The sun rose over Camp Wawanakwa with a deceptive stillness, its golden rays dancing across the surface of the lake. For the first time in weeks, there was no air horn screaming in the distance, no Chris McLean laughing through a megaphone. It was a scheduled rest day—a rare gift from the production crew—but the silence in the cabins was far from peaceful.
In the Screaming Gophers' bunkhouse, the atmosphere had shifted fundamentally. The space where Trent's guitar usually leaned against the wall was empty. The morning air, once filled with his soft humming or attempts at songwriting, was now replaced by the rhythmic creaking of old mattresses and the distant call of a loon.
Ezekiel was the first to wake. He didn't need an alarm; his body was still attuned to the early hours of farm life, but his mind was centuries—or rather, years—ahead. He sat on the edge of his bed, looking at his hands. He had successfully altered the timeline again. Trent was gone. Justin was still here. Gwen was safe.
He stepped out onto the porch, breathing in the scent of pine and damp earth. A moment later, the door creaked open again. Justin stepped out, his hair surprisingly messy, his usual poise replaced by a contemplative silence. He didn't reach for his mirror. He didn't check his jawline in the reflection of the window. He just stood next to Ezekiel, staring at the horizon.
"It's quiet," Justin said, his voice low and raspy from sleep. "Too quiet. Without that guitar... it actually feels like a competition now."
"He was a good guy, eh? Just not built for this," Ezekiel replied softly.
Justin turned to him. The model's eyes, usually so focused on himself, were anchored on Zeke.
"I've been thinking about the vote, Zeke. Heather, Lindsay... they voted for him because he failed Gwen. But the others? They wanted me gone. They saw me as dead weight. If you hadn't stood up for me... if you hadn't talked me through that mirror room..." Justin paused, a rare moment of vulnerability crossing his face. "I'd be on that boat. No one ever looked past the face before, Zeke. Not really. You're the first."
Ezekiel smiled, a genuine, lopsided grin. He reached up and clapped Justin on the shoulder.
"On the farm, it doesn't matter how shiny the tractor looks if it can't plow the field, eh? I saw you had a motor in there, Justin. You just needed someone to crank the handle."
In that moment, their alliance was sealed—not by a handshake or a strategic contract, but by a bond of mutual respect. The "Homeschooler" and the "Pretty Boy" had become the most unexpected power duo on the island.
Part II: The Girls and the Chessboard
Inside the girls' side of the cabin, the peace was shorter-lived. Heather was already sitting at the vanity, aggressively brushing her hair. Her eyes were fixed on the mirror, but she wasn't looking at herself. She was watching Leshawna, who was sitting on her bunk, tightening the laces on her sneakers.
Lindsay stood behind Heather, holding a can of hairspray, looking tired but eager to please.
"You know, Leshawna," Heather began, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "The team is in a fragile state. Trent's departure has left a vacuum. Gwen is... unstable, to say the least. We need a core. A foundation."
Leshawna snorted, not even looking up. "And I suppose you think you're the cement, honey?"
"I'm the architect," Heather corrected her, turning around. "Think about it. You're the muscle and the heart. I'm the strategy. Lindsay is... well, Lindsay is a loyal soldier. If we three stick together, we control every vote. Cody and Owen are easily swayed, and Justin is too busy looking at his own reflection to care."
"You're forgetting someone," Leshawna said, finally meeting Heather's gaze. "Zeke. That boy isn't the same kid who walked off the bus. He's got Gwen in his pocket, and Justin follows him like a lost puppy."
Heather's eyes narrowed. She had noticed it too. Ezekiel had become an annoying variable she couldn't solve. "Zeke is a fluke. He's like an annoying little brother who got lucky. But he can be dealt with. So, what do you say? A truce? A temporary alliance to ensure we make it to the merge?"
Leshawna hesitated. Her heart was with Harold over in the Killer Bass camp—they had been an item since, a secret flame that kept her going. She didn't trust Heather as far as she could throw her, but she knew the Gophers were a shark tank.
"I'll think about it, Heather. But don't expect me to start liking your perfume," Leshawna grumbled, grabbing her water bottle and heading for the door.
Part III: The Killer Bass Dilemma
Across the campground, the Killer Bass were enjoying the sun, but their internal gears were also turning. Duncan and DJ were sitting on the edge of the wooden pier, their feet dangling over the water.
Duncan was using a pocketknife to carve a skull into the wood, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Geoff is gone. Sadie is gone. Courtney was out before she could even start a real fight. We're bleeding people, DJ."
DJ bólintott, looking concerned. "We still have the numbers, Duncan. But the Gophers are getting tighter. Did you see them yesterday? They actually started liking each other."
"That's why we need to pull the trigger on someone else," Duncan said, glancing back toward the cabins. "Tyler. He's a klutz, and he's obsessed with that Lindsay girl, but he's loyal. If we pull him into our fold, we have a solid block. Harold is a wild card, and the girls are... well, the girls are a mess right now."
DJ followed Duncan's gaze to the beach, where Bridgette was performing a complex yoga pose. The sun caught her hair, and for a moment, DJ forgot to breathe. Since the Phobia Factor, after he had helped her through the woods, things felt... different.
Bridgette, sensing a pair of eyes on her, wobbled in her handstand. She caught sight of DJ and instantly turned a bright shade of pink. She crashed onto the sand, laughing nervously and brushing the grains off her legs. She couldn't even look him in the eye anymore without her heart doing a frantic tap-dance. She was falling, and she was falling hard for the big guy with the soft heart.
Part IV: The Great Silence: Katie and Eva
However, the most awkward tension on the beach wasn't between DJ and Bridgette. It was centered around a large boulder where Eva was currently using a log as a makeshift barbell.
Katie sat a few feet away on a piece of driftwood. She was alone—Sadie's departure had left a void in her life, a void she had tried to fill with a confession that had rocked the camp. Since she had told Eva she loved her during the Phobia Factor challenge, the silence between them had been deafening.
Eva grunted, her muscles bulging as she pressed the log overhead. She knew Katie was there. She could feel the girl's hopeful gaze burning into her back.
Katie didn't say anything. She knew Eva needed space, but every time Eva looked in her direction to grab her water bottle, Katie gave her a small, shy, and incredibly hopeful smile. She was waiting. Waiting for a sign, a rejection, a nod—anything.
Eva's face was a mask of stoic confusion. She wasn't angry anymore, which was progress for her. She was just... processing. She looked at Katie, then quickly looked away, her grip on the log tightening. The ferocity was still there, but the edges were softer.
Part V: Gwen's Path
As the morning moved into the afternoon, the Gophers moved toward the lake for a swim. Gwen lingered behind, walking slowly through the trees. She felt a presence beside her and didn't need to look to know who it was.
"Zeke," she said softly.
"Hey, Gwen. Just making sure you didn't get lost in your own head, eh?" Ezekiel said, keeping a respectful distance.
Gwen stopped and turned to him. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, catching the dark circles under her eyes. "Thank you. For not... you know. For not being like everyone else. Trent is gone, and everyone expects me to be a mess or to immediately jump onto the next thing."
"I told you yesterday, Gwen," Ezekiel said, his voice deep and sincere. "I'm not Trent. I'm not Cody. I'm just Zeke. I like you—everyone knows that—but I'm not gonna force you to choose anything. You've been through a lot. Take your time. I'm here as a friend first. Anything else... that's up to you."
Gwen looked at him, truly looked at him. She saw the maturity that shouldn't belong to a sixteen-year-old boy. She saw the steady hand and the honest heart. Trent had been a fantasy, a crush on a guy with a guitar. But Zeke... Zeke was real. He had stayed in the dirt with her.
"I think I've already started making a choice," Gwen whispered, a small, genuine smile appearing on her face. She reached out and squeezed his hand briefly before walking toward the water.
Cody watched them from behind a bush, a bittersweet feeling in his chest. He liked Gwen, he really did, but he wasn't blind. He saw the spark between her and Zeke—a spark that was much brighter than anything she'd had with Trent. He sighed, adjusted his shirt, and decided that if he couldn't have the girl, he'd at least be a good enough friend not to get in the way.
From the shadows of the porch, Heather watched the whole interaction. She tapped her chin thoughtfully. Ezekiel was becoming a problem. He was gathering allies, winning over the "loners," and even making the "Pretty Boy" loyal.
"Careful, homeschool," Heather muttered to herself, her eyes glinting with a dangerous ambition. "The higher you climb, the harder I'm going to make you fall."
But for today, it was a rest day. There were no challenges, no votes, and no Chris McLean. Just sixteen teenagers on an island, trying to navigate the messy, complicated world of feelings and friendship.
As the sun began to set, casting long purple shadows over the camp, the bonds formed today felt stronger than any immunity idol.
Ezekiel and Justin shared a laugh by the fire; DJ and Bridgette sat just a little bit closer than before; and even Eva didn't complain when Katie sat on the log next to her.
The peace wouldn't last, but for now, it was enough.