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Excerpt from Harmony by Carolyn Parkhurst, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

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Harmony by Carolyn Parkhurst

Harmony

by Carolyn Parkhurst
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  • First Published:
  • Aug 2, 2016, 288 pages
  • Paperback:
  • Jun 2017, 288 pages
  • Reviewed by BookBrowse Book Reviewed by:
    Norah Piehl
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Print Excerpt


In the episode we watched in the hotel room, the question that Steve and Blue were trying to answer was, "What does Blue want to build?"

"Probably a doggy door," Tilly said, "so she can finally escape from this madhouse," and we both laughed. But after that, we sat there quietly and watched like we were three years old again, and our parents didn't make us turn it off until Blue and Steve had found all the clues they needed to solve the puzzle.

It's almost four o'clock by the time we get to Camp Harmony. The sign where you turn in is wrong; it still says "Kozy Kabins," which I guess is what it used to be called here before Scott bought it. Tilly freaks out for a minute, thinking that we're lost, but then we see Scott walking toward the car, so we know we're in the right place. Scott's a big guy, taller than my dad and kind of muscly, with dark hair that's always slicked into place, even if he's just wearing shorts and a T-shirt, like now. My parents have this joke about him being good-looking, like my dad will say, "Oh, he uses hair product—you think that's handsome?" and my mom will say, "You know your zipper's down?" and my dad will say, "Oh, a zipped-up fly—you think that's handsome?" and they'll both laugh. I love times like that, when they're getting along and having fun together. (And honestly, I think my dad is better looking than Scott Bean, but whatever.) Scott's pretty nice, I guess. We met him a bunch of times in DC, and he always had good ideas for games to play with us. He doesn't have any kids of his own, though, so I don't really get why people go to him for advice about being a parent.

My dad stops the car, and everything is suddenly quiet. Scott walks over and opens my mom's door, then leans in and puts a hand on the door frame.

"Welcome, Hammond family," he says, grinning. He has a deep voice, like a guy on a radio morning show.

"Hey," I say. Tilly doesn't say anything except, "Finally, we can get out."

"Are we the first ones here?" my mom asks.

"You are indeed," says Scott, stepping back so she can get out.

"The Ruffins are arriving tomorrow; the Goughs were supposed to be here already, but I got a message from Rick that they had some car trouble in Connecticut, and they're running behind."

The rest of us have gotten out by now, and we're all just stretching and looking around. We're standing in a circular driveway, made out of gray pebbles. Behind us, there's a row of little cottages, painted different colors, and in front of us there's a big stretch of grass with a couple of buildings, and a path leading down to the lake. It's pretty, I guess, but everything feels sort of run-?down and empty.

I think that when Tilly gets out of the car, it finally occurs to her what a big deal this is. "This is it?" she asks. "This is where we're actually going to be living?"

Scott's just finishing up hugging my mom and shaking my dad's hand, and now he crouches down between me and Tilly and puts an arm around each of us.

"Girls," he says, in a low voice. My mom and dad can probably hear what he's saying, but it's supposed to seem like it's just for us. "Don't worry, okay? I know this feels crazy and huge, but I promise: it's going to be great."

Then he just stays where he is, looking between the two of us, like he's waiting for an answer. I sort of nod and shrug; Tilly shakes him off and starts walking around in circles, tapping her cheeks really fast, like she does when she gets anxious.

"No," she says. She stops in front of my parents and grabs hold of Mom's shoulders. I can see my mom sag a little bit from the weight Tilly's putting on her. "I'm not going to live here. Take me home."

My mom doesn't answer, just gently disentangles herself. "So which one of these is ours?" she asks Scott, gesturing to the row of colorful cabins.

Excerpted from Harmony by Carolyn Parkhurst. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

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