So here it is, my first chapter. I know it's short, but the chapters will get longer as I go. I also know it's kinda slow. But soon everything will heat up! I swear! Soon, Mitchie will have to deal with a very angry, very hurt Shane. Also, don't you want to know why Mitchie skip a summer at Camp Rock?
So continue reading, and of course, REVIEW YOUR BUTTS OFF! I need reviews, or I'll die.
Always yours, Stacey. :D
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I'm Mitchie Torres. And I'm on my way to destroying everything I ever loved.
I sat in the front seat of my father's Jeep, staring out the open window, watching as the forests that bordered the Interstate flew by. I was overly aware of my surroundings today, my eyes and ears trained to the every smell and sound of the wilderness around me. I could almost sense Camp Rock on the horizon and my heart began to beat irregularly in response. I wasn't ready for this sort of strain.
"Mitchie mouse, you okay?" My father, Steve Torres, glanced at me anxiously, the concern in his eyes as obvious as the nose on his face. I turned to face him, the false smile I'd come accustomed to faking in the last year firmly in place. "Better then okay," I replied, forcing enthusiasm into my voice. His eyebrow rose and I knew I hadn't fooled him. "Liars go to hell," he mumbled irritably. He didn't like knowing that his little Mitchie was a liar, he'd rather having gone on being the ignorant father, believing his daughter to be as sweet and innocent as the day she was born. I felt somewhat guilty at that, wishing I could be that perfect daughter.
"I swear," I continued, hoping to discourage his suspicions. "I'm just really, really, really nervous, haven't been to Camp rock for what, two years?" My father nodded, believing me now. "Yup," he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows, "think your ready to see your friends?" I groaned at the way he'd said friends, knowing he was speaking of only one, particular friend. Shane Grey. "Well duh," I faked a giggle and turned to stare out the window again, "I just hope he hasn't forgot about me." My father scoffed, oozing that 'my-daughter's-the-best-he'll-ever-get-' smugness. "Of course he'll remember you!" I cringed, wishing that truly wasn't the case. If the gods cared for me at all, every last one of my summer-friends would have forgotten me all together. I hadn't seen or talk to them in two, very long years. I had ignored their calls and deleted their emails and text messages, thrown out any actual mail they'd bother to send, and on one very depressing occasion, even avoided them in person. There had been a Connect Three concert in town and Shane, Nate and Jason – being overly nice guys - had decided to drop in. Without much thought to it, my mother had sent them straight up to my room and prayed their sudden appearance would be good for me. It might have been, had I not scaled the side of my house and hide in the garage until I was sure they were gone.
"We're here!" Torn from my thoughts by my father's excitement, I stared up at the Camp sign that hung ominously above our car, a sudden sense of dread overwhelming me. I gasped, all the air escaping from my lungs in one, meaningful whoosh. I slouched against the Jeep's old leather and tried to breath again, my chest rising and falling rapidly. I definitely wasn't ready for this. But I couldn't run away now, I had to stay. Camp Rock was the only place I could clear my head. And boy oh boy, did my poor little head near clearing.