Chapter 46 - Day of Rest 5 (Part 8)
Cody returned to the center with a bow worthy of the final shot in a movie no one knew he was starring in. He wiped his forehead with exaggerated flair, spun the microphone back into his hand with unnecessary drama, and raised his gaze toward the camp.
"Dear witnesses…" Cody said in a calm, almost solemn voice. "What you just saw wasn't a simple bolero. No, sir. It was a spiritual experience. A rhythmic connection. A therapy session with no invoice."
Some applauded, others murmured. Katie whistled. Geoff shouted "bravoooo!" as if still in disco mode.
Cody smiled. Not because of the noise… but because of the silence that followed.
Because he felt it.
The eyes of Gwen, Heather, even Lindsay. Not daggers, but not bubbles either.
Measured looks. Contained. As if the song hadn't quite ended for them.
As if the bolero still floated—now more awkward than elegant.
"Did I go overboard with the romance?" Cody thought, adjusting his jacket collar. "Naaaah."
But before he could continue his show…
"Bro!" Owen shouted from the side, pointing at him like exposing an emotional fugitive. "That was the smoothest, slowest, and most committed thing I've seen you do… and that includes pouring cereal!"
"My respect!" Geoff said, approaching with emphatic steps. "Because one thing is dancing for points… but you danced like you were signing marriage papers."
Cody laughed and raised a hand with forced humility.
"What can I say? You hear Luis Miguel and… something inside activates. Like my skeleton remembers a past life on a grand piano."
"And your face… Bridgette was way too close… I swear we were all expecting that kiss!" Owen shouted, laughing.
"You had a weird look," Noah murmured from his spot, unmoving. "Like someone dancing… but also betting his soul."
"And did I win?" Cody asked, raising an eyebrow.
Noah just smiled.
"Let's say you set the bar weird. High. But weird," Noah said.
Cody slowly turned toward the rest of the group. He scanned their faces like taking emotional attendance. Gwen looked more closed off than before. Heather held an expression so neutral it felt like an unauthorized opinion. Lindsay bit her lip. Courtney simply looked at him evaluatively, as if weighing whether it had been strategy… or accident.
"Well, well, before this turns into a passive-aggressive jealousy musical…" Cody said, resuming his host tone, "let's keep the show going!"
He spun the microphone between his fingers.
"Because this isn't over, campers. The bolero may have shaken hearts… and untrained hips… but the competition continues! And the next round… promises miscoordination, visual accidents, and new traumatic revelations disguised as rhythm," Cody said.
"Can we draw cards again?" Izzy shouted from her semi-acrobatic position in a tree.
"Pair me with a watermelon!" Owen added.
Cody rubbed his hands like summoning destiny again.
"Get ready… because the dance floor hasn't seen its end. Only… its most unexpected turns," Cody said.
And with that, he leaned toward the box of decisions, knowing the worst—and the best—was yet to come.
"And now, after that free session of poetry in motion…" Cody continued with the air of a professional master of ceremonies, "it's time to set this floor on fire again!"
Owen, from the booth, waved his arms like preparing a sound explosion.
"DROP IT, BRO, I'M READY!" Owen shouted.
"Not yet," Cody said, reaching into the card box. "First we go with the number… because emotional math matters too."
He shuffled the cards with calculated exaggeration and lifted one.
"Duo!" Cody announced.
Some nodded, others exchanged glances. The bolero had set a high emotional bar… but the crowd was thirsty for contrast.
Cody took a breath before drawing the names.
"And the next to face dance destiny are…"
Pause.
"Leshawna… and Duncan!" Cody said.
There was an explosive mix of laughter, shocked expressions, and a prolonged "Uuuuuuuuh" worthy of a reality show.
"What?!" Duncan shouted, already standing with arms crossed. "No way!"
Leshawna was already smiling.
"Come on, bad boy," she said, walking forward like she'd just won a bet. "The nerds, the romantics, and the party animals have danced. Time to represent the antisocials with rhythm."
"I don't… I don't dance hip hop in front of an audience!" Duncan said, pointing to the sky as if that validated his protest.
"It's that or I drag you myself," Leshawna replied, rolling her shoulders.
DJ raised his arms with a smile.
"You know you're not getting out of this, right?" he said. "Better with swing than with shoves."
Duncan exhaled like he'd just lost a bet with his conscience.
"Fine. But for the record, I'm doing this to decompress the atmosphere… not for fun," Duncan said.
"Sure," Katie murmured from her spot. "And Cody never has emotional intentions."
Noah chuckled quietly. Gwen didn't comment… but her boot was already tapping the ground.
"Campers!" Cody shouted, raising the final card like revealing the future. "The genre chosen by the gods of the floor and Izzy's chaos is… hip hop!"
Owen raised both fists in the air.
"Now get ready for jumps, cross steps, and possible killer stare-downs!"
"This is gonna be gold!" Geoff said, looking for a good angle.
Cody turned solemnly toward the booth.
"Owen… whenever you're ready. Light up this floor," Cody said.
And the beat… was about to drop.
Missy Elliott – Lose Control (Ft. Ciara & Fat Man Scoop)
The bass kept pounding, as if Missy herself were watching from the sky, demanding precision and boldness.
The beat rose and fell, marking the terrain like war drums.
Duncan and Leshawna were already fully immersed in their universe. What began as a choreographic battle now transformed into a kind of physical narrative: challenge, attack, response, and evolution.
Duncan marked a sequence of fast lateral steps, palms synchronized to the beat, his body spinning with unexpected fluidity for someone whose expression remained a mix of annoyance and control.
Every time he stepped, the ground seemed to respond with more force.
"He's serious, but he's burning the floor!" Geoff shouted.
"That guy frowns with rhythm!" Izzy shouted.
Cody, still with the mic in hand and the energy of a festival host, didn't miss a beat.
"And there he goes, ladies and gentlemen!" Cody said, walking the edge of the floor like giving play-by-play of a boxing final. "Duncan, the skeptic of eight counts, the beat renegade… is in crossfire mode!"
Leshawna wasn't intimidated.
She lowered her center of gravity, leaned her torso forward, and began a glide sequence that left Owen in a trance.
Then, she spun around, stopping with a shoulder hit and a controlled fall backward that ended in a bounce.
The floor shook.
So did the audience.
"MY SPINE JUST POPPED!" Owen shouted, clutching his neck.
"Was that illegal?!" DJ said.
"It was glorious!" Lindsay shouted, eyes wide.
Bridgette and Katie looked at each other, unsure whether to clap or spin in their seats from sheer excitement.
Noah clapped very slowly, without sarcasm, for the first time in the round.
And then came the final twist of the round.
Leshawna and Duncan approached the center.
They stood just one step apart.
They looked at each other.
Not mockingly.
With recognition.
"Okay. You're doing good," Leshawna murmured.
"You're pushing me to dance. I almost like you," Duncan said.
"Save your compliments for when you lose," Leshawna replied.
And then: fist bump.
No show. No choreography.
Just a gesture that said: "Let's go again."
And they did.
Duncan dropped to the floor, rolled on his back, and came back up with a kind of expressive parkour no one thought he had in his repertoire.
Leshawna returned with a rhythmic strike step, marking with feet and shoulders, then released a wave sequence that ended with a hip pop so powerful several let out a sincere "woo!"
"Campers, I don't know what's happening!" Cody shouted. "But they're doing it! THEY'RE DOING IT WITH FIRE!"
The music rose.
And the floor was boiling.
The song entered its final curve. The beat lightened for a moment, but everyone knew the finale was coming.
Leshawna slid forward, spun in two counts, and stopped in a pose with arms extended, chest lifted, gaze upward.
Duncan did the same from the other side. This time he didn't run or rush. He let himself fall forward with arms closed in a cross, spun once… and raised his gaze just as the beat dropped one last time.
They both walked with firm steps toward the center of the dance floor.
They weren't dancing.
Just walking.
But with all the weight of the moment.
They met at the center.
Stood still for three seconds.
No words.
No signals.
And then—as if the beat dictated it—they both extended one arm forward, spun in opposite directions, lifted one leg each, and dropped to the final beat with a synchronized clap.
Silence.
Then, explosion.
Ovation.
Whistles.
Elbow to elbow.
Shouts from every direction.
"THAT WAS A HOLY WAR!" Izzy shouted, rolling across the floor.
"WHAT STYLE!" DJ roared.
"I DON'T KNOW WHO WON!" Geoff said.
"I WON!!" Owen shrieked. No one argued.
Cody climbed the central platform like ascending a podium lit by funk angels.
"Campers… we saw it! The duel we didn't know we needed! Duncan, the anti-dance man, and Leshawna, the queen of wild precision!" Cody said.
Leshawna raised her arms.
Duncan crossed his… but didn't leave.
Cody smiled.
"And the best part… is that this is just beginning. Because every number adds something more. A brush. A laugh. A challenge. Or, in this case, a new legend," Cody said.
The floor emptied slowly, as if no one wanted to be the first to leave that space that—for a few minutes—seemed to float.
The sun leaned over the camp clearing, gilding the treetops and giving everything a warm late-afternoon tone. After the choreographic battle between Duncan and Leshawna, Cody had raised his arms and, with the voice of a self-proclaimed savior:
"Intermission, campers! Time to recharge, air out your socks, and give your hips a break!" Cody said.
Cheers, theatrical sighs, and more than one voluntary collapse onto chairs and cushions scattered across the floor. The music paused. The ground stopped vibrating. The tournament breathed.
Lindsay, Beth, and Heather had taken over a sunny corner of the clearing. Lindsay spun a water bottle enthusiastically.
"Did you see that move Leshawna did!? BOOM! My braids almost flew off from the shock," Lindsay said.
"It was… powerful," Beth murmured, eyebrows still raised.
Heather, arms crossed, said nothing at first. But seeing the others' looks, she sighed.
"I'm just saying if the next rhythm is ballet, I'm going out to win," Heather said. No one knew if she was joking. Maybe not even her.
Elsewhere, Katie and Noah sat very close, exchanging quiet laughs while sharing a snack.
"Do you think Cody planned that whole bolero or made it up on the spot?" Katie asked.
"If he planned it, he should sell the course," Noah replied. "But if not… I'm starting to fear him."
Katie laughed and leaned briefly on his shoulder.
"It was sweet. I mean… the bolero. Ours was sweet too. Chaotic, but sweet," Katie said.
"It's our style. Elegant chaos," Noah said.
Near the sound booth, Owen ate from a tupperware with Olympic hunger while DJ and Geoff debated the previous battle.
"I swear when Duncan spun on his back I thought it was a hidden camera!" Geoff said.
"I'm just glad nothing got dislocated," DJ replied.
"That was dance, bro!" Owen said with his mouth full. "It was like watching a crocodile and a jaguar make peace through hip hop!"
Meanwhile, a bit farther off, Harold, Trent, and Gwen shared shade under an improvised canopy.
"Did you know there's a hip hop variant that mixes military steps and samurai rhythm?" Harold said.
"Sounds painful," Trent murmured, drinking water.
Gwen watched the center of camp, where Cody walked, now with his jacket unbuttoned and the microphone dangling from his wrist.
"Do you think Cody regrets entering the tournament?" Trent asked.
Gwen shook her head, still watching.
"No. But I think he didn't expect to dance like that… or for it to feel so real," Gwen said.
Harold nodded gravely.
"That's how the inner dance begins. It's contagious," Harold said.
And indeed, Cody was crossing the clearing at that moment, walking not toward the box, nor the booth… but toward Courtney, who was writing in her spiral notebook with a furrowed brow like analyzing emotional war statistics.
He stopped in front of her with a somewhat shy smile.
"Your verdict, critical counselor?" Cody said. "Did I survive the bolero without damaging diplomatic relations?"
Courtney looked up, still serious.
Then raised an eyebrow and closed the notebook.
"I didn't expect you to dance like that. I admit it," Courtney said.
"'Like that' as in… coordinated? Dreamy? Disconcertingly expressive?" Cody joked.
"Like someone who wasn't acting," Courtney said, then barely smiled. "But it worked."
"Was that a compliment?" Cody asked.
"It was a benign observation. Treasure it. I don't repeat," Courtney said.
"I'll keep it in my emotional pocket," Cody said.
Courtney reopened her notebook.
"Don't get used to it. Though if you end up dancing cumbia with Heather, then I do wish you luck," Courtney said.
Cody laughed, spun on one foot, and bowed like an actor taking his leave.
"Camp of sharp critics… exactly as it should be," Cody said.
Courtney still had the notebook open when Cody dropped down—measured theatrically—beside her. He didn't sit like someone seeking peace, but like someone playing at being casual… with an ace up his sleeve.
"So… what did you jot down in that notebook? Forbidden steps? Posture errors? Or did you just sketch my left profile from three different angles?" Cody said.
Courtney looked up, not quite erasing the smile she could no longer suppress.
"I was making an objective balance of the tournament so far. Your moves don't qualify as a technical threat," Courtney said.
"Whew! Good thing. Because I swear I caused a collective micro-heart attack during the bolero," Cody said.
"Only for those who think moving slowly equals dancing well," Courtney said.
"Courtney…" Cody said.
"Yes," Courtney said.
"You're blushing," Cody said.
She blinked.
Her hand discreetly brushed her cheek.
Almost imperceptible.
But not enough.
"I'm not," Courtney said.
"Tournament-level lie. I say it was when I mentioned jealous glances," Cody said.
Cody turned toward the center of the clearing with an innocent tone.
"Because there were some, you know? I won't name names…"
Courtney huffed.
"Cody…" Courtney said.
"…or point with my nose…" Cody said.
"Cody." Courtney said.
"…but someone squeezed a cushion when I did the first spin. Someone else looked down when I took Bridgette's waist. And someone else started writing so hard I worried about the paper," Cody said.
Courtney lowered the notebook to her lap, closing it.
"Not everyone takes it as… passionately as you," Courtney said.
"Which is a shame. Because dancing like that… is the most sincere thing I've done all week," Cody said.
She looked at him.
And for a second, there was no sarcasm.
Just space.
And memory.
Then Cody lowered his voice a bit.
"Besides… there's something you and I still haven't talked about," Cody said.
Courtney blinked.
The notebook ceased to exist.
"What do you mean?" Courtney said, though she already knew exactly what he meant.
"Well… let's just say there's a slightly damp moment still floating between us from the last water challenge. And I'm not talking about wet clothes," Cody said.
Courtney's heart gave a slight jolt.
She hid it as best she could.
But her cheeks…
betrayed her again.
"This isn't the moment," Courtney murmured, looking away.
And that was all Cody needed to laugh.
Not a loud laugh.
But that low, sweet, under-the-breath laugh.
The kind of laugh well known… to anyone who'd heard it before.
"Alright. Not the moment. But just so you know… the topic is archived. Not forgotten," Cody said.
Courtney shook her head… but she smiled too.
And from the other side of camp…
Gwen saw it all.
Not the exact dialogue.
Not the words.
But the gestures.
She saw Cody lean toward her.
She saw Courtney briefly cover her face with the notebook.
She saw the smile between them.
And she felt it.
That uncomfortable tingle.
That push in the chest.
As if something that had been hers by habit… shifted out of place.
Heather noticed. She was half a meter away.
"Interesting," Heather murmured, without lifting her gaze from her water bottle.
Gwen didn't respond.
But she didn't stop watching.
"I'm just saying… you don't laugh like that with just anyone," Heather said.
Gwen crossed her arms.
"They're not a couple," Gwen said.
"Of course not," Heather said, like tossing bait. "They just share glances. Dances. Laughter. Silences. And improvised kisses."
Gwen remained silent.
But inside…
"He doesn't have to be mine," Gwen thought. "We never said anything. We never talked about… what it was. It just happened. Happened more than once. And he stayed. And I did too. Because it meant something. Didn't it?"
Cody was now gesturing something to Courtney, who laughed, still blushing.
"But if it was just a game, why does it hurt when he plays it with someone else?" Gwen thought.
Gwen lowered her gaze.
Lips pressed.
Throat warm.
Gwen couldn't explain it. Or maybe she didn't want to.
The scene before her was simple: Cody and Courtney exchanging jokes with that fluid naturalness, that touch between mischief and trust that doesn't ask permission. Cody smiled like someone who felt safe, and Courtney—the impassive, the feared—had flushed cheeks. That was enough.
And yet… she wasn't supposed to be affected by it.
She wasn't supposed to feel this heat in her throat, this tension in her crossed fingers, this uncomfortable urge to look away… while not looking away.
Because they weren't a couple.
They never were.
They just understood each other with glances.
They'd only shared a few prolonged silences.
And a couple of kisses hidden between laughter, after games that "meant nothing."
But something… did mean something.
At least, that's what she believed.
Gwen remembered that moment in the water, that moment drawing, and that moment in the woods when he followed her.
"You're overthinking," he'd told her then.
"I always overthink," she replied.
"It's not bad. I struggle to think in time. But with you I feel… quicker."
They laughed.
And then fell silent.
And then…
The kiss wasn't planned.
And it wasn't impulsive.
It was because of what was in the air and they refused to keep ignoring it.
Now, from her corner of camp, Gwen wondered how many others had felt that same thing with Cody.
Courtney?
Bridgette?
Someone else?
"There's no point in getting mad," she thought. "We never talked about rules. There were no agreements. No promises."
But that didn't stop it from hurting a little that he could laugh like that with someone else.
As if he no longer remembered how his eyes lit up when it was with her.
Heather was still nearby. She didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. The half-smile was there. So was the waiting.
Izzy rolled by with a bicycle wheel that clearly didn't belong to anyone.
"Emotional pause feels heavy, friends of poorly formulated love!" Izzy shouted.
"Quiet," Gwen murmured to herself.
Katie noticed something. From her spot, between a comment with Noah, she briefly turned her gaze. She frowned. Said nothing. Just looked down. As if she understood.
Courtney now let out another muffled laugh, covering her face with the notebook.
Cody pretended to jot something in it while imitating her voice.
Gwen stood up.
Not quickly.
Just enough to escape the scene.
"I'm getting water," Gwen said, though she wasn't speaking to anyone.
Heather followed her with her eyes.
"More emotional thirst?" Heather murmured.
Gwen didn't answer.
She just walked.
Because staying and watching was worse.
Because leaving… was the only thing she could control in that moment.
And Cody, from his side of the clearing, still didn't know.
Still hadn't noticed.