DODGING THE BULLET
A TOTAL DRAMA ISLAND STORY
A/N: Hey, Chicago here, again. Lately, Total Drama Island is my obsession. I breathe, think, eat, and sleep it. Not to be taken lightly, it's literally my life. So you're not done with me yet after this, trust me.
If you like vampire stories like Twilight, I suggest you read this short story published online called True Hospitality by Jacqueline Lichtenberg: /writers/luren/truehospitality.html.
Some sexual themes, I warn you. If you can't handle that…
The plot begins now. Summary: I have decided to have Courtney have that creepy chase-for-her-life in this chapter, and a bit more…hint, hint…
Is it even possible for chapters to suck as much as mine do?
CHICAGO718
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CHAPTER ELEVEN: WIND, WATER, ICE, BLOOD
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After a rather hellish week in high school, Courtney was sitting in the giant oak in her backyard, kicking her foot against its substantial trunk, feeling the bark scratch into her bare feet. It was a nice, near-to-summer day. The leaves on the trees were browning and crinkling within themselves, but some were still the soft, smooth green.
Her mind was elsewhere. She thought about herself. It was unlike her. She was not governed by her hormones, nor was she threatened by coerce. Either Duncan was a pretentious sycophant, or she was a hopeless pushover. She was leaning toward the second one.
I might actually be falling for him, she thought. And if not, I might be in the biggest denial in the history of history.
It isn't denial though! She insisted back, arguing with herself. If I honestly don't like him, it can't be denial!
It's denial. The devil sounded too smug.
Whatever. She brushed away her thoughts, hopping agilely down from the branch on both feet.
When she got inside, the phone in her room was ringing. She picked it up, hoping for Bridgette. Maybe she could get herself out of prom.
No. It was a male voice. "Hello?" Courtney said cautiously, prepared to slam down the phone in case it was a killer.
"It's Duncan," the guy answered.
"Oh," she squeaked, her voice suddenly breaking.
"Me and the guys have a baseball thing tonight at, uh…seven. Want to come?" he asked, level as ever.
Courtney raised her eyebrows. "You play?"
"Sure," he said. "So?"
She looked back at her calendar. "Is Bridgette going to be there?"
There was a loud female giggle and the sound of Geoff's voice in the background. "Uh, yeah."
She sighed. "Fine, then."
She hung up, massaging her temples. Her life was stressful, that was for sure.
Around six forty-five Courtney came down the stairs in a long-sleeve gray-green flannel shirt and jeans. It was raining lightly, pattering against the windowsill and heavier against the front door. She clutched her gray raincoat around her tighter.
At seven on the dot the door rang. She checked her watch. So he was a perv, but a punctual perv.
He was standing at the door, soaked through, though somehow his Mohawk was still standing erect on his head. She looked around him. A huge black truck with tires to her waist was rumbling in the driveway.
"Do you know how much gas that thing guzzles up?" Courtney cried, sounding like Bridgette.
"Oh relax, princess. It's just for here and back. Even Bridgette agreed to it."
Ugh. She walked out to the car, opening the passenger seat and was immediately greeted by the sounds of laughing and soft guitar music, clashing with the heavy rock coming from the radio. She got in anyway. Bridgette was sitting in Geoff's lap, her legs wrapped around him, pinning his back to the seat and kissing him heavily. She took a breath for a second to say hello, and was immediately pulled down by Geoff again. Gwen's knees were to her chest, she was staring out the window with her sketchpad and a pencil. Trent was staring hard at his guitar, mouthing words to himself, trying them out, and holding Gwen's hand at the same time.
She almost smiled. It was romantic, for sure. She wondered if she and Duncan were like that. Right. Yeah. Maybe never.
Duncan started the car, staring at Courtney the whole time. As soon as he turned the key in, the whole car growled, rumbling loudly over the din of music.
The whole ride wasn't much for conversation, as all of them except Duncan were bouncing up and down like a jackhammer. Gwen gave up drawing.
"Uh…slow down, please?" Courtney said over the radio, her words marred by the bounces and bursts of music.
He ignored her. Typical delinquent. He just grinned. She hadn't realized how attractive his smile was till now.
All of a sudden Duncan stepped on the brakes and the car screeched to a stop with a squeal of tired skidding across the wet asphalt. Courtney was thrown into her seatbelt, face inches from the airbag holder.
"We're here," was all he said, not repentant in the slightest.
Courtney looked out the window. They were parked on some sort of ledge. Beneath the ledge, rocks were jutting out in the form of steps. They were steep, and thin.
"Where's the field?"
Duncan smirked. "Uh, down there."
He pointed. All the way down, like, two hundred steps, was a square drawn in white paint, and white rubber pentagons to mark off the bases.
"Down there?" Once again, her voice pitched higher at the end. She cleared her throat.
The four others in the car looked at her curiously.
"Go on ahead, okay?" he told the teens in the backseat. "I'll get her."
"What?" Courtney made the cut-throat motion to Bridgette, as in, Don't leave me. Bridgette grinned half-apologetically, but she got out of the car and started down the ledge, Geoff in hand.
She eased out of the car herself, promising herself she would never go down there, no matter how Duncan would try. She looked down it. It seemed steeper. She felt woozy, swaying slightly on the spot, but she got hold of herself before Duncan could spot anything.
"Problem, darling?"
"Yes. You didn't tell me we'd have to walk down this! I could…die…"
"That's stupid. I'm catch you if you fall or whatever."
Courtney snorted. "Like that really makes me feel so much better."
"Why not?" Duncan was in front of her. When did he get there? When did the ledge get so far away? Why was her back against something hard? Her leg touched something rubbery, a tire. Her back was against the car. How had it gotten there?
"Hey," Courtney complained, struggling as he set his hands on either side of her head, resting them against the car and pinning her back to the truck.
"You were saying?" he drawled, pressing his lips to her neck and talking against it.
Courtney blinked rapidly. She suddenly couldn't remember what she was worried about, only Duncan's lips at her neck. "Uh…falling down and hitting my head on a rock. And dying."
His lips moved higher on her neck, just beneath her jaw. "And now?"
She struggled, her shoulders trying to shove him away. "Falling down and hitting my head."
His lips pressed against the side of her mouth. "Now?"
"Falling." Courtney felt her breath go unsteady. She felt her warm breath bouncing back at her.
His hand grazed her neck, his lips moving purposefully against the side of her mouth, only more centered now. "Now what are you afraid of?"
"Uh…uh…" she scrambled, stuttering.
"I thought so." He hungrily moved his lips to fully take over hers, overpowering her with his lips and his body. His tongue, his hands near her, she almost groaned, but she kept it to herself. He tasted cold, like mint. He seemed almost icy against her, her arms tucked in at her sides and stuck between their bodies, which were tightly intertwined together, thanks to Duncan.
As suddenly as he started, he pulled away. "So go down."
She looked at him with what she hoped was utter bitterness, but she put her foot on the first rock. It was surprisingly steady. She took another cautious step, making sure her foot was centered before she put her weight upon it.
Soon she was settled at the bottom, Duncan following closely.
"Wasn't so hard, was it?" he asked cockily.
"Whatever." She turned around. The white square was bigger, and besides Duncan, Trent, and Geoff, there was Tyler, DJ, Cody (who was cracking his knuckles 'menacingly'), Noah, who was sitting in the outfield reading a book, and Owen who was dancing around the bases with no shirt. She shuddered slightly. "Have fun. Go team!"
He snickered at her slightly, running into the outfield with a mitt.
She rolled her eyes slightly, but smiled to herself, and went to sit next to Gwen.
She turned to Bridgette. "So you finally let go of Geoff? You were hanging onto him like a vice."
Bridgette flushed. "He's really cool." She grew defensive. "Besides, I'm not the only one here with a guy. Look at Gwen—" she pointed. Gwen was flipped to the picture of Trent she had drawn that long time ago, and was drawing hearts around it. "—she's cool with Trent and not in denial like you."
Courtney reddened too. "He's okay, okay?"
Bridgette made a face. "Whatever you like." Her voice switched to contrite. "And, uh, Courtney, I'm really sorry. I need the black dress back. My aunt said if I didn't want it, she wanted it for my cousin."
Courtney looked at her. "So what will I wear?"
Bridgette looked at her hands. "I don't know. I'm sorry. If you don't want to go to prom, you don't have to, I guess."
Frowning, Courtney turned her eyes to her lap. She had begun to actually look forward to prom.
She watched Duncan hit one and round to third base.
All of a sudden, a huge crack from the field snapped Courtney's head up. Trent had hit a huge home run. Gwen smiled. Geoff set off into the woods to find the ball. Bridgette looked anxiously after him.
After a few minutes, Geoff returned, with the ball in hand. But he was pale, white as a sheet. He was shoved by an unseen force further into the field. Courtney studied the woods behind him.
Five guys emerged from the darkness, all similar to Duncan in looks with their piercings and snake tattoos and dyed hair. They silently were lined up, from a big, brawny guy in the middle ranging to a skinny but muscular, lanky one at the end of the line.
Courtney wracked her brain and remembered Mount Shasta. The 'gang'. The stalkers, the psychos.
She looked at them. One looked back at her, his coal-black eyes narrowing and glittering dangerously.
It was them. Her blood felt like ice, the wind wracking her cold bones, freezing water filling up any parts of her that were warm.
Wind, water, ice, and blood. It was a perfect combination.
Sorry it's a little short. I wanted to leave you on the edge. I live for that. Ha.
And how gay am I, like seriously? I hated the dialogue in this chapter, it was too abrupt and stuff.
Oh, and the dress thing will all tie in at the end, don't worry—I wanted to describe the dress (a different one mind you) in greater detail.
Don't be surprised if the next chapter totally and utterly sucks. I am so bad with conveying fear to the readers. Like the chase for their lives, you know? I cannot write fear or sadness or anger. That's just the way I am.