A/N: Yeah, so the idea for this story came to me LATE one night, and it won't leave me alone, so I can't help writing it! I'll still update MD,PDTMOV, but I had to post this.
This story is basically a darker version of Camp Rock. Let's pretend she hasn't gone to Camp Rock, hasn't met Shane, they never fell in love (blah blah) yet. Camp Rock never happened :D. And Mitchie is a little OOC, but I had to make her that way so the story would work. Most of the story is written in Mitchie's POV, except when otherwise indicated. Anyway, give it a chance, and ENJOY!
Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own Camp Rock. But wait... in this story, the movie never happened... where does that leave me?? lol
So fragile, the surface
It's broken and it's worthless
Your pitch of this story
Does nothing else for me
-
Shattered glass inside,
Stains of tears that dried
On a face that I
Never thought she'd cry
Whispers that were said,
Secrets that were kept,
They just turned and left behind inside a
(Shattered glass)
Fight fight fight until the break of dawn, I had learned that through my own experiences. Because if you didn't fight, you would loose. If you didn't fight, you would break down, I knew that from experience too. My mother, Connie, had died three years ago in a car accident, and my father, Steve, had disappeared only six months ago. All the pain was still fresh; the wound had never closed, and I had no doubt that it never would. So now I was living with my Aunt Clara, who, although she took rather good care of me, never fully understood what I was going through. She was lost in her own sorrow for my mom, just as my father had been before he'd vanished. Alone, I had slowly stopped caring. I just got lost inside myself, and even Sierra, who had been my best and only friend, had discontinued talking to me. I hadn't seen her in weeks, and she hadn't even called once. No one understood me; no one knew what I was going through. No one knew that every night, I curled up in my bed and cried myself to sleep. No one knew about the dreams that turned into nightmares, which always included my mom or my dad. Some nights I even woke up screaming. I grew more and more depressed; more and more silent, until I wasn't even aware of what happened around me. And that's when Aunt Clara came to ask me a question.
"Have you heard of Camp Rock?"
"Camp what?" And that's where my story begins.
"Mitchie!" I heard Aunt Clara shout my name, signaling it was time for me to get up. "Hurry up, sweetheart!" With a groan, I pulled the sheets off of me, wishing I could just stay in bed forever. I didn't really care if I spent the rest of my life in bed; what would it matter anyway, no one would care. If I disappeared, like my father had done, no one would miss me. No one would cry at my funeral.
"Come on, honey, it's the last day of school! You don't want to be late!" Aunt Clara yelled. Why would it matter if I was late? Like anyone would even notice if I didn't show up.
"I'm coming!" I replied, quickly pulling on a pair of black jeans and a red t-shirt, along with a pair of boots.
I made my way down the stairs and sat down at the table, where Aunt Clara placed a plate full of bacon and eggs in front of me. I gave her a slight smile, and put a small portion in my mouth, forcing myself to swallow it. My mom had been a caterer, and I'd grown used to her mouth-watering delicious food, and Aunt Clara's just didn't taste the same. She noticed when I pushed the plate away from me, and sighed.
"Darling, please eat your breakfast." She pleaded, but I shook my head. Aunt Clara groaned, picking up my plate. I sat in silence, until Hot Tunes came on.
"Hey, turn it up, please." I said, leaning forwards in my seat. The reporter was talking about pop star Shane Grey.
"Recently, Shane Gray stormed off of set of Connect 's new music video, costing the label millions of dollars. It is clear he needs to clean up his acts, and in order for him to do so, Connect 3's summer tour has been cancelled." I shook my head at the screen.
"Gosh, what is wrong with that boy? He has it all, and yet he has such an attitude problem." I rolled my eyes. Aunt Clara shrugged. After a pause, Aunt Clara stopped washing the dishes and turned to stare at me.
"Have you ever heard of Camp Rock?" She asked, and I frowned.
"Camp what?"
"Camp Rock. It's a music camp."
"Oh." Why was she talking to me about some music camp? I continued frowning but allowed her to continue.
"It's for talented musicians. I was thinking… if you'd like to go, your Uncle and I are more than willing to pay for you." At that, I straightened in surprise.
"But…" I trailed off, gulping. Me, go to a music camp? Aunt Clara raised her eyebrows.
"But what? You're wonderfully talented, Mitchie; you have an amazing voice."
"Yeah, but…" I took a deep breath. Truth be told, I hadn't sung since my mom had died. I used to love to sing, but ever since the accident I had been… afraid. I don't know, I felt like I was betraying my parents in some way. I couldn't explain it, so I just… stopped. "Do I have to go?"
"Yes, Mitchie. Your uncle and I were reading, and it sounds like it would really be good for you." I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could Aunt Clara held up her hands. "It would be best for you. Don't think I haven't noticed you slipping farther away from us each day. This camp would do you a lot of good."
"When do I leave?" I knew better than to argue with Aunt Clara, because once she'd made up her mind, there was no stopping her.
"In three days. So go on and enjoy your last day of school, and when you come home you can start packing. Agreed?"
"Agreed." I sighed, and Aunt Clara smiled, kissing my forehead.
"Have fun." Yeah right.
I dumped my backpack on my bed and dropped down next to it. The last day of school was supposed to be exciting and fun, but my day had been anything but that. First, I'd missed the bus, so I'd had to run all the way to school, which was three miles away. So, fast-walking down the hall in my sweaty clothes, I'd just managed to reach my first class as they were closing the door. Thankfully, my teacher, Mr. Brown, had let me in and let me off with a warning. And then in gym, our teacher had made us run six laps, and it was on the sixth lap that the school bully, Kara, had tripped me, causing me to rip my jeans and skin my knees. And Sierra wouldn't even look at me; she had started hanging around with the "popular" group, of which Kara was the queen bee. The sad thing was, I didn't even care.
"Mitchie, time to start packing!" Aunt Clara popped her head into my room, smiling brightly. I moaned when she handed me a large suitcase. Oh well, I was going to Camp Rock, whether I wanted to or not. Not that I really cared what I did. With a sigh, I opened my closet and began to pick out my clothes.
Shane's POV
"You have got to be kidding!" I yelled, my eyes burning a hole into the director, who stuttered, mumbled something incoherent, and turned to run. No way, no way, no way would I wear those clothes they had picked out for me. Sparkles are for girls, not Connect 3. Literally, the whole jacket was covered in sequenes - I had seen girls clothes that had less sparkles. And they had pants to match...
"Dude!" Nate and Jason marched over to me, looking annoyed. "Don't screw this up! Why do you have to be so difficult?"
"Why are you wearing those sparkling clothes, huh?" I shot back, scanning my friends' outfits, causing both to blush. Nate, however, shook his head fiercely.
"What do you want us to do? Now, go and get dressed so we can shoot this video." He ordered, and I turned to stare a him, letting out a dry, humorless laugh.
"No."
"Shane!" Nate nearly screamed in frustration. "Do you realize what you're going to cost us?"
"I don't care. About any of it. Let them do whatever they want. I don't care." Let Nate and Jason deal with it, I wasn't putting up with their crap. With that, I stood, throwing the jacket and pants on the floor, and stormed off the set without a backwards glance.
