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It was the breeziest Courtney had ever felt going into a bonfire ceremony. Yes, they’d lost the challenge, and she was fully prepared to start strategizing again in the morning, but for right now everything just felt right. Duncan stood amongst their fellow Killer Bass members on the other side of the fire pit, meeting her gaze before giving a dramatic roll of his eyes at how much Chris was milking his time at the podium. Courtney ducked her head, a heat rising in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the burning embers of the fire.
Even when Bridgette and Geoff were called, leaving her in the usually precarious position of bottom two, she didn’t feel worried. For maybe the first time in this competition, her team actually felt like her friends. It was probably - definitely - sad to admit, but she’d never experienced that before. Every “team” she’d ever been a part of - debate team, model UN, student council - had all been so performative and impersonal for everyone involved. Courtney would call those people her friends but she knew it wasn’t the kind of friendship she read about in books or magazines; friends who made you feel at ease, who had your back unconditionally. Yes, she was aware that this was still a competition, but as long as the teams remained, there was a tentative, hopeful, nearly forgotten part of her that trusted the four people before her more than she had anyone else in a long, long time.
These thoughts wrenched to a halt when she realized Chris had cut himself off mid-monologue. She re-focused, expecting to see military personnel or aliens raining down on them since there wasn’t anything else she could think of that would make Chris surrender the spotlight. There was no surrender, though. The devious, snake-like expression curling across his features opened up a pit in Courtney’s stomach, and from the looks of her teammates she could tell they’d noticed the pause with equal trepidation.
“Now campers,” Chris said, setting the plate and final marshmallow atop the podium before reaching into the placket of his shirt, “we have an interesting development.” He produced a folded stack of paper and held it aloft. “See... according to the ballots we received in the ballot box, every. single. person. voted Courtney off.”
The pit in her stomach imploded, leaving her sick and dizzy. She barely heard the reaction of her teammates over the rush of blood in her ears.
Pressure built behind her eyes as her gaze ricocheted across their faces, landing finally on Duncan, or where he would have been had the punk not already taken several imposing steps in Chris’ direction. “Dude, no fucking way! ”
Chris jumped backwards, raising the ballots high in one hand and throwing the other up in front of him. “ Hey! Hold it, hold it, hold it!”
Geoff and DJ both reached to grab Duncan’s shoulders, and while he did stop, his expression was murderous. Chris continued quickly. “All six ballots were for Courtney, making me and the producers more than a little curious as to why one of our fiercest competitors would vote herself off. So we went back and had a looksie at the confessional booth footage.”
Chris inclined his head to where Chef Hatchet was laboriously pushing an old dolly with an even older projection set up the slope toward the bonfire. While Courtney by no means had her barings back, she still noticed how Harold’s shoulders had hiked up to his ears and he had scooted as far from her on the log stool as he could. Suspicion stirred in her mind but she was too rattled to interrogate it.
“Lights please!” Chris called. The array of tiki torches and lanterns surrounding the fire pit suddenly faded to nothing, the only light now coming from the bonfire and the harsh, white light of the mobile projector. “Chef, if you would be so kind, roll tape!”
Chef arranged the projector so it displayed on one of the massive, flat rock faces that walled in the area. He pulled a VHS tape from the front pocket of his apron and opened a compartment on the side of the projector. Before he inserted the tape, though, Harold burst to his feet. “Wait!” he screamed, throwing his spindly body in front of the lens. “Wait, you don’t have to show it.”
“Oh, don’t we?” Chris grinned.
Courtney’s nerves were frayed to the point of snapping. “ Harold.” She growled, rising to her feet with her fists clenched. “ What did you do?”
Duncan was next to speak, cracking his knuckles. “You are dead, shrimpy.”
Unaffected by their outbursts, Chris continued coolly. “You’ve got a choice here, Harold. We can either play the tape or not, but somebody has to walk the dock of shame tonight.”
Everyone had put the pieces together by now; even Geoff’s usual half-grin was soured in a glare. Duncan started toward their condemned team member, but Courtney beat him to it. Harold shrieked and covered his face, but instead of clocking him Courtney grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt. Though he had a good few inches of height on her, Courtney yanked him down with enough force that his knees buckled, putting them at eye-level.
Her voice simmered with intensity as she hissed his name. “You have exactly five minutes to get on that boat. Because if I watch what I think is on that tape and you’re still on this island, I promise that you are never. leaving it. Understand?”
“Yes.” He squeaked, eyes nervously flitting between her and the team.
The instant she released her grip he was gone, sprinting for all his worth back to the cabins. Courtney inhaled deeply through her nose, efforts to calm herself ruined by Chris chiding, “Easy, Courtney. Chef’s gonna escort him to make sure he doesn’t hide out anywhere and to make sure no one tries to deal out their own justice, vigilante style.” He chuckled. “Although that would be awesome. ”
For a second Courtney thinks she might actually punch Chris’ lights out, but the host is saved by Bridgette throwing her arms around her teammate. “Oh my gosh, Court! Those were like the worst two minutes of my life.”
Two minutes? Had all of that really just happened in two minutes. Courtney felt like she’d just stepped off a rollercoaster and her stomach was finally catching up with her. When Bridgette released her, she pressed the heels of her palms against her forehead and closed her eyes. There was sound and movement all around her but nothing concretely registered except for the rough, warm pressure of a hand sliding down her spine to rest at her lower back.
“You okay?” Duncan said into her ear, so quiet she wasn’t sure if anyone else heard.
His voice and his hand on her back were the anchors she needed to feel like she was on solid ground again. She dropped her hands from her face and her shoulders fell with them as she surveyed the teens around her. Bridgette was visibly the most affected, hazel eyes wide like Courtney would vanish if she blinked. Geoff and DJ wore similar looks of both sympathy for Courtney and anger for the situation, and Duncan…
Well, Courtney didn’t know what to make of the look he was giving her. It was somehow soft and warm yet still retained its fierceness from before. She wasn’t sure if it was the intensity of his gaze or the crash of adrenaline that made her shiver. “I’m good.” She tried to sound more confident than she felt.
“Man, that is one sick little dude.” DJ groused, crossing his arms over his chest.
Geoff added, “Yeah, Court, that was wickedly messed up. Sorry, brah.”
Courtney shifted her weight just a fraction to press more firmly into Duncan’s hand, forcing a steady exhale from her lungs. “I’m just glad he was dumb enough to make all of the ballots the same.”
“Seriously.” Duncan agreed, pulling her an inch closer.
She turned her head to look up at him, nerves settling enough to crack a smile. “You have any experience with voter fraud?”
“Pfffft, that’s weak shit.” He dismissed, though the corner of his mouth ticked upward.
The vice in her chest eased, and the airiness from before was returning. These were her friends , friends who were angry on her behalf and happy that she was still here. Friends that surrounded her with support but she knew would give her space if she asked for it. That was the last thing she wanted, though, threading her arm across Duncan's back.
“Anyone up for stealing some brownies from the mess hall while Chef’s distracted?” She asked.
Geoff whistled, “Heck yeah!” at the same time Duncan praised, “Atta girl.”
It was DJ who hesitated. “Sure you don’t wanna see the ginger twerp off, Court? I know I’ll be happy to see him go.”
Courtney hummed thoughtfully. “The look on his face would be pretty satisfying.” Her gaze flickered to Duncan’s with a mirrored grin. “If we’re quick we can do both.”
The expression on Duncan's face turned wolfish as he addressed the group. “You heard the lady.” He said and the five of them took off toward the mess hall, Courtney’s heart soaring with every step.