Camp Rock (6 page)

I
t was a beautiful, sunny day, and Mitchie had decided to take the long way from the kitchen to the cabins. She was passing the lake when she thought she heard singing over the sound of birds and the lapping of water against the shore. She stopped and listened.

She recognized that voice—it was Shane's, and it was coming from a row of canoes tied to the dock. Mitchie tiptoed across the dock. Sure enough, Shane was slouched against one of the canoes, singing and jotting something on paper.

“So,” Mitchie teased, “does your voice sound
better over here?”

Shane grinned. “Why don't you get in and tell me,” he gestured to the nearest canoe.

Mitchie climbed into the rocking boat, trying not to tip it over. Shane followed and then pushed off from the dock. They drifted out to the center of the lake, but then instead of moving forward, they started going in circles.

“I don't think we're doing this right,” said Mitchie, dipping her oar into the cool, blue-green water.

“What? You don't like the circles?” he asked.

They both laughed. With the sun on her and the breeze lifting her hair, Mitchie felt herself relax. This was nice.

“So,” Mitchie said, looking over with a sly smile. “Have you found your special girl?”

Shane returned the smile.

“Jealous?” he teased.

“Jerk,” she retorted.

“Hey,” Shane protested, “being a jerk is all part of the rock star image!”

“Keeping up an image can be tiring,” Mitchie
observed, thinking back to what she'd gone through so far this summer.

Shane looked down into the still water. “But it keeps the posers away,” he observed. “I never know if people are hanging out with me for the parties or the free stuff.”

“Definitely the free stuff,” Mitchie said, joking.

Shane smiled. “It's probably the same with you, huh?” he asked.

Mitchie looked confused.

“Because of your mother and her big job. People must be fake around you, too.”

Mitchie dipped her hand in the water, letting the drops roll off her fingertips. She should tell him the truth. It was now, or never…

“Right,” she said instead, letting the moment pass. “Um, totally.”

“It's nice talking to someone who gets it,” Shane said, sounding almost shy.

“Yeah,” Mitchie replied.

Who am I kidding? Mitchie thought. Shane would never forgive me if he found out I was
just like all the other liars and fakes.

She picked up her oar and began to paddle again, oblivious to the fact that Tess had also taken the long way home. She watched Mitchie and Shane from the shore, and she was not happy.

T
ess was still fuming when she found herself walking by the kitchen entrance later. She came to a stop when she heard familiar laughing from inside. The screen door creaked open, and Tess hid behind a tree, watching as a giggling Mitchie and Caitlyn left the kitchen.

“Okay, Mom. We're done,” Mitchie said over her shoulder.

From inside, Tess heard the now-familiar voice of Connie Torres—camp cook—answer. “You girls have fun at the campfire. Thanks again.”

As Mitchie and Caitlyn ran up the path toward the campfire and the theme jam, Tess could barely contain a shout of delight. Oh, she thought, this was too good to be true. Mitchie
wasn't a star, she was the help!

The campground was full of the sounds of excited chatter mixed with the occasional song or drumbeat. Mitchie and Caitlyn had made their way from the kitchen and found a spot with Ella, Peggy, Barron, and Sander.

“Hey, I've heard talk of s'mores,” Barron said, rubbing his stomach.

“Oh, they're coming,” Mitchie assured him with a laugh. But catching Caitlyn's warning look, she added, “Um … probably.”

She was saved from further s'mores talk by the appearance of Tess. The smug look on her face was even more smug than usual as she smiled at Mitchie and asked her what was up.

“Nothing,” Mitchie replied, a bit confused.

“Are you sure?” Tess asked.

Before Mitchie could respond, though, Brown and Shane walked onto the campground's stage. The campers broke into loud applause. Brown grabbed the mike as Shane
stood off to the side.

“Hey, gang! I finally talked my nephew,” Brown smiled at Shane, “into singing us a song.”

The crowd went nuts. Mitchie smiled at Shane onstage; he smiled back. Tess caught their exchange, and her blood boiled.

Shane took the mike from Brown. “Okay, you guys, I've got a surprise.” He paused for effect. “Guys, come on out.”

From the wings, Nate and Jason walked onto the stage, instruments in hand. Although it hadn't seemed possible, the crowd went even wilder. The noise was earsplitting. Smiling, Shane hushed the crowd before going on. “We are trying something new. So, let us know what you think.”

He nodded to Nate and Jason, strummed a note on his guitar, and began to sing. The song was beautiful and different, exactly the sound Mitchie had been encouraging him to experiment with. It was one hundred percent Shane, and it was one hundred percent awesome.

Connect Three had never sounded better.

The crowd was loving it as they swayed to the music. Shane could sense their reaction and relaxed, getting even more into it. Although he seemed to be singing to the crowd, Shane was really singing to someone in particular—to Mitchie. And this was not lost on Tess.

When the song came to an end, there was a moment of silence before the audience erupted into thunderous applause. Shane smiled broadly and looked at Mitchie, whose smile was even bigger.

“Man, they loved it,” Nate observed from up on the stage. “You were right.”

Jason, mistakenly thinking Nate was talking to him, responded, “I know I was right.” Then his brow furrowed. “What did I do?”

“Not you,” Nate said. “Shane.” Looking over at his bandmate, he added, “The label has to let us do this.”

But Shane wasn't sure, and he said so.

Nate wasn't ready to give up, though. “We can hit the studio tonight and get them a demo by tomorrow. They can't say no once they hear it.”

Shane nodded, but his attention was not on the demo. He was looking across at Mitchie. “I can't just leave,” he said finally. “I'm not finished here.”

Following his gaze, Nate saw Mitchie, and a smile spread across his face. He understood. Shane had to do what he had to do. Promising they would see him at Final Jam, Nate and Jason left, and Shane made his way to Mitchie.

Tess, meanwhile, saw Shane going over and then saw Connie nearby. This was her chance. It was act now, or never be the star. Taking a deep breath, she turned to Mitchie and in a loud voice, asked, “Mitchie, tell us about your mom again.”

Hearing Tess, some campers turned. Connie, also within earshot, paused and listened. Mitchie felt like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Her mom is a great person,” Caitlyn said, jumping to Mitchie's rescue. “What's your mom like?” she asked, turning to Barron.

Barron was confused. “Um, she's like, a mom.”

But Tess wasn't going to be swayed. She had zeroed in on Mitchie and wouldn't let her go until she was finished. “I mean, I know she's president of Hot Tunes TV China,” she went on, louder this time. “But tell me again about how important she is.”

Now everyone was listening. Connie looked at Tess and then at Mitchie. Mitchie dropped her head, ashamed. All eyes were on her. Brown and Dee, by the stage, exchanged confused looks.

Mitchie began to speak in a low, almost inaudible voice, “She … uh … she …” she squeaked.

“I'm sorry, what?” Tess egged her on.

“She … uh … she's pretty cool,” Mitchie said, a little louder.

Tess was relishing this. “And?” she prompted.

“And … uh …” Mitchie stammered. She looked for her mother, to try to make her understand that she hadn't meant to hurt her, but Connie had vanished. “She's not president of Hot Tunes TV China.” Mitchie finally exhaled.

Tess faked shock. “What's that? She's not president? You mean you … lied? To everybody?”

“No,” Mitchie said, trying to think how to explain this.

A ripple went through the crowd.

“So, she's what?” Tess continued. “Vice President? Treasurer?”

The kids waited breathlessly for Mitchie's answer.

“Tess,” Caitlyn said sternly, having heard enough.

Tess shot Caitlyn a look. “Go on. Tell us.” She bullied Mitchie.

Mitchie was almost in tears. “She's a cook,” she said, wanting to swallow the words.

“A cook? At Hot Tunes China?” Tess said, in mock confusion.

“No. Here,” Mitchie said, her shoulders
slumped in humiliation and defeat.

This was all Tess wanted to hear. Her face broke into a satisfied grin.

“So, you lied,” Tess said again to Mitchie. “Your mom cooks our food. And you help her. That's the only way you can afford this camp, right?”

Mitchie stood dumbfounded. She was embarrassed and ashamed at the truth, but mostly at herself for lying.

“You're a real jerk,” Caitlyn hissed.

“Maybe,” answered Tess. “But I'm not a big, fat liar.” She pinned Mitchie with her eyes, then turned to Peggy and Ella. “Come on,” she commanded.

Peggy and Ella gave Mitchie one last disappointed look before turning and following Tess. The other campers whispered among themselves. Mitchie could hear the words, “liar,” “that's really sad,” and “poser,” drifting through the crowd. Some campers giggled and laughed.

“Mitchie …” Caitlyn started, moving to
comfort her.

“It's okay.” Mitchie shrugged her off. Shane, who'd heard everything, had just stepped in front of her. “Shane …” she started, tears welling up in her eyes.

“You were lying?” he asked, his voice hard.

“Yes, but I—”

“Wow,” he said coldly. “You know, I'm used to people pretending around me—”

“I wasn't pretending,” Mitchie interrupted, wishing she could explain. The last person she'd wanted to hurt was Shane.

“I really thought you were different. But you're just like everyone else. You wanted to be friends with ‘Shane Gray,' not me. Trick's on me, huh?” He gave a forced laugh.

“I was just trying to—”

“Save it for your interview with Star Scoop magazine,” he said. “I know I gave you an earful.”

Shane kicked at the grass and walked away, his guitar slung heavily over his shoulder. As Mitchie watched him go, the tears finally began to fall, salty and heavy.

“Not here, you don't,” said Caitlyn. She grabbed Mitchie by the hand and whisked her away.

T
he next day, Shane sat on the porch of the director's cabin, gloomily strumming his guitar. He should have known better. Mitchie had seemed too good to be true because she was.

Looking up, he saw Brown ambling toward the cabin. What he didn't see was Tess, who had come to comfort him in his time of need. Catching sight of Brown, she dropped behind and listened, hidden in the shadows.

“So what happened last night?” Brown asked when he got to the porch.

“Nothing,” Shane said shortly.

“It didn't look like nothing, mate. You looked crushed, pummeled, absolutely destroyed.”

“I get it, Uncle Brown,” Shane responded.

He had been there and didn't need a refresher. “I'm just going to focus on my music. Change my sound. I don't need to get sidetracked with liking someone too much, anyway.”

Brown frowned. “Are you still looking for that girl?” he asked.

Shane gave him a surprised look.

Brown shrugged. “I'm plugged in to camp gossip.”

“It's crazy,” said Shane, still picking at the strings on his guitar. “Her song is stuck in my head.” He sang a few lines and then faded into silence.

Tess, still hidden in the shadows, furrowed her brow. She'd heard those lyrics before. But where?

M
oments later, Tess was back in her cabin and lifting Mitchie's mattress from the bed frame. Bingo! Underneath lay Mitchie's song-book. Tess pulled it out and flipped through the pages. Then she found it—the song Shane had been singing on the porch.

Tess read through the lyrics once, twice.

Suddenly, it all made sense. Mitchie was the girl with the voice! But if Shane found out …

Tess thought for a second. Then she looked at her charm bracelet and back at the book. A sly smile spread across her face. She had a brilliant idea.

W
hile Tess was scheming, Mitchie and Connie were walking … in silence. Finally Connie spoke. “I didn't know you felt so ashamed of yourself,” she said sadly.

“I'm not ashamed,” Mitchie said, and she meant it. “It's just that for once I wanted to fit in, be popular.”

“What do you mean?” Connie said, turning to look at her daughter with concern. “You have plenty of friends at home.”

Mitchie gave her a look. “I have one. And last

I checked nobody was busting their butts to sit at the lunch table with us. When I got here, I wanted to have a different experience, just once.”

She thought she'd cried herself dry, but Mitchie started to tear up again.

“Oh, sweetie,” Connie said, pushing the hair from her daughter's forehead, “you are so much more than you see. You don't need to lie about who or what you are.”

Mitchie gave her a forlorn look. She'd heard this talk before. Heck, she'd written songs about it herself!

“And I'm not just saying that because I'm your mother,” Connie protested.

“Mom?”

“Okay, I admit I am biased. But it's true! You are talented. Your music speaks to people. People want to listen to you … and it's not just me and your dad!”

Mitchie smiled. If only she could believe that.

* * *

Campers milled around, waiting for Shane's dance class to start. He was late … again. They were laughing and still talking about the previous night. Then Mitchie entered, and the studio went silent except for a few muffled laughs.

Tess turned to Ella but spoke loud enough for Mitchie to hear. “What a joke,” she said, rolling her eyes and turning her back on her old cabin-mate and “friend.”

As other campers laughed, Mitchie tried to act like she wasn't bothered, but inside she wanted to die.

Finally, Shane entered, and the class settled down. “So,” he said, looking at Mitchie before quickly turning away, “Final Jam is coming up and I know you're all excited.”

A chorus of “yeps” and “you know its” went up in response.

“Here is some advice,” continued Shane. “It's not all about your image. None of it means anything unless people see who you really are.” Now he looked directly at Mitchie. “Your music has to be who you really are. It's got to say what you feel. Or it doesn't mean anything.”

Mitchie lowered her eyes and held back the tears.

Shane had made his point.

L
ater that afternoon, Mitchie picked her way through the crowded mess hall and finally took a seat at the table with Caitlyn, Lola, Barron, and Sander.

“You know, sitting with the kitchen help is really hurting my rep,” Barron stated.

Mitchie started to apologize but then Lola spoke up. “What rep?” she asked, joking, and Mitchie breathed a sigh of relief. At least some people were talking to her.

But then Tess laughed at something from across the room, and Mitchie's shoulders tensed. “Believe me,” Caitlyn said, “it's probably not that funny.”

Abruptly, Tess got up and crossed the room, trailed by Peggy and Ella. She stopped when she reached Mitchie.

“The chicken was kind of dry,” Tess said in a
loud voice. Then, to Mitchie, “Who should I report that to?”

“Maybe it wasn't the chicken,” said Lola with an attitude. “Maybe your mouth is dry from all the hot air coming out of it.”

A few campers raised their eyebrows, but Tess didn't respond. Instead, she said to Mitchie, “Can you tell your mom to be a little more careful?”

Her insult successfully delivered, Tess turned to strut away.

As she watched Tess go, Mitchie found the strength she'd been looking for. She stood up.

“Tess?” Mitchie said in an unwavering voice. Tess turned and shot Mitchie a look that dared her to say something. “Stop talking to me like that,” Mitchie continued defiantly. “Stop talking to everyone like that. I may be the cook's daughter, my father may not be rich, but I am a much better person than someone who feels better about herself because she makes everyone else feel bad. And I'll take that any day.”

The room had grown silent. Everyone was staring at Tess, whose cheeks were becoming bright pink. But always the consummate actress, she quickly regained her composure.

“Make something good for dinner,” she hissed. “I'll be starving after practice. And by the way, if it wasn't obvious, you're soout of the group.” Tess tossed her head and turned on her heel to go. Peggy and Ella followed dutifully.

Behind her, Caitlyn gave Mitchie a warm smile.

“Then we'll make our own group,” said Caitlyn.

Mitchie nodded. She may have lost her social status, but being herself again was worth it.

A
crowd was gathering behind him as Brown stapled a poster to the bulletin board outside the Mess Hall of Fame. In bright letters, it announced something the entire camp had been buzzing about since the first day:
FINAL JAM: 5 DAYS.

For the next few days, camp was filled with the sounds of preparation. Groups sang, danced, drummed, and jumped as they got their groove on for the big jam. Tess, Ella, and Peggy were sweating as they drilled through their choreography. They weren't getting very far, however, as Tess stopped them every eight counts to chew the other girls out for one mistake or another.

Two days later, Brown had tacked up a 3 to cover the 5 on the poster. Three days till Final Jam, and on the campgrounds, Sander and Barron were practicing their rapping. In the Vibe Cabin, Tess was still lecturing an annoyed Peggy and Ella on their routine.

Two more days down, and Brown had replaced the 3 with a 1. It was the day before Final Jam, and Mitchie and Caitlyn quickly put away groceries so they could go practice their routine. When they were done in the kitchen, they went to the lake. They wanted all the practice they could get.

Later that day, Mitchie and Caitlyn were ready. Back in the kitchen, they were telling Connie a story as they stirred big vats of macaroni and cheese. Just then, the door flew open. It was Tess, followed by Brown.

“I'm sure they have it,” Tess said, pointing an
accusing finger first at Mitchie and then at Caitlyn.

The girls looked at one another, clueless as to what Tess was talking about. “Okay, she has officially lost it,” Caitlyn said.

“No, I didn't lose anything,” Tess insisted. “You stole it.”

“What?” Mitchie asked.

Connie was just as confused. “What is going on here?” she asked.

Brown, who had been standing silently while Tess threw accusations, finally stepped forward. Taking a deep breath, he ran a hand over his light brown hair before speaking. “Tess thinks that Mitchie and Caitlyn took her charm bracelet.”

“What?!” the two girls exclaimed at once.

Mitchie's mom shook her head confidently. “I'm sorry, Brown, but the girls would never do such a thing.”

“Look,” Brown said calmly, “let's just settle this.” He thought if Tess looked for her “stolen” charm bracelet and could not find it, this would end quickly.

“But—” Mitchie protested. She hadn't taken anything!

Tess was still glaring and pointing at her. “I know it was her. She was lying all summer about who she is. Who knows what else she'd lie about?”

“Okay,” said Brown, noting Caitlyn's angry stare and Mitchie's red cheeks. “We'll look here first and then in your cabin.”

“Fine,” Mitchie shrugged.

“Whatever,” Caitlyn said between clenched teeth.

Glancing around the cluttered kitchen, Brown finally stepped up to the counter. He began opening drawers filled with utensils and cookware.

“See, you're not going to find anything, because we didn't—” Mitchie started to protest again, but stopped as Brown pulled something shiny from under a stack of cookbooks.

“That's my bracelet!” cried a triumphant Tess.

“There must be some mistake,” said Connie.

“Like what? I snuck into the kitchen and left an expensive bracelet under a coq au vin recipe?” Tess said sarcastically.

“Tess, I got this,” Brown said sternly. Turning to Mitchie and Caitlyn, he added, “I am totally wigging out.” His wrinkled brow confirmed his dismay.

“So are we,” said Mitchie.

“I'm not,” Caitlyn snapped. She should have known that Tess would stop at nothing to get what she wanted, which was Mitchie out of her hair.

Brown sighed. “Since it's the end of camp, I have no choice. I've got to ban you guys from the rest of camp activities … until the end of Final Jam.”

“She's lying!” Mitchie cried. “We didn't do anything!”

“I'm sorry. My hands are tied,” Brown said, sounding sincere. “Until the end of Final Jam,” he repeated. Then, with one last parting look, he left.

Following behind him, Tess shot the girls an infuriating smirk that said it all. She had done exactly what she had come to do. Mission accomplished.