The campers looked at each other, paralyzed by fear. Then, Ezekiel stepped forward, his jaw set in a line of farm-boy determination. He felt Gwen's hand slip out of his as he walked toward the wheel.
"I'll go first, eh," Zeke said, his voice steady. "I've survived a farm, a bunch of crazy challenges, and a heart-to-heart with a guy who forgot his girl in the dirt. A wooden wheel ain't gonna scare me."
Gwen watched him with a mix of pride and anxiety. "Be careful, Zeke!"
Ezekiel grabbed the edge of the wheel and gave it a powerful shove. The wood groaned as it spun faster and faster, a blur of misery passing under the rusted arrow. Finally, with a series of heavy clicks, it slowed down and stopped on an icon of a small, fluffy animal with a white stripe down its back.
"Ooh, a classic!" Chris chirped. "The Skunk Hug!"
Chef Hatchet reached behind a curtain and pulled out a very agitated, very full skunk.
"Rules are simple, homeschool," Chris grinned, holding a stopwatch. "You have to hold 'Stinky' here in a full embrace for ten seconds. If you let go or pass out before the time is up, you fail. Ready? And... GO!"
The campers winced and covered their noses in anticipation. Heather and Lindsay backed away several feet.
Ezekiel didn't hesitate. He took the skunk from Chef as if it were a harmless kitten. The animal immediately stiffened and let out a warning hiss.
"Easy there, little fella," Zeke whispered. "I've dealt with your cousins back in the barn since I was five."
At the five-second mark, the skunk let it rip. A thick, yellow cloud of foul-smelling musk sprayed directly into Ezekiel's face. The smell was so potent that Owen actually gagged and fell over, and Leshawna had to cover her mouth with her shirt.
But Ezekiel didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. He kept his arms wrapped around the animal, his eyes watering from the chemicals, but his grip remained firm.
"Seven... eight... nine... TEN!" Chris shouted.
Ezekiel handed the skunk back to a stunned Chef Hatchet. Zeke's clothes were ruined, and he smelled like a chemical plant explosion, but he stood tall.
"Eh, not bad," Zeke choked out, wiping his eyes. "But you should try cleaning a pigpen in mid-July. That's real stink."
"Unbelievable!" Chris marveled. "You passed the first test with flying colors—and a lot of spray. Now, you've got the power. You choose the next victim. But don't forget the Sudden Death rule: if your chosen target survives their ten seconds of torture, you are out of the running for that Luxury Trailer!"
Ezekiel scanned the group. He looked at Gwen, who was biting her lip in worry, then at Courtney, who was busy reciting safety regulations to herself. He was about to pick someone he thought might fold easily, like Heather or perhaps even a hesitant Duncan, when a blur of orange hair and green clothing suddenly obstructed his view.
Izzy was practically vibrating in front of him. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, her eyes wide and glowing with a chaotic, unhinged energy.
"Me! Me! Pick me, Zeke!" Izzy shrieked, her voice reaching a pitch that made DJ cover his ears. "I haven't felt a good mechanical vibration in weeks! Pick me! I want to see if the wheel can handle my aura! Last time I spun something this big, the power grid in three counties went dark and I had to hide in a hollowed-out moose for a month! Please, please, please!"
The other campers watched in stunned silence.
Gwen: (Whispering urgently) "Zeke, don't do it! Izzy is literally insane. She'll eat glass if it looks crunchy enough. If you pick her, you're basically handing over your chance at that trailer!"
Owen: (Looking nervous) "Uh, Izzy, honey... maybe take it down a notch? The wheel has some really scary stuff on it. Like, 'the beehive' scary. Or 'no-snack' scary!"
Izzy: (Laughing maniacally) "Oh, Owen, don't be such a marshmallow! I once spent a weekend in a dryer just to see what the 'perm-press' setting felt like! This is going to be amazing!"
Ezekiel scratched his head, looking from a desperate Gwen to a hyperventilating Izzy. He knew Gwen was right—picking Izzy was a huge risk—but he also knew he didn't want to put Gwen or his friends through something painful. And Izzy... well, Izzy was clearly asking for it.
"Eh, well..." Zeke said, shrugging his shoulders. "If you're that eager to get tortured, Izzy... I guess I'll pick you. Go ahead, eh."
Chris nearly fell off his director's chair laughing. "Unbelievable! The homeschooler is gambling his luxury on the biggest wildcard in reality TV history! Izzy, get up there and give it a whirl!"
Izzy didn't just spin the wheel; she attacked it. She grabbed the spokes and threw her entire body weight into a massive heave. The wheel let out a high-pitched wooden scream as it blurred into a kaleidoscope of misery. It spun for nearly a minute before finally clicking into place. The arrow landed on an icon showing a pair of bare feet dancing on glowing, red-hot coals.
"Ooooh, a fan favorite!" Chris announced, his eyes gleaming. "The Bed of Coals! Izzy, you have to stand barefoot on a tray of burning embers for ten seconds. If you step off or scream in agony, Zeke stays in. if you finish the count... Zeke is officially out of the challenge!"
Chef Hatchet hauled out a long metal tray filled with glowing red charcoal. The heat was so intense it created a visible shimmer in the air.
"Ready to get crispy, Psycho-hose-beast?" Chris asked, stopwatch ready.
Izzy didn't even answer. She kicked off her boots with such force that one almost hit Heather, let out a blood-curdling war cry
—"KALALALALALALALA!"—and leapt directly onto the burning embers.
Leshawna: "Oh, girl, no! That's just wrong!"
Bridgette: (Turning away) "I can't watch! I can actually smell her socks burning!"
"One... two... three..." Chris counted, his voice full of disbelief.
Izzy wasn't just standing there. She was doing a frantic, rhythmic tap-dance on the coals, her eyes rolled back in her head as she giggled. "It's like a foot massage from a dragon! It tickles! It tickles so much!"
"Seven... eight... nine... TEN!" Chris bellowed.
Izzy hopped off the coals, her feet smoking slightly, but she was grinning ear-to-ear. "Can I go again? I think my left pinky toe didn't get enough medium-rare treatment!"
Chris sighed, looking over at Ezekiel. "Sorry, Zeke. You picked a girl who thinks fire is a spa treatment. You are officially out of the running for the Luxury Trailer! Go join the peanut gallery and try to reflect on your poor life choices."
Ezekiel gave Gwen a sheepish look and shrugged. "Eh, sorry Gwen. I couldn't say no to her. At least she's happy."
Gwen shook her head, but she couldn't help but smile at him. "You're too nice for your own good, Zeke."
"Now, Izzy!" Chris shouted. "Since you survived the fire-dance, you get to choose the next victim! Who are you putting on the wheel?"
Izzy's eyes darted around the clearing, settling on each camper with a terrifying intensity, before her finger finally snapped out and pointed...
Izzy turned toward the group with a manic grin, her eyes darting wildly from face to face. Finally, they locked onto a lanky, red-headed figure who was currently performing a series of slow-motion karate chops in the air.
"Harold!" Izzy pointed so hard she nearly dislocated her shoulder. "I choose you! I've seen those 'ninja moves' around camp, and I want to see if your secret martial arts can protect you from the Wheel's ancient evil! This is a true test of endurance for your inner chi!"
Harold adjusted his glasses, stepping forward with a confident, yet slightly shaky, stride.
Harold: (Attempting a deep, mystical voice) "A wise choice, Izzy. My body is a temple, and my reflexes are sharper than a samurai's blade. Whatever the machine throws at me, my 'Mad Skillz' will see me through."
Leshawna: (Looking worried) "Harold, baby, be careful! That wheel don't play, and I know Chris didn't pay for the extended medical insurance!"
Harold stood before the wheel and performed a flamboyant kung-fu pose before giving the structure a sharp spin. The rhythmic clicking of the wood filled the clearing, slowing down until the arrow landed on an icon depicting a massive, open-mouthed alligator.
Chris: (Laughing wickedly) "Whoa, Harold! I hope your ninja training included reptilian dentistry! Your task: The Gator-Grip! You have to place your head inside the jaws of a hungry alligator for exactly ten seconds! Chef, bring out our toothy friend!"
Chef Hatchet hauled out a massive swamp alligator in a heavy iron cage. The beast's golden eyes blinked hungrily as it let out a low, guttural hiss.
Gwen: (Whispering to Zeke) "This is insane! Someone could actually die doing this!"
Ezekiel: (Concerned) "Eh, let's hope Harold knows what he's doing with all that ninja-stuff..."
Harold swallowed a massive lump in his throat, but he didn't back down. He stepped up to the reptile, which had its jaws propped wide open in a terrifying display of teeth.
Harold: (Softly to himself) "Remember the teachings... be like water... and don't touch the gums..."
Harold leaned in slowly, his head disappearing into the cavernous, prehistoric maw.
Chris: (Starting the stopwatch) "One... two... three..."
A deathly silence fell over the clearing. Everyone watched with bated breath as the alligator's tail twitched rhythmically. Leshawna chewed her fingernails, and Izzy hopped up and down, watching to see if Harold's head would "crunch" (which, thankfully, it didn't).
Chris: "Eight... nine... TEN!"
Harold yanked his head out with lightning speed, performing a desperate back-flip away from the cage. Beads of sweat rolled down his face, but his glasses remained perfectly in place.
Harold: (Panting) "The triumph... of inner peace... and rapid muscle twitch reflexes! I did it!"
Chris: (Sounding a bit disappointed) "Well, Izzy, looks like the ninja moves paid off. That means Izzy, you are also officially out of the running for the Luxury Trailer! Harold stood his ground, which means you're headed for the loser bench!"
Izzy didn't seem disappointed at all; in fact, she started chasing a butterfly toward the "Loser Zone" where Ezekiel was waiting.
"And now, Harold!" Chris shouted. "Since your head is still attached to your neck, the power is yours! Who is your next victim on the Wheel?"
Harold straightened his shirt, his gaze sweeping across the remaining contestants and it didn't take long for him to find his target.
"Duncan." Harold said, his voice unusually firm.
Duncan didn't look surprised. He didn't even flinch. He knew exactly why Harold had picked him. Behind the cameras and between the challenges, Duncan had spent weeks tormenting Harold—stealing his underwear, making him the butt of every joke, and pushing him to his limits. Deep down, the guilt had been gnawing at Duncan, but his pride was a cage he hadn't figured out how to unlock yet.
"Fair enough, dweeb," Duncan muttered, stepping up to the wheel. "I guess I had it coming."
Duncan gave the wheel a half-hearted spin. It rattled and clacked before landing on a chilling icon: The Electric Eel Bath.
"Oh, man! This is gonna be shocking!" Chris cackled. "The Electric Eel Bath! Duncan, you have to sit in a tub of water with three highly agitated electric eels for ten seconds. No jumping out, no screaming, and definitely no quitting!"
Chef filled a tub and dumped three writhing, glowing eels into it. Duncan took a deep breath, stripped to his shorts, and climbed in. The moment he hit the water, the eels struck.
ZZZZZT! Duncan's body jolted. His hair stood on end, and his teeth were clenched so hard his jaw muscles bulged.
"One... two..." Chris counted with a smirk.
Duncan was shaking violently. The pain was clearly immense, but he held on.
"Five... six... seven..."
At the eight-second mark, Duncan's eyes rolled back. His body couldn't take the voltage anymore. At nine seconds, he began to slump over the edge of the tub, his muscles giving out. He was failing the challenge.
But before his head hit the ground, he looked directly at Harold. His voice was a raspy, painful whisper, yet it was clear enough for everyone to hear.
"Harold... I'm... sorry. For everything, man."
The clearing went dead silent. Leshawna's jaw dropped. Gwen and Ezekiel exchanged a look of pure shock. Even Heather looked stunned. Duncan, the resident bad boy, had finally broken.
Duncan offered a weak, tired smile toward a bewildered Harold before his eyes closed and he fainted from the exhaustion and the shocks.
"Whoa," Chris said, actually looking taken out of his element for a second. "Well... Duncan failed at nine seconds. That means Harold, you stay in the challenge! And since Duncan is currently unconscious and smelling like burnt toast, I'll be making the next choice."
Harold stood frozen, staring at Duncan as Chef carried the punk toward the infirmary tent. "He... he actually said it. I accept, Duncan. I accept."
Chris clapped his hands, regaining his composure. "Okay, enough with the emotional growth! It's making me nauseous. Since I'm in charge, let's keep the drama rolling. Gwen! You're up next! Let's see if you can outlast your boyfriend's bad luck!"
Gwen stepped forward, looking determined but worried, as Ezekiel gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.
Gwen stepped up to the wheel, her face set in a mask of grim determination. She ignored Chris's taunting grin and gave the wheel a sharp, purposeful shove. The wood clattered, the icons of pain blurring before her eyes.
"Come on, Gwen, you got this, eh!" Ezekiel called out from the sidelines.
The wheel clicked to a halt on an icon of a Giant Jar of Leeches.
"Oh, look at that!" Chris chirped. "The Leech Bathtub! Gwen, you have to submerge your legs in a tub filled with hungry North American leeches for ten seconds. If you flinch, scream, or pull them off early, you're out!"
Chef hauled out a glass tank teeming with hundreds of slimy, black wrigglers.
Gwen didn't hesitate. She sat on the edge and plunged her legs in. She felt the cold, slimy latching of a dozen leeches immediately, but she didn't move. She stared straight ahead, her eyes like flint.
"Five... six... seven..." Chris counted down.
Gwen didn't even blink. "Eight... nine... TEN!"
She stood up, calmly brushing the blood-suckers off her skin with a flat hand. Since she had completed the task, she held the power—and she didn't need a second to think about her target.
"Heather." Gwen's voice was like ice.
Heather scoffed, crossing her arms. "Original. I suppose you're still mad because I'm better looking than you? Get over it."
"Actually," Gwen said, stepping closer until she was inches from Heather's face, "I'm thinking about the rock-climbing challenge. You know, when you 'accidentally' stepped on my skirt and ripped it? The whole world saw my underwear on national TV because of you, Heather. Those purple ones with the skull print? Yeah. That was the moment I decided I was going to be the one to take you down. This is for the skirt."
Heather turned a pale shade of green as the group let out a collective "Ooh!" of realization.
"Spin the wheel, Queen Bee," Chris chuckled. "Let's see if your luck is as thin as Gwen's old skirt!"
Heather marched to the wheel, her face contorted with rage. She gave it a violent spin. The wheel groaned under the force of her anger, clicking rapidly before settling on a strange icon: A Giant, Oversized Toaster.
"Aww, yeah!" Chris shouted. "The Human Toast! Heather, you have to stand inside a giant, heated metal box—basically a walk-in toaster—for ten seconds. It's going to get very, very hot, and if you sweat off that expensive foundation or run for the exit... Gwen stays, and you lose!"
Chef opened the heavy metal door of the makeshift toaster. A wave of heat hit the clearing.
"Ready to get crispy?" Chris asked.
Heather glared at Gwen one last time, then stepped inside the box. "I've had hotter saunas in Switzerland!" she yelled as Chef slammed the door shut.
"One... two... three..."
The metal of the box began to glow a dull orange. The campers could hear Heather grunting inside, the heat clearly reaching intense levels.
"Eight... nine..."
Suddenly, the door flew open. Heather tumbled out, gasping for air, her hair frizzing from the humidity and her makeup literally melting down her neck. She had made it to nine and a half seconds before the heat became unbearable.
"Half a second short!" Chris yelled, holding up the stopwatch. "Heather fails! That means Gwen, you stay in the challenge, and Heather, you are out of the running for the Luxury Trailer!"
Gwen leaned back against Ezekiel, a satisfied smirk on her face.
"Okay, okay!" Chris clapped his hands. "Gwen is safe! Since I want to see some fresh meat, I'm picking the next player. Courtney! You've been back for five minutes and you're already complaining. Get up here and spin!"
Courtney stepped toward the wheel with measured, calculated steps. She didn't rush. She waited for the wind to settle, then gave the massive structure a precise, forceful spin. The wheel turned slower than the others, every rhythmic click ratcheting up the tension in the clearing. Finally, the arrow landed on an icon that made even Chef Hatchet swallow hard: a black skull with lightning bolts shooting out of it.
"Oh, boy!" Chris shouted, his eyes lighting up. "That's the hardest task on the wheel! The High-Voltage Gauntlet!"
The campers watched in stunned silence as Chef and the interns pushed a narrow metal corridor into the center of the clearing. It was a forest of swinging, sparking live wires dangling over a floor of shallow water.
"Rules are simple, Courtney," Chris said. "You have ten seconds to get through that hallway without touching a single wire. If you hit one, you get a shock that'll straighten your hair for a month. If you stop or turn back, you're out!"
Duncan watched from the infirmary bench, his face turning serious. "Courtney, don't do it! That's too dangerous!" he called out, but Courtney only gave him a sharp, determined look.
"I never back down from a challenge again, Duncan!" Courtney snapped.
She stood at the entrance. The second Chris hit the stopwatch, Courtney dove into the task with a ferocity no one had seen from her before. She moved with fluid, almost dance-like precision, twisting her body to avoid the crackling cables. One wire swung millimeters from her face, but she didn't even flinch. Mud and water splashed her clothes, but her eyes were locked on the exit.
"Seven... eight... nine..." the group counted.
At the very last second, Courtney performed a desperate slide, skidding out of the exit just as the wires swung together in a massive electrical arc behind her. She lay on the ground, panting and covered in grime, her clothes torn in several places, but her gaze was triumphant.
A cheer erupted in the clearing. Even those who didn't like her couldn't deny the sheer guts it took.
* Gwen: (To Ezekiel) "Okay, I have to hand it to her. That was hardcore."
* Owen: "Whoa! Courtney, that was awesome! I thought you were toast for sure!"
* Bridgette: "Are you okay? That was incredible!"
Courtney slowly stood up and brushed herself off. Though her hands were still shaking from the adrenaline, she looked more confident than ever. She had earned their respect, and now she held the power.
"Thank you," she said shortly, her eyes scanning the remaining contestants. They stopped on a girl who was currently preoccupied with checking her split ends. "Since I took on the hardest challenge, I'm picking someone who needs to start taking this game seriously. Lindsay, you're up!"
Lindsay jumped, her hands flying to her cheeks. "Me?! But I just found my favorite lip gloss in my pocket! Chris, this is so unfair!"
"No excuses, Lindsay!" Chris laughed. "Courtney made her choice. Get up here and spin! Let's see if there's anything behind that pretty face besides hairspray!"
Lindsay approached the wheel with the grace of a confused gazelle. She looked at the muddy, sparking gauntlet Courtney had just survived and shivered.
"I don't like electricity, Chris," Lindsay whimpered. "It makes my hair all frizzy, and not in a cute '80s way!"
"Spin the wheel, Lindsay!" Chris commanded.
Lindsay gave the wheel a dainty shove. It spun with a light click-click-click before settling on an icon of a Large Wooden Barrel filled with Crushed Ice and Dead Fish.
"Oh, a sensory delight!" Chris exclaimed. "The Arctic Fish-Gut Dip! Lindsay, you have to submerge your head in that barrel of ice-cold water and rotting fish guts for ten seconds. No breathing, no coming up for air, and no screaming!"
Lindsay looked at the barrel, which was already attracting a cloud of flies. Courtney watched with a smug expression, certain that Lindsay would never ruin her complexion for a challenge.
"Do it, Lindsay!" Heather hissed from the sidelines, leaning in close. "If you win, you get to kick the 'CIT' out of the trailer!"
Lindsay took a deep breath, plugged her nose, and dunked her head into the foul-smelling slurry.
Owen: "Oh, man, the smell is reaching all the way over here! It's like a tuna sandwich left in a hot car!"
Ezekiel: "She's holding steady, eh. Look at her go!"
"Seven... eight... nine... TEN!" Chris shouted.
Lindsay pulled her head out, a dead fish tail stuck in her blonde hair and fish guts dripping down her face. She looked disgusting, but she had a giant smile on her face.
"I did it! And I think I found a new way to exfoliate!"
"Incredible!" Chris yelled. "Lindsay completes the task! That means Courtney, despite your 'high-voltage' heroics, you are officially out of the challenge!"
Courtney's jaw dropped. "What?! But mine was way harder! This is a total miscarriage of justice! I demand a recount!"
"Go sit on the bench, Courtney!" Chris laughed.
Lindsay wiped her eyes, looking a bit lost. Suddenly, Heather leaned in and whispered something quickly into Lindsay's ear, her eyes darting toward the group. Lindsay nodded, her expression turning uncharacteristically serious.
"Okay! I choose... Trent!" Lindsay announced, pointing at the musician.
Trent blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected to be called so soon, especially not by Lindsay. He looked over at Gwen, who gave him a supportive, yet cautious, nod.
"My turn, I guess," Trent said, stepping up to the wheel. He looked at the icons, his mind racing. He was still trying to prove he was a "stand-up guy" after his earlier apology.
"Alright, Trent," Chris grinned. "Let's see if you've got the rhythm to handle this!"
Trent stepped up to the wheel, the weight of the entire camp's gaze on his shoulders. He glanced at Gwen, who offered a small, encouraging wave, then at Ezekiel, who gave him a respectful "good luck" nod. Trent knew he had to prove he wasn't just the guy who got scared by mimes; he had to show he was a competitor.
He gripped the wheel and gave it a powerful, rhythmic spin. The wood groaned, and the arrow flickered across the icons of pain until it landed on a symbol that made Chris McLean's eyes turn into dollar signs: a blindfold over a pit of jagged obsidian glass.
"Oh, man! This is the legendary 'Blind Leap of Faith'!" Chris shouted, his voice booming with excitement. "Trent, you have to be blindfolded and walk across a narrow, grease-covered balance beam over a pit of (mostly) dull glass shards. If you fall, you're done. You have ten seconds to reach the other side!"
"That's impossible!" Leshawna yelled. "The boy's a musician, not a tightrope walker!"
Trent took a deep breath. "I can do this."
Chef tied the blindfold tightly. Trent stepped onto the beam. The grease made his sneakers slide instantly. He wobbled, his arms out like a bird's wings.
"One... two... three..." Chris began the count.
Trent moved with surprising grace, feeling the beam with his toes. He was halfway across. Four... five... six...
He was nearly there. He could feel the edge of the platform. He took one final, confident step.
"Nine... nine point nine..."
His heel caught a thick glob of grease. His foot slipped just 0.0001 seconds before his toes could touch the safety mat. Trent plummeted into the pit with a loud thud.
"NO!" Gwen gasped, rushing to the edge.
"Oooooh! So close!" Chris cackled, checking his ultra-precise digital timer. "Trent, you were literally a fraction of a millisecond away from victory! But a miss is a miss. Trent, you are out of the challenge!"
Trent climbed out of the pit, picking a few harmless shards off his jeans. He looked gutted, but he caught Gwen's eye and gave her a weak, apologetic smile.
"Lindsay!" Chris turned to the blonde girl, who was still picking fish guts out of her hair. "Since Trent failed, you're safe! You're still in the running for the Luxury Trailer!"
"Yay! I'm like, a total survivor!" Lindsay cheered, hugging herself.
"Alright, enough celebration!" Chris clapped his hands, his eyes scanning the remaining group.
He wanted more drama, more energy. His finger landed on the most formidable woman on the island. "Leshawna! You've been awfully quiet back there. Get your hustle up here and show that wheel who's boss!"
Leshawna stepped forward, adjusting her hoop earrings and popping her neck. "About time, Chris. I was starting to think you were scared I'd break your little toy!"
Leshawna marched up to the wheel with enough confidence to power the entire island. She didn't hesitate for a second, giving the wheel a shove so hard it nearly spun off its axle.
The arrow whirled around and landed on The Spicy Habanero Gulp.
"Piece of cake!" Leshawna laughed as Chef handed her a jar of blistering red peppers.
Without breaking eye contact with Chris, she emptied the jar into her mouth. Most people would have turned into a human flamethrower, but Leshawna just chewed, swallowed, and let out a small puff of breath.
"One... two... ten!" Chris finished the count, looking slightly disappointed she didn't explode. "Alright, Leshawna, you make it look too easy. Who's your target?"
Leshawna looked at the remaining group. Her eyes softened as they landed on her friends. She looked at DJ, then at Owen, and finally at the blonde surfer.
"Bridgette, honey," Leshawna said, her voice filled with genuine apology. "You know I love you, girl, but the options are getting thin. I'm so sorry, but it's your turn."
Bridgette offered a warm, understanding smile. She didn't look upset at all. She walked toward the platform, giving Leshawna a friendly pat on the arm as they swapped places.
"It's okay, Leshawna," Bridgette said calmly. "It's a game. I'm just surprised I lasted this long without having to spin!"
Ezekiel watched from the sidelines, leaning toward Gwen. "Eh, Bridgette's tough. She survived those whales in the surfing challenge, she can handle a wooden wheel."
Bridgette reached out and gave the wheel a steady, firm spin. The group leaned in, curious to see what the island had in store for the most level-headed girl in the camp. The wheel slowed down, clicking past the 'Alligator' and the 'Leeches' before stopping on an icon of a Giant, Cranky Skunk.
"Oh, the irony!" Chris barked with laughter. "The Skunk Cuddle! Bridgette, you have to hold a very grumpy skunk like a baby for ten seconds. And if he decides to spray... well, you can go sit next to Ezekiel in the 'Stink Zone'!"
Bridgette turned a little pale, but as an animal lover, she took a deep breath. Chef handed her the black-and-white critter, which was already hissing and stamping its tiny feet.
Bridgette tried her best to soothe the agitated skunk, but the animal was having none of it. At the seven-second mark, the skunk's tail arched high. Knowing exactly what was coming, Bridgette gently set the animal down and scrambled away just as a cloud of yellow mist filled the air.
"And Bridgette is out!" Chris announced, plugging his nose. "Leshawna, you're safe! You're moving on to the next round!"
Bridgette walked away, looking dejected and smelling faintly of sulfur.
DJ stepped forward, his large hand landing gently on her back as he gave her a comforting pat. "Don't worry, Bridge. You handled that little guy better than most people would've," he said softly.
Bridgette looked up at him, her cheeks turning a bright shade of pink as she sat down with the other eliminated contestants, feeling much better.
"Moving on!" Chris shouted, pointing at the biggest guy on the island. "Owen! Get your butt up here!"
Owen bounded up to the wheel, sweating but smiling. He gave the wheel a massive shove. It landed on The Onion Feast—eating five raw onions in ten seconds. For Owen, this wasn't a challenge; it was a snack. He inhaled them so fast that Chris didn't even get to count to five.
"I'm still in! Woo-hoo!" Owen cheered, his breath smelling like a dumpster fire. But then his face fell as he realized who was left. He looked at DJ, his best bud. "Oh, man... DJ, I'm so sorry, buddy. You're the only one left."
DJ gave a brave, shaky nod. "I know, Owen. It's cool. Let's do this."
DJ approached the wheel, his knees knocking together. He gave it a nervous tug. The wheel spun and spun, eventually landing on an icon that made the entire clearing go dead silent: The Triple-Tier Beast Gauntlet.
"Oh, wow," Chris whispered, actually impressed. "This is even harder than Courtney's electrical run! DJ, you have to cross a pit of snapping turtles, run through a gauntlet of swinging spiked logs, and finish by jumping over a pool of electric eels. All in ten seconds!"
"He's gonna die!" Lindsay shrieked.
But as DJ looked at the obstacle course, something clicked. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe he just wanted to prove he wasn't a "chicken" anymore. He let out a roar, charged forward, and moved with the grace of a pro athlete. He leaped over the turtles, ducked under the logs with millimeter precision, and cleared the eel pool with a massive, soaring jump.
"TEN!" the group screamed in unison.
"He did it!" Ezekiel yelled, jumping up. "A miracle, eh!"
"Unbelievable!" Chris shouted. "DJ survives the impossible! Owen, you are out of the challenge!"
Owen didn't even mind. He gave DJ a massive bear hug, nearly crushing his ribs. "You were like a ninja, man! A big, muscular ninja!"
Chris stood up and straightened his vest. "Well, that concludes the first round of the Wheel of Misfortune! Only five of you remain to battle it out for the Luxury Trailer: Harold, Gwen, Lindsay, Leshawna, and DJ! Take five, guys. The next round is going to be twice as mean!"