Camp Rock 2 (4 page)

N
ate was finishing up his drum class. “That's right. Keep it up,” he said to the drummers. “And now bring it home.” As they ended their session with a loud crash of cymbals, Nate nodded.

“Nice. I knew you could do it.” He glanced at the clock. “I think it's a little late to start something new, so whaddaya say we all go enjoy some free time.”

And there was no question how he was going to spend it.

The campers were still gathering up their stuff when Nate hurried out of the drum cabin, ran down to the dock, kicked off his shoes, and began untying a canoe.

Minutes later he was paddling across the lake toward Camp Star. As he approached, he allowed the canoe to drift for a moment, trying to see if he could spot Dana through the trees.

“There she is,” he muttered. Or, at least, he thought it was her. It was kind of hard to tell with all the trees blocking his view.

“What are you doing?”

Nate yelped. He'd thought he was alone—he hadn't realized that Sander and another camper had floated up alongside him on a Jet Ski!

“Why do people keep doing that?” he asked, shaking his head. Just once, he'd like the chance to spy on Dana alone.

“Sorry,” Sander said, spraying some water on him. “Just doing our part as activities directors.”

“What's today's activity?” Nate asked.

Sander let out a mischievous laugh. “Wakeboarding!”

Nate whipped his head around. A camper was bobbing in the water with a wakeboard at the end of a rope. “No! Don't!” Nate cried, realizing what was about to happen.

But it was too late. Sander revved the engine of the Jet Ski and sped forward. Nate's canoe flipped over, tumbling Nate into the lake. All those swim lessons are about to come in handy, he thought, grabbing the canoe and starting to swim.

After what seemed like an eternity, Nate reached the lakeshore at Camp Star. Dripping wet, he stumbled out of the water, pulling the still-overturned canoe behind him. He lay down on a large boulder in the sun, exhausted.

“Are you okay?” Dana asked, walking up to him.

Nate nodded, still trying to catch his breath.

“Don't suppose you were coming over here to see anyone in particular?” she said nonchalantly.

Nate squeezed his eyes shut, mortified. “No. Just getting some … exercise.”

“Do you play a lot of sports?” Dana asked brightly.

“Canoeing. That's pretty much it,” Nate said, not even sure why he was saying that. He never canoed.

“I'm not really all that sporty either,” Dana told him. “I played soccer when I was little, but who doesn't?” When Nate didn't say anything, she kept right on talking. “I don't know if it counts as a sport, but I'd love to be a dancer—that's kind of my nerdy secret if-I-could-beanything-that's-what-I'd-be wish. What would you be?”

“Don't know,” Nate said, finally catching his breath. “Never thought about it.”

Dana smiled. “Probably because if you could be anything, you'd be you.” She paused and looked coyly at Nate. “Do you want to hear something totally stupid? I was goofing around and accidentally sorta wrote your name on my hand, but I used permanent ink by mistake.” She thrust out her hand to show him.

“No one's ever written my name on their hand before,” Nate mumbled, staring. nate was written on her wrist, just below her dana bracelet.

Dana pulled her arm back quickly. “Really more my wrist.”

Nate reached out for her hand. “Dana?” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Blech!” Suddenly Nate coughed up a mouthful of lake water. “Sorry,” he managed to say.

A voice called out from the trees. “Dana?”

Dana looked panicky. “It's my dad! I'm not supposed to be talking to you. Hurry. Go!”

Without sticking around to find out what would happen if he stayed, Nate raced to his overturned canoe and scrambled underneath it.

He heard Axel's footsteps.

“I, um, saw this canoe,” Dana told her father, covering.

“You can tell by the peeling paint it's one of theirs,” Axel said. “I'll have an attendant fish it out.” There was a moment of silence. He asked, “What's that on your wrist?”

“Nothing,” Dana said. And with that, they headed off.

As the sound of their voices faded away, Nate came out from his hiding place. “You know what I want to be?” he said, kicking the ground in frustration. “The kind of guy who can tell you how I really feel. I hate canoes!”

His wet clothes sticking to him, Nate climbed into the canoe, grabbed a paddle, and headed back across the lake to Camp Rock. When he finally arrived, returned the canoe, and began slogging up the hill toward his cabin, there was Shane, drinking it all in.

“I'm still an idiot,” Nate muttered as he walked past.

“And I still agree,” Shane said.

Nate turned, ready to punch him, but Shane held him off. “Dude, do you mind? You can't keep hitting me.”

Nate sighed. His brother was right.

But Shane wasn't safe. Just then, Mitchie came running toward him, tackling him to the ground.

“Aaah!” she shrieked excitedly. “I had absolutely the best day! Everything is finally starting to work.”

As Nate walked off in search of dry clothes, Shane and Mitchie got up.

“That's great,” Shane said. “And it's all because of you.”

“Because of us,” Mitchie corrected, her eyes sparkling.

“So, now that everyone else has gotten your time, I think I'm going to have to demand some of my own,” Shane said, squeezing her hand.

Mitchie squeezed back. “It hasn't been bad.”

Shane snorted. “The whole reason I'm here—that my brothers are here—is so I can get to know you a little better,” he told her. “But I feel like I've hardly had two seconds alone with you.”

Mitchie couldn't believe how cool Shane was being. “That's, like, the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me.”

“But … ?” Shane said, raising an eyebrow.

“But—” Mitchie began.

“And now a word from your friendly neighborhood announcer,” came Barron's voice over the Camp Rock loudspeaker. “Will the counselors scheduled for tonight's bonfire please report to the mess hall.”

Shane blew out his breath. “But you have to go,” he finished.

“We have to go. Shane—”

Shane held up a finger to her lips. “No. It's cool. They need you.”

Mitchie knew she was lucky to have such a supportive boyfriend. “Aren't you coming?”

“I'll catch up,” he promised, walking toward the dock.

Mitchie watched him go—and then hurried off toward the mess hall.

It was a perfect summer night. Everyone at Camp Rock was outside, gathering around the huge bonfire. People were roasting marshmallows, strumming guitars, playing charades … a great end to a great day.

Jason was sitting alongside Mitchie's mom by the fire.

“I'm impressed,” she told him as the Junior Rockers raced by, high-fiving him as they passed. “You seem to be doing much better with them.”

Jason nodded. “Yeah, it took a little while, but I think I've finally earned their respect.”

He stood up—but the log he had been sitting on was still attached to him. “Huh?” He bent over and tried to shake the log loose.

“All right,” he grumbled as Trevor filmed him. “Who glued me to the log?”

The Junior Rockers were doubled over with laughter. “Log Butt! Log Butt!” Gage taunted.

“We're gonna call you Log Butt.”

“Fine,” Jason said, crossing his arms. “But you know the only thing worse than being called Log Butt? Being sat on by a Log Butt.” And to the Junior Rockers delight, he ran after them.

“Look!” shouted a young camper. “Fireflies!” Sure enough, fireflies were flitting across the lawn near the water. The campers stood up and began to chase them. They didn't realize that across the lake, Axel Turner was watching the blissful chaos through his binoculars with Luke and Tess beside him.

“It's like Lord of the Flies over there,” he muttered, handing the binoculars to Luke. “There's no way they're making it through the summer.” Satisfied with what he'd seen, he walked away.

“I remember doing that,” Tess said longingly, watching a group of laughing campers. “It's fun.”

“Don't even think about it,” Luke snapped.

But Tess couldn't help herself.

* * *

B
ack at Mitchie's cabin, Mitchie, Caitlyn, Peggy, Ella, Barron, and Sander were sitting outside on the porch, enjoying the summer-night breeze. Mitchie played a few chords on her guitar as her friends talked about the day's events.

“It felt so great just standing up in front of that class today,” Peggy said, leaning against a pillar.

Caitlyn nodded. “I feel like there's nothing we can't do.”

Ella groaned. “Pleats. Still can't do pleats.”

Sander cracked his knuckles. “Wish we had that attitude the other night at Camp Star.”

“Yeah,” Barron agreed. “I so wanted to shove it right back in their faces.”

Mitchie understood exactly how he'd felt. It had been so frustrating sitting there watching Luke strut across the stage with his fancy lights and backup dancers.

“That hardly counted,” Peggy pointed out.

“They'd been planning that for weeks.”

“Yeah, but now they're all walking around thinking they're better than us,” Barron said angrily.

“So not true,” Peggy said. “I'd like to see them really go up against us.”

Caitlyn's eyes grew wide. “If we had the time to get it together, there is no way they'd even stand a chance. Like in Final Jam …”

“There is just no way,” Peggy said.

“Camp Rock rules!” Sander shouted. “We're so much better.”

“Lots of big talk,” Mitchie chimed in, a mischievous smile on her lips. “Wanna see if it's true?”

M
itchie had barely slept, thinking about her big plan to knock Camp Star off its pedestal. The next morning she gulped down her breakfast and met up with her friends. It was time to invade Camp Star.

“Let's do this,” Mitchie told her friends, who were just as pumped up as she was. Mitchie, Caitlyn, Sander, Barron, and the rest of the campers had canoed over to Camp Star with their instruments in tow. Now they were marching toward the amphitheater. Drums were beating, hands were clapping, and the Camp Rockers were ready to show Camp Star what they were all about.

Stomping onto the main stage, Nate slid behind one of the drum sets and began to bang away.

“Yeah, we're here and on your stage,” Mitchie said, grabbing a mike and addressing the Star campers that were flooding into the amphitheater. “Didn't really get a chance to answer back the other night. But that's about to change. Camp Rock versus Camp Star in Final Jam. What do you say? Think you can?” No takers. Mitchie grinned. “Yeah, that's what we thought.”

Sure, Camp Star could pull out all the stops on a performance they'd rehearsed for weeks. But an impromptu jam session? Mitchie had had a feeling they couldn't begin to compete.

Jason and Shane plugged in their guitars and began to play as Mitchie started to sing. She spotted Luke standing off to the side and stared directly at him as she sang. She'd show him just how good they were.

A few seconds later, Tess came sashaying across the stage, a posse of girls dancing and singing back-up behind her.

Mitchie couldn't deny it—Tess was good. After all, her mother was an award-winning singer, and Tess definitely had inherited those genes. Yet, Mitchie wasn't intimidated. She knew that she and her friends had a definite advantage. Not only were they just as talented—they were determined.

Pretty soon kids from both camps were singing, dancing, and playing their instruments, trying to one-up each other. It was musical mayhem—until Axel Turner came running up to the stage, getting between the two sides. “That is a fantastic idea,” he said. “Truly, I'm impressed. A little healthy competition is exactly what we need.”

Luke stared at him. “We do?”

“A champion always needs a good sparring partner,” Axel replied.

Mitchie and her friends began to make some noise. No way was Luke worthy of being called a champion when he hadn't won a thing.

“You really think you can take on my guys head-to-head?” Axel asked the Camp Rockers.

Peggy stepped forward. “Anytime. Anyplace.”

Axel shrugged and looked around him. “Maybe use our amphitheater?”

“It doesn't matter where,” Mitchie said, hating how cocky he was. “Camp Rock is going to blow you away.”

Axel gave Mitchie a haughty smirk. “I'm sure an audience would be a better judge of that.”

“Bring it on!” Caitlyn challenged him. “You can pack it with anybody you want.”

Axel rubbed his hands together, his eyes gleaming in the lights. “Then what about a worldwide audience? What if we put this little competition on TV and let the public decide who's really the best?”

Mitchie looked at her friends. She wasn't sure that was such a good idea. She didn't trust Axel, and if he was suggesting a televised competition, she could bet he'd stop at nothing to come out on top. But her friends looked really excited at the prospect.

“TV?” Ella kept repeating. “We'd really get to be on TV?”

“That would be so cool!” Peggy exclaimed, practically squealing.

“Uh, I don't know,” Mitchie hedged, not wanting to commit to anything before they checked with Brown. Then she caught Luke's eye.

“Not such a big talker now, are you?” he said smugly.

“The whole world would see us,” Caitlyn whispered, tugging Mitchie's arm.

That was the problem, Mitchie thought. They would have to be perfect. No way could they accept this invitation and come out anywhere but on top. Otherwise not only would their pride be stomped on … Camp Rock would be finished.

“Mitchie, come on,” Sander begged. “This could be huge.”

But if they didn't do this, Camp Rock could still be finished. She didn't have a choice.

“You're on,” Mitchie finally told Axel, gritting her teeth in determination as finally everyone started cheering.

B
ack at Camp Rock in the mess hall, Mitchie and the other counselors sat at one of the tables. Her songwriting notebook was being passed from person to person. There was a song Mitchie had written that she felt pretty good about. And she hoped everyone else agreed with her.

“I think it could really work,” Mitchie told them. “I wrote it last summer but I'd kind of forgotten about it.”

“It's a duet,” Nate pointed out.

Mitchie nodded. “Now. But I can rewrite it so there are parts for everybody.” It would be a lot of work, but if they pulled it off it would be worth it.

“Or we could rewrite it,” Shane offered, catching her eye.

Mitchie smiled at him. She loved collaborating on her music, especially with someone as talented as Shane. Together they could make this a song no one would ever forget.

Ella was looking at the notebook. “‘I lay pretty, pretty flowers on your grave,'” she read aloud somberly. “Am I the only one who thinks this song is, like, totally depressing?”

Peggy leaned over to see where Ella was reading and frowned. “You're on the wrong page.”

Mitchie tried not to laugh. “That was for my hamster's funeral.”

Peggy and Barron were talking excitedly. “The staging could be pretty cool,” Peggy said.

“And there's a ton of spots for some great dancing,” Caitlyn added, tapping her pen on the table.

“We could do this kind of thing, where everybody's up there,” Sander said, gesturing with his hands.

Mitchie could tell that her friends were just as into this as she was. And the great thing was they each brought a different perspective to the performance.

“You know, before we go any farther I just want to say that I've got some conditions,” Jason spoke up.

Nate blinked. “You've got conditions?”

Jason backed up. “Okay, more like a condition. But it's nonnegotiable. There has to be a spot for my Junior Rockers.”

“There will be a part for everyone,” Mitchie told him. That's what their entire performance was meant to show the world—that Camp Rock brought out the best in everyone—not just a few star performers. She turned to Shane, who'd been drinking it all in. “So what do you think?”

“I think somebody needs to talk to Brown.”

Mitchie grinned. “Why? I already know what he's going to say,” she replied happily. Brown loved Camp Rock, and they were going to save it. It was a no-brainer.

I
nside Brown's office the mood was a little different. Brown had just found out about Mitchie's plan. And he wasn't happy.

“How could they do that?” he exclaimed as Connie stood in the doorway. “I told them. I told Mitchie … Axel cannot be trusted!”

Connie studied him. “I don't know why you're so upset,” she said. “At the very least Camp Rock will get some great exposure.”

But Brown was too busy pacing back and forth to listen. “He took advantage is what he did. He saw an opportunity and went for it. An opportunity to destroy me once and for all.”

“And I thought Mitchie could be dramatic,” Connie said, only half joking.

With an angry grunt, Brown yanked his chair out and sat down at his desk.

“So call him up and say no,” Connie suggested. “It's not that big of a deal.”

Brown snorted. “Oh, we're well past big deal.” He turned his computer screen around. There was the Camp Rock logo next to the Camp Star logo. Above them, an online newspaper heading read: camp wars.

“‘Camp Wars.' Catchy,” Brown said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I especially like the tagline, ‘Only one will survive.'”

Neither Connie nor Brown noticed that Mitchie had walked over to the screen door and was standing outside, listening. Mitchie had been about to walk in. But when she'd heard the serious tone of her mother's voice, she'd halted outside to eavesdrop.

“We'll be watched by millions of people,” Connie said, trying to muster up some enthusiasm in the camp director. “That's good, right?”

“After this—we're done,” Brown said, shaking his head. “And not just for the summer … for good.”

Mitchie sucked in her breath. This was not the reaction she'd anticipated when she'd come up with her plan. Brown wasn't happy with her—he was upset.

“Give them a chance,” Connie urged, putting her palms on the desk.

“Nobody believes in my rockers more than I do, but we are going to look like a joke next to Camp Star,” Brown told her ruefully. “We don't have the resources. The money. The infrastructure.” He took a deep breath. “Talent, passion, commitment—it's not going to matter.”

“It always matters,” Connie said quietly.

“And when people watch,” Brown went on, “where do you think they're going to send their kids to camp?”

Mitchie felt like she couldn't breathe. All she'd wanted to do was help—but Brown was furious with her!

“She didn't do it on purpose,” Connie told him.

“I know,” Brown said, rubbing tiredly at his temples. “She was just trying to help. I'm not mad at her. I just wish she hadn't—”

Mitchie couldn't stand it any longer. She turned and fled down the old wooden steps, tears flooding her brown eyes.

She had wanted to do the right thing—help Brown save Camp Rock. Now, everything was a big mess and it was all her fault. She'd never in a million years wanted to let anyone down, especially not Camp Rock. This place, these people—it was like her second family.

A sob catching in her throat, she walked toward the beach. She'd have to try and turn it all around. Figure out how to fix things.

Before it was too late.