Page 13 of Disharmony

My initial feelings of being starstruck are shattered. If she is anything to go by, maybe it’s a good thing I’ve never met anyone famous before.

“Thanks for the offer,” I say, staying where I am. Tiffany is used to the paparazzi and chauffeur-driven limousines, but that’s not the world I’m from. After being the weirdo in high school, I’m past caring about bitchy comments girls like her throw my way. “But I think I’m going to sit with whoever I want to.”

Tiffany’s perfectly threaded brows raise in surprise as her glare burns into mine. Clearly, she isn’t used to someone challenging her mighty status. Her mom may be an icon, but it doesn’t earn her the right to treat people like shit.

“Suit yourself,” Tiffany hisses. “But you should know that it pays to be nice to those in charge. You should think carefully about why you want to be here. Some friendships have more weight than others.”

“It’s Ash,” I correct her, then smile sweetly. Killing them with kindness is the best way to handle self-entitled assholes. “I appreciate your advice, but I’m a pretty good judge of character.”

Tiffany’s nostrils flare in fury, and she steps closer. Our conversation has attracted the attention of the entire mess hall. So much for trying to keep a low profile.

“There’s just one other thing, Ashley.” Tiffany spits. “Fame doesn’t last forever. If you’re not careful, you’ll leave here exactly how you came in. As a nobody.”

“Being a nobody beats being an asshole, doesn’t it?” I shrug, then turn my attention to the delicious looking pasta. “Are you hungry, Cookie?”

Tiffany’s mouth snaps open and shut like a goldfish. She puts her glasses back on and flounces away to re-join her entourage at their exclusive table.

“Woah, who knew you’d spend your first day in a face-off with Tiffany Lockhart?” Cookie whispers. “I’m impressed. No one dares say anything against her or the Lockets.”

“The Lockets?”

“That’s Tiffany’s band,” Cookie explains. “Think of them as camp royalty. Those bitches like to think they run the place.”

“And everyone just lets Tiffany do what she wants because her mom’s famous?” I shake my head. “That’s messed up.”

“Status is everything,” Cookie tells me as we move along the cafeteria line. “Tiffany doesn’t usually give campers like me the time of day. But, girl, it looks like she has her eyes set on you. Tiffany tries to recruit all the best female singers into the Lockets. She did the same last year. It’s her way of making sure she’ll make it into the final show, and no one will stand in her way. After last year’s show was canceled, she wants a solo spot and doesn’t take well to being refused by other people.”

The only thing Tiffany has to worry about in her life is attending the next movie premiere or buying the next designer bag, but she doesn’t threaten me. She wants to be here, but she doesn’t need it like I do.

“There’s a first for everything,” I say. “No one can tell people who they can be friends with. If the other singers are anything like her, I’d rather sit on my own every day.”

“Hey! You’re not gonna be sitting alone,” Cookie says. “You’ve definitely earned your seat among the cool kids at camp. Let me introduce you to my friends.”

* * *

After filling my tray with pasta and grabbing a Diet Coke, I follow Cookie to a table, trying to ignore the wide-eyed stares that follow. Tiffany’s simmering anger and her allies resting bitch faces don’t faze me when I’m about to eat the best meal ever. The diner in Meadow Springs is my usual idea of great food, but this is something else.

“Everyone,” Cookie addresses the table as I slide along the bench next to her to join three of our fellow campers. “This is Ash.”

“We already know who she is.” An effortlessly cool chick pulls off her giant pair of headphones and scooches over to make room. “I’m Leila.”

“A.k.a the most up and coming DJ on Earth,” a guy opposite her chips in.

“Still not going on a date with you, Conor,” Leila says, putting her headphones back on with a small grin. “But nice try.”

He clasps his hands to his chest in mock horror. “She breaks my heart.”

“This is Conor and Declan,” Cookie says, gesturing at the two redheaded Irish-American twins opposite. They are identical, but Conor has an obvious freckle under his left eye to help tell them apart. “They’re songwriters.”

Declan winks. “And heartbreakers.”

“Yeah, if anyone gives either of you the time of day,” Cookie says, then turns to me, “which they don’t.”

“But they will,” Conor insists. He pulls out a notebook. “We’re like Ed Sheeran, but with twice the talent.”

“And the modesty,” Leila murmurs under her breath.

“As soon as the Lockets hear the songs we’ve been working on, they’ll be begging us to write their album,” Conor continues, ignoring her. Even though Leila shot him down, I’m getting flirty vibes hidden behind their playful banter.

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