Page 28 of Disharmony

“Have you seen them perform before?” Cookie asks, scrolling through their website to look at pictures from more of their previous shows.

“I wish.” I sigh dramatically. “In Meadow Springs, we only get local bands and, if we’re lucky, a few subpar Pearl Jam tributes passing through town. The Basilisks would never perform in a place like that. But I’d love to see them… one day.”

“Well, maybe you don’t have long to wait.” Cookie points at the screen. “See, there? Wilderton. They’re playing a gig next Friday. You know that’s our closest town, right? We can get there from here.”

“Wait, what?” I almost fall off the bed. I’ve been so wrapped up in getting to camp that I haven’t noticed an additional tour date has been added. How the hell did I miss this? I’d never have noticed the obscure town date without Cookie pointing it out. “No way.”

Cookie laughs at my reaction. She doesn’t realize how much it meant to me, or how long I’ve been waiting to see them. They’ve been the ones to pull me out of the deepest pit of depression, and without them, I probably wouldn’t be here now.

“So, you wanna go then?” she teases.

“Do I want to?” My heart thunders in my chest. “Nothing can stop me!”

“You’ll need to run it past Jacqueline first,” she says. “We need to get permission to leave site.”

“Will she grant it?”

“For a Basilisk gig? Hell, no.” Cookie grins mischievously. “But it depends on whether you’re willing to break the rules.”

“For them? I’ll break every fucking rule.”

The Basilisks are non-negotiable. This might be the only opportunity I’ll ever get to see my idols live. It doesn’t matter whether Jacqueline gives us permission or what rules I have to break to get there. I won’t miss it.

“Leave it with me,” Cookie says, then frowns as she glances at her closet. “What do you wear to a gig like that? I don’t think I own any black.”

“It’ll be my turn to give you a glow down,” I say. After the glitter attack earlier, this will be payback.

A mental countdown has started in my head, ticking down the number of days. Knowing I’ll be seeing the Basilisks in the flesh will give me the strength to deal with whatever shit McCallister or Tiffany throw my way.

* * *

A bucket of red acrylic over my bed isn’t the only damage Tiffany and her army of followers caused last night. When Cookie and I leave our cabin for breakfast, the full extent of their “art” is visible for the entire camp to see. The wordWANNABEis painted over our porch in giant letters.

By the time we get to the mess hall for breakfast, after trying to throw water over the paint with little success, everyone else is finishing up.

“Where have you been?” Declan asks. “You look…”

“Like shit,” Conor finishes his twin’s sentence. After being woken by a paint tsunami and listening to the Basilisks latest albums twice over, we are both running low on sleep. “Did you both have too much punch at the party last night?”

“Actually, someone decided to play a prank on us,” I say, but no amount of tiredness is going to dampen my spirits this morning. After finding out the Basilisks are playing nearby, I’m more awake than I have been for weeks.

Leila takes off her headphones and places them on the table. “What happened?”

“Let’s just say, we had a little redecoration,” Cookie says. She shows the others a picture of our fetching new outdoor mural on her phone. I mentally thank her for not mentioning my freak out about the paint inside our cabin. “I’m gonna paint over it later. What do you think? A rainbow? A sunset?”

“How can you even joke about it?” Leila asks sharply. “It’s happening over again. You can all see that, right?”

“Hey,” Conor reasons. “It was just a joke. People play jokes on new campers all the time.”

“Not like this.” Leila’s eyes narrow as she looks at the three of them. “And you all know it.”

I crack a nervous laugh, trying to lighten the tense mood that has suddenly descended over our cereal and toast. “It’s just harmless fun, right?”

“You didn’t tell her?” Leila turns on Cookie in accusation. “This is how it started with Riley. Pranks, a smear campaign, and… then…”

“Leila,” Cookie warns, dropping her voice. “Not now.”

“No, I’ve had enough. This is bullshit.” Leila slams her glass down, making everyone’s cutlery rattle. “No one wants to talk about what happened, but Riley was my friend. Have any of you stopped to think about her or what her life is like now?”

---