Rock Royalty (5 page)

T
he next morning, Mitchie's eyes shot open before her alarm clock even rang to wake her for kitchen duty. She had barely slept at all. It was the day of the School Rocks concert. Today she, Mitchie Torres, would sing on a stage in front of total strangers. Gulp. How am I going to do this? she wondered.

Luckily, there was quite a lot going on to keep her mind preoccupied. Mitchie spent most of the day in town at the school for a final sound check and rehearsal under the enthusiastic watch of Brown and Dee. Then it was off to wardrobe and hair and makeup before she had to be backstage at three. They were “rolling,” as the crew said, at six.

In addition to the crew and School Rocks organizers, the high-school grounds were also swarming with T.J. Tyler's entourage, including the president of Blush Cosmetics, who followed T.J. around like a puppy, telling her how “fabulous” she was at least every two minutes.

Nate and Jason had come to support Shane. Over the summer they had made several trips to Camp Rock and Mitchie was glad to see them there. She needed all the familiar faces she could get in the audience.

By five, the high school's theater was packed with campers, counselors, Lincoln students and friends, a few select members of the press, and special guests of the performers and School Rocks. Outside the theater, cashiers rang up last-minute sales of T-shirts, mugs, programs, and other concert paraphernalia. The show's producers were making final adjustments, while stagehands bustled back and forth talking to each other about set changes, lighting, and microphone placement over their headsets.

Meanwhile, in the wings, Mitchie paced. It felt like a cage full of butterflies had been unleashed in her stomach. Shane was waiting with her and was far less nervous. To him, this was just another day “on the job.” But he knew Mitchie was upset, and he was trying to calm her.

“Deep breaths,” he said. “Hee-hee-hoo. Hee-hee-hoo,” he breathed in and out.

“You sound silly!” Mitchie laughed.

“See, but you're smiling now. That's better than hyperventilating.”

“True,” Mitchie said, peeking around the red curtain. In the third row sat Lola, Peggy, and Colby, and on the end was Caitlyn, next to Mac. Behind them, she could make out Barron, Sander, and Andy. She heaved a deep sigh.

“You're gonna be great,” said Shane, putting his hands on Mitchie's shoulders and turning her to face him. He looked deep in her eyes. “If you get nervous, just remember to look at me.”

“I might end up looking at you the whole time,” said Mitchie.

“That's fine with me,” Shane said, smiling.

“Ready for your big moment?”

Mitchie spun around at the familiar, deep voice. “Dad!” she cried. Rushing over, she flew into her father's waiting arms. Beside him, Connie smiled.

“Whoa,” he said, nearly bowled over by her momentum.

Mitchie looked in surprise between her mother and father. “I thought you were working!”

“I was,” he said. “But I couldn't miss seeing my daughter's big moment.”

“How did you get backstage?” Mitchie asked. She glanced at the muscular bodyguards in tight black T-shirts guarding all the entrances to the stage. “The security here's like Fort Knox tonight!”

“We know people,” her mom joked. “I told them Mitchie Torres was my daughter.”

“Plus, Brown vouched for us,” her dad added.

“I'm so happy to see you!” Mitchie cried. She hugged her mom and dad again.

Beside her, Shane quietly cleared his throat.

“Oh, sorry! Dad, you remember Shane Gray.” Earlier that summer they had met briefly after Final Jam.

“Nice to see you again, Mr. Torres,” Shane said politely. Mitchie was impressed. He even held out his hand to shake her father's.

“Likewise,” said Mr. Torres. “I've heard you and Mitchie have been having a great summer.”

Shane blanched. “From the tabloids?”

“No, from Mitchie's mom,” Mitchie's dad answered. Shane laughed and relaxed.

“You know, in all the craziness, I never thought to ask—what song are you singing?” Mitchie's mom asked.

“ ‘This Place,' ” Mitchie and Shane answered in unison.

“It's the one I wrote for B's Jam,” explained Mitchie. “The acoustic song about Camp Rock that Faye Hart wanted to buy but I didn't want to sell.”

“I asked if we could sing it, since it's about camp,” Shane added. “And part of the money we raise
is
going toward the Camp Rock scholarship.” He turned to Mr. Torres. “I don't know if Mrs. Torres told you, but Mitchie's really been an inspiration.”

“So I heard,” said Mitchie's dad, nodding his head appreciatively.

Suddenly, a stagehand hurried up, all business. “Five minutes till you're on,” she warned. She looked at Mitchie's parents. “Are you her manager?” she asked Connie.

“No. I'm her mother,” Connie replied.

“Okay, well if you're not staff, you're going to have to leave the stage,” she said, shuffling the Torreses toward the stairs. “Sorry.”

“Good luck, honey!” Mitchie's dad called over his shoulder.

“No!” Connie said, playfully hitting him on the arm. “You're supposed to say ‘break a leg.'”

“Oh, right. Go and break a leg, honey!” he called, correcting himself.

Mitchie watched them go, wishing she could see them in the audience when she was onstage. But she knew that once all the lights were on, all she would see was a big empty space. Her face went pale.

“Are you okay?” Shane asked.

“Yeah,” Mitchie said. “No. I think I might be sick.” She leaned over, her hands on her knees, and took deep breaths.

“Excuse me,” Shane said, stopping a crew member as he walked by. “Mitchie needs a paper bag.”

“And maybe some water,” Mitchie added, hunched over.

“Any special kind?” the crew member said.

“Of bag?” Mitchie asked.

The stagehand rolled his eyes. “Of water.”

“Oh. Whatever.” Mitchie just wanted something with two molecules of hydrogen and one molecule of oxygen. Anything to keep her from fainting.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the stage, Tess was having her own case of nerves. She'd never been this anxious before a performance. Of course, she'd never performed for such a big event before, either. But she'd watched her mother do it a thousand times, so it couldn't be that hard. You just looked at the audience and sang, right? So why did Tess also feel like she was going to throw up?

“Tess, you look a little pasty,” T.J. said as Tess watched a stagehand count down on his fingers.

“Five, four, three,” he said, and then went silent for two and one. He pointed at the stage.

The audience in Lincoln High's theater erupted into applause as the chairwoman of School Rocks and the president of Blush Cosmetics took the stage to introduce the cause and the acts.

“Honey, are you feeling okay?” T.J. asked, putting her hand to Tess's forehead.

“I'm fine,” said Tess, shrugging her off. “Just a little nervous, that's all.”

“You mean stage fright?” her mom asked.

Tess nodded. “I guess so.”

“It'll go away the minute you step onstage,” T.J. assured her. “Trust me.”

Tess wasn't sure. However, she didn't have much time to worry about it. A stage tech was urgently cueing T.J. and Tess to take their places onstage.

As Tess and her mom took their positions, smoke machines whirred into action. A huge backdrop with the initials T & T on it descended from the rafters. The audience oohed and ahhed as brightly colored lights danced across the stage.

Here goes, thought Tess.

“To benefit School Rocks, please give a warm welcome to T.J. Tyler and her daughter, Tess!” someone announced, and the music started. It thrummed through the boards of the old stage floor. It was a beat Tess had heard a thousand times before—her mother's hit song, “Queen for a Day.”

As the music engulfed her, Tess's nerves disappeared, and the words spilled out of her as she hit all her cues. She nailed the choreography and belted out the chorus, grinning from ear to ear. She couldn't see a thing with the lights, but she knew the audience— including kids who would benefit from any money raised—was out there watching her. And even better, she was singing with her mom. It was the best feeling in the world.

When the song ended, the lights went out and Tess stood, trying to catch her breath.

“Great job, Tess,” her mom whispered. She was grateful for the opportunity to bond with her daughter. They saw so little of each other when she was on tour. “You ready for a few more?”

“Bring it,” Tess said.

By the end of their set, Tess was sweating from the bright lights, but she had never been happier. She bounded off the stage.

“And
that
,” she said to Shane and Mitchie, who were waiting their turn to go on after a few more words from their sponsors, “is how School Rocks.”

“Awesome performance, Tess,” said Mitchie. It had been pretty spectacular—the lights, the smoke, the glitter. It was a performance fit for rock royalty. Mitchie just hoped she wouldn't look like the court jester following the Tylers. . . .

As if reading Mitchie's mind, Tess flicked her hair and said, “I know.” The diva was back—until Tess suddenly realized a recording device was set up close by. “Good luck!” she added, changing her tone. She threw her arms around Mitchie for an insincere hug.

Just then the announcer introduced Mitchie and Shane. Any butterflies Mitchie had felt performing at jams or concerts this summer were teeny compared to the giant ones she felt fluttering in her stomach now.

Shane could see Mitchie's anxiety growing. Right before they were cued to take their positions onstage, Shane took Mitchie's hand. She was pale and wide-eyed, and he turned her so she was facing him. “Ignore the audience, Mitchie. Ignore the recorders. Just look at me. Just sing like you mean it.”

Mitchie nodded. Infused with Shane's confidence, they ran onstage together. He squeezed her hand as the bass started.

At first, Mitchie winced in the bright lights, but as she looked into Shane's eyes, she forgot about everything, and just concentrated on the words to her song. She thought about how much she loved Camp Rock, and how happy she would be if she could help someone else attend. And slowly, under the glare of the lights, it began to feel as if she and Shane were the only people on Earth.

As they finished, the audience exploded in applause. Their performance was pitch-perfect. Mitchie could have kept going, but T.J. and Tess were the main act, so it was time to take a bow and let them perform again.

As Shane and Mitchie exited the stage, Mitchie felt as though she was floating on air. She was so relieved and happy that she didn't even mind when a pack of reporters and photographers mobbed them backstage. They began hurling questions at them, especially at Mitchie.

“Did you write that song?”

“Yes.”

“Did Shane help you?”

“No, but he inspired me . . .”

“Are you and Shane an item?

Mitchie blushed. What was she supposed to say? Luckily, Shane was used to these questions and jumped in. “No comment,” he said. “Next question.”

“Let's see you pose for a photo together!” a photographer shouted.

Shane and Mitchie mugged for the cameras, side by side. A prince and his princess. A short while later, Tess and T.J. came up, wanting their share of the spotlight. The four of them smiled as the cameras flashed. Of course, Tess made sure to get in front of Mitchie whenever she could.

Caitlyn, Lola, and Mac had managed to sneak backstage with a little help from the stagehand Caitlyn had worked with the day before. From the shadows on the side of the stage, they watched Mitchie hold court.

Caitlyn sighed. “I really hope once the concert's over we get our old Mitchie back again.”

“We will,” assured Lola.

“Can I quote you on that?” Mac asked.

Lola and Caitlyn laughed.

If they had known Mac was serious, they probably wouldn't have been giggling. But Mac
was
serious. In a few hours he was supposed to file a report on the fund-raiser with his editor at
Celeb Beat
. And from what he could tell, it was shaping up to be quite a story.

C
HAPTER
S
EVEN

M
itchie fished a bulb of garlic from the kitchen's vegetable bin and set to work peeling the garlic's papery, white skin.

Outside the kitchen window, she could hear Barron and Sander practicing a new rap song they'd been working on. From the other window came the sound of someone practicing a drum solo. Normal, everyday sounds at Camp Rock.

“I need six cloves in total,” her mother called over her shoulder to Mitchie.

“Hmm?” Mitchie asked. Her mind wasn't exactly on her work. It had been two days since the School Rocks fund-raiser, and Mitchie still couldn't think of anything else.