears brimming in her eyes. After a moment she let out a despairing wail and ran back toward camp, on a beeline for the communal bathroom.
“And Lindsay fails,” Chris said with a snicker. “You’re one for two, Gophers.”
Next was Owen, whose fear was flying.
“That does not look safe,” I deadpanned as I stood next to the bulky youth, staring at what was a plane mostly by technicality. While we were on different teams, I felt he was friendly enough that he deserved some moral support. Or friendly survival advice, in this case. “Like, not even a little.”
The plane was a small, single-engine craft, once bright yellow but now faded, with large spots of rust and discoloration all over. The wings had clearly been welded back together after some catastrophic failure on their part, there was
tape patching up holes and tears here and there, one of the landing wheels had been replaced with a ski of all things, and overall it looked like it would fall apart if you tapped it too hard.
Now, I had not actually flown myself until I was in my thirties. Not because of any particular avoidance of it but because I had grown up poor and it had taken that long for me to have both the money and inclination to go flying. I had been told a whole lot of horror stories beforehand, but figured they were mostly exaggerated; when it came down to it, I found that flying presented no difficulty at all save the incessant crying of children onboard who couldn’t handle the air pressure changes.
However, my first flight – and indeed, all my flights since – had been on professionally maintained commercial aircraft. This? This was not professionally maintained, certainly not commercial, and indeed I was uncertain if it even qualified as an aircraft anymore.
“I am going to die,” Owen said. He already had the colloquial thousand-yard-stare going on, and he hadn’t even gotten on the plane, yet. “I am going to
freakin’ die.”
The door to the plane opened then, revealing Chef Hatchet… wearing a flight stewardess uniform and a blond wig. The sight was nearly as horrifying as the plane itself. The chef-turned-stewardess made a come-hither gesture.
Owen promptly turned his back on the plane and walked away. “No, thank you. I choose to live.”
I nodded. “Good choice.”
“Gophers: One for three,” Chris said then, making a note on a pad. “Next is… Harold. Where is he?”
“I think he went to the bathroom,” Geoff volunteered.
“Ah. Well, that should be interesting,” Chris said, chuckling ominously.
I frowned. What was Harold’s fear, again?
Harold’s fear was ninja. Once we all made our way to the communal bathroom we found Harold unconscious on the floor, holding onto some nun-chucks. According to one of the cameramen who had followed him inside, the youth had encountered a trio of ninja inside and immediately pulled out the nun-chucks… only to then accidentally knock himself unconscious with them.
By declaration of Chris, Harold failed the challenge, putting the Killer Bass at zero for one.
Back outside the bathrooms, we were approached by Chef Hatchet, who had changed out of his stewardess uniform and wig into a very unconvincing spider costume. It was Leshawna’s turn.
I shot the man a deadpan look. “Seriously? How is that supposed to scare any-”
“
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!”
“… Never mind,” I said as the black girl inexplicably ran away screaming.
The Gophers were one for four.
Next was Heather, at the stage where we’d held the talent contest. The Asian girl went up on the stage while the rest of us sat down in the audience seats. As we watched, what appeared to be a genuine Japanese sumo wrestler walked onto the stage
How the hell did Chris get a sumo wrestler flown in overnight?
As Heather stood there, trembling with fear, the sumo wrestler let out a roar and charged. The girl let out a fearful yell and crouched, cowering with her arms held protectively over her head… and somehow, through some grand trick of fate, the sumo wrestler stumbled on her quivering form and fell off the stage… then inexplicably
bounced on the ground, again and again, until finally he disappeared out of sight.
…
Fucking cartoon physics, man, I thought and shook my head at the sight.
“And Heather steps up to the plate, scoring the Gophers their second point on the board,” Chris declared. “The Gophers are now two for five. Jason, it’s your turn. Get up here.”
I blinked and turned to the host. “What?”
“It’s your turn, brah. Get onstage.”
I blinked again. “I’m sorry?”
Courtney raised a hand into the air. “Um, Chris? I don’t think Jason revealed any fears last night.”
“Yeah, what she said,” I said, flicking a thumb in the girl’s direction.
“True, you didn’t reveal anything on camera,” Chris said as his lips split into a grin, “so we called your family. Your uncle Rob was
very forthcoming.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
ROB, you traitorous bastard! “Uncle Rob” my ass!
A few minutes later, I was alone on the stage… save for a microphone, some speakers, and a karaoke machine.
You see, I didn’t have any phobias in the traditional sense. I did, however, suffer from a… tiny bit of social anxiety. Long story short, I disliked receiving too much attention. Particularly as it pertained to making a fool of myself in front of others. For instance, by being forced to sing a song on stage in front of a live audience… and a TV audience. It was the reason I didn’t want to do the stupid reality show thing in the first pla- Wait.
My eyes widened in horrible realization, then. I turned to Chris, who stood to the side of the stage, wearing his trademark smirk with his hands clasped behind his back. “This is going to be on national TV, isn’t it?”
“International, actually,” the host informed me with a chuckle. “The producers got a lot of offers before we even started production. Total Drama Island’s gonna be on in North America, South America, Europe, Australia, and parts of Asia. I think they’re still negotiating for the African market and China.”
“No. No way. Fuck all of you, I’m out.” I turned to leave, but stopped when Chris spoke again, his voice dripping with smugness.
“You sure? The Gophers are leading two to nothing, brah.”
I paused. Muttering curses, I turned back to the karaoke machine, my vision blurry. Great, I was already feeling faint and I hadn’t even looked at the song selection. I had to blink and then rub my eyes before I could even read the list on the screen. Doing so, I frowned.
“Wait… There’s only, like, ten songs on here.”
“It’s all we could get the rights to on short notice,” Chris said with a shrug and a chuckle. “Legal had to work through the night.”
Grunting, I read through the list fully, and then again to make sure, in the process making a horrible discovery. “
It’s all love songs!”
“Oh, I
gotta hear this,” Heather said from the audience seats.
Naturally, I flipped her off, which only earned me a disdainful “
Ha!” in return. Fuck her. What was her problem, anyway?
“You can do it, Jason!” I heard a voice call out, and looking over I saw Courtney giving me a smile and a fist-pump.
“Uh, yeah, you can do it!” Duncan added after Courtney elbowed him in the side. There were random calls of encouragement from the rest of the Bass, but in truth I was already zoning out again.
“Clock’s ticking, Jason,” Chris interrupted, pointing meaningfully at his watch. “You in or you out?”
I grit my teeth, then sighed. “Fine. Gimme a minute.”
Okay, I can do this. Maybe. What’s least horrible here…?
I looked through the list… and paused when I spotted something I hadn’t before: a song I not only knew the lyrics to, but could actually sing pretty damn well. Did “Uncle Rob” suddenly decide to toss me a bone?
“Alright, I’ve decided,” I said and made the selection and grabbed the microphone. Singing by myself was one thing, singing in front of other people something else entirely… but with this song I might just be able to do it without making too big of a fool of myself. Maybe. Possibly.
… Probably not.
I looked out from the stage. Everyone, Gophers and Bass, watched me expectantly from their seats. There were more cameras trained on me than before, too. I resisted the urge to run away and pressed start on the karaoke machine. Immediately, music began streaming from the speakers as the first lyrics appeared on the screen before me. Fortunately, this song didn’t have a very long intro, so there wasn’t too much time spent standing around and looking like an idiot before the singing portion started. I swallowed and forced myself not to hyperventilate, then began to sing.
“
Frozen in silence,
facin’ it alone…
“
Gotta keep my cool,
make ‘em think I’m made of stone!
“
It’s a game of wills we’re playin’;
our nerves are made of steel!
“
Balanced on the edges
of e~everything we feel!
“
It's gonna take all we've got,
just to make it through this night!
“
Gotta feel it right through my skin,
and it's cuttin’ like a knife!
“Get ready to break the ice;
feels like time is standing still!
“Aiming right for your heart,
ready to take another spill!
“Only you can make it ri~ight!
You can break the ice inside of meeeeeeeee-!!”
I paused and breathed. My vision swam; between that and the blinding light from the spotlights I could barely make out the people in the audience. Nonetheless, I brought the mic back up.
“A single-minded passion;
a solitary stand.
“I thought I was alone,
left out in the co~old again!
“So I'm givin’ you all I've got;
I'm gonna make it through this night!
“And even though I could fall,
I'm prepared to lose the fight!
“Get ready to break the ice;
feels like time is standing still!
“Aiming right for your heart,
ready to take another spill!
“Only you can make it ri~ight!
You can break the iii~iii~iiice-!!”
My lungs desperately inhaled air, and with it, precious, precious oxygen. And yet, I felt my consciousness growing fainter and fainter. I could no longer make out the individual members of the audience. I no longer felt as if I was in my own body as I sang the outro.
“Get ready to break the ice;
feels like time is standing still!
“Aiming right for your heart,
ready to take another spill!
“Get ready to break the ice;
feels like time is standing still!
“Aiming right for your heart,
ready to take another spill!
“Get ready to break the ice;
feels like time is standing still!
“
Aiming right for your heart…”
The music died away. My lips felt parched, my throat burned… and there was naught but blurry shadows and lights in front of my eyes, my head thump-thump-thumping with the beating of my racing heart.
My legs folded and I sank to my knees, dropping the mic as my strength left me. I could hear incoherent noises, but they were dim and distant, as though drowned out and scattered by a thick fog.
Slowly, my senses returned to normal, and the noise dissolved into clapping and cheers. I raised my gaze and looked out across the audience to see both teams giving me a standing ovation.
…
Oh, crap, what have I done?
Shortly after his performance – and successful completion of his challenge – Jason… disappeared. That is to say, he surreptitiously ran off as soon as he wasn’t the center of attention and didn’t come back.
Eva understood, somewhat. She wouldn’t have wanted people to see her shame on display either, even if she did succeed in conquering it.
And speaking of which…
“Eva, it’s your turn,” Chris announced, prompting the gym girl to focus her attention on the host. “We’ve prepared for you to do a deadlift. If you’ll follow me.”
Eva snorted. A deadlift? If it was a weight she could handle, there was nothing to it, and if it was a weight she couldn’t, well… there was no dishonor in that. A big part of bodybuilding was knowing your limits and slowly working to overcome them. Taking on too much and hurting yourself was a rookie’s mistake.
“Oh, this isn’t a normal deadlift,” Chris said, probably seeing the look on Eva’s face. “You see, Chef Hatchet made sure to put some muscle relaxant in your food this morning.”
Muscle relax- Oh, no. Eva’s eyes slowly widened as realization crept in.
That was why she’d felt strange and wobbly ever since breakfast. He couldn’t possibly mean-
“You’re gonna deadlift the bar… with no weights on it. If you can, that is.”
Oh. Oh, no. If she couldn’t deadlift something as simple as just the bar, and in front of
everyone… Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no. This was just like Eva’s nightmares.
… Which was kind of the point, wasn’t it?
“Well, what are you waiting for, Eva?” Chris asked smoothly, stepping aside. In doing so, he gestured toward a bar lying on the ground, plain and unadorned by any additional weights.
Being asked to do the deadlift with just the bar would be downright insulting to her normally, but if they’d given her muscle relaxants, then…
Eva’s fingers curled into fists… and to her dismay she felt hardly any pressure on her palms whatsoever; she felt
so weak.
“Come on, Eva, you can do it!” Courtney exclaimed. Eva shot her a sidelong glance, but didn’t immediately reply… until the Hispanic girl added, “Come on, Jason faced his fear!”
Eva grit her teeth. That’s right, Jason faced his fear… even if he did run away afterward. Surely she could do the same?
“Fine, I’ll do it,” she said bitingly. She went up to the bar and took a few breaths before beginning an exercise she had done a thousand times before. Grasping the bar in her hands, she lifted it, and… immediately dropped it, the metal sliding out of her grip. Wow, she had no gripping strength at all, did she?
Eva grit her teeth as scenes from her nightmares began playing out on repeat in her mind, a feeling of despair starting to build within her. How could she, a veteran of countless powerlifting meets and bodybuilding competitions, not do something as ridiculously simple as deadlifting a
bar?!
Everyone was watching, too, seeing her shame. Her weakness. Her
failure.
Eva felt like running away. Was that how Jason felt when he- Jason.
Jason didn’t run from a challenge. During the Awake-a-thon, he stubbornly refused to give up until sleep claimed him, and after he’d beaten Eva with almost casual ease during her… rampage. And despite being sleep-deprived, he joined in and ultimately won the dodgeball challenge. And he procured food for the team when no one else could, during the camping challenge. And today… today he faced his fear and overcame it, for the sake of his team.
… Even if he did run away immediately afterward.
Jason did not shrink from a challenge… so how could Eva?
Eva gripped the bar again. And this time… she focused all her rage on keeping it in her grip.
The gym girl let out a roar as she struggled to lift the bar over her head. Eventually, after many agonizing seconds, she succeeded.
Chris clapped. “And that’s another point for the Bass. The teams are now even at two points each! Will Gwen be able to regain the Gophers’ lead? Let’s go to the beach and find out!”
Gwen was not a happy camper. Not only because of her missing diary – which was a problem all its own – but because she was about to be buried alive in a transparent plastic coffin on the beach.
“There’s enough air for an hour,” Trent said as he leaned over her plastic tomb. “You only need to do
five minutes. You’ll be fine.”
“As long as we decide to dig you out,” Chris said conversationally as he emptied another shovelful of sand onto the coffin.
The remark did nothing to assuage Gwen’s nerves. “Not funny, Chris!”
“Sheesh. Take a pill.”
“I’ll be listening the whole time,” Trent continued, holding up one half of the pair of walke-talkies they’d been given by Chris. He handed it to Gwen, who took it gratefully. “Just yell for me if you panic and I’ll dig you right out.”
Gwen nodded and gave the boy a smile. When he reached over to close the small hatch on the top of the coffin, she said, “Goodbye, cruel world!”
And then there was no sound save her own breathing and the impact of shovelfuls of sand reverberating as they hit the top of the coffin. Within moments, she could see nothing but darkness.
Gwen was alone.
With a flick, she turned on the walkie-talkie in her hand, the dim red light of the “on” lamp dimly lighting up her world of darkness. “Trent? Are you there?”
“
I’m here,” came the boy’s slightly distorted voice over the walkie-talkie.
Gwen sighed in relief and clasped the device to her chest. “I’m scared,” she said earnestly. “Swear you won’t leave, okay?”
“
I promise. Nothing’s gonna make me leave. No matter what.”
The boy’s reassuring words did a lot to ease the fear gripping Gwen’s heart. Truly, if not for his comforting presence over the past few days, she would likely have gone completely crazy over her missing diary. It was no exaggeration to say the boy kept her sane; he had been her rock in the storm.
… If only she had the courage to tell him how she felt!
“Trent? I need some kind of distraction. Tell me a story. Um… Why do you hate mimes so much?”
“
Oh, man, where do I begin? I guess it all started when my Mom took me to this carnival once, when I was four so I could see the elephants. I was stoked.“
“Yeah?”
“
I was so busy watching them that I lost her for a minute. I called out, but when I turned around all I could see was this horrible, white face with black lips pretending to be me. I screamed and tried to run, but every time I turned around he was there, doing this creepy, fake run-and-scream routine and-”
There was a pause.
“… Trent? Are you still the-”
“
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
“Trent? What’s happening?
Trent!”
There was no reply. She tried again.
“Trent?”
Nothing.
Gwen trembled, her grip tightening on the walkie-talkie.
“Trent? Answer me. Please. You’re there, right? Trent?”
Despite her pleas, there was no answer.
She was alone.
“No. No, no, no, no, no, no!
NO! TRENT! Someone! Anyone!
HELP!”
I blinked and looked up when I heard a sudden scream. Looking out from my hiding place in the bushes, I saw Trent run across the camp, a mime close on his heels. I watched, dumbfounded, until the pair disappeared from sight.
Guess I’m not the only one having trouble, huh? I mused. Sure, I had done the stupid song… but then I ran away and hid. I felt so fucking ashamed, not just for making a fool of myself in front of everyone, but for running away, too.
Crap, I’m pathetic…
Sure, given my… upbringing… it wasn’t exactly strange that I had some, er, “minor” social anxiety issues, but it was still fucking embarrassing. I did not look forward to facing my fellow campers again.
And yet… I would have to. Well, unless I disappeared into the wilderness, of course. Given the local climate, flora and fauna, I ought to be able to survive easily enough. Unless the winters were really, really rough. Canadian winters were a lot like Swedish winters, weren’t they? Or did that depend on where in Canada you were?
… Where the hell in Canada was I, anyway?
I shook myself. No, doing the disappearing act wouldn’t solve anything. Besides, ROB might just decide to teleport me back to the camp, anyhow.
Fucking ROB. This is all your fault, you asshole!
I sighed. As far as I knew there was nothing I could do to get out of my present reality show predicament, ROB or no ROB. Complaining about it or running away wouldn’t solve anything; I just had to see the stupid competition through to the end and then ROB would send me home. Hopefully. In the meantime, I really should just try to focus and make the best of things. And speaking of which, I really ought to check on my teammates.
I started to rise, only for the memory of the standing ovations I’d received to flash unbidden through my mind, along with a fresh wave of embarrassment. Moaning pitifully, I sank back into a crouching position.
Fuck you, ROB! I don’t wanna be famous, dammit…
A few pitiful minutes later, I heard what sounded like an explosion somewhere in the distance.
What the hell is going on out there…?
“
He abandoned me. Trent abandoned me! He left me to die, buried alive!”
Gwen rocked back and forth as she sat in the confessional, arms around her knees, her thighs pressing against her chest. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, and the expression on her face was one that could perhaps best be described as shell-shocked.
“
He promised he wouldn’t leave me. But he did. I thought I could trust him… but I was wrong. I can’t trust anyone…”
Gwen clutched at her hair, stray locks sticking out between her fingers.
“
And I still can’t find my diary! Where is it?! Who took it?!”
“
Okay, so, a lot of stuff happened today,” Jason said as he sat in the confessional, looking at the floor. He looked rather embarrassed, and kept drumming his fingers against his knee. “We won, which is good. I think Cody got voted off?”
The boy took a deep breath and clenched and unclenched his fingers several times before leaning back. In doing so he raised his gaze to look at the camera.
“
I heard DJ and Duncan both faced their fears without too much trouble. And Geoff apparently did too – he kept going on about how he ‘did it for Bridge’. The guy’s got it bad.
“
Eva faced her fear, too, though I’m not too clear on the details. I mean, how do you face a fear of being weak when you’re strong? Chris probably thought up something weird.”
A big grin made its way onto Jason’s face, then, in stark contrast to his previous nervous expression.
“
But you know what I’m really sad about missing? Justin’s challenge. The guys told me about it: apparently one of the interns put make-up on him to make him look ugly, and the guy just up and screamed and fainted when he saw his reflection. I would have paid good money to see that. Serves him right.”
He sighed, then, and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees as his expression turned more serious.
“
I really made a fool of myself today. Not just by singing onstage, but by running away after, too. I don’t have stage fright; it’s more like a general social anxiety thing. Going onstage and performing is just one of the more… clear-cut situations I don’t handle well.”
Jason laughed bitterly and looked at the ceiling.
“
Isn’t it weird? I’ve faced down armed gangs, wild animals, all sorts of physical dangers. I’ve been in mortal danger more times than I can remember, and I’ve always faced it head-on without a second thought. But being the center of attention and making a fool of myself? That fucking scares me. It’s ridiculous, I know, but…”
He looked at his feet.
“…
I just can’t help it…”
“
We lost. Again! I can’t believe it. My team is so utterly useless!”
Heather did not look happy as she sat in the confessional with her arms crossed over her chest. No, scratch that; she looked outright furious.
“
Not only did Lindsay screw up her challenge, but Justin did, too. And Owen! I’m sure Jason convinced him to throw the challenge. I saw them talking; they can’t fool me!”
The Asian girl angrily tapped her fingers on her arm as she looked away.
“
Jason is good. Really good. I’m willing to admit when I was wrong about someone. Oh, and the whole ‘running away in embarrassment’ act? I don’t buy it for a second. He’s just trying to get people to lower their guards around him, that’s all.”
Heather looked back to the camera and smirked.
“
But you can’t fool me, Jason; I see right through your little innocent act. I don’t care how good you are, I am taking you down! You’re not the only one who can turn people against their own team…”
End Chapter 7
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
