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Chapter Text

MK hadn’t counted on the Frogs of Death losing the very first challenge. That was decidedly unhelpful to her strategy of flying under the radar.

At least there was no chance that she’d get voted off. Three of her teammates were directly responsible for the loss, and another would make an excellent scapegoat. That’s how Bowie explained it during the “strategy meeting” she found herself roped into immediately after the challenge.

Like, chill out, dude. There was plenty of for scheming later.

MK only escaped by claiming she needed to make a confessional. It was a bullshit excuse, but no one on her team knew her well enough to call her out on it. She just wanted to chill out by herself for a while. Brood in silence, figure out which competitors were worth pickpocketing, stuff like that.

Nichelle was inside the girls’ cabin, crying about the bee stings on her face. Celebrities were so soft sometimes. Since that was a no-go, MK settled on sitting outside, drawing in the dirt with a stick.

Unfortunately, fifteen minutes into her stick art, the worst possible thing happened: her annoying teammate Emma planted herself right next to MK.

“Whew, finally done with that confessional! Did the interns give you your cue cards yet? They gave me my cue cards and I decided I’d just get it out of the way, haha.”

“No cue cards for me, thank you,” MK said. If she ever did make a confessional (again, not gonna happen), she wasn’t gonna be coaxed into spilling her deepest secrets by a cue card.

“Oh, well, you should try it out soon! The toilet stinks like a skunk—and I have smelled skunk before, I rented one for a Thanksgiving prank—but it feels so good to let it all out, y’know? I could just trash-talk Chase all. Day.”

Dang it. Emma was attempting to bond with her. And it just kept getting worse: after pleasantries were out of the way, she started asking a series of increasingly personal questions. MK amused herself by making up stupid answers.

“Favorite color?”

“Puce.”

“Instagram following?”

“Fifteen million.” MK did have fifteen thousand followers on her private meme account, but Emma definitely didn’t have a high enough IQ to appreciate her intellectual humor.

“First celebrity crush?”

“Chris McLean,” MK lied. She didn’t get worked up over celebs. She didn’t get worked up for anybody, period. People like Emma who freaked out over boys needed to seek therapy, for serious.

“Oh, interesting choice!” 

Note to self: Emma does not understand satire.

Apparently, Emma did not understand social cues either, because without waiting for a response, she just kept talking. “Mine was Leo DiCaprio before he turned out to be a weirdo. Favorite sushi?”

“California balls.”

“You mean California rolls?”

“No, I mean balls.” MK made a show of rolling her eyes. “It’s a rich-people thing. You’d understand if you could afford it.”

“Oh.” Emma looked uncomfortable now. MK stifled a smirk. Score one for me. 

Emma changed the subject. “Y’know, you basically picked the best seat on the island.”

MK let a few moments pass before she caved and took the bait. “Why have I picked the best seat on the island?”

“Because of Caleb.” Swooning, Emma pointed at the basketball game in progress several yards away.

Oh, that. MK wasn’t blind. She’d noticed the boys—Caleb, Raj, Ripper, and Zee—playing basketball behind the cabins. They’d arrived around the same time Emma had (which, now that MK was connecting the dots, probably wasn’t a coincidence). Here was the thing, though: she didn’t care.

Here’s something she did care about: did Emma’s skirt have pockets? And if it did, was there a wallet inside? Anything worth stealing?

If she wanted to rob Emma dry, MK needed to keep her busy. So she started lying. “Oh yeah, for sure. How could I not fall in love with those hunky muscles?”

“I know!”

Wow, Emma was a moron. MK brushed her hand against her skirt in the most unweird way possible.

The best part was that Emma kept talking unprompted. “I have never seen anyone as gorgeous as Caleb. I mean, seriously, do you think he was born that pretty? Did the doctors faint as soon as his beautiful head came out?”

“Do you want a serious answer to that question?” MK asked. Okay, there was definitely a wallet in there.

Right as MK was about to grab it, Emma grabbed her face. Um, consent much?

Emma forced MK’s eyes in the direction of the basketball game. Caleb and Raj were playing against Ripper and Zee, and right now, a shirtless Ripper was dribbling the ball away from Raj.

“Do you think Ripper fixed his pants yet?” MK asked, irritated that her face had been snatched instead of the wallet.

“MK, MK, MK,” Emma said, sounding very much like MK’s mom the first (and only) time she’d got caught shoplifting. “How could you think about Ripper at a time like this? Oh, look, there he goes!”

Caleb had swiped the ball from Ripper and was dribbling across the uneven pavement. His height helped him considerably—he didn’t even jump to score a basket. With both feet on the ground, Caleb slammed it through the net. Raj cheered, Ripper sulked, and Zee clapped.

As soon as Emma released her face, MK made another grab for the wallet.

“I bet he’s a good kisser,” Emma said. “I mean, that jawline? How could he not be? Chase always tastes like fast food grease ‘cause he gets sponsorships all the time. I bet Caleb tastes like cinnamon or cherries or, I dunno, something else good! Ugh, I think I’m in love!”

Somewhere between ‘cinnamon’ and ‘cherries,’ MK grabbed the wallet. Success! As for Emma’s ramblings, she offered a deadpan response: “Well, Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Emma pried her eyes away from the game and blinked at her. “That’s so cynical, Mary Kate. Haven’t you ever been in love before?”

There were so many things wrong with what Emma had just said.

“First, it’s just MK. Second and third, who’s asking, and what are they gonna do with that information? Fourth, it’s not cynicism, it’s just strategy. I’m voting for Caleb tonight.

Emma looked like someone had just hit her dog with a car. “What? Why?”

“Look how physically capable he is,” MK said. Conveniently, Caleb was dunking another shot over Ripper’s short and angry form. “He didn’t do much in today’s challenge, but all those muscles are a threat.”

That had been Bowie’s logic during the “strategy meeting.” He’d cornered her, Julia, and Nichelle right when they’d returned to the cabin. His reasoning had seemed solid to MK. She didn’t care who went home, so it might as well be Caleb.

Besides, MK believed in the power of gender. Boys were gullible, but girls were just as easily manipulated. If she said the words “Girl Power” to Julia, Nichelle, and Emma during the next vote, they’d all be lame-brained enough to join together and vote off the lame-o hockey guys and Bowie.

Emma was still blubbering about the impending loss of her eye candy. “Yeah, he’s physically capable, but that’s why we should keep him around! As much as I hate to say it, I think I’m going to vote for Nichelle. She’s, like, such a superstar, and I really want her autograph, but she’s the one who really messed up today.”

“Oh no, not Nichelle,” MK said sarcastically. Although truth be told, she wanted to keep Nichelle around a little while longer (at least until she had a chance to steal her credit card).

Back on the court, Zee was waving his hands in the air. Raj sped past him and made a bucket. Caleb high-fived his fellow Frog of Death.

“But the difference between Caleb and Nichelle is that I want to date Caleb,” Emma said miserably. “I wonder if he’d date me. Do you think he’d date me?”

“Nope,” MK said. “But trust me, you’re dodging a bullet. He probably traded his last few brain cells for those biceps.” Dumb jocks were annoying, but they were also very easy to steal from.

“Maybe it wouldn’t even matter,” Emma said thoughtfully. “As long as Chase sees I’m over him… Ohmigosh, Mary—MK, that’s such a genius plan! Me and Caleb get together, become such a power couple, win the competish, go viral, start our own prank channel! Chase won’t be able to stand it!”

“Congrats to the happy couple.” MK stood. Now that Emma’s wallet was tucked securely in her jacket pocket, there was no reason to put up with her small talk. “Anyway, I’m gonna take a nap. Or something.” MK very much enjoyed naps. Hopefully Nichelle wasn’t crying in the cabin anymore.

“Oh. Well, I’m gonna stay here and watch Caleb. And everyone else, I guess. Woo, go Caleb!”

MK glanced at the basketball game as she left. She wasn’t blind, okay? He was hot. His curly hair was well-maintained. He perfectly filled out his pink shirt, and those skinny jeans did wonders for his legs. Plus, she’s gotten up close and personal with him on the dock earlier—he’d smelled like the first day of spring. MK usually hated spring, but Caleb made it work.

She wasn’t blind, but she was smart. MK could make several assumptions right off the bat: Caleb was aware he was hot, and he looked down on everyone else because of it. He had the personality of a toadstool and the brains of a jellyfish.

MK didn’t believe in personal grooming, she didn’t believe in romance, and she didn’t believe in associating with idiots. Still, it didn’t hurt to look, right?

Chapter Text

On his first day at the Loser’s Hotel, Caleb had worked through his anger at the gym. His usual two-hour morning routine turned into four hours—and when he got bored after lunch, he returned to the weights rack for a follow-up. 

Coach might have some things to say about overworking himself, but Caleb couldn’t bring himself to care. The cameras were gone, so Coach would never find out, and he needed something to occupy his time.

His anger had mostly receded as the days passed, but earlier, one of the interns had let slip that the Frogs of Death had lost today’s challenge. The damn had burst, and all of Caleb’s resentment came flooding back, coursing through his bloodstream like the vitamin pills he took when he first started wrestling.

Dinner had wrapped up a half hour ago, and now Caleb sat in the lobby, waiting for the new arrival so he could chew them out. While he waited, he watched Axel rig a net around the door.

“No one’s coming to kill us, Axel,” he said. 

She’d arrived on day two, and Caleb was already tired of the booby traps and the knives and the gung-ho survivalist attitude. He tried to be polite, though, because it wouldn’t do any good to get on Axel’s bad side.

“You don’t know that!” Axel hissed, shooting him a scathing glare. “Have you seen the state of the government in the past few years? We are one leaked document away from the zombie apocalypse!”

Caleb didn’t really have an answer for that.

“Let the girl do what she wants.” Nichelle walked into the lobby, seemly unphased by Axel’s absurd ideas. “As long as that net doesn’t get caught in my hair. Do you know how expensive personal stylists are?”

Caleb didn’t have anything to say to her, either. After her arrival on night three, Nichelle had refused to explain how she’d gotten eliminated. She’d also refused to explain why she’d voted him out on night one. No matter how famous Nichelle Ladonna was, she didn’t have the right to kick him out without cause.

As Nichelle settled on the couch beside his, Caleb turned away. Even now, he still couldn’t wrap his mind around why he’d been sent home first. He’d been polite, he’d helped during the challenge, he’d bonded with the guys over a friendly game of basketball, and he’d chatted with the girls at dinner.

All the while, they were plotting behind your back. A familiar feeling of nausea settled in Caleb’s stomach. He was no stranger to feeling used, hurt, and betrayed.

A high-frequency cackle shook the building. Caleb snapped out of his sump. All of his negative feelings were replaced by fear.

He did not appreciate Lauren.

“You guys hear that?” Axel snapped at him and Nichelle. “I’m protecting the hotel from her.”

“She’ll come out of hiding soon,” Caleb said, trying to be reasonable. “I didn’t see her at any of the meals today. By tomorrow’s breakfast, she’ll be starving.”

“That girl is insane,” Nichelle said. “She probably eats cockroaches for dessert.”

Caleb gave her a side-eye and chose not to respond.

Another giggle—this one was definitely coming from inside the walls. In his peripheral vision, Caleb noticed the desk clerk cowering. Poor girl. The entire hotel staff had been in for a rough time since Lauren arrived on day four. They may have signed up to play host to reality TV contestants at a rundown hotel, but they hadn’t anticipated the insane clown girl hiding in the vents.

Footsteps echoed down the main stairwell, and suddenly a wide-eye Damien appeared, books tucked under his armpits.

“You cannot pay me to be up there right now.” His voice shook as he sat down beside Caleb. “I think Scary Girl has it out for me.”

Damien had arrived on day five—yesterday. Since then, Caleb hadn’t seen much of him. He assumed that Damien spent most of his time in his room, either cowering from Lauren or reading.

“We missed you at dinner, man,” Caleb said in an attempt to reassure Damien that not everyone here was out to get him.

“Menu sounded unappetizing,” Damien admitted. “I decided I’d rather get some reading done.”

“Reading? For fun?” Nichelle looked at Damien like he had three heads. “The only thing I can bear to read is all the scripts for my shows.”

Damien shrugged. “My school gives me summer homework. I figured bringing some of it along would give me something to do in my spare time.”

“That’s smart,” Caleb said. He also had homework—only for math and English—but he’d completed half of it during the first month of summer vacation. There was no point in stressing himself out over school when he was already stressed about winning a reality show.

That had been his logic while he was packing his suitcase. If he had known that he would be voted out first, Caleb might have brought some books along as well.

“Thanks,” Damien said, turning to Caleb. “Now that we’re here, I’ve been meaning to ask: could I go to the gym with you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, no problem.” Something almost like relief washed over Caleb. Now he’d have a workout buddy, someone to talk to that wasn’t deranged (no offense to Axel or Lauren). “I’m going first thing in the morning, before breakfast. That good with you?”

“Perfect,” Damien said. He stuck his hand out. Caleb shook it.

And then someone walked through the door and Axel’s trap came undone.

“Aaaah!” screamed the tiny figure entangled in the nets.

“Zombie!” Axel shrieked, whipping out a machete.

Oh no. Thinking on his feet, Caleb jumped up and snatched it away from Axel before she could maim someone.

“Awwww.” Lauren crawled out from under the couch. Damien and Nichelle screamed and scrambled away from her.

Kneeling over the tangled-up mystery person, Caleb felt very much like a Spooky Doo character.

“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” he said, gently slipping the machete under the thick ropes.

Moments later, a head popped out: the very very familiar head of one of his own teammates.

“Mary Kate!” said Caleb in unison with everyone else.

“MK,” she spat, shrugging the rest of the nets off. “Though I guess you wouldn’t know, seeing as you got sent home the minute you arrived.”

“Hey!” Caleb refused to tolerate that. He’d been giving Nichelle the cold shoulder, but if MK wanted to argue, he would argue.

“Lemme guess.” MK held up the torn net and glared at Axel. “This is your stupid net?”

“It’s not stupid! I’m taking reasonable precautions!”

“Whatever. Where’s the grub at? Where am I staying?” MK was already walking away, headed straight for the front desk.

Caleb, Nichelle, and Damien followed. Caleb couldn’t speak for the other two, but he knew that as annoyed as he was, he was also curious about how she’d gotten eliminated.

Once MK had received her keys from the desk clerk, Caleb spoke. “So, what happened?”

“What happened? Just now? I asked the lady for my keys, and she gave them to me. I know your biceps are ten times the size of your brain, but try to keep up, pretty boy.”

Caleb stiffened. So she was one of those people, the type who wrote him off as vapid and dumb because he also took pride in his body.

“Oh, snap,” Nichelle said.

In time, Caleb resolved to prove MK wrong about his intellect. For now, he concentrated on staying calm.

“I meant in the competition,” he said evenly. “We’re all curious how everyone’s doing.”

“Better than you, for sure.”

No one had ever spoken to him like that. MK had been here for a total of three minutes, and she was already tearing him down with every word she spoke.

“Can you blame me for asking?” An edge crept into his voice. “It seems like my team is determined to keep me in the dark about everything. Nichelle won’t say why she got voted off, you won’t say why you got voted off, and no one’s given me a good reason about why I got voted off!”

“Let’s try to calm down,” Damien piped up. “I can tell you about Nichelle—”

“Don’t try to be a peacemaker, Damien,” MK growled. “There’s no peace to make. Nichelle got voted off ‘cause it turns out she’s not as action hero-ey as she’d like us to believe. She’s such a poser, she couldn’t even climb up the first leg of the obstacle course.”

“Hey!” Nichelle protested. “So uncalled for!”

“ I got voted off because Julia is a bitter hag who accused me of being a poop-watcher.”

Caleb forgot to be angry for a moment. “What?”

“ What ?” repeated Damien and Nichelle.

“The team was gonna vote off Julia because she’s a two-faced moolo buttknuckle—”

Caleb was pretty sure none of those words were in the Bible.

“—but she figured out I’d watched the confessional footage, snitched on me, and now all my hard work is sitting at the bottom of Lake Wawanakwa.” MK crossed her arms. “You happy?”

“Not really.” He tilted his head the way he always did when he began a wrestling match. It was a subtle sign to let his opponent know that he meant business. “Why’d you vote against me?”

“Because Bowie suggested it.” Then she turned on her heels and walked away.

Bowie. Caleb turned on Nichelle, and she nodded. The silent affirmation should’ve made him feel better, but if anything, it raised a million more questions. 

He watched MK disappear up the stairs. There was no point in chasing her down and interrogating her. He’d been ready to gloat about her loss, but after such a rough start, he’d rather just sleep off the anger and try again tomorrow.

So he turned to Damien. “Gym tomorrow. Eight o’clock sharp. I’m starting with or without you.”

Chapter Text

Usually, Damien didn’t have much trouble getting up before eight o’clock. Sleeping in the Loser’s Hotel was different. The thought of Scary Girl living in the vents kept him tossing and turning all night.

He wished he was back on the island so he could explain himself in a confessional. I’m not usually a chicken guy, I swear! But you try living in a hotel with a girl who almost ran you over with a jackhammer.

When his alarm clock ran at 7:50 a.m., Damien very much considered sleeping in. He didn’t want to disappoint Caleb, though, so he forced himself to get up—and then immediately fell off the bed.

His second problem: what was an appropriate workout outfit? As much as he loved his signature blue jacket, it wouldn’t be much help while benching—or whatever Caleb wanted to do. Damien hadn’t been to the gym since freshman year gym class.

After combing through his drawers, Damien caught sight of himself in the mirror. He was wearing his pajamas: a white tee and basketball shorts.

“This’ll do,” he said to no one. Sure, his pajamas would be gross and sweaty afterward, but hopefully, there was a laundry room somewhere in this hotel.

With minutes to spare, Damien left room 302 and headed down to the first floor. He passed the dining room (breakfast was being served until 11 a.m.), the arcade room (he had no quarters for the claw machine), and the bar (off limits for another two years). Finally, Damien arrived at the gym.

Yawning, Damien  called out, “Wassup!” Caleb turned around, and Damien’s yawn turned into a choked cough. The dude was completely, entirely shirtless. His pecs and six-pack were on full display. Damien looked down at his own six-pack-less abdomen. Suddenly, he didn’t feel very confident.

“Dude,” he began, “I don’t know know what kind of dress code your gym has, but I’m gonna keep my shirt on. If that’s alright.”

Caleb gestured him over. “I’m a no shoes, no shirt, no service type of guy,” he said. “Unfortunately, I woke up this morning and found all of my shirts were gone.”

Suddenly, Damien was wide awake.

“All of them? Pajama shirts, dress shirts, t-shirts, hoodies, jackets? All of it?”

“All of them.” Caleb nodded. “I mean, I don’t own hoodies, but everything is gone.”

“That’s so strange.” A sick feeling crept into Damien’s stomach. He wasn’t one for ghost stories, but now he was starting to believe that…

“Do you think the hotel is haunted?” he blurted out. “Maybe it wasn’t before, but with Scary Girl here, who knows what kinda mambo jumbo she brought with her!”

He’d triple-locked his door last night, just to be sure she wouldn’t sneak in. Every time footsteps passed through the hallway, he’d jolted awake. If Caleb’s shirt had been stolen, maybe Damien wasn’t the only person she was stalking.

“I don’t think it’s haunted,” Caleb said. He pointed to a long rack of weights and dumbbells. “Let’s stretch now. We’ll start with weights and then move to the squat rack.”

“But your shirts—” 

“Not ideal, true, but we can discuss it later,” Caleb said firmly. “ After this gym session.”

Damien did as he was told. As soon as they started stretching, all the exhaustion came rushing back.

I’m so glad the hotel isn’t rigged up with cameras like the island was. No one could see the tears in his eyes as he went through the motions. By no means was Damien physically weak, but jeez, fifteen-pound weights really took something out of a guy.

Caleb was a different story. Five minutes into the reps, he still hadn’t broken a sweat.

“How long have you been doing this?” Damien asked through his pain. “Bodybuilding, I mean. I’m assuming from your physique that you’re a lot more consistent about going to the gym than most guys our age.”

“I started wrestling in eighth grade. That means a lot of toning, weight training, and healthy eating. I just quit wrestling in January, but I still work out every day. Gotta keep up the grind.”

Can’t blame you, dude. For the most part, Damien was fine with how he looked—he dressed well and made sure his facial hair never got too unruly. Sometimes, though, he’d find himself chatting with a girl—like Millie, for instance—and wishing that he was a little taller, a little more muscular, a little more like Caleb.

“It’s gonna be nice, looking like that.” Maybe it was the sleepiness talking, but Damien realized too late what he’d said. He almost dropped his dumbbell on his foot. That was way too personal of a comment.

Luckily, Caleb didn’t seem to mind. He shrugged and said mildly, “Being this attractive has its ups and downs. It’s lot of upkeep.”

From someone else, admitting that might sound pretentious or self-absorbed. Maybe it was the soft tone of voice, but Damien didn’t get that vibe from Caleb. He decided to shut up and trust Caleb’s word.

For the most part, they worked out in silence, which was only broken by the faint pop music emanating from the speakers. Sometimes Caleb would comment on Damien’s technique, or Damien would wheeze as he struggled to pick up a piece of equipment. Damien kept his mind off the physical strain by thinking about ways to make Scary Girl admit to the crime of stealing Caleb’s shirts.

Finally, Caleb announced it was time for cool-down stretches. It didn’t come a moment too soon for Damien. Another rep, and his arms were going to fall off.

“So about your shirts,” Damien said after all the weights were put away. “I think we need to be strategic about getting Scary Girl to fess up. If we bring up some subtle questions—”

“No need,” Caleb said. “MK did it.”

Damien faltered. He had been so ready to pin Scary Girl with this—it had just the right amount of creepy stalker vibes that it was right up her alley. MK, on the other hand… he hadn’t known her well on the island. Maybe she was a viable suspect, especially after the way she’d blown up at Caleb last night.

“Are you gonna go talk to her? Because I can come, too. As moral support.” Damien did not particularly want to go. Although this investigation had piqued his interest, putting Caleb and MK in a room together did not seem like the wisest idea.

Although, if I stay close to Caleb all day, maybe Scary Girl won’t attack me.

“Damien, dude, I appreciate it.” Caleb patted his shoulder. “But I’ve got everything under control. Why don’t you go to breakfast and take a shower, okay?”

He couldn’t really argue with that. They left the gym. Caleb went upstairs (Damien assumed he was headed to the designated girls’ hall on the second floor), and Damien headed into the dining room.

Yesterday Damien had been informed that this hotel was rented out to accommodate Total Drama competitors for the next week and a half. Translation: the only guests in the entire hotel were his fellow contestants. Maybe that was the norm in the reality TV industry, but it made the dining experiences somewhat disconcerting. A whole buffet had been set up in the spacious dining room, but only three guests were around to enjoy it.

At the centermost table, Axel was building an impressive fort out of Cheerio boxes. At the very next table, Nichelle was making a face mask using the avocado from the avocado toast. Scary Girl was conspicuously absent, but Damien was too relieved to care about why.

“Not the most unusual thing I’ve seen here,” he said aloud. After grabbing his meal, he sat down with Nichelle so he could talk to her about all the antioxidants and vitamins that avocados provided.

Chapter Text

After a quick breakfast, MK retreated to her room to wait for the knock. It would come eventually—unless Caleb was even dumber than she’d expected (not that her expectations were that high).

Her contraband lying on the floor beside the blanket-cocoon she’d made last night, MK contented herself with stacking the foam coffee cups she’d swiped from the breakfast buffet. It had taken a single YouTube video to get her hooked on cup-stacking, which was the perfect hobby to improve her reaction time and sleight-of-hand proficiency.

Two hours later, the knock came. Finally.

She condensed her cup pyramid into a single stack, then crept to the door and peered through the peephole. In the hallway stood Caleb, no shirt in sight.

Woah. Actually, MK had a better word: damn. Last night, Caleb’s unbuttoned shirt had exposed a decent slice of his chest, but MK had been too busy pissing him off to appreciate his physique.

Physique, consider yourself appreciated.

Cracking the door open, MK gave him her best smirk. “You look lost. Need me to call your mommy?”

Caleb didn’t even laugh. He kept a flat frown on his face as he asked, “Are my shirts in there?”

MK glanced over her shoulder. The pile of shirts stared back at her.

“Maybe,” she said. “What are you going to do about it?”

Caleb released a slow, measured breath. “I’m going to ask you—politely—to give them back, please.”

MK’s usual M.O. was keeping a low profile; she took what she wanted as quietly as possible. Sometimes, however, she met someone so insufferable that she just had to push their buttons until they detonated. Caleb was one of these people.

“Nah. If you want them so bad, come and get them.”

“Nope. I would appreciate it if you handed them to me.”

“Oooh, someone thinks he’s so above it all.” The shit-eating grin dropped off her face. “I was right about you.” Caleb was so full of himself that he expected everyone else to wait on him hand and foot. He had expected to win the million dollars just because he was hot, and he couldn’t stand the fact that people had voted him off first.

Caleb folded his arms. “It’s impolite to enter a girl’s room without permission.”

“What is this, 1776?” MK’s eyes rolled so far into the back of her head, she thought they’d fall out. Seriously, chivalry was more dead than her parents’ marriage. 

Principles aside, she didn’t have anything to hide in here. She’d lost all her stolen goods to Julia after her elimination last night. Stupid Julia.

“I am trying to respect your space,” Caleb said sourly, “and it’s aggravating when you don’t do the same. Breaking into my room? Stealing my shirts?”

“Woah woah woah, you don’t have any proof right now.” MK’s smile returned. “Any hypothetical proof that might lend itself to your accusations is hidden behind this doorway. Which you refuse to walk through.”

“Fine,” Caleb said.

“Fine,” MK said back.

He threw up his hands and walked away. Huh? He’s giving up, just like that? No dramatic forsaking of morals for want of a shirt? Dang it.

“I guess he’s just that much of a spineless dope,” MK muttered as she shut the door. Now what was she supposed to do? Sniff the shirts? She wasn’t a weirdo (even if Julia had told everyone that she was a poop-watcher).

If Caleb wasn’t coming back for his stuff, she might as well sell the shirts on her website, Things Total Drama Island Contestants Used To Own. MK picked up one of the shirts to examine it. It was pink and patterned with tiny blue flamingos. Size: XL.

Once the season aired, Caleb would probably amass a following of millions of femcels desperate to be noticed by him. Any one of them would spend over a hundred dollars just to own one of his shirts. MK could already see the money rolling in.

Knock knock. MK perked up immediately. The shirt dropped to the floor. Caleb had come back!

I guess he’s gotten off his high horse after all. She threw the door open. “Well, well, we—”

Scary Girl lunged at her. MK screamed and fell backward. She threw her hands up so Scary wouldn’t maim her face. Scary Girl howled with laughter. Purple and pink were everywhere.

This is not how I am dying! Fueled with rage, MK snatched a ponytail and pulled. Scary Girl howled and slammed her shoulder into MK. MK landed against the wall. Oof. Her head spun as she watched Scary Girl scoop up Caleb’s shirts and skitter out the door.

“Hey!” MK scrambled after her. “I stole those, fair and square!”

Scary Girl had transformed back into a normal person again, and she daintily dropped the shirts into Caleb’s bulky arms.

“Thank you very much, Lauren,” he said.

“Don’t mention it,” Scary Girl said. She flexed her hand and backed away. “I’ll be back for you someday…”

“That psycho tried to kill me!” MK jabbed a furious finger at Caleb’s face. “Are you insane?”

“Sorry, MK, but I need clothes.” Caleb did not look very sorry. “You understand.”

He strolled off. She couldn’t help but yell after him: “Oh yeah? Well, you’re a stupid jock with no regard for personal safety!”

Caleb didn’t even look over his shoulder. MK scowled. She wished she had some of Julia’s crystals so she could manifest Caleb’s untimely fate in a meat grinder accident.

Scary Girl, meanwhile, was rocking back and forth on the soles of her feet.

“You like him,” she teased in that horrific falsetto voice.

“As if,” MK snarled.

Scary Girl held up a butter knife. “If you let me carve out your heart, those feelings will go away!”

“Nope, I’m good, thanks.” MK slammed the door in her face.

She plopped onto the pile of blankets that served as her bed-slash-beanbag-couch (not to sound like a pick-me, but mattresses were so overrated). Scary Girl was demented. MK, like everyone else on the island, knew that Caleb was hot. His abs spoke for themselves. But she definitely did not like him. Even the word itself was juvenile. Like.

Her thoughts drifted back to Emma. On top of her weird obsession with Chase, she’d also been head over heels for Caleb. She’d so badly wanted to prove that she was over Chase and that she was Caleb’s type. That type of desperation was pathetic.

“Plus,” MK reasoned as she stared at her ceiling, “if you’re emotionally tied to a person, how are you supposed to steal from them?”

MK decided to put those thoughts out of her mind for the rest of the day. She listed out all the people who were currently staying the hotel. At some point, she’d have to steal from all of them in order to get enough merchandise for Things Total Drama Island Contestants Used To Own. 

Making the list took a total of three minutes. Now what? Her head still hurt, no thanks to Scary Girl. She certainly wasn’t going to wander the hotel. What if she ran into Caleb?

Shut up about Caleb, MK told her brain. I don’t care how clever it was to use Scary Girl as a pawn. Shut up!

The best course of action was to watch TV in her room until dinner. It took three minutes to figure out how the remote worked—tech savvy as she was, she was no match for outdated TVs from 2010.

“No streaming?” MK complained. No surprise, considering how musty the hotel was. But still, that could limit her options.

All of the movies were older than her. Bob the Gallant Sheep, Scrollsaw, Step In It 3D … MK perked up when she saw Shoeless.

“Score!” She pumped a fist in the air as the opening credits rolled.

If there was one thing MK loved, it was making fun of awful romcom movies. There was something so satisfying about poking fun at the protagonist’s dumb choices. Like in one scene, the main character, Cheri got robbed and spent the whole scene crying about how her expensive Louboutin heels were getting ruined.

“Don’t you have more important things to worry about?” MK muttered. “Like, I don’t know, the gun pointed at your head?”

In a later scene, Cheri tried to seduce the new boy at school with a low-cut black dress and home-baked cookies.

“You idiot,” MK shouted at the TV screen. “He’s gayer than Bowie!”

Shoeless was dumb, but it was fun. The more she watched, the more MK relaxed. The pain in her head disappeared, and she forgot about Caleb.

Chapter Text

In Caleb’s humble opinion, it had been a good day. The shirt prank had been strange and unwanted, but he had to pat himself on the back for asking Lauren to help him retrieve his clothes.

(And for the record, he had good reason to stay out of MK’s room. It was important to set firm boundaries with girls, even ones that hated his guts).

Caleb sorted his clothes and picked out a nice blue Hawaiian shirt, the one that he usually reserved for his dad’s Sunday sermons. Next, he settled outside on the patio to soak in the sun. 

After an hour, the sun was blocked by a giant cloud—except when Caleb opened his eyes, it wasn’t a giant cloud. It was Nichelle standing over him, ready to explain what went down on the island (her exact phrasing was “I have to clarify the fake news that MK gave you”).

Surprised, Caleb had sat up and listened to her. She explained the challenge: an obstacle course, where time was of the essence. If the teams didn’t complete their obstacle course on time, Julia and Damien would drown. The Frogs of Death had scheduled Nichelle to go last.

“But I failed,” Nichelle whispered dramatically. “Everyone thought I’d be amazing because of my roles in action films, but I have a stunt double. Named Jerry!”

“That’s, uh, that’s rough.” Caleb sympathized with Nichelle, but… If it had been me completing that obstacle course, our team would have won.

“No one talked to me for the rest of the day except for Millie, who kept asking a bunch of questions about being a teenager in the industry. I ate dinner by myself, and then everyone else voted me off.”

“That’s quite the story,” Caleb said. “But it’s not as bad as I was expecting. A lot of actors use stunt doubles, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s just so embarrassing to get voted off third. Especially when you’re me, Nichelle Ladonna!”

He kept his voice calm even as he sorted through the feelings this was stirring up.

“How do you think being voted off first feels?” Caleb tried to keep the venom out of his voice, but there were so many emotions that it was hard to keep track of them. Gratitude that Nichelle had finally decided to share this with him, irritation that someone so clueless had lasted longer than he had, sympathy for being rejected by the team, lingering resentment that he was here…

Nichelle placed one hand over her heart and held up her arm. “I promise that I will not vote for you first during the rematch season.”

“What rematch?”

“Our contracts stipulated that we all compete in two seasons. Am I the only person who reads those things?”

Caleb couldn’t even remember what had been going through his mind when he signed his contract.

After she’d finished her story, Nichelle had pulled out a newly-minted script and asked if he would line read with her.

“Sure?” Caleb took the script from her and flipped through it. “What’s it about?” 

“It’s called Princess Assassin, and it’s about an ordinary, pretty teenage girl who’s a princess by day, assassin by night.”

I never would’ve guessed. But since he had nothing to do Caleb agreed to read with her.

They practiced lines for most of the afternoon. Caleb was enjoying himself. He wasn’t the theater type, but trying to figure out the best way to deliver each line of dialogue was a fun challenge. Maybe when school started, he’d audition for the drama department.

But then they’d typecast you as the romantic lead. You’d have to kiss a stranger who is definitely more into it than you are.

Caleb stumbled over his line. He muttered an apology and started over. 

Maybe he wouldn’t get typecast. Maybe if he auditioned, he’d be selected as a backup dancer or even a villain. But if he did end up marketed as the hunky love interest… maybe it was best if he avoided theatre for a while.

Every so often, Nichelle would look up from her script and smile at him. Caleb would always offer a hesitant smile back. She was acting surprisingly nice for someone who’d avoided talking to him up until two hours ago.

He resolved to keep his distance. Sure, Nichelle claimed that she wouldn’t vote for him next time, but maybe she was only telling him what he wanted to hear.

His paranoia only increased when he arrived for dinner that evening. After he’d stuffed his plate with food, he went to sit down. There were two seats left: one next to Nichelle, and one next to Lauren.

“Hi, Caleb!” Nichelle waved.

Oh boy. Caleb politely waved back. Nichelle was pretty, but he really hoped that she wasn’t trying to be anything more than friends. He wasn’t interested in being part of a “power couple,” even if the other half was Nichelle Ladonna.

Just to be safe, Caleb took the chair beside Lauren. He noticed too late that on the other side of him was MK, who was eyeing him warily.

Maybe I should sit with Nichelle after all. But before he could swap into the other empty seat, Damien arrived and took it. Great. Now Caleb was trapped between Lauren, whose plate was occupied by a voodoo doll, and MK, who would probably try to steal the clothes off his back.

I just won’t interact with MK, he decided. It wasn’t worth the risk of starting an argument in front of everyone. Instead, he asked Axel how her day was going.

“Fine,” was her curt reply. “Went on a twenty-kilometer jog around the lake perimeter.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to leave the hotel,” MK said dryly. “Y’know, so we don’t leak state secrets to the paparazzi?”

“Paparazzi is no joke,” Nichelle agreed. “My co-star Brad Bass got caught walking back to his flat while we were filming the season finale of Hot Teen Ninja Detective Squad. He had all his blood and guts makeup still on! The directors were not happy when the media figured out that his character would be dying.”

“I don’t care about paparazzi,” Axel snapped. “They’re just another distraction to my training.”

“Are we really gonna have to worry about paparazzi after this?” Damien asked. “I want to get famous for curing cancer, or winning a Nobel prize, or solving a Rubik's cube. Not for placing twelfth on a reality show!”

“If I run into a photographer, I’m going to run a meat cleaver through their skull,” said Lauren.

Damien loudly scooted his chair away from her.

MK groaned. Caleb risked a glance at her; she had buried her face in her hands. Despite her annoyance, Caleb couldn’t help but notice how sleek her long dark looked in the dining room light.

Nichelle looked up from her meal, one eyebrow raised. “Care to share?”

“I can’t be under constant surveillance,” MK complained. “That’s my whole shtick: fly under the radar so no one notices me!”

“I’m not sure you thought that through,” Caleb muttered under his breath. By revealing her strategy here, she wasn’t setting herself up for success in the second season.

MK glared at him. Caleb met her gaze, daring her to say something to prove him wrong. Eventually, they both looked away.

As dinner continued, talk to turned to speculation about who had been eliminated that day. Caleb was lowkey hoping that another Frogs of Death would get kicked out. Maybe he’d get lucky and Bowie himself would get sent home.

He kept those thoughts to himself, though. It wouldn’t help if people thought he was bitter and petty. Caleb’s parents had raised him to be better than that.

MK, on the other hand, was a vocal Julia hater. “She manipulated everyone and turned them against me! And she was rude to a velociraptor. If the team knows what’s good for them, they’ll send her home next!”

In a sudden fit of rage, Axel threw her utensils at the ground. “Aw man, I missed the velociraptor challenge?”

“Trust me,” MK said darkly, “you did not want to be there.”

Damien almost choked on his food. “Definitely not!” he squeaked. After clearing his throat, he tried again: “If the Ferocious Trout lose, 

“Definitely not,” Damien agreed. “But if my team loses, I hope we vote off Ripper. Millie and Priya both dislike him.”

“No!” Axel snapped. “Chase should be the one going home.”

“Any particular reason?” MK asked.

“He didn’t eat my squirrel breakfast.”

No one spoke for a moment. Axel seemed satisfied with her explanation.

“Any other reason?” Caleb prompted.

“No.”

“I don’t blame her,” Lauren said, leaning over so she could whisper to Caleb. “Chase missed a very delicious breakfast.”

Caleb didn’t even want to know what that meant. He didn’t even have the time to formulate a reply, because he noticed something strange: an intern was approaching their dinner table.

Chapter Text

In the time Caleb had spent at the Losers’ Hotel, he’d never been approached by an intern at dinner. 

“‘Scuze me, sorry!” The intern waved, a feeble attempt at getting everyone’s attention. Her nervous gaze found Caleb’s, and he recognized her as the girl who had crashed his boat into the island.

“Hi,” he said, offering her a sympathetic smile. “You’re Carmen, right?” She’d stuttered her name out when they’d first been introduced.

Her freckled cheeks colored, and she nodded. “Um, y-yeah. I just wanted to give everyone an update on the competition.”

Caleb clapped his hands. In an instant, everyone had shut up and glued their eyes to him. It was a little uncanny how much influence he had, but he might as well do something useful with it.

“Carmen has something to say,” he announced.

Carmen looked like she was going to melt into a puddle on the floor. Still stammering, she began, “So I have information about the competition.”

“Has everyone been eaten by zombies?”

“Has everyone been eaten by each other?”

“Has Julia died?”

“N-nope!” The red drained from Carmen’s face. Apparently, insane questions like these were enough to counteract whatever lovestruck haze had kept her tongue-tied. When she spoke again, her voice was clear and unwavering: 

“During today’s challenge Wayne and Raj sustained heavy injuries. The producers have decided to forego a normal vote tonight. Instead, at tonight’s ceremony, Wayne and Raj will be automatically eliminated and flown to a hospital for treatment.”

“They won’t be coming to the hotel?” Damien asked, his brow knit with concern. “Those must be some serious injuries.”

“Probably got concussed while head-butting each other,” MK said. “Snow owls aren’t the brightest animals.”

That crosses a line. He scowled at her. “Can’t you be nice to anybody for a single second?”

MK grimaced and looked away. Strange reaction, but Caleb decided not to think about it.

“How much blood did they lose?” Lauren asked.

Carmen shrugged. “I don’t know. As soon as Wayne and Raj recover—which may be as soon as tomorrow—they’ll be moved to the hotel.”

“Thanks for letting us know,” Caleb said. Carmen mumbled something that sounded like “See you around,” and then left.

The table went silent. Caleb picked at his food. Usually, he was thrilled to find that out that one of his former teammates was getting eliminated. When Nichelle arrived, it had taken all his willpower not to break out into a victory dance. But Wayne and Raj being medically evacuated? That was no elimination. That was just sad.

“I guess this was inevitable,” Damienn said absentmindedly.

Nichelle gave him a side-eye. “How’s that?”

“Priya was explaining the format of the show to me, and she said that the final episode always involves a one-versus-one setup. Sixteen competitors were cast for a thirteen-episode season. It was inevitable that two people would be eliminated at once. Otherwise, there would be four people left by the finale.”

It took a moment for the math to add up.

“Maybe Chris poisoned them in their sleep so he could eliminate them together,” Lauren suggested with a syrupy smile. “How considerate.”

Doesn't anyone here have a shred of decency? Caleb looked up from his plate. “Maybe instead of speculating we should, I don’t know, send them a get-well card.”

“I am so down for that,” Nichelle said. “I visit children’s hospitals all the time. They’re like a second home to me!”

“Okay,” Axel said.

Lauren got on all fours and spider-crawled out of the room.

Caleb blinked. “Really? Just like that?” I didn’t think anyone here was especially close to Wayne or Raj.

“Sure,” Damien said. “It might cheer them up.”

“I think it’s stupid,” MK said. “If they’re comatose, they won’t even be able to read the card.”

Caleb looked at her. She had one eyebrow raised and her lips pursed as if to say Really? The expression was almost kinda adorable.

Nope, can’t use ‘adorable to describe MK. Still, it was refreshing that she didn’t agree with every word out of his mouth. It wasn’t like Caleb always got unanimous approval on his ideas, but sometimes he wondered. Were people only paying attention to him because he was the hottest guy in the room?

And truthfully, he kinda agreed with MK. It was a stupid idea. Up until two minutes ago, he’d been wishing the worst on the Frogs of Death, Wayne and Raj included. With that resentment in his heart, making a get-well card felt insincere.

But he’d already proposed the idea, and everyone else liked it. So...

“I’ll make the card, then.”

After dinner, the hotel staff was more than happy to provide him with printer paper and an assortment of colored pens. Caleb tapped a blue one thoughtfully against his chin. What do I know about Wayne and Raj?

He knew they played hockey. Caleb drew two hockey sticks.

He knew they were best friends. Caleb drew two stick figures.

He knew Raj was okay at basketball. Caleb decided that fact wasn’t important enough to be illustrated.

Using a purple pen, he scrawled ‘GET WELL SOON’ in his nicest cursive. Inside, he wrote a generic note wishing them the best. After signing his name, Caleb set out to collect signatures.

He caught Lauren outside of Damien’s room. She pricked her own finger and smeared the blood across the bottom of the card.

Is this sanitary? Caleb decided not to dwell on it, for the sake of his sanity. He shooed Lauren away so he could collect Damien’s signature.

At the sight of the bloodstain, Damien’s eyes bugged out of his head. “What is that?”

“Um, a pen exploded,” Caleb lied. His parents had raised him to be an honest, upright citizen, but what Damien didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Next, he found Axel outside… sharpening an axe. She didn’t appear to be homicidal, unlike some purple-haired girls that Caleb knew. He got her signature without resistance, and then found Nichelle in the front lobby.

“Hey.” She paused before she put pen to paper. “Should I leave my number? For Wayne?”

Caleb felt it in his gut: This is a test. Nichelle wanted him to say no, to indicate some sort of interest, to hint that he’d compete with Wayne for her attention.

Unfortunately for her, he wasn’t interested.

“Go for it,” he said as neutrally as possible. “I’m sure that would cheer him up.”

Nichelle signed her name with a flourish and, with a smile, handed back the pen. If she was offended by his subtle rejection, she was doing a great job at hiding it.

Then again, she is an actress.

Five signatures down, one to go: MK.

She’d probably gone to her room to mope or scheme or do whatever it is she did. Caleb went upstairs, but received no answer when he knocked on her door. 

“Is this really worth it?” Caleb muttered. MK wouldn’t have any moral objection to his forging her signature.

He doubled back downstairs. She wasn’t in the rec room or the gym. And then he finally found her back in the dining room. She must have settled in after he’d finished designing the card. MK sat at the center table, using his pens (the hotel staff’s pens) to scribble in a booklet. As Caleb drew closer, he recognized it.

“Hi, MK.” He kept his voice calm and unassuming. “Where’d you get the sudoku?”

She didn’t look up. “Stole it.”

“From whom?”

“Front desk guy.”

“Would you like to sign the get well card?”

“Sure.”

Caleb paused. MK had been nothing but antagonistic since she’d arrived. Perhaps sudoku was some sort of antidote to her bad attitude.

Cautiously, Caleb slid the card toward her. MK flipped it open and, clenching her pen like a five-year-old, wrote her initials in big block letters: M. K.

Well that was easy.

“Oh shit,” MK said, pointing behind him. “Scary Girl with a bloody knife!”

“What?” Had she come to terrorize them? Caleb whirled around, but he was greeted with empty space. And when he turned around, MK was halfway out the door, the card tucked under her arm.

Damn it.

“Hey!” He took off after her. He’d spent five minutes on that card, ten minutes collecting signatures. His hard work was not going to waste.

MK cackled. She was headed right for the back stairwell.

“Get back here!” he shouted.

“Catch me if ya can, ya lousy hunk of muscle!” MK snickered as she bounded up the stairs two at a time.

Caleb wasn’t letting her get away that easy. He caught up with her on the second-floor landing and grabbed her coattails. Without thinking, he scooped her up, threw her over his shoulder, and marched right back downstairs.

“Hey!” she yelled, pounding her fists into his shoulder.

Focus on the irritation, he told himself, but that was hard to do when all he could think about was how light MK was in his arms. That was no surprise considering that A) he’d been toning his muscles since he was thirteen and B) MK was three times smaller than him. But as he steadied her, one hand on her upper back, a current of energy ran from his arm straight to his heart.

MK was kicking and yelling. This probably looks really bad . He shouldn’t have picked her up, but it was too late now. His only option was to get back to the dining hall as quickly as possible so he could get the card back and figure out why they hated each other so much.

That was the only reason he’d picked her up. That was the only reason he was carrying her all the way back downstairs.

Chapter Text

Caleb brought her back to the dining room, and MK fumed the entire time. Of all the presumptuous, entitled things. What gave him the right to pick her up with those big strong arms, to throw her over his shoulder? Her nostrils had been smushed against his back, and she’d inhaled way too much of his first-day-of-spring cologne.

He set her down in her chair and swiped back the get-well card. MK stared at it. She’d forgotten that was the reason he’d picked her up because she’d been too busy—

“Hey.” Caleb snapped his fingers to get her attention. “We need to talk.”

“Don’t snap your fingers at me,” MK grumbled. “Who are you, my mom?”

(Actually, her mom never bothered with discipline, least of all snapping fingers.)

“First, I would like to apologize,” Caleb said. “I shouldn’t have manhandled you like that.”

How chivalrous. Not. Jeez, this guy had a guilt complex a mile long. MK kept that thought to herself because she didn’t want to get into a screaming match.

“Okay,” she said, trying to convey very clearly that she did not care.

“We have a week left here,” Caleb said.

Suddenly, MK was very acutely aware of their height difference. It didn’t help that she was sitting while he stood. Caleb towered over her. From this angle, she had a clear view of his collarbone peeking out from his shirt. Wowzers.

“…MK, are you even listening?”

Shit. She’d zoned out while staring at his chest. This was horrible. MK needed to throw him off her scene.

“Um, maybe I’d pay attention if you weren’t the most boring person on the planet.” Bam, roasted.

“Just let me get through this, and then you’ll never have to talk to me again.” Caleb grimaced. “We have a week left before we go home. I know that for whatever reason, you don’t like me, but this is the third incident in less than twenty-four hours. I’d appreciate it if we called a truce. No more petty squabbling.”

Truce? This guy was a riot. MK offered him her most sardonic smile. “Wow, the big guy does know some fancy words.”

“I’m serious, MK. Why bother stealing shirts and handwritten cards when we could just ignore each other instead?”

MK’s expression didn’t change, but on the inside, she felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. Ignore each other instead. After this, Caleb would never give her the time of day.

Wait, why did she care? Caleb was a dumb jock. Being ignored by him was a good thing. But her body was telling a different story. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his striking green ones. She could still feel the pressure of his hand on her back. That had felt… good.

She had to save face. MK snorted and said, as nonchalantly as possible, “It’s just some good old-fashioned pranking. Are you telling me you can’t take a joke?”

“Yes.”

MK blinked. This guy had to be trolling her. Who answered yes to a question like that?

“I guess you’re even more of a crybaby than I thought,” she said. Would that get a rise out of him? Was there anything she could say to make him touch her again?

Nope. Caleb remained as stony-faced as ever. “Are you in or are you out?”

MK was confused. She hated being confused. For the time being, she decided to be nice. “Fine, I’ll play it your way. No more thieving.” From you, anyway. 

“No more crude remarks?”

“No more crude remarks.” About you, at least.

“Good. I’ll sleep easier tonight.” Caleb picked up his card. “I’m gonna go find an intern and pass this off. I look forward to ignoring you.”

“I look forward to ignoring you too?” The words came out on auto-pilot, but internally, MK was panicking. No more interacting with Caleb? The hottest guy on the planet? And since when did she care?

Need escape. She grabbed her sudoku and ran out of the room. Caleb was headed to the foyer and the main staircase, so she ran in the opposite direction, towards the auxiliary stairwell.

MK couldn’t even relax on the second floor, because her door was being guarded by Nichelle. Nichelle Ladonna, the famous movie star. MK almost laughed. If only her siblings could see her now.

Nichelle spotted her immediately. “MK! How ya doing, girl?”

“Horrible, and yourself?” 

Under normal circumstances, MK might have paused to pickpocket Nichelle. Right now, she just wanted to be alone and think about Caleb. Or not think about Caleb. What?

When MK grabbed for the doorknob, Nichelle moved to the side—and then followed her into the room.

The audacity.

“Do you mind?” MK said as rudely as possible. Suddenly, she appreciated that Caleb had refused to enter without permission. Apparently, not everyone had that decency.

“Nope,” said Nichelle. “I’m just here for the scoop, honest! I’m curious about you and Caleb.”

If MK hadn’t been on her guard before, now she was on red alert.

“Funny how that’s none of your business.”

“It’s my business when you’re flirting at the dinner table in front of everyone.” Nichelle paused to check her reflection in the mirror. “Now, we both know Caleb is a catch—”

“Is he?” MK muttered, shrugging off her jacket. Even without the extra later, she still felt unusually warm.

Nichelle was undeterred. “—but for whatever reason, he seems uninterested in me. Me , Nichelle Ladonna. And he wasn’t even around to witness me crumble under pressure!”

“Is the real world finally hitting you?” MK asked impatiently. “Just now learning that you can’t always get what you want?”

Nichelle’s eyes narrowed. “First, cool it with the attitude. Save it for Caleb. He definitely likes it.”

“What?” The thought scandalized MK. “No he does not!”

“Definitely does. That would explain why he’s into you and not me. Now don’t play with me: do you like him?”

MK thought about Caleb’s biceps, and his chest, and his abs. The image of his shirtless body was seared into her brain. She could not let Nichelle know any of this.

“Let’s get one thing straight. Love and romance are for gross, icky people who are too insecure to be emotionally independent.”

Nichelle clapped like a three-year-old. “So you do like him!”

“No I do not!” MK snapped. “Get out of my room!” 

She grabbed Nichelle by the arm and led her to the door. Nichelle just kept talking. “You’re a great actress. I could pull some strings, get you a role as an extra or a background character.”

“Over my dead body.” MK slammed the door in Nichelle’s face. She locked it and waited for the footsteps to recede before flopping on the bare mattress.

From head to toe, her body felt fuzzy. Her face was practically on fire.

Caleb? Where had that come from? Was this the whole ‘crush’ thing that the morons at school wouldn’t shut up about? Caleb wasn’t as dumb as she thought, and yeah, like she’d known from the start: he was hot.

“This cannot be happening to me,” she moaned, pulling her beanie down over her eyes. In the pitch black, the only thing she saw was Caleb. His collarbones, his chin, his toned six-pack.

She was just as stupid and dumb as the rest of society.

MK needed a break from thinking. She grabbed for the TV remote again. Sure, she’d already watched Shoeless once today, but she might as well watch it a second time.

This time, MK couldn’t even focus on making fun of Cheri’s stupid life choices. The whole movie was filled to the brim with shoes and romance, and she was not interested in shoes.

During the party scene, when Cheri accidentally kissed a guy, MK’s mind returned to Caleb once again. She’d never kissed anyone before, never wanted to. At home, when her older sister brought guys over late at night, MK could hear gross, slobbery, wet noises through the wall that separated their bedrooms. That had been enough to put her off the idea, but now she was having second thoughts. Maybe there was something to this, after all. Caleb had probably kissed a ton of girls; he’d know what he was doing.

Caleb was at the front of her mind for other scenes, too, even the one where Cheri was lying on her bed, playing footsie with the gay guy. All of these things that had seemed ridiculous five hours ago now seemed enticing.

The only question now was: what was she gonna do about it?

Chapter Text

Caleb spent the morning alone in the gym. Last night, he’d casually asked Damien if he’d be coming again; Damien had claimed to be dying of soreness. Caleb didn’t lose sleep over it. He was used to working out along. Preferred it, actually. Nothing against Damien, but it felt good to take care of his body away from prying eyes.

Another good thing: he had a shirt on. As far as he knew, MK hadn’t broken into his room again. As much as Caleb would appreciate an excuse to run into her again, it would be legitimately concerning if she stole his shirts two days in a row.

The workout was par for the course—two hours of rigor and weights—but his thoughts weren’t. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop them from drifting back to MK. Sometime in the past twenty-four hours, his annoyance towards her had shifted into something more appreciative.

Clearly, MK doesn’t hold me on a pedestal the way most people do, he thought as he began his dumbbell curls. If she had, she wouldn’t be so quick to insult him. And that one fact—that MK maybe saw him as a person instead of a Greek god—was enough to make Caleb reconsider all his opinions about her.

He caught his own eye in the wall mirror. Do not act like a hormone-riddled teenager, he reminded himself. Those were the exact words his mom had used before he’d left for Total Drama: “Caleb, don’t go acting like a hormone-riddled teenager. We raised you right.”

Caleb liked to think that his parents had raised him right, and so he resolved to listen to his mom’s advice. He would be cautious and disciplined. He and MK had just agreed to ignore each other, so he wouldn’t seek her out. Perhaps he’d run into MK at the hotel’s lunch buffet. And he’d definitely see her at dinner. Everyone always ate at the same time. Maybe there he’d offer her a courteous ‘hello,’ but nothing more.

It was a good plan, and by the time Caleb had finished his workout, he’d made some peace with his feelings. After putting away the weights, he refilled his water bottle, splashed a bit over his sweaty face, and left the gym. Caleb made his way to the auxiliary stairwell—he planned on changing into something casual before stopping in for breakfast.

He opened the door to the stairwell and did a double-take immediately. There, sitting on the steps and counting cash, was MK.

“MK,” he said, trying to rearrange his expression into something normal.

“Oh hey.” MK looked up and waved the wad of money at him. “Check out the bounty I got this morning!”

“Do I even want to know where you got that?” Caleb asked. Would that make him an accomplice in her crimes? How disappointed would his parents be if he got sent to prison just because MK told him whom she’d stolen from?

Luckily, those questions weren’t relevant. MK smirked and said, “Nope.”

Caleb nodded thoughtfully. Remember the plan. He was about to walk past her, leave her counting, and then, acting on impulse, he decided to throw out the plan.

“Hey, do you want to hang out later?”

“What happened to ignoring me?”

That was a good point. Caleb scrambled to come up with a legitimate explanation. “I was just being friendly. If you don’t want to talk with me, you’re free to say no.”

MK shrugged. “Okay. Sure, we can hang out. I’m free now, actually.”

Oh. Caleb’s brain short-circuited. He hadn’t anticipated that at all. Immediately, his gaze dropped to his t-shirt, which had collected several sweat patches over the past hour.

MK read his thoughts and said, “Who cares if you’re smelly? I sure don’t.”

“I’m—” If he was interested in her, Caleb wanted to feel his best. That required deodorant, cologne, and a fresh change of clothes. So he stood his ground and said, “Give me five minutes to change and then I’ll be good.”

There was a chance MK would insult him, maybe mock his routine or reduce him to a vain pretty boy again. If she did, if she broke their truce, Caleb was for sure going back upstairs and not ever talking to her again.

“Make that three minutes.” MK stood up and brushed past him. As she opened the door, she added, “If you’re not downstairs by then, I’m walkin’ out.”

Caleb hurried upstairs. This is not how the day was supposed to go, he thought as he shrugged off his shirt. He picked out a clean peach button-down and spritzed himself with cologne.

No pressure, he reminded himself. MK probably doesn’t even like you. Shocking, yes, but true.

She was waiting in the lobby. All the money she’d been counting earlier was out of sight. In an attempt at courtesy, Caleb sat on the couch perpendicular to hers. His mind was completely blank, and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“How was the competition going when you left? You mentioned Julia was the reason you got voted off?”

“What a way to ruin my mood,” MK said. She slouched so low in her seat that from Caleb’s perspective, her eyes were almost obscured by her toque. It was actually super attractive.

Focus on the person, Caleb, he reminded himself. That was the advice his dad liked to give. It was rude—and a bit hypocritical—to get caught up in a person’s physical appeal without appreciating what they had to offer as a human.

(Maybe that was pretentious, but hey, blame his shitty ex-girlfriends for saddling him on that high horse).

He listened as MK explained her strategy. Essentially, she’d wire-tapped the confessional so that she could “get the deets” on everyone’s worst secrets.

Caleb’s eyebrows rose. “Did you see mine?” He had recorded a single confessional on his first day on the island.

“The one where you talked about how disappointed you were that Wayne and Nichelle lost the challenge and you thought Raj of all people might be a good ally to team up with?” MK was clearly holding back laughter. “Yeah, I did. Betcha feel pretty crappy about that.”

“It was a process of elimination,” he replied. Although Caleb didn’t remember what exactly he’d said about his teammates, he remembered his first impressions of each of them.

Emma had been blatantly hitting on him right off the bat. She seemed like a completely normal person, and he understood her grudge against her ex-boyfriend. Still, the flirting was offputting. It was normal, and Caleb was used to it, but he didn’t trust her any farther than he could throw her.

He’d dismissed both Nichelle and Julia as two pretty if self-absorbed girls. If he’d continued in the competition, Caleb had planned to keep them at arm’s length as well. He didn’t want to assume things, but…

That hesitancy had formed his opinion on Bowie as well. Bowie had an eclectic taste in fashion and a good attitude, but he’d also asked Caleb point-blank if he was straight. Kudos to the guy for being upfront about it, but Caleb had decided to keep his distance. Anyone who was potentially interested in him was a cause for concern.

Raj seemed chill. He mostly talked about hockey and Wayne, his bestie. Wayne, who had blundered the first challenge with Nichelle, was the problem here. If Caleb tried to buddy up with Raj, the Snow Owl bromance would always supersede their alliance.

And that just left MK. Initially, he’d overlooked her because of how unassuming she had appeared. Now, he was realizing that he’d seen what she wanted him to see: a small girl in an oversized coat and a toque that threatened to swallow her whole. Someone like that would never sneak into the confessional to steal hours of confidential footage, right?

For now, he’d keep those thoughts to himself. “Anyway, enough about me. So you stole all of the confessionals.”

“And I learned a ton of interesting stuff.” MK’s lips curled. “Chase once kissed another girl on a dare, and even that wasn’t enough to make Emma dump him. Both of them mentioned this incident in separate confessionals.

“Raj struggles with migraines and he takes his meds once a day, in the confessional. Wayne was getting suspicious that Raj—well, he thinks Raj is hiding something from him. Probably the migraines.

“Millie is some sort of junior anthropologist. She’s been writing notes on all of us in her janky journal. And she voted out Scary Girl even after she promised Priya that she’d vote for Ripper. So harsh.”

“Who would do that?” Caleb said.

“For real,” MK said. “Personally, I would’ve gone for Ripper. If it came down to it, I could take Scary Girl in a fight.”

Caleb thought about yesterday, when MK had definitely not taken Scary Girl in a fight. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“So anyway, I had all this great dirt on everyone, and then I slipped up: I called Julia a buttknuckle.”

“A buttknuckle,” Caleb repeated.

“Yep. And that’s how she pieced together that I’d looked at the confessional tapes—because she only ever used that slur in confessionals.”

Is buttknuckle a slur?

“Rookie mistake, MK,” he said. “Rookie mistake.”

“I know.” MK rolled her head back so she was staring at the ceiling. “Jeez. She turns up at the elimination ceremony and acts all high and mighty by giving back the stuff I stole from people. And then she accused me of watching them all poop! First of all, you’re a moron if you take shits in the confessional instead of the communal bathroom. Forget about me, ‘cuz there’s probably a team of fully grown adults watching that footage! Second of all, I fast-forwarded through all that gross stuff.”

“Gee,” Caleb said, “it must be so hard to have your entire team turn on you for such a trivial reason.”

MK’s eyes disappeared into her toque. “Wow, so there is sarcasm in that tiny brain.”

Caleb shrugged modestly.

She told him about her experiences in the other challenges. Caleb listened intently as MK as described obstacle courses, cabbages and pirates, dinosaurs and burritos, and the shark bait shed that she’d used to control the island’s mechanics. Sometimes he asked questions if she glossed over an interesting point—human catapults? How did the math work for that? What was it like, flying through the air?

“Kinda mid,” MK admitted. “Ya still upset that we vote you off before you got coerced into all these death-defying challenges?”

Caleb paused. From her stories, it sounded like he’d been spared a lot of pain and torment at the hands of Chris McLean. Still, on the other side of that suffering was one million dollars. Suffering had its place—that’s what his dad preached—and Caleb was no stranger to the physical demands of these types of challenges.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “I wish I’d gotten a chance to compete fairly. Nichelle or Emma should’ve been gone, not me.”

“I hear ya on that.” MK sighed. “Are you gonna tear the hockey bros a new one once they get here?”

“I like to think I’m a better person than that.”

“You kinda have to be nice to them now. Otherwise, you’ll get canceled for being a jerk to some half-dead hospital-bound teenagers.”

MK was teasing, and Caleb chuckled. It was so untrue, and maybe that’s why he found it funny.

“Anyway.” She stood up. Even at her full height, she was maybe two inches taller than Caleb, who was still sitting.

“The arcade has some prizes with my name on them. You in?”

“Sure.” Caleb followed her out of the lounge and into the arcade room. Cobwebs were laced between games, and several claw machines contained outdated phone models or plushies of cartoon characters from Caleb’s childhood. This place definitely hadn’t been cleaned out in the last decade.

The first claw machine they stopped at required a quarter to play.

“I don’t have change,” Caleb said, disappointed.

“Skill issue,” said MK. With a flick of her wrist, she held up a quarter. “You want?”

“Sure?” Caleb wasn’t sure if she was being nice and offering her own money, or if she was bring nice and offering someone else’s money. Either way, she was being nice.

He slid the quarter into the claw machine. It roared to life with a clamor of bells and whistles and twirling lights. Caleb surveyed his options. This one was full of generic stuffed animals: rabbits, cats, bears, ducks, and even a pig. He decided to go for the pig. Its smiling eyes and curly tail reminded him of the ones on his cousins’ farm.

“You ever take your girlfriends to arcades?”

“Huh?” Caught off-guard by her question, Caleb jerked the crane too far to the right. “How did you know that I had a girlfriend?”

“Context clues?” MK gestured at him. “Seriously. No way have you not seen some action.”

That phrase—seen some action —left a sour taste in Caleb’s mouth. Relax. She’s not intentionally trying to upset you. Besides, he could accept her logic. Caleb knew he was attractive, and so did the girls back home.

“I’ve had three girlfriends. None of them lasted longer than five months. My last girlfriend dumped me after a week. And no, I haven’t taken any of them to the arcade.”

He kept his eyes trained on the pig and inched the crane forward. MK, meanwhile, had more opinions to share.

“Lemme guess: they were all crazy psychos that were too emotional and irrational. ‘Cause I hate to break it to you, man, but if you say yes, then ding ding ding! Congratulations, you’re the problem!”

Caleb couldn’t help but smile. “You’re making a lot of assumptions in the name of feminism, MK.”

“Feminism is for posers.”

Okay? That was another can of worms to open later. For now, Caleb focused on the pink pig. The timer was running out, and he still hadn’t found the perfect position for the claw.

“But back to my original question. What happened?”

“What happened is that I pretty quickly figured out being used,” Caleb said. He pressed the handle button. The claw lowered, closed lamely around the pig’s ear, and then retracted, empty-handed.

Disappointed, Caleb turned away from the machine so he could fully face MK. “Girls assume the worst about me, that I’m shallow and dumb, and they figure out they can just hook up with me and get whatever they want.”

Admittedly, he had been pretty shallow with his first girlfriend, Monica. They’d gotten together the first month of high school. Caleb had returned from summer vacation with a brand new six-pack, and that must have enticed her. They’d spent that fall making out in the back of Monica’s car. In the winter, Caleb developed a horrid case of acne, and Monica had dumped him for “not being hot anymore.” Ouch.

Eight months and one effective treatment regime later, Caleb had hooked up with Nina at the beginning of sophomore year. Their policy had been to kiss first, ask questions later. That had been the five-month relationship, but during those five months Caleb had become increasingly uncomfortable. Nina effectively ignored him at school. She never volunteered at the kitten shelter with him, never called except to ask when they’d be hanging out again?

Almost every night of the week they’d end up alone together—in his house, in hers, in a car, at the movies—and every single time she was on top of him, pressing her mouth against his, shrugging her own shirt off and begging him to do the same. In the moment, it felt amazing, and Caleb willingly complied. Afterward, he’d catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror and wonder if this was how relationships were supposed to go.

On Valentine’s Day, she’d pushed for more—a lot more. The all-the-way kind of more. Maybe it was the guilt of disobeying his parents (who pushed an abstinence policy that Caleb tried to respect), or maybe it was all the ways that Nina only seemed to like his body, not him as a person, but he’d said no. The next day he’d broken up with her.

Caleb had expected petty blows to his reputation. Instead, Nina told her friends they’d slept together after all. He hadn’t bothered trying to fix the rumor mill—instead, he’d quit wrestling, if only to escape the teasing from his teammates.

In the meantime, he thought about things—his own behavior, and the behavior of the people interested in him. And that’s when Caleb had made a new resolution: if he was going to kiss a girl, it wasn’t going to be anyone who would use and discard him. If that meant instituting a hugs-only policy for the first three months of a relationship, then so be it. Caleb refused to get hurt again. It wasn’t a perfect system—sure, a girl could fake her feelings long enough to get a good make-out sesh in—but Caleb felt a lot safer.

Those new principles had doomed his relationship with his third girlfriend, Lane. After occasionally studying with her for their algebra classes, Caleb had approached her during finals week. They’d gone out on two dates, and when it became apparent to Lane that she wouldn’t be “getting any action” (to use MK’s crude phrase) before her summer-long trip to California, she’d cut things short.

He didn’t want to dump his whole history on MK—not right now, at least. When she pressed him for specifics, Caleb gave her the rough summary:

“My first two girlfriends were way too handsy. So was the third, and when I wanted to take things at a slower pace, she dumped me.”

“Interesting,” MK said, drawing out every syllable of the word.

Caleb decided to flip the question to her. “What about you? Any boyfriends in your life?”

“Nope. All the people at my school are stupid.”

“Everyone? You must be a genius then.”

“Don’t I know it.” MK leaned against the claw machine, her arms crossed like she was some smug 1950s gangster. “My motto is work smarter, not harder. All these kids are wasting away reading books and doing homework. Meanwhile I am a straight D student.”

“My dad would kill me if I brought home anything less than a B!” Caleb was a solid B student, and his parents were fine with that as long as he was doing his best (Sometimes, Caleb tried his worst, and he still got good marks on assignments. Take a wild guess why).

“My parents probably would, too,” MK said. “Good thing they don’t know.”

“Why not?”

MK looked at him for a moment. “I think I’ve told you too much already.” She pushed him aside. Well, she tried to push him aside. She was so tiny that her strength had no effect on Caleb. He stepped aside anyway, to be polite.

She didn’t bother slotting a coin. Instead, she pushed the joystick up and down three times. Next, she carefully moved into position and smacked it down again. The claw dropped and closed firmly around a plushy. It dragged the thing into the deposit zone, and MK pulled it out.

“Stuffed duck!” she declared, holding up the floppy white bird with the same pride as a white boy presenting a fresh-caught bass on Flipagram.

“That’s a little too realistic.” Caleb poked at its limp body. “Lauren might try to spill its guts or something.”

MK snorted. “She’d probably start eating the stuffing, too.”

Caleb laughed. She’s so cute. Not in a demeaning, infantilizing way. There was something compelling to him about her candor. The way she was wringing the poor duck’s neck was nothing short of comical.

“Have you ever seen A Toy’s Life?” he asked. “Lauren looks like the type to dismember toys and Frankenstein them back together.”

“Frankenstein as a verb,” MK said, nodding along. “I’m impressed.”

“I don’t think ‘Frankenstein’ is that uncommon. I’m sure tons of people use that as a verb.”

“You know he’s the doctor, right?”

“Of course. I’m surprised you know he’s the doctor, since I’m assuming you also get Ds in your English classes.”

“I know classic lit if it shows up in Tweeter memes.” MK studied the duck that she still held in her hand. Abruptly, she shoved it in his face. “Here. I don’t want this.”

“Really?” Caleb wasn’t sure he wanted it, either.

“Ye-ah,” MK said, pronouncing it with two drawn-out syllables. “Stuffed animals are for weenies. And you look like a weenie.”

Somehow, compared to all her other insults, ‘weenie’ seemed like a compliment. Caleb took the duck, and immediately he was overthinking it. Was MK hitting on him by gifting him the duck? Maybe there was a mutual attraction, after all. The good thing about MK was that she was so brutal, he didn’t feel that she was manipulating him.

I just told her about my past, he reminded himself. Not the full story, but the fact that he’d been hurt by his past girlfriends. If MK was aware of that, then if she did like him, she’d treat him better. But that all hinged on the assumption that she was into him the way he was into her. Caleb couldn’t prove that yet, but he’d take the duck in his hand as a good sign.

Chapter Text

MK spent her entire social battery hanging out with Caleb—triple that amount, actually. Usually, she tapped out after an hour, but she’d hung out with Caleb for three. If she’d been some sort of crazy extravert—the ditzy Emma type, perhaps—that would be nothing, but all the talk and banter had wiped her out. It was the same mental exhaustion she felt after stealing a particularly lofty, planning-intensive target: rewarding, but boy did she need a nap.

So Caleb wasn’t as numbskullian as she’d anticipated. He was smart enough to learn from his past mistakes with his ex-girlfriends (but honestly, maybe he was a numbskull for dating shallow blonde whores in the first place). He’d been cagey about details, but from the little he’d given her, MK concluded that Caleb was the type to save sex for marriage. Medieval, but whatever. She hadn’t been looking for something that intense in the first place.

Anyway, past romances aside, they’d chatted about plenty of other things. Her favorite part had been the very end, when they’d migrated outside and speculated about how the rest of the season would play out. Caleb had floated around a few options before settling on Bowie as his choice candidate for the million—not because he liked Bowie, but because “if he manipulated my elimination on day one, then he must be hellbent on winning. You can’t cross people like that.”

MK, on the other hand, thought it through more carefully. From a statistical standpoint (not that she was a nerd, blegh ), it was more likely for someone from the other team to win. After Wayne and Raj’s departure yesterday, there were six Ferocious Trout left in the game compared to three Frogs of Death. Her money was on Priya, the girl who had been training for this competition her entire life.

They’d argued their points for a while, come to a consensus, and then MK had excused herself for a nap. After settling herself into the rat’s nest of sheets on the floor, she slept for a good chunk of the afternoon. After that, she took some time to herself and slunk around, looking for knick-knacks. Okay, maybe she snuck into Nichelle’s room to take her toothbrush. And Damien’s room to take one of his socks (only one). And Axel’s room to steal a Swiss army knife.

It was all in the name of money. MK needed more stuff to sell on Things Total Drama Island Contestants Used To Own, and then she’d be rich enough that she’d never have to work a day in her life.

MK had secured all her contraband in the closet and was chilling on her mattress when there was a knock at her door.

Caleb? Her heart rate spiked, and MK immediately wanted to slap herself for such a simpy thought. Still, she couldn’t deny how much she was looking forward to seeing those hunky muscles and—

“Hey girl.” Nichelle struck a pose. It looked stupid. “Everyone’s downstairs for dinner already. Wanna walk with me?”

“No,” MK said, but she figured she might as well. She was kinda hungry.

“Sooo, what have you been up to today?”

“Your mom.”

Nichelle rolled her eyes, and MK was close enough to notice the globby mascara, flaking eyeliner, and muddy eyeshadow. Yeesh, her makeup artist must be on vacay.

“That ain’t even funny,” Nichelle said. “You don’t know anything about my mom.”

“Can I ask you a question?” MK said. “Fo’ serious. Why bother with the makeup when there’s no paparazzi around?” Especially since it’s so bad.

“Why not?” Nichelle brushed her braids over her shoulder, and the beads clicked. “I like it. It gives me a morning routine, and making myself presentable gets me into character. I’ve spent all week rehearsing lines for my next show.”

“Really?” MK hadn’t known that. She had little interest in Nichelle as a person, but more dirt on the movie star lifestyle? Sign her up. There were many days where she would sink into her ratty old beanbag chair and binge trashy romcoms—and Nichelle happened to star in a lot of trashy romcoms.

“Okay, what’s the 411? What do you really think of the lines you’re given? Do you ever look at a script and go, ‘this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever read in my life?’”

Nichelle thought for a moment. “Let me get back to you on that, ‘kay? I always forget what’s allowed and not allowed in my contracts, and I don’t want to get sued just because I violated an NDA.”

“It’s not like I would snitch on you,” MK said. Which was true. If she was exposed as the one behind Nichelle Ladonna’s downfall, she’d probably receive death threats from furious Ladonnies. And to top it all off, the crappy romcom industry would crumble into oblivion.

“Let’s cut a deal then,” Nichelle said. “I’ll tell you all about the movie industry, and you tell me all about Caleb.”

“Um, pass. Why do you care, anyway?”

“You can only rehearse lines so many times before your eyes fall out of your head. I’m bored with a capital B! Tabloids are an excellent source of entertainment!”

Is this what I’ve been reduced to? A tabloid story for a washed-up teen star? MK could only hope that her life would return to normal after she went home. For now, she just had to put up with it.

They were the last ones to enter the dining room. Eight plates of food had already been served, and six seats were taken. Scary Girl was perched in her seat, pecking at her meal like a bird. Axel was sharpening her knives on a whetstone, Damien was tying a napkin around his neck, and Caleb was drumming his fingers on the table, apparently bored.

MK was about to taunt him—and then she registered the two new faces at the table.

“Oh, great,” she said sullenly. “Tweedle Moron and Tweedle Bozo.”

Now she could understand Caleb’s anger. They’d voted her off in favor of Julia, the blonde psycho who was a much more obvious threat. But also, both Wane and Raj were wrapped up in bandages. Karma had already come for them, apparently.

MK slid into the open seat between Damien and Caleb, then addressed the newcomers: “Hey, buttknuckles.”

“Hi, MK.” Wayne waved weakly. “Sorry ‘bout that, eh?”

“I mean, not really sorry,” Raj added. “You watched my buddy Wayne poop when you knew he was insecure about that.”

Everyone at the table was looking at her now. MK wanted to break Raj’s bones all over again.

“I did not watch you poop,” she said. “And that’s all I have to say on the matter.”

“Good,” Damien said, “because that’s all I want to hear on the matter.”

Thankfully, the conversation moved away from her. Axel leveled her knife at Wayne and Raj and demanded to hear the full story of their injuries.

“Cool story, right, Rajie?” Wayne elbowed his buddy. Raj yelped—Wayne had elbowed his very tender arm. MK stifled a smirk and dug into her food.

Raj and Wayne took turns recounting the challenge. After the teams had split up yesterday (So close! MK thought miserably), the remaining players had split up into duos to hunt birds. Wayne and Raj had stuck together like glue, which led to their downfall after they fell off a cliff.

And then Raj dropped the bombshell that MK had been waiting for this entire time. Or, rather, Wayne did when he suddenly announced, “My buddy has something to tell everyone!”

Raj looked like he was about to piss his pants in excitement. “I kissed Bowie and we’re gonna go on a date after filming wraps!”

This was the wrong group of people to tell. Not that anyone was violently homophobic (Chase and Ripper were still back on the island). It was just that half the table didn’t care. Axel shrugged and went back to eating her steak, Scary Girl was busy poking needles into a voodoo doll, and MK couldn’t resist the urge to heckle.

“What, you guys didn’t know?” she said, knowing damn well that no one else could have possibly known without watching the confessional footage.

“Don’t be mean,” Caleb said.

“What?” MK locked her gaze with his, challenging him. “Reality TV relationships are stupid.”

“How so?”

“Everything is a performance. You act like idiots in front of the camera, and suddenly everyone is dying to give their opinions on who you should suck face with.”

“Aren’t you one of the people inserting their opinion into someone else’s relationship?” Caleb pointed out.

MK shrugged noncommittally. She refused to be a part of the problem.

Damien and Caleb asked more questions, both about Bowie and the competition as a whole. Raj and Wayne thanked the entire table for their Get Well card. Eventually, the conversation moved away from the hockey bros. Wayne struck up a conversation with Nichelle about stunt doubles, Scary Girl was marching her voodoo doll towards Damien’s plate, and MK talked to Caleb about animals. Apparently, he had two Great Danes that he liked to take on afternoon walks.

“I bet all the old ladies are always outside at 3 o’clock on the dot,” MK teased. While he talked, she kept her eyes trained on his lips. Man, it would be nice if he kissed her.

One by one, people finished dinner. When Caleb got up, MK decided to stay seated. Yeah, she was daydreaming about making out with him, but she didn’t want to look desperate . Who was she, Emma?

But after he’d dumped his trash out, he looked over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”

“Coming where?” His room? Already? He was insane. Sign me up.

“To the lobby,” Caleb explained. Damnit. “Usually I stay downstairs to meet whoever walks through the doors.”

Oooh, right. The elimination ceremony was probably happening as they spoke. MK could dig that.

“Any guesses? Any hints?” she asked.

“You’d know more than I would.”

“I waaant to say Julia, because she was totally moolo and no one on our team liked her. Other biggest target: Ripper. He’s just a gross fart machine.”

When Caleb settled on a lobby couch, MK sat on the one beside his. From this angle, she didn’t have to crane her neck to subtly check him out.

“Maybe it’ll be Bowie,” Caleb said. “Someone’s gotta be smart enough to recognize what a threat he is. Then we’ll get a cute reunion between him and Raj, and he’ll be out of the competition.”

“Blegh,” MK said. She didn’t want to see any PDA—thank goodness she’d gotten out of the game before people started smooching in front of her.

“You seriously just don’t vibe with romance, do you?” Caleb said.

MK nodded in agreement. “Not when it’s played for publicity stunts.”

There didn’t just seem to be much point to sappiness. She was coming around to the physical stuff, sure, but kissing a hot guy sounded a lot different than vowing her undying love to him. 

And romance just seemed impractical. Her parents were apart all day—both at mind-numbingly dull 9 to 5s—and when they reunited, they never hugged or did anything to suggest they more than tolerated each other. MK’s older sister brought home tons of guys, a blond on Wednesday followed by a brunette and Thursday. Clearly, she didn’t need emotion to get what she wanted.

If Bowie and Raj or Chase and Emma wanted to make fools of themselves on national television, more power to them.

“So what would change your mind?”

“About TV relationships?”

Caleb nodded, and all of a sudden MK’s heart was racing. What? Was Caleb hitting on her? No way. But why else would he keep pressing the subject if not to figure out his own chances with her? This couldn’t be happening, not to her of all people. She could practically feel his lips on hers.

“Um, I don’t know,” MK said as normally as possible. “A million dollars, maybe.”

She was joking, of course. Caleb laughed along with her.

The rest of the eliminated cast members congregated by the lobby. Axel and Wayne were comparing the sturdiness of their combat boots, Damien and Nichelle were trading song recs back and forth, and Raj looked nervous—either because he was worried about Bowie potentially being eliminated or because Scary Girl was whispering into his ear.

When the hotel doors slid open, Ripper strolled into the room. Immediately, Axel went on a rampage. With a guttural growl, she tackled him to the ground.

“Get her off me!” Ripper screamed. “Get her off me!”

Damien and Caleb rushed to pry Axel off of him. She viciously swiped at the air.

“He’s the reason I’m stuck here!” she seethed. “He needs to pay!”

“You did that to yourself,” Ripper grumbled, picking himself up off the ground.

“What happened, guy?” Damien asked from where he was restraining Axel. “Did Millie and Priya get enough of you?”

“Hardly,” Ripper said, his face red for some undiscernible reason. “We had a gross eating challenge today, and everybody barfed their brains out.”

“Gross eating challenges sound right up your alley,” MK pointed out. Though she hadn’t talked to Ripper much, she’d smelled most of his farts from across the mess hall. “How did you lose that?”

Ripper gave a highlight reel of the day’s events: how Millie tapped out immediately, how Emma and Chase argued and vomited all over each other, and how Julia squicked out Zee by explaining the origins of milk.

“After Zee went, it was down to a sudden death round. Just me and Julia.”

Scary Girl “Sudden death?”

Ripper ignored her. “And then Chris brings out this tapeworm! Fifty feet long!”

Damien’s hand flew to his mouth. Caleb crossed himself, Wayne teared up, Nichelle literally ran from the room, and even MK recoiled. That couldn’t possibly be legal.

“Julia started at one end, I started on the other, and we had to eat to the middle. And at the very end…” Ripper paused for dramatic effect. “We kissed!”

“Julia kissed you?” MK said incredulously. Her gaze met Caleb’s for a moment, and she hoped they were thinking the same thing. I’ll take ‘things that never happened’ for 500, Alex.

“Oh, it happened alright. We kissed, I barfed.” Ripper squinted, like he’d realized his error. “I mean, I didn’t barf because she kissed me, I barfed because I’d just eaten twenty-five feet of tapeworm. So Julia won immunity, and everyone voted against me because they were intimidated by me.”

“I wanted to kiss Julia,” Wayne complained. “Too bad. I coulda taken that eating challenge, right Rajie?” He elbowed his buddy, and Raj crumpled to the floor in pain.

“You couldn’t even handle kissing Julia,” Ripper scoffed.

The conversation was getting away from them, and MK was no longer interested in being here. She tapped Caleb’s arm as she left. “I’m hitting the hay.”

“Good night, MK,” Caleb replied, waving to her as she left. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow was fine with her. She wanted to analyze all of this with him. Caleb was actually not a moron, after all. He was smart, and she liked having someone around to help her connect the puzzle pieces.

Chapter Text

“Halt, foul demon!”

Nichelle spent the next morning hard at work learning her lines for Princess Assassin. She usually didn’t work this hard; on the set of Fight or Flight Attendant, she had read each scene the night before, filmed one take, and moved on. She was Nichelle Ladonna, after all. She’d been discovered at four years old as a gifted actress. With such natural talent, extra practice was useless.

Total Drama Island had changed her mind. Three days into filming, she’d been exposed as a fraud. Stunt doubles were common in the film career, but they were uncommon for an actress who specialized in action films. It forced her to rethink the rest of her career. How could she improve?

She made a promise to herself: by this time next year, she’d have two Gemmy awards under her belt, and a million dollars from winning Total Drama season two. But season one wasn’t even finished yet, so for now she’d just focus on improving her acting.

After she’d rehearsed to the point of a hoarse voice, Nichelle yelled, “Cut!” It was time for a lunch break. She emerged from her room and ran downstairs, taking the stairs two by two.

Scary Girl was peeling a potato in the doorway. The scraps fell on the floor in the shape of a skull.

“All work and no play makes Nichelle a dull boy,” she said.

Weirdo, Nichelle thought.

Today’s buffet was salad and tuna. Nichelle dumped a helping of salad onto her plate (her personal nutritionist, Bailey, would be so proud of her!) and looked for a place to sit.

Wayne, Raj, Damien, and Ripper sat at one table. Axel was at another. The scene reminded her of her early days on the set of Choo Choo Canoe. At five years old, she’d sat with all the grown-up interns and listened as they complained about all the coffee they had to brew. She could have sat with her co-star Cole Sprout, but she’d refused because he had cooties.

Cooties. Nichelle counted again. Four boys, one girl, one scary girl, and herself equaled seven contestants. Where were eight and nine?

“Attention everyone!” she called. “Where are MK and Caleb?”

“Outside skipping rocks,” Wayne said.

We tried to join them,” Raj chimed in, “but MK told us to get lost.”

“And you do not mess with a lady who’s seen you poop,” Wayne added.

“That’s why I can’t talk to your mom, dude!”

“Dude!”

The boys howled like hyenas, but Nichelle had other concerns. She’d been dying to share her suspicions with someone else, and now MK and Caleb happened to be absent from lunch? Her life had been scripted perfectly.

“Soooo,” she said, “who’s thinking what I’m thinking?”

Ripper smirked. “If you’re thinking that this tuna is gonna stink up the bathrooms tomorrow, we’re on the same page, sister.”

“No!”

“We think about very different things, Nichelle,” Axel said.

Nichelle was very aware of this. “I’m talking about Caleb and MK! I totally think they’re gonna hook up!”

“Sweet,” Wayne said. “They should call this show Love Island instead of Total Drama Island, eh? Bowie and Raj, Caleb and MK! Everyone’s dating each other!”

“Don’t forget Emma and Chase!” Raj added.

“Or me and Julia!” Ripper said.

“I highly doubt you and Julia are dating,” Damien said. “No offense. And on that note, I also highly doubt that Caleb and MK are going to get together. No offense.”

“Pfft, don’t be a hater, Damien.” Nichelle rolled her eyes. She set her bowl down beside Axel but remained standing. “They clearly like each other. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be hanging out so much.”

“She stole his shirts!” Damien protested.

“She steals everyone’s stuff,” Axel countered. “My machete disappeared this morning.”

“But you didn’t really need that, did you?” Scary Girl materialized beside Axel, blinking maniacally. Axel, to her credit, didn’t even flinch. She just glared harder.

“MK left me defenseless in the event of a global crisis!”

The conversation was getting away from Nichelle. She raised her voice. “Raise your hand if you are in favor of Cae-K!”

“Kay-Kay?” Raj scratched his chin, looking lost.

“It’s their ship name,” Nichelle said. 

“Nerd!” Ripper screamed, leveling an accusatory finger in her direction.

“I’m not a nerd!” Nichelle protested. “My socials are constantly tagged in ship edits and thirst trap videos. Of course I know my way around fandom terminology!”

But now that she thought about it, Cae-K was not the most flattering ship name.

“Let’s call them MKaleb instead. All in favor of MKaleb, raise your hand!”

Wayne’s and Raj’s hands shot up. Scary Girl did a handstand, which Nichelle decided to count as a vote in her favor.

“Majority rules!” she said firmly. “We are making this happen, woo hoo!”

She sat down with Axel and dug into her salad. She couldn’t very well play matchmaker on an empty stomach.

True, when Nichelle had showed up at the Loser Hotel she’d been immediately smitten with Caleb. C’mon, the abs! The biceps! The jawline! They’d look so cute together in a coming-of-age Netflix original. But despite being violently in love with him, she’d avoided him. It was embarrassing to be voted off so soon. And maybe she felt bad about joining Bowie’s campaign against him. Now she knew how it felt.

As soon as the ice had thawed, Nichelle had realized she didn’t have a shot. He was standoffish and held a grudge. Y’know who else was standoffish and held grudges? MK! It was such a match made in heaven.

After lunch, Nichelle marched outside to figure things out. True to Wayne and Raj’s word, Caleb and MK were still out by the lake. They were quite the pair: he was tall, she was short. He looked like he’d walked out of Vogue headquarters, and MK looked like she’d walked out of a dumpster.

“Caleb!” Nichelle put on her most vapid voice. This needed to feel as casual as possible. “Caleb, lemme grab you real quick! Oh hi, MK, is it cool if I grab him for a minute?”

“Cool as Coolio.” MK eyed her suspiciously. Good. That meant she was jealous, which meant she was invested.

Nichelle dragged Caleb away until they’d disappeared around the corner and MK was out of sight.

“Um, what’s up?” Caleb asked.

“I was just wondering if you had any feedback for my performance of Princess Assassin.”

“Somehow I doubt that’s the case.” He folded his arms.

It was time for the dramatic reveal. Three, two, one, Action: “I know you like MK.”

“Really.” Caleb kept an impressively stoic face. “And what gave you that idea?”

“Um, hello? You were just skipping stones with that girl! So just tell me why you haven’t made a move yet!”

Caleb didn’t respond for a moment. He looked into the distance like he was contemplating all of life’s greatest mysteries. Finally, he said, “That’s not my style.”

“What? Romance?”

“Casual isn’t my style,” Caleb clarified. “I’ve had three girlfriends, and none of them… they didn’t respect me. They used me.”

Nichelle’s smile slipped for a moment. She understood. She’d seen enough creepers around set that she’d sworn off dating co-stars. When you were as famous as she was, it was hard to tell what was genuine affection and what was merely a ploy to get close to her and gain clout.

“That’s real,” she said. “That’s valid.”

Caleb shifted his weight, considering his next words carefully. “MK feels different. I like that she doesn’t suck up to me the way other people do. She insulted me to my face the first time we met. Who does that?” He chuckled. “And she’s smart in her own right. She’s a master at puzzles. She gets this scheming look on her face. It’s kinda cute.”

Okay, now Nichelle officially wanted to found an MKaleb fan club. If they didn’t get together, she was going to kick and scream and throw up.

“Then say something! No pressure, but we’re only here for, like, four more days. If you don’t make a move, you might lose her!”

“I’ve known her for a week,” Caleb said.

Nichelle snorted at such a ridiculous statement. “A week is two years in TV time! Have you seen those reality dating shows where the couple has ten days to get married? They spend so much time together, they feel like they’ve known each other for their whole lives.” She planned to audition for one of those once she turned eighteen.

“Even if it’s the teensiest tiniest crush, you should say something!” Nichelle added, in case her point wasn’t clear enough.

“I’ll think about it,” Caleb said, but he didn’t sound very convinced. “I’ll probably sit with her at dinner tonight.”

“Get takeout!” Nichelle loved, loved, loved takeout. She had it all the time on set. “As a midnight snack thing. Treat it like a mini-date, just the two of you. Ask about her home life. That way you can decide if it’s worth asking her out at all. Like, what if she’s a BC girlie and you’re from Quebec?”

“Very good points, Nichelle,” Caleb said. “I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

“I know, I’m so smart,” Nichelle said proudly. Maybe this was her real talent. Instead of being an actress, she should be a dating coach!

She sent Caleb back to MK and then headed inside to find Axel. That way, she could use Axel’s binoculars to watch MKaleb from the comfort of her air-conditioned hotel room.

Chapter Text

“What did Nichelle want?” MK asked once he returned to the lakeside. Her hands were stuffed into her pockets, and she stared up at him with a look of wry curiosity.

“Nothing important,” Caleb said. “Just feedback on her script.”

“Ugh, the Princess Assassin thing?” MK cracked a grin. “I’d love to leak it on Reddit. The public outcry would be so great that they’d be forced to rework the script into something halfway decent.”

“Wouldn’t you worry about Nichelle losing her job?”

“If I do it anonymously, no one would be able to prove she was involved. For all the studio knows, it could’ve been a disgruntled intern.”

“You’ve really thought this through,” Caleb remarked, hands on his hips.

“As I always do,” MK answered smugly.

He suggested that they go up for lunch, and after eating together they went their separate ways. MK went back to her room, and Caleb found himself playing Go Fish with Damien. Nichelle’s words rattled around his head. Her points, however half-baked, did have some truth to them. He did like MK. He also hadn’t thought to ask where she lived or anything important like that. What if she was too far away? What if she was American?

On the other hand, a long-distance relationship would mean there’s no way she could hurt you like Lane or Nina or Monica did.

Damien snapped his fingers. “Caleb! Any fives?”

“Oh!” Caleb had been lost in his thoughts. “Nope. Go fish.”

Relax, he reminded himself. MK probably doesn’t care about that kinda stuff anyways. She’d disdained Bowie and Raj’s romance, so she’d probably be okay with something casual. No roaming hands, no whirlwind six-week engagement, just long, witty conversations.

“Dude? It’s your turn to ask for something.”

“Oh!” Wow, he really was out of it. “Do you have any twos?”

Damien passed over a two. “Something on your mind? Anything I can help with?”

“Um…” Caleb hesitated. Could he trust Damien? Nichelle already knew everything; would it be wise to have another cook in the kitchen, as it were?

He finally said, “Not unless you have experience with girls.” Damien, no offense to him, didn’t seem like the type to have such experience.

But Damien laughed. “My friend, I may not know anything about Total Drama Island, but I am an expert at girls. One of my best friends, Brightly, keeps a running list on all the evil men at our school so I know who I cannot be friends with.”

“…Wow,” Caleb said, not exactly sure where to go from here. “You’ve had a girlfriend?”

“Not exactly.” This didn’t embarrass Damien. If anything, it only encouraged his excitement. “Here’s my secret: at the first sign of crazy, I run the other way.”

“That’s… not actually a bad strategy.” It was impossible to have a crazy ex-girlfriend if she never became your girlfriend in the first place.

“Brightly also keeps a running list of all the crazy girls at our school. It’s getting pretty long,” Damien said.

And then Caleb saw his way out of the conversation. “So how does Brightly define evil men versus good men? Or crazy girls versus normal girls?”

It was the perfect question to ask. Damien went off on a long tangent about the criteria for being labeled undateable. It was an interesting conversation, actually. Caleb learned a lot about Damien’s friend group. Most importantly, it kept the spotlight off of Caleb. He was free to continue thinking about MK—in his mind, without Damien ever finding out.

MK was delighted when Caleb sat with her at dinner. That was weird. When had she ever used the word ‘delighted’ to describe herself? Hot men turned her brain to mush, apparently. They spent dinner discussing the most nonsensical topics they could think of.

“If you were forced to chop off your right leg or your left arm, which would you pick?”

Caleb thought it over. “Probably my left arm. I’m right-handed anyway, and I have enough upper body strength that I’d be able to pick up most things with just one hand. How about you?”

“Right leg,” MK said. “I don’t do much walking in the first place. I’d hardly notice.” Plus, she could pretend to be a homeless amputated orphan and sit on street corners, waiting for strangers to toss cash in her direction. It sounded like a pretty sick gig.

Ripper, who was sitting on Caleb’s other side, inserted himself into the conversation even though literally no one had asked: “I’d chop off my butt—”

“Yikes,” MK said as Caleb mumbled, “Inappropriate.” They exchanged a glance, like, Can you believe this guy?

Dinner ended with Wayne trying to juggle oranges. After the fourth failed attempt, Axel flung a knife at the oranges, knocking them out of the air. Nichelle freaked out, fearing for the safety of her “beautiful face,” and everyone else decided it would be best to end the meal and wait in the lobby for the next contestant.

MK sat on the couch beside Caleb. Was it just her, or was he sitting closer to her than usual? Not that she was complaining. He still smelled like springtime. What did his skin feel like? Soft and smooth? Firm and enticing? Did he pop breath mints before kissing girls?

Her heart skipped a beat. How could she find out? Caleb was a puzzle that she needed to solve.

She was so busy thinking about Caleb that she didn’t notice the new arrival until the very last moment. The hotel doors slid open, and in walked…

“Zee!” everyone cried.

MK had not expected that at all. Given how intense Julia and Bowie were—plus the fact that Priya was a born and bred Total Drama competitor and that Chase and Emma were very loud and gross—she’d almost forgotten that Zee was competing at all.

“‘Sup dudes?” Zee looked around the room, an easy smile on his face. “Is there a soda machine in here?”

Scary Girl produced a vial of noxious-looking orange goop. Despite the protests of Damien and every other sane person in the room, Zee downed it without a second thought.

“So what happened?” Axel asked from her perch on the couch.

“Y’know, I don’t really know.” Zee scratched his head. “One moment I was vibing with Bowie’s alliance, and then I was vibing with Priya’s alliance, and I figured I’d Romeo and Juliet the whole thing by marrying them together, ya dig?”

MK did not dig.

“You were two-timing everyone,” Caleb realized. “But you were well-intentioned while two-timing everyone.”

“Exactly, brah,” Zee said. “So we had to climb up a mountain full of honey, and I dunno, at the very end everyone changed their votes to vote for me. It was really sad.”

MK actually understood what he meant. A few days ago, everyone had been ready to send Julia packing, but at the last minute that blonde buttknuckle had totally screwed MK over. Dang.

She glanced up at Caleb. Maybe he understood, too. His situation wasn’t the same, but she had to admit now that he had been blindsided. Maybe his hurt feelings didn’t stem from entitlement or pride. Maybe it hurt because he hadn’t seen it coming and he hadn’t done anything wrong in the first place (unlike Nichelle or Emma, cough).

In other news, Caleb’s jawline looked really good from this angle.

Axel, Damien, and Raj pressed Zee for more information. MK and Caleb listened quietly. Every so often, Zee would say something nonsensical, and they’d look at each other just like they had during dinner. Damn, Caleb really had the most attractive green eyes. MK hoped he was getting the message she was trying to silently signal: let’s go upstairs and make out.

Unfortunately, Caleb made no indication that he understood what she was trying to convey. Dang it. She’d try again later.

Twenty minutes later, Zee was still talking. Caleb had hoped he’d stop by now, but apparently, his prayers weren’t being answered tonight. Although Wayne and Raj seemed enamored by every word out of Zee’s mouth, Axel had wandered off to go kill squirrels, and Lauren had melted into the walls.

When MK turned to leave, Caleb followed her to the bottom of the staircase.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low. “Would you be down for a late-night second dinner?”

Her dark eyes glittered. “More food? Absolutely I would.”

“Great.” Caleb nodded nonchalantly. “I’ll come grab you in twenty minutes. Does that sound okay?”

“Sounds Gucci,” MK said. “I’ve got some stuff to take care of, anyway.”

She disappeared up the stairs. Once she was out of sight, Caleb sweet-talked the front desk lady into letting him order takeout on the landline phone (okay, so maybe it was a tad hypocritical to use his physique for personal gain. At least he was self-aware about it!).

Zee was still talking by the time the takeout arrived. Caleb crept past, angling his body so no one would notice the takeout and invite themselves along. A few minutes later, he was knocking on MK’s door, a bag of Chinese food cradled in his arms.

“What have we here?” MK asked as soon as she’d opened the door.

“Hope you’re in the mood for takeout,” he said. “I can never resist dumplings.”

“You? Eating sodium-rich stir-fried food?” MK cocked her head. “No way.”

“Way,” Caleb confirmed, enjoying the surprise on her face. “My dad’s church is pretty diverse. Our piano teacher moved here from China, and she’d invite Dad and the family over for home-cooked meals. Her home-cooked dumplings are a lot healthier than fast-food ones, but hey, let’s just call today a cheat day.”

“I can vibe with that.” MK stepped back and waved an arm. “Anyways, Dracula, you are free to come inside.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to intrude—” Caleb was only now realizing how brazen he’d been, knocking on her door like this. “Seriously, I figured we could sneak this into the arcade. Maybe even outside. It’s still pretty warm.”

“Nope.” MK shook her head. “I’m tired and lazy. Welcome to my crib.”

With no other choice, Caleb stepped inside. Immediately he noticed that her red jacket was lying haphazardly on the floor. He hadn’t noticed that she’d taken it off. Stranger than that, MK’s bed was bare and all the blankets were piled on the floor.

“What?”

“Oh, that’s where I sleep.” MK flopped on the blank mattress. “We can just chill on the bed. It’s like a couch, but wider and bouncier.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Just a habit, I guess?” MK shrugged. “Reminds me of the bean bag I have in my bedroom at home. Heh, I am a sucker for beanbags, let me tell you.”

“That definitely fits with your aesthetic,” Caleb said. It wasn’t hard to picture MK holed up in a dark room, lounging on a beanbag while she browsed the dark web on a jumbo-sized computer monitor.

MK held her hands out expectantly, and Caleb passed her the bag.

“Sit down, dude, make yourself at home,” she said as she dumped out the dumplings. Soy sauce packets rained down onto the mattress.

Caleb hesitated. “I’d rather not.” But where else would he sit? The floor? What was the polite thing to do here?

“Don’t be a weirdo.” MK was already reaching for the TV remote. “You’ll miss all the best parts of the movie if you’re sitting on the floor.”

It was like she’d read his mind. Caleb took a seat and made sure to put a generous distance between himself and MK. Stay chill, he reminded himself. He had self-control. He would stick to his principles. Plus, MK seemed preoccupied with scouring the TV for movies.

“What are we thinking?” she asked, her eyes glued to the TV screen.

“Romcom?” Caleb suggested. Oops, maybe that wasn’t the wisest decision. Earlier, MK had explained her guilty pleasure to him, and he wanted to see what exactly made romcoms so fun for her.

“A man after my own heart.” MK smiled wickedly, and Caleb knew he’d made the right choice.

He divided up the dumplings and rice while MK selected the movie. The opening credits had barely ended before MK was yelling obscenities at the screen. She rolled her eyes at every cheesy pickup line. It made Caleb smile. The writing didn’t seem too terrible to him. His main issue was the gratuitous shots of the romantic leads’ toned bodies.

“Put a shirt on!” he called when the male lead appeared with only a towel around his waist.

“Literally,” MK agreed, eyeing him.

Caleb had to laugh. It was a good thing to know that they were on the same page.

Okay, so when was Caleb gonna drop the act and make a move?

MK was the queen of romcoms. They were stupid, buuuuut they had to be rooted in reality, right? And in the movies, if one character invited the other over for a movie night, they always had illicit intentions (just like in Shoeless, when Cheri tried to make the moves on the gay guy. Fortunately, MK knew that Caleb wasn’t gay).

Caleb was putting on a hard-to-get routine, judging by how hesitant he’d been to sit on her bed. That was whatever. He’d called his last few girlfriends “too handsy,” and MK was not about to act like a desperate handsy whore. She’d bide her time, wait for him to make the first move… but how long was that gonna take?

The dumplings dwindled and the movie wore on. It wasn’t as good as Shoeless. It was the kind of stupid that was so dumb it wasn’t even funny. MK and Caleb poked fun at every little detail, but that wasn’t enough for MK. Any moment now would be a great time for Caleb to distract her, tilt her head towards his, and show her a good time.

Maybe he’s waiting until the end credits, MK figured. Ugh. If I’d known that, I would’ve picked a shorter movie.

When MK had polished off her food, she cleared the takeout boxes onto the nightstand. Didn’t want that getting in the way if they were going to be making out after this. Or something.

And then, finally, finally, the movie ended. The love interests kissed in front of a sunset, and the music score swelled with naive hopefulness.

“They’re gonna get divorced by the time they’re thirty,” MK predicted.

“Most definitely,” Caleb agreed.

MK made a show of fake stretching. She let her arm brush against Caleb’s and stared intently at him. “Well?”

He stared back. “Well, what?”

Her heart was pounding in her chest. Be normal, she told herself. This was chill, this was cool, this was whatever. This was what teenagers did. 

“You call the shots, big guy,” MK said nonchalantly. “What’s next?”

Caleb sat perfectly upright like a little church boy listening to a gospel choir. When he spoke, he said, “So, where are you from?”

“Huh?” That came out of nowhere. “Toronto, just like ninety percent of the Canadian population.”

Caleb laughed. “Cool. I’m from Quebec.”

How far was Quebec from Toronto? MK didn’t know off the top of her head, nor did she care to do the math.

“Why do you care?” she asked. “What’s your angle here?”

Caleb didn’t answer right away. His smile faded into something more cautious, and he picked at a loose string on the mattress. MK practically held her breath (or she would have, if that hadn’t been so terribly cliche). What would he say?

Finally, he spoke. “I like spending time with you. I guess I hoped I’d get to know you a little better after the show.”

Ho-ly shit.

“Wow,” MK said, drawing out the word as she scootched closer to him. “It’s funny, because I was thinking the same thing.”

“Really?” Caleb’s eyes widened like this was the most jumpscare-y plot twist of all time.

“Sure,” MK said. “But I sure hope your definition of ‘getting to know me’ doesn’t just involve asking for my address.”

Damn, that was smooth, even if MK did say so herself. The same part of her brain that blessed her with sarcasm skills must have also blessed her with secret, bonus flirting skills.

“Definitely not.” Caleb was still picking at the mattress. “Um, but I just wanted to clarify, so we’re on the same page, this doesn’t have to be that serious.”

“Not serious,” MK repeated.

“Yeah. No need to get so intense so fast. We’re just casually talking, getting to know each other. No major commitments.”

“Casual?” That was the magic word. MK understood now. This was really happening. Caleb was down for this just as much as she was. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

It was like her body was on autopilot. In the next moment, she lunged forward and kissed him.

Chapter Text

The kiss was dozens of feelings compressed into a single moment. Surprising? Enticing. Warm, sweet. Caleb’s immediate instinct was more. To lean into this, wrap his arms around MK, throw away all his pride… Pride. Her knuckles grazed against his collarbone.

This isn’t supposed to be happening. In the next instant, fear crashed in like a tidal wave. Caleb was drowning, and he jerked away from MK.

“What are you doing?” he gasped.

MK sat back, eyebrows furrowed. She looked more confused than anything else. “Kissing you first? That was the whole point of your hard-to-get routine, right?”

“Hard-to—huh?” Caleb’s mind was spinning. “When did I say I wanted to kiss you?”

“You literally just did!” The confusion on MK’s face was morphing into something harder, more defensive. “You said you wanted something casual, no major commitments.”

Caleb got off the mattress, just in case she tried something else on him. MK tried to kiss me. That was sinking in now. How could she do that? 

“Yeah, casual!” he snapped back. “That doesn’t mean making out! That means getting to know each other, talking on the phone, skipping rocks on the lake. Stuff like that!”

MK laughed, a dry and sarcastic sound. “What world do you live in, dude? Even the most braindead incel could figure out that ‘casual’ is code word for hooking up. Y’know the frat bros and the cheerleaders that bring home a different person every weekend? That’s casual.”

Her words were a thousand papercuts to his soul. Caleb found himself physically flinching.

“I told you I didn’t want that,” he said.

“Handsy girlfriends, yeah yeah. I thought that just meant that you didn’t want to sleep with them.”

“You have the auditory comprehension of a twig,” Caleb snarled, clenching his fists. “My last few girlfriends didn’t respect me, so I created boundaries. I don’t kiss people unless I’m dating them. End of story.”

“Oh, so now you’re pretentious and a prude.” MK leaped to her feet, wobbling on the mattress. She now towered over Caleb, and they glared at each other. “Y’know, when guys talk about having a million crazy ex-girlfriends, usually it means they’re the problem.”

A boiling rage was bubbling in Caleb’s chest. He was the problem? Clearly, yeah. Clearly he was insane for wanting to date and not hook up. Clearly he was demented for wanting someone to see him as a person.

“You have no right to say that to me!” His hands flew to his temple, as if he could block out her accusations. “You weren’t there.”

“You probably lead all those girls on,” MK said. “‘Oh, I’m just looking for something casual!’ Then complain when a girl makes out with you. It’s so hard being so gorgeous all the time. I was totally right to vote you out first.”

It was time to go. If Caleb didn’t leave now, he was going to do something drastic. He grunted in frustration and stormed to the door.

“And don’t come back!” MK taunted him from the bed.

“Wasn’t planning on it!” Caleb slammed the door shut behind him and stalked down the hallway. The gym had to be open.

His mind was loud. Loud with his ex-girlfriends who had begged and begged to do all sorts of stuff with him, like that was the only thing he had to offer. Loud with all the other girls at school clamoring for his attention.  He was a statue, or a prize. Kiss and run, that’s what they wanted. 

And now it seemed that MK was just like the rest of them.

Chapter Text

With eight hours of beauty sleep under her belt, Nichelle was feeling fabulous—or, at least, as fabulous as a person could be when they’d recently been humiliated on national television. 

But yesterday she might have found her true calling as a dating coach! As soon as possible, she was going to call her agent about starting a new reality dating show—but instead of participating, Nichelle would host! It was fabulous!

The fabulousness dissipated once she reached breakfast. At first glance, things looked normal—Ripper was tormenting Zee with a carton of whole-fat milk, Scary Girl was reading tarot cards to Axel, and Wayne and Raj were slathering mashed bananas on each others’ faces.

Amidst all the breakfast cheer, however, was MK. Her toque was pulled low over her brow, her collar obscured half her face in shadow, and she was stabbing her fork into a stack of chocolate chip pancakes.

“That’s… weird,” Nichelle murmured, rubbing her chin thoughtfully (it was giving Hot Teen Ninja Detective Squad, honestly). She’d seen MK upset before, but not recently. Had something happened? With Caleb?

Where was Mr. Tall, Dark, and Hunky, anyway? Not at the buffet, not at the table, not anywhere. That wasn’t necessarily a bad omen—perhaps he was late, or he’d already eaten breakfast. But Caleb’s conspicuous absence, combined with MK’s grim expression, was enough to make Nichelle put on her prop detective hat and jump to conclusions. Her career as a dating coach hung in the balance, after all.

Nichelle took her pick from the buffet and seated herself a few tables away, angling herself so that she could sneakily sneak sneaky looks at MK.

What is with her? she wondered as she took a sip of her low-carb smoothie.

“Yo yo yo, Damien is in the waffle house!” Damien sauntered into the dining room, looking as cheerful as a D-list actor who’d just landed a part as an extra in an Adam Sandler movie.

Curiouser and curiouser. He’d make the perfect accomplice to her caper. So while Damien was shoveling sausage and bacon onto his plate, Nichelle grabbed his arm and dragged him to her table.

“Hey!” he whined. “I didn’t even get to the chocolate chip pancakes!”

“You’ll get your pancakes,” Nichelle whispered. “But only after you agree to help me.”

“Help you?” Damien looked around. “With what? ‘Cause I’m down for a lot of stuff, but if Scary Girl is involved, I’m out.”

Nichelle lowered her voice the way she did when she was performing some scary-dramatic role. “With MK and Caleb.”

Damien’s eyes widened to the size of camera lenses. “Woah woah woah. Girl, are you telling me there’s something goin’ on between them?”

“There was.” Nichelle angled her fork in MK’s direction. “And now she’s brooding at the breakfast table and he’s nowhere to be found.”

“He did seem kinda distracted yesterday.” Damien nodded thoughtfully as he cut into his sausage links. “And last night, I was gettin’ ready for bed and heard a loud slam from the room next to mine.”

“Caleb’s room,” Nichelle muttered. The pieces were puzzling together in her brain. Oh yes, she was so good at this. Maybe in addition to being a dating coach, she’d call for a new season of HTNDS.

“Oh well. I’m sure whatever happened is none of our business—”

“Damien!” Nichelle said so abruptly that he dropped his sausage-laden fork. “Don’t you realize we have a duty to get these two together?”

His eyebrows rose. “We?”

“Aren’t you curious?” she continued. “You’re a clever guy. If you help me piece together the information, we could come up with a solution. We’d be heroes!”

“You’re weirdly invested in this.”

“Well, I am their dating coach,” she said modestly. Damien looked like he was about to question that, so Nichelle added, “I told Caleb to get takeout with her last night.”

“And he took your advice?”

“Of course he did! I give great advice!”

Damien rolled a hand across his face. “Okay. Alright. So, what’s the next step in this crazy scheme of yours?”

“You talk to Caleb,” Nichelle said, “and I’ll talk to MK. We need to get both sides of the story and piece together what happened.”

“Is MK going to talk to you?”

“Of course she is!” she lied.

“And is Caleb gonna talk to me?”

“Sure will! He’s probably off sulking somewhere, waiting for someone as kind as you to ask what’s wrong.”

Caleb didn’t mean to skip breakfast. Once he was in the gym, however, he found it impossible to leave. He was in the zone. Every rep made his muscles ache, a welcome distraction from the way his heart ached now.

He’d woken this morning feeling like he’d crawled out of a street fight. And when he’d recollected what had happened? That once again, a girl had blatantly disrespected him and his boundaries? That is had been MK of all people—aloof, devious, unassuming MK? Well. That’s why he was in the gym.

How could she do this to me? And why couldn’t Caleb stop thinking about it? This was worse, so much worse than being voted off first. If only Bowie hadn’t been such a scheming snake. If only he’d kept his guard up and stayed away.

The gym doors opened. Caleb heard them, but he didn’t turn around.

“Caleb? That you? Yo, my man, what’s up?”

Damien. Caleb straightened. He really, really didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. 

“Hey,” he said curtly. “Give me a moment, I’ll be out of your hair.” Nothing personal, honest; Damien could work out alone if he wanted to.

“What? You’re leaving?”

Caleb shrugged.

“Are you okay, bro?” Damien asked, his brow furrowed.

“Yeah. All good. I was just finishing up anyway.”

“Cool! Headed up to breakfast, then? It’s delicious today. I highly recommend the chocolate chip pancakes.” Damien blew a chef’s kiss.

“Actually I was just gonna shower. Maybe read a book or something.” Of course that wasn’t true. There were no books in this desolate hotel. Caleb would have to settle for watching a movie and wallowing.

“Good action plan.” Damien trotted alongside Caleb as they left the gym. Caleb drew in a breath. Wasn’t it obvious that he wanted to be alone right now? Had Damien always been this oblivious? Unless… was there something more sinister afoot?

Caleb halted and eyed Damien suspiciously. “Did MK send you?”

“Nope. Why? Did MK do something terrible to you that would warrant her to send a third party to talk to you?”

Stupid, Caleb, stupid. “No. Don’t worry about it, Damien.”

He turned on his heel, but Damien still didn’t leave.

“I’m frontin’, man. MK didn’t send me—Nichelle did.”

“Ha!” A bitter laugh escaped Caleb before he could help it. “Why, so she can do damage control?” That was rich. Nichelle and her stupid advice. Whole reason he was in this mess, wasn’t it?

“I think her heart was in the right place. Sure, she’s a little out of touch, but now she’s actually concerned. And now that I kinda-sorta know what’s up, I’m a little concerned, too.”

No, it would be too easy to pin everything on Nichelle. But maybe he should be thanking her for exposing MK as shallow and selfish before something worse happened. MK was the villain here.

“Listen, bro, my friend Brightly is always complaining about how guys don’t know how to express their emotions. So I’m just giving you an outlet to express yours.”

And was it even MK’s fault she sucked? Maybe Caleb only had himself to blame. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. He should’ve been smarter.

They’d reached Caleb’s hotel room. Damien was waiting expectantly for a response, but Caleb didn’t want to give one. Finally, he said, “As it turns out, I was right to distrust my teammates.” Then he walked into the room and shut Damien out.

He heard Damien’s muffled complaints through the other side of the door: “Whatever! I tried my best! Let the record show—I tried my best!”

His footsteps receded down the hall. Caleb took a breath. This was as close to peace as he was gonna get. Time for a shower.

The water didn’t help with anything. As he massaged hotel-brand shampoo into his hair, Caleb replayed the conversation over and over in his head. What right did MK have to get defense? She was the one who’d tried to kiss him! Out of nowhere!

When he emerged, clean and fully clothed, Caleb settled on his bed and grabbed the remote. He hated feeling like a couch potato, but maybe he’d earned one lazy day.

As he began to flick through movie options, Caleb’s gaze drifted down and settled on the counter underneath the TV. There, sitting and watching, was the stuffed duck that MK had gifted him two days ago. Caleb hadn’t even noticed it when he’d stormed in last night.

“Stupid stuffed duck!” He clenched his fist. What right did it have to be so cute and wholesome when MK was the exact opposite?

Acting on impulse, Caleb lunged across the bed. He grabbed the duck by the throat and hurled it into the waste bin. It could rot there, for all he cared.

MK’s life sucked. Majorly. It sucked so much that MK had considered skipping breakfast, but tossing and turning all night apparently worked up an appetite. So here she was, shoveling chocolate chip pancakes into her mouth and pretending everything was business as usual.

I hate men.

No one tried to talk to her, so MK stewed in silence. Her hurt had dampened overnight, but with each bite of her breakfast, it flickered back to life. Misreading signals—ha! He’d just chickened out when push came to shove. What a sob-story excuse. Flirted with her, bought her Chinese food, then didn’t want to seal the deal?

Maybe he’s… y’know. As soon as the thought popped into her mind, MK glanced up to see if Raj had somehow intuited it. Fortunately, he was stacking kiwis on his eyelids, unbothered and oblivious. Phew. MK wouldn’t be getting canceled on Tweeter today—at least, not for assuming Caleb was gay simply because he refused to make out with her.

MK tore into her next pancake. Maybe I should make him jealous. He needs to see what he’s missing. Her eyes wandered from Raj to Raj’s Clone. What if she swapped spit with Wayne? He wasn’t as hulkingly massive, but if MK was trying to leave this island with experience, he’d probably be down to clown.

Too bad he’s a moron. At least Caleb had been decently smart. That was one of the qualities that had helped her realize how hot he was in the first place.

So all in all, everything sucked.

After chowing down—on two helpings of pancake because why the hell not?—MK headed straight back to her room. It was the one place she could guarantee that she wouldn’t run into Caleb—even if the bare mattress was now tainted with memories of Caleb’s hot body and crocodile tears.

And then, when she had opened the door to the stairwell: “MK, girl!”

Damnit. Maybe she’d spoken too soon about the whole ‘no one tried to talk to her’ thing. The last thing MK wanted right now was to talk with Nichelle, so she pretended she was deaf and kept walking.

“Wait up!”

If I keep up the deaf charade, maybe I can sue her for ableism. But MK felt her resolve crumble. She needed to give up the fight. Let’s get this over with.

“Wow, Nichelle,” she said with the most stilted deadpan she could muster, “I was just on my way to your room because I wanted to talk to you so bad. How did you know.”

“I knew it!” Nichelle flounced ahead of MK and stopped in front of her room’s door. “Come in, come in!”

MK actually considered it. Yeah, this was Nichelle, but at least her room hadn’t recently had Caleb in it (as far as MK knew). Plus, this would be the perfect opportunity to steal things. And if Nichelle tried to put makeup on her or something, it wasn’t like anything would stop her from leaving.

So MK stepped inside.

“I wanted your opinion on the newest revision of my script,” Nichelle babbled.

“Mm-hmm,” MK hummed. Her eyes scanned the room for anything of value. The bedspread was heinously unkempt (Nichelle was probably used to housekeeping cleaning up after her) but aside from that, the room barely looked lived-in. No earrings, jewelry, or undergarments for MK to sell to (depraved) rabid fans.

Meanwhile, Nichelle was flipping through the Princess Assassin script and pointing at random paragraphs. “…look at this! It’s supposed to be a romance movie, right, but then the main couple gets into an argument and breaks up. For good! Clichè, don’t you think?”

Oh. MK’s skin prickled. Now she saw the trap for what it was. Nichelle was probing her for information. Not good.

“Shit happens,” she replied as casually as possible. I don’t care about your fake movie or your lame opinions.

“How would you resolve the conflict? Asking for the writers, of course.”

Alright, no more Mr. Nice MK. If she continued playing coy, she was bound to slip up. Time to be blunt.

“Stay out of my business, Nichelle,” she sneered.

Nichelle’s whole face brightened as if MK had made some world-shattering revelation. “What happened? How can I help?”

“You can’t.” MK shoved her hands into her pockets and took a step towards the door.

“Yes I can! This is my new calling. What did Caleb say?”

So she knew. Whatever—Nichelle was shit at fight scenes, and MK was gonna kick her ass.

Side-step the question. “What’s your damage, Nichelle? You realize you’re some second-rate actress and now you’re trying to fix my life? Compensate much?”

That threw her opponent through a loop. “I am trying to move past that.”

Weaksauce. Time to land a blow. 

“Well too bad you suck. At everything.” MK curled her lip. “You’re bad at acting, you’re bad at giving advice, you’re bad at interrogating people. Why don’t you just do us all a favor and jump into the lake?” Go in for the kill. “At least that’ll wash off all your bad makeup.”

Nichelle blinked—and then burst into tears. She blundered past MK, out the door, and down the hallway, crying her eyes out.

“K.O.,” MK muttered. She couldn’t bring herself to give a damn.

At least she was alone. In Nichelle’s room. Sweet. MK slammed the door shut and locked it. MK in da room; what crimes will she commit?

Unfortunately, MK was still too mad to commit crimes. She went in the bathroom to squeeze all the toothpaste into the toilet. If only she could dump this all on Caleb’s head. As fun as it would be to humiliate him, she didn’t want to see him ever again. How humiliating.

At one point, there was a knock on the door. But instead of Nichelle, it was just a housekeeper coming to take out the trash. MK yelled at her to get lost. Not even innocent hotel staff would escape her wrath today.

Chapter Text

Usually, when Nichelle had to conjure up waterworks during filming, she’d think about starving kittens or a chipped nail. Now, however, the tears flowed freely. She cried and cried and cried. And hiccupped. And then cried some more.

When a break came in the tears, she looked up and whimpered, “S-sorry if I got snot on your jacket.”

“Uh, don’t worry about it.” Damien patted Nichelle on the back. “I’m used to it.”

“I just feel so pathetic!” Nichelle wailed, and the tears came rushing back.

They’d agreed to meet up in the lobby to compare notes and figure out their next steps. Unfortunately, none of that was possible because Nichelle had her face buried in Damien’s shoulder. It was impossible to talk strategy when she was sniveling like an idiot. At least Damien was kind enough to comfort her.

“What happened?”

Huh? The voice was too grating to be Damien’s. Momentarily distracted, Nichelle looked up to find Axel staring at her. She was perched on the backrest of the adjacent couch, whittling a spear and watching.

“I was attacked by a horrible monster!” Nichelle cried.

Axel’s eyes lit up.

“She means MK,” Damien added, and Axel’s expression fell flat once more.

“MK said I was bad at everything I do!” Nichelle sniffled, and Damien passed her a tissue. When she wiped her face, a faceful of foundation, mascara, tears, and snot came away on the tissue.

“Philanthropy is hard work!” Nichelle continued, hiccuping again. “No one appreciates how hard I’m trying! This is all Gerry’s fault!”

Axel rolled her eyes. “What provoked MK?”

“Why do you want to know?” Damien asked.

“I make it my business to know these things,” Axel said cryptically. She looked so serious that for a moment, Nichelle could picture her as the take-no-prisoners action heroine. The thought was so amusing that Nichelle giggled.

Her tears disappeared long enough for Nichelle to explain the drama between MK and Caleb, Nichelle’s calling to be a dating coach, and their respective interrogations.

“And did you learn anything?” Axel asked.

“Caleb wouldn’t talk.” Damien’s eyes flicked from Nichelle to Axel. “He said—well, he just said that he was right to not trust his teammates or something.”

“And MK just yelled at me.” Nichelle sighed and detached herself from Damien. Now that she felt calmer, she hugged her legs against herself and sunk into the couch.

“This is a fool’s errand,” Axel said matter-of-factly. “You’re better off doing something useful, like prepping for the apocalypse.” She flipped her pocket knife. It twirled in the air, and she deftly caught it. Intriguing.

“I think it’s good to check up on people when they’re hurting,” Damien countered. “But if neither of them wants to talk, there’s nothing we can do.”

“I’m starting to think it would be toxic to pair up MK and Caleb,” Nichelle said, frowning. “MK is just so nasty! I couldn’t subject Caleb to that. He’s too nice.”

“They both have excellent survival instincts,” Axel mused. “In the event of a nuclear fallout, I’d want them on my side.”

“What about us?” Damien asked.

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Gee, thanks.” Nichelle sighed dejectedly. “This is so sad! If I’m done being the number one MKaleb stan, I’ll need to find something else to occupy my time.” She could only read lines for so long until she got double-vision.

“Oh! Oh!” Damien perked up. “Maybe we could organize a Dungeons and Flying Lizards campaign with the whole group!”

“The whole group?” Nichelle asked. “Even Lauren?”

“Um… certain people excluded. We’d need to brainstorm a storyline before beginning the game, though.” Damien’s eyes were sparkling with creativity. It was a good look on him. “Axel, you could help me plan since you know everything about weapons and armor. Nichelle, you know all about scripts and editing—you could help, too!”

“I’m intrigued,” Nichelle said. If anyone else had suggested this, she would’ve passed, but Damien managed to make tabletop roleplay games sound exciting.

“I might as well help,” Axel said, crossing her arms. “You’d both be hopelessly lost without me.”

“Hey, slow your roll! We both outlasted you in the competition!” Damien poked back.

Axel growled at him, and Nichelle laughed. She felt a lot better.

Dinner was awful.

MK had successfully avoided the cafeteria around lunchtime: she’d offered Scary Girl some “voodoo hair” (from Nichelle’s shower drain) in exchange for a sandwich. But now it was dinner time, and that freak of nature was nowhere to be found.

Sure, MK had access to Nichelle’s credit card and could order a buffet straight to the door, but after nearly half a day, she was getting sick of Nichelle’s room. Also, if she avoided everyone for the rest of the day, people might think she’d died. So MK braced herself and headed downstairs.

Not everyone had arrived at the cafeteria yet. Nichelle, Damien, and Axel had already served themselves and were chit-chatting at the center table. A few tables down, Scary Girl sat alone. Was anyone else here? MK’s eyes drifted to the lefthand buffet… oh shit.

As luck would have it, there was Caleb, helping himself to a serving of lemon chicken. MK’s heart dropped in her chest. His back was to her and he looked looming, ominous. When he turned, MK looked away. But she could feel his eyes on her. No one ever looked at her that way, like a spotlight was blinding her.

Ignore him. He’s the arrogant one here. MK marched toward the buffet, steadfastly refusing to even look at him. The spotlight feeling disappeared, but she still felt anger crackling off of him; MK could only hope hers was just as potent.

She picked food randomly. Salad, Hawaiian pizza, buffalo wings, not lemon chicken.

Now it was time to pick a seat.

“Caleb! Come sit with us!” Nichelle waved him over. She didn’t even acknowledge MK.

The snub was intentional. Whatever. MK had raided that prissy queen’s entire hotel room, so who had really won today?

Caleb settled (stoic and silent, MK noticed) at the popular kids’ table. That left MK with no choice. Well, there were dozens of tables in here, and therefore dozens of choices, but she’d only draw more attention to herself if she sat alone. So, well. She slid into the seat beside Scary Girl’s.

“Heyyyy.”

“The hair didn’t work, you know.” Scary Girl bared her teeth. “My poison didn’t kill anybody.”

Kill me now.

More people filtered in. Raj, Wayne, and Zee all elected to sit with Caleb and Nichelle. Ripper plopped himself on the other side of Scary Girl. MK had been reduced to the same level of infamy as a fart monster and a psycho-killer. How lovely.

“So, MK, what have you been up to?” Ripper asked.

“Bug off,” MK said.

Ripper scowled. “Tie a fart record, get yelled at. Eat a tapeworm, get yelled at. Try to be nice to others, get yelled at. Honestly, I can’t win with you people!”

Scary Girl dramatically inhaled through her nostrils. “Doesn’t MK just smell delicious?” she asked Ripper. “I can practically taste the negative energy in her sweat!”

MK did not want to be smelled by Scary Girl, so she scooted as far away as possible from her.

The other table was obnoxiously loud. They chattered so loudly it sounded like everyone there was life-long friends (even though that was only true for Wayne and Raj). It was the type of noise that ostracized you, even if you had no desire to be in the in-group in the first place. 

We don’t want you here, they were saying to MK, Ripper, and Scary Girl. And even though MK didn’t want to be wanted, she still hated Caleb for putting her in this position.

MK was used to blending in. She was unpopular in the sense that nobody knew who she was. Now, she felt unpopular in the sense that everyone hated her. Maybe that was paranoia—why would Wayne, Raj, or Zee ever care about her petty drama with Caleb?

After dinner, MK followed the crowd to the hotel lobby. She was curious. Which loser was getting voted off tonight?

Ripper, Raj, and Wayne were making bets.

“Ten bucks for Bowie!” Ripper cheered.

“No!” Raj wailed. “Anyone but Bowie!”

“I’ll take that action, eh?”

“Wayne!”

“Sorry, Rajie. Ten bucks is ten bucks!”

No way was Bowie losing tonight. MK scooted closer so that she could snatch Ripper’s wallet when he inevitably lost the bet. In the back of her mind, she wished she had someone to puzzle with. Before, she’d shared all her ideas and predictions with Caleb. She didn’t feel much like talking with anyone else.

Her gaze flicked to him, just for a moment. He was stone-faced and listening to Axel and Nichelle chatter (or, rather, Nichelle chattered while Axel offered one-word responses). That sick freak, interacting with people and pretending everything was fine.

Finally, the doors swung open. MK took in his red hoodie and ugly pants and placed a name to the tomato-stained face—Chase.

“Woah, my man,” Zee said. “What gives?”

“Dude, you lost?” Ripper groaned.

“Guys, the most upsetting thing just happened.” Chase held up a soggy slice of pizza. “Chris gave me a whole box of ‘za, but the Drone of Despair left it behind!”

“Nooooo!” Zee wailed, dropping to his knees.

“Pathetic,” MK muttered.

“What happened?” Axel asked, her tone as deadly serious as if she was inquiring about a murder instead of a game show.

“The challenge was standing on poles. For eight. Hours. Straight. It was lowkey lame.” Chase finally took a bite of his pizza and continued talking while he chewed. “Like sure, some people fell in the water, but it was just a lot of standing. If I’d been in charge, I would’ve added more extreme elements, like robo-sharks or attack helicopters!”

“Who won immunity?” Damien asked. “How did you get eliminated?”

“Emma won, I think? I don’t know how. I stopped paying attention after Chris brought out the pizza. Oh, yeah! That’s the most important part!” Chase grinned. “Emma and I got into a huge shouting match. Like, it was totally hot. And I guess she thought it was hot, too, ‘cause during the elimination ceremony she kissed me, and now we’re back together.” He crammed the rest of the pizza into his mouth. “Or something.”

“Ugh.” Axel and Nichelle groaned, and MK had to agree. If this was true (and not some bogus lie like Ripper kissing Julia), then Emma was utterly hopeless.

“High five, dude!” Ripper smacked Chase in the face.

Chase didn’t seem to notice. “I know, right? I can’t wait until she gets eliminated.”

“Wouldn’t you want your girlfriend to win?” Axel asked skeptically.

“Ppsh, nah. I’d rather have Emma here so we can make out all night.” Chase winked, and MK resisted the urge to vomit in her mouth. “She doesn’t need the money anyway. We’re already world-famous content creators!”

It was at this point that Caleb piped up, “Oh, so you don’t actually want what’s best for Emma. You’re just using her to make yourself feel good.”

Um, what was that? MK narrowed her eyes.

“No I’m not!” Chase protested. “She wants me just as bad. The feeling is mutual!”

“Doesn’t make it any better,” Caleb grumbled. “Poor Emma.”

The whole group dissolved into chatter at that point. This was MK’s cue to slip away. Instead of going upstairs, however, she headed outside to ruminate. 

Caleb had been vaguing her, she was sure of it.

“‘You’re just using her to make yourself feel good,’” she muttered. “Get off your high horse!” That’s just what teenagers did: they made out and took off each other’s clothes and whatever. Sorry if Caleb was too much of a baby to understand that.

That being said, it wasn’t like MK was jumping to Chase’s defense. He was a terrible person. Cutting Emma’s breaks sounded hilarious, yeah, but still objectively terrible. He was a moron and an idiot and his desperate ex just kept throwing herself at his feet.

The summer wind followed her to the back of the building. Chase… terrible person… that was how Caleb saw her. Which, duh, she hacked computers and stole wallets for a living. But this was a different kind of terrible altogether. The kind of terrible even MK didn’t want to be associated with.

Chase and I are totally different people, she told herself. She was smart, and Chase was dumb. But how much did their differences matter if people (Caleb) lumped them together?

“Who cares?” she said out loud. “He’s still a self-righteous, wishy-washy asshole!”

The trees and lake and stars gave no response. Was it too much to ask for a response?

She’d reached the concrete lot behind the hotel. Here there was a dumpster; acting on autopilot, MK climbed up the side. Dumpster diving wasn’t her preferred MO, but the first time she’d tried it, she’d found a whole ass wallet. Ever since then, MK made a point to peruse the trash.

Was it worth it? she wondered as she stood knee-deep in trash. They’d been getting along fine as friends. Had had she really needed to feel his lips on hers so desperately?

The dumpster was disappointing. Tissues, tampons, toothbrushes. A bag of rotting dinner food. Nothing worth selling. Why was she even out here, anyway? Time to cut her losses and return empty-handed.

And then she saw it: a stuffed duck, limp between two overflowing trash bags. MK knew what it was, and she stared it down. Had he thrown it out? Seriously? What right did he have to throw out her duck?

MK didn’t leave empty-handed, after all.

Chapter Text

Damien had spent the better half of yesterday prepping the campaign. Axel and Nichelle had chimed in with ideas as they saw fit, but ultimately he’d been the one to write up the plot outline, hash out the character sheets, and craft paper dice. So yeah, this campaign was feeling like his baby.

And now it was time to introduce everyone else to his child.

He couldn’t just wait for the opportune moment—he had to create it. As lunch was wrapping up, Damien forced himself to approach his arch-nemesis.

“Hey, Scary Girl!” He kept his hands behind his back so she wouldn’t realize how violently they shook. “The concierge just told me that there’s a mouse decomposing right in front of the hotel!”

Her head snapped up. “Really?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh goody! Dessert!” In the next moment, Scary Girl was skipping out of the dining room.

“Phew,” Damien muttered. As soon as she was gone, Damien hopped up on his chair and yelled: “Attention, competitors of Total Drama!”

Everyone stared up at him. Some were curious, some were confused, and some looked annoyed. Don’t let the haters win, Damien. He continued with his announcement:

“If you have endless hours of free time after lunch—which is all of us—I have taken the liberty of putting together a Dungeons and Flying Lizards campaign. Everyone is welcome to join!”

“Dungeons and Flying Lizards? What does that mean, Damien?” Nichelle asked, wide-eyed. Her question was, in fact, scripted. Nichelle had insisted on feigning surprise to ‘provide exposition’ to the audience. Yeah, girl was nuttier than she let on.

“Excellent question, my friend,” Damien said, rocking back and forth on his chair (another one of Nichelle’s ideas. She claimed it would enhance his ‘stage presence’). “Dungeons and Flying Lizards is a tabletop roleplay game. Each of you plays a character, and then you control that character’s decisions and work together as a team to reach the end goal. So what do you say? Who’s down?”

“I am excited to play,” Axel said with the exact inflection of a person forced at gunpoint to read a movie script.

“Uh, I’m gonna sit this one out, broski.” Raj rubbed his temple and winced. “Got a migraine coming on, heh.”

“Everyone, make way!” Wayne screamed. “Raj has a migraine!”

Raj headed out the door, and Ripper followed after him. “This sounds like nerd stuff! Barf!”

No one would miss Ripper. Damien counted heads. One, two, three, four, five, six, plus himself… he paused. “Only seven? Where’s Chase?”

“He left a while ago, man,” Zee said, sipping a strawberry soda. “Got addicted to the claw machine downstairs.”

Of course, Chase would be the one to get addicted to gambling. Damien resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Good luck facing off against the law of averages, man.

“Alright, that’s six players plus me as the Dungeon Overlord.” Damien finally hopped off the chair. “We can make this work.”

As the waitstaff cleared away the buffet and dirty plates, everyone gathered around a table. Damien passed out the character cards that he had so lovingly designed the day before. They were just detailed enough to work efficiently in the campaign without making it look like Damien was obsessed.

“Hold on.” Caleb studied the character he’d received. “I thought people usually make their own characters when they play games like this.”

“I’d like to be a warlock,” Zee said. “Or maybe a druid. Or just a regular ol’ pizza guy.”

“We decided to use pre-made templates so we can skip straight to gameplay,” Damien explained. He loved character design as much as the next person, but if Zee was any indication, customization would take hours, and by then everyone might lose interest in the actual story.

Damien cleared his throat and began a modified-for-six-people version of the opening monologue he’d prepared:

A brute with a jaded past. 

A medic with an unshakeable grudge.

A wizard with a damaged reputation.

An artificer with a trove of secrets.

A monk with no regard for his vows.

A warrior with no home to return to.

Six formidable anti-heroes. One impossible challenge. This crew is the only one tough enough to take on the hunt for a million gold pieces—if they don’t kill each other first.

“Why would we kill each other, eh?” Wayne asked. “I love Zee. He’s my buddy!”

“Part of the story arc is that our characters don’t get along,” Axel snapped.

Zee and Nichelle jumped in with their own two cents. Even as the squabble reached a crescendo, however, MK and Caleb remained noticeably silent. They were separated only by Zee, and Damien really hoped that would be enough to deter animosity. Secretly, he had been hoping that one or both of them would decline his invitation. But they were here, and now Damien’s only hope was that they’d keep the blood bath in the game.

“Let’s just start,” Axel yelled, suddenly silencing all discussion. 

Damien jumped in his seat, then cleared his throat and began narrating. “Nestled in the bustling streets of Amstercram is a leaky old tavern. The clock tower chimes—it’s just past eight bells, and your crew has gathered around a dimly lit table in the back to discuss their mission.”

“Roll to order food,” Zee said.

With a delicate roll of the paper dice, the campaign began.

The general plot was simple, if not condensed to fit a single session. The nefarious Duke Bowbow and Queen 'Lia (no relation to any persons live or dead) were gearing up to unleash an addictive drug on the country of Cretch. To stop the bioweapon, the six players would need to brave the stormy oceans, trek through a snowy mountain range, and infiltrate the fortified North Tower. There awaited an antidote that would save Cretch. Each location brought with it a host of threats, from sea monsters to hidden chasms to antagonistic armies.

It took a few minutes (more like a half hour) for everyone to get on the same page. MK, who was playing as Mercy the Medic, kept threatening to inject her allies with poisonous syringes. Axel (Axe the Barbarian) interrupted every time Damien misidentified a weapon, and Zee (Zebulon the Artificer) didn’t understand that he had to wait his turn during turn-based battles. 

And sometimes the players skipped important scenes entirely.

“The crew reaches the docks, seemingly deserted, where their chartered boat the Fairwind awaits to cross the False Sea.” Damien spoke in an ominous tone so that they’d understand that the dock wasn’t actually deserted.

“Royal Wizard Goldie the Wise raises her staff and casts a teleportation spell, whisking everyone safely onto the ship,” Nichelle declared.

Damien stared at her. “You don’t have a teleportation spell!”

“Yes, I do. I snuck it onto my character sheet yesterday.” Nichelle smiled smugly at him.

“Oh. Let me see that.” Damien reached across the table, but Nichelle held her character sheet out of arm’s reach.

MK groaned. “Just let Royal Loser Goldie the Lame teleport us.”

And so Damien reluctantly passed the twenty-sided die to Nichelle. “Roll to cast your spell.” Hopefully she would roll a low number.

Nichelle rolled. “Twenty! Yes! Royal Wizard Goldie the Wise does it again!”

Damien sighed. There would be no battle after all. “The spell works perfectly, and Royal Wizard Goldie the Wise whisks all six crew members onto the ship.” 

Usually Damien was a mere player. He was now beginning to appreciate the advantages of being the Dungeon Overlord. Now that he had the game laid out before him, he could observe everyone work together, talk strategy, disagree, and goof off. Each person reacted differently. Zee, for example, treated his character as his child; when Zebulon romanced Axe with a custom-made smoke bomb, he clapped enthusiastically.

“Alright! Now they can have magical babies that fight dragons and stuff.”

“Any magical babies Axe has will be locked in an underground training facility until they are eighteen,” Axel insisted.

Meanwhile, Nichelle and Wayne were the most prone to break character. After vanquishing a sea monster, Royal Wizard Goldie the Wise and Brother Wayne the Monk had a spirited debate about which of them had the more impressive tower.

“Mine has mosaics made of emeralds, sapphires, and rubies,” said Nichelle. “Have you seen Game of Pawns? Picture the queen’s palace.”

“No way, that’s sick. My tower is made of hockey pucks. Have you ever thought about doing a fantasy movie, Nichelle?”

“Wayne!” Damien hissed. “You’re breaking the immersion!”

Finally, there was Caleb, or Scarface the Fighter. He chatted amiably with Zee and Wayne, but during battles a stoic mask fell across his face. MK was just as reserved. She talked with Axel and Zee, but no one else.

With the context of yesterday in mind, Damien watched them especially carefully. When the team survived an ambush on the Northern Shore, MK glanced at Caleb. When they had to camp for the night in a freezing cave, Caleb glanced at MK. Their eyes never met, but all the subtle glances were lowkey making Damien wary, so he hurried along the campaign as best he could.

And then disaster struck.

The crew nabbed the antidote and made a narrow escape from the North Tower. No one made it out unscathed. Royal Wizard Goldie the Wise lost her magic staff and was essentially incapacitated. Brother Wayne was concussed and insisted that he could only talk in rhymes. Axe the Barbarian lost a finger, but Zebulon enchanted a knife to instantly cauterize the wound. Finally, Scarface had sustained a deep gash on his upper forearm.

“Blood oozes out, and Scarface is dizzy from pain,” Damien said somberly.

“Scarface is fine,” Caleb insisted. “He doesn’t need medical attention.”

“Yes he does,” Axel snapped. “Axe doesn’t want to deal with your corpse on the two-week voyage back to Amstercram.”

“Zebulon agrees with his lovely lady friend Axe,” Zee said. “I think we’re gonna need the medic for this one.”

All eyes fell on MK. Her lip curled, and for a few moments, Damien feared she wouldn’t agree to it out of spite. That would be so awkward.

Finally, she spoke. “Zebulon, tell Scarface to sit down while Mercy preps his bandages.”

“Why don’t you tell him, brah?”

“Because Scarface and Mercy don’t speak the same language, numbskull,” MK snapped back.

Damien met Caleb’s gaze, which practically commanded him to shut up and accept that excuse. Damien shrugged. If it kept the peace, he’d let MK invent silly barriers.

“Scarface sits,” Caleb said. His eyes remained on Damien. Damien did not appreciate the extended eye contact. “Zebulon, ask Mercy if she knows what she’s doing.”

“Mercy, do you know what—”

“Zebulon, tell Scarface that he needs to stop being such a big baby.” MK rolled her eyes. “Mercy prepares her magical stitching needle so she can lace up Scarface’s poorly moisturized skin.”

“You lost your stitching needle during the heist,” Damien said helpfully. He could let the language crap slide, but not discontinuity in MK’s inventory.

MK stared at him incredulously. “Then what is Mercy supposed to use?”

“Zebulon can hex a replacement needle!” Zee interjected.

Damien passed the die to Zee. Ten. 

“Well, then.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Zebulon hexes a stray piece of tin. It melds itself into a dull stitching needle. It’ll hurt, but it will do the job.”

“Thank you,” MK said, not sounding very thankful.

Mercy got to work, and Caleb said, “Zebulon, tell Mercy she’s hurting me.”

“Zebulon, tell Scarface I don’t care.”

“Zebulon, tell Mercy that the least she could do is apologize for being a terrible medic.”

“Zebulon, tell Scarface that he has an ego the size of a whale if he thinks I’m going to apologize.”

“Woah woah woah,” Zee said. “Can you guys slow down? This is a lot of messages to relay.”

“Needle, needle, in MK’s hand,” said Wayne, the concussed monk, “who’s the fairest in the land?”

Damien decided it was time to intervene.

“And so Mercy finished closing Scarface’s wound,” he said hurriedly, “and then Scarface went to rest below deck and Mercy went to brood on the complete opposite side of the ship.”

“But not before Mercy stole his wallet,” MK said.

“Mercy is a Neutral Good character,” Damien said. “She wouldn’t do that.”

“She just broke into a castle, dude.”

“MK’s got a point,” Axel said.

The ship returned to Amstercram, antidote in tow. Now it was time for part two of the story. Axe and Scarface stormed Queen 'Lia’s castle. Brother Wayne and Royal Wizard Goldie the Wise cornered Duke Bowbow and pressured him into publicly confessing to the scheme. Mercy released the antidote into Amstercram’s canal system. Then Zebulon died. No one liked that part of the story very much.

“You can’t die,” Damien protested. “You have enough HP to withstand the gunshot!”

“It has to be this way, bro,” Zee said solemnly. “Every fantasy needs a heroic sacrifice, otherwise there’s no stakes. I’ll see you on the other side of the war.”

Axel sniffled. “So poetic.”

“If Zee kicked the bucket, does that mean this whole thing’s over?” MK asked. “Because ya girl’s had to pee for the last hour.”

Caleb stood up. “I’ve got things to do. This seems like a good place to stop.”

MK opened her mouth to give some witty retort, then seemed to think better of it and stayed silent. Wayne and Zee were shuffling around, standing up.

“But what about the epic conclusion?” Damien protested. “Give me like ten more minutes!”

“Axe the Barbarian returns to her home country to mend the political disputes. Royal Wizard Goldie the Wise is restored as chief priestess of the castle.” Nichelle ticked off each character on her fingers. “Scarface purchases a ship and hunts slavers. Mercy hangs up her medic’s cloak and rules over a gang in the underbelly of Amstercram. Brother Wayne lives in the lap of luxury for the rest of his days. The end.”

Damien blinked. “You came up with all of that on the spot?”

“Dude, please.” Nichelle threw back her head and laughed. “That’s more or less how the characters in the book end up.”

“Book?”

“Damien, the entire plot was a loose parody of Nichelle’s and my favorite young adult fantasy series,” Axel explained patiently.

Huh? Was that why Nichelle had given such insightful feedback on the planning process?

“I thought it was obvious,” Nichelle said. “Was it not obvious?”

“You don’t strike me as the type of person to read young adult fantasy.” You don’t strike me as the type of person to read, period.

“Oh, the series got picked up to be a TV show and I wanted a part. Read the whole series to research the roles.” Nichelle waved a hand. “Rest is history.”

Axel gathered up the character sheets and handed them back to Damien. “Thanks for organizing this. It wasn’t terrible.” She walked off without so much as a farewell.

Damien and Nichelle followed a few paces behind Axel. He looked from his character sheets to Nichelle. “So… did you enjoy it?”

She nodded. “More than I thought I would, yeah.”

“Did you notice MK and Caleb?” Surely she had opinions on that tense exchange at the end.

But Nichelle only shrugged. “Whatever. If they can’t communicate properly, that’s their problem.”

“You’re serious about giving up on your… matchmaker dreams, then?”

“Nope. I’ve just moved on to a more promising couple.” A sly smile spread across Nichelle’s face.

“Who?” Please don’t be me and Scary Girl, please don’t be me and Scary Girl.

Instead, Nichelle nodded at the girl walking ahead of them. She whispered, “Zee and Axel, duh!”

Damien wasn’t even going to touch that can of worms.

Chapter Text

“So, do you think turtles keep furniture inside their shells?” Wayne tapped his fork against his chin. “Like, if it’s their home and all, they’d want that thing to be cozy.”

“True!” Raj agreed. “I dunno if there’s enough space for a sofa, but they could definitely keep a rug or a TV in there.”

“What would the turtle watch on TV?”

“The nature channel, duh!”

It was at that point that Caleb decided to check out of the conversation. There was only so much Wayne and Raj that one could take in a day. He picked up a second slice of pizza, dabbed the grease off, and allowed his eyes to wander around the room: across the ceiling, the windows, the dinner buffet, the rest of his peers. Seated at other tables, Ripper, Chase, and Zee were snorting salt up their nostrils, Lauren was ripping apart her pizza with only her teeth, Axel was dumping an unholy amount of salsa onto her plate…

He steadfastly avoided looking at MK. Predictable, yes, but he was making a renewed effort to ignore her after failing to do so during the afternoon’s Dungeons and Flying Lizards campaign. Every so often, he’d found himself glancing her way. She’d been unsmiling, her eyelids drooping, palm smushed against her cheek, like this is lame, but I don’t have anything better to do.

There were a few times he’d wanted to crack a joke with her, maybe about Monk Wayne’s ridiculous rhymes, or Zee’s insistent pursuit of Axel’s character. But he’d kept silent until their big conversation. Talking to her—or, rather, using Zee to talk to her—had been illuminating. 

He has an ego the size of a whale if he thinks I’m going to apologize.

Even just recalling that made his jaw clench and his heart race. No one else in the campaign had understood MK’s coded message, but Caleb had seen it immediately: I’m not sorry.

Well, whatever. Caleb didn’t need her to be sorry. He just needed to survive the next few days so he could go home and forget all about it. His parents would be none the wiser, since all this drama had happened outside the scope of the show. There was no need to worry anyone about his experiences here at Playa Des Losers. This week would remain his and MK’s little secret.

“Caleb!” Wayne screamed in his ear. 

“What?” Caleb snapped. He disliked Wayne immensely for several obvious reasons.

“We’ve been saying your name for the past few minutes, buddy,” Wayne said. “Check it out. Caleb!”

“Caleb!” Raj said.

“Caleb!” “Caleb!” “Caleb!”

Count to five, Caleb reminded himself. That’s what he did whenever the kittens at the kitten orphanage became difficult to deal with. After completing his breathing exercise, he forced out a question: “Do you need something?”

“We were just wondering what you’ve been up to,” Raj said. “I recently learned that the world keeps spinning even when I’m asleep. So what were you spinning while I was nappy-napping?”

“I…” Caleb paused. What have I done?

“I played Dungeons and Flying Lizards with Wayne,” he said. “That was entertaining.”

“Already heard all about it!” Raj said proudly. “Gimme new food to chew on. What else did you do?”

“Nothing super exciting. After the game I took a brisk walk outside, then I stopped for a spontaneous yoga session by the water,” he said. “Then I showered and relaxed in my room until dinner.”

“Dude,” Raj said. “Walks and yoga? Good for you, man. I’ve been slacking. Haven’t even touched the gym since I got here.”

It’s important to keep your body in tip-top shape,” Caleb said politely.

“We know all about that, eh?” Wayne nodded seriously. “Rajie might be skipping out this week, but today I played air hockey with Chase and Ripper. Total upper body workout!”

“That’s not—”

“You played air hockey without me?” Raj whined.

“Sorry, broski, I had to! You were MIA!”

“Oh yeah. That’s on me, coach. After my nap, I ran into Axel and we got into an arm wrestling competition.”

“Did you win?” Caleb asked, genuinely curious if Raj’s hockey training could match Axel’s crazy zombie prep routine.

“Won a few, lost a few.” Raj shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face. “She’s wicked strong! Even taught me a new technique! Wanna see?” He held his arm out, inviting Caleb to fight him.

“Sure,” Caleb said. “Why not?”

He slipped his palm against Raj’s. But even as their arms wrestled and their muscles ached, Caleb’s mind wandered back to air hockey. No one had invited him. True, he couldn’t stand any of the guys involved, but they might have at least offered!

I didn’t know Wayne was friends with Chase and Ripper, Caleb mused. That was a guy thing, though. Most dudes he knew could strike up a conversation with any stranger and bam ! New best friend!

Caleb was not on his A-game, and Raj slammed his arm down on the table.

“Woah, it worked!” Raj cheered. He leaned back in his chair and called to the other table: “Hey, Axel! I just beat Caleb in arm wrestling!”

She sent him a thumbs-up in response.

Raj and Axel were also an unexpected duo. Caleb had assumed that the hockey bros would stick to each other like putty instead of branching out and talking to other people. Apparently, he’d been wrong.

And what have I done today? Caleb asked himself with a tinge of bitterness. He’d gone on a walk outdoors—alone—and performed lakeside yoga—alone—and relaxed in his hotel room—alone. No one else was sulking around like he was (aside from Lauren or MK, and they didn’t really count). 

Survive the next few days, go home, and forget all about it. Surviving might not be good enough for him. It was pretty pathetic if a fallout with one person had reduced him to an asocial loser. At this rate, he was no better than MK.

It wasn’t too late to change that. He decided to start small.

“Alright, bros, so when you do go to the gym, what’s your favorite machine?” Caleb asked. At least the three of them had a common interest in physical activity. That was a good starting point for pleasant small talk.

“I like the leg press,” Wayne said. “I never skip leg day. Sometimes I’ll even throw in an extra one if I don’t feel like working on my arms.”

“And I like the rowing machine!” Raj added. “Makes me feel like I’m a butterfly!”

“Dude, you’d be such a pretty butterfly.”

“Dude, I know.”

They really were two halves of a whole. Caleb forced himself to overlook their eccentric frat-boy vibes and found himself in an engaging conversation about muscle toning and diet. In fact, he challenged himself to play Spot the Difference. Were the hockey bros truly one soul living in two bodies, or were there any differences between them?

By the end of the meal, Caleb had found plenty. Raj stuck to a regimented diet due to migraines and cultural traditions, whereas Wayne ate just about anything. Raj was also more accident-prone than Wayne. Before competing on Total Drama, Wayne had never broken a bone in his life—he chalked it up to high calcium and a naturally dense bone structure. And, like all white people, Wayne loved milk. Raj and Caleb found him disgusting.

One by one, people cleared their plates and meandered out of the dining room. Caleb took extra care to wipe down his table—in part to help the waitstaff and in part to avoid her. The cleaning took his mind off other things and settled his stomach. Consequently, he was the last person to arrive in the hotel lobby.

Everyone had split into cliques. On one couch, Chase and Wayne compared their biceps while Ripper and Raj compared their butts. Axel, Zee, and Lauren sat on the second couch, each looking deadly serious as they argued about… whatever they might be arguing back. Nichelle stood with Damien; she grabbed his arm and pointed excitedly each time Axel’s and Zee’s knees touched.

The only person outside the group was MK. She leaned against the edge of Lauren’s couch but made no attempt at joining the conversation.

Don’t give her anything, Caleb said as he scooted himself closer to Damien and Nichelle’s huddle. He turned his back on MK, but nearly immediately the hair on his neck raised. Was his body playing tricks on him, or was he really feeling her gaze on him?

“Hey, guy,” Caleb said to Damien, willing himself to focus on anything else. “Who do you think lost today?”

Before Damien could respond, Nichelle shushed him. “We are trying to ship Axel and Zee over here! Let them cook!”

First me and MK, now Axel and Zee? If they’d still been at dinner, Caleb would’ve lost his appetite. How was Nichelle still so callous about meddling in other people’s lives?

He scooted away from them—but that put him closer to MK, so Caleb found himself walking toward the door instead. If he needed to be an island, he’d be an island. Lonely, sure, but he would make do.

If, hypothetically, he’d had a partner with whom to speculate (such as MK, hypothetically), what would Caleb say?

Bowie’s still in the game, Caleb would say. I’m not getting my hopes up of him getting eliminated. In fact, would it be wrong of me to want him to win?

Uh, duh, his conversation partner would respond. You’re such a sexist for even suggesting it!

Black guys gotta stick together, he would say proudly. And besides, I barely know the other people left. Hard for me to care about… Mildred? Millie? if I don’t even know her name.

They’re all obnoxious. Julia is more two-faced than a makeup palette, Priya thinks she knows everything, Emma is a spineless crybaby, and Millie is a huge nerd.

Opinions aside, who do you think will come home tonight?

Hopefully Julia, that rat face. She’s a schemer, but there are two rock-solid alliances that could team against her.

And if she gets immunity?

Bowie.

Caleb blinked. Had he just… invented an entire conversation in his head? Maybe this lonely island shtick was more dangerous than he’d anticipated. Especially considering the voice in his head had been suspiciously sarcastic and raspy.

Then a rush of cool air hit his back as the doors behind him swung open. Caleb turned to see—

“Emma!” Chase yelled.

“Chase!” She jumped into his arms and kissed him passionately.

“Ew!” said everyone in the room.

Interesting, Caleb thought. His fake conversation hadn’t predicted this.

“What happened?” asked Damien, who was shielding his eyes from the disgusting display of PDA. “What was today’s challenge?”

Emma finally tore her face away from Chase’s. Her cheeks were pink and her smile was too wide. “Oh, hey guys, what’s up? Good to see everyone! Most everyone, anyway, hahah.”

“Sorry you lost, Emma,” Zee said casually. “I was rooting for you, lowkey.”

“Hey!” Chase snapped. “No one’s allowed to root for my girlfriend, not even the homies!”

“Oh, Chase, stop it, don’t be so protective.” Emma giggled as she waved away his red flags.

A stomach ache was settling in Caleb’s abdomen, an endless chasm of unpleasantness.

“The challenge?” Axel asked impatiently.

“Okay, get this, it was selfies! Which is totally my wheelhouse, because what’s a selfie if not a still-frame of a vlog?”

Caleb had to admit that this wasn’t too terrible a leap of logic.

“So it was a beauty contest?” Nichelle asked. “Hottest selfie wins? Ugh, y’all voted me out way too soon!”

Damien placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Caleb stared at the ceiling. Another challenge I totally could’ve won …

“Not a beauty contest,” Emma clarified, dashing Nichelle’s hopes and Caleb’s uneasy regret. “Chris gave us a list of animals and gave points each time we snapped a selfie with them! Piranhas, crocodiles, racoons…”

“So how come you got the boot?” MK asked.

“Because I killed a turtle.”

Lauren leaned in closer, eager to hear the gory details, Wayne and Raj were on the verge of tears. Even Caleb winced. This was not earning Emma any sympathy points in his book.

“I didn’t mean to kill it!” Emma protested.

“Ha, sure you didn’t, babe.” Chase chuckled. “Just like I didn’t mean to kiss Patricia at that wrap party last summer.”

Emma’s expression soured.

“We’ll find out what really happened when the episode airs,” Axel said grimly, killing the lover’s quarrel in its infancy. “Then we’ll take you to court for animal manslaughter.”

“Hold on, girl,” Nichelle said. “Don’t underestimate the power of a bad edit. The Reality TV gods can make it look like Emma killed that turtle even if she never touched the thing!”

“Thank you,” Emma said gratefully. “Wow, Nichelle Ladonna is defending me? This has to be a dream. Anyway, I pinkie promise you guys that I accidentally punted the turtle into the air. Julia told everyone I did it on purpose, but she’s a big fat phony liar! She’s almost as bad as Bowie!”

Julia setting Emma up for failure? Being compared to Bowie? Caleb had known already (thanks to MK) that Julia was no perfect princess, but the stakes were higher now. With only the final four left, what did that mean for the rest of the game?

His traitorous gaze traveled to MK. With a jolt he saw she was staring straight at him. Shit. That had been instinct. He hadn’t meant to even acknowledge her. Quickly Caleb diverted his gaze back to Emma and Chase. 

They were just as revolting a sight. Chase was rubbing circles on Emma’s back, and she was toying with the string of his hoodie as she listened to questions. They looked like a cute teenage couple to anyone who didn’t know their on-again-off-again almost-killed-each-other desperately-crawling-back love story. They were grosser than a protein shake mixed with grease.

“…last I checked you and Bowie were besties,” Ripper was saying. “What’s up with that?”

“Is Bowie okay?” Raj asked.

“He’s fine, just the same as usual: a backstabbing low-life hater,” Emma said dryly. She cupped her hand against Chase’s cheek. “Babe, you would not believe the mean things he said about you and me! He was so jealous of our love!”

“I could’ve told you that from the start,” Chase said. “Never trust a man with heart-shaped sunglasses.”

Emma laughed and brushed her nose against his. It wasn’t even a full kiss, but everyone was grumbling and retching again.

“That’s it! Romance is dead!” Damien declared. He threw up his hands and walked off.

“This is why I’ve sworn off dating,” Axel said. Lauren was retching like a cat about to vomit, so Axel got off the couch and took several steps away from her.

The only people who looked remotely content with these developments were Zee and Ripper. Unsurprising. They were Chase’s cronies, or so Caleb had gathered over the past twenty-four hours.

Emma was not in the mood to answer questions anymore, so Caleb turned away. Hands in his pockets, he brushed past the rest of the crowd and headed upstairs to get some early sleep. Chemma was just as stomach-churning as he could’ve imagined.

Didn’t Emma literally flirt with me after voting me off? Caleb remembered. Doesn’t Chase only see her as a warm body?

Everything was backwards on this island, and his own personal island wasn’t any better. Sleep didn’t come easy. Caleb tossed and turned for an eternity, sticky hot under the plush covers. Visions of Chase and MK and Emma danced across his mind, and he knew he was in for a long night.

Chapter Text

Another day, another… well, it was another day.

MK spent all morning racking her brain for something new to think about. Literally anything. Like, Great Chevrolet Heist VI would be releasing in the fall. As the next installment in MK’s favorite video game series, GCH6 had unlimited potential. She swiped a paper pad from the concierge and wrote a list of mechanics, gameplay adjustments, and predictions.

In the margins she doodled NPCs in all sorts of scenarios: driving a Chevy, performing a bank heist, robbing old ladies. She only stopped when one of the stick figures began to resemble Caleb.

“No!” she yelled, distraught. MK crumpled the paper and tossed it at the trashcan. She missed. Damnit.

What was her family doing right now? Did they miss her around the house? Probably not. Her mom was probably at work—unless today is a weekend. Which it could be, ‘cuz I’m basically in a prison. Okay, if it was a weekend, her mom was likely at a morning pilates class. She was one of those middle-aged ladies who cared too much about looking twenty-five again.

Weekend or weekday, rain or shine, MK’s dad was definitely stationed at the country club right now. Gosh, MK had adored Take Your Daughter To Work Day as a kid. All those snobs with their shiny watches and glittery necklaces. It had taken years for her dad to catch on and ban her from the premises.

And her sister was probably out gallivanting with a boy. She had college prep summer classes to attend, sure, but she was also lowkey a genius and could afford to put off chemistry homework in favor of actual chemistry.

It was such a good thing that this whole Caleb sitch had occurred at the Losers’ Hotel instead of on the island. If her sister—or anyone else—had watched her crash and burn like that, MK would’ve died.

Would my sister even be on my side? MK wondered as she lay on her blanket nest, clutching the stuffed duck to her chest. Would anyone be on my side?

Not that she cared. She didn’t need the validation of internet strangers. Definitely not.

But the room seemed even more cramped and dingy than usual.

All her thoughts kept leading her back to Caleb. Even though he was the one in the wrong. Right? ‘Cuz he’d said one thing but meant another. No one could blame MK for anything. No one. Right.

“Blah blah, shut up,” MK muttered, rubbing her eyes. “Oh, great. I’m talking to myself. I am now the epitome of a loser.”

Something had to give. She dragged herself upright, cracked open the door, and took two quick glances down the hallway. Empty. Great. MK slunk out of her room like a ghostly ferret, completely unnoticed.

Maybe Dad is right and I do need more sunlight. Might as well take a walk outside, then.

But suddenly two dark hands snatched her. With her arms pinned to her sides, MK was trapped.

“Hey!” MK squirmed against her captor’s grip. She twisted her neck and snapped, “Raj, put me down!”

“No can do!” Raj said cheerfully. “I’m following the boss’s orders.”

“What?”

He dragged her into the dining room where Damien was leaning against a table and yapping with Wayne and Nichelle.

“Found MK, boss!” Raj declared, unceremoniously dropping her on the floor.

“Dude,” MK hissed, scowling at Raj and Damien—and Wayne and Nichelle, while she was at it. “What gives? Have you all gone so insane that you’ve resorted to kidnapping women for entertainment?”

“I did not tell Raj to kidnap you!” Damien looked affronted. “All I did was send him out to ask—politely—if you’d be game for another round of Dungeons and Flying Lizards.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” MK said. That would entail another three hours of sitting at a table with Caleb.  It was a tempting offer, though. Damien had a knack for storytelling, so much so that yesterday’s game had felt like an IRL VR RPG.

Raj’s arm shot into the air. “Oh! Oh! I’ll take her role!”

“Yeah! Let Rajie take her role!” said Wayne unnecessarily.

“Raj, you already took Scarface,” Damien reminded him. “Since you’re a newbie, I’d rather give the extra character to a more experienced player like—”

“Rock, paper, scissors!” Nichelle hollered, slamming her fist before Wayne.

Mercy the Medic was a hot commodity apparently. But Scarface…?

As Nichelle and Wayne duked it out, MK raised her eyebrows at Damien. “Caleb quit the game, too?”

“Yes, ma’am. Dude had a rough night. I heard him puking at three in the morning.” Damien shuddered. “Probably had a nightmare about Chase and Emma or something. I know I almost did. Instead I had a dream where Scary Girl ate my eyeballs. Honestly, I don’t know which one is worse.”

“I’d pick Scary Girl over Chemma any time,” MK said half-heartedly. Now that Caleb was out of play, she might as well stay for the game. Except… Damien’s head was cocked to the side, and he was staring at her with a quizzical expression. One eyebrow raised, lips pursed.

MK knew that look. It was the look of someone trying to figure out a puzzle. Oh, great. If she stayed, Damien was gonna needle her for information. Guaranteed. That sounded heinous.

“Scissors beat paper, I win!” Wayne yelled. “Brother Wayne and Mercy are gonna be unstoppable!”

“You cheated!” Nichelle protested. “I always have my first choice of roles! Always! Give her to me!”

MK sucked in a breath. “Well, Damien, buddy, pal, I’d love to stay and chat, but like I said, I’m good. Got some GCH6 conspiracies to ponder.”

Damien’s eyes lit up. “My friends are obsessed with GCH6! What’s your favorite—”

She’d already tuned him out and meandered to the exit door. People could be so strange sometimes. Like, why did Nichelle care so bad that she lost Rock Paper Scissors to Wayne? Why did Damien yap so much? And why—pause. Why is Caleb walking straight towards me?

MK had noticed far too late: Caleb walking inside the front doors just as she was headed out.

The odds were so astronomically low that MK concluded that there must be a god. And also He hated her.

Caleb was also slow on the uptake. Their eyes locked, and the surprise was evident in the crease of his brow. For a moment MK considered saying… something. Anything? MK had no idea.

Why are you sulking? Everyone would side with you if this came out.

Or maybe:

This is all your fault, anyway.

Or:

You can’t stay mad at me forever, right? 

The surprise died in Caleb’s eyes as a shadow fell across his sharp features. Now he looked stoic, like a statue, or perhaps a Swiss guard determined not to laugh. That just made MK determined to try—except she was pretty sure she’d lost the right.

That’s when she realized that she’d stopped walking. Awkward. She steeled herself and continued onward. There was no chance of accidentally brushing against him—Caleb kept a wide berth, six feet of empty space between them. What is this, a pandemic? It’s not like she had the measles or anything.

Once she’d pushed past the glass doors, she couldn’t help it: she glanced back. But Caleb had already bounded up the stairs, out of sight.

Dang. Outside, the sun shone brightly, and the temperature was just cool enough that MK felt comfortable in her oversized coat. Her stomach was clenched in a knot, and no matter how many deep breaths she took, it wouldn’t come undone.

The water lapped against the shores of the lake. MK sat down on a rock and stared, entranced by the rhythm. A gull flew overhead, crooning for food. From her vantage point, the island was a blob in the distance. The final four were over there, right now, competing in some dangerous challenge for one million dollars.

And MK was sitting alone, weighed down by self-pity and unease. No million dollars for her.

She plopped her head against her knees and groaned.

Deep breaths, Caleb told himself. His stomach was still unsettled, no thanks to MK showing up out of nowhere. He’d nearly immediately glanced back, just to see if she would, too. Nope. She’d just walked straight out the door. Just one more piece of proof that she wasn’t sorry.

He’d spent some time outside practicing yoga—although it was less fun without the kittens involved—but it hadn’t brought him the zen that he’d hoped. 

He’d tried praying, too. Caleb’s dad was big on “Love your enemies, son,” and similar proverbs, but mustering up goodwill towards MK felt like rolling a boulder up a hill. So with a half-hearted I pray for world peace, Caleb had given up on that, too.

But what now? He’d already declined Damien’s offer for more tabletop roleplaying. Unless he wanted to continue his existence as an asocial ghost, however, Caleb needed to find someone to talk to. Anyone.

Except MK. Or Chase, or Emma. And honestly? Not Nichelle or Lauren, either.

Instead of popping by the dining room, Caleb wandered into the game center. The only person he found was Ripper, who was sitting on the pool table and stuffing his face with Doritos.

This is my choice of company, huh? Caleb forced down a sigh. “Hey, Ripper, how’s it going?”

“Pretty good!” Ripper shoved his hand back into the crinkly bag. “Except, dude, did you know Scary Girl does palm readings?”

“I… did not.”

“You should totally go get your palm read!” Ripper held his hand up, red-dusted fingers splayed. “She told me I was gonna be famous one day.”

“Rich and famous, huh?” Caleb echoed. “Isn’t that a little cliche?”

“Not rich, just famous. She also told me I’d die in a jet-ski accident.” He made a face. “And that I’d marry a nerd. Gross!”

“Do you really want to put that much trust in Scary Girl’s predictions?” Caleb asked, raising a brow. Personally, he didn’t mess with psychic stuff. Every Halloween, his dad preached a sermon on how seeing the future was no one’s business but God’s.

Also, he didn’t want to get accidentally possessed by a demon clown. Caleb’s skin crawled just thinking about it.

“I mean, I won’t know if she’s wrong or not until I go jet-skiing. And I guess I can put up with a nerd wife if it means I get to be famous one day.” Ripper shrugged, as if this was a reasonable thing to say. “Whatchu been up to, man?”

“Just enjoying the morning,” Caleb said vaguely. “Last night was rough, but the outdoors refreshed me.”

“I know what you mean, dude. Dinner did not agree with me. At all.” Ripper patted his stomach affectionately.

Caleb winced. “Genuine question: have you ever seen a gastroenterologist about IBS? Because it sounds like you might have IBS.”

Ripper’s brow furrowed. “Why does everyone keep asking that? I’m good! Perfectly healthy!”

Caleb highkey did not want to continue this line of conversation, so he decided to take Ripper at his word. “I guess you know your body best, after all. Wanna play a game of pool?”

It took a few minutes to convince Ripper to wash his hands so he wouldn’t get Dorito dust all over the pool cue. Once he’d been cleaned, the game commenced.

Except as it turned out, both boys sucked at pool. Ripper missed his first shot five times straight, and Caleb hit one ball so hard it bounced off the table. It was so stupidly hard that the guys burst out laughing. 

Caleb steadied himself against the table, still chuckling despite himself. He said, “We can fix this. We just need to invent our own rules.”

“Let’s turn it into tabletop golf!” Ripper suggested. He adjusted his grip on his pool cue and angled it vertically beside the red ball like he was on a putting green. With a tiny tap, he sent the ball gently rolling towards the corner.

It missed.

“Better than your first five attempts,” Caleb said. 

They played by the new rules of Tabletop Golf. Caleb was the first person to sink a ball, but after that Ripper hit three in a row.

“Hold on,” Caleb said, “how do we decide who wins the game? Is it who sinks the eight ball first? Or who can sink their cue balls in the least amount of strokes?”

“Erm,” Ripper said. “How about the winner is the guy who sinks the most balls?”

Caleb argued against that (totally not because Ripper already had a two-point lead) but eventually they decided that would be the easiest way to play. After that, Caleb really locked in. By the time they were down to the final shot, the score was 8-7. Either Ripper won, or they’d end with a gentleman’s tie.

For most of the game they’d been shooting the breeze and making small talk about everything: favorite baseball teams (Ripper loved the Toronto Blue Jays, but Caleb preferred the Boston Red Socks); the classic pet debate (Ripper was obviously a dog person, and Caleb’s work at the kitten shelter spoke for itself); and even religious experiences (“The communion wafer is so blah, but at least the priest gives us actual alcohol!”).

But at the very end, when Caleb was eyeing the eight ball with the gaze of a master strategist, Ripper brought up a new topic: “So, did you rizz up any of the ladies here?”

Caleb missed his shot entirely. “Pardon?!”

“Rizz,” Ripper repeated. “Y’know, did you get a girl’s number or ask her out or anything? If Chase can pull Emma, you can pull anyone !”

This tired old conversation again?

“Nope, no girls for me. Your turn, Ripper.”

Ripper sidled up to the eight ball. “Dang it. If you can’t pull, there’s no hope for the rest of us.” He putted the ball. It missed the hole, and Ripper cursed.

Caleb pursed his lips. He didn’t trust himself to respond. One wrong move and he’d accidentally explain the whole shtick with MK, or all the reasons he couldn’t trust women in the first place. Best to steer the conversation in a different direction.

“So… you and Julia, huh?” he asked, each word like molasses. It was his turn to put now, and just as carefully, he lowered his cue beside the eight ball.

“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, we definitely made out. Big time. Yeah.”

Ripper’s pants were practically smoking. Caleb smirked. “If you can pull Julia, then there must be hope for the rest of us.”

“Ugh, fine! We didn’t actually kiss. I mean, we only kissed ‘cause there was a tapeworm involved. She doesn’t want me. But you can’t tell anyone! It’ll ruin my street cred.”

“No offense, Ripper, but you didn’t have that much street cred to begin with.”

Ripper was so offended he hissed like a cat. Caleb eyed the ball and tapped it gently. Bam. Straight into the pocket.

“Tie game!” he declared, beaming.

“Lucky shot,” Ripper said, but he didn’t seem to be too upset. They exchanged a fistbump.

The knot in Caleb’s stomach had loosened by the time dinner came around. His appetite had returned, and most was right with the world again. When he and Ripper strolled into the dining hall, still reliving epic moments from Tabletop Golf, Nichelle was in the middle of one of her Big Ideas.

“Let’s push two tables together and make one giant super table!” she was saying. “We only have a few more days left on set, y’all. Let’s make them count!”

“Ehh…” Damien was sweating as he side-eyed Lauren. Caleb wasn’t too enthused about the idea either, but Nichelle had Wayne and Raj at her disposal. The hockey bros pushed two tables together, and that was the end of discussion.

Tonight’s menu included chicken parm, potatoes, and plenty of French fries. As he made his way through the food line, Caleb’s peripheral vision kept him abreast of MK’s movements. She was dumping fries on her plate—no, now she was walking over to the table. She took a seat beside Damien. Noted. Once he had all his food, Caleb made sure to situate himself between Lauren and Axel at the exact opposite side of the megatable.

The unintended consequence of this decision was a clear line of sight of MK. Fantastic. Caleb resolved to keep his eyes on his food and not steal any longing glances.

Well, not longing glances, just regular glances. Glares, even. Argh!

Caleb crooked his arm and turned to Axel. “How was Dungeons and Flying Lizards today?”

As she cut up her chicken parm, Axel gave a curt summary of all that had happened that afternoon. As she talked, Caleb found that he didn’t mind her blunt and to-the-point attitude. In fact, throughout dinner, Caleb found himself enjoying himself for the first time in a few days—even despite the more unsavory characters at the table. No one here was his bestie by any stretch of the imagination, but at least he was having a civil conversation with Axel. 

Of course he slipped up. During all the chatter, he happened to glance in MK’s direction. She wasn’t exactly smiling, but she seemed deeply engrossed in a conversation with Damien.

“So, dawgs,” began Zee, who sat near the center of both tables, “what is everyone looking forward to the most once we get home?”

“My mani pedi!” Nichelle announced, waving both hands in the air. “I always get a new set done once filming wraps and I don’t have to be in costume every day. It’s a tradition.”

“I’m going to some concerts next weekend,” Axel said. “Killer lineup. I spent a fortune on my tickets.”

“Taxidermy!” Lauren said. 

No one knew what to say to that.

“Um, me personally, I am excited for the ice cream guy that comes to my street every Tuesday morning,” Zee said. “I’ve missed him and his Princess Diana popsicles.”

“I’m just looking forward to some peace and quiet,” Caleb jumped in. “ And the freedom to go wherever I’d like instead of staying cooped up in a hotel.”

This earned a smattering of sympathetic mmhmms from his castmates.

“It must have been so hard for you guys,” Emma said sympathetically. She held up a forkful of chicken parm as if she were about to make a toast. “Speaking of small, cramped quarters, I’m looking forward to buying an apartment with Chase!”

“Buying?” Damien repeated incredulously.

“You’re sixteen,” MK said, echoing the thoughts of Caleb and (undoubtedly) the rest of the people at the table.

“Sure, but the housing market’s only gonna get worse. We need to invest now in our future!”

Under her breath, Axel murmured, “If you really wanted to invest in the future, you’d buy a machete.” Caleb shrugged. Buying a machete was honestly less of a mistake than buying a house with your boyfriend of one (1) day.

“So I guess that’s what Chase is looking forward to, too—” Zee began before Chase cut him off.

“Nah. Apartment hunting sounds stressful. What I’m most looking forward to is chillin’ at the beach house with my bros!”

Oh boy, Caleb thought as Emma swung her head in bewilderment.

“Babe, what? Not the apartment?”

“I mean yeah, I’ll be excited once we’re locked in and the lease is signed, but also I haven’t seen the guys in like, a week! We’ve got a lot of content to catch up on.”

Emma’s cheeks were pink and blotchy, and her eyes darted from one person to the next. She set down her uneaten forkful of chicken parm, then leaned in close and whispered in Chase’s ear. 

This is worse than taxidermy. Caleb fidgeted in his seat. For a few moments, no one knew what to do. Finally, Ripper cleared his throat. Never before had his obnoxious mannerisms brought such relief.

“My family’s going on a vacation in a few weeks,” Ripper told the table. “I’m gonna teach my brother how to swim in Lake Superior.”

“That’s an important skill,” Zee agreed. “Maybe you can teach me, too.”

“You don’t know how to swim?” Wayne asked. “We learned that in hockey practice. ‘Cause what if the ice melted during a match? We’d need to swim off the rink.”

“Okay, show of hands,” said Zee. “Who here doesn’t know how to swim?” 

He raised his hand. No one else did.

“Zee, we all know how to swim,” Axel said. “Unless you lied on the sign-up form, which specifically required that all competitors know how to swim.”

“I mean, I know how to doggy paddle, dude, but I do not know how to butterfly.”

“The form did not ask about butterfly!” Axel said.

“I don’t know butterfly either! Twins!” Raj raised his hand. “Coach Sanders only taught us freestyle.”

“But if the original question was, ‘who knows how to swim,’ then Zee does know how to swim,” Damien said matter-of-factly. “Doggy paddle is a form of swimming!”

“One time, y’all,” Zee said, “I was taking a sunset swim at the pool, and my leg popped off, and a little kid thought it was real, and she started screaming.”

“No way,” Nichelle gasped.

The conversation went on like that for a while—with other people as the star of the show. Caleb felt content to sit back and watch the silly banter unfold. Despite everything, it was one of the better dinners of the week.

MK was stuffed and slightly overstimulated. She’d devoured several servings of chicken parm while having an unironically interesting conversation with Damien about the differences between RPG in video games and in real life.

She still felt like shit, but she’d been able to shovel the shit away for a little bit. Zee’s long-winded leg stories had helped, for sure, as had the food. 

And now, with the plates cleared away and everyone making their way to the hotel lobby… a moment of reckoning was at hand.

Last night, MK hadn’t expected Emma to walk through those doors. Wrapped up in her own drama and her own grudges, she’d forgotten than Emma was a serious competitor. But now the competition was down to four: Priya, Bowie, Millie, and Julia. With three powerful competitors left (because honestly, what was Millie still doing there?), there was no telling who would crash and burn today.

“I hope it’s ‘bye bye, Bowie,’” Emma was saying to anyone with a pulse. “Maybe the girls made some awesome girls’ alliance to vote him out!”

“That’s silly babe,” Chase said, his arms wrapped around her waist. “Just because they’re all girls doesn’t mean they have to vote together.”

Axel rolled her eyes. “Dude, did you even research this show? Guys’ alliances are pretty much a staple of classic Total Drama strategy.”

“Thank you, Axel,” Emma said, relieved. “It’s totally possible the girls will try the same thing tonight!”

Meanwhile, Scary Girl had swiped a potato from the dining room and was carving into it. MK watched, slightly disturbed, but the only person dumb enough to ask her about the potato was Wayne, who walked up and said, “Watcha doin’, Scary Girl?”

“Carving Millie’s skull out of this spud,” she replied breezily. “It’s a skull spud! I’m going to give it to her when she gets eliminated tonight.”

“Skull spud,” Wayne repeated. “Or… spull skud? Skud spull? Try saying that five times fast.”

MK didn’t share her vendetta against Julia with anyone else. But she clung to a secret seed of hope, kept it buried deep inside her chest.

She hung out on the periphery of the group. And as it so happened, MK happened to glance at Caleb and saw he wasn’t talking much, either. He stood around with Ripper and Zee, but stayed quiet as the other two chatted.

Probably because he’s been out of the game for so long, she figured. Zee or Ripper might have strong opinions, but Caleb hadn’t even met Millie or Priya. A few days ago, when they’d still been on speaking terms, MK had needed to give him the run-down on half of their castmates, because he’d barely had time to meet any of them.

And then that night’s loser walked through the doors. A gleeful smirk stretched across MK’s face. Here came Julia, cradling a cracked phone. Her mouth wobbled and her eyes were glassy—she looked like a child who’d just been told that Santa died in a plane crash.

The room broke out in chatter.

“ Yes !” MK pumped a fist in the air and did a lil’ touchdown dance. “Finally! The evil has been defeated!”

“Okay, fine, I’ll settle for Julia,” Emma said, clapping vigorously.

“Woo hoo! Bowie’s in the final three!” Raj yelled. He hugged Wayne with such vigor that they toppled to the ground.

“ Millie’s in the final three!” Ripper yelled. “Give me five, bro!” He high-fived Zee and Caleb. MK’s gaze flitted in their direction and locked with Caleb’s. Again.

This time Caleb held it for a few moments. His stoniness had melted into raised eyebrows and hmmm? What was so important about—holy crap, we kinda predicted this? Priya and Bowie were in the final three. Days and days ago, she and Caleb had thrown their support behind the two people that were most likely making it to the endgame.

MK opened her mouth to say something like “ Damn, we’re good !” but she was stopped by Julia.

“Shut up!”

MK ripped her gaze from Caleb to find that Julia’s puppy dog sadness had dried up. In its place was a simmering scowl. Her fiery eyes swept the room.

“Okay, yeah, the villain lost. Get over it! Save your gloating for the cameras,” she snapped as she stepped forward into the foyer.

“What happened, girl?” Nichelle asked. It was an awfully compassionate thing to say to the most evil person in the world—but then again, Nichelle hadn’t been around to witness the full force of Julia’s heinous personality.

Julia spread her hands in the air. “Imagine this: you collect the most coins and win the challenge because Nerd One and Nerd Two get eaten by a giant fish. Moments before Chris officially grants you immunity, the Nerdlings somehow escape the fish with double the coins. Priya gets immunity, I get backstabbed by Bowie, and now I’m here, cancelling dozens of Albatross & Finch orders.”

“That sounds practically Biblical,” Caleb murmured.

“Backstabbed by Bowie? Join the club, sister,” Emma said. A few other campers nodded.

“I will not be in your club,” Julia grumbled. “I just want to take a shower and cool off.”

“You can’t be too surprised,” MK chipped in. “What’s that saying? What goes around comes around?”

What? She had to make some biting comment before Julia sulked upstairs.

Julia narrowed her eyes.

“I’m sorry, did the person who got eliminated before the merge say something?” she asked drily.

“Pre-merge, post-merge, what does it matter? Neither of us is getting that money now,” MK said, fighting back a smile. “Guess you’re no better than the rest of us lowlife buttknuckles.”

“Whatever,” Julia huffed. She stomped up the stairs, only stopping to snatch a key from the concierge. The room only grew louder in her wake—Emma and Raj were arguing, Ripper was performing an armpit symphony, and Nichelle and Damien were gossipping.

Now MK allowed the smile to return to her face. It was so satisfying to see her nemesis fly too close to the sun. In the absence of a million dollars, she’d take that as a consolation prize.

The hotel doors slid open again, and in walked a pair of interns. The room hushed nearly immediately, and even MK took a cautious step closer. The interns usually made themselves scarce around the hotel. What gives?

“Hey, y’all,” said the first intern. “Is everyone here? We have some essential info to share.”

For a moment the group looked among themselves, waiting for someone to bite the bullet and act as spokesperson (MK scootched behind Wayne and Raj so she’d be more unseen).

Finally, Caleb spoke up. “Everyone’s here except for Julia. She got upset and went straight upstairs.”

“Ah… one of you can fill her in once we’re gone,” said the second intern. Apparently, Julia’s terrorism knew no bounds

“Anyway. If you’ve seen the original Total Drama seasons, you should know this finale is going to look a little bit different.”

The interns took turns explaining, and MK soaked it all in. Unlike past seasons, this season would have a three-way finale. The final episode would be filmed tomorrow, a day earlier than anyone had anticipated. 

Now Millie is really cooked, MK thought dryly.

Another important tidbit? “All of you will be on set tomorrow as part of the peanut gallery,” said the second intern. “That means get a good rest tonight, do your makeup, wash yourselves thoroughly, because tomorrow you’ll be back on camera.”

Even better news! Everyone was murmuring about this development, MK included. She’d be free of this hotel, free to heckle Bowie and anyone else that deserved heckling! Tomorrow was going to be amazing.

As soon as the interns finished their spiel, the group fractured. Half the girls sprinted upstairs to take showers. Wayne and Raj began planning out their next project: a glittery GO BOWIE banner. Zee took off his prosthetic and sat down to polish it. Caleb lingered with the interns. What, was he doing small talk with them? Gross.

MK considered staying back to say something. But only briefly. He didn’t want to talk to her, remember?

But what if I apologized? MK immediately brushed the thought off. It was ridiculous. It wouldn’t make a difference. No matter what she said, Caleb wouldn’t see her any differently. Tonight, it was best to turn on her heels and head upstairs to bed.