“Why would I do that?” I roll my eyes and yawn. Even if I wanted to, I’ve had no time between my full schedule of classes. “I don’t even know where your cabin is.”
One of the Lockets pipes up, “Well, after what we did to your—”
Tiffany nudges her sharply in the ribs to shut her up, but that’s all I need to hear to know who was responsible for our cabin redecoration. You don’t have to be a sheriff’s daughter to see past her act. Whoever switched her shampoo deserves a medal.
“I’ve been in classes all morning,” I say, unzipping my backpack and making a display of pulling out my schedule. I thrust it under her pointed nose. “See? Go on, check if you don’t believe me. Don’t you think I have better things to be doing than switching your shampoo? I’ve been a little busy re-decorating my cabin after what happened last night.”
The mess hall descends into a weird, strained silence. All eyes are on us and what’s going down.
“I’m watching you, Ashley,” Tiffany warns menacingly. “Remember that.”
“Instead of watching me, you should be looking out for yourself,” I retort, standing my ground. After her stunt last night, I have every right to be mad. “I’m here for one reason and for one reason only, to make music. I don’t want to play your childish games, so leave me out of whatever the fuck you’re planning next. I didn’t switch your shampoo, but I should be thanking whoever did.”
She blinks hard in disbelief.
Since arriving, I’ve tried to blend into the background and focus on why I’m here, but Tiffany Lockhart has targeted me from day one. I’m not going to kiss her ass while she speaks to me like trash in front of the entire camp. Did she think I’d stand around like a doormat and allow her to walk over me?
At school, I looked different to everyone else. I listened to weird music, enjoyed David Lynch films when everyone else loved chick flicks, and I dyed my hair every color under the sun. I was the natural target for bullies in a town where anything other than being a country girl is frowned upon. Having no fear of defending myself quickly meant those asshats left me alone. Being Brick’s friend also helped put an end to some of the bullying, but his popularity can’t protect me here. I only have myself to rely on now.
“Watch your back, Cooper,” she threatens, then drops her voice so only I can hear. “This is just the beginning.”
Despite what Claudia said earlier and the cryptic comments about what happened to Riley, I’m not going to sit in a corner and cower in fear. How much damage can a princess who is afraid of breaking her nails really do?
“Do I look scared?” I roll my eyes in mild bemusement. “Your mom is famous, but that doesn’t make you any better than the rest of us.”
People like her are the worst. They don’t understand or appreciate how lucky they are. Tiffany takes a step back like I’ve slapped her.
“You’re nothing but a viral one-off,” she sneers. “Everyone will soon forget about you. You’re nothing.”
I reply with a sweet smile and say, “Green’s not a good look on you.”
I turn and stomp out. The only thing greener than Tiffany’s hair is her jealousy. Nothing she can throw at me could be any worse than what I’ve faced this last year. I’m here due to a pure accident, but a stuck-up daughter of a celebrity is not about to blow this summer for me. The best form of revenge will be through my music.
* * *
“Hey, Ash!” A voice calls as I pace away from the mess hall. I turn to see Leila running after me. “Wait up!”
When she catches up, she thrusts a brown paper bag into my hand.
I look down at it. “What’s this?”
“Lunch,” she replies breathlessly. “I thought you might need it.”
My stomach rumbles with gratitude.
Neither of us talk until we reach a picnic bench, a quiet spot with a great view of the lake. We sit and let the silence stretch out. With anyone else, it’d be awkward, but Leila doesn’t make me feel like I need to fill the silence.
“It was brave what you did back there,” Leila says finally. “No one usually talks to Tiffany like that.”
“I guess it’s true about news traveling fast in camp.” Maybe I shouldn’t have been so hasty in my outburst, especially when Tiffany has powerful connections in the industry. “All I want to do is focus on my music without drama. Is that really too much to ask?”
“Here it is,” Leila says, then she takes a deep breath. “It was me.”
I frown in confusion. “What’re you talking about?”
“The shampoo,” she groans. “I switched it after I left, and everyone was at the campfire last night.”
She didn’t have to tell me, but I appreciate her being honest.