Chapter 41 – Rest Day 5 (Part 3)
While Owen finished explaining why the Gold Ranger's helmet looked like a legendary nugget, Cody let out a laugh that made him rest his head briefly on his forearm.
The joy was light, without exaggeration. Noah sipped from his mug with his classic "this conversation entertains me more than I'll admit" expression, and Owen was already preparing to compare summoning powers like restaurant menus.
But something shifted.
Cody turned his head slightly, as if sensing a change in the air—and then he saw her.
Bridgette was approaching.
She came alone, arms crossed over her stomach, wearing an expression that wasn't sad… but carried something heavier than she wanted to show. Her steps had rhythm, but no urgency. And her eyes were fixed on him.
Cody instinctively straightened up, placing his spoon on the edge of his plate. Owen and Noah noticed the shift and turned as well.
"Uh-oh," Owen murmured with a half-smile, lowering his voice. "Did they catch us conspiring against breakfast?"
Noah narrowed his eyes.
"No. That's the walk of someone carrying something real," Noah said.
Bridgette was already close.
But she wasn't the only one who noticed.
At a table farther back, Gwen paused mid-bite, her fork suspended as she watched Bridgette's path. She observed with no judgment, but with active curiosity.
A few seats away, Heather raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly, though her eyes stayed glued to her mug as if she wasn't watching (but of course she was).
Lindsay, who was about to laugh at one of Tyler's jokes, turned openly.
"Is Bridgette going to Cody?" Lindsay murmured, not maliciously, just surprised.
Bridgette reached the table, gave a brief smile to the three of them, and stopped beside Cody.
"Can I steal you for a second?" Bridgette asked, her voice calm but serious.
Noah, without missing a beat, rose from his seat with mock solemnity.
"I take my leave. My duty as Ranger commentator is complete," Noah said.
Owen played along, though more clumsily.
"I'm off for more oatmeal… or maybe a fifth serving of sincerity," Owen said.
Cody thanked them with a quick glance, shifting to make room for Bridgette to sit beside him.
The conversation around them continued, though with a subtle change in texture. A few more glances turned their way, almost reflexively.
But Cody didn't notice. His attention was entirely on Bridgette, who sat carefully and rested her elbows on the table, fingers interlaced.
Her expression was soft, but her eyes… her eyes were carrying something.
And just like that, without knowing it yet, Cody was about to hear a story that wasn't his—but could change someone else's day.
Bridgette took a breath before speaking, as if arranging her words carefully so the weight wouldn't fall too fast onto the conversation.
"It's about Katie…" Bridgette said softly.
Cody watched her attentively. He didn't interrupt. Just nodded with the steady rhythm of someone who truly listens.
"Ever since… well, since Sadie was eliminated, she hasn't stopped crying," Bridgette continued. "The night was long. Courtney and I tried everything we could think of to distract her. Music in her headphones. Tea. Silly stories. We even offered to reorganize her suitcase with lavender. Nothing helped."
Cody lowered his gaze for a moment and interlaced his fingers on the table.
"They cling to what keeps them together," Cody murmured. "They're like two halves of the same mirror. And someone shattered it in the middle."
Bridgette nodded with a sad grimace.
"Yeah. And the worst part is… Katie's not angry. She doesn't yell. She just… cries. Nonstop. She doesn't sleep well. Barely speaks. And even though we try to understand, there's a part of her no one can reach," Bridgette said.
A pause.
Cody furrowed his brow—not out of discomfort, but empathy. Like someone mentally redrawing the emotional map of a person he didn't know well, but who suddenly felt real.
"Has Katie always been this emotional about everything?" Cody asked gently.
Bridgette shook her head softly.
"She's sweet, dramatic sometimes. Very… intense when it comes to Sadie. They understand each other with just a look. They share everything. And now… she doesn't know what to do with all the space around her," Bridgette said.
In that moment, Cody understood.
It wasn't just Sadie's absence. It was the absence of structure in Katie's emotional routine. Her balance was gone. And that can be scarier than any elimination.
Bridgette looked at him with a hint of shyness as she shared the next part.
"I thought of you because… you're different. The way you handle things. You don't yell, you don't push. You have this way of… being there without pressure. Of making people feel like they can breathe slower," Bridgette said.
Cody raised an eyebrow, a bit surprised.
"You think so?" Cody said.
"I see it," she replied without hesitation. "Last night, Courtney and I talked about how we expected someone like Katie to act differently—more closed off, more irritable. But no…" she smiled briefly, "You, on the other hand, have that attitude and way of solving things."
Cody lowered his gaze for a second. Not to avoid—but to hold the thought carefully.
"I'm no expert in other people's tears," Cody said, "but I can listen. Sometimes that's more useful than talking."
Bridgette stood, grateful, and rose slowly.
"You don't have to promise anything. Just… if something comes to you. Sometimes a word from someone unexpected can change the rhythm of the day," Bridgette said.
"Give me a bit to think," Cody replied with a calm smile. "I don't want to approach her without knowing how."
"Of course," she said, and as she walked away, her fingers brushed the back of her chair. "Thanks for not saying no."
Cody watched her figure move between the tables. He felt the murmur of the mess hall returning to its usual rhythm and the scent of coffee finishing its slow fade from his cup. Then he glanced toward the entrance, where Katie would soon appear.
And in silence, he began to sketch out how to offer someone a little hope—without promising a solution.
Just… be there. The way he knew how.
After the conversation with Bridgette, Cody stayed at the table for a few more minutes, slowly turning his cup of cold coffee between his hands.
In the distance, Katie sat with her shoulders slightly hunched, stirring her spoon in a nearly empty bowl. She wasn't crying at that moment, but her gaze was distant, her expression frozen, as if the world were playing at a different speed than the rest.
How do you help someone who's lost half of herself without pretending to replace it?
The question repeated in Cody's mind. He didn't want to come off as condescending, or like some opportunist in a nice-guy costume. But he didn't feel right just watching from afar either.
He leaned forward, elbows on the table. In his head, he ran through scenarios: casual conversation, harmless joke, maybe a creative distraction, some humor… nothing felt like enough.
"You're going to split in two if you keep thinking like that," came Noah's calm, slightly teasing voice, reappearing with a cup of tea in hand.
"Or are you calculating your emotional rescue strategy?" added Owen, mouth full of cereal and a bright milk mustache decorating his upper lip.
Cody gave a lopsided smile, not fully turning.
"You heard?" Cody asked.
"We were born listening," Noah replied, taking a seat with his usual lazy intellectual air.
"And Bridgette has that soft but firm voice. Like an emotional yoga instructor. Plus… it showed. Your face went from 'I'm winning the Power Rangers debate' to 'I just got handed a max-level emotional side quest,'" Noah said.
Owen plopped into the seat across from him with an enthusiastic sigh.
"Katie's sad about Sadie, right?! I knew it! The girls were whispering stuff last night, and Courtney threw a pillow out the window. Whenever pillows fly, someone's hurting," Owen said.
Cody let out a brief laugh.
"Yeah. Bridgette asked if I could try something. Not an official mission… just an attempt," Cody said.
Noah took a sip of tea and looked at him with his usual half-smile.
"So the noble knight Cody is adding another to his—let's say it kindly—narrative harem. Don't you get tired of causing small heart crises?" Noah said.
Cody raised an eyebrow, amused.
"Harem? Wow. Do you write that in your notebooks or just fantasize about my problems?" Cody said, laughing.
"I write it mentally," Noah said with dry pride. "It's well structured."
"Hey, Noah's right," Owen chimed in while mixing cereal with syrup. "You've got something, Cody. Like… a mix between a video game protagonist and an accidental therapist."
Cody looked down at his coffee and murmured, more to himself than to them:
"Love is always the answer…" Cody said, trying to sound deep.
They both heard it, and for a second, Owen stopped chewing and Noah raised an eyebrow.
Cody looked up with a smile.
"That's from a fanfic I read years ago. Romance, drama, emotional trauma… but in the end, everything was solved with love."
"Let me guess," said Noah. "You were the protagonist."
"No, actually I heard it in an anime. A guy who was an expert in dating sims, and a Shinigami forced him to make girls fall in love to save their souls. In that world, love literally was the solution to everything. It made me laugh at first… but it stuck with me."
Owen nodded solemnly.
"Makes sense. Love fixes things. Sometimes. Like when you get an extra sausage at breakfast. You make peace with life," Owen said.
"But this time," Cody added, "I can't be that piece."
"Why not?" Owen asked.
"I'm… maxed out," Cody replied with a wide gesture. "Emotional logistics at capacity. I can't handle more connections with no resolution. But…"
Then he paused.
One second.
Two.
His eyes lit up with a spark—almost childlike. He slowly turned his face toward Noah.
"…but someone else might," Cody said.
"Excuse me?" Noah said, narrowing his eyes.
"Thin guy, with a certain air of intellectual sarcasm. Vest. Weird reading habits. Emotional subtlety hidden behind a wall of irony," Cody said.
As soon as he said it, Owen spat out his cereal milk so hard it nearly soaked a napkin.
"Oh no!" Owen exclaimed, wiping his face with his sleeve. "You're matchmaking Noah!"
Noah leaned back in his chair, stifling the laugh that escaped through his nose.
"Don't even dream of it," Noah said, though his lips were still curved with amusement.
Cody didn't push. He just wore that look of his—that glint of "I know more than I'm saying" in his eyes.
But between laughter, cereal, and glances, the idea was already floating among them. And for a moment, they all knew something curious might begin to take shape… even if Noah wasn't ready to admit it yet.
Owen was still wiping his face with a milk-stained napkin, shaken by the accidental cereal spray. Noah, meanwhile, had returned to his usual posture—arms crossed, half-smile in place, as if his only defense against the inevitable was pretending it didn't faze him.
Cody said nothing… yet.
He just watched them, elbow on the table, coffee spoon spinning in his hand like some kind of emotional compass. Then, without losing his calm, he leaned slightly toward Noah.
Very slowly. Very quietly.
And with a smile charming enough to raise alarms, he gently took Noah's arm.
"Noah," Cody said, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. "Just for a moment… imagine this."
Noah glanced sideways at him, unmoving.
"I'm going to hate every word that follows," Noah said.
"Bright energy, sweet gaze, voice like vanilla tea. Affectionate but not naive. Fragile now, yes… but with a light so strong that when the right person sees it, it'll explode," Cody said.
Noah tilted his head. Almost a smile.
Cody continued.
"And you…" he pointed softly at Noah's chest, still holding his arm, "intellectual structure, refined sarcasm, a mind like a scalpel. But you're… how to put it… spark-deficient."
"Excuse me," Noah muttered, "are you diagnosing me as emotionally discharged?"
"I'm suggesting it—with style," Cody said.
Owen, watching them with his head bouncing between them like he was watching a ping-pong match narrated by poets, opened his mouth in a mix of horror and fascination.
"You want to pair Noah with Katie?!" Owen said.
Cody turned slightly toward him.
"I don't want to force anything. Just… strike the match near the fuse and see if there's a chemical reaction," Cody said.
Noah blinked.
"I don't see the point. It'd be like connecting a positive wire to a sad poem," Noah said.
"That," Cody replied, pointing like he'd hit the bullseye, "is exactly the kind of line that proves you know everything—and yet people rarely tell you."
The silence was brief, but heavy. Then Cody lowered his voice further, now almost a conspiratorial whisper.
"Don't say you didn't notice her the other day. At the bonfire. You looked at her. I saw it. Not out of pity, not out of habit. You looked at her like someone recognizing something they don't fully understand… and finding it curious," Cody said.
Noah held his gaze.
"Maybe I looked. So what?" Noah said.
Cody didn't get angry. He just lowered his tone a fraction more.
"I'm just saying… sometimes what's needed most isn't instant love, but someone who sees beyond the tears. And you can do that, Noah. Because you don't say it. You just… observe," Cody said.
Owen was now completely silent, which was rare in itself.
Noah leaned back, crossed his arms, and let out a soft huff.
"This is a top-tier emotional trap," Noah said.
Cody nodded.
"And like any good strategist, you decide whether to fall into it or not," Cody said.
They stayed like that for a few seconds. Noah casually glanced—just for a moment—toward Katie. She was sitting in the far corner of the mess hall, talking to Bridgette. Her expression was still downcast, her shoulders a bit slumped, but there was a faint flicker of attention in her eyes as her friend said something probably meant to be comforting.
Noah turned his head back to Cody, expressionless.
"This never gets mentioned outside this table," Noah said.
"Not a word," Cody promised, sealing his lips like a school kid, fingers crossed behind his back where Noah couldn't see.
Owen raised his hands.
"I didn't even understand half of it. I already forgot everything," Owen said.
The three of them stayed a moment longer, each with different thoughts. But one thing was clear: what had started as a game about Power Rangers and cereal had just slipped into something deeper.
No pushing.
No sin.
Just planting possibilities.
And Cody… knew how to play that game better than anyone.
—
Camp Mess Hall
Lindsay sat in front of an empty tray, using the back of a spoon as an improvised mirror. She tugged a strand of hair and gave it one last curl with her fingers.
"Okay, Lindz… no drama. Just go, walk over, and tell him your shirts match today," Lindsay told herself mentally, psyching herself up. "Easy. Cody. Smile, blink, done…"
But when she turned her head toward her target, the rehearsed smile froze instantly.
Cody was standing up. Laughing. Already walking beside Noah, with Owen close behind. They headed toward the mess hall door at a brisk pace, like a secret plan was waiting that couldn't be delayed another second.
"He's leaving?" Lindsay murmured under her breath, barely audible to herself.
She lowered the spoon.
"It's fine. I'll catch him later. For sure…" Lindsay said.
But she didn't move.
A little farther away, Bridgette was stacking empty mugs on a tray, spinning them slowly, unhurried. Her gaze wasn't on the dishes. It followed Cody's figure discreetly.
"Maybe he just needed some air," Bridgette thought. "Maybe he didn't want to be surrounded right now…"
He was laughing with Noah. Said something to Owen. They were talking about something only they understood. Close. Light. Intense in their own code.
Bridgette didn't say anything. Didn't try to stop him.
She just thought: It's okay. Not every moment is meant for someone else's words.
She kept her hands on the edge of the tray, watching the open door where Cody's footsteps had already disappeared.
"Another day," Bridgette said silently. "Or maybe, another rhythm."
Courtney held her still-warm mug between her hands. She stood at the back of the mess hall, halfway between sitting and getting up. Her lips tightened slightly, focused.
"Okay. It's just a quick chat. Nothing weird," Courtney told herself. "I'll walk over, ask if he wants to review the cleaning shifts… or just talk."
But when she took a step, she saw it.
Cody was already leaving. Surrounded.
Noah on his left, Owen on his right. As if the world had closed in just as she decided to move.
Courtney stopped.
"How convenient," she murmured under her breath. "Like someone planned it… not that he would ever…"
She didn't finish the thought.
She took another sip of coffee and sat back down.
It wasn't worth running. Or asking.
"There'll be another time," Courtney said. Though she wasn't entirely sure she believed it.
Gwen sat in a corner, one leg crossed over the other, watching the scene through her bangs. She wasn't playing with her spoon. She wasn't pretending to be busy. She just watched, as always.
She didn't need to hear what they were saying to understand the rhythm. Genuine laughter. A nudge between Noah and Cody. Owen saying something and Cody laughing with that smile that looked soaked in morning light.
Gwen let her eyes follow him to the door.
He was moving fast.
Faster than usual.
Like he didn't want to wait for anyone.
"So today he's not staying for the awkward talk?" Gwen thought.
She didn't say it with annoyance. Or sadness. Just a hint of… curiosity.
She looked down at her empty mug and traced a circle on the table with her finger.
"It's fine. Not every day you get access to the main character," Gwen said.
She said nothing else.
She didn't follow him.
She just stayed there, in her little corner, letting the world keep turning.
And so, as Cody crossed the door with a determined stride, flanked by two voices that asked nothing of him but presence, four girls remained behind.
Not speaking to each other.
Not exchanging glances.
No need for shared words.
Each one, from her place, barely holding back.
Each one, silently convincing herself it wasn't the right moment.
But all of them…
Had wanted it to be.