Page 18 of Disharmony

I point at the guitar. “I’ll do an acoustic version.”

My preference would have been to belt out a punk rock song with a good slice of scream in the middle… but I have to think outside the box if I want to keep my scholarship.

“Fine, fine.” McCallister clicks his fingers. “Let’s get this over with.”

Another camper passes me the guitar. Stroking its cherry neck brings a sense of comfort in a room filled with inflated egos and professionally trained singers. Feeling the strings beneath my fingers is like coming home. Unlike people, instruments are easy to understand. I speak their language.

I take a few seconds to check its tuned correctly, then here goes nothing…

I find the chords and begin to play at a slower tempo. As I pluck and strum, building up to the chorus, I focus on the lyrics instead of the audience scrutinizing every note. My mom sang to me constantly when I was a kid. Her voice had an other-worldly quality that pierced your soul and made you feel. She favored folk and country, so I grew up listening to the likes of Patsy Cline and Stevie Nicks on repeat.

As I sing, my mind strays to memories of my mom cooking pancakes in the kitchen with flour on her nose and dancing while clearing our plates. She couldn’t cook without dancing or singing.

The song comes to an end quicker than I expect. I’ve made it to the end without being stopped by McCallister. A small victory.

“Not completely terrible.” McCallister sniffs. “Get back in line, Video Girl.”

I’ll take that.

We will find out at our next class which parts we’ve been assigned in the final show. McCallister worships Tiffany, so it’s hard to imagine anyone but her getting a major role… least of all a nobody like me.

* * *

I hang back at the end of singing class as the others head out, deep in discussions and dissecting each other’s auditions.

Fortunately, I have no time to overanalyze my performance as I need to head straight to Jacqueline Tate’s office for a scheduled meeting. She makes a point of meeting with every new student during the first week. As a scholarship student, I’ve made it to the top of her list.

Jacqueline is a badass bitch who has made it in an industry dominated by men. She’s brilliant but equally terrifying. She’s had to work twice as hard to get where she is in the industry. She built Starnote from nothing to the biggest and most well-known record label in the world.

BAM!

As I stumble out of the classroom, a figure walks right into me. My backpack flies off my shoulder from the force, and the contents spill over the floor. I bend to pick up the mess and see a guy’s sneakers step over me to continue walking.

Arrogant, non-apologetic shit brain!

How hard is it to apologize or stop to help?

“Maybe you should watch where you’re going?” I call after him, snapping my head up to watch him go.

He stops dead in his tracks and turns around, surprise written all over his face.

Fuck.

This guy usually walks through life expecting everyone else to move out of his way.

“What did you say?” Levi asks.

He isn’t officially one of Camp Harmony’s teaching staff, but will calling him out on his manners get me blacklisted? Damn my ability to not let bad manners slide.

“I said, you should watch where you’re going,” I repeat, quieter this time. “You wouldn’t want someone to sue you for injury, right?”

“You make a good point,” Levi says. A small grin creeps over his usually dead-pan expression. For a member of the most famous boy band of all time, Levi doesn’t smile often, but it suits him. The creases around his green eyes make his whole face come alive. “But I did save your audition, so we’re square.”

“What do you want? Another award for it?” I’m unable to hide my irritation. The Lionhearts already have enough awards to fill my entire house back home. “Just maybe think about apologizing next time you walk into someone, okay?”

Calling people out is one of the reasons I was never popular in high school. According to a therapist I was forced to see a few months ago, my honesty can be a little abrasive.

“You’re right,” Levi says, returning to kneel down and help me pick up my items. He holds out a rogue tampon, making me blush right down to the roots of my hair. Getting one of the Lionhearts to help pick up sanitary items isn’t exactly part of their role. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

---