Hello to those reading this now.

So, this is an experiment. I'm planning on making it a DuncanxOC story, don't get me wrong, i like the DuncanxCortney stories, but i thought i'd try something different. plus, Courtney was fine in the first season, but she became crazy in TDA and TDWT, so i decided to pair Duncan with someone who wouldn't drive him to kiss Gwen.

It will follow the TDI episodes and the relationship between Duncan and the OC. Plus, it adds two new contestants, so there will be 24 competing teens and one double elimination.

Anyway, i hope you like it.

I could see the island coming up ahead, closer and closer. The wind whipped my hair off my face and I closed my eyes, breathing in the salty freshness. When I opened my eyes, the boat pulled up at the dock and I frowned. I could honestly say that I wasn't looking forward to this summer anymore. I glanced around the island with horrified eyes; what an ecological nightmare. I'm pretty sure I saw a seagull with plastic tied around its neck. Rubbish littered the beach and from the looks of it, inland wasn't much better. In fact, I wouldn't even call this place an "Island". More like "biohazard", or "waste dump". Or just plain "dump". Sighing, I grabbed my enormously large spotty duffle bag and went to get off the yacht. Chris McClain, the host, held up a hand to help me off. When I got off I placed my bag on the rotting wood of the dock. It made a thunk and I was surprised the wood didn't just give way.

"Thanks," I said.

"Everyone, this is Calypso."

"Callie," I automatically corrected. I preferred my nickname over my full name. Honestly, who names their child Calypso? I glanced around and grimaced, "Is it too late to go home?"

"Yes."

"Damn," I muttered.

I don't know how I felt about being announced to a bunch of stranger at whole when their own names weren't returned. It put me at a disadvantage and made me feel vulnerable. I looked over the other contestants quickly, not meeting anyone's eyes, and felt extremely nervous. Would they like me? But then I heard my track coach's voice in my head, telling me the same thing she told me at each training session, practice and sports lesson. No backing down. It didn't surprise me that it was my coach who I heard in my head, encouraging me. She had been my guiding light for a long time, always willing to help and push me further. In my worst years, she helped me through and she showed me my worth. Showed me that I was better. I would be indebted to her for ever.

I come from a rich family. I know what you're thinking. A rich family and she's had bad years? Poor little spoiled princess. I could see why you think that. I've never had to pay for anything myself, never had a proper job, never had to do laundry, never had to clean dishes. I've never been in want for anything material. But that's not the problem; my parents are. My parents aren't overbearing, or overprotective, or controlling, or demanding. They aren't paternal nor maternal. They are just…indifferent. Try living in my house for sixteen years and you'll understand. Sometimes I wonder if they even realize they have a daughter, or if they care. I'm ignored. And that hurts.

Which would explain why, in my younger years, I went off the rail. I couldn't understand why they didn't seem to care, why they never came to my soccer games, or school events. I watched my friends' parents worry about them, smearing sunscreen on their faces and picking them up when they fell over and all I could think of was how my own parents, who are supposed to love me, didn't do any of that. I wanted them to pay attention to me and the best way I could think to do that, was to get in trouble. Not serious trouble, but enough to get them called to my school and have them speak with the principal. So, I started fighting. Someone insulted me, I'd punch them in the face, someone bothered me, or irritated me, I pushed them over. I wasn't a bully; my actions were justified. I didn't pick on people; I only hit those who picked on me. When someone did something I thought was wrong, like pushing people over or calling them names, instead of telling them, I hit them. The first time, my dad came. He nodded as the principal spoke, expressing her disappointment and explaining how the school had a no violence standing, but his eyes were distant, like he was concentrating on something else. Like there was somewhere more important he had to be and he was running through his options. In the car ride home, he said nothing, driving way past the limit and dropping me off before going somewhere else. He didn't even look disappointed.

When I moved up to high school, things changed. I stopped trying to get their attention. And the coach was the person to help me do it. I went from being a hurt and sad child to being an accomplished teenager. I got stellar marks on my assessment pieces, often topping the class, I did tutoring jobs and babysitting jobs, helping out when others needed it. I joined the track team, discovering how much better I felt to channel my energy into something exhilarating. When I was running, nothing else mattered but my feet kissing the ground, and I could escape into a better world. And I got myself a best friend; Simon. He knew me better than anybody else. At school, I was the tough girl, but I was the nice girl. Simon called me the "Paradox"; frequently using oxymoron's to describe me, like toughly sweet.

Often, he said my looks were a contradiction to my personality, because I was soft looking. Round cheeks, kind smile, large eyes, button nose. I was unfairly short and petite, with curves Simon always pointed out to me. My hair was long, falling down my back in gentle waves and I was like an open book; you always knew what I was thinking. I was the kind of person you looked for in a room full of strangers to help you. In fact, he even says my personality is a contradiction of itself. I was tough, but kind, a smart-ass, but sweet, quiet, but could dish out an amazing verbal lashing. You never knew what to expect from me, and I liked it like that.

With a couple blinks, I brought myself back to the present. No backing down, I reminded myself. It would become my constant mantra, my sole phrase that would keep me on track. I let my lips lift up in what I knew was a winning smile with the perfect amount of friendliness and kindness without looking passive or submissive. I could totally do this. I'm tough and strong and I don't back down. I could sweet talk Eskimos into buying snow and I can put boys in their place faster than you can say 'mercy'.

I reached for my heavy bag that had to be about half my height but I was stopped by a skinny, gangly redhead, who I instantly pegged as a geek. "Milady," he said, half bowing. "Allow me." I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Dweeb," another boy said, pushing him over so he fell over. This new boy I could sum up in about two words. Bad ass. He was muscled, with multiple piercings and a green Mohawk on his head. My heart skipped a beat and I mentally cursed myself. Why did I insist upon liking guys who spelled danger and trouble? Why couldn't I like a nice guy, who would undoubtedly treat me well? Why did danger have to be so sexy?

The redhead got up and said, "Duncan, I got here first."

"You probably couldn't even lift it, loser," the bad boy said.

"I'm stronger than I look, gosh!" the red head said. I looked at his arms, which were skinnier than my own and just looked at him disbelievingly.

Duncan lifted the bag and groaned, "What do you have in here, princess? Bricks?"

"Let me carry it," the gangly boy said. Suddenly a very tall, very muscled, black guy came over.

"Guys," he said. "We shouldn't fight. If you can't decide who'll take it, let me."

"But I got here first! Duncan only wants to carry it because I do," he whined.

"You're such a dork," Duncan replied.

Then, as I was trying to figure out what the hell was going on, another guy walked over. He was blonde and had a laidback expression on his face. "Chill dudes, let me take the bag," he said. His voice was mellow.

And before I knew it, another guy in a red jumpsuit strutted over, his chest puffed out like a peacock. "I've got it. I've done wrestling, you know," he said to me.

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. It was just a bag, for Christ sakes! Enough was enough. "No, you know what? I'll carry my own bag. Believe it or not, this isn't the 16th century; I'm perfectly capable of carrying my own bag, thanks." And with that, I grabbed the straps and lifted it onto my shoulder, automatically weighed down with its weight. Maybe I did accidentally pack bricks instead of clothing. Oh, wait, no it's all the books I brought. Self-confessed bookworm right here.

I turned and walked down the down, close to the edge, but I didn't get far before I was stopped. A boy stood in front of me, in a green shirt and stylishly ripped jeans, obviously new. But that wasn't what I noticed first. No, what I noticed first was how pretty he was. Annoyingly so. Too bad I didn't like pretty boys, never had. In fact, I never trust a boy who uses more moisturizer than me. It just wasn't right.

I went to step around him, but he matched my sidestep, blocking me. I went back the other way but he did the same thing again. Clearly he wanted something, so I waited. When he said nothing, just stood there, his head tilted up slightly as if I was supposed to be admiring him. I wasn't. The only thing I admired was his astounding ability to annoy me in such a short period of time. My jaw twitched and I glanced over at the other contestants. My eyes met with a green pair belong to a blonde girl and a dark brown pair belonging to a girl dressed in dark clothing. They shrugged in an I-have-no-idea way.

I turned back to the pretty boy. "What?" I snapped.

He glanced at me, surprised, as if my response was unexpected. But he just shrugged it off. He smiled at me and I think I saw his teeth sparkle. "I'm giving you the opportunity to bask in my beauty personally," he said in a smooth voice, which only served to tick me off even more.

"Did I do something or say something that made you think I wanted you to block my progress of walking up this dock, which is in crappy condition, carrying this bag which I'm sure will break my back, on this particular day when I've found out I'm staying at a rundown, crappy island where I'll probably contract some sort of disease that will kill me slowly and painfully, which, by the way, is also very crappy? Because if so, let me clear it up for you," I said, as I pulled back my fist and slammed it into his perfectly structured jaw. He cried out as he fell backwards, off the dock and into the water. Now unhindered, I walked the rest of the way down the dock and placed my bag down with a relieved sigh. Okay, so sometimes, I couldn't help myself, I just had to hit him. He was practically asking for it.

Duncan was laughing, wiping tears from his eyes, "Nice right hook," he gasped out as pretty boy came back to the surface, howling in pain.

"My jaw! My perfectly formed jaw! My flawless skin!" I rolled my eyes.

"Wow," the blonde girl beside me said. I smiled at her temporarily stunned expression. "Uh, hi. I'm Bridget."

"Callie," I said, even though she probably already heard Chris say it.

"That was…" she trailed off.

"A momentary lapse in judgment," I told her.

"A pretty cool momentary lapse in judgment. Where'd you learn to punch like that?" the girl dressed as a Goth said on my other side. Her skin was pale, similar to mine, but mine was more of an ivory colour, while her's looked like it had never seen the sun before.

"Middle school," I said dryly.

She nodded, "I'm Gwen."

"Nice to meet you both," I said, just as another boat pulled up and a girl with red hair jumped of the boat, hit her chin and fell into the water.

"Oh, my God," I said, my eyes widening as she didn't resurface immediately. I ran forward, as did another girl with caramel skin.

"Shouldn't somebody help her?" she asked, as we looked down into the water. Luckily though, she was up on the dock in another second, shaking off water.

"Wow, that was…totally cool. Well, not the hitting my chin part. Is this where we're staying? And when is lunch?" she asked, in a rush. I looked at her weirdly. Was she crazy?

"That is a good question," a blonde, very large boy said, pointing at the girl Chris introduced as Izzy.

"First things first; the group photo. Everyone at the end of the dock," Chris called, and we shuffled down to where he instructed. We gathered there as he pointed the camera at us. I sat next to Bridget, crossing my legs and leaning back on my hands. "Okay, one, two, three-oops. Forgot the lens cap," he called to us. Posed smiles dropped as we waited. "Okay, hold that pose. One, two-oh, no wait. Cards full," he said. My smile dropped as I became vaguely annoyed. "Hang on."

"Come on man, my face is starting to freeze," a girl called from behind me.

"Got it, okay, everyone say 'Wawanakwa'," Chris said, aiming the photo.

"Wawanakwa," we chorused back, just as the dock started to groan and collapsed.

I hit the water with a splash, going completely under. I came back up, spluttering and laughing. I wasn't surprised the wreck of a dock collapsed. It was probably rotten all the way through.

"Okay guys, dry off and meet at the campfire pit in ten," Chris said, leaving us. I swam over to the intact section of the dock and hoisted myself up, walking over to my bag and rummaging around until I found a towel. I quickly dried myself as much as possible, standing there in the sun, letting the warmth dry my soaked clothing. At about ten minutes, I grabbed my bag, Bridget beside me doing the same and we walked to the campfire pit.

"You surf?" I asked, seeing her surfboard tucked under her arm.

"Yeah, do you?"

"Nope. Never tried," I told her.

"That's a shame. I love surfing," she smiled.

"Well, you'll have to teach me," I said and she smiled again.

"Okay. Cool."

I dropped my bag and we gathered at the fire pit, some sitting on log-seats, some standing.

"This is camp Wawanakwa," Chris said. "Your home for the next eight weeks. The campers sitting around you will be your cabin mates, your competition, and maybe even your friends. You dig? The camper who manages to stay on the island the longest without getting voted off will win one hundred thousand dollars."

"Excuse me," Duncan said. "What will the sleeping arrangements be? Because I'd like to request a bunk under her." I glanced at him and saw he was pointing at me.

"I don't think so," I said.

"They're not co-ed, are they?" an Asian girl asked.

"No, girls get one side of the cabin, and guys get the other."

"Uh, excuse me, Kyle?" a girl with platinum blonde hair asked. Her voice was high and airy. "Can I have a cabin with a lake view since I'm the prettiest?"

"Okay, you are, but that's not really how it works here. And, it's Chris," he said, stressing his name.

"I have to live with Sadie, or I'll die," a girl said, clasping hands with a larger girl wearing exactly the same outfit.

"And I'll break out in hives," the larger girl said. "It's true."

Behind me, I heard Gwen say, "This can not be happening." Followed by a "Aw, come on guys, it'll be fun. It's like a big sleepover."

"Here's the deal, we're gunna split you into two teams. If I call your name out, go stand over there," he said, pointing to his right. "Gwen, Trent, Heather, Cody, Lindsay, Beth, Katie, Owen, Justin, Leshawna, Issac and Noah. From this moment on, you are officially known as the 'Screaming Gophers'" he said, throwing them a green banner with a gopher on a red circle in the middle.

"Yeah! I'm a gopher! Woohoo!" Owen yelled.

"Wait, what about Sadie?" Katie asked, looking worried.

"The rest of you, over here," he pointed to his left. "Geoff, Bridget, Callie, DJ, Tyler, Sadie, Izzy, Courtney, Ezekiel, Duncan, Eva and Harold." When he called my name, I walked over to join Bridget and our team slowly grew. "Move, move, move!"

"But Katie's a gopher. I have to be a gopher!" Sadie wailed.

"Sadie, is it?" Courtney asked. "Come on, it'll be okay."

"This is so unfair. I miss you Katie!" she called.

"I miss you too," Katie called.

"You guys will officially be known as, 'the Killer Bass'," Chris said, throwing a red banner with a fish in a green circle in the middle; it was the opposite of the gophers.

I sighed. "Great, I'm a fish."

"It's awesome, it's like…amazing," Harold said.

"Alright campers, you and your team will be on camera in all public areas during this competition. You will also be able to share your innermost thoughts on tape with video diaries anytime you want. Let the audience at home know what you're really thinking or just get something off your chest. Alright, any questions? Cool. Let's find your cabins," Chris walked off and we followed behind, carrying our bags. "Gopher you're in the east cabin, bass you're in the west." He gestured for us to move, so we did, heading for our respective cabins. I walked up the creaky wooden steps and hoped the floorboards wouldn't give out. Bridget walked right behind me and Geoff walked to the left side, which clearly was the boys side.

"Uh, excuse me Chris. Is there a chaperone of any kind in this facility?" Geoff asked.

"You're all sixteen years old, as old as a counsellor-in-training at a regular summer camp, so, other than myself, you're unsupervised. You've got half an hour to unpack and meet me back at the main lodge. Starting now," he said, looking at his watch before walking off.

"Nice," Geoff said, just as we heard a high-pitched scream come from the east cabin. We hurried over there, wondering what was going on.

"Oh, man, that white girl can scream," Leshawna said. Lindsay was standing on a stool in the middle of the room as a cockroach scuttled around.

"What is it? What is it?" she cried.

DJ suddenly gasped and screamed, jumping on the nearest bed and promptly breaking it.

"That was my bed," Gwen said. The cockroach scuttled about and people started screaming, and Harold and Leshawna started stomping, trying to kill it. it was mayhem and girls climbed onto the top bunks until Duncan came along with an axe-where did he even get that- and went to kill it.

"Don't," I shouted at him. "Don't kill it, just take it outside and let it go." He looked at me for a moment before grinning evilly and raising the axe before bringing it down on the roach.

"Well, that's one way to kill a cockroach," Gwen said.

"Awesome," Harold said, locking down at the headless bugs. My face scrunched up in disgust.

"If you ever see one of those again, just let me know, 'kay? 'Cuz, you know, I could do that too," Tyler said to Lindsay, puffing his chest out. I rolled my eyes, wasn't he one of the people screaming? But Lindsay smiled at him.

"Pfft, they always go for the jocks," Duncan said, swinging the axe onto his shoulder and walking out. I shook my head and walked out, going back to my own cabin. Ahead, Duncan turned around and winked at me. I glared, making my annoyance known. Jerk. I walked into the girls section and picked the top bunk of the bunk bed closest to the window. When Bridget walked in, I waved her over.

"Wanna share?" I asked her.

"Sure," she smiled.

"You want top bunk or bottom bunk?" I asked.

"Bottom."

"Good," I grinned. "Because I want the top one." I unpacked my stuff, placing it in my draw and placing my pillow on my bed. I lay back as I waited for the rest of the half hour to pass before we had to go to the main area.

I wonder what Chris had planned.

So, what did you think?

I don't know if i'll continue this, so i put it to you. Do you want to read more? Or should i just stop?