Page 104 of Disharmony

“I’m sure most people wouldn’t complain,” I say. How can he understand how I feel when he’s part of the biggest boy band of the century? “People would kill to be where you are.”

“If they knew what it takes to get to where we are, they’d run,” he says. A storm rolls over his face as he says, “I know you don’t take us seriously and don’t give a shit what I have to say, but if you listen to anything, listen to this: fame comes at a cost. You don’t belong to yourself anymore when the public owns you. The more fame you get, the more of your soul you lose. People own you. Your record label owns you. What you want doesn’t matter anymore. Think carefully about what you want to do next and see this as a warning. How much of your soul are you willing to give away to pretend to be someone you’re not?”

Chills run down my spine. I’ve had previous assumptions about the Lionhearts, but I never expected him to be so… deep. There’s an underlying darkness hidden behind his words, making me want to find out more. The life of the perfect isn’t so perfect at all.

“Are you telling me that it’d be better to give up?”

“No,” he says fiercely. I flush as his intense stare meets mine, and I have to look away from his dreamy, hypnotic eyes. “But you need to think about the person you want to be, and the life you want to have. McCallister is trying to make you fit into a mold, and Jacqueline is pulling the strings. It’s the same every year. The next few weeks are gonna get intense with the final show coming. You can feel it in the air. The desperation. The desire. Campers do crazy things under pressure. People are hungry and will do anything to get to the top. Don’t let the chaos sweep you away, and forget who you are underneath it all, no matter who you are pretending to be.”

His frank advice stuns me, and my mouth hangs open. Underneath Damon’s bad boy image, there’s substance. Something I’ve never seen in him before…

“Anyway,” he clears his throat and stands to brush himself off before bounding down the rocks. “I’ll drive you back to camp. Our session is up.”

We don’t speak on the way back, but his words are still ringing through my head.

Should I pay attention to his warning?

thirty-eight

Ash

After the unsettling mentoring session with Damon, I swing to the mess hall to grab lunch before McCallister’s class. Damon is right about one thing; the pressure is ramping up and someone is bursting into tears daily. Even the Lockets, who are usually preened to perfection, have a few hairs out of place and black circles under their eyes at rehearsals. Tiffany’s forcing them to practice around the clock.

I don’t get why they’re so worried. The performance is already close to perfect, but we repeat it over and over to make sure it’s completely flawless. McCallister wants us to do it in our sleep. Echoing Tiffany’s lines back to her is the easier part, I’m more worried about the choreography.

Desiree, our dance teacher, joins our rehearsals now, and I’m the ugly duckling in a row of swans. I’m taller than the other graceful backing singers, and my movements are off, almost always half a beat after the others. Desiree is kind, but she moved me to the back of the formation.

We go through from the top for the fifth time in a row.

“Don’t worry, Ash,” Desiree encourages as the last song ends, and I sigh after making a wrong turn. “You were almost perfect that time.”

“Almost isn’t perfect,” McCallister hisses.

Desiree’s eyebrows knit together as she replies, “That’s why we rehearse, McCallister.”

I should be trying more and putting all my energy into our practices, but my heart isn’t in it. Being in the final show, even in a small way, should make me happy, but it’s a monotonous chore that’s sucking the life outta me.

“We’re going to start practicing on the main stage tomorrow,” McCallister announces to the class. “We need to be ready.” He points at me. “And she needs to be ready.”

“She will be,” Desiree steps in to defend me. I’m not sure if she believes it or isn’t a fan of McCallister’s brutal regime either. “Right, Ash?”

I nod warily.

“I don’t know why she’s even on stage,” a first-year whispers. None of the first-years are taking part in the show, but they still attend our rehearsals to cheer along and practice. Everyone is a backup for another camper, and they have to be ready. “How is it fair that she breaks our rules and still gets to perform?”

Usually, I don’t retaliate, but I’m not in the mood to be tested today.

“Life’s not fair, honey,” I snarl at her. “Get the fuck over it.”

She yelps, clapping her hands over her mouth. They’re used to me letting their comments wash over me. Until this point, I’ve favored keeping a low profile over defending myself.

Desiree notices the confrontation and asks, “Is there a problem?”

“Everything’s fine,” I chirp back in an uncharacteristically cheerful tone.

“That’s all for today.” McCallister claps his hand to end the session. “Keep practicing. We’ll meet at the main stage at eight a.m. We’ll be joined by the technicians, stage manager, and the other campers too.”

Brilliant. Being humiliated in front of a small group in the studio is bad enough without having other campers helping with final preparations present.

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