Camp Rock: You’re The Missing Piece I Need, The Song Inside Of Me - Part Two
You’re The Missing Piece I Need, The Song Inside Of Me
fieryrogue
Cook continued walking, kicking a rock in the path with his boot. He was so mad he considered never returning to camp. Wouldn’t that just be the funniest thing ever? If he just continued walking and walking and left everyone wondering whatever became of him? It’d be like a family legend. “He walked off into the forest and was never seen again. We never should’ve treated him like a baby.”
The trees grew thicker around him, indicating he’d made it to the dead zone between Camp Star and Camp Rock. A line existed somewhere around there, but even he remembered that some years ago the old fence that followed that line had finally given up and collapsed. As far as he knew that fence had yet to be replaced, though bits of the old one probably still gave a good indication of its placement. The thing was, the underbrush had grown up so much that any little pieces remaining were probably lost under the ferns. He could’ve been anywhere by then.
He’d been leaning one hand against a tree for balance when a sound met his ear, one that was decidedly non-foresty. In fact, Cook could’ve sworn that the birds had stopped singing and the squirrels had stopped scurrying in order to allow for this surprise. Holding perfectly still, Cook finally made out very faint singing.
It wasn’t exactly unusual to hear people singing around camp. It was, after all, something like a hundred combined acres of musical expression across two campgrounds. But to be perfectly honest, a lot of that musical expression was pretty terrible. Especially since he was almost certainly on Camp Rock grounds by now, and everyone knew that Camp Rock had an open policy as far as admittance was concerned. As in, they didn’t even have to send in an audition tape or anything. Pretty dumb in his opinion, but that was probably why Camp Star produced more superstars than Camp Rock ever did. So it definitely surprised him to be confronted by this soft but pleasant singing coming from maybe fifty feet away.
The overgrown shrubbery kept his line of sight obscured, but the voice continued to permeate the air, slowly rising as the singer apparently felt more confident in his solitude. Cook felt badly for about a half a second, but then got over it because it turned out the kid could really sing. He wondered if he should try to recruit this obvious talent to Camp Star immediately.
Wanting to get a closer look at this individual (because honestly, he was quickly falling in love with that voice, he might as well attach a face to it as well), Cook tried moving around the thick tree as quietly as possible. A squirrel darted across his foot, startling him, which no matter how hard he tried to prevent it, sent him into a helicoptering-arm forward freefall, face down into some sticker bushes.
The singing stopped abruptly.
A beat of dead quiet held the world on pause until Cook could hear his forest companion hustling in the opposite direction, surely embarrassed that he’d been caught so far out from camp.
“Wait,” Cook tried to call out, though he was still fighting off some sort of vine wrapped around his ankle. “Ugh, don’t go away, you idiot,” he muttered under his breath.
But it was too late. By the time Cook could get to where he thought the mystery singer might have been hanging around, the place had been completely deserted. Another squirrel -- or heck, it was probably the same damn one -- timidly crept out from behind a nearby tree, carefully sniffing the ground.
“You son of a bitch,” he grumbled at the jumpy rodent. “You know in some places of the world people eat squirrels.”
The squirrel looked up apologetically at him, nose twitching.
“Well, go on!” Cook hollered, stomping his foot. “Go cause some chaos somewhere else, why don’t you!”
The squirrel was of course frightened and darted towards the nearest tree, practically flying up the side of it and disappearing into the dense branches. Looking around, Cook tried to decide what to do next. The original reason he’d come out walking was lost to him now as all he could think about was that voice he’d heard. It wasn’t even just that it was good, but more like angelic. On pitch, even without music or anything else to guide it. For one fleeting moment he felt intense jealousy that he himself didn’t have a voice like that.
Still staring in the general direction of the squirrel’s departure, Cook’s eyes began to wander as he continued to puzzle over the mystery singer. Eventually his gaze drifted to one of the sticker bushes that grew at the base of the squirrel’s tree, where something seemed to be stuck on it.
“What the hell?” Cook muttered out loud, moving towards the object.
A long, blue-gray scarf hung by a thread on one of the bush’s outstretched branches, dangling into a pool of fabric on the ground.
“Who the hell wears a scarf in July?” Cook continued, apparently not noticing that he wasn’t talking to anyone at all. He reached out to untangle the piece of cloth, which he found to be very light and airy.
“Just like Camp Rockers to wear fashionable scarves,” Cook huffed, running the soft fabric through his fingers. “Goddamn hipsters.”
But even as he grumbled about ridiculous fashion trends and real rock and roll attire, Cook made his way back in the direction of Camp Star, blue-gray hipster scarf gripped tightly in his hands.
~*~
David’s heart was racing, apparently trying really hard to escape through his throat. He’d been walking along quite innocently when it happened, glad that he’d chosen to go for a walk. Walks always made him feel so much better. Being upset about things always led him down a path of resentment and sadness far beyond what the situation ever called for. He supposed it was because he was a very internal person who thought about things way too much. But the fresh air and smell of pine trees helped ease his mind, as he knew it would.
Singing birds filled the forest that day, which added in bringing a smile to David’s face. Birds were some of his favorite creatures on earth and before long he found himself calling out to them in his own song, something he hadn’t done since he’d left home. It felt so good to just sing, especially out where no one could hear him. He got nervous singing around other people, but out here it just felt so liberating.
Squirrels jumped from tree to tree and at one point David stopped to watch one digging in the dirt, having managed to find some kind of nut for himself.
“Well, hello, little guy,” David said to him. “What are you up to?”
The squirrel froze, clearly terrified of David. He clutched his nut closer to his chest.
“Oh, don’t worry! I’m not gonna take your food.”
The squirrel didn’t seem to believe him and darted off into the underbrush.
David resumed walking and singing, and soon he had nearly forgotten why he’d even needed to go on a walk in the first place.
And then it happened.
Not too far from where he was standing, the sound of a breaking branch caused David to stop dead in his tracks. He’d walked out far enough that surely no one else could’ve been out there. He waited another second just in case he heard another sound. Because his brain was really good at coming up with random ideas all the time, he suddenly pictured Little Red Riding Hood or some other fairy tale creature being attacked in the woods. All of his anxiety suddenly rushed back in, paralyzing him on the spot. His English teacher, Mrs. Corcoran, had very distinctly pointed out that fairy tales were meant to be warnings. Warnings like, “Don’t go into the forest unless you want to be eaten by a wolf or murdered by a lunatic.”
David just knew he was about to be murdered by a lunatic.
A second cracking stick and David wasted no time turning and running as fast as in could in the direction from which he’d come.
~*~
A normal person might have given up on the strange afternoon incident as soon as he got back to camp and was immediately barraged with questions about where he’d been and how irresponsible it was of him to suddenly leave a group of kids like that. It wasn’t like he would’ve actually left them in any other circumstance; he wasn’t a monster. Aunt Paula had been there, so what was the big deal?
Anyway, he had better things to think about, and think about them he did. He was distracted all through dinner going over every detail about the episode with the mystery forest singer. Michael had to remind him to eat before his chicken fingers got cold.
By seven o’clock, Cook had made up his mind. He’d just have to go to Camp Rock in the morning and make an official search. It had to be easy enough to blend in, he knew the two camps operated very similarly. It was still only a couple days into camp, surely no one could be familiar enough with everyone to know he didn’t belong.
Of course the quickest, most direct route was across the lake.
Even if Michael hadn’t reminded him of his canoe troubles as a kid, the sight of the boathouse sent a shiver down Cook’s spine. Michael may have kidded about it, but that had been something that genuinely scared him. He’d managed to struggle his way halfway across, but his canoe had capsized at the deepest part, putting him in pretty severe danger, especially since it’d been the middle of the night. But he’d also been twelve, and having grown up he just knew he had to be a better boater by now. After wolfing down his breakfast, he set out for the boat launch, not even caring that he was supposed to be supervising a class just then. Considering how he’d stormed off the day before, there would surely be someone checking on him -- Aunt Paula or Michael or someone -- so he knew the kids would be in good hands soon enough.
Getting the canoe into the water was harder than he remembered. How his twelve year old self had managed it, he had no idea because the thing must’ve weighed at least eighty pounds. Regardless, he got himself and two oars into it and peered out across the lake. The lakeside cabins of Camp Rock were directly in front of him, though no one seemed to be around. Surely the Camp Rock campers were off in their classes as well.
If hauling the canoe down to the water had been difficult, paddling was an entirely different story altogether. His arms immediately started hurting, which maybe explained why his boat had capsized the last time he’d ever tried to do this. Controlling the damn thing was tricky at best, but after a few false starts he managed to get it going. Once he had a little momentum behind him it was a bit easier, but still hard work. He hoped he didn’t sweat too much between now and actually coming face to face with someone.
Barely halfway across Cook’s arms were like jelly. There was no way he could keep this up for much longer. But at this point it would’ve taken him the same amount of effort to turn back as to go on, so with burning shoulders and an already aching back, he pushed on. Keeping the front end pointed in the right direction became a problem, and he drifted a little too far to the left or right on more than one occasion.
Cook didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until the canoe gently bumped up against Camp Rock shore, at which point he let out a huge sigh of relief. He’d ended up a little downshore from where he’d been hoping, but maybe that was for the better. His canoe was painted bright blue and silver after all, with a garish star pattern along the side. Camp Rock canoes were orange and more rustic looking, so hiding his aquatic transportation in some thick reeds turned out to be a good solution.
The problem, however, was that from where he’d landed he’d have to wade up to shore since he hadn’t come in at a proper place. Reluctantly, he stepped into the shallow water, his jeans immediately soaking up to his mid-calf. Worse, it was no condition for his boots to be in, so all in all this idea had been pretty terrible up to this point. He’d just started grumbling about how cold the water was against his leg when a fish leapt in front of him, scaring him half to death. What the hell was it with wild animals jumping at him all the time? He didn’t have a lot of time to consider the answer, because the distraction had caused him to misstep, and he went down like a giant tree on a windy day.
The good news was that he’d made it close enough to shore to fall at least halfway onto it; the bad news was that more than just the cuffs of his jeans were wet now. He scrambled to get out of the water, but he was still soaking wet from about the waist down. He stood there for a long moment, just dripping on the shore. Maybe he’d air out enough by the time he saw someone they wouldn’t really notice. He was wearing his darkest jeans, after all, so as long as he didn’t smell like lake, maybe it’d be okay.
He felt a little better about the whole situation until he glanced out across the water to find that his canoe was slowly drifting away.
“Are you kidding me?” Cook bellowed, helplessly watching from the shore. Panic set in for about a half a second before he remembered that he could just walk back the long way around, and at least he hadn’t nearly drowned this time. He probably didn’t need to be pushing his luck.
Luckily, by the time he’d walked up to the main road, his jeans had sort of aired out enough so that they at least didn’t look like they were soaking. Or he hoped they didn’t. It didn’t matter anyway, there wasn’t a whole lot he could do about it now.
Chatter suddenly started filling the air around him, and Cook knew instantly that class must’ve just let out. This assumption was confirmed when he rounded a bend in the road, only to be met with a mess of campers wandering about between the buildings. This had to be the first good thing to happen to him all morning; it’d be easy to blend into the crowd.
“Hey, excuse me!”
A boy of about fourteen suddenly appeared in front of Cook, seemingly out of nowhere. For a brief second Cook thought maybe he’d already been caught.
“Hey, sorry,” the kid breathed heavily, as if he’d been running. “Do you know where the trumpet class is being held? My schedule got changed this morning so I don’t know where anything is.”
Cook, of course, had no clue where the trumpet class was being held, but it did give him an idea.
“Sorry, dude, no idea,” Cook informed the kid. “I’m a little turned around myself.”
The boy didn’t take too long to be disappointed before he rushed off to ask another group of kids.
Seeing a couple of campers chatting at a nearby tree, Cook thought he’d try his luck at being a lost little boy himself.
“Um, excuse me, can you help me?” he said to an older boy with dark hair and golden brown skin. To be honest, Cook had maybe also picked these particular campers to talk to because they were awfully cute as well, which didn’t hurt.
“Er, sure?” the boy responded, sounding doubtful. His friend, a guy about the same age with sandy brown hair and bright blue eyes, stared at him like he’d just encountered an alien.
“I’m just a little bit turned around,” Cook explained, trying to figure out what his nice voice was. He maybe hadn’t used it in awhile. “Can you direct me to the voice class? They switched my classes so now I don’t know where to go.”
“Why are you all wet?” asked the bright-eyed one.
“Pardon?”
“Your jeans are soaking wet,” he repeated.
“They’re barely damp,” Cook said, slightly annoyed. Bright Eyes’ expression grew more surprised, if that were even possible.
“Well, I’ll show you where your class is,” the dark haired one said. “I’m David, by the way, this is Zac.”
“David Cook,” Cook replied.
“You look familiar,” Zac spoke up. “Have I seen you on TV?”
“You sure ask a lot of questions,” Cook commented, trying to divert from the topic. The last thing he needed was people recognizing him, especially for less than ideal reasons.
Zac’s mouth clamped closed as he jerked his head back in surprise.
“The voice class is in the same building as my recording studio class,” David explained, finally returning to what Cook was really interested in. “I’ll be happy to take you.”
“That would be awesome,” Cook replied with a smile.
“I’m gonna have to catch you later, David,” Zac said, already heading in the opposite direction. “My next class is all the way across camp.”
“Bye, Zac!” David called. “Okay, David, why don’t you just follow me and--”
“Go ahead and call me Cook,” Cook interrupted. “That’s what all my friends call me. It’s easier.”
“Well, Cook,” David began again. “Just follow me. It’s just in this building up here.”
It was only a short walk to the appropriate building, and upon arrival they found that a sign had been hung on the door of the voice classroom saying that they would be meeting in the next door recording studio that day.
“Great!” David said upon reading the sign. “That’s my class. You can hang out with me. I mean, if you want to…”
Cook beamed at him. His luck had made a serious upturn. The class merge would mean that each instructor would assume he was in the other class, a perfect cover. And getting to hang out with a cute guy for the next couple hours? It was like the rock gods were suddenly smiling down on him.
~*~
Friends kept falling into David’s lap like it was Christmas or something. He was starting to feel like maybe he should just live at Camp Rock if this was going to keep up. Not only that, but cute guys kept befriending him, which, not that he was superficial like that and was paying any attention, but… he was totally paying attention.
David Cook was like no one else at Camp Rock. In fact, when David first saw him approach him and Zac he thought maybe he’d mysteriously wandered out of the woods after being lost or something. Cook dressed more like real life rock stars, with tattered jeans and clunky jewelry; his hair was a complete rock and roll nightmare. David wondered if he’d forgotten to pack a comb. (Also, David thought he might have even seen a tattoo peeking out from under his clothes.)
But other than being a change of scenery style-wise, Cook seemed like a pretty nice guy. Rough around the edges maybe, but still nice. Of course, David usually found the nice in everyone, so maybe others wouldn’t have agreed.
The two classes crowded into the recording studio, a space that was a little too small for so many people. David found himself smashed between some kid he didn’t know and Cook’s warm, leather-jacketed arm. Touching people wasn’t exactly his favorite thing in the world, but he found himself only wishing that the weird kid on his left would move away.
“Good morning, everyone,” the voice instructor greeted them. “Now, I know it’s a little crowded in here, so I hope this is gonna work out. Voice students, we’re gonna help the recording studio students practice what they’ve learned so far, which will in turn give us a chance to record ourselves. By the end of camp I’m hoping we can use these recordings to see how much we’ve improved by then.”
There was general consensus in the room, and David thought it was a great idea. Because they didn’t have a whole lot of time, the recording got underway pretty quickly, with David’s classmates taking turns with each voice class student. Interestingly, Cook was really invested in listening closely and asking a lot of questions about each singer. David only vaguely knew a few of them, but he did his best to answer all of Cook’s questions. For a fleeting moment he entertained the thought that Cook was an undercover talent scout, but then dismissed the idea. He could really let his imagination run wild sometimes.
When it was David’s turn to run the recording equipment, he invited Cook to come be his singer.
“Oh, no,” Cook said, suddenly looking nervous. “I, uh… my voice is a little tired today, I’d better skip.”
David thought this was a little strange; his speaking voice was perfectly normal as far as he could tell. But he also knew singers had to be careful with their voices, so he let it go. He worked with a slightly plump, dark featured girl instead.
At about five minutes to the end of class, David’s recording instructor, Mr. Young, got everyone’s attention once again.
“I’m happy to report that we got through everyone! Great job everyone!”
There was polite applause around the room.
“Now, before you go, I have a little announcement. Kelly, will you pass these fliers around for me?”
Kelly took the brightly colored stack and started handing them to each student. David, who happened to be sitting fairly close to her, got one right away. The shocking pink paper might have blinded anyone, but David’s attention was immediately drawn to the headline.
FINAL JAM: Your chance to shine!
He didn’t get to read much further before his instructor continued.
“We’ve got exciting news this year. Final Jam is always a thrilling time for all of us, when we get to really show off all the hard work we’ve done all summer,” Mr. Young said. “But this year we’re gonna shake it up a little. We’re inviting Camp Star to join the competition.”
There was a mixed reaction to this announcement, some of excitement but also some groans. Personally, David thought it’d be fun to compete against the other camp; it’d be interesting to see what kind of work they were doing over there.
“Now, I hear some of our veteran campers groaning a little bit,” Mr. Young observed. “It’s true that when we tried this a couple years ago they beat the pants off of us. But I’m confident that we’re ready to take them on again, aren’t you? Go, Camp Rock!”
Again, the reaction probably wasn’t exactly what Mr. Young had been anticipating, but it had improved at least a little.
“This is exciting,” David commented as everyone began gathering their things. “Won’t it be fun to see what the other camp’s kids are like?”
“Are there other voice classes during the day?” Cook asked, apparently unaware that the last five minutes had even happened.
“Uh, I think this is the only one,” David replied, confused. Cook didn’t seem very happy at all. Besides, shouldn’t he have known that anyway?
Cook sighed and got up from his seat.
“Thanks for your help, David,” he said abruptly. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
~*~
The long walk back to Camp Star ended up being good for Cook, seeing as he felt completely defeated after all the effort he’d put into getting to Camp Rock. Not one of the voice students came close to the one he’d heard in the forest the day before, and most of the class had been female anyway. He’d definitely heard a male voice before, he just knew it.
He stormed into his cabin, slamming the door behind him.
“Hey!” Michael scolded him from across the room. “The hinges are gonna fall off if you keep that up. Where have you been?”
Cook ignored him and threw himself onto his bed.
“Everything is terrible,” Cook grumbled, staring up at the ceiling. “I mean, it can’t be that difficult to find an amazing singer, can it? Especially in a lot like that one.”
“You’re talking crazy again,” Michael said, coming to join him on the edge of the bed. “You want to explain?”
Cook flashed an angry expression at his friend.
“Why are you here?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you be out guiding the next generation to superstardom or something?”
“Well,” Michael answered, unaffected by Cook’s cranky attitude. “It’s lunchtime now, plus my break period is right after.”
“Break period!” Cook spat, even more angry now. “How come I don’t have a break period in my schedule?”
“Maybe because you keep running off,” Michael explained coolly. “Your kids are fine, by the way.”
Cook rolled his eyes and stared back at the ceiling. “And probably better off. I’m terrible at this job.”
“I don’t know how you can possibly know that when you’re never even here,” Michael observed. “Seriously, where did you go?”
Cook sighed and turned to look at Michael again. “Camp Rock.”
“What!” Michael exclaimed, surprise filling his face. He definitely wasn’t expecting that answer.
Cook sat up a little, leaning on one elbow.
“There is someone over there,” he explained, “who has this like, magical voice. I swear the devil got a soul in exchange for that voice or something. But I don’t know who he is so I went to find him.”
“Uh,” Michael stuttered, clearly still in shock. “Are you hearing voices in your head now?”
“Yes!” Cook answered loudly. “I mean, sort of. When I took off yesterday--”
“Mhmm,” Michael hummed sternly.
“I was wandering through the stupid overgrown bits that are between the camps,” Cook went on, trying to ignore Michael’s disciplinary stare. “And I heard a voice. Singing. Like, amazing angelic singing.”
“Maybe it was a sign from God,” Michael said, smirking. “David, you’ve been a very bad boy. Please turn your cares upon Heaven.”
Cook threw a pillow directly at Michael’s stupid face.
“Be serious,” he said bitterly.
“You be serious!” Michael retorted. “You’re sure it was someone from Camp Rock?”
“It had to be,” Cook replied. “I was way over on their side.”
“Well, if he’s so good then maybe he’ll be at Final Jam,” Michael observed.
“And?” Cook said. “How does their end-of-summer talent show thing help me?”
“Are you just the most inattentive person on earth, or what?” Michael asked. “They told us last night at dinner that Camp Rock invited Camp Star to participate this year.”
“Did they?” Cook asked, genuinely surprised. “I might have been distracted, I guess.”
“You’re incredible,” Michael sighed. “I’m gonna guess that you don’t remember me saying that we should volunteer to be judges then, right? I mean, are you listening to me even fifty percent of the time?”
“Wait, what?” Cook asked, suddenly interested. “What did you say?”
“I knew it!” Michael said. “I’m just gonna start saying everything twice to you, maybe you’ll get at least some of it.”
“Explain the judge situation to me,” Cook replied, a little irritated.
“They asked for volunteers to be judges,” Michael answered, looking exasperated by Cook. “Judges have to be camp veterans, the more years the better. Obviously, they’d pick you. It’d be good for you to volunteer anyway, before your aunt finally loses her cool with you.”
“That’ll never happen,” Cook replied. “I’ve never seen her angry in all my life.”
“In my experience you don’t want to push it with people like that,” Michael suggested. “They snap eventually and it’s not very pretty. Anyway, are you saying you’ll go down to the office and sign up with me?”
“Let’s go right now!” Cook demanded, jumping to his feet. He’d hoped to find opportunities to keep looking for his mystery singer over the next couple of weeks, but Michael was right. Final Jam would attract all of the best talent of both camps.
Cook was so happy he didn’t even mind returning to his afternoon classes.
~*~
David found it curious that a few days had passed without seeing Cook on his way to class again. For the first day or two he waited for him around the same spot where they’d met, in hopes of walking with him to class. It was strange because the more he thought about this newcomer the more he kind of really liked him. They’d spent less than two hours together, and they were clearly not cut from the same cloth, but there was still some kind of connection there. Cook seemed to be serious most of the time, but also curious about others. In between singers that day they’d chatted about random stuff -- David had rambled about his sister’s cat and Cook had talked about his brothers back home. If David had ever experienced anything even remotely close to love at first sight, this was it.
Well, crush at first sight, anyway.
But as the days wore on, David started to wonder if Cook had been some kind of figment of his imagination. Because even if Cook had decided not to be in that class anymore and changed again, David never saw him at the nightly campfires or in the mess hall. He never saw him lounging in the media center or taking a stroll by the boat dock.
So maybe that had been it, maybe David Cook wasn’t really real. Or maybe David had scared him away. That happened all the time back at home. David was so weird that people at school couldn’t wait to get away from him, it seemed. It figured his lucky streak with new friends had to end some time.
On the upside, however, Nick had asked David to start meeting with him during their free time in order to prepare for Final Jam. Although David enjoyed his free afternoons, Carly had outright stopped talking to him by now and because Jason, Brooke, and Syesha were closer friends to her than him, he knew it’d be better for him to make an exit rather than try to divide them. So really, Nick was his only friend at the moment.
He’d been right then, that his strange streak of new friends had to come crashing down eventually.
David made his way up to the meeting hall where he knew Nick would be waiting for him.
Just as he got within a few feet of the open door, however, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of raised voices coming from the room.
“I want you to stop leading him on,” a familiar woman’s voice was saying. There was no denying the accent -- it was definitely Carly.
“What on earth are you talking about?” Nick could be heard replying.
“You’re such a snake, Nick,” Carly spat, her voice carrying through the empty hall. “David’s a sweet kid and I won’t have you ruining him.”
“Since when do I take orders from you, I wonder?” Nick retorted, his voice sharp. “David’s my friend, and I’m sorry you can’t handle it. Just because you hate me for no reason doesn’t mean everyone has to.”
“Look, Nick Jonas, I know what you do to people. You build them up, give them hope, make them feel like they’re on top of the world. But it always turns out that you’ve got some ulterior motive, some way that you’ll benefit. It stops now.”
“I do not!” Nick protested loudly. David took a step back he was so surprised Nick could ever sound so vicious.
“Then why did you do it to me!” Carly shouted in reply.
David’s heart sank right into his stomach; it was obvious Carly was fighting back tears.
Silence filled the hall for a long moment before David could hear the clicking of Carly’s boots echoing towards the door.
“Carly, wait!” Nick called out to her.
Carly stopped, her heels squeaking on the wooden floor.
“I’m done with you,” Carly replied bitterly through broken breaths. “And you’d better be done with him. I won’t let you crush him like you did me.”
David managed to duck behind the open door just as Carly stormed through it, stomping all the way. She passed by closely enough for him to know for sure she was hiccuping back tears.
David counted to twenty before daring to move from his spot, then slowly peered around the door and into the room. Nick sat slumped at the grand piano, his fingers stroking the keys but not actually pressing down on any. David could’ve sworn even his curls looked sad.
“Uh, hi,” David said softly, now stepping into the giant room. “I just saw Carly run out of here. She seems… upset.”
Nick looked up wearily, as if he’d forgotten David would be there.
“Please don’t tell me you heard any of that,” Nick said quietly.
“Maybe… maybe a little,” David admitted. “I mean, not much.”
Nick sighed and gestured for David to come sit by him.
“I don’t know what she’s ever told you about me,” Nick said, staring down at the keyboard. “I mean, I know you’re friends and everything.”
“Not much, actually,” David answered truthfully. “I just know she doesn’t like you.”
“That’s shocking,” Nick replied, glancing up. “She used to love telling people every single reason why I was the worst human on earth.”
“What happened between you guys?” David asked. He hated seeing two people he really liked fighting with one another.
Nick let out a huge breath and glanced up at the ceiling for a moment before continuing.
“It’s super complicated,” Nick said. “But in short, a misunderstanding occurred that made us both so angry with one another that by the time we figured out what was really happening it was too late.”
“Well, can’t you explain… whatever it is… to her? She’s a reasonable person.” David knew this to be true. He’d spent enough time with her to know that at least.
Nick sighed and looked back to David.
“We might have also been dating,” he confessed.
David’s eyes went wide. Somehow that seemed like the mismatch of the century to him.
“Oh, we were great,” Nick said, apparently reading David’s thoughts. “Great until we found something to fight about. Then at some point she thought I was taking advantage of her talent somehow, and some of her friends that summer had thoroughly convinced her that I was flirting with other people… I wasn’t, by the way. Anyway, I’ve tried to talk to her a million times since then, but she won’t have it. You know how the Irish are.”
David wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, or whether he should’ve been offended on Carly’s behalf. But Nick looked so exhausted over the whole thing he decided to let it go.
“Well, I’m here now,” David said. “Shall we get to work? I find music is a good mind clearer.”
For the first time since David had arrived, Nick smiled.
“That sounds like an excellent idea.”
~*~
Over the next couple of days, Cook couldn’t stop thinking about Camp Rock. If someone had told him anytime before two weeks ago that that would have been the case, he would’ve punched that person square in the nose. But now he still had this mystery singer problem on his hands (no thanks to his spy mission) plus he just couldn’t stop thinking about that David kid.
Yes, really.
Although he’d been trying to concentrate on all the singers that day in voice class, he couldn’t help noticing David out of the corner of his eye every once in awhile. How he’d gaze with awe at a particularly good singer, or have this cute polite smile when someone was clearly terrible. How he’d lick his lips when he was thinking or how he’d say “Oh, gosh!” every time he dropped the pen he’d been fiddling with in his hands.
It also hadn’t escaped him that every time he brushed against Cook’s leg or arm he’d tense up for a brief second before letting out a controlled breath. That had made Cook grin every time.
Cook checked his watch. Four o’clock. Everyone should’ve been on free time if Cook remembered correctly, and assuming he actually took a direct trail this time he could make it to Camp Rock in about twenty-five minutes.
Because yes, he was going back.
He arrived on Camp Rock soil close to four-thirty, and sure enough plenty of campers were lounging around talking, playing games, and other things of the like. Trying to imagine where David might like to hang out, he wandered around a bit until he came face to face with the lake again.
Ugh, that lake! He’d have liked to drain it if he could.
Just before he dismissed the idea of cruising along the shore, however, he saw a familiar silhouette stationed on a large rock a bit off to the side. How he recognized David sitting there, he didn’t really know. Maybe it’d been the fact that he’d been on his mind so much lately.
“Boo,” Cook said quietly, coming up behind him.
David jumped a little, but when he looked up he wasn’t smiling. Even when he saw it was Cook he merely looked mildly surprised.
“Oh, hi,” he said, sitting up a little straighter. “Where have you been? You’re like a ghost or something.”
“Maybe I am,” Cook replied, pleased with the imagery. “Thought I’d come say hi since I hadn’t seen you in awhile.”
“It’s nice to know you’re not imaginary,” David replied solemnly. Cook felt a twinge in his chest; this was not the same cheerful, energetic David he’d met earlier.
“Nope, real flesh and bone,” Cook replied, trying to sound upbeat. “You can touch me if you want.”
Cook knew he didn’t always tell the best jokes, but this was getting ridiculous. David gave what could only be described as a generous smile, then turned back to look out at the lake as he had been before.
“David, what’s wrong?” Cook asked, taking a seat on a rather pointy part of the rock. “There’s no hiding sadness on you, obviously.”
David sighed and looked back to Cook.
“What are you supposed to do when you’ve made two nice friends but it turns out those two friends hate each other?”
Cook definitely hadn’t been ready for that.
“Uhh, wow, that’s tough,” Cook replied, running a hand through his hair. “Have you talked to them?”
“Yeah, sort of. I mean, one of them explained some stuff about how the other is basically holding a grudge,” David answered. “And the other one’s practically not talking to me.”
“Oh,” Cook said, surprised. “Well, it sounds like you don’t actually have anything to do with it,” he guessed. “They can’t tell you who to be friends with. Fuck ‘em.”
David started and cast his big glassy eyes up at Cook.
“Sorry,” Cook quickly apologized. “But seriously. See if you can reason with your one friend who isn’t talking to you. Then tell them both you won’t hear any more about it. They’ll come around because you’re a good friend.”
“How do you know I’m a good friend?” David asked quietly.
“Because you’re sitting here at the side of the lake worried about them both when it’s not even your problem,” Cook explained.
David sat quietly for a moment, his bottom lip caught firmly between his teeth.
“Look,” Cook said after a long pause. “I came looking for you because I was hoping to catch up. And, you know… I thought maybe you’d like that.”
“I would like that,” David replied, a small smile coming to his lips. “I wondered where you’d been, anyway.”
“So you’re saying you’ve been thinking about me?” Cook kidded.
“Er…” David trailed and Cook couldn’t help barking in laughter.
Cook put his hand on David’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly.
“How about this? I’m gonna let you finish moping. Then you go have dinner with your friend with the grudge. I’ll meet you back here after that and I’ll tell you everything I learned in Cub Scouts about astronomy.”
Finally, David’s face lit up in a genuine smile, and he even laughed a little bit.
“You’re a little bit crazy, aren’t you?” David asked.
“Yeah,” Cook agreed. “That’s what they tell me.”
~*~
It turned out that David Cook was totally right. With about all the courage David had ever mustered in his life, he marched over to Carly’s table with his dinner and just sat down across from her. He didn’t say anything at first, just sat down. Then after she’d stared at him for a little too long, he explained his feelings to her, how he didn’t like that she was so angry at Nick, but that he could live with it if she just agreed it wasn’t fair to drag him into the middle of it. He was going to be friends with Nick regardless. It was obvious that she really wanted to protest, but in the end she agreed that he was right.
“Besides, I’ve really missed seeing you blush when something is inappropriately funny,” she added. “Classic Archuleta.”
Feeling a whole lot better about his friend situation, David ate more than he had for days. He felt a thousand times better now that he got to have some conversation with his friends again, and he enjoyed himself so much that he completely lost track of time.
“Oh! I have to go!” he exclaimed suddenly, his eye catching the clock in the dining hall. “I have a date!”
Everyone at the table replied simultaneously.
“A date?”
“Well, I mean… not a date,” David said, cheeks reddening. “A meeting. With an acquaintance.”
“Either he’s hiding a date,” Carly joked, pointing a fork at him, “or he’s secretly involved with the mafia.”
Sometimes David didn’t understand other people’s humor at all.
By the time he made it back down to the lake it’d gotten fairly dark, and at first he didn’t see Cook anywhere. Afraid that he’d left, David felt his heart come up in his throat.
“Boo,” came a voice from behind him. David jumped.
“Would you stop doing that!” he cried. “I’m gonna have a heart attack before the end of summer if you keep that up.”
“Sorry,” Cook replied from somewhere in the half darkness. “I went and got a flashlight and some binoculars, but I could only find one so we’ll have to share.”
David stood frozen for a second. “Didn’t you wonder what took me so long?” he asked.
Cook shrugged his shoulders. “Not really. You were visiting with your friends. I could wait.”
“I should’ve invited you to come,” David realized a little too late. “I’m sorry, I’m so rude.”
“No, no, no,” Cook insisted. “That was all you. I didn’t need to hang around for all that. Okay, are you ready for my mastery of astronomy or what?”
“Let me have it,” David replied, chuckling.
“So this, out here? This is space,” Cook began, waving a hand in front of him. “It’s dark and cold and there’s no oxygen so don’t even think about going out there, okay?”
“Noted,” David said, staring up into the ever-darkening sky.
“Over here we have stars. That’s those bright twinkly things. They’re pretty far away, like a million miles or something.”
David had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing, though it was becoming difficult.
“Some of these stars make shapes,” Cook explained, still pointing. “There you’ve got the Big Dipper. I guess people in olden days called ladles dippers. There is the infamous unicorn constellation over there.”
Now David couldn’t help laughing out loud.
“There’s no unicorn constellation!” he said.
“Hey, who’s the one with the Cub Scout Astronomy badge here?” Cook replied. “That’s right, me.”
“Oh, all right,” David laughed. “Whatever you say.”
“That’s right,” Cook replied. “So… well, that’s the end of our tour.”
“That’s it?” David protested. “I want my money back.”
“Sorry, no refunds,” Cook informed him. A grin started to spread across his face. “Okay, but seriously, have you ever seen the moon through a pair of binoculars?”
David shook his head.
Cook set his flashlight down on the ground, then held the binoculars up to his eyes and focused on the moon. After a little adjusting, he waved David over and slipped them into his hands.
“Check that out,” Cook said, guiding the binoculars close to David’s eyes. Though David was perfectly capable of holding them himself, Cook still gripped one side of them. His other hand slid across David’s shoulder until they were standing very closely together.
“It’s amazing what you can see just with these,” Cook said softly, practically whispering into David’s ear. His warm breath breezed David’s cheek, distracting him from the subject at hand. Finally he focused, however, and the slight gasp that escaped his lips made Cook chuckle.
David had seen the moon a million times, just like anyone. He’d seen photos of it taken with fancy telescope equipment on television, or high quality posters in science classrooms. But none of that compared to looking at the craters and shadows that actually fell on the moon at that very moment, in three dimensions, in real life. The reality of it took his breath away.
“Incredible, right?” Cook whispered, breath still warm on David’s neck. “Just wait until you see a planet or the Pleiades or something. You’ll start feeling really existential real quick.”
David didn’t know what existential meant, but he did know this: If he’d been feeling like he was crushing on David Cook before, this pushed it all the way up to “falling.”
Part three
fieryrogue
Cook continued walking, kicking a rock in the path with his boot. He was so mad he considered never returning to camp. Wouldn’t that just be the funniest thing ever? If he just continued walking and walking and left everyone wondering whatever became of him? It’d be like a family legend. “He walked off into the forest and was never seen again. We never should’ve treated him like a baby.”
The trees grew thicker around him, indicating he’d made it to the dead zone between Camp Star and Camp Rock. A line existed somewhere around there, but even he remembered that some years ago the old fence that followed that line had finally given up and collapsed. As far as he knew that fence had yet to be replaced, though bits of the old one probably still gave a good indication of its placement. The thing was, the underbrush had grown up so much that any little pieces remaining were probably lost under the ferns. He could’ve been anywhere by then.
He’d been leaning one hand against a tree for balance when a sound met his ear, one that was decidedly non-foresty. In fact, Cook could’ve sworn that the birds had stopped singing and the squirrels had stopped scurrying in order to allow for this surprise. Holding perfectly still, Cook finally made out very faint singing.
It wasn’t exactly unusual to hear people singing around camp. It was, after all, something like a hundred combined acres of musical expression across two campgrounds. But to be perfectly honest, a lot of that musical expression was pretty terrible. Especially since he was almost certainly on Camp Rock grounds by now, and everyone knew that Camp Rock had an open policy as far as admittance was concerned. As in, they didn’t even have to send in an audition tape or anything. Pretty dumb in his opinion, but that was probably why Camp Star produced more superstars than Camp Rock ever did. So it definitely surprised him to be confronted by this soft but pleasant singing coming from maybe fifty feet away.
The overgrown shrubbery kept his line of sight obscured, but the voice continued to permeate the air, slowly rising as the singer apparently felt more confident in his solitude. Cook felt badly for about a half a second, but then got over it because it turned out the kid could really sing. He wondered if he should try to recruit this obvious talent to Camp Star immediately.
Wanting to get a closer look at this individual (because honestly, he was quickly falling in love with that voice, he might as well attach a face to it as well), Cook tried moving around the thick tree as quietly as possible. A squirrel darted across his foot, startling him, which no matter how hard he tried to prevent it, sent him into a helicoptering-arm forward freefall, face down into some sticker bushes.
The singing stopped abruptly.
A beat of dead quiet held the world on pause until Cook could hear his forest companion hustling in the opposite direction, surely embarrassed that he’d been caught so far out from camp.
“Wait,” Cook tried to call out, though he was still fighting off some sort of vine wrapped around his ankle. “Ugh, don’t go away, you idiot,” he muttered under his breath.
But it was too late. By the time Cook could get to where he thought the mystery singer might have been hanging around, the place had been completely deserted. Another squirrel -- or heck, it was probably the same damn one -- timidly crept out from behind a nearby tree, carefully sniffing the ground.
“You son of a bitch,” he grumbled at the jumpy rodent. “You know in some places of the world people eat squirrels.”
The squirrel looked up apologetically at him, nose twitching.
“Well, go on!” Cook hollered, stomping his foot. “Go cause some chaos somewhere else, why don’t you!”
The squirrel was of course frightened and darted towards the nearest tree, practically flying up the side of it and disappearing into the dense branches. Looking around, Cook tried to decide what to do next. The original reason he’d come out walking was lost to him now as all he could think about was that voice he’d heard. It wasn’t even just that it was good, but more like angelic. On pitch, even without music or anything else to guide it. For one fleeting moment he felt intense jealousy that he himself didn’t have a voice like that.
Still staring in the general direction of the squirrel’s departure, Cook’s eyes began to wander as he continued to puzzle over the mystery singer. Eventually his gaze drifted to one of the sticker bushes that grew at the base of the squirrel’s tree, where something seemed to be stuck on it.
“What the hell?” Cook muttered out loud, moving towards the object.
A long, blue-gray scarf hung by a thread on one of the bush’s outstretched branches, dangling into a pool of fabric on the ground.
“Who the hell wears a scarf in July?” Cook continued, apparently not noticing that he wasn’t talking to anyone at all. He reached out to untangle the piece of cloth, which he found to be very light and airy.
“Just like Camp Rockers to wear fashionable scarves,” Cook huffed, running the soft fabric through his fingers. “Goddamn hipsters.”
But even as he grumbled about ridiculous fashion trends and real rock and roll attire, Cook made his way back in the direction of Camp Star, blue-gray hipster scarf gripped tightly in his hands.
~*~
David’s heart was racing, apparently trying really hard to escape through his throat. He’d been walking along quite innocently when it happened, glad that he’d chosen to go for a walk. Walks always made him feel so much better. Being upset about things always led him down a path of resentment and sadness far beyond what the situation ever called for. He supposed it was because he was a very internal person who thought about things way too much. But the fresh air and smell of pine trees helped ease his mind, as he knew it would.
Singing birds filled the forest that day, which added in bringing a smile to David’s face. Birds were some of his favorite creatures on earth and before long he found himself calling out to them in his own song, something he hadn’t done since he’d left home. It felt so good to just sing, especially out where no one could hear him. He got nervous singing around other people, but out here it just felt so liberating.
Squirrels jumped from tree to tree and at one point David stopped to watch one digging in the dirt, having managed to find some kind of nut for himself.
“Well, hello, little guy,” David said to him. “What are you up to?”
The squirrel froze, clearly terrified of David. He clutched his nut closer to his chest.
“Oh, don’t worry! I’m not gonna take your food.”
The squirrel didn’t seem to believe him and darted off into the underbrush.
David resumed walking and singing, and soon he had nearly forgotten why he’d even needed to go on a walk in the first place.
And then it happened.
Not too far from where he was standing, the sound of a breaking branch caused David to stop dead in his tracks. He’d walked out far enough that surely no one else could’ve been out there. He waited another second just in case he heard another sound. Because his brain was really good at coming up with random ideas all the time, he suddenly pictured Little Red Riding Hood or some other fairy tale creature being attacked in the woods. All of his anxiety suddenly rushed back in, paralyzing him on the spot. His English teacher, Mrs. Corcoran, had very distinctly pointed out that fairy tales were meant to be warnings. Warnings like, “Don’t go into the forest unless you want to be eaten by a wolf or murdered by a lunatic.”
David just knew he was about to be murdered by a lunatic.
A second cracking stick and David wasted no time turning and running as fast as in could in the direction from which he’d come.
~*~
A normal person might have given up on the strange afternoon incident as soon as he got back to camp and was immediately barraged with questions about where he’d been and how irresponsible it was of him to suddenly leave a group of kids like that. It wasn’t like he would’ve actually left them in any other circumstance; he wasn’t a monster. Aunt Paula had been there, so what was the big deal?
Anyway, he had better things to think about, and think about them he did. He was distracted all through dinner going over every detail about the episode with the mystery forest singer. Michael had to remind him to eat before his chicken fingers got cold.
By seven o’clock, Cook had made up his mind. He’d just have to go to Camp Rock in the morning and make an official search. It had to be easy enough to blend in, he knew the two camps operated very similarly. It was still only a couple days into camp, surely no one could be familiar enough with everyone to know he didn’t belong.
Of course the quickest, most direct route was across the lake.
Even if Michael hadn’t reminded him of his canoe troubles as a kid, the sight of the boathouse sent a shiver down Cook’s spine. Michael may have kidded about it, but that had been something that genuinely scared him. He’d managed to struggle his way halfway across, but his canoe had capsized at the deepest part, putting him in pretty severe danger, especially since it’d been the middle of the night. But he’d also been twelve, and having grown up he just knew he had to be a better boater by now. After wolfing down his breakfast, he set out for the boat launch, not even caring that he was supposed to be supervising a class just then. Considering how he’d stormed off the day before, there would surely be someone checking on him -- Aunt Paula or Michael or someone -- so he knew the kids would be in good hands soon enough.
Getting the canoe into the water was harder than he remembered. How his twelve year old self had managed it, he had no idea because the thing must’ve weighed at least eighty pounds. Regardless, he got himself and two oars into it and peered out across the lake. The lakeside cabins of Camp Rock were directly in front of him, though no one seemed to be around. Surely the Camp Rock campers were off in their classes as well.
If hauling the canoe down to the water had been difficult, paddling was an entirely different story altogether. His arms immediately started hurting, which maybe explained why his boat had capsized the last time he’d ever tried to do this. Controlling the damn thing was tricky at best, but after a few false starts he managed to get it going. Once he had a little momentum behind him it was a bit easier, but still hard work. He hoped he didn’t sweat too much between now and actually coming face to face with someone.
Barely halfway across Cook’s arms were like jelly. There was no way he could keep this up for much longer. But at this point it would’ve taken him the same amount of effort to turn back as to go on, so with burning shoulders and an already aching back, he pushed on. Keeping the front end pointed in the right direction became a problem, and he drifted a little too far to the left or right on more than one occasion.
Cook didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until the canoe gently bumped up against Camp Rock shore, at which point he let out a huge sigh of relief. He’d ended up a little downshore from where he’d been hoping, but maybe that was for the better. His canoe was painted bright blue and silver after all, with a garish star pattern along the side. Camp Rock canoes were orange and more rustic looking, so hiding his aquatic transportation in some thick reeds turned out to be a good solution.
The problem, however, was that from where he’d landed he’d have to wade up to shore since he hadn’t come in at a proper place. Reluctantly, he stepped into the shallow water, his jeans immediately soaking up to his mid-calf. Worse, it was no condition for his boots to be in, so all in all this idea had been pretty terrible up to this point. He’d just started grumbling about how cold the water was against his leg when a fish leapt in front of him, scaring him half to death. What the hell was it with wild animals jumping at him all the time? He didn’t have a lot of time to consider the answer, because the distraction had caused him to misstep, and he went down like a giant tree on a windy day.
The good news was that he’d made it close enough to shore to fall at least halfway onto it; the bad news was that more than just the cuffs of his jeans were wet now. He scrambled to get out of the water, but he was still soaking wet from about the waist down. He stood there for a long moment, just dripping on the shore. Maybe he’d air out enough by the time he saw someone they wouldn’t really notice. He was wearing his darkest jeans, after all, so as long as he didn’t smell like lake, maybe it’d be okay.
He felt a little better about the whole situation until he glanced out across the water to find that his canoe was slowly drifting away.
“Are you kidding me?” Cook bellowed, helplessly watching from the shore. Panic set in for about a half a second before he remembered that he could just walk back the long way around, and at least he hadn’t nearly drowned this time. He probably didn’t need to be pushing his luck.
Luckily, by the time he’d walked up to the main road, his jeans had sort of aired out enough so that they at least didn’t look like they were soaking. Or he hoped they didn’t. It didn’t matter anyway, there wasn’t a whole lot he could do about it now.
Chatter suddenly started filling the air around him, and Cook knew instantly that class must’ve just let out. This assumption was confirmed when he rounded a bend in the road, only to be met with a mess of campers wandering about between the buildings. This had to be the first good thing to happen to him all morning; it’d be easy to blend into the crowd.
“Hey, excuse me!”
A boy of about fourteen suddenly appeared in front of Cook, seemingly out of nowhere. For a brief second Cook thought maybe he’d already been caught.
“Hey, sorry,” the kid breathed heavily, as if he’d been running. “Do you know where the trumpet class is being held? My schedule got changed this morning so I don’t know where anything is.”
Cook, of course, had no clue where the trumpet class was being held, but it did give him an idea.
“Sorry, dude, no idea,” Cook informed the kid. “I’m a little turned around myself.”
The boy didn’t take too long to be disappointed before he rushed off to ask another group of kids.
Seeing a couple of campers chatting at a nearby tree, Cook thought he’d try his luck at being a lost little boy himself.
“Um, excuse me, can you help me?” he said to an older boy with dark hair and golden brown skin. To be honest, Cook had maybe also picked these particular campers to talk to because they were awfully cute as well, which didn’t hurt.
“Er, sure?” the boy responded, sounding doubtful. His friend, a guy about the same age with sandy brown hair and bright blue eyes, stared at him like he’d just encountered an alien.
“I’m just a little bit turned around,” Cook explained, trying to figure out what his nice voice was. He maybe hadn’t used it in awhile. “Can you direct me to the voice class? They switched my classes so now I don’t know where to go.”
“Why are you all wet?” asked the bright-eyed one.
“Pardon?”
“Your jeans are soaking wet,” he repeated.
“They’re barely damp,” Cook said, slightly annoyed. Bright Eyes’ expression grew more surprised, if that were even possible.
“Well, I’ll show you where your class is,” the dark haired one said. “I’m David, by the way, this is Zac.”
“David Cook,” Cook replied.
“You look familiar,” Zac spoke up. “Have I seen you on TV?”
“You sure ask a lot of questions,” Cook commented, trying to divert from the topic. The last thing he needed was people recognizing him, especially for less than ideal reasons.
Zac’s mouth clamped closed as he jerked his head back in surprise.
“The voice class is in the same building as my recording studio class,” David explained, finally returning to what Cook was really interested in. “I’ll be happy to take you.”
“That would be awesome,” Cook replied with a smile.
“I’m gonna have to catch you later, David,” Zac said, already heading in the opposite direction. “My next class is all the way across camp.”
“Bye, Zac!” David called. “Okay, David, why don’t you just follow me and--”
“Go ahead and call me Cook,” Cook interrupted. “That’s what all my friends call me. It’s easier.”
“Well, Cook,” David began again. “Just follow me. It’s just in this building up here.”
It was only a short walk to the appropriate building, and upon arrival they found that a sign had been hung on the door of the voice classroom saying that they would be meeting in the next door recording studio that day.
“Great!” David said upon reading the sign. “That’s my class. You can hang out with me. I mean, if you want to…”
Cook beamed at him. His luck had made a serious upturn. The class merge would mean that each instructor would assume he was in the other class, a perfect cover. And getting to hang out with a cute guy for the next couple hours? It was like the rock gods were suddenly smiling down on him.
~*~
Friends kept falling into David’s lap like it was Christmas or something. He was starting to feel like maybe he should just live at Camp Rock if this was going to keep up. Not only that, but cute guys kept befriending him, which, not that he was superficial like that and was paying any attention, but… he was totally paying attention.
David Cook was like no one else at Camp Rock. In fact, when David first saw him approach him and Zac he thought maybe he’d mysteriously wandered out of the woods after being lost or something. Cook dressed more like real life rock stars, with tattered jeans and clunky jewelry; his hair was a complete rock and roll nightmare. David wondered if he’d forgotten to pack a comb. (Also, David thought he might have even seen a tattoo peeking out from under his clothes.)
But other than being a change of scenery style-wise, Cook seemed like a pretty nice guy. Rough around the edges maybe, but still nice. Of course, David usually found the nice in everyone, so maybe others wouldn’t have agreed.
The two classes crowded into the recording studio, a space that was a little too small for so many people. David found himself smashed between some kid he didn’t know and Cook’s warm, leather-jacketed arm. Touching people wasn’t exactly his favorite thing in the world, but he found himself only wishing that the weird kid on his left would move away.
“Good morning, everyone,” the voice instructor greeted them. “Now, I know it’s a little crowded in here, so I hope this is gonna work out. Voice students, we’re gonna help the recording studio students practice what they’ve learned so far, which will in turn give us a chance to record ourselves. By the end of camp I’m hoping we can use these recordings to see how much we’ve improved by then.”
There was general consensus in the room, and David thought it was a great idea. Because they didn’t have a whole lot of time, the recording got underway pretty quickly, with David’s classmates taking turns with each voice class student. Interestingly, Cook was really invested in listening closely and asking a lot of questions about each singer. David only vaguely knew a few of them, but he did his best to answer all of Cook’s questions. For a fleeting moment he entertained the thought that Cook was an undercover talent scout, but then dismissed the idea. He could really let his imagination run wild sometimes.
When it was David’s turn to run the recording equipment, he invited Cook to come be his singer.
“Oh, no,” Cook said, suddenly looking nervous. “I, uh… my voice is a little tired today, I’d better skip.”
David thought this was a little strange; his speaking voice was perfectly normal as far as he could tell. But he also knew singers had to be careful with their voices, so he let it go. He worked with a slightly plump, dark featured girl instead.
At about five minutes to the end of class, David’s recording instructor, Mr. Young, got everyone’s attention once again.
“I’m happy to report that we got through everyone! Great job everyone!”
There was polite applause around the room.
“Now, before you go, I have a little announcement. Kelly, will you pass these fliers around for me?”
Kelly took the brightly colored stack and started handing them to each student. David, who happened to be sitting fairly close to her, got one right away. The shocking pink paper might have blinded anyone, but David’s attention was immediately drawn to the headline.
FINAL JAM: Your chance to shine!
He didn’t get to read much further before his instructor continued.
“We’ve got exciting news this year. Final Jam is always a thrilling time for all of us, when we get to really show off all the hard work we’ve done all summer,” Mr. Young said. “But this year we’re gonna shake it up a little. We’re inviting Camp Star to join the competition.”
There was a mixed reaction to this announcement, some of excitement but also some groans. Personally, David thought it’d be fun to compete against the other camp; it’d be interesting to see what kind of work they were doing over there.
“Now, I hear some of our veteran campers groaning a little bit,” Mr. Young observed. “It’s true that when we tried this a couple years ago they beat the pants off of us. But I’m confident that we’re ready to take them on again, aren’t you? Go, Camp Rock!”
Again, the reaction probably wasn’t exactly what Mr. Young had been anticipating, but it had improved at least a little.
“This is exciting,” David commented as everyone began gathering their things. “Won’t it be fun to see what the other camp’s kids are like?”
“Are there other voice classes during the day?” Cook asked, apparently unaware that the last five minutes had even happened.
“Uh, I think this is the only one,” David replied, confused. Cook didn’t seem very happy at all. Besides, shouldn’t he have known that anyway?
Cook sighed and got up from his seat.
“Thanks for your help, David,” he said abruptly. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
~*~
The long walk back to Camp Star ended up being good for Cook, seeing as he felt completely defeated after all the effort he’d put into getting to Camp Rock. Not one of the voice students came close to the one he’d heard in the forest the day before, and most of the class had been female anyway. He’d definitely heard a male voice before, he just knew it.
He stormed into his cabin, slamming the door behind him.
“Hey!” Michael scolded him from across the room. “The hinges are gonna fall off if you keep that up. Where have you been?”
Cook ignored him and threw himself onto his bed.
“Everything is terrible,” Cook grumbled, staring up at the ceiling. “I mean, it can’t be that difficult to find an amazing singer, can it? Especially in a lot like that one.”
“You’re talking crazy again,” Michael said, coming to join him on the edge of the bed. “You want to explain?”
Cook flashed an angry expression at his friend.
“Why are you here?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you be out guiding the next generation to superstardom or something?”
“Well,” Michael answered, unaffected by Cook’s cranky attitude. “It’s lunchtime now, plus my break period is right after.”
“Break period!” Cook spat, even more angry now. “How come I don’t have a break period in my schedule?”
“Maybe because you keep running off,” Michael explained coolly. “Your kids are fine, by the way.”
Cook rolled his eyes and stared back at the ceiling. “And probably better off. I’m terrible at this job.”
“I don’t know how you can possibly know that when you’re never even here,” Michael observed. “Seriously, where did you go?”
Cook sighed and turned to look at Michael again. “Camp Rock.”
“What!” Michael exclaimed, surprise filling his face. He definitely wasn’t expecting that answer.
Cook sat up a little, leaning on one elbow.
“There is someone over there,” he explained, “who has this like, magical voice. I swear the devil got a soul in exchange for that voice or something. But I don’t know who he is so I went to find him.”
“Uh,” Michael stuttered, clearly still in shock. “Are you hearing voices in your head now?”
“Yes!” Cook answered loudly. “I mean, sort of. When I took off yesterday--”
“Mhmm,” Michael hummed sternly.
“I was wandering through the stupid overgrown bits that are between the camps,” Cook went on, trying to ignore Michael’s disciplinary stare. “And I heard a voice. Singing. Like, amazing angelic singing.”
“Maybe it was a sign from God,” Michael said, smirking. “David, you’ve been a very bad boy. Please turn your cares upon Heaven.”
Cook threw a pillow directly at Michael’s stupid face.
“Be serious,” he said bitterly.
“You be serious!” Michael retorted. “You’re sure it was someone from Camp Rock?”
“It had to be,” Cook replied. “I was way over on their side.”
“Well, if he’s so good then maybe he’ll be at Final Jam,” Michael observed.
“And?” Cook said. “How does their end-of-summer talent show thing help me?”
“Are you just the most inattentive person on earth, or what?” Michael asked. “They told us last night at dinner that Camp Rock invited Camp Star to participate this year.”
“Did they?” Cook asked, genuinely surprised. “I might have been distracted, I guess.”
“You’re incredible,” Michael sighed. “I’m gonna guess that you don’t remember me saying that we should volunteer to be judges then, right? I mean, are you listening to me even fifty percent of the time?”
“Wait, what?” Cook asked, suddenly interested. “What did you say?”
“I knew it!” Michael said. “I’m just gonna start saying everything twice to you, maybe you’ll get at least some of it.”
“Explain the judge situation to me,” Cook replied, a little irritated.
“They asked for volunteers to be judges,” Michael answered, looking exasperated by Cook. “Judges have to be camp veterans, the more years the better. Obviously, they’d pick you. It’d be good for you to volunteer anyway, before your aunt finally loses her cool with you.”
“That’ll never happen,” Cook replied. “I’ve never seen her angry in all my life.”
“In my experience you don’t want to push it with people like that,” Michael suggested. “They snap eventually and it’s not very pretty. Anyway, are you saying you’ll go down to the office and sign up with me?”
“Let’s go right now!” Cook demanded, jumping to his feet. He’d hoped to find opportunities to keep looking for his mystery singer over the next couple of weeks, but Michael was right. Final Jam would attract all of the best talent of both camps.
Cook was so happy he didn’t even mind returning to his afternoon classes.
~*~
David found it curious that a few days had passed without seeing Cook on his way to class again. For the first day or two he waited for him around the same spot where they’d met, in hopes of walking with him to class. It was strange because the more he thought about this newcomer the more he kind of really liked him. They’d spent less than two hours together, and they were clearly not cut from the same cloth, but there was still some kind of connection there. Cook seemed to be serious most of the time, but also curious about others. In between singers that day they’d chatted about random stuff -- David had rambled about his sister’s cat and Cook had talked about his brothers back home. If David had ever experienced anything even remotely close to love at first sight, this was it.
Well, crush at first sight, anyway.
But as the days wore on, David started to wonder if Cook had been some kind of figment of his imagination. Because even if Cook had decided not to be in that class anymore and changed again, David never saw him at the nightly campfires or in the mess hall. He never saw him lounging in the media center or taking a stroll by the boat dock.
So maybe that had been it, maybe David Cook wasn’t really real. Or maybe David had scared him away. That happened all the time back at home. David was so weird that people at school couldn’t wait to get away from him, it seemed. It figured his lucky streak with new friends had to end some time.
On the upside, however, Nick had asked David to start meeting with him during their free time in order to prepare for Final Jam. Although David enjoyed his free afternoons, Carly had outright stopped talking to him by now and because Jason, Brooke, and Syesha were closer friends to her than him, he knew it’d be better for him to make an exit rather than try to divide them. So really, Nick was his only friend at the moment.
He’d been right then, that his strange streak of new friends had to come crashing down eventually.
David made his way up to the meeting hall where he knew Nick would be waiting for him.
Just as he got within a few feet of the open door, however, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of raised voices coming from the room.
“I want you to stop leading him on,” a familiar woman’s voice was saying. There was no denying the accent -- it was definitely Carly.
“What on earth are you talking about?” Nick could be heard replying.
“You’re such a snake, Nick,” Carly spat, her voice carrying through the empty hall. “David’s a sweet kid and I won’t have you ruining him.”
“Since when do I take orders from you, I wonder?” Nick retorted, his voice sharp. “David’s my friend, and I’m sorry you can’t handle it. Just because you hate me for no reason doesn’t mean everyone has to.”
“Look, Nick Jonas, I know what you do to people. You build them up, give them hope, make them feel like they’re on top of the world. But it always turns out that you’ve got some ulterior motive, some way that you’ll benefit. It stops now.”
“I do not!” Nick protested loudly. David took a step back he was so surprised Nick could ever sound so vicious.
“Then why did you do it to me!” Carly shouted in reply.
David’s heart sank right into his stomach; it was obvious Carly was fighting back tears.
Silence filled the hall for a long moment before David could hear the clicking of Carly’s boots echoing towards the door.
“Carly, wait!” Nick called out to her.
Carly stopped, her heels squeaking on the wooden floor.
“I’m done with you,” Carly replied bitterly through broken breaths. “And you’d better be done with him. I won’t let you crush him like you did me.”
David managed to duck behind the open door just as Carly stormed through it, stomping all the way. She passed by closely enough for him to know for sure she was hiccuping back tears.
David counted to twenty before daring to move from his spot, then slowly peered around the door and into the room. Nick sat slumped at the grand piano, his fingers stroking the keys but not actually pressing down on any. David could’ve sworn even his curls looked sad.
“Uh, hi,” David said softly, now stepping into the giant room. “I just saw Carly run out of here. She seems… upset.”
Nick looked up wearily, as if he’d forgotten David would be there.
“Please don’t tell me you heard any of that,” Nick said quietly.
“Maybe… maybe a little,” David admitted. “I mean, not much.”
Nick sighed and gestured for David to come sit by him.
“I don’t know what she’s ever told you about me,” Nick said, staring down at the keyboard. “I mean, I know you’re friends and everything.”
“Not much, actually,” David answered truthfully. “I just know she doesn’t like you.”
“That’s shocking,” Nick replied, glancing up. “She used to love telling people every single reason why I was the worst human on earth.”
“What happened between you guys?” David asked. He hated seeing two people he really liked fighting with one another.
Nick let out a huge breath and glanced up at the ceiling for a moment before continuing.
“It’s super complicated,” Nick said. “But in short, a misunderstanding occurred that made us both so angry with one another that by the time we figured out what was really happening it was too late.”
“Well, can’t you explain… whatever it is… to her? She’s a reasonable person.” David knew this to be true. He’d spent enough time with her to know that at least.
Nick sighed and looked back to David.
“We might have also been dating,” he confessed.
David’s eyes went wide. Somehow that seemed like the mismatch of the century to him.
“Oh, we were great,” Nick said, apparently reading David’s thoughts. “Great until we found something to fight about. Then at some point she thought I was taking advantage of her talent somehow, and some of her friends that summer had thoroughly convinced her that I was flirting with other people… I wasn’t, by the way. Anyway, I’ve tried to talk to her a million times since then, but she won’t have it. You know how the Irish are.”
David wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, or whether he should’ve been offended on Carly’s behalf. But Nick looked so exhausted over the whole thing he decided to let it go.
“Well, I’m here now,” David said. “Shall we get to work? I find music is a good mind clearer.”
For the first time since David had arrived, Nick smiled.
“That sounds like an excellent idea.”
~*~
Over the next couple of days, Cook couldn’t stop thinking about Camp Rock. If someone had told him anytime before two weeks ago that that would have been the case, he would’ve punched that person square in the nose. But now he still had this mystery singer problem on his hands (no thanks to his spy mission) plus he just couldn’t stop thinking about that David kid.
Yes, really.
Although he’d been trying to concentrate on all the singers that day in voice class, he couldn’t help noticing David out of the corner of his eye every once in awhile. How he’d gaze with awe at a particularly good singer, or have this cute polite smile when someone was clearly terrible. How he’d lick his lips when he was thinking or how he’d say “Oh, gosh!” every time he dropped the pen he’d been fiddling with in his hands.
It also hadn’t escaped him that every time he brushed against Cook’s leg or arm he’d tense up for a brief second before letting out a controlled breath. That had made Cook grin every time.
Cook checked his watch. Four o’clock. Everyone should’ve been on free time if Cook remembered correctly, and assuming he actually took a direct trail this time he could make it to Camp Rock in about twenty-five minutes.
Because yes, he was going back.
He arrived on Camp Rock soil close to four-thirty, and sure enough plenty of campers were lounging around talking, playing games, and other things of the like. Trying to imagine where David might like to hang out, he wandered around a bit until he came face to face with the lake again.
Ugh, that lake! He’d have liked to drain it if he could.
Just before he dismissed the idea of cruising along the shore, however, he saw a familiar silhouette stationed on a large rock a bit off to the side. How he recognized David sitting there, he didn’t really know. Maybe it’d been the fact that he’d been on his mind so much lately.
“Boo,” Cook said quietly, coming up behind him.
David jumped a little, but when he looked up he wasn’t smiling. Even when he saw it was Cook he merely looked mildly surprised.
“Oh, hi,” he said, sitting up a little straighter. “Where have you been? You’re like a ghost or something.”
“Maybe I am,” Cook replied, pleased with the imagery. “Thought I’d come say hi since I hadn’t seen you in awhile.”
“It’s nice to know you’re not imaginary,” David replied solemnly. Cook felt a twinge in his chest; this was not the same cheerful, energetic David he’d met earlier.
“Nope, real flesh and bone,” Cook replied, trying to sound upbeat. “You can touch me if you want.”
Cook knew he didn’t always tell the best jokes, but this was getting ridiculous. David gave what could only be described as a generous smile, then turned back to look out at the lake as he had been before.
“David, what’s wrong?” Cook asked, taking a seat on a rather pointy part of the rock. “There’s no hiding sadness on you, obviously.”
David sighed and looked back to Cook.
“What are you supposed to do when you’ve made two nice friends but it turns out those two friends hate each other?”
Cook definitely hadn’t been ready for that.
“Uhh, wow, that’s tough,” Cook replied, running a hand through his hair. “Have you talked to them?”
“Yeah, sort of. I mean, one of them explained some stuff about how the other is basically holding a grudge,” David answered. “And the other one’s practically not talking to me.”
“Oh,” Cook said, surprised. “Well, it sounds like you don’t actually have anything to do with it,” he guessed. “They can’t tell you who to be friends with. Fuck ‘em.”
David started and cast his big glassy eyes up at Cook.
“Sorry,” Cook quickly apologized. “But seriously. See if you can reason with your one friend who isn’t talking to you. Then tell them both you won’t hear any more about it. They’ll come around because you’re a good friend.”
“How do you know I’m a good friend?” David asked quietly.
“Because you’re sitting here at the side of the lake worried about them both when it’s not even your problem,” Cook explained.
David sat quietly for a moment, his bottom lip caught firmly between his teeth.
“Look,” Cook said after a long pause. “I came looking for you because I was hoping to catch up. And, you know… I thought maybe you’d like that.”
“I would like that,” David replied, a small smile coming to his lips. “I wondered where you’d been, anyway.”
“So you’re saying you’ve been thinking about me?” Cook kidded.
“Er…” David trailed and Cook couldn’t help barking in laughter.
Cook put his hand on David’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly.
“How about this? I’m gonna let you finish moping. Then you go have dinner with your friend with the grudge. I’ll meet you back here after that and I’ll tell you everything I learned in Cub Scouts about astronomy.”
Finally, David’s face lit up in a genuine smile, and he even laughed a little bit.
“You’re a little bit crazy, aren’t you?” David asked.
“Yeah,” Cook agreed. “That’s what they tell me.”
~*~
It turned out that David Cook was totally right. With about all the courage David had ever mustered in his life, he marched over to Carly’s table with his dinner and just sat down across from her. He didn’t say anything at first, just sat down. Then after she’d stared at him for a little too long, he explained his feelings to her, how he didn’t like that she was so angry at Nick, but that he could live with it if she just agreed it wasn’t fair to drag him into the middle of it. He was going to be friends with Nick regardless. It was obvious that she really wanted to protest, but in the end she agreed that he was right.
“Besides, I’ve really missed seeing you blush when something is inappropriately funny,” she added. “Classic Archuleta.”
Feeling a whole lot better about his friend situation, David ate more than he had for days. He felt a thousand times better now that he got to have some conversation with his friends again, and he enjoyed himself so much that he completely lost track of time.
“Oh! I have to go!” he exclaimed suddenly, his eye catching the clock in the dining hall. “I have a date!”
Everyone at the table replied simultaneously.
“A date?”
“Well, I mean… not a date,” David said, cheeks reddening. “A meeting. With an acquaintance.”
“Either he’s hiding a date,” Carly joked, pointing a fork at him, “or he’s secretly involved with the mafia.”
Sometimes David didn’t understand other people’s humor at all.
By the time he made it back down to the lake it’d gotten fairly dark, and at first he didn’t see Cook anywhere. Afraid that he’d left, David felt his heart come up in his throat.
“Boo,” came a voice from behind him. David jumped.
“Would you stop doing that!” he cried. “I’m gonna have a heart attack before the end of summer if you keep that up.”
“Sorry,” Cook replied from somewhere in the half darkness. “I went and got a flashlight and some binoculars, but I could only find one so we’ll have to share.”
David stood frozen for a second. “Didn’t you wonder what took me so long?” he asked.
Cook shrugged his shoulders. “Not really. You were visiting with your friends. I could wait.”
“I should’ve invited you to come,” David realized a little too late. “I’m sorry, I’m so rude.”
“No, no, no,” Cook insisted. “That was all you. I didn’t need to hang around for all that. Okay, are you ready for my mastery of astronomy or what?”
“Let me have it,” David replied, chuckling.
“So this, out here? This is space,” Cook began, waving a hand in front of him. “It’s dark and cold and there’s no oxygen so don’t even think about going out there, okay?”
“Noted,” David said, staring up into the ever-darkening sky.
“Over here we have stars. That’s those bright twinkly things. They’re pretty far away, like a million miles or something.”
David had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing, though it was becoming difficult.
“Some of these stars make shapes,” Cook explained, still pointing. “There you’ve got the Big Dipper. I guess people in olden days called ladles dippers. There is the infamous unicorn constellation over there.”
Now David couldn’t help laughing out loud.
“There’s no unicorn constellation!” he said.
“Hey, who’s the one with the Cub Scout Astronomy badge here?” Cook replied. “That’s right, me.”
“Oh, all right,” David laughed. “Whatever you say.”
“That’s right,” Cook replied. “So… well, that’s the end of our tour.”
“That’s it?” David protested. “I want my money back.”
“Sorry, no refunds,” Cook informed him. A grin started to spread across his face. “Okay, but seriously, have you ever seen the moon through a pair of binoculars?”
David shook his head.
Cook set his flashlight down on the ground, then held the binoculars up to his eyes and focused on the moon. After a little adjusting, he waved David over and slipped them into his hands.
“Check that out,” Cook said, guiding the binoculars close to David’s eyes. Though David was perfectly capable of holding them himself, Cook still gripped one side of them. His other hand slid across David’s shoulder until they were standing very closely together.
“It’s amazing what you can see just with these,” Cook said softly, practically whispering into David’s ear. His warm breath breezed David’s cheek, distracting him from the subject at hand. Finally he focused, however, and the slight gasp that escaped his lips made Cook chuckle.
David had seen the moon a million times, just like anyone. He’d seen photos of it taken with fancy telescope equipment on television, or high quality posters in science classrooms. But none of that compared to looking at the craters and shadows that actually fell on the moon at that very moment, in three dimensions, in real life. The reality of it took his breath away.
“Incredible, right?” Cook whispered, breath still warm on David’s neck. “Just wait until you see a planet or the Pleiades or something. You’ll start feeling really existential real quick.”
David didn’t know what existential meant, but he did know this: If he’d been feeling like he was crushing on David Cook before, this pushed it all the way up to “falling.”
Part three