Page 44 of Disharmony

“No more than the usual bitchy remarks,” I reply, applying a third layer of mascara. It’s clumpy, and my eyelashes look like spider legs, but I don’t mind it. “At the moment, she prefers to pretend I don’t exist, which suits me fine. If she stays out of my way, I’ll stay out of hers.”

Tiffany went quiet after our last confrontation and seems to have forgotten about the shampoo incident since her hair has returned to its silky blonde perfection.

“Good.” Cookie’s shoulders slack in relief, and she turns her attention to a massive binder she doesn’t go anywhere without.

Cookie is taking her role as stage manager seriously. Despite her chaotic appearance, she’s the most organized and resourceful person I’ve ever met. Her sunny and approachable personality makes people want to help her out, which means she can get twice the amount of shit done compared to a normal person. Tiffany should take lessons from her.

Cookie looks up from flicking through her papers. “I’m meeting the twins later to go over some of my plans for the show. Afterward, we’re going for a swim in the lake. Do you want to come? It’ll be fun.”

My heart seizes. A swim? That’ll mean…

“I’m not a good swimmer,” I lie. Swimming means wearing a bathing suit, and I can’t. Not here. Not among people who already see me as an outsider and will use anything as a weapon. “But I’ll still come down to the beach. It’ll be a good time for me to get writing done.”

“Sure,” she replies, oblivious to my reluctance. She stashes her binder underneath her arm and blows a kiss before leaving. “Good luck at rehearsals.”

I’ll need it.

* * *

When I arrive at the studio, Tiffany is already mid-chorus. I’m five minutes early, but everyone is already drinking their second cup of coffee, which means…

“You’re late!” McCallister points a finger in accusation.

I glance at the clock. “But we start at ten?”

“We start at nine.” He corrects me and tuts, raising his voice to make sure the class hears. “Everyone else got the memo.”

“I didn’t,” I answer through clenched teeth. Tiffany and her Lockets whisper behind their hands and snicker. It’s like being back in high school. I spoke too soon this morning by saying things have gone quiet. Don’t they have better things to do than stalk my cabin and stop mail coming through?

Tiffany stops singing to hang off McCallister’s every word.

“I will not tolerate laziness, Video Girl,” McCallister sneers. The fucker enjoys every second of talking down to me. Maybe I should have taken up Dad’s offer of a taser. “If this is how you are going to show commitment to the program, I won’t stand for it.”

I open my mouth to try to explain, but he won’t let me get a word in and jumps back down my throat.

“Final places in the show are not guaranteed,” McCallister snarls. “I can cut you out like that.” He pretends his fingers are scissors and makes aggressive cutting motions. “Camp Harmony has the power to make or break people. People, like you, who don’t show commitment are never going to make it in this business.”

Some teachers have acruel to be kindapproach, but his tirade feels personal. What did I ever do to offend him?

“What’s that in your face?” He points at my nose. Shit, I completely forgot I tried a new clicker last night. It’s a delicate silver hoop that hugs my septum. McCallister throws his arms in the air and addresses everyone else. “Let this be a lesson to you all. In this industry, image is everything. One wrong move, and you’re out. People have expectations. Your audience will have expectations.” He casts me a scathing look of condescending disapproval. “That is, if you ever find an audience.”

A girl says in a melodramatic fashion, “She looks like a bull.”

Yeah, a bull who could throw her into the middle of a mosh pit to be trampled.

McCallister smirks and doesn’t reprimand her. Unlike Desiree, who doesn’t allow students to talk shit in her dance class, McCallister enjoys suffering. Bullies side with bullies, period. He’s disliked me since the first class. If he hates me so much, why did he include me in the final show line-up?

“I’ll take it out,” I mutter.

Cookie and I spent time dressing up last night. She wanted to take new photos for my social media, and we used the forest as a backdrop.

“You’d better, Video Girl,” he hisses. “If I see you wearing that thing again, you’re out. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I reply, clenching my fists as Tiffany and her cronies giggle.

Although I pride myself on not giving a shit about what other people think, his blatant favoritism stings. If Tiffany was targeted in the same way, her mom would sue. Dad taught me how to fight back when cornered, but I learned myself how to handle intolerance and peoples lack of acceptance of anything that deviates from the norm.

In Meadow Springs, I’d never have let someone talk to me the way McCallister does, but it’s different here. My pride isn’t the only thing at stake, and no matter how much I want to remind McCallister about what it means to be a decent fucking person, it’d be a nail in the coffin of my career… if it’s not dead already.

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