Camp Rock (5 page)

“H
ey, Mom,” Mitchie greeted her mother dreamily as she entered the kitchen. “How ya doing?”

Connie looked up from chopping a head of iceberg lettuce. “I'm all right,” she said, amused by her daughter's mood. “How are you?”

“I'm great,” Mitchie said, tying on her apron. “Fantastic. Wonderful. I'm—”

“—putting those chips in bowls,” her mother instructed.

“Right.” Mitchie headed to the pantry just as

Caitlyn entered.

“Caitlyn,” said Connie. “Thanks for coming in early. Taco night takes our six hands.”

“Six?” Caitlyn asked, seeing only herself and Connie.

“My daughter,” Connie explained. “So can you get started on the onions? Brown wants to talk to me about next week's campfire pig-out.”

“Sure,” said Caitlyn, putting on an apron and trying to get excited.

Thanking her, Connie left to find Brown, just as Mitchie reentered from the pantry with another big bag of chips. She spotted Caitlyn in just enough time to raise the bag to cover her face.

“Hey, you must be hands five and six,” Caitlyn joked. “I didn't know Connie had a daughter. I'm Caitlyn.”

Mitchie remained silent, afraid her voice would betray her. Instead, the bag of chips silently nodded hello. Mitchie's mind raced as she tried to plot an escape.

“Need some help?” Caitlyn asked.

The bag of chips shook no and backed toward the door. Turning, Mitchie bolted.

But she didn't get far. She ran smack into a bucket full of soapy water. With a shriek, Mitchie tripped and fell, spilling chips everywhere.

“Mitchie?” Caitlyn asked, running up.

Mitchie looked at Caitlyn but remained mute. She didn't know what to say or how to explain. It wouldn't sound right.

“Wait a minute,” Caitlyn said, suddenly realizing what was going on. “You're the cook's daughter,” she said incredulously. “She's your mom? Oh, this is rich … but apparently you're not.”

“So, what are you waiting for?” Mitchie exclaimed, visibly upset. “Run. Go tell everybody.”

Caitlyn folded her arms across her chest and looked down at Mitchie. “Maybe I should.”

“Fine,” Mitchie declared. “Whatever.” She got up and started to uselessly wring out her shirt, sending bits of chips flying.

Caitlyn gave her a hard look. “How long did you think you could keep your little secret?”

“Longer than this,” Mitchie grumbled.

Bending down, Mitchie began picking chips up off the floor. The room was silent save for the occasional crunch of a chip as it broke in Mitchie's shaking hands.

“Why?” Caitlyn finally asked.

“Why do you care?” Mitchie responded curtly.

“I don't,” Caitlyn said. “But when I tell everybody, I want the whole back story.”

Mitchie narrowed her eyes. “I just wanted to fit in, okay?” Why can't the ground open up and swallow me completely? she thought.

“I think your whole charade is stupid and immature,” Caitlyn announced. “Hiding behind some crazy lie.”

“You hide, too,” Mitchie said, suddenly defensive. “The ‘I don't care about anything' attitude. If you don't care, why are you here?”

There was a moment of recognition between the two girls, a common ground they hadn't seen before. But the moment ended when Connie entered and got an eyeful of Mitchie's wet clothes.

“What happened to you?” she asked, startled.

“She drowned in her lies,” Caitlyn muttered to herself.

“What?” Connie asked.

Mitchie looked at Caitlyn out of the corner of her eye, waiting for her to spell it all out for her mother—that her daughter was embarrassed about being the cook's daughter and had lied—to everyone.

Caitlyn returned Mitchie's look. “Nothing,” she said, and then left the kitchen.

T
ess ignored her lunch and flipped through the latest issue of a pop-star magazine. A picture of Shane caught her eye, and she stopped to quickly scan the article.

“Says here,” Tess said, “I'm Shane's type. It's just a matter of time.”

At that moment, Caitlyn walked by and glanced down at the glossy magazine. She saw Shane's description of what he was looking for
in a girl.

“ ‘Warm, funny, talented,' ” she read. She looked back at Tess. “You?”

Tess's blue eyes glared at Caitlyn, cold as ice, and she closed the magazine. Satisfied with the reaction, Caitlyn continued on and sat down at a nearby table, opening her laptop.

“Hey, guys. What are you doing?” Mitchie came up and sat next to Peggy and Ella. She took a bite of food.

“The question is what were you doing?” Tess asked, crossing her arms. “You're always AWOL.”

“Huh?” Mitchie asked, feigning ignorance.

“Hey, Mitchie,” Ella said, unwittingly coming to the rescue. “I was thinking, after camp, maybe we can come to visit you and your mom in China and go to that Happy Summer store.”

“Uh, sure,” she mumbled, then saw Caitlyn sitting alone, within earshot. Caitlyn was staring at her. Mitchie waited for her to say something, but she stayed silent. Mitchie was relieved … for the moment.

Tess, her annoyance apparently over, turned
to the group. “Okay guys, tonight is the Pajama Jam. So, outfit check: green tees and white shorts.” She noticed the girls' confused looks. “What? Green is Shane's favorite color. It was in the magazine!”

Pajama Jam was in full swing. Campers were dressed in an assortment of sleepwear: nightgowns, robes, pajama sets, boxer shorts, one guy was even wearing a fleece pajama suit complete with feet. In the middle of it all, a couple of counselors did the last steps in an intricate dance routine that ended to much applause.

As the sound of clapping died down, Mitchie appeared in the planned combo: green T-shirt and white shorts. As she searched for the girls in the crowd, she passed Caitlyn.

“The other lemmings are over there,” Caitlyn noted sarcastically. She pointed to where Ella and Peggy stood in identical outfits.

Mitchie felt bad. She hated lying. It made her feel awful. But what could she do? If her secret got out … “Look, Caitlyn, about—”

Caitlyn cut her off. “Save it, Mitchie… If that's even your real name.”

Giving up, Mitchie went to join Peggy and Ella. The three were laughing at Brown's pajamas when Tess came up. She was not wearing the required green T-shirt and white shorts. Instead, she wore a short green nightgown.

“Are we ready?” she asked, smoothing her straps.

“Where's your T-shirt and shorts?” asked Mitchie, annoyed.

“Yeah, I thought we were going to wear the same thing,” Peggy said.

“The backup singers should wear the same thing,” explained Tess impatiently. “Not the lead singer. Hello?”

Peggy was about to say more when Dee took the mike. “Next up, Caitlyn.” Her voice reverberated over the sound system.

Walking onto the stage, Caitlyn plugged her computer into the speakers and began to mix music and play the keyboard. Like most of the campers there, she was good. Really good, and Mitchie said so.

Tess said nothing and glowered at Caitlyn onstage.

“Hey, Shane likes her, too,” Ella observed.

The girls turned to see that Shane had joined the crowd and was watching. He nodded his head to the music, oblivious to the stares from the girls around him.

Tess looked from Shane, to Caitlyn onstage, then back at Shane.

“Help!” she suddenly screamed at the top of her lungs. “Help! Snake!”

Everyone turned to Tess. Caitlyn, suddenly without an audience, stopped the music. Tess pointed to something coiled up at the edge of the lake nearby.

“Snake!” she screeched again.

Dee ran over, but when she saw Tess's “snake,” she relaxed. “That's the swim line, Tess,” she said, irritated.

“Oh, right.” Tess put her hand to her heart and tried to look innocent. “My bad.”

Shaking her head, Dee left to check on the next performer.

Tess turned to Mitchie, Ella, and Peggy. “Sure looked like a snake.” She shrugged smugly.

“You're so full of it.” It was Caitlyn's voice. She had left the stage and was standing, her arms crossed, glaring at Tess.

“What's your problem?” Tess asked.

Caitlyn was steaming. “You.” She practically spat out the word. “I know what you just did.”

“What?” Tess said, taunting Caitlyn.

Caitlyn's nostrils flared as she tried to control her anger. “You can't stand that people might actually like what other people do.”

“You mean your little duet with your laptop?” Tess sneered. “Uh, Boringville called. They want their leader back.” She laughed, and Ella and Peggy joined in. Mitchie stayed silent.

“You make me so ill,” said Caitlyn, who looked like she might really enjoy throwing up all over Tess's designer shoes.

Tess made an elaborate hand gesture. She put up three fingers, and waving her wrist, formed a

W , E, M, and L.

“Okay, what is that?” Caitlyn asked.

“She said, ‘whatever, major loser',” Ella explained proudly.

The girls laughed again, and even though she tried to hide it, Caitlyn was clearly hurt. Mitchie could see it. And she could also see that Tess didn't care. Not one tiny bit. It made Mitchie feel ill, too.

“Wow, Tess,” Mitchie blurted before she knew what she was saying. “ ‘Whatever, major loser' is so last year. Everyone knows that … Well, I guess not everyone.”

This time, Mitchie laughed. Ella and Peggy joined in, unable to help themselves. Tess, taken off balance by this turning of the tables, stormed away.

Looking over, Caitlyn gave the briefest of nods, just short of a “thank you.”

I
n the kitchen the next day, Mitchie and Caitlyn blew up balloons for that night's theme party in silence. Connie entered, holding a large cookie with a hole in the center. “Do these look like records?” she asked hopefully.

“Huh?” Mitchie grunted, confused.

“I mean CDs,” Connie corrected herself for the twenty-first century. “Do these cookies look like CDs? I want to make sure they look authentic next to my ‘quarter-note cupcakes.' ”

“Everything looks great, Connie!” Caitlyn reassured her as she tied off another balloon.

“These theme nights are the busiest,” Connie said, shaking her head. “Oh! I'd better go get the ice cream.” She rushed off, leaving the two girls alone again.

They both maintained their awkward silence, until Mitchie finally broke. “Did you sign up for Final Jam?” she asked.

Caitlyn nodded.

“So what are you going to do?”

Caitlyn looked suspiciously at Mitchie. “This is freaking me out. Why are we talking?”

“I don't know. Maybe I'm slumming,” Mitchie said teasingly. She reached out and popped one of Caitlyn's balloons. Mitchie laughed. “Or maybe I wanted to set you up for that.”

“Hey!” Caitlyn cried, but her scowl had softened into a smile. She grabbed a balloon and whacked Mitchie over the head. There was a brief, stunned pause before both girls burst into laughter and began whacking each other on the head and arms with the inflated balloons.

They finally settled into contented giggles.

Then, Caitlyn surprised Mitchie by saying, “It's fun being friends with Tess.”

“How would you know?” Mitchie asked.

“Because I was friends with Tess,” Caitlyn explained. Catching Mitchie's skeptical look, she went on. “I know. Hard to believe.”

“More like impossible. What happened?”

Caitlyn gave a heavy sigh. “Tess doesn't like competition and she felt I was,” she explained. “With her, there can only be one star—herself. I know it's cool being her friend. I mean, she can make you feel so important. And she's popular, but so what?”

“Oh, come on.” Mitchie rolled her eyes. “Being popular is so not a ‘so what.'”

“No,” Caitlyn admitted. “There are perks.”

“Like … like …” Mitchie tried to think of one.

“Like singing backup for Tess all the time,” Caitlyn offered. “Like never getting to say what you really feel. Oh, and those exciting shorts outfits?” She laughed. “Those were real high points. You're right. Sell your soul.”

Mitchie halfheartedly hit Caitlyn with a balloon. But Caitlyn made some good points. Was being popular worth all of Tess's heckling?

“Hey,” Caitlyn said, “I'm on your side.”

Mitchie smiled and then noticed the time on the wall clock. She jumped up. “Shoot!” she exclaimed. “I was supposed to go meet—”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow.

“We're practicing for the Final Jam,” Mitchie said defensively.

Caitlyn made a mock flourish. “Of course. Her Highness awaits.”

Mitchie grabbed her things and guiltily headed to meet Tess and the girls. Caitlyn's words were ringing in her ears.

S
hane was also practicing. He'd been writing in his room all day. Since he'd heard that girl's song outside the mess hall, he couldn't shake it. Absentmindedly, he began to strum the song on his guitar.

His strumming was interrupted by the loud shrill of his cell phone. The caller ID told him it was Nate. Putting the phone to his ear, he heard the sounds of splashing and shrieking. His bandmates were obviously enjoying themselves poolside.

“So, how's my birdhouse coming?” Jason asked over the speakerphone.

On the other end of the line, Shane rolled his eyes. He was not in the mood for this. “Guys—” he began.

“Sorry,” Nate and Jason said in unison.

Another girl shrieked in the background and Shane winced. It was nothing like the soothing sounds of his mystery girl. Suddenly, Nate's words from the limo came back to him, and a smile spread across Shane's face.

“About me recording with a camper—” he began.

“You gotta do it, man,” Nate said. “No go-backs.”

“Actually, I've been thinking,” Shane went on, much to his bandmate's surprise. “And I think it's cool.”

“Man, are you feeling okay?” Nate asked.

“Are you getting too much sun?”

“I'm fine,” Shane said. “And remember, whoever wins, no go-backs.”

Shane hung up before the guys could answer. “Now, I just have to find that girl from the mess hall,” he said aloud to himself.

Glancing out the room's window, he saw Andy practicing a dance move. Hmm … maybe he could help.

Shane headed outside and made his way over to Andy. “Hey, buddy,” Shane said. “You wanna do me a favor?”

M
oments later, Andy was whispering Shane's message into a girl's ear. “The girl with the voice,” he said mysteriously.

Nodding excitedly, she immediately rushed to tell her friends. By afternoon, the rumor mill was working at full tilt. Shane smiled as he walked past a group of whispering campers. His plan was working. He would get to the bottom of the mystery voice—even if it meant using his pop-star pull. If “the voice” knew Shane was looking for her, she would have to come to him, right?

But then, out of nowhere a girl ran up, stopping abruptly in front of him and belting out the words to his first hit song.

She finished the chorus and looked at him hopefully. Shane smiled but shook his head. Nope, not her.

Another girl approached, this one with an operatic voice. Again, Shane shook his head.

Soon, a line had formed in front of Shane. It seemed every girl at Camp Rock was trying out. They all wanted to be “the girl with the voice.”

Mitchie and Caitlyn, leaving the mess hall, stood and watched all the nervous girls practice their scales and warm up their voices.

“Aren't you going to get in line?” Caitlyn teased.

“It's not me.” Mitchie shook her head emphatically. “He's never heard me sing.” How could he have? she asked silently. I don't have the guts to get up in front—I'm always just backup.

To Shane's dismay, the tryouts continued. In
the middle of that night, Shane was abruptly awakened by the sound of singing outside his window. The next day, working on his laptop in the mess hall, an instant message popped up with a streaming link of Ella singing.

But none of these voices were the one, and Shane was beginning to get discouraged.