You Had Your Chance
Rated: T
Disclaimer: Nope. Don't Own.
Mitchie walks through the backdoor of the kitchen by habit, wiping away any remaining tears with the back of her hand, still upset. Her secret was out. Tess had told the whole camp yesterday that Mitchie's mom was not the President of Hot Tunes China like she had originally said – instead she was the chef at Camp Rock, with Mitchie having to help her between classes.
"Mitchie honey, there you are," Connie says to her daughter, wiping her hands with a rag before throwing it into a nearby sink. "I was getting worried." Mitchie and her mom had talked about what had happened yesterday, her mom trying to comfort her, but even talking to her mom had not made her feel any better. Who she needed to talk to was Shane.
Mitchie gives her mom a forced smile, but her mom could see right through her façade . Mitchie walks to the where the aprons were hung, and grabs one placing it on herself and tying it in the back.
"You're going to need these," Connie says handing Mitchie a hair net and disposable gloves. "Where is Caitlyn?" Mitchie takes the hair net and gloves from her mother, struggling to put them on. "Caitlyn said she needed to talk to someone and then she would be right over to help." Mitchie chose to leave out that the person Caitlyn was talking to was Shane since Mitchie herself didn't have the guts to approach him. Caitlyn was being a great friend to Mitchie standing by her through it all. When she had told Caitlyn that her mother had needed their help in the kitchen she said she was going to go convince Shane to talk to her first, and then she would be right over. Caitlyn had made it sound like it was going to be a simple task. But Mitchie knew it wasn't going to be easy. One look at Shane's face after Tess had spilled her secret had convinced her of that.
"What are we making for dinner?" Mitchie asks her mother, leaning against the table in the center of the kitchen where most of the food got prepared.
"Hamburgers sweetie," Connie says gently, walking over to her daughter, and grabbing her shoulders she turns her to face the table she was leaning against. On the table was a heap of meat that was piled high, her daughter not noticing it till just now.
"Oh," Mitchie says in a monotone tone.
"Are you sure you are alright honey?" Connie asks her daughter. Mitchie nods and begins forming the meat patties. Connie watches her daughter and sighs knowing that she was definitely not ok. "Listen," Connie says suddenly causing Mitchie to look at her mom curiously. "Brown needs to talk to me about the food going to be served at final jam, so are you ok here?" Mitchie nods, returning to the pile of meat in front of her. She hears the door close behind her mom, forcing Mitchie to be left alone with her own thoughts.
Mitchie hears a door squeak open, expecting Caitlyn, wiping the sweat from the hot summer day from her forehead with her arm. "Caitlyn is that you?" She asks, when she doesn't notice anyone. She bites her lip when instead of seeing Caitlyn she was staring into the eyes of Shane Gray who was in front of the table where she was working.
"So this is the real Mitchie?" He asks quietly, nodding towards the meat patties that she had already finished.
"In all my pride and glory," She says just as quietly not removing her eyes from his, finally letting him see the real her by stepping back from the table allowing him to see her in her apron, her hair net containing her messy hair beneath it, and the disposable gloves. The kitchen is silent for a few moments before Mitchie speaks up. "Say something."
"Were you ever going to tell me your secret?" Shane asks his voice barely a whisper, but Mitchie could still hear the anger in his voice. Mitchie returns to the table buying her some time to think.
"Yes," Mitchie says after some time. "I was going to tell you. I just didn't expect you to find out the way you did."
"You have had time to tell me," Shane says his voice still low but laced with anger. "I even told you on the canoe how nice it was to talk to someone who understands what I am going through. "Why didn't you tell me then? We were in the middle of the lake just you and me. What stopped you from telling me then?" Mitchie bites her lip again, wanting to keep her emotions in. "How do I know if you were ever going to tell me the truth? Was that a lie too?"
"I guess you're just going to have to believe me," Mitchie says boldly, not sure where she got the boost of confidence from when she felt like breaking down.
"I don't know if I can do that Mitchie," Shane says quietly, his eyes hard, but Mitchie swore she saw some sorrow in them. "I told you I wear the front of a jerk because I never know the real reason why people are friends with me. And you just proved why I need to do it."
"It wasn't for the reasons you think!" Mitchie says, wanting Shane to understand.
"Maybe not. I don't know," Shane says shrugging, his eyes still staring hard at Mitchie's. "I don't know if what you said to me are lies or if they are the honest truth. Should I question everything you ever said to me?"
"I meant everything I sa-" Mitchie begins to say only to be cut off.
"Were you hanging out with me for the free things like we joked about?" Shane asks, not easing his hard stare. He himself was trying to keep his emotions in.
"No!" Mitchie shouts frustrated.
"You know Mitchie," Shane says, "I've had people lie to me to get closer to the Shane Gray before. But I never suspected you. I thought you were friends with just Shane."
"Let me ta-" Mitchie says, annoyed that Shane wouldn't even let her defend herself. But she knew that she deserved every harsh thing that Shane was saying to her. He trusted her - he had trusted her anyway.
"You have had your chance to talk before your secret was exposed," Shane says shaking his head at her, refusing to let Mitchie say a word in edge wise; refusing to let her see how upset he was. "But you didn't."
With that he walks out the cabin door, not even glancing back.
Eh. I don't really like it.
Shane seems harsh, but he was really upset.
But still it feels wonky.
Any idea what kind of mood I was in
when I wrote this?