Chapter 64 – Day of Rest 8 (Part 2)
The dining hall began to fill like every morning, but this time the atmosphere felt different. Maybe it was the aroma of freshly made breakfast, or the sun streaming more strongly through the windows, or simply the fact that everyone had survived a day that seemed pulled from an action-drama movie.
Campers entered in groups, some still half-asleep, others already joking as if the day had been running for hours. The tables filled little by little, and the murmurs blended with the clatter of plates and cutlery.
Cody walked in calmly, still carrying the folded apron under his arm. He had helped the Chef since early morning, and though he didn't say it aloud, he felt proud of the breakfast everyone was now enjoying.
At one of the long tables, the Gophers were already gathering. Owen was in his classic festive mode, making trumpet sounds with his mouth every time someone sat down. Noah flipped through a notebook as if taking notes for a book he'd never write. Gwen was already there, an empty cup in front of her, watching the steam rise from the plates with a serene expression.
Cody approached, smiling.
"Is this seat reserved for stylish heroes?" Cody asked, pointing to the spot beside Gwen.
"Only if they bring coffee," Gwen replied, without looking at him, but with a smile escaping at the corner of her lips.
Cody sat, draping the apron over the chair back. Then he stood again, walked to the counter, and with stealthy movements, took a special cup the Chef had left for himself. It was darker, more aromatic, with that touch only he knew how to prepare.
"Are you stealing the Chef's coffee?" Noah asked, without lifting his gaze.
"I'm redistributing emotional resources," Cody said solemnly.
"Breakfast Robin Hood!" Owen shouted, raising his fork like a sword.
Cody returned to the table and placed the cup in front of Gwen, with both hands, as if offering a treasure.
"For you. The best coffee in camp. Stolen with style. Served with intention," Cody said.
Gwen looked at him. Not surprised. Something deeper. As if she understood it wasn't just coffee. It was a gesture. Care. Presence.
"And what do you want in return?" Gwen asked, taking the cup.
"Just to see you smile. Though if there are rewards… I won't complain," Cody said, with a crooked grin.
Gwen took a sip. Closed her eyes. Breathed deeply.
"It's perfect," Gwen said.
And then, without warning, she leaned in and kissed him on the lips. Not long. Not loud. But clear. Warm. Enough for Owen to let out a "Uuuuuuh!" that echoed through the dining hall.
Cody stayed still, smile frozen on his face, eyes still closed as if wanting to keep the moment in memory.
"Was that for the coffee or the compliment?" Cody asked, opening his eyes.
"For both. And for being you," Gwen said, taking another sip.
Noah finally looked up. "Can I note this down as 'key moment in the romantic narrative'?"
"Only if you draw it with style," Cody said.
Owen began pounding the table like a celebratory drum.
The other Gophers joined in little by little, and the table filled with laughter, jokes, and shared plates. But amid all that noise, Cody and Gwen remained in their small space, speaking softly, sharing coffee, letting the day begin with more than food.
With connection.
With reward.
With style.
The dining hall was at peak activity. The aroma of breakfast floated in the air like a collective enchantment. Eggs, toast, coffee, fruit, and that secret touch from the Chef no one could decipher but everyone appreciated. The tables were full, voices crossed the room like bolts of energy, and the day, though barely begun, already seemed alive.
At one of the long tables—the Gophers'—chaos reigned. But not chaos of broken plates or real arguments. It was the chaos of unleashed imagination. Of passion for the absurd. Of the magical war that had erupted among four campers who, for some reason, decided breakfast was the perfect time to debate which Hogwarts house was best.
Cody sat between Gwen and Noah, with Owen across from him and Izzy diagonal. All had their plates served, cups full, and arguments sharpened like wands.
"Slytherin is the only house with real vision!" Cody said, raising his fork like a wand. "Ambition, strategy, leadership. What more do you want?"
"Manipulation, arrogance, and snakes!" Izzy shot back, pointing at him with her spoon. "Gryffindor is pure courage! Action! Fire! Lions! Explosions!"
"Explosions aren't a value," Noah said firmly, without raising his voice. "Ravenclaw is wisdom. Creativity. Logic. The kind of house that doesn't fight bears without thinking."
"Hufflepuff is the house of the heart!" Owen shouted, pounding the table enthusiastically. "Loyalty, hard work, friendship. And they have the best breakfast! I say so!"
Cody turned to Gwen, grinning. "Are you hearing this? How can anyone defend Hufflepuff with food arguments?"
Gwen shrugged, laughing. "Owen has a point. If breakfast were a competition, Hufflepuff would win."
"Thank you, Gwen!" Owen shouted, raising his cup like a toast.
But Cody didn't give up. He turned to Izzy, pointing his fork.
"Avada Kedavra!" Cody said gravely.
Izzy pretended to take the hit, falling back in her chair with exaggerated drama. "Nooo! My bravery didn't protect me!"
Owen stood, pointing at Cody. "That's illegal! You're using dark magic at breakfast!"
"Slytherin doesn't ask permission!" Cody said, turning the fork toward Owen. "Avada!"
Owen shielded himself with his napkin like a magical barrier. "Protect the breakfast!"
Gwen laughed uncontrollably. Not mocking. The kind of laugh that comes when you see someone you love being completely themselves. Cody was in his element: exaggerated, theatrical, charming. And she watched him as if every gesture were a note in a song only they shared.
Meanwhile, Noah remained firm.
"This is ridiculous. Everyone knows Ravenclaw has the best wizards. The smartest. The most prepared. The ones who don't cast spells with cutlery."
"Intelligence is useless if you don't have style!" Cody said, turning his fork toward Noah. "Avada logic!"
Noah raised his notebook like a grimoire. "Counterspell! Academic citation!"
Izzy rose again, pretending to resurrect. "Gryffindor revives! With fire and drama!"
Owen began singing something that sounded like the Hufflepuff anthem, though no one knew if such a thing existed.
Cody turned to Gwen, lowering his fork.
"And you? Aren't you going to defend a house?" Cody asked.
Gwen sipped her coffee, looking at him calmly.
"I'm just defending my right to laugh at you," Gwen said.
Cody leaned toward her, mischievous smile.
"Even when I cast curses with cutlery?" Cody asked.
"Especially when you do that," Gwen said.
And then, without anyone expecting it, Gwen kissed him. Not stolen. Clear, firm, on the lips, as if saying "yes, you're a mess, but you're my mess."
Owen shouted. "That was couple's magic!"
Izzy clapped. "Gryffindor proves romance!"
Noah scribbled something in his notebook. "This goes straight into the chapter on 'affective dynamics in competitive environments.'"
Cody stayed still for a second, savoring the coffee, the kiss, and the chaos.
"You know what?" Cody said, raising his fork once more. "Slytherin doesn't need to win. It just needs to leave a mark."
"And you did," Gwen said, laughing.
The debate continued. They shifted from houses to spells, from spells to magical creatures, from creatures to which character each would be. Owen insisted he was clearly a cross between Hagrid and a pumpkin pie. Izzy claimed she was Tonks on steroids. Noah declared himself a mix of Luna Lovegood and Snape, which caused immediate confusion.
Cody, of course, declared himself Draco with Harry's heart.
"That doesn't exist!" Izzy shouted.
"That's why I'm unique!" Cody replied.
Gwen just looked at him. With that mix of tenderness and disbelief you only feel for someone who makes you laugh even when the world is on fire.
And so, between imaginary spells, stolen coffee, sincere kisses, and absurd arguments, breakfast became a scene worthy of Hogwarts. Not for real magic. But for the magic that happens when people allow themselves to play, to love, and to be seen.
---
While the Gophers' table was ruled by the charming chaos of imaginary spells and stolen kisses, the Bass table was another story. More contained. Colder. More tactical.
The plates were served, the coffee poured, but the words weren't soft. They were blades wrapped in courtesy.
Courtney sat at the center, as if the spot belonged to her by right. Beside her, Duncan ate with the calm of someone who knows conflict is coming and has no hurry to avoid it. Across from them, Bridgette stirred her fruit absentmindedly, DJ ate in silence, and Harold flipped through a notebook full of notes no one else understood.
"We need to organize," Courtney said bluntly, setting her fork down as if marking the start of a meeting.
Duncan raised an eyebrow, still chewing. "Organize for what? Is there another challenge already?"
"We don't know. But if we wait to be surprised, we'll lose. We need structure. Roles. Strategy," Courtney said firmly.
Bridgette looked at her curiously. "Isn't it a little early for that? We're barely digesting breakfast."
"Exactly. The team that prepares before the challenge begins is the one that wins," Courtney said.
Harold nodded, though without enthusiasm. "Makes sense. Anticipation is key in any competitive system."
Duncan let out a dry laugh. "Since when is this a leadership class?"
"Since some prefer improvising and others prefer winning," Courtney said, staring at Duncan with intent.
DJ shrugged. "I just don't want to get yelled at again. The last challenge was chaos."
"And it was chaos because no one took command," Courtney said.
"So you want to be the leader?" Bridgette asked.
"I don't want to. I am," Courtney said.
Duncan set his fork down. "And who decided that? Your ego?"
Courtney didn't blink. "Logic decided. I've been the most consistent. The most focused. The one who doesn't get distracted by jokes or bad tattoos."
Harold chimed in. "Technically, having a leader can improve group efficiency. But only if there's consensus."
"Thank you, Harold," Courtney said, with a smile that wasn't entirely kind.
Duncan leaned toward her. "And what happens if your strategy fails? You blame everyone but yourself?"
"No. I take responsibility. But I also expect everyone to do their part," Courtney said.
Bridgette shifted in her chair. "And what would my part be?"
Courtney straightened. "You handle the physical side. DJ the brute strength. Harold the analysis. Duncan the execution. Me the coordination."
Duncan laughed. "Execution? What am I, your soldier?"
"You're part of the team. And if you can't work in a team, then you're playing alone," Courtney said.
DJ reached for more coffee. "I don't want to fight. But I don't want this to turn into a dictatorship either."
Harold scribbled in his notebook. "I suggest rotating leadership. Each challenge, someone different."
Courtney frowned. "Sounds good in theory. But in practice, someone has to make quick decisions."
Bridgette spoke up. "Maybe what we need isn't a leader. But a way to decide together. Without everything depending on one voice."
Duncan stood, picking up his cup. "Then decide yourself. But don't expect everyone to follow without thinking."
Courtney followed him with her eyes. "I don't want followers. I want allies. But if you can't tell the difference, then yes, better step aside."
The table fell silent for a moment.
DJ ate peacefully, as if the conflict wasn't his. Bridgette looked around, as if balance depended on her. Harold kept writing, and Duncan walked away with his cup, not looking back.
And Courtney… Courtney stayed there, firm, back straight, eyes fixed on the center of the table. As if already planning her next move.
The dining hall began to empty. Plates were cleared, cups half-drained, and the morning bustle turned into scattered murmurs. Each camper went their own way: some to the forest, others to the cabins, others simply to lose themselves in the sun.
Cody stretched in his chair, letting out a satisfied sigh. Breakfast had been a success, the stolen coffee worth it, and Gwen's kiss still burned sweetly on his lips like a note he didn't want to erase.
Gwen rose calmly, picking up her cup and turning to him.
"Want to do something?" she asked, her voice offering, not pressing.
Cody looked at her, still half-reclined in his chair, hair slightly tousled from the morning.
"I think I'll go to the sea," Cody said. "Walk a bit. Get my feet wet. Think about things that don't have names."
Gwen smiled faintly. "Sounds good. Very you."
"And you?" Cody asked.
"I'm going with Leshawna. We've got things to do. Girl things. Things you don't explain," Gwen said, with a mysterious smile.
Cody stood, stepping closer.
"Will you miss me?" Cody asked playfully.
"A little. But if the sea improves your mood, it's worth it," Gwen said.
Cody kissed her forehead, soft, unhurried.
"See you later," Cody said.
"See you," Gwen replied.
And so, without drama, without exaggerated promises, each went their way. Gwen walked off with Leshawna, speaking softly, laughing at something Cody couldn't hear. And he… he walked toward the sea, shoes in hand, sun on his back, mind open like the horizon.
Breakfast was over, and campers began to scatter across camp. Some headed to the cabins, others to the forest, and a few simply sought shade. Cody left the dining hall with a light step, still full of energy and the taste of coffee in his mouth. A few meters away, he saw Bridgette walking calmly, eyes on the clear sky.
He approached with that smile that had become part of his uniform.
"Hey, Bridgette," Cody said, catching her just before she turned toward her cabin.
She looked at him, smiling. "What's up?"
"Up for surfing again?" Cody asked casually. "Owen and Noah are already in 'wave god' mode. It's officially tradition."
Bridgette laughed. "Are they making human waves again?"
"Of course. Owen's already in his swimsuit shouting things like 'The ocean needs me!' For ten minutes now, Noah's been pushing water with a board like it's some ritual. This isn't improvisation anymore, it's ceremony," Cody said.
"And you?" Bridgette asked.
"I'm the chosen one. The sea god spoke to me this morning while I brushed my teeth. He said: 'Cody, today is surf day. Bring Bridgette. And don't forget your sunscreen,'" Cody said, with mock solemnity.
Bridgette crossed her arms. "And if the sea god tells me to stay on the sand?"
"Then the sea god's wrong. And needs you to remind him how surfing's done," Cody said.
She laughed. "Alright. Give me five minutes. I'll grab my suit and board."
"Me too. See you at the shore," Cody said, already heading to his cabin.
Minutes later, both walked out with boards on their shoulders, heading down the path to the beach. The sun was just right, and the wind had that fresh touch promising a good time in the water.
Owen was already there, feet in the sea, arms spread as if summoning a storm.
"Prepare for Owen's roar!" he shouted, running along the shore with wild enthusiasm.
Noah was a few meters away, pushing water with a board like part of a ritual he didn't fully understand.
"This is officially stupid," Noah said flatly. "But I'm here anyway."
Bridgette set her board on the sand and turned to Cody. "Ready for chaos?"
"Always. The sea god already blessed me with emotional balance. The rest is technique," Cody said.
They entered the water. Bridgette with fluid movements, Cody with enthusiasm and zero fear of ridicule. Owen ran along the shore, creating waves with his body. Noah pushed water with unnecessary precision.
The waves weren't perfect, but they were enough. The sea was warm, gentle, and the clear sky seemed to give them permission to play.
Cody climbed onto his board, turned toward Bridgette, and shouted: "Let the waves celebrate us!"
Bridgette launched with grace, ready for whatever came.
And so the ritual began.
Surf was underway.
The boards floated. The water was warm, the sky clear, and the sea had that perfect rhythm between calm and play. Bridgette settled on her board with fluid movements, while Cody was already standing, balancing with arms spread like an acrobat mid-performance.
Owen ran along the shore, throwing himself into the waves to create turbulence. Noah, more stoic, pushed water with a board as if part of a ritual he didn't understand but respected by social contract.
"First official wave of the day!" Owen shouted, falling backward with a splash that raised more foam than useful water.
Cody seized the momentum and launched. The board slid fast, and for a moment, he managed to stay upright in a pose that looked straight out of a superhero comic.
"Look at that!" Cody shouted. "The sea god has given me powers!"
Bridgette followed, more technical, more precise. Her board cut the water with elegance, and though she didn't strike ridiculous poses, her style had something that made everyone watch.
"Now that's surfing!" Noah said from the water, splashing Owen.
"I'm surfing too, but horizontally!" Owen replied, floating on his back.
Cody spun the board, attempted a clumsy jump, and fell sideways. The water swallowed him for a second, but he emerged with arms raised.
"Trick number one: the depressed dolphin spin!" he shouted.
Bridgette laughed. "That was more fall than trick."
"But with artistic intention!" Cody said, shaking his hair.
"Want to do challenges?" Bridgette asked, smiling with a hint of mischief.
"Surf challenges? Here and now?" Cody asked.
"Yes. One by one. You do one, I repeat. Then the other way around," Bridgette said.
Owen perked up. "I want to be judge!"
Noah raised his hand. "Me too. But without moving much."
"First challenge!" Cody said, climbing onto the board. "Surf with arms crossed."
Bridgette raised an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge or an arrogance pose?"
"Both," Cody said, launching.
The board slid. Cody crossed his arms, held balance for five seconds, then fell as if the sea had shoved him for insolence.
"Five seconds!" Owen shouted. "World record in passive-aggressive surfing!"
Bridgette launched. Crossed her arms. Stayed firm. Ten seconds. Then spun the board and returned as if nothing.
"Does that count as humiliation?" Noah asked.
"Counts as perfection!" Owen said.
"Second challenge," Bridgette said. "Surf backwards."
Cody climbed onto the board. "Is that legal?"
"It's fun," Bridgette said.
Cody turned. Positioned himself backwards. The board wobbled like it doubted his choices. Cody managed three seconds before falling with a dramatic cry.
"The sea betrayed me!" he shouted.
Bridgette imitated. Positioned herself backwards. The board slid. She stayed. Five seconds. Ten. Then spun elegantly back to normal.
"That was ninja surf!" Owen shouted.
"That was surfing with GPS!" Noah said.
Cody swam closer. "Alright. I give up. You're better. But I've got style."
"And that counts for points," Bridgette said, nudging his shoulder lightly.
"Third challenge!" Owen shouted. "Surf with battle cries!"
Cody climbed onto the board. "For the kingdom of waves!"
Bridgette: "For aquatic justice!"
Owen: "For the breakfast I didn't digest well!"
Noah: "For ending this soon!"
The boards moved. The waves came. The shouts mixed with the sound of the sea. Cody attempted a jump. Bridgette carved a perfect curve. Owen threw himself into the water like part of the show. Noah scored them with numbers that made no sense.
"Cody: 8.5 for effort and 2 for physics!" Noah shouted.
"Bridgette: 10 for technique and 11 for humiliating Cody unintentionally!" he added.
Cody collapsed onto his board, floating on his back. "I'm defeated. But happy."
Bridgette approached, pushing her board with her feet. "Want to give up or keep going?"
"I want to keep going. But with less dignity," Cody said.
Owen swam in circles. "This is better than any challenge Chris gives us!"
Noah turned toward the shore. "You think Chris is watching?"
"If he is, he's definitely taking notes to make us surf with sharks," Cody said.
Bridgette laughed. "Then let's enjoy it while there aren't sharks."
The waves kept rolling. The sun shone. The boards floated. And between jokes, challenges, and glorious wipeouts, surfing became more than sport.
It was play.
A ritual of the season.
It was friendship.
And Cody, though not winning, felt at home.