Rest For the Wicked

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"The first rule of dodgeball is..."

I kept a straight face and spat "Don't talk about dodgeball?"

Everyone around me laughed. Owen must've found it especially funny, because he erupted so hard he nearly shit his pants. Anyway, dodgeball was not something I was into. I can debate the pants off anyone, I can run an entire school election and office, but dodgeball? Nu uh honey. Not happening. Noah don't do dogdeball, or any sports for that matter.

"Anyone wanna volunteer to sit out with sleeping beauty on the bench?" Heather bossed. I had to take this opportunity.

"Fine!" I smirked "I'll do it"

I sat down on the bench next to a very tired Gwen and opened one of my few precious unread books. Thus, I have no idea what is happening on the court. But they didn't need to know that, so I made crude, mostly sarcastic attempts to look like I was paying attention.

"Knock em out, throw em out, rah rah" I half-heartedly chant, not once looking up from the book. This earned me a nice dodgeball to the face, by an unknown member of my team. Probably Gwen or Heather. Both those girls are Grade-A bitches, so I guess it doesn't matter which one it was. I sent my glare in the general direction of my team and continued to read, doing my best to ignore the whole sports commotion going on.


So turns out my oh-so lucky team lost the challenge so we get to go down to the fire and get rid of someone. My vote is on Lindsay. I swear I lose a brain cell every time I talk to that blond rock.

Yeah, well the rest of my lovely team decided I was the expendable one. As if.

"You just voted off the only one with any brains around here" I shrugged. Chef Hatchet, the guy making all these Grade-A meals around here, dumped my two bags at the end of the dock. It probably would be easier for me to leave this dump if I wasn't getting pelted with marshmallows. Good job guys, marshmallows, real painful I assure you. I get on the motor boat as unenthusiasticly as I did when I got here, and let the piece of junk take me who knows where.

As much as I hope that I'm being zoomed off to the nearest airport so I can go home where there is solitude, cable TV, digestible meals, and unlimited books, of course I'm taken to an island that's decked out in fake-ass palm trees and such.

Turns out this is where Mr. Haircut sends the losers after they're gone. Admittedly, it's a step up from "trashy summer camp", but it's not quite "vacation resort".

Once I'm checked into a room, I get to have my own piece and quiet, which is a luxury I haven't had since I sold my soul to reality TV.

The rooms were acceptable for my own pretentious needs. There were two rooms in it. A living room, that was empty with the exception of a television hooked to the wall, a couch opposite the TV, and a desk table next to that.

In the bedroom, there was a nice beach house style bed with a night table beside it, and a shorter table at the end of the bed.

I put my suitcases on the shorter table and immediately went to hunt down the bathrooms.

Lucky for me, the bathrooms were as communal as they were back on the island, except these ones are actually clean. Connected to them was a shower house with nothing but a ugly green curtain separating the outside world with one's naked body.

After I did my business, I went back to my room and turned on the TV. And you know what I saw?

The freaking promos for Total Drama Island, like it was the first thing I wanted to see now that I'm off that sucky island. Nu-uh honey, not today.

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