Hey guys, I took forever huh? Just didn't feel like writing. Sorry. D: So I thought you deserved a chapter. :) We'll see Caitlyn the next chapter, alright? BY THE WAY. I love you guys, your the best reviewers, I mean 43 reviews for 3 chapters? :O Keep reviewing. Get to 50 reviews. Thanks. Anyway, enjoy. XD - Sapphire Rosie

Disclaimer: Too lazy to be creative. Me don't own Camp Rock.

Shane's POV. 2 pm. Last Day of Camp.

"Hey Shane!" I heard someone call. I turned around to look, and realized it was Nate. I wasn't really in the mood to talk to them at the moment. Jason showed up also. I still sat there, on my dock, on mine and Mitchie's dock, on OUR dock, silent.

"Shane, come on!" Jason called, throwing a pebble at me. It hit my arm and I quickly muttered a curse word. I got up and turned to them.

"What are you guys doing here?" I wondered out loud.

"Uh, to pick you up from camp. DUH." Nate answered the question as if it was the stupidest thing in the world. I glared at him, and he changed his face and tone.

"Damn, already?" I asked, thinking about Mitchie. I lived nearly 6 hours away from this wilderness. How was I supposed to see Mitchie at the hospital?

"Yeah, limo's waiting outside. Come on." Nate replied, and started walking.

"Uh, can you tell them to wait? I need some time to.. pack." I said, realizing I still hadn't packed. I also decided I'd squeeze some thinking into my packing time.

"You haven't PACKED?" Nate said in disbelief. He turned around and walked towards me. "A couple weeks ago, you were more then willing to go back home, and now you tell me you still haven't packed?"

"Oh, and can I have my birdhouse now?" Jason spoke up.

"Shut up Jason. I'll leave when I want to leave, ALRIGHT NATE?" I shouted.

"What's gotten into you man?" Nate asked. "Is it.. that girl? Is she going to affect our band?"

"MITCHIE HAS DONE NOTHING BAD. She's the REASON WHY I CHANGED MY ATTITUDE!" I yelled, mad that Nate thought Mitchie was the bad person. She was hurt, for gods sake.

"Well it doesn't look like she changed you." Nate muttered, unafraid.

"Where'd you put my birdhou--" Jason put in again.

"Shut up Jason! Nate, just, let me go think."

"Think about what? That Mitchie, girl? Who got a couple bruises? Your gonna let that effect our brotherness? Our band?"

I ignored him and stomped my way off to my cabin. I didn't know what was his problem. He was always business this, business that. What was wrong with him? How could you be so inconsiderate? Obviously, he heard about my situation from Uncle Brown.

I stepped into my cabin and rested on my bed. How would I be able to see Mitchie in her coma while I was so many miles away? It wasn't like I could just magically fly over there every time. I was busy, I had fans, I had concerts, I had signings.

But Nate, no matter how hard he put it, he was right. I couldn't let Mitchie affect our band and my passion. But I didn't want to forget about Mitchie. She deserved to live. I was going to bring her on tour with us, so she could share her voice with everyone. Her amazing voice.

While I was thinking, I was packing. Then, I saw it. A letter. I opened it and read it.

Dear Shane,

I know you probably hate me for lying to you and everyone else. I am different though. I wasn't lying when I said I loved your song. I wasn't Shane. Believe me. I wasn't lying when I said I wanted to be your friend. But in class today, when you kept looking at me. It was.. intimidating. And how you spoke about Final Jam, while looking at me. It hurt. It hurt bad. And Shane, I wasn't lying. I just wanted to be.. with Tess. Because she makes me feel, powerful. That I was useful... I wanted to fit in, because at home, I only have one friend, and I'm not very happy about that.

Shane, you know when you were talking about, your music has to describe how you feel? Well, here's a song I wrote.

"This Is Real, This is Me

I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be,

Gonna let the light, Shine on me,

Now I've found, who I am,

There's no way to hold it in,

No more hiding who I want to be...

This is Me..."

I know it isn't that good. If you read this letter, and you believe me, please don't hesitate to talk to me.

Sincerely,

Mitchie Torres.

P.S. I hope I'll see you and talk to you again.

I smiled, if I had only seen that letter before... "Mitchie Torres. I promise I'll see you again. But I have my duties, and you have yours. So dream while in your coma, and I'll be back. I promise." I said outloud, I knew, that in some insane way, Mitchie would hear me.

So I finished packing my bags, I took one big look around my cabin. And I closed its doors. "Mitchie you'll be alright." I said looking out around camp. And I walked out to the limo and I slid inside.

--

Throughout the drive I noticed a calendar, with lots of writing on it. "Hey Nate, what's this?" I asked, curiously studying it.

"Oh, that's our schedule, signings, concerts and stuff." Nate told me. He continued arguing with Jason about which radio station to listen too.

"Classical music, it's so nice.. and soft.. and nice.. and I've always wanted to take ballet." Jason said, turning the dial to a classical music station.

"Ballet. You? Ha, I'd like to see you jump around that stage." Nate snapped, turning the dial again to a pop station. I didn't notice much though, because I was looking at the schedule.

"Hey Nate, what's this blank spot here, on the 4th of September?" I asked Nate, noticing that there was nothing written on the certain date.

"Resting Day. Jason's psychologist suggested it." Nate answered, while changing the dial. I laughed at that comment.

Jason took that offensively. "I do NOT have a psychologist, I have a CONSULTANT." Jason fought back, turning the dial back again.

"Well you should get one. Who in the right mind would listen to this kind of music? The guys name doesn't even make any sense." Nate snapped. I smiled at the fourth of September. Mitchie.

"SHAAAAANE, make him stop." Jason whined, like a little kid. I looked up.

"Uh, Nate? You have an iPod."

"Oh... right."

--

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