Chapter 47 - Day of Rest 5 (Part 9)
The break ended with the same rhythm it had begun: without warning.
Cody stepped back into the center as if he'd never stopped being the host, the microphone dangling from his wrist, the smile still in place—more a shield than a reflection.
"Campers, did you miss me?" Cody said, walking to the beat of his own invisible drum. "Because I've been busy… processing emotions and warming up destiny's data! And that can only mean one thing: the action returns!"
Most responded with applause, whistles, or half-hearted claps. Katie shouted "Let's go!" from her spot, and Owen spun around in slow motion.
Courtney reopened her notebook with almost defiant efficiency.
Gwen, from her corner, crossed her arms with more force than necessary.
She didn't say it, but she was waiting to see what Cody would do now.
Cody, either unaware—or pretending to be—approached the Box of Destiny with solemn air.
"Let's start with the basics… how many, who, and how likely is this to end in a televised romantic crisis?" Cody said while shuffling the papers. "Drumroll, please…"
Owen banged two empty cans with a stick.
A decent drumroll given the resources.
Cody lifted the first card with dramatic flair.
"Duo!" he said, raising his arms. "Another intimate round! Close enough to see each other's pupils, but not so close as to forget there's an audience!"
Lindsay clapped happily. Izzy spun around like she'd been reactivated.
"Now let's see… which two souls destiny will unite without informed consent," Cody said, shuffling the names in the second box.
He pulled the first.
Frowned as if he couldn't believe it.
"Trent," Cody read, with an intrigued smile.
Trent raised both eyebrows. Then his arms.
"Let's go!" Trent shouted, standing up. "Time to shine!"
"And his partner will be…" Cody said, lifting the second card with a perfectly timed pause.
"Gwen," Cody said.
The camp reacted like something heavy had dropped in the middle of the clearing.
Trent was irritating. Not shy. Enthusiastic.
"Double let's go!" Trent said, bouncing slightly on his feet.
Gwen said nothing.
She didn't respond to Trent.
She responded to Cody.
Her eyes went straight to him as if searching for something specific.
A grimace.
A reaction.
A crack in the smile.
Cody… didn't give it.
Just more of the same.
Yes, Gwen… didn't like it.
She walked firmly to the center. Not slow. Not rushed. Like someone who had already decided not to explain anything this time.
"Well, well, well," Cody said, resuming his comic presenter tone. "This duo has musical history, artistic chemistry… and an emotional load that surely WON'T interrupt the rhythm flow, right?"
"Never!" Trent shouted, positioning himself with enthusiasm.
"I'm ready for anything! Except strong winds or passive-aggressive comments," Trent said.
Leshawna whistled from her spot.
"Gwen doesn't do subtle. Be careful!" Leshawna said.
Duncan leaned toward Noah, eyes still on the center.
"If that idiot gets cocky, Cody's gonna smash him with the mic," Duncan said, hoping it would happen.
"Wow. Preventive violence?" Noah asked.
"Emotional precaution," Duncan replied.
Noah shrugged.
"I'm just saying Cody has enough girls orbiting him not to die over Gwen," Noah said.
"They're not a couple," Noah added.
Owen turned from the booth.
"But if they were… it'd hurt. Though he deserves it for having bolero-face all day," Owen said.
Meanwhile, Cody kept presenting as if he hadn't heard a thing.
"And here they are! The introspective artist with slow-motion eyes and the queen of elegant sarcasm: Trent and Gwen!" Cody said, spinning like an unstoppable master of ceremonies.
Gwen took her place at the center. She didn't look at Trent directly.
But she didn't look at Cody either.
And that said a lot.
Courtney watched from her spot, not writing.
Katie exchanged a glance with Bridgette, like someone who suspects the next bomb won't be loud… but visual.
Heather only glanced sideways.
And Lindsay hugged her knees with a thoughtful gesture, unsure whether to cheer or ask questions.
"Who picked the genre? What rhythm will bathe this… tense alliance?" Geoff asked from the back.
"Does it matter?" DJ murmured. "With that energy, any genre will be explosive."
Cody, still smiling… didn't answer.
But inside, maybe he felt it.
Because Gwen wasn't looking at him.
And in his smile… something cracked.
Cody still held the microphone like a scepter, but his gaze slid across the camp with that unsettling mix of neutrality and spark. The silence wasn't total, but just enough for the sound of the card unfolding to seem more dramatic than necessary.
"And the genre is…" Cody said, lifting the final card with one finger. "…romantic ballad."
The clearing seemed to hold its breath.
Lindsay let out a soft "oh."
Noah murmured, "This is about to get interesting."
Katie smacked Noah's arm with the back of her hand.
Heather squinted like a wolf sensing drama.
But the one who felt it most was Trent.
His whole body tensed a tenth of a second before bursting into internal gratitude.
He didn't shout.
He didn't celebrate.
But inside, the guy was already writing a dedication to life.
Thank you, universe, Trent thought.
Thank you for this alignment. Thank you for slow tempos. Thank you for excuses for sustained eye contact and hands in the right place. Thank you for nine. The perfect number to count to before emotional apocalypse.
Because yes, he was counting.
• One. Gwen isn't negotiable.
· Two. Gwen wasn't looking at him badly.
Three. Cody didn't intervene.
· Four. The song hadn't started yet.
· Five. He was already sweating.
· Six. His hands trembled just enough.
· Seven. Gwen was still there.
· Eight. The floor accepted him.
· Nine. Cody smiled.
And that unsettled him.
But not more than Gwen.
She stood next to Trent at the center, looking ahead, but like someone sure something was about to happen.
A word.
A joke.
A look from Cody that crossed the air with specific weight.
But it didn't come.
Cody kept talking, his tone light, his jokes at the usual rhythm.
"Well, well… who would've thought?" Cody said with a nearly rehearsed smile. "Trent, our troubadour in ripped jeans, ready to slow dance with the queen of emotional eyeliner. Is this art… or karma?"
Most laughed.
Katie clapped once.
Izzy shouted "KISS!" without context.
Gwen didn't react.
She waited.
Waited for something.
A tiny sign of jealousy, annoyance, contained sarcasm.
Some reaction from the Cody she knew: clumsy, brilliant, reactive, deeply emotional.
But no.
He just smiled.
Like nothing.
Like it didn't matter.
Like there hadn't been shared silent nights.
Like the flashlight kiss hadn't happened.
Like his dance floor had already been danced.
And that burned.
Not like fire.
But like ice.
The kind that settles softly between the bones and then… hurts.
From her side, Courtney watched without saying anything.
Bridgette leaned toward Beth with a raised eyebrow.
Leshawna murmured something to DJ, who only moved forward with a grave expression.
Owen lowered the background volume, prepping the channel for the song.
"Bro," Owen whispered from the booth to Cody. "You okay?"
"I'm perfect," Cody replied without turning.
Geoff crossed his arms.
"Well, you hide it too well," Geoff said.
Duncan, from the corner, raised an eyebrow.
"You're telling me if that idiot Trent crosses a line… you won't bury him next to his guitar?" Duncan said.
"That sounds romantic," Noah murmured.
"Let's be honest," Geoff added. "Cody has enough attention not to die over Gwen. Technically they're nothing."
"Yeah," Owen said. "But the heart doesn't respect technicalities. And that… is going to hurt."
On the floor, Gwen finally turned her eyes toward Cody.
A silent look.
Direct.
Brief.
And once again, all she got was:
A smile.
Trent positioned himself beside her. Nervous. Excited.
Gwen took a deep breath.
And prepared to pretend everything was fine… even if every step felt like a silent accusation.
The dance floor was ready.
The sun no longer shone brightly; it was beginning to descend, tinting the camp with a deep orange hue. The elongated shadows made everything feel more intimate, more theatrical. As if the stage had shrunk to that clearing, that imperfect rectangle of packed earth where so many emotions—and several choreographic stumbles—had already taken place.
Trent stood centered and excited. He rotated his wrists as if preparing his fingers to play an invisible guitar. His chest rose and fell with steady rhythm. He had waited for this opportunity like someone waiting for the perfect song to be seen.
Gwen stood next to him, a rigid line in human form. It wasn't that she didn't want to dance. It wasn't that she couldn't. She simply… wasn't dancing with the person she wanted.
She had looked at Cody several times since the rhythm was announced.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
None got a reaction.
He smiled.
Naturally.
Calmly.
Perfectly… comfortable.
And that hurt more.
Courtney, from her spot, pretended to write. Katie no longer pretended to look elsewhere.
Lindsay rested her cheek in her palm, attentive. Chewing brezo gum. Izzy spun on a rope tied to a branch that clearly no one authorized.
DJ watched in silence.
Duncan crossed his arms.
Noah swallowed a piece of energy bar without blinking.
And then, just as Owen leaned in to play the chosen track…
Cody raised his hand.
"One moment," Cody said, stepping away from the sound box, microphone still in hand.
"Change of rhythm?" Owen asked, confused.
"No," Cody said, and this time his voice was lower, clearer. More honest.
"I'm going to sing this," Cody said.
A murmur swept through the group. Heather raised her eyebrows. Geoff whistled.
"What?" Trent said, frowning. "Was that planned?"
"No," Cody replied, walking toward a bench with a tangled cable. "But that doesn't make it any less valid."
Gwen looked at him.
Not directly.
But enough for it to be noticed.
Her whole body rotated two degrees toward him.
Courtney closed her notebook.
Katie murmured "oh God."
Owen shrugged and lowered the system volume.
Cody sat on the edge of the platform they'd used as a mixing table.
He didn't center himself.
He didn't ask for attention.
He just stayed there.
And then he began.
Lady Gaga – "Shallow" (adaptation)
Each verse floated unhurried.
Each word seemed spoken directly to someone…
and everyone knew who.
"I'm falling…" Cody murmured.
"…in all the good times I find myself longing… for change."
Absolute silence.
No one breathed loudly.
Izzy hung upside down without making a sound.
Even Duncan stopped commenting.
Because there was something there.
Something.
Something that wasn't performance.
Gwen looked at him, this time without pretending not to.
Her eyes wide, fixed on Cody.
Her posture cracked a little.
Not from nerves… from truth.
Trent prepared at her side.
He didn't exactly understand what was happening.
He just knew he had to stay ready.
Cody continued.
His voice grew without breaking.
It wasn't a show.
It was a confession with rhythm.
"In the shallow, shallow…" Cody sang.
"…now we're far from the surface."
It was a simple verse.
But in that moment…
it was everything.
—
The song continued.
And Gwen began to move.
Not because of the rhythm.
Not because of a countdown.
But because she couldn't stay still.
Trent extended his hand, and Gwen took it.
Because that's how it had to be.
Because they were in competition.
Because everyone was watching.
But her eyes were still elsewhere.
In that corner.
In that voice.
In him.
—
The music kept floating in the air.
Cody didn't dance.
Didn't move forward.
Didn't look at anyone else.
He just sang.
And he did so from that corner of the improvised stage, where the afternoon light began to blend with the artificial glow that Owen and Geoff clumsily manipulated with flashlights and lamps hung between branches.
Gwen took the first step.
Trent followed carefully, measuring the distance, not forcing anything. His smile remained steady, that mix of concentration and hope that made him move with elegant awkwardness. When he placed his hand on her waist, it trembled slightly… but respectfully. Gwen let him.
But at no point… did she look him in the eyes.
Not because she couldn't.
But because the eyes she sought were… across the clearing.
Trent guided Gwen's palm to his left shoulder. She placed it without hesitation, as if rehearsed… though the choreography was new.
The movement was slow, gentle.
It should have been romantic.
But Gwen wasn't there.
Her body followed Trent.
But her heart was… listening.
"Isn't it hard keeping it so tough?" Cody sang, and his voice cracked on the final word—not from poor pitch, but from what it carried behind it.
Everyone heard it.
Everyone felt it.
The camp had stopped watching a performance.
Now they were witnessing a story that had never been told aloud.
Gwen spun.
Trent held her firmly.
But when she returned to face forward, she didn't look at her partner.
She looked toward Cody.
Just in time for the next verse.
"I'm out of place…" he murmured.
"…watch me dive in…"
And then, something in Gwen's posture changed.
Not like someone falling.
But like someone who can no longer hide that they're falling.
Her gaze dropped.
Her jaw tensed.
And her hand—the one resting on Trent's shoulder—trembled slightly.
Trent thought it was nerves.
Oh, emotion!
He didn't understand it wasn't because of him.
From the edge, Noah took a deep breath.
"This… isn't going to end well," Noah murmured.
"Why?" Courtney asked, without turning.
"Because he's watching her dance with someone else… and still singing like he's the only one there," Noah said.
Katie bit the edge of her sleeve.
Owen's mouth was slightly open, almost hypnotized.
Izzy had stopped all her noises.
Even Heather… said nothing.
Gwen and Trent spun in a semicircle, synchronized feet.
She let him close.
He thought it was part of the act.
But what he felt as chemistry… Gwen used as translation for something else.
The weight of an absence.
The pressure of an unspoken emotion.
A dance… that wasn't with him.
"I'm in the superficial now…" Cody sang, that final note slicing through the stillness like an unexpected sigh.
And the world stopped for a second.
Gwen turned, ending up face-to-face with Trent, just centimeters apart.
And Trent, thinking he read the moment… leaned in.
He looked at her lips.
His hands moved slightly toward her waist.
And the step… became an attempt.
An attempt at a kiss.
Gwen didn't flinch.
She didn't pull away abruptly.
She simply raised her hand, firm and gentle at once, and placed her fingers on Trent's lips before he crossed the line.
—No, Gwen said softly.
But clearly.
Without aggression.
Trent looked at her, confused.
His eyebrows lifted.
Not offended.
Just surprised.
A quiet kind of hurt.
"I already have someone special," Gwen said.
Just that.
And she stepped back.
The music was still playing.
Cody was barely releasing the final syllables, the echo of the last verse hovering over the clearing with spectral slowness.
Gwen turned.
She didn't run.
She just walked.
Firm.
Certain.
And each step… took her to him.
Cody, seeing her approach, lowered the microphone.
He said nothing.
He simply stood.
Slowly.
Almost reverently.
Gwen stopped in front of him.
They looked at each other.
No words.
No jokes.
Cody offered a hand.
Gwen took it.
And together… they returned to their place.
No spectacle.
No announcement.
Just that.
A gesture.
And the whole camp understood.
—
The reaction was silent at first.
Then, a murmur among the girls.
"Did you see that?" Lindsay said, voice caught between laughter and tenderness.
"That… was a moment," Katie murmured.
"I want someone to sing to me like that," Beth said.
Heather rolled her eyes.
"And reject you in front of everyone after? Sure, sounds perfect," Heather said.
But even she seemed less acidic than usual.
Trent was left alone.
Not physically.
Just… quietly.
In the center.
He didn't look at Gwen.
Or Cody.
Just at the ground.
After a few seconds, he turned, without losing posture, and returned to his spot among the others.
No sins.
No resentment.
Just a slow sadness.
The kind that comes when you finally understand… that moment was never yours.
The silence after the ballad was long, but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of pause that needs no filler. As if the air still carried the melody in its particles. As if everyone knew that speaking immediately would disrespect what they'd just witnessed.
Cody and Gwen were seated again. Not holding hands anymore. But very close. Close enough that contact wasn't necessary.
Gwen had her knees together, shoulders relaxed, gaze forward. She didn't look tense… but not light either. What she'd just done wasn't impulse. It was choice. One of those made with the body before the mind.
Cody stared at a shapeless point, microphone still in hand, now resting on his knee. He didn't speak. He didn't smile. But he didn't seem like he wanted to escape either. That stillness that sometimes looks like serenity… and other times is just an effort not to stir what's already trembling inside.
Trent had sat a few meters away. Not too far. Just enough not to seem exiled, but enough to leave space. He rested his elbows on his knees, hands hanging forward. It wasn't defeat on his face… it was disappointment without drama. A gentle resignation. Like someone accepting that the song simply wasn't theirs.
From the group, reactions began to bloom in small doses.
Lindsay hugged her legs tightly and murmured to Beth:
"Did you notice how she held his gaze the whole time?" Lindsay said.
Beth stared wide-eyed.
"And how Cody sang… that wasn't acting," Beth said.
Katie leaned on Noah's shoulder.
"I'm no longer mad we got bachata. What Gwen had… was something else," she said.
Noah, still watching Cody, moved forward without words.
Then added quietly:
"This changes the tone of the tournament."
Heather, meanwhile, rested her chin on her hand.
"Honestly… a bit obvious, but effective," she said.
Courtney closed her notebook for the second time. Her lips were tight, but not angry. She watched silently, analyzing the field as if suddenly there was more than dance steps at stake.
Leshawna murmured to DJ:
"I thought he'd make a comment. Or a joke. But… he said nothing. And that gave me more than any verse," Leshawna said.
DJ crossed his arms.
"That was respect. And vulnerability. All at once," DJ said.
Izzy was upside down, swinging from a tree.
"I don't know if I want someone to sing to me like that or someone to stop me from kissing the person singing to me like that. CHAOTICALLY INTIMATE!" Izzy shouted.
Owen rubbed his chest with both hands.
"It hurt inside… and I don't know why," Owen said.
Geoff raised both hands.
"And now how do we keep dancing after THAT?" Geoff said.
Cody finally stood, slowly.
He brushed off his pants reflexively.
And turned to Gwen.
He said nothing. Just extended a hand to help her up.
She took it.
And again… without saying much more, they walked to the center.
He raised the microphone.
"Campers… thank you for the silence," Cody said. "And for not laughing. And for not speaking in the middle."
No one said anything.
And that, more than any applause… was a response.
Cody blushed, but not like before.
No false poses.
With gratitude.
"What comes next… might not be as intense. Might not be as real. But it still matters. Because rhythm… never stops. Even if the heart… lags a little behind," Cody said.
Owen raised the volume.
Geoff pressed the light button.
And the Box of Destiny… was back at the center.
But for everyone who saw it…
that last number wasn't "just another round."
It was the moment the camp understood that sometimes, feelings don't fit in rehearsals.
And when they enter… it's impossible to pretend they're not there.
While the rest of the camp continued processing what had just happened, Cody returned to his seat. The microphone rested on his knee, and his eyes remained fixed on a shapeless point in front of him.
Gwen, beside him, looked at him for the first time since sitting down.
No rush.
No anxiety.
Absolute clarity.
Without saying anything, she extended a hand and placed it over his.
Cody gently turned it to intertwine their fingers.
"You know we have to talk… about something important," Gwen murmured, without hesitation.
He looked at her.
No surprise.
No evasion.
And let out a small, tired laugh.
"Yes… yes we do," Cody said.
They stayed like that for one more second.
Then Gwen released his hand gently.
Cody stood, took a breath, and walked to the center.
The microphone was ready again.
The smile had returned.
Not the exaggerated one.
The one he wears when something hurts… but he still wants everyone to keep having fun.
And the competition, with all its emotional weight, began to spin again.