Page 9 of Disharmony

“Yes,” he insists. “We do.”

“Let’s get this over with quickly,” I mutter.

I hop out and awkwardly attempt to smile by the sign. By the time Dad works out how to use the camera, I’m scowling. But, despite my aching jaw, I appreciate the gesture. He’s trying to incorporate Mom’s traditions into my next chapter. If she were here, she’d be the one behind the camera.

When Dad is finally satisfied I’ve not blinked in the shot, we continue the drive up the wooded road. Huge trees line the path, making it seem like we’re crossing into another world that’s separate from reality. Apart from the branches ruffling above, it’s hard to hear the stream of racing cars from the highway.

We pull into the parking lot. It’s a hive of activity, filled with parents waving campers goodbye and people struggling to carry instruments. A wooden arch adorned with a Camp Harmony sign stands at the entrance, and the check-in kiosk beneath it commands my attention. Despite it being an exclusive camp renowned for making the best musicians of all time, it still keeps the rustic feel of the all-American summer camp that was once based here. I squint against the sun, catching a glimpse of gabled cabins peeking through the trees. One of those cabins will be my new home.

Neither of us speak as we unload the bags from the car.

“Well, I guess this is it then,” Dad says finally. He watches me pull my backpack on. It’s hard to balance, but he knows better than to offer his help. I got my independence from my mom, and you never win an argument with a Cooper woman. “You call me soon.”

“I will,” I promise. “Text me when you get home safe, okay?”

“Damn technology,” he grumbles under his breath. He hasn’t stepped into the twenty-first century yet and, even though he’ll deny it, he’s still scared of cell phones melting his brain. “You have your pepper spray?”

“Take a look around.” I’m in the middle of a gorgeous forest surrounded by people with a passion for music. This is paradise. What could go wrong? His head swivels around, but he doesn’t look convinced, so I hastily add, “But yes, I have the pepper spray.”

He nods and smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. “Good.”

Returning to an empty house won’t be easy for him. I’m only gone a few months, but knowing he’ll be alone makes me feel a pang of guilt—even though this is what I have to do.

I lurch forward like a bulky turtle, almost knocking him over to give him a hug. He pats my back. He isn’t a physically affectionate type, but this is as good a time to hug as any.

“It’s only a few months,” he says, pulling away and clearing his throat. Both of us know a lot can happen in a few months. We’ve learned that the hard way. “You call me if you have any trouble, and I’ll bring you straight home.”

I salute. “Got it, Chief.”

“No drinking, and stay away from the boys, you hear me?” Thankfully, we are far enough away from any other unloading campers to overhear. “Those creative musical types are bad news.”

“C’mon, Dad.” I raise an eyebrow. “Aren’t you forgetting how you and Mom met?”

Before his life revolved around his badge, he played bass in a grunge band. After graduating high school, his band bought a van and hit the road. They spent the summer performing at small venues in different cities. That’s how he first met my mom. She’d also been performing at one of the shows, and he fell for her that night. He said he knew he’d marry her from the moment she opened her mouth. She had the voice of an angel.

“That was different,” he points out unconvincingly. If he had his way, I’d be shipped off to a monastery. Not that he had anything to worry about in that regard. I’m at camp to concentrate on my music. Guys are the last thing on my mind. My last conversation with Brick only proves how much romance can complicate things. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

He gets into the car and lowers the window. He looks like he wants to say more but changes his mind. A hug is about as much emotion as he can handle in a day. If Brick’s mom hadn’t reassured me that she’d check in to make sure he was eating properly, he’d survive on nothing but take-out.

As he drives away, I wave and watch him disappear. Dang! It’s finally starting to hit that I’m really here. The whole thing is as surreal as stepping into the Great Hall at Hogwarts.

Take it in, Ash. I have one chance. This experience is the first day of the rest of my life. You’ve finally made it.

* * *

A friendly woman at the welcome kiosk motions me over. After giving her my details, she hands me an open map and keys with a huge smile on her face.

“Your cabin’s right here,” she says, pointing to a spot on the map and drawing a squiggly line for me to follow. “It’s not far to walk. Do you think you’ll be able to manage your bags?

“Yeah, no problem at all,” I say. I pack light. Apart from a few clothes and essentials, my voice is the only thing I need. “Thanks for your help.”

I’m a full scholarship student, but it doesn’t give me any of the extra luxuries Camp Harmony offers. I learned from my research that VIP campers—the wealthy offspring of the musicians and movie stars who are rumored to attend—have single-occupancy cabins and a bellhop to carry their luggage.

The woman lowers her sunglasses to reveal twinkling blue eyes. She can’t be much older than me. “This is your first summer here, isn’t it?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” she says, with a wink. “I’m Claudia. I work in the kitchens.”

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