United…We're Connect 3

Chapter 1

NPOV

I slammed the door, eager to get out of the tiny car, away from my mother, my step-father, and my step-brother.

"Goodbye, sweet-pea," my mom called out the window, waving. I managed a weak grimace, waving back. The car backed away, leaving me standing on the dirt, surrounded by my bags, and guitar cases, which held my favorite electric and acoustic guitars.

The car disappeared, and I picked up my things.

Camp Rock was a very beautiful camp. I could just see a sparkling lake behind the mess hall. I grinned. Finally. A whole summer away from my family, surrounded by music and people who love music.

I made my way to the Beach Jam stage. Everyone seemed to be leaving their stuff near there, so, hesitating, I put my stuff down and wandered closer.

This was my first year at Camp Rock. I was finally 13, the minimum age acceptance here. Everywhere I looked, older teenagers were talking and laughing, greeting new friends.

One boy, several years older than me, sat alone. His straight hair hung in his face, and he had on expensive looking boots.

I wondered, dimly, why he wasn't talking with anyone.

Nearer to the stage, I saw a girl maybe my age, sitting with a laptop. She was a definite tomboy, her straight hair in a ponytail, resting on her back, almost covering the "30" on her football jersey.

I sat down on the benches near the stage. She looked up at me and smiled. I smiled back, and she came over.

"Hi," I greeted her.

"Hi. Is this your first year, too?" she asked, sounding a bit shy, as I did.

"Yeah." I held out my hand. "I'm Nathan Black."

"Caitlyn Gellar." The girl shook my hand, then peered at it. "Ouch, that's a nasty bruise."

I snatched it away. "It's nothing…" Lie! my thoughts screamed at me. "My, err, brother slammed the door on it." Well, it half the truth.

The real truth? He meant to do it.

"Yikes," she said sitting down next to me and glancing around nervously. "Is he here this year?"

"Who, Mike?" I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, like he'd ever come to a music camp. He can't even play the bongos."

Caitlyn laughed.

A shorter woman with red hair bounded on the stage. "Hey, people!" she said. "I'm Dee La Duke, your musical director. I hope everyone is ready for a great year at Camp Rock."

The crowd cheered.

"This year, there is a special surprise for Final Jam. But I won't tell you know! So go get your cabin assignments, grab your stuff, and let's go!"

The crowd cheered again. Caitlyn and I stood up.

"Well, see you around," she said before disappearing.

"See ya."

Everyone seemed to be heading for the array of cabins, their stuff in hand, so I followed them, picking up my stuff as I went.

At first glance, I could tell I was going to need a second trip. My bag was huge…and half full. I'd tried to tell my mother I needed a smaller bag, but you know mothers.

I grabbed my guitar case holding my sacred electric guitar. It was a bit too special to bring to camp, but I was not about to leave it with Mike.

Remembering my step-brother, the bruise on my hip suddenly seemed a lot more painful. I winced and sighed.

The cabin assignments were posted outside the cabins. I approached the first one.

Scanning the list, I could tell I wasn't in that one.

Too bad. That one seemed closest to the mess hall.

It took me about half an hour to find the cabin. It was near the lake, and had three beds inside, smaller than the others, which had four or five.

Sighing, I opened the door and looked inside.

It was nice, clean, and sturdy. My footsteps echoed as I walked inside. No one else was there, even though there where two other names on the list.

Gray, Shane

Michaels, Jason

I threw my guitar case onto the bed nearest the window and looked around again. Outside the window, you could see the lake really well.

"Hiya!"

The loud voice made me jump. I turned.

One of my roommates stood in the doorway. I recognized him as the kid I'd seen earlier, sitting alone. This time, he held a guitar case and a duffel bag. I realized he was about Mike's age. Fear pricked automatically inside me, but I managed to get a grip.

"Hi," I said.

"I'm Jason! Are you Nate or Shane?"

"Nate."

"Cool! You seem young, are you new here? This is my fifth year!" Jason was like an excited puppy. I could already tell that. Maybe he was the nice kind of eighteen year old.

I blinked, caught off guard by his whirlwind words. "Yeah. This is my first year. Any news on the way things run around here?"

He threw his stuff down on the bed on the other side of the room. "Yea. Don't talk to James Sanders. He's a bitch." Jason smiled at me.

I laughed. "Okay then. I'll be right back, my stuff is still outside."

Jason nodded. "Yeah, kinda figured when all you have is a guitar case. Unless all your clothes are in there, instead of a guitar."

I looked fondly at the black case. "Nope. Just my guitar. Later." I sprinted out the cabin door.

When I got back, the other boy, Shane, presumably, was sitting on the last bed in the cabin.

Jason was sitting on his bed, reading a book.

Shane Gray turned out to be one of those guys. His hair was short, but styled in a different way. His clothes were dark, sleek, his Converse shoes dark gray.

He looked up from his guitar when I stepped inside. "Newbie. Cool. 'Sup, I'm Shane."

"Nate. Jason, what are you reading?"

"Book on birds," Jason answered. "I'm going bird watching."

"Why?" Shane asked.

"Birds are cool," Jason said defensively.

"Loser," Shane coughed, and smirked at me.

I frowned at him. I could tell Jason had heard him, but remained quiet.

Shane rolled his eyes and returned to his guitar.

I tossed my stuff onto the bed and opened my guitar case.

"So…" I said after a long moment of silence, besides Shane's guitar tuning. "What are you guys here for?"

"Guitar, voice, dance," Shane answered promptly.

"Same." Jason didn't look up from his book.

"That's weird," I muttered. "So am I. But I have to take Music, um…"

"Introduction?" Shane asked. "Yeah, I took it two years ago. It's only for a week, so they know where you are in music."

"Yeah, that," I said. I leaned against my bags.

Big mistake. I rubbed right where my newest bruise was on my back. With a yelp I leapt up, wincing and rubbing the spot.

"Damn," I moaned.

Shane and Jason looked up at me. "What's wrong with you?" Shane asked.

"Nothing," I said, letting my hand drop. "Something…stabbed me."

Shane rolled his eyes again. Jason continued to study me. I shrugged at him and took out my sacred guitar. It was the first musical instrument I'd ever gotten…and it was from my dad; my real dad, that is.

They left amps in the cabins for us, a cool plus about this place. I tuned my guitar in a second, and strummed some blues, the sound turned down.

Jason looked up at me again. "Sweet," he said. "Let me try." He reached down under his bed, grabbed his guitar and plugged it into his amp.

"This'll be good," Shane snorted.

"Yeah, actually, it will!" Jason said enthusiastically. His fingers danced along the neck of his black guitar.

Both our jaws dropped. It wasn't anything I'd heard before, but it was good!

"You wrote that?" I asked.

"What, that? Yep, I was bored. Random moment." Jason shrugged.

"Dang, bird-boy," Shane said. "That was good. Like, House of Blues, good."

"Thanks," Jason said.

I shook my head. "How long have you been playing?"

"Umm…" Jason's brow furrowed. "Six, seven years."

"Really?" I whistled. "I've been playing longer, but I'm no where as good."

Jason shrugged. "Try something."

"Yea, come on afro!" Shane encouraged.

"Afro?" I repeated. "Is that what you just called me?"

"Maybe. Now play."

I glowered, the insult hurting a bit down inside. Then, shrugging it off, I picked up my pick and played a song that was meant for acoustic, but could work on electric.

"Hey, that's pretty good!" Jason said. "What song is that?"

"I…I don't know," I lied. "I made it up."

No, it had a name.

Tragic Melody.

Kinda pathetic, but for all it's worth…it fits.