Disclaimer: I do not own Camp Rock or any of its characters. I also do not own "Chai Tea Latte" by Angel Taylor, for if I said I did, I would be a crazy liar.

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"Ugh, I hate summer," Mitchie Torres whined, leaning her head against the dirty bus window. It was her second summer as a counselor at Camp Rock, and it was boring and unnecessarily sweltering on the bus. There was obviously an air conditioning, but the stubborn bus driver refused to use it. "Builds character," the bus driver had snapped when Mitchie asked for a simple breeze. Heat builds character? No, heat builds sweat, which builds acne! Like she wasn't pimply enough! Mitchie rubbed her forehead consciously and regretted leaving her makeup. Her best friend, Caitlyn Gellar, would have probably laughed at her right now, judging from her change in character. Honestly, she was acting more like another one of her friends, Tess Tyler, than herself. But she really didn't care right now. She was sweaty, she was bored, and most of all, she was totally unsatisfied with her summer job.

Most of the sophmore girls at University of Southern California were working as Starbucks baristas over the summer, wearing trendy aprons and serving ice cold lemonades and chai tea lattes, whereas for Mitchie, the only thing related to chai tea lattes she was doing this summer was listening to all of her Angel Taylor songs on repeat, "Chai Tea Latte" being her favorite. Actually, she could get a head start right now. Mitchie reached inside of her tote bag and pulled out her iTouch, scrolling through the songs until she stopped at Angel Taylor's songs. She scrolled down to "Chai Tea Latte" and pressed play.

You seem like...
Mr. Perfect
Why don't you drive over and pick me up?
I'll wear my best outfit
And people might compliment
Our chocolate and vanilla skin

Mitchie sighed and sifted through the things in her tote. Was her outfit good enough to teach Vocals at Camp Rock on the first day? I mean, if she was a camper, would she be okay with her 19 year old teacher walking into the classroom, actually, according to Brown, a "rehearsals room", wearing a white jersey tee, dark wash skinny jeans, and moccasin boots? Probably not, but what did they expect her to wear? A dress? Yuck. Now was probably the time when she would add in that cute little comment about how "her dashingly handsome boyfriend disagreed and thought that she would look beautiful in a dress" but she and Shane had been getting to on again off again, and she had finally pulled the plug on their relationship. Mitchie was totally fine being single. Being single to her meant waking up in the morning, raking a brush through her hair without worrying if Shane liked it, throwing on some sweats without wondering if Shane liked her in sweats, and curling up on the couch watching reruns of 90210 while shoveling Rocky Road ice cream in her mouth. In her eyes, nothing was better.

"Mitchie!" Peggy Dupree yelled for the fifth time. Mitchie turned around sharply to see who it was and pulled her white earphones out of her ears. Peggy had always had a habit of not shutting up when someone didn't answer her, and now Peggy was folding her arms and staring at Mitchie with a cocked head.

"Michaela Torres, what is your problem?" Peggy asked forcefully. "I've been calling you for the past five minutes!"

"Sorry, Pegs," Mitchie grimaced. "I was kind of—"

"Focusing on something else," Peggy finished. "That's the ONLY thing I've been getting this summer. I've been calling Nate for weeks, hoping that I could possibly get a little phone time in with my boyfriend and all I get is, 'Baby, I'm sorry, I'm focusing on something else' and 'I have to go, but I'll call later'. Oh, yeah, and then when I called Caitlyn—"

"I get it, Peggy," Mitchie said, pushing her iTouch into her bag and pulling out some lip gloss. She scrutinized the tube, making sure that no one else had been using it. Especially her mother. Connie Torres was notorious for trying to look 'young' and 'hip', and she used Mitchie's lip gloss to "accomplish the glam". "I was just listening to music and, you know, thinking about…" she dropped to a low whisper. "…Shane,"

"Ugh, him?" Peggy pursed her lips disapprovingly. "You know, he's probably the reason Nate hasn't been calling me himself. He's probably so excited about Connect 3's "new Shane sound", that he's totally forgetting about me!"

"Aww, Pegs," Mitchie reached into the seat behind her to pat her friend's arm. "No, he's not. Nate even wrote a song for you, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," Peggy softened, then instantly hardened again. "Even though Shane refuses to let him record it. Apparently, it pertains to only one member of the group. Can I help it that Shane's not dating a Peggy? Or that Jason's currently dating a teen sensation who happens to be named Allison?"

"Well, Shane's sinking right back into his snobby ways, and I don't like it," Mitchie narrowed her eyes, thinking about the way Shane had brushed her off when she had seen him at Beverly Hills mall a while ago. She and Tess had been brushing in and out of stores, not really interested in any of the clothing(well, besides when Tess had found a Pucci scarf that she insisted she HAD to have), when they spotted a mop of thick black hair moving towards them. The mop moved closer and screams of, "OH EM GEE, IT'S SHANE GRAY!" followed it. Mitchie, in her excitement at seeing her ex-boyfriend, yet still friend (well, at least she thought they were still friends), had speed-walked towards him and said, "Hey, Shane,". All she received in return was a sideways glance and a light shove. Ugh. If his head got any bigger, it wouldn't fit through the door of his limo. And we all know THAT would be a problem, Mitchie thought.

"He IS starting to get a little big headed. Okay, so maybe their new sound is a hit. But that doesn't mean the lead singer has to go all on everyone," Peggy snorted. "I hope Nate isn't getting snobby. Because if that boy brushes me off one more time, I will stick my foot up his—"

"Hey, calm down," Mitchie's words were jumbled after they hit a bump in the road. "Something tells me we're almost there,"

"Not almost," Peggy cried, excited. "We are here! Counseling, here we come!"

Mitchie moaned in agony. She peeked out the window. Ugh. There they were. The log cabins, lined up, awkward, crowded campers with plastic name tags on lanyards hanging from their necks, and two stretch limos. Wait, two? Mitchie could understand one limo for Tess, who was already leaning on the exterior of her ride, filing her nails, but another?

After walking out of the bus, Mitchie immediately gravitated towards Tess and Ella, Peggy right behind her. Tess looked up from her nail file.

"Mitchie and Peggy!" Tess smiled genuinely, a change from two summers ago, when all Mitchie had gotten was a stare. "Finally, some people we know. Where's Caitlyn?"

"Baltimore Academy of the Arts," Peggy replied. Tess's smile faded.

"Aw," Tess furrowed her brows. "I was hoping we could all share a cabin,"

"That would have been nice," Ella pulled a tube of lip gloss from the pocket of her lemon yellow Bermuda shorts and uncapped it. "You guys have your bags?"

"Right here," Mitchie smacked the handle of her giant black rolling duffel to illustrate. Tess shook her head, amused.

"Ah, Mitchie," Tess checked her reflection in the tinted window of her limo. "Always have been the light packer,"

Mitchie rolled her eyes in the direction of Tess's 5 Louis Vuitton suitcases and laughed. "As have you," she joked.

"Right, so…" Peggy looked at the girls. "Unpack first, then lunch before heading to teach?"

The only thing good about that summer would be that Mitchie could be with some of her friends. Tess would be teaching Celebrity Images and Styles, her forte, Ella would be co-teaching Hip Hop with Baron and Sander, and Peggy was teaching "Composing Your Track", a class on how to compose everything from a rockin' hip-hop beat to a slow and sweet acoustic ballad.

"Sounds good to—oh my God, is that who I think it is?" Tess's mouth dropped as Connect 3 stepped out of the second limo. Jason picked a booger, and wiped it off on the side of the tire. Nate readjusted the guitar case on his back and looked wistfully into the sunset.

"Looks like Nate's got a new song brewing," Ella smirked, looking in Peggy's direction. But Peggy had already ran up to her boyfriend, squealing as she jumped into his arms.

"Nate!" Peggy cried, her voice muffled in Nate's shirt. Nate laughed, putting Peggy down.

"Peggy," Nate kissed her softly. "I missed you,"

"I did, too," Peggy smiled. "Because you didn't call me," she was serious, even though she was still smiling.

"Sorry," Nate sighed, kissing her again. "I felt terrible,"

"Well, then, maybe I'll consider forgiving you," Peggy wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Aww," Tess cooed. "Neggy!"

Mitchie's nose wrinkled and she turned to her friend. "Neggy?"

"Yeah, you know, their dating name. Nate and Peggy put together equals Neggy." Tess shrugged. Ella nodded slowly.

"OMG, that makes total sense," Ella gasped.

"You are perfect for Jason," Mitchie snickered, tilting her head in the direction of the oldest band member. But then her eyes caught on someone. His dark hair glinted in the sun as he shook it out, and his searing stare caught Mitchie's eyes. He smirked. Mitchie's breathing hitched. It was Shane Gray.