Page 69 of Disharmony

“Um…” I’ve seen them in the Camp Harmony spaces but know zilch about how to use mixing decks. “I think I can press record and stop?”

“That’s all we need,” Ripper says. “It helps us to record our practices. We can listen back and see where we need to improve before recording the final version.”

Through the glass, the studio interiors give a nineties grunge Nirvana vibe with tired decor and wooden panel walls. Zed and Venom go inside, but Ripper hangs back and leads me to the control room. There’s a leopard print throne-like chair in front of the desk, which I head toward.

Ripper grabs my wrist; his touch sends tingles racing up my arms. Although he’s wearing fingerless gloves, my knees go weak at the heat of his skin through the woven black fabric.

His voice softens, “I’m glad you could make it, Ash.”

It sounds almost familiar… I shake myself. Of course, it sounds familiar. I’ve listened to them for so long it feels like I already know them.

“Me too,” I reply—or at least I hope that’s what I say as there’s a possibility a garbled string of nonsense spews out from being starstruck.

“These are the buttons you press to start, stop, and rewind the bass tracks. When we’re polishing songs, Zed prefers to concentrate on singing. You can hit this red button to record.” Ripper points at them, but I’m only half paying attention as my arm burns from his touch. He senses my distraction. “Hey, are you okay? Ignore Zed. He’s not used to having someone else around, so he’s being a jerk.”

“I’m fine.” Hell, more than fine. I’m about to get an exclusive private show from my favorite band of all time. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I really want to hear what you think of our new work.” Ripper hands me headphones to wear. “You have… insight.”

A warm fuzzy excitement spreads through my chest, but the headphones help ground me to reality. I put them over my ears, muffling the distant hum of the equipment buzzing in the machine room next door, as Ripper joins the others, and I watch through the glass.

He sits behind the drum kit and holds his thumb up.

I press the play and record buttons.

They start to play and everything else falls away…

twenty-one

Venom

She’s all I look at through the slits in my mask. The headphones are too big for her. She’s taller than average but looks small in the mixing suite, or maybe it’s just her nerves. All I wanna do is reach through the glass and tell her she belongs here. She needs to learn to take up the space she deserves. I’ve heard her sing, we all have, but I’ve been there when McCallister tears her to shreds…

I want to punch the callous bastard for the remarks he aims at her, stomping around the room believing he’s better than everyone else. McCallister has a target every year. There’s always one unfortunate soul he picks and decides to make their life miserable. This year, it’s Ash. If it weren’t for her viral video attracting extra attention, she’d never be in the final show line-up. If I didn’t speak up during the selection process, I suspect he’d have found another reason to push her to the sidelines.

I know how it feels to fall victim to McCallister’s lofty expectations and what it’s like to be a scholarship student. I’ve been in her shoes. I’ve watched from afar and saw how she’s been trying to find her place. But how can you fit into a world where you’re constantly made to feel you’ll never be good enough? Our stories have distinct parallels, and I wonder whether she’s stopped to think about it. Probably not. Her obvious dislike for Levi York and the Lionhearts has been clear through her actions. Although, her dislike doesn’t rival my own hatred of the commercial machine we were forced to become.

I noticed Ash from the beginning. In her first class with McCallister, her rendition ofLove Storywas laughable. Her voice had a strange, strained quality. But, as soon as she got the guitar in her hands, everything changed.

After seeing her viral video, I could truly see why she’s special. The song didn’t suit her voice, but emotion pours out of her when she sings, like a piece of her soul tears away for the listener to take. It’s a special power. One few people possess, and one I’m infuriated to discover Ripper has seen in her too. Plus, she’s the only person in Camp Harmony who doesn’t kiss our asses, which I respect.

It’s not a shock that Ripper has been bold enough to talk to her. He’s a flirt. The guy flirts with anyone with a pulse, whether he’s Ripper or Damon. But I’m surprised at how cagey he’s been about it. Why only mention her coming at the last minute? We never keep secrets from each other… or we haven’t, until her.

Zed is losing his shit but trying to mask it. For him, the Basilisks are more than a band. They are his entire life, which is ironic as, before I found out more about his life, I thought he had the least to lose. He comes from a celebrity family with a disgusting amount of wealth. He would never have to work a day in his life if he didn’t want to. Of course, all of us now have the luxuries being a Lionheart affords… but it’s different for Zed. This is the first time he’s had a life of his own. Being a Basilisk has set him free and let him live his own dreams, not those of his control freak parents.

As we play, Ash scribbles notes. She nods along to the music, and a pink flush across her cheeks makes her skin glow. Seeing her now makes me glad Ripper broke the rules, and I realize I want her to be here as much as he does.

I’m not the only one watching her. She may think she’s the one observing, but it’s the other way around. In the control room, she’s a lone fish and we’re a pack of circling sharks. When was the last time a girl fascinated me like she does?

Zed sings from our new song:

“They spit and they fire,

But they can’t tear me apart,

Their bullets are sharp and shoot through my heart…”

Although Zed doesn’t approve of Ash joining our session, he isn’t holding back. Hearing his signature primal roar makes me grin, making the surrounding air buzz with energy. Maybe we’ll have to use this track in the next album after all.

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