Chris clapped his hands one more time, getting everyone's attention. "Alright campers, listen up! It's time to talk about where you'll be staying during your time here at Camp Wawanakwa."
"Now, I know what you're all thinking," Chris continued with that trademark smirk. "You're thinking about making friends, forming alliances, maybe finding a little summer romance..." He waggled his eyebrows at that last part, and I saw a few blush.
Harold, who was standing next to Duncan, took that as his cue. He turned to the delinquent with a hopeful smile, clearly ready to make his first friend.
Duncan's response was immediate and menacing. "Back off, dork."
Harold's smile faltered, but he didn't move away. Poor kid didn't know when to quit.
"But before we get to all that, let me remind you what you're really here for." He paused for dramatic effect, letting the tension build. "One. Hundred. Thousand. Dollars."
The energy on the dock seemed to refocus. Everyone perked up a little more—even the people who'd been trying to play it cool. Owen's eyes went wide. Lindsay almost was bouncing on her toes. Courtney stood up straighter, if that was even possible.
Duncan, though, looked worried. Not about the money, but about something else. His eyes darted toward the cabins, then back to the group. Interesting.
"Speaking of accommodations," Duncan said suddenly, "I call a bunk next to Heather."
The reaction was immediate. Heather's face twisted in disgust. "Ugh, are the bunks co-ed?"
"Each team gets a cabin," Chris explained, looking far too amused by Heather's discomfort. "Guys sleep on one side, girls sleep on the other. There's a dividing wall, so don't get any ideas."
Lindsay's hand shot up immediately. "Wait, so like, can I get a better cabin than everyone else? Because I'm really pretty and I need my beauty sleep and—"
"No," Chris cut her off flatly. "Everyone gets the same cabin. Same bunks. Same questionable mattresses."
Well I knew that was a lie, I let a smirk rest on my face.
"Now then," Chris pulled out a clipboard, "time to divide you into teams. When I call your name, step forward."
Everyone seemed hopeful, hell even I had to lock in for this.
This was it. Teams would determine everything going forward, who I'd be living with, competing with, potentially voting off.
"Gwen, Trent, Heather, Cody, Lindsay, Beth, Katie, Owen, Leshawna, Justin, and Luther—you're the Screaming Gophers!"
I stepped forward with the others, quickly assessing my new teammates. Gwen gave me a small nod, that was good, our earlier rapport was holding. Owen looked thrilled to be on any team. Heather looked like she was already deciding who to eliminate first.
"Geoff, Bridgette, DJ, Noah, Sadie, Izzy, Courtney, Ezekiel, Duncan, Eva, and Harold—you're the Killer Bass!"
Hmm. These teams seemed similar to what I vaguely remembered from watching the show back home, though my memory wasn't perfect. Some background characters were scattered between both teams. Still Screaming Gophers. I was packed in with the more eccentric members of the cast. It made it harder to stand out for viewers, but it could also have the exact opposite effect. If I played this right,
Katie and Sadie immediately started wailing about being on different teams. "But we do everything together!" Katie cried.
"This is the worst day of my life!" Sadie added, and they fell into each other's arms dramatically.
Everyone pretty much ignored them, except for Courtney, who stepped forward with that natural leader energy. "Sadie, you can do this. You're stronger than you think. Sometimes we have to be brave without the people we rely on."
I watched Sadie's expression shift from despair to a more sober hopeful look. Courtney had just made an ally, whether she realized it or not.
"Alright, alright," Chris said, waving his hand dismissively at the drama. "Now that that's settled, let's get a team photo! Everyone gather on the end of the dock."
Ah right, this moment I'd been waiting for it now for some time.
I caught Geoff's eye and nodded toward my bags. "Hey man, can you watch these for a sec?"
"Sure thing, dude," Geoff said easily.
But I didn't just leave them with him. Instead, I deliberately placed my bags far from the others, off to the side of the dock, away from where everyone was gathering. I set them down carefully, horizontally facing the islands dock. If people asked later, I'd just make something up.
I might as well gain some goodwill while I'm keeping dry.
maybe gwen, but then again I should target someone who's much harder to curry favor with now. Seeing some of the shorter people had already placed their bags down near the edge, it was clear we'd be arranging by height—tall in the back, short in the front. Judging by my own height, I'd need to choose someone in the back row.
I walked up to a certain pale lady carrying what looked like a designer handbag. I tapped her shoulder coolly. "Do you hear that?"
Heather whipped around, looking quite aggravated. But when she looked me over, she seemed to lessen her tense glare. "Hear what?"
I gestured downward. "The dock. It's creaking pretty loudly. You might want to move your bag back a bit."
She scoffed, dismissive. "It's fine. This dock has probably been here for years."
I raised my hands in a 'suit yourself' gesture and walked away. I'd tried. What happened next wasn't my fault.
I positioned myself in the back row, and sure enough, Owen lumbered up to stand next to me, with Heather on my other side, still looking sulky about something.
Chris pulled out a camera, grinning like this was the highlight of his day. "Okay everyone, say 'Wawanakwa!' on three! One, two—"
CRACK!
The dock splintered beneath us. I'd been expecting it, so I was already moving, stepping back quickly. My "luckily" was already out and I grabbed Heather's waist, steadying her before she could topple forward into the water.
She looked stunned, her eyes wide as she glanced down at the broken boards, then at the water below where several of our teammates were now floundering, then back at me.
"You good?" I asked casually.
"I—yeah. Thanks," she said, she actually sounded genuine.
I decided not to press too much or make a big deal out of it. It was good enough that I'd already saved her from getting her hair wet, and more importantly, from looking like a fool on camera. It might pay off later.
After everyone had dried off and stopped complaining, Chris gathered us again. "Alright, now that we've all had a refreshing dip well, most of you, let me explain another feature of Camp Wawanakwa."
He gestured toward a small wooden structure that looked like it might collapse if someone sneezed near it.
"That," Chris announced proudly, "is the confessional. You will also be able to share your innermost thoughts on tape with video diaries anytime you want. Let the audience at home know what you're really thinking, or just get something off your chest. It's your chance to talk strategy, vent frustrations, or just... you know, confess."
I saw several people heading toward it immediately. Gwen went in first, Owen bounced on his heels, clearly eager for his turn.
I might as well give it a try.
Gwen stepped out after less than a minute, Owen was next and I headed in. The confessional was exactly as grim as it looked from the outside—cramped, smelled faintly old wood, luckily no one had used it yet. There had been a camera bolted into the wall at eye level for most.
I sat down on the toilet lid, facing the camera directly.
Well I might as well be honest. I gave the camera a polite smile. "I'm going to win." then gave a casual shrug.
Chris directed us toward the cabins, giving us thirty minutes to unpack and settle in. The Screaming Gophers cabin was about what I'd expected seeing the show and all. Rough wooden walls, bunk beds that had definitely seen better days, and at the entrance two doors dividing wall down the middle separating the guys side from the girls side.
I tossed my bags onto an unclaimed top bunk and started unpacking.
"Yo, dude!" Geoff appeared beside me, that cowboy hat slightly askew and a huge grin on his face. "I'm Geoff, man. Pretty sick that we're on the same team, eh?"
I turned and returned the smile. "Luther. Yeah, could've been worse."
Geoff had this easygoing, genuine energy that was hard not to like. We basically immediately hit it off as we talked about nothing in particular—where we were from, what we thought of the camp so far—I noticed his eyes kept drifting toward the window. Specifically, toward where Bridgette was visible outside, talking with some of the other girls.
I smirked. "So... Bridgette, huh?"
Geoff's eyes widened, and a flush crept up his neck. Then he laughed, rubbing the back of his head. "That obvious?"
"Just a little," I said with a grin.
"Yeah, man, she seems pretty cool," he admitted, trying and failing to play it casual. "Like, really cool."
Before I could respond, a large guy approached us, and despite his intimidating size, he had one of the friendliest faces I'd ever seen. "Hey, I'm DJ," he said, extending a hand.
"Luther," I replied, shaking it. His grip was firm but not aggressive.
Cody suddenly appeared in our little circle, adjusting his shirt and running a hand through his hair like he was preparing for a photo shoot. "Alright guys, I'm heading out to check out the ladies," he announced with completely misplaced confidence.
The three of us watched him strut out of the cabin.
"Twenty bucks says that ends badly," I muttered.
Geoff snorted. "Dude, I'm not taking that bet."
Duncan sauntered over a moment later, having just finished verbally destroying Harold, who shuffled away looking like a kicked puppy. "Duncan," he said simply, giving us a nod. Everything about him as seen was naturally giving off late 2000s bad boy vibes, the smirk, the posture, the way he was already sizing us up.
I nodded back.
"I'm Luther, Morningstar, it's good to meet you man" I said, making sure I had everyone's attention I add "Oh yeah, And I'm going to tell you guys something now" Geoff, DJ, and Duncan all turned to look at me.
I paused, meeting each of their eyes in turn.
"I definitely going to cheat to win this game."
Geoff with his easy smile seemed to form a sweat bead, uncertainty creeping into his expression. DJ looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Even Duncan raised an eyebrow.
"So... why tell us that?" Geoff asked carefully.
"Because," I said calmly, "when I do it, you can't say you weren't warned."
They didn't have the most positive response to my provocation, I could practically feel the trust I'd just built with Geoff evaporating, but I believed it was necessary. Better they knew now, before we got to the jury phase. Before votes really mattered. This way, when I inevitably had to betray someone, they couldn't act shocked.
Duncan actually looked almost impressed. "At least you're honest about being dishonest."
"Exactly," I said.
The little tension was eased when suddenly, a scream pierced the air, high-pitched, terrified, and coming from somewhere outside.
We all froze for a split second, looking at each other.
Then, as one, we bolted toward the door and headed toward the sound.