by Lucy Ruggles
Tess made an elaborate hand gesture. She put up three fingers, and waving her wrist, formed a
W , E, M, and L.
“Okay, what is that?” Caitlyn asked.
“She said, ‘whatever, major loser’,” Ella explained proudly.
The girls laughed again, and even though she tried to hide it, Caitlyn was clearly hurt. Mitchie could see it. And she could also see that Tess didn’t care. Not one tiny bit. It made Mitchie feel ill, too.
“Wow, Tess,” Mitchie blurted before she knew what she was saying. “ ‘Whatever, major loser’ is so last year. Everyone knows that … Well, I guess not everyone.”
This time, Mitchie laughed. Ella and Peggy joined in, unable to help themselves. Tess, taken off balance by this turning of the tables, stormed away.
Looking over, Caitlyn gave the briefest of nods, just short of a “thank you.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
In the kitchen the next day, Mitchie and Caitlyn blew up balloons for that night’s theme party in silence. Connie entered, holding a large cookie with a hole in the center. “Do these look like records?” she asked hopefully.
“Huh?” Mitchie grunted, confused.
“I mean CDs,” Connie corrected herself for the twenty-first century. “Do these cookies look like CDs? I want to make sure they look authentic next to my ‘quarter-note cupcakes.’ ”
“Everything looks great, Connie!” Caitlyn reassured her as she tied off another balloon.
“These theme nights are the busiest,” Connie said, shaking her head. “Oh! I’d better go get the ice cream.” She rushed off, leaving the two girls alone again.
They both maintained their awkward silence, until Mitchie finally broke. “Did you sign up for Final Jam?” she asked.
Caitlyn nodded.
“So what are you going to do?”
Caitlyn looked suspiciously at Mitchie. “This is freaking me out. Why are we talking?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m slumming,” Mitchie said teasingly. She reached out and popped one of Caitlyn’s balloons. Mitchie laughed. “Or maybe I wanted to set you up for that.”
“Hey!” Caitlyn cried, but her scowl had softened into a smile. She grabbed a balloon and whacked Mitchie over the head. There was a brief, stunned pause before both girls burst into laughter and began whacking each other on the head and arms with the inflated balloons.
They finally settled into contented giggles.
Then, Caitlyn surprised Mitchie by saying, “It’s fun being friends with Tess.”
“How would you know?” Mitchie asked.
“Because I was friends with Tess,” Caitlyn explained. Catching Mitchie’s skeptical look, she went on. “I know. Hard to believe.”
“More like impossible. What happened?”
Caitlyn gave a heavy sigh. “Tess doesn’t like competition and she felt I was,” she explained. “With her, there can only be one star—herself. I know it’s cool being her friend. I mean, she can make you feel so important. And she’s popular, but so what?”
“Oh, come on.” Mitchie rolled her eyes. “Being popular is so not a ‘so what.’”
“No,” Caitlyn admitted. “There are perks.”
“Like … like …” Mitchie tried to think of one.
“Like singing backup for Tess all the time,” Caitlyn offered. “Like never getting to say what you really feel. Oh, and those exciting shorts outfits?” She laughed. “Those were real high points. You’re right. Sell your soul.”
Mitchie halfheartedly hit Caitlyn with a balloon. But Caitlyn made some good points. Was being popular worth all of Tess’s heckling?
“Hey,” Caitlyn said, “I’m on your side.”
Mitchie smiled and then noticed the time on the wall clock. She jumped up. “Shoot!” she exclaimed. “I was supposed to go meet—”
Caitlyn raised an eyebrow.
“We’re practicing for the Final Jam,” Mitchie said defensively.
Caitlyn made a mock flourish. “Of course. Her Highness awaits.”
Mitchie grabbed her things and guiltily headed to meet Tess and the girls. Caitlyn’s words were ringing in her ears.
Shane was also practicing. He’d been writing in his room all day. Since he’d heard that girl’s song outside the mess hall, he couldn’t shake it. Absentmindedly, he began to strum the song on his guitar.
His strumming was interrupted by the loud shrill of his cell phone. The caller ID told him it was Nate. Putting the phone to his ear, he heard the sounds of splashing and shrieking. His bandmates were obviously enjoying themselves poolside.
“So, how’s my birdhouse coming?” Jason asked over the speakerphone.
On the other end of the line, Shane rolled his eyes. He was not in the mood for this. “Guys—” he began.
“Sorry,” Nate and Jason said in unison.
Another girl shrieked in the background and Shane winced. It was nothing like the soothing sounds of his mystery girl. Suddenly, Nate’s words from the limo came back to him, and a smile spread across Shane’s face.
“About me recording with a camper—” he began.
“You gotta do it, man,” Nate said. “No go-backs.”
“Actually, I’ve been thinking,” Shane went on, much to his bandmate’s surprise. “And I think it’s cool.”
“Man, are you feeling okay?” Nate asked.
“Are you getting too much sun?”
“I’m fine,” Shane said. “And remember, whoever wins, no go-backs.”
Shane hung up before the guys could answer. “Now, I just have to find that girl from the mess hall,” he said aloud to himself.
Glancing out the room’s window, he saw Andy practicing a dance move. Hmm … maybe he could help.
Shane headed outside and made his way over to Andy. “Hey, buddy,” Shane said. “You wanna do me a favor?”
Moments later, Andy was whispering Shane’s message into a girl’s ear. “The girl with the voice,” he said mysteriously.
Nodding excitedly, she immediately rushed to tell her friends. By afternoon, the rumor mill was working at full tilt. Shane smiled as he walked past a group of whispering campers. His plan was working. He would get to the bottom of the mystery voice—even if it meant using his pop-star pull. If “the voice” knew Shane was looking for her, she would have to come to him, right?
But then, out of nowhere a girl ran up, stopping abruptly in front of him and belting out the words to his first hit song.
She finished the chorus and looked at him hopefully. Shane smiled but shook his head. Nope, not her.
Another girl approached, this one with an operatic voice. Again, Shane shook his head.
Soon, a line had formed in front of Shane. It seemed every girl at Camp Rock was trying out. They all wanted to be “the girl with the voice.”
Mitchie and Caitlyn, leaving the mess hall, stood and watched all the nervous girls practice their scales and warm up their voices.
“Aren’t you going to get in line?” Caitlyn teased.
“It’s not me.” Mitchie shook her head emphatically. “He’s never heard me sing.” How could he have? she asked silently. I don’t have the guts to get up in front—I’m always just backup.
To Shane’s dismay, the tryouts continued. In the middle of that night, Shane was abruptly awakened by the sound of singing outside his window. The next day, working on his laptop in the mess hall, an instant message popped up with a streaming link of Ella singing.
But none of these voices were the one, and Shane was beginning to get discouraged.
CHAPTER TWELVE
It 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.
Tess 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?�
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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.