Page 75 of Disharmony

“No,” I cut her off. “Sorry, I didn’t mean… no, NOT laundry… everything is fine. Better than fine actually, but I might need a favor.”

Cookie breathes a sigh of relief. “A little favor like borrowing a pair of shoes, or…?”

“Can you cover for me if I don’t come back tonight?” I ask, then add hastily, “I’ll be back in the morning.”

“The morning?” Her tone is playful, and I imagine the knowing smirk that’ll be all over her face. “Your date is going that well, huh?”

“Not like that,” I interject. “But something’s come up.”

“You’re gonna have to give me a little more to go on than that,” she says. “What if something happens to you? I’ll need a name and a photo at least. I’m not covering for you to stay out without details.”

It’ll be tricky to give her information I don’t know myself. All I really know for sure is that they’re definitely the Basilisks. No one can fake voices like theirs.

“They— he’s — not a stranger.”

She clicks her tongue impatiently. “You’re gonna have to do better than that if you want me to break the rules for you again.”

Urgh, I didn’t want to tell her who my date was with, but I’m going to have to for her cooperation. Plus, if it turns out my favorite heavy metal band leads a creepy double life, it’s better for someone to know about it.

“I’m with Ripper, okay?” I whisper, although there’s no reason to. “You know, Ripper from the—”

“Ripper?” she shrieks, followed by the tap of beads bouncing off the floor. “Shit! Sorry, I was making a necklace and now… anyway, do you mean your Ripper? As in the Basilisks Ripper?”

“He’s not mine,” I point out, “but yeah, that Ripper. We met at their gig and got talking. He asked me to come along to hear them rehearse, and they’ve asked me to go with them to a performance tonight.”

There’s silence and tapping of keys.

“It checks out,” Cookies says a few seconds later, “it looks like they’re performing tonight at a private party.”

“Did you just search for it?” I ask in disbelief. “I’m not making this up.”

“I had to check,” Cookie says defensively, then sighs. “Are you sure about this, Ash? I know you’re a super fan and all, but staying the night with them is a stretch. Do you know more about them after today? Like, I don’t know… what they look like?”

“Well, no,” I admit. “They’re still wearing their masks, but it’s all about the music. I’ve heard their newest album and helped them out. It’s been amazing! Come on, you know how much this means to me.”

“I’m not sure about this, Ash,” she pauses for a few seconds and sighs, “but I’ll do it for you. As long as you give me hourly texts to let me know you’re still alive and let me track your location.”

“Fine,” I agree. “I owe you.”

“Yeah, you do,” she says. “If Jacqueline or any of the staff finds out about this, you’re out. You understand that, right?”

“They won’t.”

My schedule is free tomorrow, and the other campers are still reeling from the Popstarz news to notice my lack of presence. As long as I make an appearance in the mess hall tomorrow, they’ll never know that I’ve been off-site.

“I’ll say you’re sick if anyone asks,” Cookie says. “That you ate a dodgy falafel and are glued to the toilet.”

I snort. “Do what you have to do.”

“You will be safe, right?”

“Of course,” I say. “It’s just a show, Cookie.”

“So, what are the Basilisks like?” Cookie presses. “Are they everything you thought they’d be?”

“I’m gonna leave you to finish making your necklace,” I say, swerving her question. They aren’t exactly what I expected, they’re better. So much better. They actually see me as a real artist and care about my input. “Thanks for everything, and I’ll text you later.”

“You can’t get out of it that easily,” Cookie objects. “I want all the details when you get back.”

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