Page 61 of Disharmony

She nods and stops to flip open her binder.

I stare in horror. “Are you seriously making notes on this?”

“How am I meant to figure out who the mystery guy is if I don’t write down the clues?” she says like it’s totally a normal thing to do. “How are you going to get to Wilderton?”

“I’m still figuring that part out,” I say.

“How do you know he’s not a serial killer?” Cookie demands, snapping her binder closed. “You’re not going there alone. I want you picked up and dropped off at set times.”

I groan. “You’re worse than my dad.”

“I’ll cover for you if you let one of the twins take you and pick you up,” she negotiates. “They have a car.”

“Fine,” I relent. There’s no point fighting a losing battle. “If they can do it…”

“They will.” She grins. “They owe me a favor.”

“Who doesn’t owe you a favor?” I joke.

“Whoever this guy is must be pretty special,” Cookie says, continuing her dig for information. She’s no quitter. “But you can’t let a guy distract you from why you’re here, Ash. This is your chance.”

I nod to keep her happy.

She has a point, but I can’t deny how my heart isn’t fully invested in what I’m doing here. Apart from the few friendships I’ve made, the best thing to come out of my experience so far is the connection I’m building with Ripper. Camp Harmony helps build your network, and I’m doing that my own way—even if it means I’m following a less traditional path.

We walk to the end of the row of cabins and keep going, heading through a thicket of trees.

“Leila lives this way,” Cookie explains.

“Why isn’t her cabin with the others?” I ask.

I didn’t realize there were cabins outside of the accommodation zone. A small wooden structure comes into view as we keep going. It’s surrounded by nothing but trees, far away from everything, and everyone, else.

“It used to be the nurses’ cabin,” Cookie says, “and Leila likes being away from people. She likes her own company.”

Camp Harmony is safe, but I wouldn’t want to be as secluded as Leila. We climb the porch and approach the door. The curtains are drawn, making it impossible to see whether she’s around.

“Leila?” Cookie knocks loudly and calls out. “It’s me and Ash. Can we come in?”

No answer.

“We’re going to open-mic,” I chip in. “Do you want to come?”

I hear a snicker from inside.

“Can we come in for a few minutes?” I suggest, imagining she’s rolling her eyes hard. “We just want to see that you’re okay, then we’ll leave.”

Reluctant feet shuffle closer to the door and it flies open, making us jump back to avoid it sweeping our ankles. Leila stands in front of us, crossing her arms, with giant headphones resting around her neck. Behind her, music sheets and scrunched up balls of paper cover the floor.

“I’m fine, see?” she snaps and reaches for the door handle. “You can go now.”

Cookie wags her finger, wedging her sneaker in the gap to stop her closing it. “Hey, not so fast.”

Leila clenches her jaw but doesn’t fight it. She knows how persistent Cookie is. We step into the cabin, being careful not to step on anything.

“Take a seat,” Leila murmurs sarcastically, gesturing to the giant beanbag in the corner of her room.

We sink into it.

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