Chapter 2

My own version of Camp Rock told in Shane's point of view

I went around camp for a while, getting a couple of looks from some girls. They started chasing me, but I lost them. I went for a mini-hike (if you call walking up a hill a hike) and then three hours later, I couldn't take it anymore and I called Nate.

I walked while I talked on the phone with my band members. "Come on guys," I begged. "I learned my lesson. I showered in cold water, I have looked at a tree… it's been three hours, and I need hair products!"

"I guess it's time to embrace the natural look," Nate said.

"Well have fun," Jason laughed.

I scoffed. "Guys!" I looked at my phone and saw that they had hung up. I rolled my eyes and walked a little bit more, putting my cell phone back in my pocket.

Much to my horror, a bunch of girls started to scream. "Ahh! There he is!" one of them yelled.

I looked back and saw a mob of girls chasing after me. I panicked and then ran. I turned the corner of one of the cabins, and then tripped over a branch. I fell to the ground and scraped my knee on a rock. "Mother fucker!" I screamed and grabbed my knee. I cried out in pain. Everything was hurting, especially my wrist. I looked at it and saw that it was swelling up. Great. I tried to stay as quiet as I could while the mob rushed past me.

"Where'd he go?" one of the girls asked, looking around.

I started breathing heavily, and then heard someone… singing.

"Do you know what it's like, to feel so in the dark? To dream about a life where you're the shining star? Even though it seems, like it's too far away, I have to believe in myself, it's the only way," the voice sang. It sounded awful.

I pushed myself up from the dirt, wiping off my pants. I went into the cabin it was coming from and saw a girl sitting at the piano. She had long dark-brown hair with side-swept bangs. She had a red top on with blue jeans. The girl was wearing some disgusting brown boots. "What the hell is with all this racket?!" I screamed at the girl.

She looked up at me and looked like she was about to cry. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She ran away. I raced after her. "Who are you?" I asked her.

The girl looked up at me. "Um… I'm… uh…"

I rolled my eyes. "Come on. What's your name?"

"Mitchie… my name's Mitchie," she held out a hand for me to shake it, but I just stared at it.

"What kind of a name is Mitchie?" I sneered.

Mitchie gave me a hurt look. "Umm… thanks? I gotta go," she turned to walk away, but I stopped her.

"Mitch, wait," I put one of my hands on her shoulder.

She turned around. "What?"

I gave her a hard glare. "Mitch… You suck. Offense intended."

Mitchie looked hurt.

"Do the world a favor and don't sing, how 'bout that?" I sneered. I know what you're thinking: Oh my God! That was really mean! Well guess what, I'm a mean person so it all works out.

She scoffed. "You're not a very nice person,"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, and who are you to be telling me that? Look, I have more important things to do than to save the world one horrible singer at a time; I probably just broke my wrist, running from a mob of screaming girls, and I'm going to make sure my band knows that they hurt me," I stormed off and used my good hand to dial Nate's number. He picked up on the second ring. "Nate, you little son of a bitch! The second I get my hands on you, I'm going to kick your ass!"

Nate was taken aback. "What'd I do – or didn't do – this time?"

I talked as I walked over to the nurse's cabin. "Thanks to you, I tripped and hurt my wrist," I yelled.

"I didn't push you," Nate scoffed.

"Yeah, but you sent me to this camp, causing me to get attacked by girls, causing me to run away, causing me to fall, causing me to hurt my wrist… got it?"

"Sure you hurt your wrist," I heard Jason say.

"Oh shut up, Jason! If you guys were here, you'd see that I was in some serious pain. I hope you're happy!" I yelled to the phone. I walked into the cabin. "Look, I gotta go and get my wrist fixed. If I die, stay away from my funeral," I hung up the phone and shoved it into the pocket of my skinny jeans.

The nurse came over to me. "Yes Shane?"

I held out my wrist. "And it's all Nate's fault…" I muttered.

"He pushed you?" she asked.

I rolled my eyes. "He might have well had… If I die, you make sure they feel awful about the whole thing."

She looked at my wrist. "You're not going to die," she reassured, and took out an icepack, shoving it at me. "Put this on your wrist and get over your little boo-boo."

I narrowed my eyes and took the icepack from her, setting it gently on my wrist, slightly wincing at the pain. The nurse wrapped my wrist up and then I left her cabin. God damn it, how am I going to play guitar with my wrist in such a critical condition? I went back to Uncle Brown's cabin and stormed in. "Uncle Brown, we have a problem!"

Uncle Brown looked up from the computer. "What?" he asked.

I plopped myself down on his bed and held out my wrist. "Look at this, Uncle Brownie, look!"

My uncle hates his little nickname. He glared at me and then looked at my wrist. "Looks like you hurt your wrist…"

"No shit, Sherlock!" I scoffed. "And it's all thanks to your stupid camp!"

He put his hands on his hips. "You need to stop being so rude. Need I remind you that you used to love this camp?"

"Well this camp sure doesn't love me! Look at what it did to me!" I pointed to the hole in my brand-new skinny jeans.

When I felt like Brownie couldn't care less, I rolled my eyes and went back to my private cabin, falling asleep even though it was only seven.