Chapter 43 – Rest Day 5 (Part 5):
The breeze made the wood creak now and then, as if the treehouse were breathing slowly. Inside, the light filtering through the cracks created irregular shapes on the floor—sun patches that trembled with every movement of the leaves.
Noah and Katie sat near the window, surrounded by old but functional cushions and a small wooden box Cody had turned into an improvised table. On top, a deck of cards without jokers, two heart-shaped stones (according to Owen), and a flashlight whose only current function seemed to be decorative.
Katie stretched her legs, reclining with more confidence. Her hair fell over one shoulder, her smile was calm, and her gaze was finally free of the dull veil she'd been carrying for days.
"You know what's funny?" Katie said suddenly, still looking out the window. "Almost no one outside camp has seen me… like this."
"With the light coming in from the left?" Noah joked.
"No," she replied, laughing. "Relaxed. Without needing to act like the bright half of a duo. Sometimes I think the only thing I knew how to do was be part of something. But up here… there's nothing to prove."
Noah shifted, crossing one leg over the other.
"Maybe that part of you was just waiting for its own stage. Not everyone's born to be a side character," Noah said.
Katie turned her face toward him.
"And you? Were you always the sarcastic background guy? Or did you have a fan club we don't know about?" Katie said.
Noah raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended.
"I had a fan club in elementary school. It dissolved when I read a basic economics book during recess," Noah said.
She laughed again, louder this time.
"Seriously?!" Katie said.
"My logic was solid. Everyone played with toy cars. I wanted to understand the system that designed them," Noah said.
"You're… impossible," Katie said.
"I've heard that before," Noah replied, shrugging. Then he lowered his tone. "My house was always noisy. But inside, we were like parallel hallways. Everyone doing their own thing. Not a bad family. Just… not much shared frequency."
Katie watched him attentively, without interrupting.
"So you grew up with an internal radar for silence… and filled it with sarcasm," Katie said.
"More or less. It's like a verbal armor. It protects me from having to explain why I prefer observing over speaking," Noah said.
She lowered her head, recognizing something.
"Must be comfortable," Katie said.
"Sometimes. But not when someone breaks through that wall with a question like yours," Noah said.
Katie lifted her shoulders and smiled playfully.
"It's because I'm interested in you," Katie said.
Noah discreetly inhaled. He looked toward the window with theatrical flair.
"Are we starting confessions now? Or was that just a warm-up?" Noah said.
"Noah," Katie said.
"Alright, alright," Noah said, surrendering. "I'm interested in you too."
She watched him a moment longer, a clear spark in her eyes.
"And since when?" Katie asked.
"Since the dodgeball challenge," Noah confessed. "While everyone was screaming… you were smiling."
"I was having fun!" Katie said.
"And you kept it up even when you were about to lose," Noah said.
Katie lowered her gaze, moved.
Noah watched her.
"I think you shine more when you let the world see you don't care what they think," Noah said.
The phrase hung in the air. For a moment, everything stopped.
Katie, without thinking, leaned a little closer to him.
"You know what someone once told me?" Katie said.
"What?" Noah said.
"That some people have a flashlight inside. But they don't turn it on because they think no one would notice," Katie said.
Noah held her gaze.
"Are you saying I…?" Noah said.
"I'm saying you should let it shine more often," Katie whispered.
And both, without moving an inch, understood what didn't need to be said.
There, among creaking wood, the scent of leaves, and golden glimmers, something very gentle began to grow.
Not as a replacement.
But as a new seed.
—
As soon as Cody disappeared into the trees heading toward Chris's office, Owen took a deep breath like he was about to lead a culinary espionage mission. He spun on his heels and headed toward the cabin area, humming his own entrance theme.
"Guys… here I go," Owen murmured as if speaking to an invisible camera. "And I promise to bring them with enthusiasm… and maybe cake."
Outside the cabin, Geoff was practicing with his skateboard—or at least it looked like it—while DJ carefully arranged a necklace he'd made for Bunny out of dry twigs.
Owen appeared with his chest puffed out.
"Gentlemen! The Supreme Council of Fun (also known as Cody) has summoned you to a special activity at the treehouse," Owen said.
"Treehouse?" Geoff repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Are we spying on squirrels?"
"No! We're helping someone who needs it. And probably laughing along the way," Owen said.
DJ stood up with a soft smile.
"Is it about Katie?" DJ said.
Owen lowered his voice, though it was clear he didn't know how to whisper.
"Yes. She's sad. But Cody says today is about reminding her that camp can still be beautiful," Owen said.
"Then let's go. If there's music, sunshine… and good vibes, I'm in," Geoff said.
DJ nodded.
"Count me in," DJ said.
Harold was practicing knife throws with sharpened sticks (probably without permission), and Trent was sitting on a rock tuning his guitar.
Owen appeared through the bushes like a clumsy explorer.
"Members of the silent squad! Are you ready to bring joy to a troubled soul through unconventional methods?" Owen said.
"Is this part of a challenge?" Harold asked without stopping his throws.
"It's part of an emotional-logistical-psychological-musical plan!" Owen replied enthusiastically. "Code name: Arboreal Reanimation."
Trent stood up.
"Is it for Katie?" Trent said.
Owen nodded.
"Cody said today's about lifting spirits. And you could play something soft, or… I don't know, compose a ballad called 'Treehouse of Temporary Forgetfulness,'" Owen said.
"Too long, but I've already got a melody," Trent said, starting to follow him.
Harold threw his final stick with a dramatic thunk.
"Alright. But let it be clear—if this requires unnecessary physical contact… I'll limit it to the legal minimum," Harold said.
Owen began walking triumphantly.
"Let's go, team! This is the part of the show where the least likely group becomes the emotional catalyst without knowing how they got involved."
Geoff flashed him a smile.
"I like your vibe, bro. You're like a strategic bear," Geoff said.
DJ chuckled quietly, Harold walked cautiously as if measuring the terrain, and Trent hummed a soft riff.
As they approached, the higher branches revealed the imposing and peculiar silhouette of the treehouse. An improvised structure made of recycled wood, tarps, and a few ropes that Chef had surely not authorized.
Owen pointed upward with a sweeping gesture.
"Up there is a girl who misses her best friend… and a Noah who won't admit it matters more to him than he thinks. Let's give them something unexpected. A pleasant moment. The kind that makes this place worth it, okay?"
The others exchanged glances.
Harold was the first to break the silence.
"…Who would've thought Owen had something resembling emotional depth?" Harold said.
"I hide it with pudding shots!" Owen shouted from the lower branch as he climbed.
And so, one by one, the Moles began their ascent.
Not entirely sure what would happen up there… but willing to be part of it.
—
Cody walked the gravel path leading to the production cabin. At first glance, it looked like another abandoned camp structure, with hanging cables, peeling signs, and a beach chair inside. But within it pulsed the scheming brain of the entire operation: Chris McLean—producer, host, and agent of chaos.
Cody took a deep breath before knocking.
"Chris? It's me, Cody."
Silence.
Then, the sharp, reality-show-modulated voice responded from inside.
"Are you here to confess a secret alliance, a betrayal, or launch a new show within the show?" Chris said.
Cody opened the door carefully.
Chris was in his swivel chair, sunglasses still on despite being indoors, reviewing a clipboard while chewing gum with an annoyingly rhythmic pace.
"Nothing that dramatic. I just… wanted to ask for something. Chill. Small," Cody said.
Chris spun his chair toward him with exaggerated flair.
"Tell me you want to build a time machine using the stranded boat's engine. That would be television," Chris said.
"No, it's more… human. I want to hold a small gathering today. In the treehouse. Something like… a moment of connection. Help Katie lift her spirits after Sadie's elimination," Cody said.
Chris slowly lowered his sunglasses. For a moment, he seemed to listen with something other than pure sarcasm.
"An emotional redemption attempt?" Chris said.
"A moment to breathe," Cody corrected. "With music, food, maybe some lights. No cameras, no pressure, just… something to remind us that this, besides being a competition, is also… life."
Chris stared at him a moment longer, analyzing every word.
"Look, normally I'd say no. Spontaneous emotions have more dramatic value. But…" Chris said.
He turned and grabbed a loose sheet from the clipboard.
"You earned points with that talent scene the other night. The guitar number, the lights made from broken flashlights, the restrained tear. It was gold," Chris said.
"So… you'll authorize it?" Cody asked.
Chris thought for another second and then raised an eyebrow.
"I'll allow it… under one condition," Chris said.
Cody frowned slightly.
"What condition?" Cody asked.
"That if someone cries, you report it to me. I want to know if that treehouse has potential for more dramatic scenes. Deal?" Chris said.
Cody smiled.
"Deal," Cody said.
—
Next stop: Chef Hatchet. The minefield of military sarcasm and questionable culinary skills. Cody pushed open the kitchen's back door and stepped in carefully.
Chef was deboning something that may or may not have once been chicken.
"Here to complain about breakfast?" Chef said.
"No. Well… not this time. I'm here to ask for something," Cody said.
Chef raised an eyebrow as he stabbed the knife into the cutting board.
"What kind of favor brings you alone into MY kitchen?" Chef said.
"An emotional mission. Help Katie have a better day. I want to hold an impromptu gathering in the treehouse. I need some food that won't ruin stomachs… and if you'll allow it, a couple of speakers," Cody said.
Chef stared at him silently.
"So you're the island's new emotional leader?" Chef said.
"Just for today. Then I'll go back to being the guy no one suspects is planning things," Cody said.
Chef let out a grunt.
"What exactly do you want?" Chef said.
"A couple trays of cookies or easy-to-grab snacks. Something that won't explode. And the speakers used for the talent show. They worked… more or less," Cody said.
Chef crossed his arms.
"And what do I get?" Chef said.
Cody smiled mischievously.
"Happier campers. Fewer nighttime breakdowns. And… you avoid someone cooking on their own in the treehouse with a flashlight and a portable stove."
Chef glanced toward a corner, imagining the worst-case scenario.
"You've got five minutes. I'll give you three trays and the speakers if you carry them yourself. Don't ask me for cupcakes again. I hate them," Chef said.
"Deal!" Cody replied, already grabbing a plastic box.
As he left, pushing the door with his hip, Cody murmured to himself:
"Well. Two fronts covered… one more to go."
The smile remained on his face.
The plan was taking shape.
—
With boxes in his arms—one with speakers covered by a torn blanket, the other with "officially edible" cookie trays—Cody moved through the branches like he was delivering supplies to the resistance. The sun was starting to heat up for real, and the forest's humidity seemed to multiply with every step.
The girls' cabins were half-disheveled. Towels hung from windows, a forgotten cap rested on a branch, and the sound of scattered laughter floated from the side clearing.
There they were.
Bridgette sitting on a rock, adjusting a cord bracelet; Courtney reading while standing next to an improvised table; Lindsay staring at the sky with a dreamy expression, as if waiting for the clouds to give her emotional advice. Farther back, Gwen, in her classic shadowy corner, scribbled in a notebook with a serene look.
Cody stopped a few steps away, gently set the boxes on the ground, stretched his back… and smiled.
"Ladies… am I interrupting something transcendental or just morning reflections on the existential void of this camp?" Cody said.
Bridgette was the first to lift her head.
"Cody?" Bridgette said.
Lindsay turned and clapped once—literally.
"Your hair is still perfect!" Lindsay said.
Courtney raised an eyebrow above her book.
"Are you handing out clandestine snacks? Because I'd love to pretend I'm surprised," Courtney said.
Cody crouched beside the boxes.
"Actually… I'm here to invite you. All of you," Cody said.
Gwen looked up, her eyebrow arched like a silent question.
"Invite us to what?" Gwen said.
"To an afternoon in the treehouse. But not just any afternoon. Music, conversation, relaxation, good company… Katie's up there with Noah, and the Moles are climbing. We're creating a small safe space to breathe," Cody said.
Courtney closed her book with more force than necessary.
"And this initiative was approved by Chris?" Courtney said.
"Of course. I had to promise that if someone cried, I'd report it for future storylines." Cody smiled. "Which, between us, we already know is going to happen."
Bridgette stood up, letting the bracelet dangle from her wrist.
"Is Katie okay?" Bridgette said.
"Getting better. And that's why I thought it'd help her to see that camp isn't always divided into rivals and challenges. That there's room for real people who want her close," Cody said.
Lindsay gave a small enthusiastic jump.
"I'll bring wildflowers to decorate!" Lindsay said.
"And an extra sarong, in case someone wants a visual picnic," Cody added, pulling a wrinkled blanket from a bag. "Courtesy of Owen. Well, I think it was his bedsheet, but… now it's decoration."
Courtney crossed her arms, but her frown wasn't disagreement. More like… internal doubt.
"Is this an emotional game? A way to expose us?" Courtney said.
"No. This is a gesture. Nothing more." Cody lowered his tone. "No cameras. No hidden challenges. Just… people making space for someone else."
Gwen closed her notebook. Stood up.
"Sounds… kind of interesting," Gwen said.
"Which is exactly why we should do it," Cody said.
The girls exchanged glances. None said what they were thinking. But they all understood.
And one by one, they nodded.
Bridgette was the first to follow him. Then Lindsay, hopping over roots.
Courtney took three more steps. Gwen was last, picking up her notebook with deliberate calm.
And Cody, leading the way, boxes in arms and a smile that didn't boast—just shared—guided them in silence.
Toward a treehouse.
Toward a moment.
And maybe, toward something no one expected when the day began.
—
The treehouse creaked slightly under the weight of 18 campers—excited, skeptical, or simply bored—sitting in a circle on blankets, improvised cushions, and rice sacks turned into beanbags. Flashlights hung from branches like off-season Christmas lights. Everything smelled a bit like wood, sunshine… and questionable cookies.
At the center, standing on a chair visibly reinforced with tape and optimism, Cody held a microphone connected to a scratched-up speaker. Owen, his assistant master of ceremonies, played with a green flashlight, dramatically pointing it at his friend's face.
Cody raised his voice with such theatrical flair that even Gwen couldn't help but raise an eyebrow:
"Campers of the chaotic present! Bass, Moles, confused souls who still don't understand how we survived yesterday's breakfast…" Cody declared.
Expectant silence.
"…we have gathered here today… to unite these two people… in holy matrimony," Cody said.
A barely contained uproar.
Noah, sitting near the railing with his arms crossed, coughed violently, choking on his last sip of water.
Katie, right beside him, spat her juice onto her own blanket and turned to Cody with wide eyes.
"What?!" they both exclaimed, perfectly synchronized.
Leshawna burst out laughing, covering her mouth.
DJ let out a soft "oh no," and Courtney muttered "are you serious?!" while Lindsay clapped with genuine excitement.
Owen elbowed Cody in the side.
"That wasn't the intro! You grabbed the wrong draft!" Owen said.
Cody put a hand to his head, feigning alarm.
"Oh right! That was for Monday. I mixed up the script," Cody said.
Bridgette giggled quietly while Geoff whistled as if actual wedding bells were ringing.
Cody raised both hands, still standing on the chair, with a crooked smile.
"Forget that opening… although let's admit it, it would've been a fantastic twist. Okay, now for real: we've gathered here today because…" Cody said.
Dramatic pause.
"…let's be honest: no one had better plans for this hour, and the emotional atmosphere has been so stagnant that even Harold can smell the tension," Cody said.
Harold raised an eyebrow, unsure if he should feel called out.
"So the event that brings us together isn't a wedding—yet—but something far more serious: the First Improvised Dance Tournament of Camp Wawanakwa! Long name, zero budget, high expectations," Cody said.
Owen activated the speaker, which emitted a sound somewhere between a slow-motion birthday party and a vacuum remix. Gwen closed her eyes, resigned. Trent was already tuning his guitar, just in case.
Cody raised the mic once more and concluded:
"And yes… yes, Noah and Katie… you can breathe again. No one's getting married today… unless you dance too well," Cody said.
Noah muttered something that sounded like "I refuse to be part of this" while Katie covered her face, laughing and still blushing.
The treehouse erupted in applause, whistles, laughter… and it was already starting to feel like something special.
With the last echoes of laughter still floating among the branches, Cody stepped down from the chair, spun theatrically, and positioned himself beside a medium-sized box decorated with drawings of roller skates, musical notes, and what looked like a cheese with eyes.
Owen tapped the speaker with a spoon, creating a sound alert somewhere between a toaster alarm and a faulty hair dryer.
"Attention dancers, dancees, and figures who move to the rhythm of confusion!" Cody announced, now fully in master-of-ceremonies mode.
"Here are the official, unofficial, and potentially editable rules of the First Improvised Dance Tournament of Camp Wawanakwa!" Cody said.
Geoff clapped enthusiastically.
Courtney crossed her arms with a critical look but stayed attentive.
DJ was already bobbing his head to music that hadn't started yet.
Cody placed his hand on the box as if pledging allegiance to its contents.
"Inside this sacred box—the Scenic Destiny Box™—there are three types of slips of paper:"
Musical genres
"From the most classic to the most embarrassing. Some examples you might draw:"
2000s pop Dramatic tango 70s disco Sticky salsa Free ballet with emotional expression Video game dance 'Birthday party with awkward uncles' style
Lindsay raised her hand.
"Is that last one like… moving without rhythm but with spirit?"
Cody nodded solemnly.
"Exactly."
Format
"Random format. You might get:"
Solo Duo (mixed or not) Group (three to five people)
Harold raised a finger.
"Do duos need synchronization or can we go full contemporary art mode?"
"Both options will be highly appreciated," Cody replied. "Especially if they make Owen clap spontaneously."
Owen was already practicing his reality-show judge clap.
Special ticket
Here, Cody pulled a small red envelope from a knotted bag.
"And finally… this special card."
Dramatic silence.
The envelope shimmered with its own light—or maybe it was poorly sealed glitter.
"This ticket won't be revealed until one of you draws it. I'll just say that whoever finds it… will change the entire game."
Leshawna clicked her tongue. "Is that a promise or a trap?"
"Both," Cody replied with a grin. "But the best things at camp always start that way."
Final rules:
Each pair or group gets 3 minutes to plan their routine. Performances last 90 seconds, with music selected by Owen. The rest vote by raising their hands. In case of a tie, the tiebreaker is… a dramatic stare-down.
(Noah was already slowly hiding behind DJ.)
Gwen lowered the notebook she had between her legs.
"Is there a real prize?"
Cody lifted a tray wrapped in cloth.
"Cookies. Made by Chef. But baked while Chef wasn't looking. Legally edible, morally questionable."
Tyler grabbed one and inspected it like a moon rock.
Trent strummed his guitar softly.
"And how do we sign up?"
Cody turned dramatically toward the door.
"Volunteers… step up to the box and let destiny decide what rhythm runs through your veins."
The background music started.
The event was officially…
DANCING.