by Wendy Loggia
Sander and Peggy followed. They too had ideas they wanted to run by Mitchie.
“Hey, Mitch,” Shane interjected, looking a little put out. “Can I have you for a sec?”
“Do you know who’s doing the vocal arrangements?” Peggy wanted to know, ignoring Shane. “If it’s me, fine—but someone’s got to tell me.”
Mitchie bit her lip. “Sorry,” she mouthed to Shane. There just weren’t enough hours in the day to get everything she wanted accomplished done. And right now, focusing on Camp Rock was where her head needed to be.
Shane stood there for a moment as if he was about to say something. Then, giving up, he walked outside, letting the screen door bang behind him. Mitchie looked up for a second—and then Caitlyn was asking her something about the sound mixing. Mitchie couldn’t let herself think about Shane.
This was just too important to mess up.
Nate had finally met a girl he was interested in getting to know—and they might as well have been an ocean apart. Or, well, a lake.
He dragged his foot through the sand, squinting in the sunlight across the water. He loved being at Camp Rock … but it would have been nice to have a girl to keep him company.
Just then Shane came walking—or rather, stalking—past. “I swear I don’t even know why I’m here,” Shane muttered, not slowing down. “Take my advice. Never, ever get yourself a girlfriend.”
Nate sighed. “No worries about that.” He held up his binoculars and looked across the lake to Camp Star. Dana was standing on the dock, holding her own pair of binoculars. He gave a little wave, and she waved back. Nate put his binoculars down and sadly headed back toward camp.
“Hey, hey, what are you doing?” Mitchie scolded as she walked past her cabin. Caitlyn and a couple of her dance students were there, but instead of practicing their routine, they were laughing and goofing around. “You guys are supposed to be rehearsing,” Mitchie reminded them.
Caitlyn laughed. “Calm down. We’ve been rehearsing for over five hours. We’re just taking a little break.” She did an exaggerated slide across the floor.
But Mitchie wasn’t in the mood for fun and games. “Yeah, well, I was watching, and I think we’re going to need a lot more work,” she said tartly before walking over to Peggy. She stood there, silent, as Peggy and another camper were busy cracking each other up.
“You guys done already?” Mitchie asked them.
Still laughing, Peggy said, “No. He was just telling this story about his sister. It’s hilarious. You have to tell her,” she said to him.
“Oh, is it the one about the group of kids who didn’t take their jobs seriously and their camp was closed down? I’ve heard it,” Mitchie snapped, watching Peggy’s face fall. She couldn’t believe her friends were being so cavalier about this.
She was stomping off when Jason came running up to her with Trevor and a few other Junior Rockers behind him.
“Mitchie,” Jason said, out of breath, “you’ve got to see this bit me and the Junior Rockers came up with. I think it’s a real spotlight moment.”
“That’s great, but whatever it is, it’s probably going to be more of a background moment,” she said, sidestepping him and making a beeline for Sander and his crew. “Sander! What’s going on?” she called out. They were studying set plans—which was what they were doing when she’d left them a half hour ago. “We have to get this built! Come on guys, work with me.”
She was dismayed to hear Sander mutter under his breath, “If I wanted to go to Camp Star, I would have signed up.”
She shook her head at him, frustrated. “That’s not fair. I am just trying to get this done. But if you don’t care …” she trailed off, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. Everyone was staring at her.
“Mitchie, we all care,” Caitlyn told her. “But you’ve got to lighten up.”
Mitchie swallowed back the lump that had formed in her throat. “Yeah, and what will that get us?”
Caitlyn stared at her for another moment, then turned back to her dancers. “All right, let’s do it again.”
Mitchie didn’t care if everyone thought she was being mean. She wasn’t trying to make friends. She was trying to save Camp Rock—her camp. Their camp. Couldn’t they see that?
“That girl is taking the f-u-n out of summer,” Ella said under her breath as Mitchie walked away.
“There is no f-u-n in summer,” Peggy told her.
“Exactly,” said Ella.
Brown and Shane had witnessed Mitchie’s mini-meltdown. Now Peggy turned to them, hands on her hips. “Seriously, I love her, but I’m going to kill her.”
“You know what you’ve got to do,” Brown told his nephew.
Shane nodded, a gleam in his eye. “I’m on it.”
As Shane headed toward the Junior Rockers’ rec room, Jason was trying to convince his campers that Mitchie hadn’t turned down his proposal—she’d said she’d think about it. But his pitch was cut short when Shane showed up.
“I’ve got a proposition for you boys,” Shane said. “Think you’re up for it?” Once they’d heard Shane’s plan, they couldn’t wait to put it into action. all of the Camp Rockers were assembled in front of the stage, and Mitchie was speaking into her megaphone. “Okay, we have a ton of stuff to go over. Where are the Junior Rockers? And Shane? And Jason? And Nate? Seriously, people have got to start being on time. First off—”
“Attack!” Jason yelled, giving the signal.
The Junior Rockers invaded from all directions, whooping like warriors. Using homemade catapults, they launched water balloons into the air while Shane and Nate hopped onto the stage and began shooting people with water guns.
Mitchie looked aghast. “What do you think you’re—aaaah!” Water blasted her from every side. The camp erupted into delighted shrieks and screams as all the campers got in on the fun, soakers and soakees alike.
“I don’t think this was on the schedule,” Connie told Brown, wringing her hands.
Brown grinned back. “Are you kidding? This is what summer camp is all about.” He stepped forward. “Counterattack!” He whipped out a garden hose he’d kept hidden from view and blasted Jason. Then Brown began tossing out packets of balloons to various campers.
Delighted, the campers filled up their balloons at the spigot and reloaded the water guns down at the lake.
A water fight may not have been on the schedule. But it sure was fun.
* * *
Mitchie scribbled furiously in her songwriting notebook, stopped, groaned, and erased. She’d been sitting alone at a mess-hall table for hours, poring over each stanza and every melody. It had to be perfect.
“You know, your sheet music is soggy,” Shane said as he walked inside. The screen door banged behind him.
“I’m pouring myself into the music,” Mitchie joked. It was true, though. She hadn’t even bothered to change her clothes after the water fight. She’d been so anxious to sit down and work on her lyrics, but they weren’t flowing as easily as she needed them to.
Shane laughed at her joke. Then he said, “That was bad.”
“I know.” Mitchie winced, sliding over to make room for Shane alongside her. “Are you here to help?”
He shook his head. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” Mitchie asked.
Shane pulled her to her feet with one hand.
“Because you and I are going on a moonlight picnic on the dock.” In his other hand were a flashlight and a picnic basket. “Admittedly, all stolen from the mess-hall kitchen. Don’t tell your mom.”
Mitchie laughed. “Now?” He couldn’t be serious. The timing …
“Right now.”
“How could you—” Mitchie started to say at the same time as Shane said, “Because I really am just that nice of a guy.”
Mitchie continued, “—think that I would just go running off?” It wasn’t as if she could turn off a switch and pretend like she didn’t have the weight of the world on her shoulders.
�
�Are you saying no?” Shane asked, his brown eyes disappointed.
Mitchie exhaled. “Do you not understand everything that needs to get done?”
“How could I not since I have you reminding me, like, every two seconds?” he said.
“And a water fight?” Mitchie scolded. “What were you thinking?”
Shane was frowning. “I was thinking, ‘Wow, wouldn’t it be nice to have fun for a change.’”
That stung. “So you’re saying I’m not fun,” Mitchie replied. It came out as more of a statement than a question.
Shane groaned. “I don’t even know why I keep trying. The only reason I’m here—”
“Is to get to know me better,” Mitchie finished for him, frustrated by the whole conversation. “I know. Well, guess what? This is me, and I’m trying to save something important to me.”
Shane gave her a steady look. “Well, so am I.”
“How’s it working out for you?” Mitchie asked, hating how snippy she sounded but feeling powerless to stop herself.
“Not so good.” He turned to go.
“Shane, wait!” Mitchie called after him. He turned back. “You forgot your flashlight.”
Without a word, he took it and walked out.
Mitchie went back to her notebook, but nothing she wrote was any good. She squeezed her eyes shut. She knew she’d been rude to Shane, but how could she just go hang out with him when so much was at stake? Why couldn’t they see eye to eye on this?
Even though it seemed as if they were from different planets, Mitchie wouldn’t change a thing about Shane. Sure, he could drive her crazy. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t crazy about him.
Mitchie was in the middle of a horrible dream—she forgot the words to one of her songs in front of conceited Luke Williams—when a warm beam of sunlight splashed across her face, waking her up.
She rolled over, pulling her soft sheet close, then bolted up. She was alone in the cabin. The other beds were made, and the girls were gone. What time was it? And where were her friends?
She hopped out of bed, put on a pair of shorts, a staff T-shirt, and grabbed a hoodie. Slipping her flip-flops on, she padded outside.
The porch, the path, the lake … empty. A flock of birds flew overhead as Mitchie looked around.
She headed up to the main stage area. Here they are, she thought, hardly able to believe what she was seeing. Peggy was rehearsing singers. Caitlyn, Sander, and Barron were working out a dance routine. Jason was practicing guitar parts with the Junior Rockers. Ella was zipping around with her measuring tape, taking measurements for costumes. Another group was poring over set and lighting plans.
“What’s going on?” Mitchie said, dumbfounded. This was the kind of effort she’d been trying to achieve all week long.
“You were right,” Ella told her. “It shouldn’t be all up to you. And we do need to step it up.”
“But, how—?”
Caitlyn hopped down off the stage. “Shane got everybody up before dawn,” she explained, tugging on the hem of her tee. “He can be pretty persuasive when he wants to be.”
A wave of gratitude—then guilt—swept over Mitchie. She looked around, spotting Shane with a group of other musicians.
“Mornin’,” he told her, handing her some papers. “Sleep well? Here, I don’t think you’ve seen a copy of the new arrangement yet. That song really needed a lot of work.”
Mitchie looked at the papers in her hands, trying to process. “Did you do this?”
“Yup. I hope you like,” Shane said with a smile.
Mitchie met his gaze, her heart thumping. “I already know I love it.”
Later that afternoon, Mitchie and Shane were watching Caitlyn and a few other campers practicing a dance routine on the stage. They were pretty good, Mitchie thought, but something was missing…
“No,” Shane said, hopping up on the stage and shaking his head. “You gotta work that stage like you own it.” He grabbed a mike and did a classic pop-star strut, looking directly into a pretend camera with a confident glare.
He’s such a natural, Mitchie marveled. That’s what had been missing from their show—stage presence. That sure-of-yourself attitude that all successful performers needed.
“And guys,” Shane called over to some campers on drums, “you’re playing, but we gotta see you play. Nate?”
Nate hurried over with a couple of drumsticks. “Not like this,” he told the drummers, playing the set quietly. “Like this.” And he whaled on the drums, making a show of it.
“Jason,” Shane said, motioning for his brother to step forward. “Show ’em how it’s done.”
Jason nodded. “Not like this,” he said, lamely playing air guitar with zero energy. He waved his Junior Rockers over and they swarmed around him. “Guys?” he prompted. “Like this!” And they all broke out into some total instrument thrashing and killer rock-star poses.
“Woo-hoo!” Mitchie yelled appreciatively. The practice sessions with Jason had brought out their inner rock stars!
Caitlyn, however, wasn’t so thrilled. “Well, that’s easy for you guys, but we’re not all rock stars,” she told Shane.
“But you can be,” Shane insisted, pumping his fist and grabbing an imaginary mike stand.
Being a rocker was so much more than just hitting the notes or knowing where your cue was, Mitchie had discovered. Playing a song perfectly was nice, but if you couldn’t own the stage or put all your heart and soul into a performance, the audience wouldn’t stay with you.
That was what rock and roll was all about.
And Mitchie loved every second of it. a little while later, Nate walked along the path that led to his cabin, humming a song that he just couldn’t get out of his head. Then he struck a pose and pretended he was onstage, rocking out. Check it out, he thought, jumping onto a bench and leaning back as if he was playing an incredible solo.
“Hi, Nate.”
Nate spun around so fast that he lost his balance and toppled over into a nearby bush. He would have never acted like such a goofball if he’d known someone was there. Such as Dana!
“Dana. Hi,” Nate said, covering. “I didn’t… What are you doing here?” he blurted out, scrambling to his feet.
“What do you think?” she asked him.
“You came to see me?” Nate tried, hoping that was the case.
She smiled. “Good guess.”
“Well … here I am,” Nate told her, spreading his arms wide. But his words didn’t exactly elicit the reaction he was expecting.
Dana stared at him, an annoyed expression on her face. “That’s it? I came all the way over here in a canoe, risking my father’s wrath, and that’s all you have to say to me?” she exclaimed.
Nate gulped. “I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say,” he said. His palms were beginning to sweat.
“There’s nothing you’re supposed to say,” Dana retorted, her eyes flashing. “Every day I see you looking and waving, and I’m all, that’s so sweet, I so like him.”
“You do?” Nate said. She did like him! “That’s really what you say?”
“But then …” she began, shaking her head.
“But then,” Nate repeated, feeling like a balloon that had lost its air. “That’s never good.”
“How can I really know if I don’t know anything about you?” She folded her arms across her chest. “I guess I thought you were different.”
Nate had to say something to turn this conversation around. “I am different,” he said. “My brothers tell me that all the time.”
Now Dana looked angry. “No, you’re not. You’re exactly like every other sixteen-year-old boy in the world.” She made her voice sound dorky. “Uh, I don’t know,” she mimicked. “Have you ever asked me a question or told me anything about yourself—you know, other than you like canoeing?” she demanded to know. “What’s you favorite holiday? Do you like to read? Waffles or pancakes? Are you afraid of the dark?” She took a deep, ragged breath. “And it
’s Thanksgiving, yes, neither, and no, in case you’re interested,” she added, answering her own questions.
No one had ever spoken like that to Nate before. He blinked. “I don’t really like canoeing,” he confessed, shrugging. There, that was something. Right?
“So I really know nothing about you,” Dana said, frowning.
A long awkward moment of silence hung in the air.
“I still don’t know what to say,” Nate mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. When he was onstage he felt so self-assured, but when he was face-to-face with a girl he really liked? Hello insecurity.
“It’s okay,” Dana replied. “I think you just did.” And she brushed past him and headed down the path.
“Idiot,” Nate muttered, shaking his head. But he didn’t stop her.
The next day, Mitchie couldn’t keep the smile off her face when she saw Shane coming down the hill toward the lake. She had the boat ready to go, and soon they were rowing across the water.
“Are you sure you have the time?” Shane asked, half serious. His foot jostled a picnic basket packed with goodies.
Mitchie nodded. “You make time for what’s important,” she replied, smiling. After watching Shane and his brothers inspire the campers with their passion for music, she’d taken a step back from things for a moment. Although saving Camp Rock was at the very top of her list, there was room for something else at the top, too. Someone else—Shane. So this morning she’d given her mom a note to pass along to him when he stood in the breakfast line.
Meet me at the lake at 11.
I miss you.
-Mitchie.
p.s. I’ve got lunch covered
The rest of the afternoon was just about as perfect as it could be. Shane wasn’t the best oarsman—they crashed into a cluster of rocks not once, but twice—and then he’d actually lost his paddle.
But that was okay. Mitchie couldn’t think of anyone else she’d rather hang out with and talk to—or eat her mom’s egg salad and pickle sandwiches with. And when they were together, it was okay not to talk, too. They spent a half hour floating quietly along the lake, the only sound an occasional splash as birds dove for fish.
