Page 107 of Disharmony

“Ready, Ash?” Cookie’s voice says. “3… 2… 1…”

The first song starts playing.

I start the first line, but a screeching noise makes me jump back like I’ve stepped on a cat.

“Our bad!” Cookie says. “Go again!”

It starts again, and spotlights flicker on. Streams of lights come from different positions and are almost blinding. I can’t see what’s projected behind me, but colorful lights keep appearing in my peripheral vision. Unlike the Basilisks gig at The Smoker, where I could focus solely on music, this piece is filled with theatrics and takes performance to another level.

I start signing the first verse. I can recite the words in my sleep after the hours of rehearsals. For a woman, my voice is naturally deep and has a raspy edge, but I make a conscious effort to control it and temper it to a softer sound. I think of Mom and try to emulate her gentle, country-inspired tone that used to fill our house.

“You’re doing great, Ash,” Cookie says. “We’re just gonna try out the other mic now, can you move around a bit?”

I don’t break from singing as I move around the stage, and the spotlight follows me.

“Perfect!” Cookie compliments. “Back to the middle again for the chorus.”

My confidence is growing as I get more comfortable with my surroundings. The small audience is furiously taking notes, paying attention to the details of the set design, and not looking in my direction, which helps. I am a prop and microphone tester, nothing more.

I sing from my diaphragm to belt out the chorus and carry the high note for as long as I can, enjoying how my voice echoes through the clearing and fills the space.

We repeat the song three times. Each time, my inhibitions shed a little more. For someone who likes to shrink into the shadows in everyday life, being on stage brings another side of me out. Sure, it’s nerve-racking, but as long as I’m singing, everything else falls away.

This is why I came to Camp Harmony.

To feel like this.

To feel alive!

“That’s great, Ash! I think that’s all we need for now,” Cookie says as we come to the end of the song. “Let’s take five and make some adjustments then we’ll go through again, okay?”

I nod and stroll to wings, where a camper hands me a glass of water. Considering she was scowling at me earlier, her demeanor is different.

“You were great out there,” she admits.

I take a sip and manage a half-smile.

“She’s right,” a familiar voice says.

I almost spill the cup over myself as Jacqueline Tate steps forward. Her slick black suit and heels look out of place among campers wearing hot pants. It doesn’t matter where you are on Camp Harmony grounds. Jacqueline is always watching.

Jacqueline nudges her head to the side. “Can I have a moment with you, Ashley?”

“Um… sure,” I stammer.

“What the hell does she want?” Cookie whispers into my earpiece as curious gazes watch us. I catch Cookie’s eye as we pass and make a shrugging motion.

We head to the dressing room. Jacqueline clearing her throat is enough to send loitering campers scampering away to leave us alone. She can clear a room with a single glance. How would it feel to have so much power that people do as you say without having to ask?

“It seems you’ve taken my advice,” Jacqueline says as soon as the others have vacated. “Your performance was impressive.”

At the start of the summer, I’d have been giddy to receive a huge compliment from someone of her stature, but it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth now. Her previous threat to tear down my career still hovers in the back of my mind, reminding me of her ability to crush me like a bug.

“Thanks,” I reply, shifting nervously from one foot to another.

“After your earlier stunt, I want to make sure the public sees you for who you really are,” Jacqueline says. Yeah, the artist she wants me to be. “I’m going to speak to McCallister and make changes to the final show.”

“Changes?”

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