Camp Rock 2 (3 page)

R
ounding up the other Camp Rockers wasn't easy. For the past fifteen minutes, Mitchie had gone from classroom to classroom at Camp Star looking for campers. She opened the door to the recording studio. Two campers were inside, singing.

“Rockers. Boats. Two minutes,” she told them. The girls hesitated—then bolted out the door.

Mitchie gazed around. “Wow,” she whispered, taking in all the expensive, state-of-the-art equipment. “Now that's a recording studio.” As she turned to go outside she bumped smack into the guy who'd just performed like a bona fide rock star—with the attitude to match.

“Hey,” he said, smiling broadly at her.

“Hi,” Mitchie said flatly. She was not interested in talking to him. But he wouldn't move out of her way. “Can I help you with something?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Do I look like I need any help?” he asked slyly.

“Do I know you?” Mitchie said. Then she raised her voice, calling out, “Boats. Two minutes!”

The guy laughed. “Do you know me? That's a good one.” He gazed at her. “I'm Luke. Luke Williams? I was just onstage, like, two minutes ago.” He started singing a few lines of the song from before. “That's what I'm talking about.”

Mitchie rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah. Impressive.”

“I know, right?” Luke said, not picking up on her sarcasm. “So, you thinking about joining us over here?”

“Uh, no,” Mitchie said, attempting to brush past him. “I'm good where I am, thanks.”

Luke smirked. “Yeah, well, you're Shane Gray's girlfriend so …”

Mitchie stopped. “Wait. What does Shane … That is not … How do you even know that?”

“You gotta know the players if you want to be in the game,” Luke said smugly. “Am I right?”

“No.”

“It's a tough business,” Luke said, his eyes narrowing into slits.

Mitchie stared at him. “It's summer camp.”

“To you,” Luke pointed out. “For anybody at Camp Star, it's step one to a long and illustrious career. I don't have time for second-rate.”

“We're not second-rate,” Mitchie argued.

“You don't have to get all defensive,” Luke told her, holding up his hands. “You don't have to try and convince me.”

“I'm not trying to do anything,” Mitchie said, glaring at him.

“Good. Then Camp Rock is the perfect place for you.”

Mitchie felt as if she was about to explode. “Look, just so we're clear, Luke ‘I'm giving you the fiiiiiiiiire' Williams, there isn't a single Camp Rocker, not one, who would ever in a million years think about coming to this narcissistic, overproduced ego factory!” she burst out.

Just then Tess ran over, holding up her phone. “Guess what? My mom said yes. I get to switch!” she exclaimed.

Luke beamed. “That's great. Welcome to the ego factory.”

Tess beamed back. “Thanks!”

Mitchie stared at her. “Tess, how could you?”

Tess put on a sad face. “I know. I'm sorry. I feel horrible, but—” Suddenly she was smiling again. “Who am I kidding? I'm so excited I can't even pretend to be sympathetic!” Tess touched Luke's arm. “I love what you just did up there,” she gushed. “So impressive!”

“I know, right?” Luke bragged. “It's kinda my thing.”

Mitchie had had enough. “Good luck finding a spotlight big enough for both of you,” she said before storming off. She couldn't wait to get back to Camp Rock.

It was only a mile away … but a world apart. as the sun rose the next day, everyone who had decided to stay on at Camp Rock gathered in the mess hall. Mitchie stood in the middle of a crowd of campers, while Sander and Barron were at a DJ table behind her.

“E
verything's going to be fine,” Mitchie was assuring the campers. “Brown's a smart guy. He'll figure it out.”

“Thanks for that vote of confidence.”

Mitchie looked up to see the camp director standing just inside the mess-hall doorway. “I guess there's no need for me to get everyone's attention,” he said. He looked really tired—as if he'd been up all night long. He gazed out at the campers. “The good news is—and this seriously warms my heart—we lost very few campers last night.”

“Tess,” Mitchie muttered, scowling. She knew Tess was super competitive and serious about her career, but she still couldn't believe she'd walked away from her two BFFs, Ella and Peggy, and defected from Camp Rock.

“I am so defriending her,” Ella declared.

“But we did lose quite a few of our remaining staff,” Brown continued, rubbing his temples. “Which means … I can't believe I'm going to say this … Camp Rock is closed. Effective immediately.”

Mitchie was stunned. Close Camp Rock? He couldn't be serious! But by the looks of the grim faces around her, he was.

“You have to believe me,” Brown said over the campers' disappointed protests, “I truly have no other choice. I'll start calling parents as soon as we're done here … which, I guess, is now. I'm sorry.” With an abrupt nod, he walked quickly out of the mess hall, leaving the room in chaos.

“Brown!” Shane exclaimed. “Wait!” He grabbed his brothers and together they ran after him.

“Camp is over?” Ella said, dismayed. “But we just got here. It's not fair.”

Caitlyn slumped her shoulders. “It's not his fault. There's nothing he can do about it.”

Mitchie's mind was racing. “But that doesn't mean there isn't something we can do about it,” she said, thinking out loud.

“Mitchie—” Peggy began.

“We're not going home!” Mitchie declared, smiling for the first time all morning. “This is our summer. We're not giving up, and we aren't backing down.”

All of them—Mitchie, Caitlyn, Peggy, Ella, Sander, Barron, and Shane and his brothers—they were all in this together. Camp Rock was where they'd found their sounds, their voices, their strengths—and each other. There was no way they could just walk away from it all.

They had to take on Camp Star and win this thing.

There was too much at stake if they didn't. a short while later, Mitchie and her friends walked into Brown's office. They'd all changed into Camp Rock staff T-shirts.

B
rown sat at his desk, piles of papers spread out before him. He put down his phone and stared at them. “What is going on?”

Mitchie spoke up. “You said you were short a few counselors. So I found you some new ones.”

Please take a chance on us, she thought, her heart pounding. We can do this.

After a moment, Brown's weathered face broke into a smile. “Then it looks like I should call this staff meeting to order.”

Mitchie grinned. They wouldn't let him—or Camp Rock—down.

“N
o. No way!” Jason cried, staring at the class schedule Mitchie had hung up on the message board outside the cabins. He'd been expecting lifeguard duty—or maybe one-on-one lessons with one of the more experienced musicians—but instead he'd been assigned counselor duty for the Junior Rockers!

A bunch of campers gathered around him, snickering. And when Nate and Shane came over and began leading him toward the Junior Rockers' recreation room, he was adamant.

“No way,” Jason said, shaking his head. “I already told you, I'm not going to do it.” Spend his summer with a bunch of wild kids? Uh-uh. Not happening.

“Jason, you're looking at this all wrong,” Nate said. “This isn't a punishment. It's a reward.”

“Really?” Jason was doubtful. The job he'd been assigned sure didn't feel like a reward.

“Really,” Nate insisted. “It means everyone thinks that you have the leadership skills, the intelligence, the maturity, and the sheer guts to handle this assignment.”

Shane gave an appreciative nod. “Wow, you're good,” he told Nate.

“Thanks,” Nate whispered.

Jason's eyes brightened. Nate had made some excellent points. “You're right,” he said slowly, warming to the idea. “This is an honor.”

Nate gave a happy smile. “Exactly. Now get in there and make us proud. We'll be right here if you need us.”

Shane handed Jason a clipboard. Squaring his shoulders, Jason headed up the steps to the rec room. He was so busy looking forward that he didn't notice his brothers had taken off running.

As Jason stepped inside, he was greeted by the curious stares of Camp Rock's youngest rockers—including Trevor, the kid whose camera Jason had dropped.

“Hi, kids. Guys. Men,” Jason said, stepping forward. “I'm Jason.” He glanced at Trevor. “We kind of already … You got that new camera I sent over, right?”

The kid nodded.

“Okay, so I am going to be your counselor, and we are going to have a great time together. I have your schedule right … It's … I must have … ” He felt inside his pockets. No schedule.

Then he threw his hands up in the air. So what? “It's camp,” he said breezily. “Who needs a schedule?”

“When do we get to rock?” asked a Junior Rocker named Audrey.

Jason smiled. “We'll get to that, but first we need to …” He wasn't sure what they needed to do first, actually. “I'm kind of new at this, so go easy on me, okay?”

The kids all looked at one another.

“I say, let's get him!” shouted Gage, one of the Junior Rockers.

The kids were about to tackle a panicky Jason when Trevor stopped them. “Guys! Guys! Hold on a minute.”

Jason gave the kid a relieved smile. “Thank you,” he said.

Trevor picked up his video camera and turned it on. “Okay. Now get him!”

Jason tried to bolt, but the rec room's screen door got in his way. Before he could say “Connect 3,” the Junior Rockers had piled on top of him.

This isn't a punishment, this isn't a punishment, Jason told himself as he felt the knees, elbows, and fists of a dozen ready-torock campers.

Mitchie had created a master class schedule for the entire camp, with her friends serving as counselors. On paper, everything looked perfect. In reality, though … it wasn't so easy.

Caitlyn was going to be the new dance teacher. She'd dressed in dance gear, did some warm-ups, and psyched herself up to teach jazz to a room full of campers. She strutted into the classroom only to find that she was in the drum cabin—with a group of students sitting behind drum sets.

Meanwhile, Nate thought teaching drums would be a piece of cake … except he had a classroom filled with dancers.

Ella was completely nervous about the prospect of teaching, but she loved to sing and dance and would do anything to stay at Camp Rock. She stumbled into a cabin holding her sketch pads and a few bolts of fabric, pulling a dressmaking mannequin alongside her. “Oh,” she said, noticing that the room was filled with campers holding electric guitars. Shrugging, she started setting up her stuff.

Peggy's classroom was so jammed with campers she could barely breathe—while Mitchie showed up in the mess hall ready to lead a class in songwriting only to find that she was the only one there.

Back in the Junior Rockers' rec room, Jason ended up building a birdhouse—while hiding out under a desk as the campers ran around like crazy.

Camp Rock had turned into Camp Chaos.

T
he next day wasn't any better. Jason was still hanging out under the desk working on his birdhouse when suddenly a baseball smashed into it, breaking it into a hundred pieces.

Furious, he stood up. The Junior Rockers hadn't even noticed—they were still running around like wild animals, using the desks as drums, playing air guitar…

“Enough!” Jason yelled, losing his last shred of patience. “You wanna rock?”

Shocked at the sound of his angry voice, the kids stopped in their tracks.

“Well, you know what? You don't deserve to rock,” Jason ranted. “To be a real rocker, you've got to have discipline and order—three things none of you have.”

“That's two things,” Trevor pointed out.

“Didn't I say control?” Jason barked. “Well, you don't have that either. Why should I show you the first thing about being a rock star if you won't show me the slightest bit of respect?”

The kids immediately sat down. Jason blinked. He couldn't believe his angry pep talk had actually worked. “All right, that's better,” he went on sternly. “Who wants to play drums?”

A few hands shot up.

“Who wants to play guitar?”

A few more hands went up.

Jason surveyed the room. “Who wants to do lead vocals?”

A hand shot up. “Then I suggest you buy yourself some tight pants and learn how to play the tambourine,” Jason told him, thinking of someone in particular.

“Hey! I heard that!” Shane's voice came from outside the window.

Jason snickered. “Sorry!” Then he looked back at his now-attentive Junior Rockers and rubbed his hands together. They had a lot to learn.

M
aking sure he was out of sight, Nate walked down to the lakeside, found a good hiding place behind a cluster of trees, and pulled out his binoculars. He held them up to his eyes and scanned the area.

Nothing, nothing … bingo! There, across the water at Camp Star, he spotted her. Dana.

Sitting at a lakeside piano, playing a beautiful melody. The music floated across the water, making Nate's breath catch in his throat. He'd never met anyone like her…

“Nate?”

Nate almost dropped his binoculars. “Yeah!” he said, startled. “Yes? What's up … bro?” He finally realized the voice belonged to his brother Shane.

“What are you doing?” Shane asked, staring at the binoculars.

“I'm, uh, lifeguard duty,” Nate stammered. “This schedule is a mess. But you can't be too careful. One last look and …”

He held up the binoculars again, gazing across the water toward Camp Star. Dana was just finishing her performance.

“All clear,” Nate said to a bewildered Shane before jogging off. If he hurried, he just might catch her.

M
itchie walked into the mess hall with Shane right behind her. He pulled her overflowing clipboard from her hands.

“So what do I have to do to separate you from your clipboard?” he wanted to know.

Mitchie smiled. He was so cute. It was just—this was so important. She was about to reply when her mother came hurrying out of the kitchen, her cheeks flushed.

“Mitchie, I've just rolled a hundred pounds of raw hamburger all by myself,” she said, sounding exasperated. “I told you I needed help.”

“That's impossible,” Mitchie said, taking back her clipboard. “I know for a fact that I scheduled … absolutely no one. Oops.”

Brown came in, took one look at Connie's stressed face, and said, “What's going on?”

Connie sighed. “This is not working. The kitchen is a disaster, I've got no help, and yesterday I ordered fifty pounds of black beans for taco night and they delivered fifty cases of beach balls instead.”

Mitchie glanced out the window, where Sander and some other campers were tossing balls in the air. She giggled. “You know your handwriting isn't—”

“It's rock and roll. It's supposed to be chaotic,” Brown interrupted. He gave Mitchie a sincere smile. “You're doing great.”

“Thank you,” she said, taking a deep breath. But she was going to have to do better.

“How about we make a few more adjustments to the schedule?” Brown suggested, taking a look at Mitchie's clipboard. “And Shane,” he called over his shoulder, “help Connie with the burgers.”

Mitchie knew Shane would not be thrilled about that.

“I would, but I've got this thing,” Shane said, backing up.

But Connie was having none of it. “Yeah, right. Let's go, pretty boy.”

Mitchie gave Shane a tiny wave as he slowly followed her mom back into the kitchen. She couldn't wait until they could hang out.

First things first, though. She and Brown had a new schedule to work out.

By the next morning, Camp Rock was on track and on time. The new schedules were posted, and Sander and Barron made morning announcements, alerting the campers.

This time when Caitlyn arrived at the dance barn … she found a roomful of dancers warming up. In Peggy's cabin, she was thrilled to see campers on their feet, singing their hearts out. Ella had convinced the guitar players that learning about fashion was an important part of career planning. Jason had the Junior Rockers wrapped around his finger as he showed them how to rock out.

And Mitchie, guitar on her lap and songwriting notebook by her side, was sitting with a half-dozen other campers under a tree near the beach, teaching her songwriting class. Across the way, Shane was showing a group of campers how to handle a microphone.

No chaos. No panic. Everything was going according to plan. Mitchie's eyes flitted from group to group, drinking it in. Some people were playing Frisbee. Others were coming out of cabins, talking excitedly about the class they'd just finished. A few campers were even helping Connie unload boxes from her van.

Camp Star had better watch out, Mitchie thought, playing a few chords. Because Camp Rock was back!