The sun rose over Camp Wawanakwa with a deceptive serenity. A thin veil of mist clung to the surface of the lake, and the only sound was the distant calling of a loon. But for the 17 teenagers residing there, the peace was about to be shattered.
Chris McLean stood by the campfire pit, his signature smirk illuminated by the flickering flames of a few logs he'd tossed together for dramatic effect. He held a megaphone in one hand and a clipboard in the other.
"Listen up, campers!" Chris's voice boomed through the megaphone, startling a flock of birds into flight. "Last night, we sat around this very fire. You shared your deepest secrets, your most intimate vulnerabilities. You thought it was a bonding moment. You thought I was being a nice guy." He paused, chuckling to himself. "I am never a nice guy. I was taking notes. Today's challenge is a little something I like to call... Phobia Factor!"
A collective chill ran down the spines of the contestants. The Screaming Gophers and the Killer Bass looked at each other with mounting dread.
"The rules are simple," Chris continued, pacing back and forth. "We have prepared a series of challenges based on the very things that make your skin crawl. Complete your challenge, and your team gets a point. Fail, and you get nothing but the crushing weight of disappointment. The team with the most points wins invincibility. The losers... well, the loser gets to see me at the campfire tonight for a very special marshmallow-free send-off."
Part I: The Gophers' Struggle
The challenge began immediately. First up for the Gophers was Leshawna. Chris led her to a large, plexiglass box placed in the center of the clearing. Inside, dozens of oversized tarantulas crawled over one another.
Leshawna's bravado vanished instantly. Her knees shook so hard they knocked together. "Oh no. No way, Chris. I am a queen, and queens do not do spiders!"
"Ten minutes in the box, Leshawna. That's all it takes for a point," Chris said, checking his watch.
Leshawna backed away, but then she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Harold. Even though he was on the opposing team, he looked at her with genuine admiration.
"Leshawna, you are the most soulful, powerful woman I have ever met. Those spiders aren't monsters; they're just confused invertebrates. You have the spirit of a lioness. Don't let them win."
Leshawna blinked, touched by the weirdly poetic encouragement. She took a deep breath, stepped into the box, and squeezed her eyes shut. For ten minutes, she stood perfectly still as the hairy legs skittered over her skin. When the buzzer sounded, she burst out, shaking them off, but she had her point.
Next was Heather. Her challenge was a sumo wrestling match against a man three times her size. Heather looked disgusted. "I am not touching that... that sweaty mountain of a man."
"Give it up then, Heather," Leshawna shouted from the sidelines. "Unless you're scared!"
"I'm not scared!" Heather snapped.
"Then prove it!" Leshawna yelled back, surprisingly pushing her rival. "If you can survive being the meanest girl in school, you can survive one fat guy in a diaper. Use that nasty attitude of yours!"
Heather, fueled by a mix of rage and a strange need to prove Leshawna right, let out a scream and charged. She used the wrestler's own momentum against him, dodging his lunge and shoving him just enough to send him stumbling out of the ring. Point!
Owen was next. His fear was flying. Chris didn't even give him a choice; they drugged a slice of cake, and Owen woke up in the back of a rickety cargo plane 10,000 feet in the air. He spent the entire flight screaming, sobbing, and eating his own shoes out of pure stress, but because he stayed on the plane until it landed, he technically won the point.
However, the Gophers' luck began to turn. Cody was tasked with defusing a "bomb" (which was actually just a pressure cooker filled with glitter and confetti). His hands shook so violently that he cut the wrong wire within three seconds. Boom. He was covered in sparkles and shame.
Justin was shown a mirror and told he had a microscopic pimple on his chin; he collapsed into a catatonic state of vanity-induced shock.
Lindsay was asked to walk across a "minefield" of bubble wrap in 7-inch heels. She tripped on the first step, twisted her ankle, and gave up. The Gophers were losing ground fast.
Ezekiel's Nightmare:
Then it was Ezekiel's turn. Chris led him to a small, dark room with a one-way mirror. "Ezekiel, you said your biggest fear was being ignored or misunderstood. That people would hate you for just existing because you're 'different.'"
Chris signaled the crew. Outside the room, loudspeakers began playing a distorted loop of the other campers' voices—voices Ezekiel recognized. They were saying horrible things: "He's so weird," "Why is he even here?", "He belongs in a cave," "Nobody wants to talk to him."
Inside the room, Ezekiel sat on a wooden chair. The isolation was suffocating. He tried to tell himself it wasn't real, but the echoes of his childhood—the years spent alone on the farm, the feeling of being an outsider looking in—came rushing back. He began to hyperventilate. After only five minutes, the pressure snapped. Ezekiel kicked the door open and ran into the woods, tears streaming down his face.
The other campers went silent. Even Heather didn't make a joke. They had seen something raw and painful in Zeke's eyes. He didn't get the point, but for the first time, the others didn't look at him with annoyance—they looked at him with pity.
Part II: The Bass Ascendant
The Killer Bass were watching the Gophers crumble, and it gave them a surge of adrenaline.
Duncan faced his fear of Celine Dion standees. He looked ready to vomit, but Izzy was jumping around him like a caffeinated squirrel.
"They're just cardboard, Duncan! Look at her! Her eyes are made of ink! You're a delinquent! You've been to juvie! Are you gonna let a Canadian pop legend take you down?"
Duncan growled, punched a standee in the face, and walked through the gauntlet. Point!
Harold's challenge was ninjas. He was blindfolded and told to defend himself. In a stroke of pure, unadulterated "Mad Skills," Harold began performing a series of spastic, unpredictable nunchuck swings. He accidentally hit every single professional ninja in the groin or the shins. He took off the blindfold, saw the pile of groaning men, and whispered, "Gosh... lucky." Point!
Tyler and DJ worked together. Tyler was trapped in a pen with chickens. He was paralyzed. DJ leaned over the fence. "Hey, man, think of it like this. They're just tiny, flightless birds. They're more scared of you than you are of them. Just walk like a boss, Tyler!"
Tyler nodded, swallowed his pride, and waded through the feathers.
When it was DJ's turn to face a small garden snake, Tyler returned the favor. "It's just a long worm, DJ! You're ten times bigger than it! You got this!"
DJ, sweating profusely, let the snake slither over his boot.
Two points for the Bass!
Izzy was locked in a mock airplane cabin. Most people would feel claustrophobic, but Izzy began using the emergency oxygen masks as puppets and started a one-woman show. She didn't want to leave when the time was up. Point!
Then came the most intense moment for the Bass. Eva was forced to wear a bright, frilly pink dress and act "girly" like Katie. She looked like she was going to murder everyone within a five-mile radius. Katie was tasked with her own fear: the fear of being rejected by someone she loved.
Katie stood in front of Eva. Her heart was pounding against her ribs like a trapped bird.
"Eva," Katie whispered, her voice trembling. "I have to say this for the challenge, but... it's not just for the challenge. I'm scared to tell people who I really am. I'm scared they won't like me. Especially you. Because... because I've fallen for you, Eva. I love you."
The entire camp went dead quiet. Chris leaned forward, his eyes wide. Eva, dressed in pink lace, froze. Her face went through a dozen different emotions—confusion, shock, and finally, a strange sort of softened respect. She didn't say it back, but she didn't yell. She simply nodded once. "Points for both of us," Eva grunted. Two points!
Bridgette was sent into the deep woods alone. She was a nature lover, yes, but the crushing silence of being truly alone in the dark terrified her. She kept hearing DJ's voice in her head, telling her she was brave. When she finally emerged at the finish line, she saw DJ waiting there. She didn't hug him—she was too shy for that—but she caught his eye and blushed a deep crimson, quickly looking away when he smiled back. She knew in that moment that her feelings for him were becoming something she couldn't ignore. Point!
Part III: The Burial of Gwen
The final challenge was the most dangerous. Gwen was to be buried alive in a wooden coffin for fifteen minutes.
"Don't worry, Gwen," Chris said, handing a walkie-talkie to Trent. "Trent here will stay on the other end. He'll talk to you, keep you calm. If you can't handle it, just yell, and we'll dig you up. But you'll lose the point."
Gwen was lowered into the ground. As the first shovelfuls of dirt hit the lid, she felt the walls closing in. "Trent? You there?"
"I'm here, Gwen. I'm not going anywhere," Trent promised.
But life at Camp Wawanakwa is never that simple. From the bushes, a mime appeared. He didn't say a word, but he began performing a routine of being trapped in a box. Trent, who had a paralyzing, irrational phobia of mimes, turned white as a sheet.
"No... stay away," Trent stammered. The mime moved closer, mimicking Trent's every move. Trent lost it. He dropped the walkie-talkie in the dirt and sprinted toward the cabins, screaming at the top of his lungs. The mime, committed to the bit, chased after him.
Underground, Gwen was starting to lose her mind. "Trent? Trent, answer me! It's getting hard to breathe! Trent!"
Silence.
The radio lay abandoned in the mud. The Gophers were watching from a distance, but they didn't realize Trent had fled. Only one person noticed the radio sitting there alone.
Ezekiel walked over and picked it up. He could hear Gwen's frantic breathing through the speaker. He knew he had failed his own challenge. He knew he felt like a failure. But he wouldn't let Gwen suffer.
"Gwen? It's not Trent. It's Ezekiel," he said, his voice surprisingly steady and soft.
"Zeke? Where's Trent? Get me out of here, Zeke!"
"I can't dig you up yet, eh? You've only been down there for five minutes. If I dig you up now, you lose. I'm gonna stay right here. I'm sitting on the grass right above you. I'm not moving an inch."
"Zeke, I can't do this..."
"Yes, you can. You're the toughest girl here. Listen to my voice. I'm gonna tell you about my farm. We have a hill in the back where the sun hits the grass just right in the morning..."
For the next ten minutes, Ezekiel talked. He spoke about the stars he saw from his bedroom window, the way the snow felt in the winter, and stories his mother told him. His voice was a lifeline. Gwen stopped hyperventilating.
She closed her eyes and focused only on the sound of the "homeschooler" she had once dismissed. She realized he wasn't just weird; he was kind. He was lonely, just like she sometimes felt.
When the timer finally hit zero, Ezekiel didn't wait for the interns. He grabbed a shovel and began digging with a frantic energy. He threw the dirt aside, his muscles straining. When the shovel hit wood, he dropped it and pried the lid open with his bare hands.
Gwen scrambled out, covered in dust and sweat. She took a deep breath of the fresh air and looked at Ezekiel. He was panting, his hands dirty, looking at her with genuine concern.
"You stayed," she whispered.
"I said I would, eh?" Zeke replied with a shy smile.
Gwen didn't care who was watching. She threw her arms around Ezekiel in a massive hug. She pulled back just enough to plant a firm kiss on his cheek. Ezekiel's brain seemed to short-circuit. He turned a shade of red that shouldn't be humanly possible.
The Verdict
The teams gathered back at the main stage.
"Well, well, well," Chris said, looking at the scoreboard. "The Killer Bass... a perfect score! Eight for eight! You guys actually grew a spine today. Especially you, Eva. Nice dress."
Eva growled, but Katie stood by her side, looking hopeful.
"As for the Screaming Gophers," Chris continued. "Leshawna, Heather, and Owen got points. Gwen got her point thanks to Zeke. But Trent... Trent ran away from a guy in face paint. Cody blew up. Justin is still staring at a pimple that doesn't exist. And Lindsay... well, Lindsay is Lindsay. With only four points, the Gophers lose!"
The Bass erupted in cheers. DJ and Bridgette shared a look—Bridgette quickly looked at her feet, smiling. Katie and Eva walked off together, a strange new tension between them.
The Gophers, however, were furious. They looked at Trent, who had finally returned, looking ashamed.
"I'm sorry, Gwen! I just... the mime..."
Gwen didn't even look at him. She was still standing near Ezekiel, who was leaning against a tree, still dazed from the kiss.
"Save it for the campfire, Trent," Gwen said coldly.
The sun began to set, casting long, jagged shadows over the island. The Gophers knew what was coming. One of them would be walking the Dock of Shame tonight, and for the first time, the hierarchy of the team had been completely upended. Ezekiel, the outcast, had become a hero, while Trent, the golden boy, had let everyone down.