Camp Rock

by Lucy Ruggles

  “I hope so,” the first one said. “Gift to my ears.”

  They laughed, unaware that Shane had heard everything. His face—and pride—burning, he turned and walked away.

  Tess saw Shane leaving and cocked her head. Had he hated their performance? There was no time to wonder, though, as she walked off the stage and practically bumped into Caitlyn, who was waiting in the wings with her laptop.

  Catching Mitchie’s eye, Caitlyn gave her a long look. “Enjoy singing backup?” she asked sarcastically.

  Mitchie didn’t answer. Lowering her head, she walked away, Caitlyn’s words ringing in her ears.

  Mitchie was still upset by Caitlyn’s remark as she made her way down one of the paths by the lake the next day. Suddenly, she heard singing—good singing. Following the voice, she came to the director’s cabin. Shane was sitting on the steps, strumming a guitar. Hearing footsteps, he stopped.

  “Can’t a guy get some peace?” Shane groaned. Looking up, he saw that the intruder was Mitchie—one of the girls in his hip-hop class.

  “Sorry,” Mitchie said, ducking to turn away, then turning back. “Was that you singing? It was kinda … different.”

  “Than my usual cookie-cutter pop-star stuff?” Shane asked sarcastically. The words the guys at the bonfire had said were echoing in his head. “Sorry to disappoint.” He went back to picking his guitar.

  “You didn’t,” Mitchie said quickly. “I liked it. It was good for stupid cookie-cutter star stuff.”

  She smiled and so did he. He set the guitar down. “Thanks,” he said. “You really know how to make a guy feel better.”

  “I thought you loved your sound.” Mitchie frowned. “You created it here. You’re, like, a Camp Rock legend.”

  Shane heaved a heavy sigh. “Some legend. I play the music the label thinks will sell.”

  Mitchie leaned on the banister of the cabin porch. “You don’t think that song would sell?”

  Shane considered Mitchie’s question. “I don’t know,” he said finally.

  “Well,” said Mitchie, swinging on the porch post, “you’ll never know unless you try.” She smiled. “And by the way, I know one girl who would buy that song.” Turning, she disappeared down the path.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Another day, another lunch at Camp Rock. Mitchie, Tess, Ella, and Peggy carried their trays to their table. They passed Caitlyn working on her laptop, absentmindedly splaying her legs into the aisle.

  Tess looked down, but it was too late. She tripped over Caitlyn’s foot and teetered forward, her tray perilously close to spilling its contents. At the last second, she caught herself.

  “Oops. Sorry,” Caitlyn said. “Actually, I’m not.”

  “I would respond, but …” Tess’s words trailed off as if what she was about to say was just too horrible to be uttered aloud.

  “But you are responding by saying you’re not responding,” Ella pointed out.

  “Shut up,” hissed Tess.

  Tess started to move on, but as she did so, her tray tipped ever so slightly. Some of her food spilled off her plate and onto Caitlyn.

  “Hey! That was on purpose!” Caitlyn cried out, wiping food from her pant leg.

  “Does it matter?” asked Tess innocently. “Anything makes that outfit look better.” She tilted her tray once again, and more food spilled. “See?”

  Caitlyn had had enough. Grabbing a handful of noodles from her plate, she flung them at Tess.

  “Hey, guys, stop!” Mitchie pleaded, trying to put an end to things before they got out of control. But it was too late for that—the noodles Caitlyn had thrown hit Mitchie.

  “Oops. My spaghetti slipped,” Caitlyn said.

  “I can’t believe you did that!” Tess yelled.

  Caitlyn did it again. She laughed.

  But her laughter stopped immediately when a familiar voice spoke up.

  “Neither can I,” said Brown.

  Turning, Mitchie, Tess, and Caitlyn found themselves staring at one very unhappy camp director. He raised a hand and pointed at the three of them. They were in big trouble.

  Inside the director’s cabin, Brown paced in front of Mitchie, Tess, and Caitlyn. The three girls stood before him, silently dripping food remnants on the cabin floor.

  Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Brown stopped pacing and sighed. “Lay it on me,” he said.

  Caitlyn and Tess began screaming at the same time.

  “She has always been jealous of me. She cannot stand the fact that I am probably going to win Final Jam, and she just started flinging food at me. I’m going to have my dad sue. These are Gucci shoes!” Tess screeched.

  “She’s impossible. She walks around here like she owns the place, and why? Because her mom has some Grammys. So when she ‘spilled’ food on me, I lost it,” Caitlyn yelled over her.

  “Enough!” Brown bellowed. The girls fell into a strained silence. They’d never heard Brown raise his voice. “Who was the first one to throw food?” He tried again.

  Tess smiled. “That’s easy. Caitlyn.”

  Caitlyn turned and looked at Mitchie, silently asking her to stand up and tell the truth. Mitchie’s eyes dropped to the ground.

  “That’s technically true,” Caitlyn started, “but—”

  “No ‘buts,’” Brown cut her off. “Since you want to play with food,” Brown went on, facing Caitlyn, “I can hook you up with a job in the kitchen. From here on out, you are on kitchen duty.”

  “What?” Mitchie blurted out. If Caitlyn came to work in the kitchen, she would totally find out Mitchie’s secret! “I mean, ewww,” she said when everyone looked at her.

  “But—” Caitlyn began to object.

  Brown put his hand up. “Again with the ‘buts.’

  Look, it’s settled.” And with that, he exited the cabin, leaving two upset girls and one smug one in his wake.

  The next day, Mitchie found herself, a box full of potato chips in hand, racing down one of the camp’s paths. With her eyes focused on the ground, she didn’t notice Shane until she practically bumped into him.

  Shane looked at her, then at her chips, and then back at her. A smile spread across his face. “Hungry?” he teased.

  “Just a little bit,” Mitchie said, smiling back at him.

  There was an awkward moment as Shane and Mitchie both stood smiling and nodding, unsure of what to say.

  “You got a minute?” Shane asked, breaking the silence. “I wanna run something by you.”

  Mitchie gazed down the path toward the kitchen. I should be getting back to my mom, she thought. Then she looked back at Shane.

  “Uh, sure,” she said. She could spare a minute. After all, it was Shane Gray.

  He gestured to a spot off the path and Mitchie followed, potato chips in tow.

  A moment later, Mitchie was getting her own unplugged Shane Gray performance. She listened, impressed. The song was good. Unlike his usual stuff, this music was soulful and unique, raw with emotion. Shane played the last couple of chords and looked up at Mitchie.

  “I heard this girl singing, and it kind of reminded me of the music that I like.” In fact, Shane had been haunted by the girl’s sound—little did he know, Mitchie’s sound—since he’d heard it. “So I just started playing around with some chords. I know it’s not finished, but—” he stopped, suddenly shy.

  “No. It’s really good,” Mitchie assured him. Whoever the girl was, she had definitely made an impact. For a moment, Mitchie wished it had been her. But that was silly thinking …

  Shane stared at Mitchie. He was so used to girls just screaming that he had forgotten what it was like to actually talk to one.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Mitchie asked, blushing under his gaze.

  “I don’t know,” Shane answered. “You seem different.”

  Mitchie laughed. Shane had no idea just how different she was. But did she dare tell him the truth? Maybe he would understand. She opened her mouth to speak, but then Shan
e smiled wider and Mitchie changed her mind.

  Now wasn’t the time. Maybe later …

  Tess was walking on one of the paths that crossed by the spot where Mitchie and Shane were talking. She had her cell phone pressed to her ear.

  “Camp is great, Cynthia… Okay, when mom gets out of the studio, can you tell her I called again and that I love her?”

  Not surprisingly, Tess hadn’t heard from her mom in days. T.J. Tyler was in the midst of one of her “creative streaks,” during which she didn’t like to be bothered.

  Looking up as she clicked the phone shut, her mouth dropped open. Mitchie and Shane were in the middle of the woods—together.

  “So, I’d better get going,” Tess heard Mitchie say.

  “To the kitchen?” Shane asked.

  “Huh?” Mitchie responded, taken off-guard. Did he know?

  He pointed to the chips. “To get some dip for those.”

  “Oh, yeah, right.”

  They both laughed, like old friends would at an inside joke.

  Mitchie felt her heart race. This was good. Very good.

  Up on the path, Tess watched. This was bad. Very bad.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Hey, 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.

  Tess 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.