I didn't take my bandaged fist from my chin more than twice the whole twelve hours from London to Muskoka. Ten by plane, one by taxi, and the rest of it just sitting around and waiting for the helicopter to lift off each time it had to refuel. "When did you get a license to drive this whirlybird?" I asked that chubby, quiet intern - Stuart, if I remember, though I can't be bothered to care - as Melody bandaged up my right arm to match my left.

In response, he shrugged. Well, can't blame a guy for trying. He's been around Total Drama longer than even I have, and even when I interned for Chris myself and we hoisted cameras and fetched lattes and set up green-screens, I never heard him say a word. Frankly, I'm not sure I've seen him open his mouth. We ate lunch together every day back then, and I'm pretty sure he just absorbs sandwiches through his skin. Shlurp!

"There," Melody called above the whipping blades, leaning back on her heels as we chop, chopped our way across the Atlantic Ocean. She flicked her ponytail back over her shoulder and smoothed down the chronic wrinkles in her red 'Hello, I'm an intern for Chris McLean and probably suicidal' shirt. "You're set."

I tested my arm. She'd done a fair job with bandaging my eel bites, even though she dreamed of studying veterinary work and my interests tended towards the real medical field. Technically, it's her fault we all have to put up with Chris. I guess she and Jaxon are his little cousins three-times-removed, or his niece's children or something, and one day when he babysat them he got the idea to build an entire reality show around the recklessly stupid things teenagers will do for money. "Thanks," I muttered, and that was the last word either of us spoke until we touched down, loaded into the Lame-O-Sine that had come to pick us up, and pulled into Casa Dos Losers.

Casa Dos Losers was the successor to Season 1's post-elimination plaza, and it proved itself the younger sibling in all respects. The thing was double-decker, but cramped. There were half as many rooms as there had been at the Playa, so as time wore on we had to shift around and share. Really, the only thing it had going for it was the ballroom with the kitchen right off to the side and its floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Lake Wawanakwa. And since no one cared to put on a ball… Yeah.

Kevin climbed from the front of the Lame-O-Sine and, after popping our door, motioned us out with a wave of his dark hand. Stuart went off rubbing his eyes, and Melody followed him with her keys dangling from her neck. As Kevin revved the beaten car again so he could find a place to park it, I headed into the ballroom alone.

Not that I stayed alone for long.

Within minutes, I crossed paths with Harold in the kitchen as I began my hunt for anything relatively edible. For whatever reason, he was wearing a black shirt covered in a pattern of white bones in their proper anatomical positions. Over his usual blue one, no less. And if that weren't enough, Beth was there yanking porcupine quills from the back of his neck.

I… don't…

I leaned against the doorframe, folding my injured arms. "Nice costume, Harold. I knew your biological clock was set forward a few years, but your internal calendar too? Well, seeing as how I have not yet been showered in bags of candy corn, I'm going to take a wild guess and conclude that it's March, not Halloween, and that you were playing Dress-Up and Tea Party with Katie and Sadie. Again. Correct me if I'm wrong."

Harold grabbed the front of my sweater and stared pleadingly into my eyes- easy enough to do when he was kneeling on the floor. "I'm saved! Noah, you're the resident medic! Please, please tell me you brought a new bottle of cartoon physics pills. The ones I took are about to wear off, and I didn't get to wrestle a shark yet!"

"Cartoon-" My eyes widened. I threw him back, leaving his head to clang against the oven door. "Dude, no! What the heck? Did Izzy hook you up on rectanathre while I was gone? Those things are horribly illegal this far from the you-know-where! Wha- You're only supposed to take those if you visit the Four… You- You didn't."

"Wanna bet?" He grabbed his arm. "No!" Beth and I yelled together, too late. With a stomach-flipping crunch, Harold snapped his forearm into a zig-zag position that was most certainly not natural. And then laughed at it.

"It's okay," he said, walking towards me again. "It'll be fixed the next time you see me. I love these things."

I groaned and rounded on Beth. "Why did you let him take those? If he were any higher, he'd float off into space."

"Technically I'd die before I made it there," Harold corrected. "The atmospheric pressure would do me in."

Her eyes brimmed with tears behind her glasses. "We didn't, I swear! He just stumbled back into the Casa like a couple hours ago. He left two days back in the Lame-O-Sine, and I don't know where he went or why!"

"Well, obviously he went to the one town this half of Canada that lies directly on the Barri-"

I swear I heard thunder crackle. Beth and I both peeked out from the kitchen to the large windows in the ballroom. Gray clouds brimmed on the horizon.

"It's better," Harold announced, testing his arm again. And, sure enough, it had bubbled up and straightened itself in the course of the ten seconds I had looked away. "Hey, want to see what happens when I get smashed by the anvil?"

I grabbed his wrist and twisted. "Let me put this in terms you'll understand, Red Herring. Your insides are cookie dough right now. Seriously, you need your stomach pumped. I do hope that's a shirt you're wearing and not an X-Ray."

"Huh?" He squinted through his glasses and then looked down at himself. "Gosh! Am I still in this thing?" He tried to pull the skeleton shirt over his head, but only managed to knock himself over. Beth and I cringed as he rolled about on the floor ("Ow! Ow! Quills!").

"Get Kevin," I said, and Beth said, "On it," and bolted before I even finished. The future doctor in me forced myself not to abandon Harold, and I snacked on bread and cheese and strawberry jam until, mercifully, they came back and hoisted Harold to his feet by the shoulders.

"Come on, buddy," Kevin said. "Let's get you in the shower."

Satisfied, I left them to it. Licking the ends of my sandwich from my finger, I wandered the halls until I found the rear double glass doors that led out to the resort with the dirty beach (usually populated by sharks) and the pool (not usually populated by sharks).

Ah. Now, this was the welcome-back I'd expected. Blue tiles. A working golf cart. Colorful plants. Soft grass. Fake rubber palm trees dripping with coconuts. Picnic tables shaded beneath thatched overhangs. A buffet table laden with tasty fruits and less-tasty meets. True, while the arrangement wasn't nearly nice as Playa Des Losers itself had been (It didn't even have a swim-up smoothie bar- How messed is that?), it had still become a sort of home away from home to me.

I paused when I took a second glance about. Many of those lovely tropical plants had been torn up at the roots. All but one table was overturned, and white plastic chairs floated in the pool. Geoff, Bridgette, and Katie were in the process of fishing them out, tossing them up to Sadie and Leshawna. Smoothie sludge had splattered everywhere, along with various twigs and hamburgers. The radio played on from its tiny stand where a replica of Mr. Coconut stood guard.

"Hey, Fruitcake," Eva called from my left. She had a dumbbell cocked in either hand, and with a nod indicated the redheaded girl sprawled across the picnic table beside her, growling and clawing in her sleep. "You just missed the show. Iz here's sleeping off a sugar crash."

"Yeah, I was probably better off with the eels," I murmured. My gaze raked back and forth. Hurricane Izzy would have to be retired as a name.

Chuckling, she got up and came over to slap my shoulder. "You're still in one piece. I was worried. Well, mostly one piece, but I'll take what I can."

"I got taller than you," I realized, taking a sudden step back. "How long was I gone?"

"You've always been taller than me, dummy." Eva jabbed my nose. "You just never realized it before because your eyes were down here and your face is so much freakin' forehead."

"Blame my brain. Unlike Lindsay, my head serves a purpose." We embraced. "How's Izzy?" I asked when we finally stopped trying to put the other in matching headlocks. "Owen said she went freaky brainiac and the military took her away. Although I can see she's back to, well… 'normal'."

"Normal as she's gonna get," she agreed with a chuckle. She slipped a few strands of hair behind her ear and looked me up and down. "I got you some fudge while I was in Scotland. It's in the fridge and I can guarantee no one messed with it, 'cuz they know I'd pulverize 'em if they did."

I raised both eyebrows. "And just when did you go to Scotland?"

"Blaineley's power trip," she said, as if that explained everything. "Trent came too."

"… While I was being toted about through the Amazon, riding a zipline over a river of piranhas, facing down freakish monster caterpillars, and dealing with Izzy - and almost died - you went to Scotland."

"Well, I think you guys were in Japan. Or maybe it was the Yukon. But yes."

I shook my head. "Did you enjoy yourself, at least?"

"I had a mental breakdown."

"And Trent survived it?"

Eva bit her lip. "Actually, I had a lot of mental breakdowns."

Her eyes clearly said that she wanted me to ask, but I did the stupid thing- I wagged one finger in front of her face. "Whatever happened to holding your breath and counting to ten?"

"Ugh." After smacking my hand away, she folded her arms. "It's hard to keep calm when I know you're not around to watch me and be embarrassed by your best friend's boundless rage." Her face softened. "I really missed you, Noah."

Aaaannnd there it was. Little gooey comments like that had been springing up in a lot of our phone calls over the past several weeks. Before this moment could get any more sappy, I flipped the conversation around.

"Scotland was one of those places we never hit on our trip, although we did drop by England, which is why I'm here before you now. How was it?"

"Decent. Good food. Long, lousy flight."

"At least you didn't have to fly there with Izzy." I waved vaguely over my shoulder to indicate the trashed plaza. "They actually let you pass through the metal detectors with those fists of steel and skull of iron?"

She grinned. "Called it. See, I knew you'd say that."

I raised my eyebrows. "Yes, I see… In fact, somehow I presumed that when you said 'Called it'. Did you see the Loch Ness Monster?"

"No. Blaineley stayed here."

I'd been anticipating a deadpan 'Yes', so hearing her actual response made me crack up. Eva tried to keep her face straight, but she gave in, and we laughed for probably five seconds before we got a handle on our emotions.

"So. Scotland. Wow, didn't see that one coming. Did I miss anything else exciting while I was struggling not to be smothered alive in that mobile deathtrap?"

Eva thought about that for a minute. "Well, Harold ran away and joined a band of skelet-"

"Whoa, whoa, forget I even asked."

We trailed into silence. No awkwardness. Just content satisfaction in our gazes as we leaned our hips against the picnic table and studied one another for the first time in weeks. Izzy snarled in her sleep and bit down on her own wrist. The radio droned on and on.

"Everybody go surfin'! Surfin' USA!"

"Ugh, this music is driving me nuts. As a Canadian-born child, I also take personal offense at it."

The music didn't really bother me, but it gave us something to talk about. Eva usually didn't tackle me if I could keep her talking.

"Huh?" She cocked her head, and then realized which song was playing. "Oh here, lemme get that for you." She snapped her fingers, and the noise screeched to a halt and snapped into that 'Let's Get Down to Business' song from Mulan. Instantly Katie, Justin, and especially Bridgette broke into loud complaints, while Geoff sprang onto a table and pulled a delighted Sadie after him so they could duet the thing.

I shook my head. "It's been a year, and I will still never understand how you do that."

"Magic."

"It changes based on your emotions, I swear. Whenever you're near."

"Pssh, nah. That's just a coincidence. Maybe I just have connections in high places."

"If that's your primary gift, it's lame and I'm going to mock you until the day I'm cremated."

Eva wrinkled her nose. "Ouch. Or maybe a good pal of mine snuck me a remote. It's possible that I could have friends apart from you." She slugged me in the shoulder, above my bandages. "Come on, let's go get chips."

We went to get chips. With the bowl in my lap, I tossed myself down on one of the lounging pool chairs. There wasn't a second one nearby, so Eva hovered above me with her dumbbell.

"Was Germany everything you hoped it would be?"

"It was good."

"You said that was your first sentence, right?"

"Mmhm. First words I ever spoke: 'I go to Germany, Nikki. I go to Germany'. My dad's family used to live there, a few generations back. My great-grandma is still alive. We get calls and presents on our birthdays and the holidays and stuff, but none of us kids have ever seen her. Wish I could've had the time to look, but I wouldn't have known where to start. I doubt I'd have found her, but, well. We can pretend."

"I got to watch you dance on the Jumbotron. Looked like a loser." She dropped into the seat beside me. "Wish I could've been there to laugh at you in person."

"You would have liked the Amazon." I shook my head and crunched through another chip. "But the thought that you would rather be up there in that deathtrap instead of down here at a four-star resort just baffles me."

Eva lay her hand over my knee and squeezed (Whoa, hello!) "Well, yeah. Normally that would be pretty stupid, but it'd be worth it if I got to be with you."

The chips dried in my mouth. People don't squeeze knees on accident. Please no. Please no, please no, please no.

She'd… she'd developed a little crush on me.

I couldn't believe it. My hulking Iron Maiden, of all people, had succumbed to nature. Not that I could blame her - Noah Colby was quite a catch to be made - but blame is one thing, and irritation is another. She'd claimed on multiple occasions that she had no romantic feelings towards me, and never would. Lies, lies.

Perfect. Where once upon a time we'd passed hours sitting side by side with our feet in the pool, or exchanged laughs and petty gossip and snarky remarks, and she had called me Fruitcake and tousled my hair and plucked me up, set me against her shoulder, and carted me about like that… Gone. Now every movement, every word, read as an outright flirt. Every time she looked at me, I'd have to wonder if she really cared about the perfect joke I'd made after her deliberately-perfect set-up, or if she was just thinking about how much she'd like to shove her lips into mine.

She'd stabbed the knife in our friendship like it didn't matter anymore. The Brain and the Brawn, king and queen to Ezekiel's empire of losers, were dying. And I'd had no say in the matter. Was that really fair?

"Fruitcake?" she asked, frowning at my eyes. Even when I shifted my knee, she didn't remove her hand from my leg. It just stuck there, like cold, slithering seaweed.

"All yours," I said, passing her the bowl of chips. "I've got to use the bathroom. Sit tight."

Eva wrinkled her brow as I got up. "Um. Okay."

On my way up the stairs to the second floor of rooms, I passed Beth. "Hey," I said, squeezing by along the wall, "how's Harold?"

"Still ditzy. Took Kevin five minutes to wrestle him into the shower, but I think the effects of those CPs are starting to wear off."

I pointed my thumb at the doors. "Glad to hear it. Do you know which of these rooms is mine?"

"There aren't any left that aren't taken, so you can have your pick of Geoff, Harold, Trent, or Justin."

"Easy choice, then."

"Good to see you again."

"Good to see you too."

In my - slash - Trent's bathroom, I used the toilet and then clenched the edges of the sink with pale knuckles as I listened to it swirl and sing away. Dear heaven, I was a mess. I hadn't had the chance to look at myself since the jumbo jet confessional cam. My fuzzy brown hair was still fritzed from my plunge following my cruel elimination. Bloodstains decorated my shirt, like on the undersides of my sleeves. If there were any more across my sweater vest, they vanished in the stitches. Blowing out a long sigh, I splashed water all down my face and along my collar.

She wanted to kiss me. You know what? Maybe I'd let her. Apparently that was all I was to her now, and at least that was better than having her drop me after our year of being the best of friends.

I wished I had candy corn. Oh, cruel fate, to curse me with a stupid addiction for a comfort food that only shows up in the stores one season a year. Perhaps that was karma- I'd never gotten over my brattiness as a child, I had to deal with my pathetic cravings for nine months at a time without a way to satisfy them. Made sense to me.

Still, the creamy goodness… Two minutes in, down goes the inner sadist. Next to fall, my deep loathing for a choice few of my fellow contestants. Then the cynicism altogether. Keep eating and before long, Noah Colby had been quailed and he wasn't such a bad person to be around after all. And he sucked at crossword puzzles when that happened, but that was beside the point.

Eva wasn't sitting in that same spot with the chips when I returned outside, but I did find Izzy dangling from a decorative lamppost that would soon be glowing as the late afternoon wore into evening. Once I'd called her name enough times to get her attention, I crossed my arms. "Did you get Harold addicted to illegal drugs?"

"Is that what those are?" Izzy laughed and swung herself upside-down on the post so she clung to its arm with all fours like a sloth. "Whoops! I told him they were marshmallows. Or breath mints. I can't remember which, but if they don't want us teenagers getting into them, they really shouldn't design those things to look like such yummy treats."

"Giselda Atalanta Garcia, this isn't funny. Harold almost killed himself because of you."

She stopped laughing, her grin twisting into a scowl. "Okay, yeah, no. First of all, we've been over this. I don't really like it when you call me that, and second of all, he can't die, okay? Street name 'Cartoon Physics' for a reason, uh-huh. Worst case scenario, he gets like a Disney death or something."

"Unless the pills wear off just as he hurls himself off a thousand-foot cliff into waters infested by crazed man-eating sharks!"

Izzy shrugged without letting go. "We all survived that without CPs."

"Okay, bad example." I tapped my knuckles against my forehead. "I watched him split his arm into like six pieces. Do you know how much internal bleeding that would have caused him if his bones hardened up again before that was fixed? Do you know how much physical therapy he would need for the rest of his entire life?"

"Well, he could just swallow some more pills, right? Snap it back to normal, no prob."

I slapped my right knuckles to my left palm as I plowed on. "In what universe is stimulating his addiction and causing insatiable cravings and chronic reliance to the point of physical resistance, eventual mental combustion, and acidic dissolving of his vital organs to the point where his own heart decides to commit suicide a good solution to this problem?"

Izzy checked herself over, shivered, then plastered another smile on her face. "Yeah, well, correlation doesn't equal causation, right? I don't get why you're making this into such a big deal. Geoff and I pop those things all the time, and we've always come out okay."

"Yes, but you're sane!"

She stared at me like I was the one jacked up here. I smacked my forehead, then regretted it immediately when a wave of pain shot through my arm.

"I just meant that you know better than to break yourself on purpose, Izzy. Harold was too high to care back there. Rectanathre is illegal away from the" - I glanced up at the black clouds and cursed myself inwardly for my own cowardice - "you-know-where for a reason. Where did you even get those?"

"Back on the jet." Izzy swung down from the lamppost and landed lightly on the slick blue tiles. "When I saw Zeke sneak up to the kitchen this one time, I went down and found like a whole bunch of cases in the cargo hold."

Oh, no.

"Has he… has he gotten into them too?"

She considered that. "Well, at first the crate lid was stuck on super tight, but I don't think I actually closed it when I left, so he probably has by now, yeah, probably. Between you and me, I think Chef's been sneaking them into our food." She made jazz hands. "Creeeepy!"

I rubbed my jaw. "Maybe he'll be all right? He claims his thing's having a strong stomach, and he's always gotten over Chris's sedatives faster than anyone. Maybe drugs pass through his system pretty easily." Giving up, I turned my back and scanned the poolside. Leshawna snacked on crackers as she paced alongside DJ. Trent kicked a football towards Katie and Sadie in the grass. Justin used his mirror to reflect sun in my general direction, aiming for my eyes. Geoff and Bridgette paddled about in the pool.

Cue pining sigh through nostrils. Bridgette.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. It never would have worked out, anyway. Bridgette was vegetarian, and she got most of her protein from peanut butter. Which I was deathly allergic to. Ezekiel had already demonstrated very well what happened when one's sensitive lips met hers after she'd gone at one of those sandwiches.

Sometimes I wondered though, if I could just get her alone for a few minutes, just like we used to back at Playa Des…

… Geoff climbed out of the pool and started for the buffet. He flicked his hand towards me as he passed. "S'up, Noah dude! Totally wicked eel-wrestling you did after you jumped. Awesome."

Okay, sure. I'm not one to look at horse mouths or let opportunity pass me by. I started for Bridgette. Unfortunately, before I came within two meters of her, she shot me a nasty glare.

"Thanks for leaving me with my tongue stuck to that pole."

"You're welcome."

"Seriously? Seriously? I was stuck to a frozen pole in the Yukon." She stuffed her fists between her knees, but the glare didn't go away. "Tyler I don't blame- he was tied to the sled, and he lives in such a bubble anyway that it's a wonder he even looks around when someone calls his name. Izzy doesn't understand others' pain or distress, and if memory serves, she also had radioactive goop dripping into her eyes. But that hurt, Noah. I thought we were friends. Was that payback because I pushed you away when you cuddled up to me for warmth?"

I rubbed behind my neck. "… Yes. And I'm sorry. That was very immature of me. I was bitter at the time- my favorite emotion. Between that and the fact that we were edged out of victory and First Class twice in a row, I didn't want to ask the others to stop the sled for you. I just wanted to win."

Her eyes lost their sting just a bit. I guess she found some empathy for me- after all, her team had lost all three legs leading up to her elimination. "Okay," she sighed, "I know I'm going to regret this, but apology accepted. I reacted out of instinct. When I shoved you, I mean. You really caught me off guard with that hug."

"I was cold. You were there."

"Uh-huh," she said, then dropped the skeptical tone for one with an accusing edge. "You did know I was still with Geoff, right?"

"Didn't stop Alejandro."

Her face reddened. I braced myself for an outburst, but it never came. Of course it didn't, because this was Bridgette, remember? She doesn't let frustration go to her head. Instead, she wrapped her arms around her stomach and looked down at her lap. "All right. So you and I both got a little carried away in the heat of the moment. Of all people, I shouldn't be the one jabbing fingers here."

"You shouldn't blame yourself." I drummed my own fingers on my leg. "He got Leshawna too, and was working on Heather last time I saw him. He's just the Anti-Me with an actual working brain switched to On in his oh-so-shapely skull."

Bridgette shook her head, still flushing, but she was also smiling. "You and Justin are never going to outgrow those nicknames, are you?"

"I won't until he does. Lindsay started it."

"Mm." She touched her ear. "Well, I'm sorry for being a hypocrite."

"I'm sorry for going through life with a pole crammed up my rear end."

She chuckled, and I couldn't help but grin at my own play on words. "Trust me, there are worst places it could get stuck. Thank you for apologizing to me, Noah. It means a lot to me, and especially since I know it isn't easy on your ego."

I shrugged. Normally, yes, but this is Bridgette, and Bridgette doesn't regularly make people feel like idiots. "It's been bruised before. I'll rebound through the awesome powers of neural plasticity. Izzy and Eva will make sure of it."

"Okay, so truce, then. I'll forgive and forget if you will."

"Already done." And I meant it. So Bridgette had rejected me on international television, just to immediately turn around and chase after some shirtless dude just because he smothered her in flattery and had carved abs. But so what? The important thing was, she'd recognized her mistake, she'd said her sorries. And she'd forgiven me for slithering into her personal space and putting my cold, awkward hands around her shoulders. She still saw me as a friend. And I didn't have many of those. The guilt I'd been hefting throughout the competition faded like Chris's conscience. I let my smile stretch a little wider.

Bridgette gazed up at me with a mischievous little gleam in those apple-green eyes. "I can see your teeth haven't rotted away from candy corn after all. I'll buy you a bag for your thoughts."

I tapped my chin. "Well, I honestly do apologize for leaving you with your tongue on that pole. And for coming out of nowhere with that hug."

"And I told you, you're forgiven." She smiled. "Would you like a real one now?"

… Was she serious?

Turns out, yes. Because she really was that good of a person. Bridgette stood and tucked her arms behind my shoulders, leaving me no choice but to lean my head against her neck. Not that I was complaining.

It was a warm hug. A soft hug. She didn't try to strangle me. Drawing in a little breath, I shut my eyes. Okay, I'll confess it- I felt a flutter surge all through me, top to bottom. Despite me being who and what I was, how couldn't I? For just one moment, I was holding my sweet, caring, funny, forgiving, pretty, gentle vegetarian surfer princess. Eat your heart out, Homeschool.

But I knew how this story went. The snarky cynic didn't get the nice girl. The party dude did. Because he was the pretty one, the fun one, and the one who could give her what I wouldn't have been able to bring myself to do. And in the end, Bridgette loosened her arms. I did the same, and we pulled apart. We gave each other awkward expressions that were half grimaces and half something happier.

"There's Geoff," I said, and Bridgette was only too grateful for the distraction. With Geoff came Eva, who smiled a tight-lipped smile at me, her hands clasped behind her back. Sauntering after her was Katie, glimmering with unease. Sadie trotted at her heels, but she grinned in her typical tiger-kitten way.

"Missed you, Noah," she called, shooting me in the heart with her finger guns and clicking her tongue.

"Didn't miss you."

"Didn't miss me with what? Cupid's arrows?"

"Feh. I walked into that one. Full points to you. I'll get you next time."

She saluted. "I look forward to it, sir."

Katie had more serious business to get down to. "Hey, Noah. You got to see Zeke in person up there, didn't you? When Chris tossed him out the side of the jet again? Did he look sort of green to you?"

"Rather sickly and zombieish. His vitamin-D deficiency probably doesn't help- Chris shipped his stuff on the helicopter back with Harold, and I'm betting his medicine went with it. Purely guessing, he's not getting enough iron in his diet and it's left him with anemia. Hence the discoloration. Speaking of which, where is he? I'm actually not too keen on turning my back to him."

They both stared at me. "Noah," Katie said, "you know he's still on the plane, right?"

A light jitter began in the backs of my knees. "Homeschool… isn't here? But Chef hurled him out at 30,000 feet."

"Because that stopped him so well last time," Sadie grunted, dropping her smile at once. "Cockroach."

I scratched my collar. "Wow. I guess I should have figured that, or he'd have been on my helicopter ride back."

Eva gave me a curious glance. "You didn't see him when you jumped, did you?"

"I had corgis in my parachute, Eva. Plus, I landed in eels." I held out my arms for emphasis. "Forgive my less-than-stellar powers of observation, but I was a little occupied at the time."

Katie said, "He totally grabbed onto like, the landing gear as he fell. The helicopter cam caught the whole thing. It was sooo scary, but mostly epic." She giggled. "True, he went a little nutso there for a few minutes, but I knew there was a reason I liked that guy."

The blood trickled out from my face. I sat down in the nearest plastic chair, slowly. "Then Zeke went back to the cargo hold, didn't he? That's not a good thing. He needs to get out of there. He's flipped. Alejandro said he overheard Chris call him 'half-feral'. You saw the episode then, didn't you? He needs a therapist, bad. Plus, Izzy thinks he's gotten hooked on CPs."

Eva looked around the plaza. "Well, there's nothing we can really do about that, now is there?"

Sadie nodded. "Courtney was like, the only one who knew Chris's number. And besides that, Blaineley hid all the phones somewhere after a certain prank call incident to a certain someone's little brother."

Geoff winced. "My bad. Hey, at least he brought us that pizza. Enough for everyone!" He pointed up at the sky. "You rock, Curtis dude!"

I stared into the water. Never since I'd met him had I ever liked Ezekiel, simply because if I was North, he was South. On absolutely everything. He was clueless. He was gullible. He was easily coaxed into joining prank wars that mainly involved him doing the others' dirty work and then taking the fire. Heck; Geoff, Cody, and Tyler had dragged him into a panty raid and sent him straight into Eva's den. Too desperate for friends, he had simply picked his bruised body up and followed their lead again. He had only three emotions (Enthusiastically happy, I've-quit-caring frustrated, and my personal favorite: absolutely drop-dead terrified) and he flipped between the three so naturally that I'm still not convinced he isn't bipolar.

Or Izzy, for that matter.

It was just… Despite my brains, despite the two seasons we'd spent locked in one another's company in the respective elimination resorts, I still didn't understand Zeke - I doubt even Beth did - and that made him as big a wild card as DJ. Ezekiel was shy… and simultaneously outspoken. Easily distracted, but with a one-track mind when it came to following through. A real mess. Completely unpredictable, since you never knew just what he was going to do, only that when he did it he would somehow screw up everything, like that was his gift instead of the resistance to food-poisoning thing. He rarely showered. Brushed his teeth, rarer still. He was still in his hip-hop faze- Dear heaven above, I really hated that.

Because he'd been eliminated first in Season 1 and been the first to set foot in Playa Des Losers, Homeschool considered himself its emperor, and the rest of us his subjects forever after. The guy couldn't take a hint if his arm depended on it, which it had on at least a dozen occasions that I could count. Even when he'd grovel in the dust before Eva's raised fist, the bright look in his gray eyes was always so full of arrogance… of, 'Well, that didn't work, so I'll just try something else tomorrow, and if the same thing happens then I'll try something else, eh, 'cuz The Zeke ne'er e'er gives up and'-

Oh, geez.

I leaned back in my chair, my face towards the sky but my eyes squeezed shut.

"Come on, guy! After all this, you gotta let me back in!"

"Well, I just think it's more about havin' the cash than actually spendin' it, eh?"

"You heard what Geoff said. All the cool kids'll be out there."

"It ain't fair, eh? The Zeke was 'licked first; seems like maybe he deserves to be competin' on Season 2."

"If I just had money, maybe then you guys'd like me, and I'd have friends."

"Nah, I don't wanna open it. It's always mean stuff about what I said 'bout girls that one time, not fanmail like Noah gets."

"Aw, I wish I had some a' that, uh, 'dough'. I'd buy Bri'gette those earrin's, and maybe then she'd like me."

"Sadie scares me, eh? She's always yellin' 'bout the pool filter thing. She e'en made Katie stop wantin' to, um, 'hang' with me."

"They threw me in a tarpit and then froze me solid, homes! Huh. Some friends."

"I really want Beth to win, but I kinda want her to lose too so she can be here again, y'know, if that makes any sense. She's kinda my only real friend, an' I really miss seein' her, eh?"

"Okay, Noah. Just let me know when you change your mind, and we can be friends. Word."

And, lest we forget, that moment during our flight from Newfoundland to Jamaica when I had caught Cody slinking up from the cargo hold, and he'd spilled everything: "He's befriended the killer goats. He said they were better friends to him than I was."

The cards spread before me like a winning game of Solitaire, I saw now what I had missed day after day after day. Ezekiel's fatal trait was that he would do anything just for someone to pat his shoulder and say they liked him. The pattern had been there the whole time. That was the missing link in my earlier soliloquy on how I considered him so unpredictable. While I'd been making friends with Eva and Bridgette, every glaringly-obvious clue had managed to slip under my radar. I just hadn't cared until I realized that a guy - a genuinely nice guy who mostly did mean well - was spiraling so far down the slope of insanity with no one to pull him out. There were only so many pieces you could snap in a puzzle before it was complete. Only so many straws the camel's back could hold.

"We've lost him," I said without opening my eyes. "If Chris doesn't get him off that plane fast, we've lost him."

"Who; Tyler?" Katie asked.

I blinked and sat up, realizing then that the others had continued their conversation without me.

"Ezekiel." Biting my lip, I flicked my thoughts back to the jet, when Chris had yanked that sack from his head and revealed his face to us for the first time in five weeks.

"I was gonna let him back in the game if he could avoid capture, but since he could not…"

His sickly, greenish face, bloodshot eyes, ruffled hair… he hadn't even had his toque.

"He totally grabbed onto like, the landing gear as he fell."

The toque he'd claimed he hadn't removed by choice for three years.

"It's called landin' gear, homie! I climbed it, and hid with the cargo."

And suddenly he seemed past the point of caring about his beloved hat. It was like after the constant blanking, the constant teasing, the constant rejection, something inside him had finally snapped.

And I was scared of him.

"Found 'im in the cargo hold, home-schooling with the rats."

I lowered my face into my hands. Yes, I understood that - logically - it was stupid to blame myself for his tipping over the edge. Stuffing himself in the cargo hold with all the animals for several weeks was his choice, not mine. Losing his hat? Didn't do it. Going wallflower, or even half-feral? Yeah, not my fault. But - emotionally - I'd always been the kind to do that to myself. When you get used to taking all the credit, you get used to taking all the blame, too. I think it comes from being the runt in a family of nine siblings. You're always underfoot. You're always looking for attention. You're always wanting to play with the big boys. You're always being shot down. Because you're too little, too annoying, too sensitive, too likely to squeal, too everything unwanted…

"Forget it, Homeschool." "Get lost." "Can't you see we're busy?" "Oh, joy. What does Chris's little suck-up want now?"

… I needed candy corn. Which, as I have already pointed out, I was never going to find in March. Whatever I'd done for that karma, I hoped I deserved it well.

Regardless, I wanted a distraction. I got up in the middle of Sadie rambling something about Duncan and Gwen and headed for the hotel. Instantly, Eva tailed me like a gosling.

"Yeesh, Fruitcake- you look like you just choked down a glass of Chef's ground mystery meat. Twice. Lemme know if it tastes better coming back up than it did going down."

I pulled open one of the double glass doors, not turning around. "Is the green-screen still here?"

She paused. "Yeah. Up the hallway, in the closet way across from the ballroom, just like last season."

"Good. I want to make one final confessional. I am not going out on the corgi one."

Eva chuckled. Folding her arms behind her back, she followed me down the hall. "Must've missed that part. What happened? Don't tell me Fruitcake was cooing at a witty-bitty puppy dog on camera. Homesick for Hildegard much?"

"Look, Eva." I turned around, and Eva pulled half a step away. "I missed you too, and I can't wait to really sit and get caught up again like old times, but I just need my space right now."

She frowned. "Oh. Sorry."

She didn't move as I walked off.

The closet confessional looked just the way I remembered it, which meant that it was a perfect metaphor for Chris's heart- empty. Its only decor were one large lime green curtain hanging against the back wall, and a small stool also covered in a green cloth. Flicking on the lights, I plopped down on the stool and placed my chin in my sore hands. For a long time I stayed that way, my eyes fixed on the blinking red dot on the camera on the door. I worked through a few snarky comments in my head, then discarded all of them. No matter what insults I spat at my old teammates now, it still didn't change the fact that I was here at the Casa, and he was still laughing it up on the plane.

I rubbed my thumbs along my jaw. "Okay, this could be put right after my jump, if you haven't finished the editing process already. Although knowing you, Chris, it's probably been wrapped in ribbons and mailed off to the producers already. I swear, you have no life outside of this show whatsoever."

Clearing my throat, I shifted the legs of my red and white stool. Pushed back my hair. Right. Breathe.

"Well, look at that," I said, pretending to take great interest in my bandaged arms. "So that slimy eel managed to get me after all. Of course, that wasn't the worst thing that happened to me today."

Or yesterday. Magic of digital editing, brah.

"Honestly? I'm pissed that I got voted off after London. I mean, seriously? What's that about, McLean? My team won that challenge!" Sigh. "But our lovely host guy makes the rules, and what Chris wants to do, Chris does. At least I outlasted Lindsay this time around. But urrrgh!"

I leaned my seat back on two legs, pressing my fists to my eyes. "Tyler, Tyler, Tyler! I was so distracted with keeping Alejandro away from Owen, I completely forgot how downright flighty ol' Court-Shoes-on-Ice was. Yes, even after Jamaica. Tyler, you… you…" I balled my fists, then released them. "Okay. In this world, there are those with brawn, and those with brains. Obviously, brains are far superior to brawns in every form, way, and shape. I mean, have any of you out there actually read a novel? You oughta try it for a change. Challenge your brain stems. You need it, honey."

Three fingers. "And then there comes a third variable into the world: Tyler Horatio Thompson. Who, if asked to walk a straight line, would firstly get distracted by a passing beetle and wander off after it, then trip over his own feet and roll down a hill into oncoming traffic. All without touching a drop of alcohol, mind you. It's bad enough I lost the game to a stupid, muscle-minded jock. Infuriating that said 'jock' is such only in his own head. I told you, there are brains and brawn in this world- you land yourself one or the other, no in between, unless life decides to downright strip you of either one. Take Lindsay, for example. No wonder you two deserve each other- you're total mirrors! And yes, Homeschool, I did just insult a girl on camera. Bite me- we all know it's true."

Even in his half-feral state, I could see him glaring at me, his teeth drawn back in his favorite 'Tch'. For part of a second I closed my eyes, and imaginary Ezekiel scolded me with a tight-jawed, "Why don't anybody get mad when you say it, homes? Just 'cuz they think you're all funny an' cute?"

Pretty much, yeah. I can't help myself if I'm the fan favorite.

"And Tyler, you're no better. Was I somehow subtle when I pointed out Alejandro's manipulative ways? You couldn't think strategy for longer than ten minutes- Just like every brainless, steroid-junkie, masochistic, full-of-themself jock out there. Ooh, I can see your abs! Wow, too much information. You get those carved from all the times you've belly-flopped instead of dived?"

With a snort, I shook my head. "Dude, get with the program already! You suck, okay? You suck at everything. Half the time your own girlfriend doesn't remember you. I'm sorry for leaving you tied up and stretched out on the torture rack like that, but you didn't have to go and stab me in the back when we made a freakin' alliance against Al together, and you especially didn't have to look me in the eyes and lie about it! Why? Why would you lie? And why didn't I see it coming?"

I took a deep breath. Whoa. Keep it together, Colby.

You know, I really hoped Chris wouldn't take the 'I can see your abs' comment and put it somewhere out of context.

… What was I doing here? Besides ripping on Tyler, anyway. Come to think of it, 'ripping' was all I'd ever done in confessional. Evidently, confessing wasn't really in my blood.

I glowered at the camera, partially wishing that I wasn't above flipping Chris off for the remainder of my confession. I mean, really? First he screwed me over and got me eliminated despite my team's victory - despite my actually getting my rear in gear and helping to secure my team's victory - and then he filled my parachute with corgis and sent me plummeting into a pond of electric eels. Did this guy's sadism have no bounds?

As I continued to glower at the camera, it finally clicked in my head that said camera's red light was blinking on and off. Which meant that it wasn't rolling.

You've got to be-

Smart as I liked to believe I was, I'd still just been duped by an inanimate object. Gritting my teeth, I got up, walked over to the door, and flipped the switch on the camera. The light went solid. Then I flopped back in my seat. I repeated my first comment about my annoyance at being voted off in a round where I should have had immunity, but this time around I kept my thoughts on Tyler tucked away. Even for me, it seemed petty to start yelling about the stereotypically-brainless jocks on this show a second time.

Instead, I turned my commentary on some of the others still stuck in the plane. "Owen? Never let it be said I don't give credit where credit is due. You won us that last challenge, big guy, and don't let Chris ever convince you otherwise. But with Alejandro and Duncan on your team now, you'd better watch your backside twice as hard. And while you're at it, maybe use more toilet paper. I can think of a certain witch's hair extensions that would do nicely for the job.

"Cody? Smack Courtney off her high pony for me. And good luck with Sierra. I'm not saying there are bottles of chloroform in the floor compartment of the cockpit, but there are totally bottles of chloroform in the floor compartment of the cockpit. If you don't hit her with those and toss her out the plane somewhere over the Atlantic, you're a better man than I am.

"Al? You couldn't have chosen a worse alliancemate if you tried. Tyler's going to stumble over his own big toe and screw you over too someday, and I will clap my hands slowly and guffaw.

"And Homeschool?" I paused. "Yeah, you grabbed me from behind and threw me in the corner of a bus, and… I have to confess that you impressed me. I had no idea you could leap so high with such scrawny legs. 'Half-feral' or not, I know Ezekiel Foster is still in there. So seriously, take care of yourself, dude. And look me up when you decide you want a therapist. You watched me for eight weeks back at the Plaza as I tamed Eva's dragonfire. You've got nothing on her. You wouldn't stop believing in me, so I won't stop believing in you."

Then I groaned and made a Cut gesture across my throat. "Actually hearing that come out of my mouth, I realize that sounds like a line out of a crappy anime dub. Maybe we're all better off not airing this bit after all."

I stood by the closet door and thought for a moment. On the one hand, I wasn't the one paying for film and batteries. On the other, cash for that probably came out of the interns' own pockets, and it wasn't really fair for them to get dragged into this. I'd been there once.

So, I turned off the camera and went back into the hallway. Eva was still standing there vaguely where I'd left her. She leaned against the frame of the door that led to the dining hall. Arms crossed. Lips pursed. Brow down. It dawned on me then.

Oh.

My.

Crud.

I sighed, pressing my fingertips to my forehead. "All right, let's get this over with. How much of my cynicism made it past the door?"

"Nothing."

Not with my luck.

"Eva, you know I…" I made a rolling motion with my arms (while in my head, Katie and Sadie broke into 'The wheels on the bus go round and round'- so not helping). "… like you well enough. But I've had a rough couple of days. I was just blowing off steam. Those comments about jocks were directed purely at Tyler. I know full-well you aren't brainless. Believe me, I know."

Eva tightened her eyelids. Her lips began to move. I edged back towards the confessional-room door as she reached ten. Then twenty. Then fifty. Only after that did she open her eyes.

"You wanna know what's chafing my butt, Noah?"

I swallowed. 'Noah' was a bad sign. "I-I'm sure you're about to tell me."

Okay, Homeschool- I lied about taming the dragon out of Eva. She'd tamed herself, choosing to reel in her anger when I was around simply because I had somehow slipped across her teasing barrier, and she happened to like me. Sure, I grew up the runt of the litter and had long since learned to fend for myself. That didn't mean Iron Woman didn't make me just a little bit anxious when she got mad.

She was probably about to get mad.

"It's you." No sugarcoating, no beating around the bush- just flat-out diving into it in that way I'd thought I loved her for. "I haven't seen my best friend for six weeks. And when you finally show up" - swiping motion - "You pretty much blank me! I mean, what is that? I-" Her voice splintered. She hung her head. "I missed you guys so much. You and Iz. You can't be here and blank me. That's worse than you staying gone. You know I have borderline personality disorder. You know my mom left my dad when I was too small to remember her and my sister abandoned us years ago too. I don't want to lose anybody else. That's why-"

She stopped herself.

My lip eased out from between my tight teeth. "That's why… what, Iron Woman?"

Eva rubbed her shoulder. Nervous tics didn't look good on her. She just wasn't the type. "Um. Look, Noah. I know I'm going back on every promise we've ever made and that's kinda dumb, but I was wondering, if… if you'd be my boyfriend."

And there it was. Bright with static electricity. Not even I could live in denial anymore. Ruined, ruined, ruined. Nothing gold can stay.

I averted my gaze into the ceiling, and I swallowed as my hands shook. "I missed you too, Eva. Not a day went by when I didn't think about you. You know you're my best friend. Have been for a year now and I thought we always would be. But that's all I want to be to you. I don't want to be your boyfriend. I don't want to flirt or kiss or sleep with you. I don't want to wake up and roll over and find you snoring beside me. I don't want any of it. I just want us to be what we used to be. The thing I love the most about you is that I love being your best friend."

Incredulous, she stared at me. "Did you just say 'No'?"

My tongue dabbed across my upper lip. I wilted into the corner. "Eva-"

"You weren't supposed to say 'No'."

My injured arms went up to shield my face, but she grabbed them and slammed them into either of the two walls where they met. I stared down at her, the inch of height difference tasting more like a meter, my breath catching and scraping in my throat. "E-Eva, the eel bites. That smarts."

Her nostrils flared with a huff. "I can't keep doing this anymore, Noah. You can't string me along, lead me on forever. This is Season 3. Look at us. We're growing up. I… I need to know you're gonna be there for me, okay? Because I wonder if every phone call is going to be the last one, every dumb joke the last dumb joke, every tackle the last time we'll ever touch, and i-it's tearing me apart, wondering when you're gonna leave me."

"Eva, I'm your best friend!"

I shouldn't have shouted it, but I… I don't do well being pinned against the walls. My mom didn't have a very good life back in India. I was only six or seven when she told my dad the things her first husband did to her. They didn't know I was listening, wide-eyed on the stairs with my empty plastic water cup clutched in my fat hands. They didn't bother sugarcoating his "I want you"s and "It's your duty as my wife"s. Maybe your sexual orientation stems from what you grow up believing - and fearing - about married life and love, and maybe you're just born like that, and maybe it's a piece of both. Either way, I loathed myself for stuttering, for shouting, for stutter-shouting.

"I've been your best friend for over a year, long-distance! I call you every weekend, Eva! Exception being this season due to my phone lacking international coverage, which we talked about beforehand, I've never missed one. Even when Izzy drags us on some crazy road trip and we're in the same car, I've never missed one! Sometimes I even call you twice, w-when I could tell from your voice that you still need it as I hang up. Iron Woman, listen to me! If I didn't care so deeply about you and our f-friendship, would I do that? Eva," I yelped as her thumbs sank deeper into the gashes beneath my bandages, "I'll always be there for you, but as your best friend. You don't need to do this!"

Her sickly, pale, amber-brown eyes hardened like sap. "Make your choice, Noah. Either you go out with me, or we can… we can be done. I'd rather rip the band-aid off sooner and find a realer friend who won't ditch me. Please… please don't make me do this anymore. This isn't how I want to treat you."

"Eva, I would never ditch-"

"But this isn't how I want to be treated, either." The tears began to leak along her nose. Eva screwed up her eyelids. She loosened her grip on my left hand and jabbed her forefinger into my chest. "I don't care if you're asexual. We both know your parents aren't gonna let you stay unmarried your whole life without disowning you or something. You really think your wife's gonna be okay with us being so close? You really think she's gonna let me put you in a headlock or carry you around in my arms? You think she's gonna let you keep up those weekend phone calls? No! It's gonna start small, and then i-it's gonna landslide like an avalanche. I'm gonna lose you, and then… that's it. And I don't want that to be it. Either be my best friend and really mean it when you say you've got my back, or tell me to get lost. Punch me in the face. Tell me in a way I understand! J-just make it stop before it hurts any more than it's already gonna. If we're real friends, then here's your chance to prove it. Let me have this."

I blinked. "That's… not fair. Why can't this be about what I want? Eva, we agreed early on that we saw each other as surrogate siblings. You knew what I was when you signed up to be my friend, or at least we figured it out fast. You helped me come to terms with my sexual orientation when I tried to force myself to crush on Bridgette. Remember that afternoon, Eva? At Playa Des Losers?"

"And you pretty much knew what I was when our friendship started, too. I have a disorder. What's your excuse?"

There wasn't one. I gaped at her, the wheels spinning, but Noah Aruna Colby found himself speechless. Picky boy, the voices taunted me in my head. Got a girl on her knees with hands clasped, and you just go and turn up your nose at her. Regular little heartbreaker, aren't you?

And not just any girl, but one of the only girls I'd ever met who could actually make me smile and laugh. What were the chances I'd find another someone special like that, who honestly and truly liked me back, bratty cynic that I was? Whose strengths supported me, protected me, were useful to me?

She tightened her fingers around my wrists. I could see our first and only kiss - me dangling upside-down from that tree in my backyard at the farewell party just before Season 3, she grabbing my face and slamming it into hers without permission - spinning through her eyes. "Well?"

"… I'm sorry," I said. The sizzling phrase left me in a squeak. "If this is your friendship, then I don't need it anymore, Eva. I know i-it hurts you, but at least you'll still have Izzy to play with and keep you entertained. This isn't fair to me and I'm not okay with this. Y-you can't change what I am and I don't want to live an act for the rest of my life. A-and you know how I feel about bring pinned to the wall. So. Um. If you could please-?"

"No, but you don't get it," she begged. "I'll meet you halfway. I won't make you kiss me and we don't need to have sex, really, Noah. I just want you. I want you to stay. Nothing will be different, except I'll know you won't leave me."

My gaze slid to her fingers, pressing me in the corner the way I'd always wondered if they would. Like mother, like son. One moment you're leaning your heads together as you drift into sleep on the couch with chocolate cake on a plate in your lap, and the next you're locked in the bedroom with no windows and thick walls, left to spin straw into gold. Then my eyes flicked back to hers. "It sure feels like it's different."

Her lip quivered. "But it's gonna be more different if you say 'No'."

"Yes, I realize that." I puffed out my cheeks and leaned my head backwards again. Every inch of my body stung. I didn't want that. "Can… can I have some time to think about it? At least until the season is over and we all get ready to go home?"

Reluctantly, Eva removed her hands and allowed me to fall back on the heels of my feet. "Yeah, I guess. But when the sun sets on the day of the finale, you'd better have an answer."

"I will," I said, already knowing what it would be.

She scratched behind her neck. "Good. Thanks. Um. Yeesh. Wow. Sorry. So. Uh. You… wanna go swimming or something?"

"There isn't really a point, is there?" I held up my bandaged arms.

"I take that to mean you want to sneak the mint and cookie dough ice cream cartons from Kevin's freezer, and that you want a piggyback ride over there and down the beach so I can dunk your head where no one's gonna stop me."

I sighed and, again, stretched out my hands to her. "You know me too well. And I do want to try that Scottish fudge of yours."

Eva chuckled and crouched a little so I could situate myself between her sharp shoulder blades. Slowly, I locked my sore arms around her neck like I had a dozen times before. Eva placed her hands on my elbows and squeezed. "You steady up there, Fruitcake?"

"I usually am, Iron Woman."

We started off at a quick jog down the hall like two best friends. Setting my chin against the topmost curve of her head, gazing at each crooked picture frame hanging from the wall, I hugged her neck and allowed myself to breathe in the familiar warm and sweaty scent of her jet-black hair.

Why would we ever want anything different?