Chapter One: Opportunities.

A second before the irritating blare of the alarm clock went on, Mitchie rolled over in bed and unplugged the cord. She sat up on the edge of her bed, crossing her arms together, and shivered. The all too familiar feeling of loneliness engulfed her again. She stared around, at the emptiness of her room and sighed before she stood up.

And so begins the daily ritual. She slowly made her bed, no rush to get anywhere. She picked a simple pair of faded gray jeans, and a white cotton polo to wear that day and lay them on the bed before taking a brisk cold shower. When she was done, she wrapped a white robe around her naked body and lifted the fluffy blue towel from the rack, wrapping it around her hair. She wandered back into her bedroom and sat on the bed. Her eyes wandered to the photo on her dresser. It was of her two years ago, with Shane in a canoe. Both of them looked happy. She felt her eyes moisten as she pushed the frame over. It fell into a crack between the wall and dresser. It hurt.

She took her sweet time drying her hair and slipping into her casual clothes. She folded the towel and hung it back on the rack in the washroom. She retreated into the small kitchenette, closing the bedroom door behind her. She made toast and sat at the small table, nibbling on the corner.Unable to stand the awkward silence that was eating her up, she flung her toast in the garbage, grabbed her smock by the door and left.

"Hey, Sweetie." Her father looked up as she descended down the stairs.

Mitchie slipped the frock over her head. "Hi Dad. Sold anything yet?"

He shook his head as she leaned over the counter and gave him a warm gentle hug.

She pushed the small door by the side open, and took her spot behind the cash register.

They were silent for awhile. Mitchie.. Mitchie knew her father would probably say something

about her living arrangements. He always did. It was always to be expected.

"Are you alright in the apartment?" As expected.

Mitchie shrugged as she punched in a key on the cash register. She took out some bills and began

counting them to distract herself. She really wasn't in the mood to fight with her dad today.

"Yup. Perfectly fine."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather live with your mother and I? You've only just turned 18. Isn't a bit too early? Especially since .." His voice lowered. He hit a nerve in his daughter.

"Since what, dad?" Mitchie snapped. She quickly turned around to face him. "Since the 'incident'?" Taking a moment to use air quotes, she continued. "Well maybe I need some space. Some air to breathe, some space to think. Maybe I need .. some independence."

He looked slightly hurt. "You're too young for space, Mitchie. Right now, all you need is someone to take care of you." He turned and slowly began to walk away. "Oh yea, you got a letter." He threw an envelope and it softly landed on the counter. Before she could say 'Thank You.' He was gone.

It was from Camp Rock. Why would they mail her? Curious as she was, she opened it and began to read.

Dear Ms. Michaella Torres,

Camp Rock is understaffed this year and you were considered for a spot on the staff.

We have the perfect job for you. Camp Rock recalled the marvelous performance of your

original song at Final Jam two years ago. We would love if you considered this opportunity.

Now enough of that formal stuff, love. A couple of our leaders have left us because

they decided to go off and get married or some story like that. And someone popped into my

mind. 'Mitchie Torres!' You always had a thing for music and your voice was exceptionally lovely.

You would have a junior position of course, considering your young age, but we would love to

have you here. A few campers have requested you as well.

How are you, anyways? You only went for that one year. The food after that summer

was extremely horrible. All sticky and odd, you know. Tell your mother I send my regards!

Please RSVP ator send to the return address on the envelope.

Feel free to call our number as well, dear. 1-46CAMPROCK.

Sincerely,

Brown Cesario

Mitchie placed the letter slowly on the counter, quietly debating her decision in her mind.

Camp Rock? But why would they ... I couldn't go back. No. No. No. What if he's there? Wait,

why would he be there? He's 19 now, fully capable of making his own decisions...

Mitchie needed a push. Something to start her off. She needed a bit of independence. She need to get away. Just for awhile.

"Camp Rock, huh?"

Mitchies eyes shot up to the doorway, where her mothers petite body was leaning on the frame, arms crossed and eyeing the envelope.

"Yea. They want me to come back as a junior counselor or something." Mitchie sighed, discarding the envelope.

"Are you going to take it?" Her mother questioned, with a hint of concern in her voice. She walked up to the counter and picked up the letter, preparing to read it herself.

"I don't know." Mitchie frowned, her eyes resting on something in the distance. She hadn't completely made up her mind yet. She fiddled with the ends of her hair.

"You should." Connie advised, her eyes studiously scanning through the letter. She suddenly looked up at her daughter. "You haven't been yourself in awhile. I could help dad around the store more, and we could hire your cousin. Maybe you need to take a break."

"But what about dad?"

"Oh. He'll learn to live." Connie's face erupted into an encouraging smile.

Mitchies mind was made up. It couldn't hurt. "Sure. Why not?"