Page 19 of Disharmony

I snatch the tampon from his fingers and zip my bag shut. “Thanks.”

I have to get the hell out of here as quickly as possible. Levi’s phone rings, and my shoulders sag in relief.

“See you around, Ash,” he says, then answers the call and heads down the corridor.

Levi York knows my name?

* * *

Standing outside Jacqueline Tate’s office is akin to waiting to be called into the Oval Office. The room itself is in the Administration Block, a separate building close to the mess hall. It allows her to stay close to the action and keep an eye on everything happening in camp.

Jacqueline’s secretary, Amber, who called to inform me of my place at Camp Harmony, sits in front of her door like a guard dog. Her perfect veneers are ready to rip out anyone’s throat who dares enter Jacqueline’s office without permission.

“You can go inside now, Ashley,” Amber instructs. “You have exactly fourteen minutes and twelve seconds before Jacqueline’s next call.”

An article about Jacqueline was published in Vogue earlier this year detailing her daily routine. Each minute of her day is scheduled, and she never arrives late to anything. Her life revolves around maximum efficiency.

I knock gingerly on the door and clear my throat. Having a one-on-one with someone who has been on the front cover of Vogue is more intimidating than when I was called to the Head Teacher’s office for spray paintingmeat is murderover the wall in the school yard.

Jacqueline calls from inside, “Come in!”

I push the door open and step into a grand office with giant windows. It’s more like a holiday apartment than an office and has French doors that open onto a small terrace to give an aerial view of the camp. Being on the second floor, you can even see the lake from up here. The sleek, glossy interiors couldn’t be more different from the wooden cabins in the Accommodation Village.

“Ashley, great to see you.” She gestures toward a comfy red sofa positioned in the corner of her office. “Take a seat.”

I do as she asks and sink into the cushions. It’s as comfy as it looks. Jacqueline sits on the chair opposite me. A table donning a teapot lies between us.

“Tea?” she offers, pouring herself one. I’ll never understand why tea is such a big deal in England.

“No thanks,” I decline. “I’m good.”

“No, really.” She pours me a cup and pushes the saucer over anyway. When Jacqueline Tate pours you a cup of tea, there’s no turning it down. “I insist.”

Jacqueline first found success as a twenty-something in a girl band that fell apart. After a string of chart-topping hits, she decided to launch her own record label. No one believed she could do it, but Starnote became legendary in its own right. It wasn’t until years after setting up the label that Jacqueline herself truly became a household name across America. She participated as a judge on a popular singing reality TV show, and her straight-talking attitude made her an instant hit with the public. She was also the one judge all artists would choose to work with above anyone else. She hasn’t only built her own career, but she’s turned other people into superstars along the way.

“Thank you.” I take a sip of the murky liquid. Yep, definitely dirty bath water.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” Jacqueline says. Her tone is easygoing and friendly, but her eyes are shrewd. “Your video online really made quite the stir, didn’t it?”

“I guess.” I shrug. “I mean, my friend uploaded it. I didn’t even know he was doing it. I never expected it to take off—”

“Of course you didn’t.” She smiles like she doesn’t believe a word of it. In a world where everyone is doing things for likes and followers, it’s hard to believe I managed to go viral on a whim. “How are you settling in here at Camp Harmony? It is a special place.”

“It’s amazing,” I say. “I’ve been dreaming of coming here forever.”

“You know how exceptionally rare it is that we offer last-minute places to students, don’t you?”

“And I’m so grateful!” I nod vigorously. “Really, I am.”

“I don’t need you to thank me,” she says, crossing her legs and leaning back. “You’ve already made it here. I want to find out whether you have what it takes. Tell me, Ashley, what do you want to get out of this summer?”

A kick-start to the rest of my life?

An opportunity to showcase what I’m capable of?

A stage to share my music my way with an audience?

Instead, I settle for the answer I think she wants to hear.

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