Rock Royalty (2 page)

Mitchie took a bite of her burger before continuing thoughtfully. “Sometimes I just wonder what it would be like to have all the advantages of someone born into the business.”

“You mean like Tess?” Caitlyn asked, glancing over at Tess, who tossed her blond hair behind her shoulder as she answered more campers' questions about the concert. She looked perfectly comfortable with all the attention.

“Well, not
exactly
like Tess,” Mitchie said. “Just . . . haven't you ever wondered what life would be like if you were born someone else? In a different situation?”

“Of course,” said Caitlyn. “Everyone does.”

“That's all,” Mitchie said with a sigh. “I just
wonder
what it would be like to be rock royalty.”

Caitlyn thought about it for a second. “Weird,” she decided.

Their conversation was interrupted when Mac walked up to the table.

“Hey, y'all mind if I sit down?” he asked in his soft North Carolina accent.

“Go ahead,” Mitchie said brightly. She smiled mischievously at Caitlyn, who blushed and narrowed her eyes at her friend.

Mac sat down on the bench next to Caitlyn and smiled at her. “So, what do y'all think about Tess and this concert?” he asked. He waited, apparently very interested to hear Caitlyn's answer.

Caitlyn shrugged. “Tess seems pretty excited,” she replied. She glanced again at Tess, who was now leaving the mess hall, trailed by Ella and Lorraine.

“I reckon I would be, too,” replied Mac. “What do you think, Mitchie?”

“I think the cause is pretty cool,” Mitchie observed. “To give kids who can't afford private classes—or places like Camp Rock—the opportunity to take music and singing lessons. I wish my school had a music program like that. We learned to play recorders in fourth grade, but that was about it.”

“Me, too!” exclaimed Caitlyn. “I learned to play ‘Hot Cross Buns.'”

“And ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,'” remembered Mac, nodding.

All three of them laughed.

“So, um, you were into music even when you were younger?” Mac asked Caitlyn, when the laughter had faded.

“Definitely,” she answered. Looking up, she found Mac staring intently at her. He blushed and turned to Mitchie.

“What about you, Mitchie?” Mac asked, attempting to cover his embarrassment.

“I've been writing songs for as long as I can remember,” she answered. “But it wasn't until this summer that I got up the guts to actually sing them for anyone.”

Mac looked surprised. “Really? But you were great at B's Jam!”

For camp-director Brown's birthday every summer, Camp Rock had a special acoustic jam. This year, Mitchie hadn't won, but she'd definitely rocked the moment with one of her original songs.

“Thanks,” Mitchie said with a shrug.

“And when you sang with Shane the other night at the B-Note,” Mac added. “What's up with you two, by the way?”

Mitchie turned as red as the checkered tablecloth on the mess-hall table. “We're just friends,” said Mitchie.

Mac sure is asking a lot of questions, Mitchie thought. He must just need an excuse to see Caitlyn. Too bad I have to be caught in the crossfire.

“
Good
friends,” Caitlyn teased, poking Mitchie in the ribs.

Now it was Mitchie's turn to cut her eyes at Caitlyn, whose mouth had turned up into a playful smile.

“Shane and I are good friends,” repeated Mitchie, hoping to put the subject to rest.

Mac nodded his head and looked as if he was about to ask her
another
question, but then reconsidered. Mitchie let out a sigh of relief. Mac was a really nice guy, but she could do without the third degree.

“And you?” Mac asked, once again turning his attention to Caitlyn. “Do you have any . . . good friends at home?” he asked carefully.

“Sure,” Caitlyn said slyly. “I have lots of good friends.”

“Oh,” said Mac, his blond bangs falling into his blue eyes as he looked down at his hands.

“Sarah and Lindsay and Molly and Beth,” explained Caitlyn. “They're not into music like I am, though.”

Mac brightened, and Mitchie stifled a smile. She knew exactly why he had perked up. “Gotcha,” he said cheerfully. “Well, are y'all heading down to B-Note now?”

“I am,” Caitlyn said.

“Nope,” answered Mitchie. “I'm finishing a new song. Think I'm going to head back to the cabin now.” She stood to take her tray to the kitchen.

“Well,” said Mac, turning to Caitlyn, “may I escort you to B-Note then?”

Like a gentleman from an old black-and-white movie, Mac held out his arm for Caitlyn to take. Caitlyn playfully slapped at it.

“I think I can escort myself,” she said, laughing. “But you can walk down there with me.”

Mac gave Caitlyn an elated grin, and they both waved good-bye to Mitchie as she headed through the kitchen's double doors. She had to congratulate her mother on another terrific Camp Rock dinner.

C
HAPTER
T
HREE

T
he next afternoon, Mitchie waited for Shane at their usual spot—the bench near the hollowed-out tree. He had asked if she would meet him there after dance class.

Mitchie had quickly agreed. She hadn't seen much of Shane lately. He and his band-mates, Nate and Jason, had been busy working with Andy Hosten and Colby on a song for Connect Three's new CD. As winners of the recent Musical Mystery Hunt, Colby and Andy had won more than just bragging rights—they'd be performing on a hidden track on Connect Three's next album.

Normally, Shane liked to write songs alone, or with Nate and Jason. But the collaboration with Colby and Andy was going better than he'd imagined. Now he was superexcited to share some of it with Mitchie.

Knowing that, Mitchie had to wonder why she'd been standing at the hollowed-out tree for almost ten minutes. Where was Shane? she thought as she checked her watch again. It wasn't like him to just not show. He hadn't pulled this kind of spoiled rock-star behavior since he first arrived at Camp Rock, when he was only there because his publicist thought it would be good for his image, not because he really wanted to be.

That wasn't the Shane Mitchie knew now. She was starting to worry that maybe he had been abducted by crazed fans when, suddenly, an acorn fell from the oak tree and landed next to her foot. Close call, she thought, as another acorn whizzed by her head. And another and another!

Mitchie glanced up into the branches of the tree. Did a squirrel have it in for her?

Apparently not. Through the leafy limbs, Mitchie spied something familiar—a pair of very stylish, dark sunglasses. Behind them was a grinning Shane. He had climbed the tree and was crouching on a thick branch, chuckling to himself as Mitchie jumped around dodging acorns.

“Hey!” Mitchie called up to Shane, pretending to be irritated. Secretly, though, she thought it was cute that Shane Gray, teen idol and pop sensation, was climbing trees like a little boy. “What's the big idea?”

Shane smoothly swung down from the branches and jumped to the ground next to Mitchie. He was still grinning.

“Did you think you were going
nuts
for a second?” he asked.

“Ba-dum-cha.” Mitchie pretended to hit drums, teasing Shane about his lame joke.

He laughed. “Check it out. I'll be here all week, folks.”

“So,” Mitchie said, giving him a playful shove, “working with Colby and Andy is going well?”

Tucking her songwriting journal, which she had brought in case inspiration struck, under her arm, she and Shane began to walk toward the lake. They liked to take a canoe out on the water while they talked. It was peaceful out there. There was always so much
energy
around camp—with all the singing and dancing and music. Out on the water it was quiet, and Shane and Mitchie could be alone together.

“It's awesome,” Shane answered enthusiastically. “They've got some great ideas— different than mine, but really cool stuff.”

“That's great,” Mitchie said as she climbed into the shaky canoe. “I can't wait to hear it! Did you bring some of the lyrics?”

“All in here,” said Shane, pointing at his head. He got in smoothly and pushed away from the shore with a paddle. They headed out toward the middle of the lake.

“Actually,” he continued, “there's something else I wanted to tell you. You're the first person to know.”

Mitchie raised an eyebrow. “The very first person?” she repeated with surprise. “Even before your agent?”

“Well, okay,” he admitted. “He knows.”

“And your publicist?”

Shane rolled his eyes. “Okay, she knows, too. But you're the first person to know at Camp Rock!”

“Well, that's something. What is it?” Mitchie asked eagerly. She liked that Shane felt he could confide in her.

“You know about the fund-raiser concert Tess and T.J. are in?”

“Yeah,” said Mitchie. “Who doesn't?”

“Well, the organizers have asked me to perform, too.”

“That's awesome, Shane!” Mitchie smiled wide. “Why?”

Shane faked a frown. “My sparkling personality and stand-up talent aren't reason enough?” he joked.

Mitchie splashed water at him. “No, goofball, I just meant how are you connected to School Rocks?”

“Before I got . . .” He paused.

“Famous,” Mitchie continued for him.

Shane shook his head and continued. “Before I got
discovered
, I used to participate in a music program at my school. My old teacher is involved in the fund-raiser. He thought of me. They are recording the entire event, and all the proceeds from the CD sales go straight to the foundation. I think they're even going to be selling shirts and programs and stuff.”

Mitchie looked at Shane closely. How different he was in real life than she'd always imagined before she met him! The magazines and blogs always made him seem like a spoiled bad boy. But he was just like everyone else at Camp Rock—someone who had always just loved music, pure and simple.

“I think it's really cool that you're giving back,” Mitchie said, seriously this time.

“One of the best parts of the job,” replied Shane. He shrugged, a slight blush creeping over his face.

They were both quiet for a second. They could hear frogs croaking in the tall grass on the shore of the lake and someone singing in a cabin.

Then Shane brightened suddenly, as if he had an idea. “What about you?” he asked.

Mitchie looked confused. “What about me?”

“Well, you got to come to Camp Rock by helping your mom in the kitchen, right?”

Mitchie nodded. That was the deal. She couldn't have afforded it otherwise.

“Wouldn't you like to give someone else that chance, like your mom gave you?” asked Shane.

“Of course,” said Mitchie.

“If you sing in the concert, maybe you could raise money for a Camp Rock scholarship. One lucky kid who participates in the School Rocks music program could come to Camp Rock each summer.”

“
Me?
Sing in the concert?” Mitchie's eyes widened and she looked around and behind her. “I know you couldn't be talking about me, Shane Gray, because I could never sing in front of all those people. We're talking a major concert, Shane. In front of real live people with no connection to Camp Rock. Real live people who might be very happy to laugh at some no-name.”

“But you wouldn't be alone,” replied Shane. “You could sing with me. And according to you, I'm famous.”

Mitchie considered this for a second. Stage fright aside, it would be
so
cool to give another camper the chance to come to Camp Rock. And it would be awesome to sing with Shane again.

“But . . .” she started to protest weakly.

“No ifs, ands, or buts,” said Shane, as if he'd made up his mind. “I'll run it by Uncle Brown tonight. See if he approves the scholarship idea.”

“All right,” said Mitchie, nodding her head.

She beamed as Shane picked up the oars and steered them back to shore. The sun was setting behind him and the water glowed.

“Talk about a good canoe ride!” Shane said a moment later. “You're performing at the concert with me in Los Angeles, and we're starting a Camp Rock scholarship!”

Mitchie's smile vanished instantly. “Los Angeles?” she asked.

“Yeah,” said Shane as he rowed. In the growing shadows, he couldn't see that the smile had faded from Mitchie's face. “The concert is being held at Grauman's Chinese Theater—a national landmark!”

“I can't go to L.A., Shane,” said Mitchie. “My mom would never let me.”

“Not even with a chaperone?” Shane asked hopefully.

Mitchie shook her head. “Probably not.”

“Well, it doesn't hurt to ask,” Shane said, keeping the hope alive.