Act One: Rock Heroics




She hopped out of the car, and was greeted with the blinding morning sunshine. She had been stuck in that car for far too long, and she shook off her stiff legs and arms, and the older woman swung the car door open to join her. The two held a very slight resemblance, one that couldn't really be easily recognized, although their surname was enough to confirm any suspicion of their relations. Heyburn isn't one of those last names you come across very often.



Almost all made that simple connection, no one really did know of what really ran through her veins.



Both of the ladies looked very pleased and relieved at the sight of the towering green pines and oaks, as well as the dark, soft soils beneath their feet that greeted them, with the air holding a faint fresh scent that was left behind from the early morning showers. The younger girl meandered around aimlessly until she found an old oak tree with some sort of odd, small engraving on it. Her fingers ran over it carefully, and she couldn't help but grin in utter joy at the sight and feel of it underneath her finger tips.



"It's here, mom!" she called out.



The older woman looked over her shoulder, and let out a breathy laugh.



"Things here haven't changed at all," she spoke softly, eyes fixated on the mark on the tree.



"Apparently not, mom," the younger lady replied, unable to suppress the amusement in her voice.



She stepped aside to let her mother get a closer look at the tree, a mark that she had left too many summers ago.



"How long has it been?" she asked in an airy tone, running her fingers across the engraving. "This camp is ancient darling, you know that?"



"It must have been," her daughter scoffed teasingly. "You and dad must have left your mark decades, even centuries" that received an instant nasty look from her mother, and she laughed, "-ago; and year after year, it never seems to disappear off the tree bark, and apparently weather can't wear away the impact of two kids who've made their marks at this very camp, either. I can't believe dad couldn't make it this year, I miss that laugh of triumph of his he always makes when he sees it."



"We were eighteen when we carved this in, you know," her mom remarked airily, "it was our last year here, we dug into the tree the night before the end of the summer, just after final jam. Oh, God, I remember how much we hated each other before that last summer; he was competition and he was a cocky little prick. Of all summers, that one was the best, because it wasn't about competition that year, it was about just being there for the music, and final jam was just about watching what we all worked so hard for. He was such a handsome daredevil that year, you know."



"He still is, mom," she interjected, laughing.



"You should have seen him when he was eighteen," her mother sighed, laughing. "I remember all the girls tripping all over themselves to get his attention that year, and the two years before. But, obviously, I was the only girl for him, and might I add, I was just as gorgeous as you are when I was in my younger years. We both grew up during the time between the last summers, and it was only until the end did we realise our feelings for the other. Am I boring you, dear?"



She shook her head, grinning madly. "Of course not, you know I love listening to this, it's like every year, except without daddy's dirty commentary. I can't believe he's not here this year! This could be potentially my last year, and he's off in Australia playing in the snow? Ridiculous."



Her mom threw an arm around her, and directed her towards the lake, the two taking their time, tumbling down the uneven path down.



"Oh, come now, Lacey, you're seventeen," her mother exclaimed, "You still have another year after this one to do your victory lap. Dad knows that you're going to be back next year, and he hopes you understand that he'd be here if he really could. Now, you want me to call dad so he can give his smug commentary, or should I just continue on?"



"A victory lap seems unnecessary, mom." She sighed. "But go on."



"Well, we spent a lot of our nights that summer sitting here on the deck, talking," she continued, sitting down on the worn out pieces of wood. "We spent all night after final jam here, we even scrawled our names in permanent marker, but it has long faded now. Neither one really wanting to leave the camp just yet, especially with so much unfinished business, but when morning came, we had to say our goodbyes. It was heart wrenching, with all the tears, and everything. It was only two years after that did we meet again, and, well, the rest is history."



"Who did win final jam that year?" she asked, seeing as they hadn't really ever mentioned it, and the question always seemed to have slipped her mind every time.



"Your dad did," her mom replied. "That was the only time I was glad that he won, because, honestly, he rocked it that year, and, well, it didn't hurt that he had been looking at me throughout the entire performance. It was terribly gushy and dreamy."



She smiled without showing her teeth, and patted Lacey's leg as the two stood up, the sun slowly rising on the tranquil horizon. The lake was exceptionally beautiful that morning, and Lacey thought it was definitely worth waking up at 3 AM for it. You can't exactly get views like this in a big town where she came from. The two silently walked back to the car, and were pleasantly surprised by the camp organizer.




Author's Note: Hey guys, I'm kind of new to this entire "Camp Rock" fandom, but I'm loving the concept. (:

I'm not sure if it was just me, but I was kind of left a bit disappointed with the movie, and really wanted to give it a bit of a rewrite, which ultimately led me here, ha ha ha. It just really irked me on how G-Rated it was, because quite frankly, if the most vilest thing you could verbally say to insult someone is calling them a "jerk" or a "big fat liar" doesn't really hold much of an emotional punch.

So, be prepared for some (a lot) of cussing, because that's about the only way a teenager knows how to convey their emotions and frustrations.

Sorry, but it's not a Smitchie, solely because I found that it would be far too much work to inject some well-needed backbone into Mitchie, and, honestly, I hate her name. It makes me cringe just at the sight of it, and Microsoft Word refuses to put a halt to those awful red sribbles, which can be such a bother. ):

Just consider Lacey as a new and improved (name-wise, especially) Mitchie, and bear with me! (:

I'd love to see what you all think about it so far, and I hope you enjoy it very much.

Laterx.

- QK.