Page 106 of Disharmony

“Good.” She links my arm, and we head to the back of the stage where chaos is breaking out.

Another thing that makes Camp Harmony unique is how the final show is run solely by campers: staging, lighting, tech support… everything. Considering the fees campers are paying, they could pay professionals to do it, but it’s about showcasing everyone’s talents. Their final shows outdo most professional productions I’ve seen, and it’s a way for industry experts to find new hires.

“Finally!” A flustered girl I haven’t spoken to before groans as she spots us. “I was starting to think you weren’t showing up.”

“Chill out, okay? We’re five minutes ahead of time,” Cookie says fondly, tapping her watch. As we walk away from her, Cookie adds, “She’ll be the new me next year.”

Campers rush around, talking to each other through their earpieces about various aspects of the staging: when the platforms will rise from the bottom of the stage, will the confetti drop at the perfect time, what about the visuals in the background? I thought two weeks to rehearse on the final stage would be enough, but now I’m questioning it.

“Are you sure everyone is okay with me being here?” I ask as I notice other campers throw funny looks in our direction.

“I’m the one in charge,” Cookie says. “It’s my choice who does the sound test, and the Queen of the Lockets will get plenty of time center stage. I know you’ve been feeling low lately, and I figured this might be good for you. You may not have a solo in the final show, but singing on the big stage is really something. It’s a piece of history, and you’ll have been part of it.”

“Thanks, Cookie,” I say, blown away by her constant thoughtfulness and generosity.

A deep voice from behind us causes me to spin around, “Are we ready to go, Cookie?”

We face Zach Royal. He wears a loose-fitting linen shirt and jeans that make him look ready to appear in a music video.

“Almost!” Cookie replies brightly.

Zach nods. “I’ll be out front.”

“Zach’s been helping pull the rehearsal together,” she says, noticing my bulging eyes. “I may have suggested you do the sound test, but he’s the one who backed me up.”

I snort. “Maybe he’s finally gotten sick of Tiffany fawning over him like a lovesick puppy?”

Cookie giggles as she hands me an earpiece.

“The crew will be able to speak to you through it,” she explains, also clipping a microphone to the front of my T-shirt and fastening a wireless transmitter to the back of my waistband. “We’re testing all equipment today, so we’ll flip between this and the main microphone on stage.”

“What will I be singing?” I ask.

Nervous butterflies flutter in the pit of my stomach.

“You’ll be singing the songs from the final show.” Cookie winks. “Sorry, I couldn’t wiggle in a Basilisks track.”

“I think everyone has already heard enough of that,” I mutter under my breath.

I try to remember this is different than getting on stage with the Basilisks. I’m not Ash, I’m Ashley Cooper.

“Okay, all done!” Cookie re-checks my microphones for the third time. “Perfect! Are you ready?”

This isn’t the final show, but it’s my chance to live out a moment I’ve imagined for years. So many icons have sang on the Camp Harmony stage, and I’ll be joining them. What would my mom have thought?

Cookie hurries me through a makeshift dressing room to the wings of the stage.

“This is where I’ll leave you,” Cookie says. “Your stage awaits.”

I walk on.

The floor space is an endless expanse, bigger than it seems from the ground or looking from a distance. A small group of campers sit in the front row, alongside Zach Royal, while everyone else flits around in the background to make sure everything is working. For the final show, every seat will be taken, and cameras will follow our every move.

“Go to the microphone and stand on the X,” Cookie orders through the headpiece. “When you’re there, I’ll give you a count down.”

Seconds stretch out as I stride to the big white X taped down. Other markings and tape surround it, presumably for when the entire cast is present. They’ll be removed for the final show.

I look beyond the small audience at the forest and camp that stretches beyond.

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