Camp Rock!?
AN: Second Chapter! Enjoy!
Disclaimer, I don't own Camp Rock or any of their characters.
Warning: Their are some disturbing images in this chapter. (beating descriptions) Don't like, don't read.
Present Day….
Jason POV
It has been eleven long years since the day my sister was taken from me. Eleven years since I have seen her beautiful face in anything but a picture, heard her laugh, held her in my arms. It has been five years since I first went to Camp Rock, five years since Shane, Nate, and I became best friends and got signed onto a record deal as Connect 3, five years since I moved out of my parents house and moved in with Nate and Shane. I have been looking for my sister everyday since I moved out and still have yet to find her. I recently turned eighteen this year and on my eighteenth birthday talked to a lawyer and a judge about gaining custody over my sister if I ever find her before she turns eighteen. She is fifteen almost sixteen today. That is if she is still alive… Jason stop thinking like that. After I explained the situation to the judge he granted me custody over her on two conditions: one, I find her before she is eighteen, and two, she wants to be transfered into my care. The second shouldn't be a problem, the first….
Neither Shane nor Nate know that I have a sister, in fact no one knows I have a sister except me, the judge, and the lawyer. Neither of my bandmates could understand why I spent my eighteenth birthday talking with a judge. They won't understand until I find her. Every concert, every tour, I look at the ticket purchase list to see if my sister's name is on there. It never is. I sighed and took the picture out of my pocket to look at again. My mother took it on Mitchie's fourth birthday, that last day that I saw her. I wonder why my mother even took the picture because after my sister was gone, my parents got rid of every piece of evidence that Mitchie was ever there. I took all of her belongings and threw them in my closet and tried to save as many pictures as I could of her. In this particular picture, we were sitting in our favorite chair and I was tickling her. She looked so happy, so carefree. I smiled as I remembered the way she would laugh when I but touched her stomach. I felt tears come to my eyes and quickly wiped them away. Oh Mitchie, I thought. Where are you?
Mitchie POV
The first thing that I noticed when I woke up was the searing pain running through my whole body. The second thing I noticed was that the sun was up. I sat up fast, jumped up and ran into the kitchen. I saw Richard and Elizabeth sitting at the table.
"Why isn't our breakfast ready?" Richard yelled at me.
"D-D-Désolé. J'ai t-trop d-d-dormi." I nervously stuttered as I turned on the stove and started making their eggs. I have only spoken french since I was taken from my brother. I still understand and speak english, I just refuse to speak it, though I sometimes sing in english. Richard and Elizabeth both know french and know that I still understand english so everything speaking wise is good.
"If I overslept whenever I felt like it I would get fired now hurry up or we will be late and that won't be good for you when we get home." Richard scolded.
"Oui Monsieur." I replied as I finished the eggs and served them with their coffee.
It was the same routine every morning. Get up, make breakfast, Richard and Elizabeth leave, I clean the entire house, they come home and inspect it, they give me a beating based on breakfast and the cleanliness of the house, I make dinner, they tell me where and when I can sleep and whether or not I get food, they go to bed, and finally, sometimes I go to bed. Some days are different. Some days they take me out and I have to perform one of the songs that I wrote for a crowd and make money for them. That is all they use me for, money, beatings, and as a slave. Music is my only escape from this horrible life I am living.
I am broken from my thoughts when the door slams shut with Richard yelling at me to finish my chores and gather all of my clothes before they get home. That's a new one. He's never told me to gather my clothes before. Oh well. I guess I will find out what that means later. I start cleaning up the dishes, then the house. I gather my clothes and put them in the pillowcase they gave me to keep what little belongings I have in. My belongings include a couple pairs of dirty, old clothes, my guitar, my book of songs that I have written, and the locket around my neck that I cannot open because my brother has the key.
My brother. I haven't seen or heard anything about him in eleven years. I wonder what he's up to these days. I wonder if he still remembers and misses me. I really wish I could see him again. I wonder if he would even recognize me, I have really changed since the last time he saw me. Even though I haven't been eating much, courtesy of the Torres', I really have shot up, height wise. I am really skinny, practically skin and bones, once again from the little food I get to eat. I am more muscular than most girls though, which is probably due to doing chores everyday which includes moving every single piece of furniture everyday. I still have dark brown eyes and hair. In fact my hair, surprisingly, is straight and super soft and neat, I also have bangs, I don't like them though they get in my eyes and make it hard to see. My brother used to kiss my forehead right on my hairline. I wonder what he looks like now. He's probably really handsome. I vowed I would tell my brother everything that happened to me since I was sold, if we ever find each other. I really miss him.
I finished my chores around 1:30 pm and sat down to write another song. Most of my songs are about my life, the day I was sold, or my brother. I never wanted to see my parents again, and Richard and Elizabeth are more like my owners than parents. They treat me like property, not a person. The song that I started writing today was kind of a new genre for me. I wrote about the happy times that I spent with my brother.
I was just finishing up when Richard and Elizabeth walked in the door. I jumped up, walked over to the door, bowed to them, took their coats and bags, put them away, and stood by the door while they inspected my work. After about half an hour they came back and told me to go outside to the shed and pull out the whip and board that they used to beat me each day. I did as I was told. Richard then came outside and told me to remove my shirt. I did.
"You will receive forty lashings and thirty smacks with the board today for your mishap with breakfast and the horrible job you did at cleaning the house." Richard told me as he tied my hands to the lashing pole, as I called it. My beating ensued and when he was through he told me to put my shirt back on and put the whip and board away, then return to the kitchen. I did as I was told. After I had arrived and was standing in my corner of the kitchen Elizabeth spoke to me.
"You will be attending Camp Rock this summer, on a scholarship mind you." she told me.
Of course, I thought. They hate spending any money on me.
"You will perform a solo in the Final Jam and win, receiving the reward of money or fame. Richard and I will be in the crowd for Final Jam. Grab your stuff, we leave in two minutes" Elizabeth informed me.
I was shocked. I was going to a summer camp solely based on music for an entire summer!? Richard and Elizabeth never let me stay away from the house for longer than a performance. I quickly got my pillowcase of belongings and my guitar and went out to the car.
I was lost in thought the entire drive. I had never talked to any kids my age before. I was scared. What was going to happen with food and sleep. Do I still wait for someone to tell me where and when to sleep and when and what to eat? I was so lost at what I was going to do. The best part of the summer would be no beatings, even though I knew they would get worse when I returned to the Torres' house.
All too soon, we pulled up to the entrance. Richard told me to get out. I got out of the car and walked into the entrance. I looked around in awe at the woods, cabins, stage, and teenagers. A man walked up to me, smiled and said, "Welcome to Camp Rock, poppet."
Shane POV
"Tell me again why I have to go to this stupid camp?" I questioned my bandmates, Nate Black and Jason Green. I am sitting in our limo on our way to Camp Rock. As I look at my bandmates, who are sitting across from me, I notice Jason is in his own little world. I wonder what he's thinking about because he looks sad.
"First of all, don't call Camp Rock stupid, it is where we met, became great friends, and started our band. Second, you are going because your attitude needs to change." Nate informs me, drawing me out of my reverie of studying Jason.
"And you think that me spending a summer at Camp Rock is going to fix my attitude?" I question.
"Hopefully, because otherwise I think we are going to lose our record deal. Especially since you stormed off the set of our music video and got this tour cancelled." Nate told me, giving me a small glare.
"Any help, Jason?" I asked as I turned to our third member, drawing him out of his thoughts. I saw him quickly tuck something back in his pocket and wipe his eyes. Wait, did Jason just wipe his eyes or am I seeing things? I have never once seen Jason cry or even come close to crying.
"As long as you fix your attitude so we can continue going on tours, then I don't care how it happens." Jason stated staring me in the eye. Did I forget to mention that he is a little upset about this tour being cancelled? Jason practically lives to go on tour, and I have no idea why. Personally I hate going on tour because we rarely ever get a chance to actually be the tourists, and because tours take up so much time and I just want a regular vacation, maybe spend some time with my parents?
"Thanks for the help Jason." I told him sarcastically.
"Hey, cheer up, Shane. We will be joining you for Final Jam." Jason told me as he put a hand on my knee.
"Great! Really looking forward to it." I replied sarcastically. We pulled up to the entrance of Camp Rock.
"We are here." Nate told me as he handed me my guitar, opened the door, and pushed me out of the limo. He closed the door and rolled the window down as the limo started to drive away. "Oh, I forgot to mention, you are recording a song with the winner of Final Jam!" he called as the limo drove away.
"What?! I am not doing that!" I yelled back at him.
"Bye, Shane! Try to have fun." Jason called to me as the limo disappeared from sight. I sighed, turned, and looked at the sign. This is going to be a LONG summer, I thought.
AN: Translation
Désolé. J'ai trop dormi. - I'm sorry. I overslept.
Oui Monsieur - Yes, sir.