Page 62 of Disharmony

“How are you feeling?” Cookie asks.

“I’m fine.” Leila sighs in exasperation. “I’ve had a wave of inspiration and haven’t been able to stop. You’ll lose your shit when you hear the remixes.”

“And this sudden wave of inspiration has nothing to do with Conor making out with Tiffany?” Cookie probes.

“Conor can do what the fuck he wants.” Leila’s lips press into a disapproving line, but emotion stirs behind her eyes. Something more than anger… hurt? No, that’s not it either. Whatever it is, she’s trying her darndest to hide it. “It’s a free fucking country, and it’s none of my business what girl rams her tongue down his throat.”

“Has he tried to see you?” Cookie questions.

Leila looks away. “I don’t think he wants to.”

“That’s not true, Lei.” Cookie’s expression softens. “He made a mistake, but he cares about you.”

“I don’t need you to be a matchmaker, Cookie.” Leila scowls. “I know you mean well, but… just don’t, okay? Not this time.”

“What have you been working on?” I sense Leila’s irritation rising and change the subject. “Can we hear something?”

Her face lights up as whatever thought bothering her disappears. Like me, Leila gets lost in her music. Music takes you to a place where your problems fall away.

“They’re not ready for anyone else to hear yet,” Leila says, “but they’re almost there. I’ll be playing this set on my tour around Europe when summer ends. The festival crowds are gonna eat it up. Are you singing tonight, Ash?”

“Not tonight,” I reply. “But—”

“Holy shit,” Cookie interrupts with a gasp, her voice three octaves higher than usual. Leila and I exchange looks. The last time we heard her gasp like that was when she saw an adorable video of a baby penguin sliding along ice. “I’ve just seen the camp announcement feed.”

“There’s a camp announcement feed?” I ask, not remembering coming across it in my earlier research.

“It’s only for campers. It’s not publicly available. Sometimes camp administration puts news on there,” Cookie says, then returns to the announcement blowing up her cell. “The Lionhearts are going to perform at the open-mic.”

“Wait, let me see,” Leila dives forward and snatches it off her. Would the prospect of seeing her pre-teen crushes sing force her to leave the cabin? “Damn, I thought you were lying.”

“Unfortunately not,” I mutter sarcastically,

I still can’t see what the big deal is.

After meeting the Lionhearts, I listened to their albums again to give them a second chance. I know Levi is a talented songwriter from the scrawls in his notebook, Zach has great technical knowledge, and Damon… well, he never conforms to expectations, which is badass in its own right. But I still can’t see their music as anything but glorified trash.

“Can I tempt you to leave your cabin now?” Cookie asks Leila.

Stupid question. She’s already sifting through her wardrobe to pick out an outfit, unable to say no to a private show. I’m more interested in hearing from our fellow campers. If I want to hear the Lionhearts, all I have to do is walk into a grocery store or gas station to hear them on the radio.

“Do mentors usually perform?” I ask.

“Sometimes,” Cookie says, her voice rising with excitement, “but never at our open mics! Jacqueline usually likes to invite alumni or special guests to make a big night out of it when mentors perform.”

* * *

After Leila changes three times before finding the right crop top to wear, we hurry to join the hordes clambering to get into the mess hall. The usual long benches and tables have been pushed to the sides of the room, making a space in the middle for dancing.

All sense of order fades as elbows jab into my ribs by multiple campers trying to shove closer to the stage. Leila and Cookie are no better. Cookie almost dislocates my shoulder pulling me aggressively through a group of scowling first-year guys with guitars. Judging by their sullen expressions, they’re not happy to fight the Lionhearts for the attention of a nearby gaggle of girls. Annoyance rushes through me on their behalf. The Lionhearts have had their big break. Are they so starved of the spotlight that they can’t resist taking it from someone else?

“You could be them in a few years,” I turn back to remind them. “They started out where you are now.”

The guys shake their heads, but they’re thinking about it. Nothing seems impossible when you’re at Camp Harmony. Thousands of kids dream about becoming a football star or an astronaut. For most, they are lofty dreams that will never come true, but being a music star isn’t out of reach for the campers here.

On the other side of the mess hall, the campers part for Tiffany to pass through. She needs to be within licking distance of Zach’s sneakers.

Leila spots her and narrows her eyes. “It looks like she’s over Conor and back to panting over the Lionhearts again.”

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