Camp Rock: You’re The Missing Piece I Need, The Song Inside Of Me - Part Three
You’re The Missing Piece I Need, The Song Inside Of Me
fieryrogue
“Whatta ya mean you’ve never done archery?” Cook asked as he picked through the selection of tattered bows that Camp Rock had in its sports shed. “Have you ever even gone outside?”
“I go outside!” David protested. The serious look on his face did nothing but amuse Cook even more. “I just run and stuff.”
Cook selected the two best bows he could find, bringing one to David. They started walking along the path towards the archery range, equipment strapped to their backs.
“I don’t know, David, it’s like you’ve never been to summer camp before or something.”
David stopped in his tracks, appearing crestfallen.
“I haven’t,” he admitted. This time the serious tone in his voice made Cook realize he’d said something dumb. He usually wouldn’t have cared so much, but this was David. He didn’t like upsetting David like that.
“Oh,” was all Cook could come up with. “Sorry, I forget not everyone was sent to camp from the age of five. Don’t look so sad! You were probably having great times with your siblings and stuff. Me? I bet my mom couldn’t even fathom having me home all day all summer long. And that’s not a reflection on her, let me tell you. She deserved the relief from me.”
David remained quiet as they ascended the slight hill that led up to the archery range. Cook had learned enough about David to know that he tended to stay quiet during conversations such as this, either because he didn’t know what to say or because he was just hoping Cook would shut up already. Either way, it was nice to get to the top of the path and find the archery range completely empty. Cook let out a sigh of relief because up until this point he’d managed to stay out of large crowds for the most part, which also meant avoiding being recognized. Cook was at least self-aware enough to know he was no Justin Timberlake or whatever - he could still walk down the street without being recognized in general - but both camps had to have a higher percentage of people knowing him. He’d been picked up straight out of a camp competition, after all.
Which brought him to the thought that David hadn’t recognized him either. At first this had been great, because at the time what he needed was cover, not attention. But now that he’d met David yet again for an afternoon activity it was becoming increasingly more difficult to navigate the fact that he was actually more than a typical camper around those parts. That could get sticky if anything became of this summer friendship.
Still contemplating the increasing complexity of his current social situation, Cook led David to a central spot along the line where archers were meant to stand.
“Okay, go ahead and lay your quiver on the ground, I guess,” Cook said, noting Camp Rock didn’t have the fancy shooting booth structures that Camp Star did. “That’s your thing with the arrows,” he added when David looked at him confused.
“So just take your bow in your hand like this,” Cook explained as he demonstrated. “Now you’ll see that I’m - David, what’s wrong?”
David knitted his brow as he shifted the bow from one hand to the other, as if he couldn’t figure out which hand went where.
“How do I hold this thing?” David asked tentatively. “Oh gosh, I’m just too dumb to do this, I can’t even hold the thing.”
“David,” Cook said kindly, putting his own bow down and stepping over to his companion. “Calm down, alright? Take a breath. Now, just put your left hand here…”
David hesitated as if following Cook’s instructions didn’t process in his brain correctly.
“Wait a second,” Cook instructed as something suddenly occurred to him. “Are you right or left handed?”
“Left,” David replied, sounding sorry for it. He’d somehow tangled his elbow in the stringed part of the bow.
“Well, no fucking wonder,” Cook muttered, then immediately apologized. “Sorry.”
Cook took hold of the bow and relieved David of its trappings. Tossing the bow to the ground he said, “That bow can go right to hell then. Here.”
He picked up his own bow again and placed it in David’s hands.
“For us lefties,” he said, smiling. “Okay, hold this part with your right hand. You’re gonna pull back on the arrow with your left.”
David did as he was told, this time with much greater success.
“Awesome,” Cook praised. “Okay, aim for one of those targets out there. They’re kind of far away at the moment, but that doesn’t matter. You gotta learn to shoot it first anyway.”
Unfortunately, David had a little bit of trouble doing this part. Cook cringed as David pulled lamely at the bowstring, resulting in him dropping his arrow.
“Oooh, that’s hard!” David cried, sounding defeated.
“Yeah,” Cook said, bending to pick up the arrow. “I forgot to say it’s very tightly strung, you gotta have a little strength. Try again.”
The second attempt went about as well as the first and Cook was afraid he was about to lose David’s attention entirely. From what Cook could remember of camp days gone by, it was pretty easy to give up on something like this because it wasn’t just an inexperience thing, but a strength thing - something you needed just to start. Luckily, he had a plan.
“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Cook explained, picking up the arrow again. “Nock that arrow and I’m gonna stand over here.”
As David did so, Cook moved to David’s right side, coming up close behind him.
“You keep holding there,” Cook instructed, referring to David’s holding of the bow. “I’m gonna help you draw this back, okay?”
David nodded silently, and Cook could’ve sworn he was holding his breath. In order to keep his own form in line, Cook rested his right hand around David’s, and as soon as their skin touched David tensed up, just as he’d done that day in the recording studio. Moving his left hand to meet David’s, he leaned in close, whispering in his student’s ear.
“Relax,” he reminded him. “Keep breathing. You’re gonna pull a shoulder muscle or something if you keep that up.”
The thing was, David seemed to be an expert at doing exactly the opposite when he was nervous.
“I said breathe, damn it,” Cook repeated a little more sharply.
The taste of sharpness must’ve done the trick, because David finally relaxed the tiniest amount, which resulted in him slightly easing his back into Cook’s chest.
Okay, so maybe Cook understood why David was feeling so nervous all of a sudden because now he was too. Warmth filled Cook’s chest, both outside and in, which didn’t seem like it should happen since it was the first week of August and about eighty-five degrees out. But it was like David had his own warmth, a gentler, more pleasing warmth, like a fire at Christmas or something. On top of that, David’s summer-tanned skin intruded into Cook’s face, the nape of his neck lightly damp with sweat. The whole situation was practically begging Cook to bring himself a little bit closer, to press his mouth into David’s shoulder blade.
What the actual hell was he thinking, allowing himself to be distracted like that? It was as if the mid-afternoon sun had baked his brain in an attempt to convince him to do something completely insane. Part of the point of this summer was to stop being insanely impulsive. He needed to rein it in quick.
“Okay,” he said, his throat dry and voice cracking. “So just pull back with me now…”
Truth be told, Cook did most of the work, as David’s arms had seemingly gone to jelly. But even so, David smiled a gigantic smile as he watched the arrow sail wobbly in front of them, achieving a distance of maybe ten or fifteen feet.
Usually Cook would’ve cheered, using too much enthusiasm in order to keep his student’s spirit up. But between the heat of the sun, the heat of David’s back, and the heat building in other parts of his body, he could barely keep himself upright.
“Great job,” he choked, letting go of David’s hands and taking a step back. A distinct coolness struck the palms of his hands and chest.
“That… was all right,” David said, daring to glance at his teacher. Sweat had formed at his temple as well, dampening his bangs, which for some reason made Cook’s internal furnace ratchet up a notch.
“See? It’s fun,” Cook managed, struggling to keep his cool.
“Yeah,” David replied. He licked his lips and Cook briefly had to look away. David smiled and grabbed another arrow from his quiver, handing it to Cook.
“Let’s do it again.”
~*~
The days only grew hotter as August progressed, and even though David had visited Honduras on a few occasions with his family, he still wasn’t ready for the weather reaching the upper nineties. On the day it was rumored to break a hundred, David Cook mysteriously showed up along the lake, appearing out of nowhere like always.
“How come you’re always hanging out by the lake?” David asked, wiping his brow with his arm.
“How come you’re always hanging out by the lake?” Cook challenged, shielding his eyes from the sun. “Are you secretly a mermaid and have to keep near the water?”
David made a face, but smiled. “My cabin’s right over there,” he said, gesturing. “What’s your excuse?”
“I guess I just know where to find you,” Cook replied solemnly.
Something about the way Cook looked at him made David’s heart do a cartwheel. He’d been trying to keep his emotions in check the last few days, reminding himself that soon camp would be over and he’d probably never see Cook ever again. But it was so hard to push away, especially as Cook started showing up more frequently to spend time together.
Or at least, he supposed he could call it “spending time together.” That sounded an awful lot like dating, which was way beyond anything he could possibly even fathom at the moment. But it seemed Cook only wanted to spend time with him, as when David had suggested inviting Brooke or Jason along Cook made a scrunchy face that clearly meant no. (It was a cute scrunchy face though, so sometimes David still asked just so Cook would make the face.)
“You think there’s a pool around here somewhere?” Cook asked, still squinting against the sun.
“Uh,” David replied, glancing towards the water not twenty feet away from them. “The lake is right here?”
Cook’s eyes went wide and he stared at David for a long moment.
“I’m not swimming in the lake,” Cook replied.
“Why not?” David asked, genuinely confused.
“Oh no,” Cook replied, shaking his head. “That lake and I have a bad history.”
“What, don’t you know how to swim?” David asked, smirking.
“I know how to swim, David,” Cook said defensively. “But aren’t there like… like fish in there? Sharks? The Loch Ness monster?”
“You’re so weird,” David replied, smirking, though he himself had been wary of fish swimming by him earlier in the summer. By now he’d gotten used to it though and realized it wasn’t that big of a deal.
“Come on,” he added. “Go get your swim trunks from your cabin and meet me back here.”
“Uhhh,” Cook stammered, seemingly looking for an excuse. “My cabin is kind of a long way from here. Like far away. I’m not even sure I brought swim trunks anyway.”
“You didn’t bring swim trunks to camp!” David replied in surprise. “What? What are you even saying?”
“I didn’t exactly plan on going into the lake,” Cook mumbled.
“Oh for goodness sake,” David said, exasperated. “Come on, we’ll see if a pair of mine or Jason’s will fit you.”
Cook reluctantly followed along, dragging his feet the whole way. David wouldn’t have usually forced someone to do something he didn’t want to do, but this was just silly. Didn’t bring swimming trunks to camp. What kind of madness was this? And who didn’t like at least wading in the water on a scorching hot day? The sun must’ve been getting to Cook or something.
After a little searching, David found a second pair of shorts his mother had packed, one he knew was a little too big for him. But he also knew that she did this kind of thing sometimes, packing extra things in case someone else needed them. Sometimes David felt it was ridiculous, but again, his mother ended up being helpful to him without even being there. He handed Cook the extra pair and then they headed towards the nearby bathroom to change.
By the time they made it back, the sun had just begun to sink below the tops of the trees, a glowing orange piercing through their branches. Despite this, the air still hung with thick humidity, and David was more than happy to tread right into the lake water, happy for its cool relief.
“Come on in, the water’s fine,” David said to Cook, who had stopped short at the shoreline. He laughed as he added, “I’ve always wanted to say that.”
“I’m just gonna sit here on this rock and put my feet in,” Cook replied, moving towards a large boulder near the water’s edge. “Also, I feel ridiculous in these neon green shorts,” he added bitterly.
“No one will see your neon green shorts if you come in the water,” David coaxed as he continued into waist-deep water.
“Good Lord almighty,” Cook said as he poked a toe in the water. “It’s freezing! You’d think sitting under this sun all day it’d be warmer.”
“It’s not freezing!” David replied, water up to his chest now. “It’s perfect.”
“You go ahead,” Cook replied. “Look, there’s no lifeguard on this beach. I gotta keep an eye out for you.”
David rolled his eyes before letting his body sink into the water, pulling his head completely underneath with him. The rush of cold water instantly refreshed him from top to bottom, and he could almost feel the sticky heat peeling away. Kicking out, he swam under the surface for a moment until he needed to take a breath, and was surprised when he finally came up for air to find he was so far from shore. He wondered if he could guess Cook’s worried thoughts since he’d seemingly been under for so long.
It amused David, however, that the rough and tumble rock star found his weakness at the water’s edge. Sure, there were legitimate reasons to be afraid of bodies of water; drowning was no laughing matter. But Cook wouldn’t even step in, get his feet wet. He’d said he knew how to swim, so what was the real problem?
As David made a few laps back and forth he thought about how he could get Cook into the water. It seemed like convincing him with words wasn’t going to work, so he’d have to try something else. He’d have to convince him with action.
Kicking out from where he was, he headed back toward the shore only to find Cook had now draped the towel he’d brought over his shoulders like a cape.
“What are you doing?” David asked, again wading in waist-deep water. He swept his hand through his hair in order to direct water out of his eyes.
“It occurred to me I might burn,” Cook replied unconvincingly.
“You’re really bringing this whole afternoon down,” David said, trying to sound disappointed. Maybe a little guilt would get Cook to join him.
“You’re the one who insisted!” Cook said, waving a hand. “I mean, if you want to come sit here and hang out with me instead, that’s cool.”
David had had about enough. He thought about how much fun his brother and sisters had on hot summer days in Utah, swimming and splashing water at one another, his sisters screeching happily the entire time. His brother, Daniel, was the one who always started the water fights, finding great joy in chasing his sisters all around the back yard.
Which gave David an idea.
Without any kind of warning, David bent to scoop his hand into the water, cupping a good amount before flinging it out towards his sourpuss friend. A good amount of it landed across Cook’s knees, which caused him to look up with complete shock on his face. David couldn’t help the humongous grin on his face.
“What was that for?” Cook demanded, narrowing his brow.
But David didn’t answer. Words weren’t working in this situation, so he wasn’t going to use them. He bent again and scooped up an even bigger wave of water, which reached Cook’s upper thighs this time, and splattered his shoulders a bit.
“You’re getting my towel wet!” Cook protested.
“Well, you’re not using it!” David reasoned as he started a pattern of splashes up towards the shore, each one bigger than the last. Cook finally threw off his towel, allowing it to tumble onto the rocks behind him.
“Damn it, David,” he grumbled, stomping towards the water. David’s plan was working perfectly. Now it was time to bring out the big guns.
David laughed as he positioned himself so as to use both of his hands together to create a veritable tsunami of water towards Cook, who had to shield his face to protect himself from flying water. A grin finally grew on the latter’s face as he waded out to where he could also reach the water and began splashing back.
“You’re in big trouble, mister,” Cook warned. David laughed hard enough that he lost his footing and nearly fell backwards into the lake.
Now waist-deep himself, Cook pushed through the water, sending up splashes the whole way. It soon became difficult to see through their watery crossfire, and David had to pause to rub water out of his eyes.
It turned out to be a fatal mistake.
Unexpectedly, Cook lunged forward, grabbing David by the shoulders. David opened his eyes long enough to see Cook grinning before he found himself being swiftly pushed back and under, barely able to close them again before his whole head was submerged. For one brief second David panicked as anyone would when taken by surprise, but Cook’s hands were quickly off of him allowing him to recover easily.
Flailing, it took David longer than expected to right himself, and as soon as his ears came above water he could hear Cook cackling from the safety of shallow water.
“So you push someone down and then run away, huh?” David asked, spitting lake water out of his mouth. “Afraid of me, are you?”
Cook just continued laughing as David swam back to where he could touch and wade back towards his attacker.
“I dare you to come after me,” Cook taunted, which sounded like he didn’t think David would do it. But Cook hadn’t been in an Archuleta family water fight before either.
Deftly wading through the water, David grabbed Cook by the wrist, something that seemed to surprise him to say the least. Tugging as hard as he could, David tried to pull Cook off his balance, doing his best to swing him around into the deeper water. Because Cook weighed more than him it took a lot of effort, but it was for the same reason that Cook came splashing down into the water, arms helicoptering the whole way.
The maneuver had caused David to fall off balance as well, but he managed not to go under at least. When Cook finally made it up for air David burst into laughter at his companion’s soaked hair sticking to his face, water dripping from his beard.
“That wasn’t very nice!” Cook bellowed, combing his fingers through his hair. “A fish touched my face!”
“Oh sure,” David replied, still laughing as he settled into shallow enough water for sitting. “When I do it it’s not very nice. Come here and get your towel, you big baby,” David kidded. “Before you melt away or whatever.”
Cook gave David an evil eye as he passed him, kicking up a splash of water with his foot on the way. David merely laughed as he wiped away the drops from his cheek. He watched as Cook retrieved his towel and immediately started rubbing it against his head.
“You know what?” Cook asked, still wringing water out of his hair. David couldn’t help thinking he looked awfully cute with his hair sticking up weirdly everywhere. “I don’t think I’ve had this much fun in ages.”
“Well, good,” David replied, genuinely pleased. He didn’t think he had either, really, not since he’d gotten to camp at least. “Sorry for getting you all wet,” he added.
“Yeah, well, don’t think revenge isn’t already brewing,” Cook joked. “But I guess it did cool me off, so… I’m not saying thank you, but…”
“You’re welcome,” David said, getting up out of the water. “Now stop hogging the towel.”
~*~
The final weeks leading up to Final Jam were nothing short of chaotic. Cook tried to visit David a couple more times, but soon got swept up in preparations and judge-related duties, as he and Michael had been selected to represent Camp Star. It was getting harder to explain to David why he couldn’t see him every single day, but luckily saying that he was busy with Final Jam business both satisfied David and wasn’t even a lie.
On the day of the competition, Cook and Michael were ordered to stay in their cabin until show time, because as judges they were meant to be unbiased and couldn’t be influenced by those practicing in the auditorium all day. This was ridiculous, of course. Even the most honest judge would at least be familiar with the people from his respective camp and potentially favor them a little. Outside judges would’ve been more accurate, but whatever. Cook got to sleep in and play cards with Michael all day so he almost didn’t care.
The competition was set for the mid-afternoon, so after a long lunch Cook was finally allowed to wander over to the auditorium and start getting settled in. Packs of spectators had already started filing in, eager to get good seats. The Camp Star auditorium had been chosen because it was bigger, but as Cook pushed his way through to go check in, he sure seemed to pass a lot more people with Camp Rock t-shirts on.
After getting his instructions and judging criteria, Cook headed on in. He was one of the few people who would actually have an assigned seat, but he sort of wanted to get in before it became more of a madhouse than it already was. Besides, he didn’t feel like hanging out in the lobby in a sea of overenthusiastic Camp Rock campers.
Cook made his way up to the judges’ table, clipboard of scoring sheets in hand. Michael hadn’t arrived yet, but the two Camp Rock judges were just finding their seats. Paper place cards had been put at each of the four seats and Cook could see that his was second from the left.
“Oh, Jesus, do I really have to sit next to you?” the girl with dark brown hair was saying to her Camp Rock companion just as Cook was approaching. “Are these seats permanent?”
“Trust me, I already asked,” the latter replied, eyes squinting. “The Emcee’s already got the script to introduce us in a certain order. So deal with it.”
Cook put his clipboard down and glared at the two. “Geez, if this is how people on the same side treat one another, I’m afraid to sit down.”
“He and I will never be on the same side,” the girl replied, putting her things down as well. “I already like you more than him and I don’t even know you. I’m Carly, by the way.”
Carly put out her hand and Cook took it briefly. “David Cook.”
Carly paused, staring at him. A half-second later the other judge -- Nick, according to his place card -- shot a look around Carly’s shoulder.
“Oh, wow,” Carly said, letting go of Cook’s hand. “Uh, no offense, but you’ve kind of been a total jerk on the news lately.”
“Please don’t remind me,” Cook sighed. “I’m fully aware of my stupidity by now.”
“Well, it’s not that surprising, Carly,” Nick piped up from behind her. “You know what kind of self-important people Camp Star produces.”
Cook started to say “What’s that supposed to mean?” but Carly cut him off.
“Oh, look who’s talking,” she said bitingly. “Just because you couldn’t get in.”
“Can we just sit?” Nick asked.
Cook took his seat and began reviewing the score cards, all the while trying not to care about the two Camp Rockers next to him. Each of the forms had been partially pre-filled with the contestant’s name and other vital information such as what instrument he or she played or what type of music they were going to play. Cook found this to be a smart idea; he didn’t know about anyone else but there was no way he was going to be able to keep up with all that on his own.
Michael finally arrived, taking his place next to Cook.
“What’d I miss?” he asked automatically.
“Nothing, of course,” Cook replied, giving his friend a look. “It hasn’t started.”
“Hey, Camp Star,” Nick called from the other end of the table. “You ready to get beat?”
“Ha!” Michael retorted, leaning so he could see around Cook. “Just like last time? Because I’m pretty sure you got absolutely creamed, Rockers.”
The lights started to fade and the audience briefly went on a screaming frenzy before settling down as Aunt Paula came to take center stage.
“Welcome everyone,” she announced over some fringe noises. “We’re happy to have all of you here today for this very special edition of Final Jam. I just want to take a quick moment to introduce our judges tonight; veterans from both camps, Nick Jonas, Carly Smithson, David Cook, and Michael Johns. We’ve got a lot of talent waiting for you, so let’s get started!” she added with a fist pump.
Her last sentence and Michael’s name were both lost in the screaming and commotion that resulted in Cook’s name being announced, which only seemed to amuse Michael rather than annoy him. Nick glared at him from down the table, and Cook just wanted to melt under the table. For once in his life he wanted no attention whatsoever.
The show got underway and the talent had its ups and downs, but overall not too bad. Cook was overly thankful because in all of Michael’s excitement of being a judge, Cook forgot just how terrible the job might actually be. After more than an hour and a half of electric guitars, drum solos, and even glockenspiels, Aunt Paula returned to the stage as she had several times while equipment was being set up for the next contestant.
“All right, everyone,” Aunt Paula announced to the crowd. “We’ve seen a lot of amazing performances tonight already. I don’t envy the judges who have to choose from this wonderful selection. You’re all winners.”
Nick huffed audibly from his end of the table as he continued to scribble notes about the last performer.
“We’ve got one last treat for you, however,” Paula finished, beginning to gesture towards the piano being pushed back onstage. “Our last contestant from Camp Rock, David Archuleta.”
As they had done for every other introduction, the audience clapped politely as the named contestant made his way across the stage and took his place at the piano. Cook couldn’t help notice Nick looking up suddenly and stop writing mid-sentence.
Cook flipped to the last page, where “David Archuleta” had already been printed at the top. “Piano” had been indicated in the “discipline” field as well. Cook looked up just in time to see David -- his David -- crossing the stage.
It occurred to him in that moment that he’d never learned David’s last name. In fact, in the short amount of time they’d managed to spend together neither one of them had talked about music too much. Odd, since obviously both of them were at music camps at the same time.
On top of that, Cook’s theory about bias amongst judges had just gotten a wrench thrown into it; because he was definitely favoring this Camp Rock contestant already.
As the crowd quieted and the lights faded, David started to play, a little tentatively at first. Cook could tell he was extremely nervous, which usually he might mark down a point under the belief that performers needed to be confident in their skills. But Cook forgot about this quickly as power grew in the notes echoing across Camp Star’s auditorium. David soon dove into an upbeat pop song with a technical ability that Cook absolutely did not expect, not only from Camp Rock but from anyone. He’d be hard pressed to think even Andy could keep up with this kid. He stared wordlessly down at the stage, his pen not even touching the page.
And then David began to sing.
Cook thought for sure that his eyes might be about to pop right out of his cranium as about a million different beams of information struck him all at once. “Voice” had not been marked on his score sheet as it usually would have been alongside the instrument. Why on earth not, he couldn’t begin to imagine. Said voice didn’t seem like it even belonged to the slender, dark-haired, nerves-shaken performer. And the more words that washed over him, the more Cook realized what he was hearing.
This was The Voice he’d been hearing inside his head for weeks.
His pen officially fell on the floor at that point, and Carly glanced over at him smirking. Sure, she probably already knew David Archuleta had an amazing voice. David Archuleta was probably some glorified prince over in Camp Rock land. As for Nick, his expression was hard to read, somewhere between amazement and pride.
By the time the song finished, the entire judges’ panel was frozen in awe of this tiny little being pushing out that incredible voice and piano skill. The audience exploded. David Archuleta, just moments before filled with musical energy, now held back, a polite smile on his face, looking about as humble as any human had ever been.
“Mate,” Michael said from Cook’s left. “Dude.”
“I know,” Cook replied, still staring towards the stage. “I…”
Aunt Paula had returned to the stage yet again, struggling to calm the audience and reminding everyone that it was now time to be patient as the judges made their final calculations. Cook stood up in his spot, striving to catch a last glimpse of the person he’d been dying to meet all summer long. The person he’d actually known all along.
“Oy, your pen rolled over here,” Michael announced, bending to pick it up at his feet. He held it out in Cook’s direction, but Cook couldn’t have cared less about a stupid pen at the moment. In a sudden return to his rebel self, he jumped over the table, leaving a wake of scattered papers all over the floor.
“Hey!” both Michael and Carly said together.
But Cook was already gone, having dropped down from the elevated platform where their table stood to the masses of chatting audience members below. The aisles had filled in the impatience and boredom of waiting, and Cook had to fight against the crowd in order to make it to the front of the auditorium.
“Davey, what on earth are you doing?”
Aunt Paula’s voice rang in Cook’s ear as he climbed straight up the front of the stage instead of going around to the side steps.
“Where did he go?” he demanded, not caring if he made any sense. He knew he didn’t make any sense. None of this made any sense. David Archuleta made no sense whatsoever.
“Davey, you’re supposed to be finishing your scores,” Aunt Paula said with concern. “David!”
She shouted after him as he darted to stage left, knowing he had a fifty-fifty chance of catching up with David. He just hoped the contestants hadn’t been herded downstairs in the meantime.
It seemed he was in luck, because just as he ducked behind one of the stage curtains, he nearly ran face-first into David Archuleta.
“You!” he exclaimed a little too loudly.
“I… hello? What are you doing down here? Also, you never told me you were a judge!” David was understandably confused.
“You’re the voice,” Cook said, grabbing David by the shoulders.
“Pardon?”
“You’re the voice I hear inside my head!” Cook declared, pretty happy with himself. “It was you all along!”
“I’m sorry,” David apologized. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“David,” Cook said desperately, pulling David to the side. “When I showed up at Camp Rock that day saying I was looking for the voice class, I was really trying to track down someone I’d heard singing in the forest the day before. I’m not from Camp Rock, I’m from Camp Star. But I’ve been looking for… for you all summer!”
David’s eyes went wide and Cook immediately knew that he’d been right.
“It was you!” Cook said, almost accusingly. “You’re the voice. But I never even thought about finding out if anyone not in voice class could sing.”
“Wait, did you say you’re from Camp Star?” he asked, sounding slightly hurt. It took Cook a moment to figure out why, but of course in all his tunnel vision he hadn’t anticipated this bit at all.
“Um, yes,” Cook replied sheepishly, rubbing his neck. “I’m… I’m sorry. It’s just that, like I said, I snuck over there on a mission and ended up gradually getting to know you better and the more time went on the more awkward it seemed to tell you…”
“So this is a good time then?” David asked, obviously sore. Cook felt terrible. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go at all, not that he’d even planned it anyway.
“David, I’m sorry,” Cook repeated. He had no idea what else to say. “I’m just an idiot. Idiot is my middle name, ask anyone here.”
“Oh, is that so?” David asked, brow raising.
“Well, no, it’s actually Roland, but that’s beside the point.” Cook paused a second, narrowing his eyes. “Also, don’t tell anyone that.”
David sort of snickered, which made Cook feel at least a little bit better.
“What’s more important is this,” Cook said with all seriousness. “I started out trying to find that voice because I hadn’t heard talent like that in ages. I wanted to get that person on my label, under my management.”
The smirk melted from David’s face, clearly shocked by such news.
“But then I’ve been hanging out with you over the last couple weeks,” Cook continued, becoming more and more aware of how restless everyone in the building was becoming. He knew he wouldn’t have much more time.
“You were so nice to me, even when I was kind of a jerk. For some reason you still agreed to hang out with me and put up with my crankiness and I just… I can’t explain it at all but I really like you, David. We’re complete and utter opposites but I’m so attracted to you and… and you’re the voice.”
David remained frozen, only able to sputter awkward word-like sounds that meant nothing at all. Deer-in-headlight syndrome had set in so Cook did the only thing he knew how to do: something extreme and crazy in order to shock him back to reality.
With bright lights burning up the house and chattering voices flooding his ears, Cook pushed forward, cupping David’s chin as he went in for a firm kiss that nearly sent David backwards into a wardrobe rack. After a moment of what seemed like absolute terror on his part, David relaxed ever so slightly into it, and Cook wanted nothing more than to savor those soft lips forever.
“Davey, there you are!”
Aunt Paula pulled back the scrap of curtain that hid them, only to be stunned into her own moment of frozen time. David’s cheeks instantly went scarlet and Cook couldn’t help laughing at the entire situation.
“Davey,” she said again after taking a breath. “I’m sorry to break up your moment, but we’re all waiting on you to fill out your scorecard for Mr. Archuleta.”
As she said it she waved the unfinished form in his face, and Cook grabbed it and the pen she offered as well.
“As if this is even necessary,” Cook commented impatiently as he drew one large circle down the side of the sheet, encapsulating every single 10 possible. “Here, calculate that!”
Paula raised her brow at the paper being thrust back at her, then a smile appeared on her lips.
“Okay, then,” she said happily. “I think we know our winner.”
~*~
David couldn’t believe he’d actually won Final Jam. He almost hadn’t even entered, but Nick had insisted. He did worry a little bit about Cook’s biased scoring, but Cook had told him to stop thinking about things so deeply because they were trying to celebrate. (Both camps had merged for a campfire celebration afterward.)
Since camp was officially over, there was nothing left to do in the morning except have breakfast and wait for parents to pick up campers. Hardly anyone ate anything as they all exchanged phone numbers and promises to become friends on Facebook. And of course they would all be at Camp Rock again next year.
David was still waiting in the grand meeting hall with all of his stuff long after Carly, Brooke, and everyone else had left. He was pretty sure his mom would be sort of late since he had probably traveled the furthest out of everyone, by car anyway. It was okay though because it gave him time to think about the summer he’d just had; how crazy, confusing, and fun it had been. He’d made marked improvements in a lot of areas, even in those he never expected. And he’d won an award -- he still had to process that. His mom would surely flip when she saw it. Besides all that, he’d kind of gotten a boyfriend? He didn’t really know if Cook was his boyfriend since no one had said as much, and they’d not had too much alone time since Final Jam to talk privately since everyone under the sun kept coming up to congratulate him on his win.
“Hey, you’re still here.”
David looked up to find Nick walking towards him, guitar case in one hand. He’d forgotten that Nick actually played about a million different instruments.
“Yeah,” David replied solemnly. “My mom’s coming from a long way away.”
Nick took a seat next to him and laid his guitar on the floor.
“You miss it already, don’t you?” Nick observed. His eyes were scanning the room instead of looking at David.
“Yeah,” David replied. “How did you know?”
Nick flashed that smile David remembered from weeks ago, chuckling a little.
“Because it happens to everyone,” Nick said honestly. “Because I feel the same way right now.”
David looked up at Nick with surprise. “What? But haven’t you been coming here since you were like six?”
“Yeah,” Nick confirmed, finally glancing over at David. “It never goes away.”
The two sat silently for a moment, the hall now completely empty except for them.
“I, uh, wanted to say I’m sorry,” Nick said, looking down at his hands. “For dragging you into the middle of drama.”
“It’s not your fault,” David said.
“It kind of is,” Nick replied. “I might’ve started it by talking to you on the first day of camp. That kind of was just to piss Carly off.”
“Oh,” David said quietly, a little surprised.
“I mean, I can actually be a jerk sometimes,” Nick admitted. “And self-centered. It’s why I don’t actually have many friends outside of my brothers. I know it’s something I have to work on.”
“It’s okay,” David replied, glad that Nick could recognize his own faults.
“It’s not,” Nick said. “But I know what you mean.”
Just then, Joe poked his head in the door, waving at Nick.
“C’mon, Nicky, Dad’s here!”
“Coming!” Nick answered. Joe disappeared back outside.
“You didn’t yell at him for calling you Nicky,” David observed.
“Yeah, well,” Nick said. “I’m turning over a new leaf.”
For some unknown reason, Nick’s answer seemed absolutely hilarious and the two of them burst into laughter.
“Why is that funny?” Nick asked, rubbing his eyes.
“I have no idea,” David admitted, but it suddenly reminded him of home. The Archuletas were always cracking up for no reason whatsoever.
“See you next summer?” Nick asked. “I hope?”
“Be there or be square,” David answered. He had a feeling only squares ever actually said that.
“I’m always here,” Nick assured him. “I’ll look for you on Facebook or whatever. I’d better go, Joe’s making faces at the window.”
David tried to muffle his snickering, but failed miserably.
“Okay, moron, I’m coming!” Nick shouted as he pushed through the door.
David was only alone for a second before he was surprised by a pair of hands coming over his eyes from behind.
“Guess who?” said a now-all-too-familiar voice in his ear.
“Cook! You scared me!” David yelped. “What’re you doing here?”
“Pfft, Andy and Neal won’t come to get me until the last possible moment, if I know them. After dark, probably. Neal will think that’s the funniest thing on earth. He better be nice, I made him a birdhouse.” He paused. “Okay, so I bought it off a kid five minutes ago.”
He held up a shoddily handmade birdhouse painted in bright neon colors.
David shook his head in disbelief. “You have weird friends, David Cook.”
“Yeah, but they’re mine,” Cook said, smiling like a proud mama. “Hey, I’ve got something for you too.”
“What?” David asked. “You shouldn’t h--”
“Don’t get too excited,” Cook warned, reaching into his jacket pocket. A second later he was pulling out a long bit of blue-gray fabric that seemed awfully familiar.
“My scarf!” David exclaimed, grabbing it out of Cook’s hands. “I thought I lost it!”
“You did,” Cook told him, beaming like an idiot. “In the forest that day.”
“You found it?”
“It was my only clue,” Cook replied. “Not that it did me any good in the end. Stupid scarf.”
“Hey!” David protested, pulling it around his neck. “I love this scarf.”
“Fashionable scarves are so not rock and roll,” Cook teased. He tugged gently on the light fabric until David’s mouth met his in a short kiss. “But you make it work.”
“I’m gonna miss you,” David said solemnly, sadness quickly overcoming him. “I don’t want to wait until next summer to see you again. What if you forget about me?”
Cook scrunched his face as if he’d never heard anything so ridiculous in his life.
“Uh, David, we live in the twenty-first century. With cell phones and Skype and e-mail?”
“Oh, I don’t really use the Internet too often,” David admitted, which was basically true. He liked being outdoors and stuff a whole lot more than playing with electronics all the time.
“Well, you’re gonna learn,” Cook said warningly. “You ever heard of Snapchat?”
“I think my sister has that?” David answered, unsure.
“Yeah, well, don’t be showing her any snaps I send you from the road,” Cook said with a glint in his eye.
“What?” David asked innocently.
“Nevermind,” Cook replied, still grinning. “What time’s your mom coming?”
“I have no idea,” David admitted. “She’s coming a long way. Could be awhile, I guess.”
“You wanna go canoeing with me until then?”
David gave Cook a sideways glance. “Do you even know how to work one of those things?”
“How dare you, sir,” Cook said, feigning insult. “Of course I do. If you don’t count that one time I capsized a canoe when I was twelve.”
“Well, you’ve really sold me on this idea,” David replied sarcastically. “Lead the way.”
“I’ll lead you anywhere, David Archuleta.”
~*~
FIN
fieryrogue
“Whatta ya mean you’ve never done archery?” Cook asked as he picked through the selection of tattered bows that Camp Rock had in its sports shed. “Have you ever even gone outside?”
“I go outside!” David protested. The serious look on his face did nothing but amuse Cook even more. “I just run and stuff.”
Cook selected the two best bows he could find, bringing one to David. They started walking along the path towards the archery range, equipment strapped to their backs.
“I don’t know, David, it’s like you’ve never been to summer camp before or something.”
David stopped in his tracks, appearing crestfallen.
“I haven’t,” he admitted. This time the serious tone in his voice made Cook realize he’d said something dumb. He usually wouldn’t have cared so much, but this was David. He didn’t like upsetting David like that.
“Oh,” was all Cook could come up with. “Sorry, I forget not everyone was sent to camp from the age of five. Don’t look so sad! You were probably having great times with your siblings and stuff. Me? I bet my mom couldn’t even fathom having me home all day all summer long. And that’s not a reflection on her, let me tell you. She deserved the relief from me.”
David remained quiet as they ascended the slight hill that led up to the archery range. Cook had learned enough about David to know that he tended to stay quiet during conversations such as this, either because he didn’t know what to say or because he was just hoping Cook would shut up already. Either way, it was nice to get to the top of the path and find the archery range completely empty. Cook let out a sigh of relief because up until this point he’d managed to stay out of large crowds for the most part, which also meant avoiding being recognized. Cook was at least self-aware enough to know he was no Justin Timberlake or whatever - he could still walk down the street without being recognized in general - but both camps had to have a higher percentage of people knowing him. He’d been picked up straight out of a camp competition, after all.
Which brought him to the thought that David hadn’t recognized him either. At first this had been great, because at the time what he needed was cover, not attention. But now that he’d met David yet again for an afternoon activity it was becoming increasingly more difficult to navigate the fact that he was actually more than a typical camper around those parts. That could get sticky if anything became of this summer friendship.
Still contemplating the increasing complexity of his current social situation, Cook led David to a central spot along the line where archers were meant to stand.
“Okay, go ahead and lay your quiver on the ground, I guess,” Cook said, noting Camp Rock didn’t have the fancy shooting booth structures that Camp Star did. “That’s your thing with the arrows,” he added when David looked at him confused.
“So just take your bow in your hand like this,” Cook explained as he demonstrated. “Now you’ll see that I’m - David, what’s wrong?”
David knitted his brow as he shifted the bow from one hand to the other, as if he couldn’t figure out which hand went where.
“How do I hold this thing?” David asked tentatively. “Oh gosh, I’m just too dumb to do this, I can’t even hold the thing.”
“David,” Cook said kindly, putting his own bow down and stepping over to his companion. “Calm down, alright? Take a breath. Now, just put your left hand here…”
David hesitated as if following Cook’s instructions didn’t process in his brain correctly.
“Wait a second,” Cook instructed as something suddenly occurred to him. “Are you right or left handed?”
“Left,” David replied, sounding sorry for it. He’d somehow tangled his elbow in the stringed part of the bow.
“Well, no fucking wonder,” Cook muttered, then immediately apologized. “Sorry.”
Cook took hold of the bow and relieved David of its trappings. Tossing the bow to the ground he said, “That bow can go right to hell then. Here.”
He picked up his own bow again and placed it in David’s hands.
“For us lefties,” he said, smiling. “Okay, hold this part with your right hand. You’re gonna pull back on the arrow with your left.”
David did as he was told, this time with much greater success.
“Awesome,” Cook praised. “Okay, aim for one of those targets out there. They’re kind of far away at the moment, but that doesn’t matter. You gotta learn to shoot it first anyway.”
Unfortunately, David had a little bit of trouble doing this part. Cook cringed as David pulled lamely at the bowstring, resulting in him dropping his arrow.
“Oooh, that’s hard!” David cried, sounding defeated.
“Yeah,” Cook said, bending to pick up the arrow. “I forgot to say it’s very tightly strung, you gotta have a little strength. Try again.”
The second attempt went about as well as the first and Cook was afraid he was about to lose David’s attention entirely. From what Cook could remember of camp days gone by, it was pretty easy to give up on something like this because it wasn’t just an inexperience thing, but a strength thing - something you needed just to start. Luckily, he had a plan.
“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Cook explained, picking up the arrow again. “Nock that arrow and I’m gonna stand over here.”
As David did so, Cook moved to David’s right side, coming up close behind him.
“You keep holding there,” Cook instructed, referring to David’s holding of the bow. “I’m gonna help you draw this back, okay?”
David nodded silently, and Cook could’ve sworn he was holding his breath. In order to keep his own form in line, Cook rested his right hand around David’s, and as soon as their skin touched David tensed up, just as he’d done that day in the recording studio. Moving his left hand to meet David’s, he leaned in close, whispering in his student’s ear.
“Relax,” he reminded him. “Keep breathing. You’re gonna pull a shoulder muscle or something if you keep that up.”
The thing was, David seemed to be an expert at doing exactly the opposite when he was nervous.
“I said breathe, damn it,” Cook repeated a little more sharply.
The taste of sharpness must’ve done the trick, because David finally relaxed the tiniest amount, which resulted in him slightly easing his back into Cook’s chest.
Okay, so maybe Cook understood why David was feeling so nervous all of a sudden because now he was too. Warmth filled Cook’s chest, both outside and in, which didn’t seem like it should happen since it was the first week of August and about eighty-five degrees out. But it was like David had his own warmth, a gentler, more pleasing warmth, like a fire at Christmas or something. On top of that, David’s summer-tanned skin intruded into Cook’s face, the nape of his neck lightly damp with sweat. The whole situation was practically begging Cook to bring himself a little bit closer, to press his mouth into David’s shoulder blade.
What the actual hell was he thinking, allowing himself to be distracted like that? It was as if the mid-afternoon sun had baked his brain in an attempt to convince him to do something completely insane. Part of the point of this summer was to stop being insanely impulsive. He needed to rein it in quick.
“Okay,” he said, his throat dry and voice cracking. “So just pull back with me now…”
Truth be told, Cook did most of the work, as David’s arms had seemingly gone to jelly. But even so, David smiled a gigantic smile as he watched the arrow sail wobbly in front of them, achieving a distance of maybe ten or fifteen feet.
Usually Cook would’ve cheered, using too much enthusiasm in order to keep his student’s spirit up. But between the heat of the sun, the heat of David’s back, and the heat building in other parts of his body, he could barely keep himself upright.
“Great job,” he choked, letting go of David’s hands and taking a step back. A distinct coolness struck the palms of his hands and chest.
“That… was all right,” David said, daring to glance at his teacher. Sweat had formed at his temple as well, dampening his bangs, which for some reason made Cook’s internal furnace ratchet up a notch.
“See? It’s fun,” Cook managed, struggling to keep his cool.
“Yeah,” David replied. He licked his lips and Cook briefly had to look away. David smiled and grabbed another arrow from his quiver, handing it to Cook.
“Let’s do it again.”
~*~
The days only grew hotter as August progressed, and even though David had visited Honduras on a few occasions with his family, he still wasn’t ready for the weather reaching the upper nineties. On the day it was rumored to break a hundred, David Cook mysteriously showed up along the lake, appearing out of nowhere like always.
“How come you’re always hanging out by the lake?” David asked, wiping his brow with his arm.
“How come you’re always hanging out by the lake?” Cook challenged, shielding his eyes from the sun. “Are you secretly a mermaid and have to keep near the water?”
David made a face, but smiled. “My cabin’s right over there,” he said, gesturing. “What’s your excuse?”
“I guess I just know where to find you,” Cook replied solemnly.
Something about the way Cook looked at him made David’s heart do a cartwheel. He’d been trying to keep his emotions in check the last few days, reminding himself that soon camp would be over and he’d probably never see Cook ever again. But it was so hard to push away, especially as Cook started showing up more frequently to spend time together.
Or at least, he supposed he could call it “spending time together.” That sounded an awful lot like dating, which was way beyond anything he could possibly even fathom at the moment. But it seemed Cook only wanted to spend time with him, as when David had suggested inviting Brooke or Jason along Cook made a scrunchy face that clearly meant no. (It was a cute scrunchy face though, so sometimes David still asked just so Cook would make the face.)
“You think there’s a pool around here somewhere?” Cook asked, still squinting against the sun.
“Uh,” David replied, glancing towards the water not twenty feet away from them. “The lake is right here?”
Cook’s eyes went wide and he stared at David for a long moment.
“I’m not swimming in the lake,” Cook replied.
“Why not?” David asked, genuinely confused.
“Oh no,” Cook replied, shaking his head. “That lake and I have a bad history.”
“What, don’t you know how to swim?” David asked, smirking.
“I know how to swim, David,” Cook said defensively. “But aren’t there like… like fish in there? Sharks? The Loch Ness monster?”
“You’re so weird,” David replied, smirking, though he himself had been wary of fish swimming by him earlier in the summer. By now he’d gotten used to it though and realized it wasn’t that big of a deal.
“Come on,” he added. “Go get your swim trunks from your cabin and meet me back here.”
“Uhhh,” Cook stammered, seemingly looking for an excuse. “My cabin is kind of a long way from here. Like far away. I’m not even sure I brought swim trunks anyway.”
“You didn’t bring swim trunks to camp!” David replied in surprise. “What? What are you even saying?”
“I didn’t exactly plan on going into the lake,” Cook mumbled.
“Oh for goodness sake,” David said, exasperated. “Come on, we’ll see if a pair of mine or Jason’s will fit you.”
Cook reluctantly followed along, dragging his feet the whole way. David wouldn’t have usually forced someone to do something he didn’t want to do, but this was just silly. Didn’t bring swimming trunks to camp. What kind of madness was this? And who didn’t like at least wading in the water on a scorching hot day? The sun must’ve been getting to Cook or something.
After a little searching, David found a second pair of shorts his mother had packed, one he knew was a little too big for him. But he also knew that she did this kind of thing sometimes, packing extra things in case someone else needed them. Sometimes David felt it was ridiculous, but again, his mother ended up being helpful to him without even being there. He handed Cook the extra pair and then they headed towards the nearby bathroom to change.
By the time they made it back, the sun had just begun to sink below the tops of the trees, a glowing orange piercing through their branches. Despite this, the air still hung with thick humidity, and David was more than happy to tread right into the lake water, happy for its cool relief.
“Come on in, the water’s fine,” David said to Cook, who had stopped short at the shoreline. He laughed as he added, “I’ve always wanted to say that.”
“I’m just gonna sit here on this rock and put my feet in,” Cook replied, moving towards a large boulder near the water’s edge. “Also, I feel ridiculous in these neon green shorts,” he added bitterly.
“No one will see your neon green shorts if you come in the water,” David coaxed as he continued into waist-deep water.
“Good Lord almighty,” Cook said as he poked a toe in the water. “It’s freezing! You’d think sitting under this sun all day it’d be warmer.”
“It’s not freezing!” David replied, water up to his chest now. “It’s perfect.”
“You go ahead,” Cook replied. “Look, there’s no lifeguard on this beach. I gotta keep an eye out for you.”
David rolled his eyes before letting his body sink into the water, pulling his head completely underneath with him. The rush of cold water instantly refreshed him from top to bottom, and he could almost feel the sticky heat peeling away. Kicking out, he swam under the surface for a moment until he needed to take a breath, and was surprised when he finally came up for air to find he was so far from shore. He wondered if he could guess Cook’s worried thoughts since he’d seemingly been under for so long.
It amused David, however, that the rough and tumble rock star found his weakness at the water’s edge. Sure, there were legitimate reasons to be afraid of bodies of water; drowning was no laughing matter. But Cook wouldn’t even step in, get his feet wet. He’d said he knew how to swim, so what was the real problem?
As David made a few laps back and forth he thought about how he could get Cook into the water. It seemed like convincing him with words wasn’t going to work, so he’d have to try something else. He’d have to convince him with action.
Kicking out from where he was, he headed back toward the shore only to find Cook had now draped the towel he’d brought over his shoulders like a cape.
“What are you doing?” David asked, again wading in waist-deep water. He swept his hand through his hair in order to direct water out of his eyes.
“It occurred to me I might burn,” Cook replied unconvincingly.
“You’re really bringing this whole afternoon down,” David said, trying to sound disappointed. Maybe a little guilt would get Cook to join him.
“You’re the one who insisted!” Cook said, waving a hand. “I mean, if you want to come sit here and hang out with me instead, that’s cool.”
David had had about enough. He thought about how much fun his brother and sisters had on hot summer days in Utah, swimming and splashing water at one another, his sisters screeching happily the entire time. His brother, Daniel, was the one who always started the water fights, finding great joy in chasing his sisters all around the back yard.
Which gave David an idea.
Without any kind of warning, David bent to scoop his hand into the water, cupping a good amount before flinging it out towards his sourpuss friend. A good amount of it landed across Cook’s knees, which caused him to look up with complete shock on his face. David couldn’t help the humongous grin on his face.
“What was that for?” Cook demanded, narrowing his brow.
But David didn’t answer. Words weren’t working in this situation, so he wasn’t going to use them. He bent again and scooped up an even bigger wave of water, which reached Cook’s upper thighs this time, and splattered his shoulders a bit.
“You’re getting my towel wet!” Cook protested.
“Well, you’re not using it!” David reasoned as he started a pattern of splashes up towards the shore, each one bigger than the last. Cook finally threw off his towel, allowing it to tumble onto the rocks behind him.
“Damn it, David,” he grumbled, stomping towards the water. David’s plan was working perfectly. Now it was time to bring out the big guns.
David laughed as he positioned himself so as to use both of his hands together to create a veritable tsunami of water towards Cook, who had to shield his face to protect himself from flying water. A grin finally grew on the latter’s face as he waded out to where he could also reach the water and began splashing back.
“You’re in big trouble, mister,” Cook warned. David laughed hard enough that he lost his footing and nearly fell backwards into the lake.
Now waist-deep himself, Cook pushed through the water, sending up splashes the whole way. It soon became difficult to see through their watery crossfire, and David had to pause to rub water out of his eyes.
It turned out to be a fatal mistake.
Unexpectedly, Cook lunged forward, grabbing David by the shoulders. David opened his eyes long enough to see Cook grinning before he found himself being swiftly pushed back and under, barely able to close them again before his whole head was submerged. For one brief second David panicked as anyone would when taken by surprise, but Cook’s hands were quickly off of him allowing him to recover easily.
Flailing, it took David longer than expected to right himself, and as soon as his ears came above water he could hear Cook cackling from the safety of shallow water.
“So you push someone down and then run away, huh?” David asked, spitting lake water out of his mouth. “Afraid of me, are you?”
Cook just continued laughing as David swam back to where he could touch and wade back towards his attacker.
“I dare you to come after me,” Cook taunted, which sounded like he didn’t think David would do it. But Cook hadn’t been in an Archuleta family water fight before either.
Deftly wading through the water, David grabbed Cook by the wrist, something that seemed to surprise him to say the least. Tugging as hard as he could, David tried to pull Cook off his balance, doing his best to swing him around into the deeper water. Because Cook weighed more than him it took a lot of effort, but it was for the same reason that Cook came splashing down into the water, arms helicoptering the whole way.
The maneuver had caused David to fall off balance as well, but he managed not to go under at least. When Cook finally made it up for air David burst into laughter at his companion’s soaked hair sticking to his face, water dripping from his beard.
“That wasn’t very nice!” Cook bellowed, combing his fingers through his hair. “A fish touched my face!”
“Oh sure,” David replied, still laughing as he settled into shallow enough water for sitting. “When I do it it’s not very nice. Come here and get your towel, you big baby,” David kidded. “Before you melt away or whatever.”
Cook gave David an evil eye as he passed him, kicking up a splash of water with his foot on the way. David merely laughed as he wiped away the drops from his cheek. He watched as Cook retrieved his towel and immediately started rubbing it against his head.
“You know what?” Cook asked, still wringing water out of his hair. David couldn’t help thinking he looked awfully cute with his hair sticking up weirdly everywhere. “I don’t think I’ve had this much fun in ages.”
“Well, good,” David replied, genuinely pleased. He didn’t think he had either, really, not since he’d gotten to camp at least. “Sorry for getting you all wet,” he added.
“Yeah, well, don’t think revenge isn’t already brewing,” Cook joked. “But I guess it did cool me off, so… I’m not saying thank you, but…”
“You’re welcome,” David said, getting up out of the water. “Now stop hogging the towel.”
~*~
The final weeks leading up to Final Jam were nothing short of chaotic. Cook tried to visit David a couple more times, but soon got swept up in preparations and judge-related duties, as he and Michael had been selected to represent Camp Star. It was getting harder to explain to David why he couldn’t see him every single day, but luckily saying that he was busy with Final Jam business both satisfied David and wasn’t even a lie.
On the day of the competition, Cook and Michael were ordered to stay in their cabin until show time, because as judges they were meant to be unbiased and couldn’t be influenced by those practicing in the auditorium all day. This was ridiculous, of course. Even the most honest judge would at least be familiar with the people from his respective camp and potentially favor them a little. Outside judges would’ve been more accurate, but whatever. Cook got to sleep in and play cards with Michael all day so he almost didn’t care.
The competition was set for the mid-afternoon, so after a long lunch Cook was finally allowed to wander over to the auditorium and start getting settled in. Packs of spectators had already started filing in, eager to get good seats. The Camp Star auditorium had been chosen because it was bigger, but as Cook pushed his way through to go check in, he sure seemed to pass a lot more people with Camp Rock t-shirts on.
After getting his instructions and judging criteria, Cook headed on in. He was one of the few people who would actually have an assigned seat, but he sort of wanted to get in before it became more of a madhouse than it already was. Besides, he didn’t feel like hanging out in the lobby in a sea of overenthusiastic Camp Rock campers.
Cook made his way up to the judges’ table, clipboard of scoring sheets in hand. Michael hadn’t arrived yet, but the two Camp Rock judges were just finding their seats. Paper place cards had been put at each of the four seats and Cook could see that his was second from the left.
“Oh, Jesus, do I really have to sit next to you?” the girl with dark brown hair was saying to her Camp Rock companion just as Cook was approaching. “Are these seats permanent?”
“Trust me, I already asked,” the latter replied, eyes squinting. “The Emcee’s already got the script to introduce us in a certain order. So deal with it.”
Cook put his clipboard down and glared at the two. “Geez, if this is how people on the same side treat one another, I’m afraid to sit down.”
“He and I will never be on the same side,” the girl replied, putting her things down as well. “I already like you more than him and I don’t even know you. I’m Carly, by the way.”
Carly put out her hand and Cook took it briefly. “David Cook.”
Carly paused, staring at him. A half-second later the other judge -- Nick, according to his place card -- shot a look around Carly’s shoulder.
“Oh, wow,” Carly said, letting go of Cook’s hand. “Uh, no offense, but you’ve kind of been a total jerk on the news lately.”
“Please don’t remind me,” Cook sighed. “I’m fully aware of my stupidity by now.”
“Well, it’s not that surprising, Carly,” Nick piped up from behind her. “You know what kind of self-important people Camp Star produces.”
Cook started to say “What’s that supposed to mean?” but Carly cut him off.
“Oh, look who’s talking,” she said bitingly. “Just because you couldn’t get in.”
“Can we just sit?” Nick asked.
Cook took his seat and began reviewing the score cards, all the while trying not to care about the two Camp Rockers next to him. Each of the forms had been partially pre-filled with the contestant’s name and other vital information such as what instrument he or she played or what type of music they were going to play. Cook found this to be a smart idea; he didn’t know about anyone else but there was no way he was going to be able to keep up with all that on his own.
Michael finally arrived, taking his place next to Cook.
“What’d I miss?” he asked automatically.
“Nothing, of course,” Cook replied, giving his friend a look. “It hasn’t started.”
“Hey, Camp Star,” Nick called from the other end of the table. “You ready to get beat?”
“Ha!” Michael retorted, leaning so he could see around Cook. “Just like last time? Because I’m pretty sure you got absolutely creamed, Rockers.”
The lights started to fade and the audience briefly went on a screaming frenzy before settling down as Aunt Paula came to take center stage.
“Welcome everyone,” she announced over some fringe noises. “We’re happy to have all of you here today for this very special edition of Final Jam. I just want to take a quick moment to introduce our judges tonight; veterans from both camps, Nick Jonas, Carly Smithson, David Cook, and Michael Johns. We’ve got a lot of talent waiting for you, so let’s get started!” she added with a fist pump.
Her last sentence and Michael’s name were both lost in the screaming and commotion that resulted in Cook’s name being announced, which only seemed to amuse Michael rather than annoy him. Nick glared at him from down the table, and Cook just wanted to melt under the table. For once in his life he wanted no attention whatsoever.
The show got underway and the talent had its ups and downs, but overall not too bad. Cook was overly thankful because in all of Michael’s excitement of being a judge, Cook forgot just how terrible the job might actually be. After more than an hour and a half of electric guitars, drum solos, and even glockenspiels, Aunt Paula returned to the stage as she had several times while equipment was being set up for the next contestant.
“All right, everyone,” Aunt Paula announced to the crowd. “We’ve seen a lot of amazing performances tonight already. I don’t envy the judges who have to choose from this wonderful selection. You’re all winners.”
Nick huffed audibly from his end of the table as he continued to scribble notes about the last performer.
“We’ve got one last treat for you, however,” Paula finished, beginning to gesture towards the piano being pushed back onstage. “Our last contestant from Camp Rock, David Archuleta.”
As they had done for every other introduction, the audience clapped politely as the named contestant made his way across the stage and took his place at the piano. Cook couldn’t help notice Nick looking up suddenly and stop writing mid-sentence.
Cook flipped to the last page, where “David Archuleta” had already been printed at the top. “Piano” had been indicated in the “discipline” field as well. Cook looked up just in time to see David -- his David -- crossing the stage.
It occurred to him in that moment that he’d never learned David’s last name. In fact, in the short amount of time they’d managed to spend together neither one of them had talked about music too much. Odd, since obviously both of them were at music camps at the same time.
On top of that, Cook’s theory about bias amongst judges had just gotten a wrench thrown into it; because he was definitely favoring this Camp Rock contestant already.
As the crowd quieted and the lights faded, David started to play, a little tentatively at first. Cook could tell he was extremely nervous, which usually he might mark down a point under the belief that performers needed to be confident in their skills. But Cook forgot about this quickly as power grew in the notes echoing across Camp Star’s auditorium. David soon dove into an upbeat pop song with a technical ability that Cook absolutely did not expect, not only from Camp Rock but from anyone. He’d be hard pressed to think even Andy could keep up with this kid. He stared wordlessly down at the stage, his pen not even touching the page.
And then David began to sing.
Cook thought for sure that his eyes might be about to pop right out of his cranium as about a million different beams of information struck him all at once. “Voice” had not been marked on his score sheet as it usually would have been alongside the instrument. Why on earth not, he couldn’t begin to imagine. Said voice didn’t seem like it even belonged to the slender, dark-haired, nerves-shaken performer. And the more words that washed over him, the more Cook realized what he was hearing.
This was The Voice he’d been hearing inside his head for weeks.
His pen officially fell on the floor at that point, and Carly glanced over at him smirking. Sure, she probably already knew David Archuleta had an amazing voice. David Archuleta was probably some glorified prince over in Camp Rock land. As for Nick, his expression was hard to read, somewhere between amazement and pride.
By the time the song finished, the entire judges’ panel was frozen in awe of this tiny little being pushing out that incredible voice and piano skill. The audience exploded. David Archuleta, just moments before filled with musical energy, now held back, a polite smile on his face, looking about as humble as any human had ever been.
“Mate,” Michael said from Cook’s left. “Dude.”
“I know,” Cook replied, still staring towards the stage. “I…”
Aunt Paula had returned to the stage yet again, struggling to calm the audience and reminding everyone that it was now time to be patient as the judges made their final calculations. Cook stood up in his spot, striving to catch a last glimpse of the person he’d been dying to meet all summer long. The person he’d actually known all along.
“Oy, your pen rolled over here,” Michael announced, bending to pick it up at his feet. He held it out in Cook’s direction, but Cook couldn’t have cared less about a stupid pen at the moment. In a sudden return to his rebel self, he jumped over the table, leaving a wake of scattered papers all over the floor.
“Hey!” both Michael and Carly said together.
But Cook was already gone, having dropped down from the elevated platform where their table stood to the masses of chatting audience members below. The aisles had filled in the impatience and boredom of waiting, and Cook had to fight against the crowd in order to make it to the front of the auditorium.
“Davey, what on earth are you doing?”
Aunt Paula’s voice rang in Cook’s ear as he climbed straight up the front of the stage instead of going around to the side steps.
“Where did he go?” he demanded, not caring if he made any sense. He knew he didn’t make any sense. None of this made any sense. David Archuleta made no sense whatsoever.
“Davey, you’re supposed to be finishing your scores,” Aunt Paula said with concern. “David!”
She shouted after him as he darted to stage left, knowing he had a fifty-fifty chance of catching up with David. He just hoped the contestants hadn’t been herded downstairs in the meantime.
It seemed he was in luck, because just as he ducked behind one of the stage curtains, he nearly ran face-first into David Archuleta.
“You!” he exclaimed a little too loudly.
“I… hello? What are you doing down here? Also, you never told me you were a judge!” David was understandably confused.
“You’re the voice,” Cook said, grabbing David by the shoulders.
“Pardon?”
“You’re the voice I hear inside my head!” Cook declared, pretty happy with himself. “It was you all along!”
“I’m sorry,” David apologized. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“David,” Cook said desperately, pulling David to the side. “When I showed up at Camp Rock that day saying I was looking for the voice class, I was really trying to track down someone I’d heard singing in the forest the day before. I’m not from Camp Rock, I’m from Camp Star. But I’ve been looking for… for you all summer!”
David’s eyes went wide and Cook immediately knew that he’d been right.
“It was you!” Cook said, almost accusingly. “You’re the voice. But I never even thought about finding out if anyone not in voice class could sing.”
“Wait, did you say you’re from Camp Star?” he asked, sounding slightly hurt. It took Cook a moment to figure out why, but of course in all his tunnel vision he hadn’t anticipated this bit at all.
“Um, yes,” Cook replied sheepishly, rubbing his neck. “I’m… I’m sorry. It’s just that, like I said, I snuck over there on a mission and ended up gradually getting to know you better and the more time went on the more awkward it seemed to tell you…”
“So this is a good time then?” David asked, obviously sore. Cook felt terrible. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go at all, not that he’d even planned it anyway.
“David, I’m sorry,” Cook repeated. He had no idea what else to say. “I’m just an idiot. Idiot is my middle name, ask anyone here.”
“Oh, is that so?” David asked, brow raising.
“Well, no, it’s actually Roland, but that’s beside the point.” Cook paused a second, narrowing his eyes. “Also, don’t tell anyone that.”
David sort of snickered, which made Cook feel at least a little bit better.
“What’s more important is this,” Cook said with all seriousness. “I started out trying to find that voice because I hadn’t heard talent like that in ages. I wanted to get that person on my label, under my management.”
The smirk melted from David’s face, clearly shocked by such news.
“But then I’ve been hanging out with you over the last couple weeks,” Cook continued, becoming more and more aware of how restless everyone in the building was becoming. He knew he wouldn’t have much more time.
“You were so nice to me, even when I was kind of a jerk. For some reason you still agreed to hang out with me and put up with my crankiness and I just… I can’t explain it at all but I really like you, David. We’re complete and utter opposites but I’m so attracted to you and… and you’re the voice.”
David remained frozen, only able to sputter awkward word-like sounds that meant nothing at all. Deer-in-headlight syndrome had set in so Cook did the only thing he knew how to do: something extreme and crazy in order to shock him back to reality.
With bright lights burning up the house and chattering voices flooding his ears, Cook pushed forward, cupping David’s chin as he went in for a firm kiss that nearly sent David backwards into a wardrobe rack. After a moment of what seemed like absolute terror on his part, David relaxed ever so slightly into it, and Cook wanted nothing more than to savor those soft lips forever.
“Davey, there you are!”
Aunt Paula pulled back the scrap of curtain that hid them, only to be stunned into her own moment of frozen time. David’s cheeks instantly went scarlet and Cook couldn’t help laughing at the entire situation.
“Davey,” she said again after taking a breath. “I’m sorry to break up your moment, but we’re all waiting on you to fill out your scorecard for Mr. Archuleta.”
As she said it she waved the unfinished form in his face, and Cook grabbed it and the pen she offered as well.
“As if this is even necessary,” Cook commented impatiently as he drew one large circle down the side of the sheet, encapsulating every single 10 possible. “Here, calculate that!”
Paula raised her brow at the paper being thrust back at her, then a smile appeared on her lips.
“Okay, then,” she said happily. “I think we know our winner.”
~*~
David couldn’t believe he’d actually won Final Jam. He almost hadn’t even entered, but Nick had insisted. He did worry a little bit about Cook’s biased scoring, but Cook had told him to stop thinking about things so deeply because they were trying to celebrate. (Both camps had merged for a campfire celebration afterward.)
Since camp was officially over, there was nothing left to do in the morning except have breakfast and wait for parents to pick up campers. Hardly anyone ate anything as they all exchanged phone numbers and promises to become friends on Facebook. And of course they would all be at Camp Rock again next year.
David was still waiting in the grand meeting hall with all of his stuff long after Carly, Brooke, and everyone else had left. He was pretty sure his mom would be sort of late since he had probably traveled the furthest out of everyone, by car anyway. It was okay though because it gave him time to think about the summer he’d just had; how crazy, confusing, and fun it had been. He’d made marked improvements in a lot of areas, even in those he never expected. And he’d won an award -- he still had to process that. His mom would surely flip when she saw it. Besides all that, he’d kind of gotten a boyfriend? He didn’t really know if Cook was his boyfriend since no one had said as much, and they’d not had too much alone time since Final Jam to talk privately since everyone under the sun kept coming up to congratulate him on his win.
“Hey, you’re still here.”
David looked up to find Nick walking towards him, guitar case in one hand. He’d forgotten that Nick actually played about a million different instruments.
“Yeah,” David replied solemnly. “My mom’s coming from a long way away.”
Nick took a seat next to him and laid his guitar on the floor.
“You miss it already, don’t you?” Nick observed. His eyes were scanning the room instead of looking at David.
“Yeah,” David replied. “How did you know?”
Nick flashed that smile David remembered from weeks ago, chuckling a little.
“Because it happens to everyone,” Nick said honestly. “Because I feel the same way right now.”
David looked up at Nick with surprise. “What? But haven’t you been coming here since you were like six?”
“Yeah,” Nick confirmed, finally glancing over at David. “It never goes away.”
The two sat silently for a moment, the hall now completely empty except for them.
“I, uh, wanted to say I’m sorry,” Nick said, looking down at his hands. “For dragging you into the middle of drama.”
“It’s not your fault,” David said.
“It kind of is,” Nick replied. “I might’ve started it by talking to you on the first day of camp. That kind of was just to piss Carly off.”
“Oh,” David said quietly, a little surprised.
“I mean, I can actually be a jerk sometimes,” Nick admitted. “And self-centered. It’s why I don’t actually have many friends outside of my brothers. I know it’s something I have to work on.”
“It’s okay,” David replied, glad that Nick could recognize his own faults.
“It’s not,” Nick said. “But I know what you mean.”
Just then, Joe poked his head in the door, waving at Nick.
“C’mon, Nicky, Dad’s here!”
“Coming!” Nick answered. Joe disappeared back outside.
“You didn’t yell at him for calling you Nicky,” David observed.
“Yeah, well,” Nick said. “I’m turning over a new leaf.”
For some unknown reason, Nick’s answer seemed absolutely hilarious and the two of them burst into laughter.
“Why is that funny?” Nick asked, rubbing his eyes.
“I have no idea,” David admitted, but it suddenly reminded him of home. The Archuletas were always cracking up for no reason whatsoever.
“See you next summer?” Nick asked. “I hope?”
“Be there or be square,” David answered. He had a feeling only squares ever actually said that.
“I’m always here,” Nick assured him. “I’ll look for you on Facebook or whatever. I’d better go, Joe’s making faces at the window.”
David tried to muffle his snickering, but failed miserably.
“Okay, moron, I’m coming!” Nick shouted as he pushed through the door.
David was only alone for a second before he was surprised by a pair of hands coming over his eyes from behind.
“Guess who?” said a now-all-too-familiar voice in his ear.
“Cook! You scared me!” David yelped. “What’re you doing here?”
“Pfft, Andy and Neal won’t come to get me until the last possible moment, if I know them. After dark, probably. Neal will think that’s the funniest thing on earth. He better be nice, I made him a birdhouse.” He paused. “Okay, so I bought it off a kid five minutes ago.”
He held up a shoddily handmade birdhouse painted in bright neon colors.
David shook his head in disbelief. “You have weird friends, David Cook.”
“Yeah, but they’re mine,” Cook said, smiling like a proud mama. “Hey, I’ve got something for you too.”
“What?” David asked. “You shouldn’t h--”
“Don’t get too excited,” Cook warned, reaching into his jacket pocket. A second later he was pulling out a long bit of blue-gray fabric that seemed awfully familiar.
“My scarf!” David exclaimed, grabbing it out of Cook’s hands. “I thought I lost it!”
“You did,” Cook told him, beaming like an idiot. “In the forest that day.”
“You found it?”
“It was my only clue,” Cook replied. “Not that it did me any good in the end. Stupid scarf.”
“Hey!” David protested, pulling it around his neck. “I love this scarf.”
“Fashionable scarves are so not rock and roll,” Cook teased. He tugged gently on the light fabric until David’s mouth met his in a short kiss. “But you make it work.”
“I’m gonna miss you,” David said solemnly, sadness quickly overcoming him. “I don’t want to wait until next summer to see you again. What if you forget about me?”
Cook scrunched his face as if he’d never heard anything so ridiculous in his life.
“Uh, David, we live in the twenty-first century. With cell phones and Skype and e-mail?”
“Oh, I don’t really use the Internet too often,” David admitted, which was basically true. He liked being outdoors and stuff a whole lot more than playing with electronics all the time.
“Well, you’re gonna learn,” Cook said warningly. “You ever heard of Snapchat?”
“I think my sister has that?” David answered, unsure.
“Yeah, well, don’t be showing her any snaps I send you from the road,” Cook said with a glint in his eye.
“What?” David asked innocently.
“Nevermind,” Cook replied, still grinning. “What time’s your mom coming?”
“I have no idea,” David admitted. “She’s coming a long way. Could be awhile, I guess.”
“You wanna go canoeing with me until then?”
David gave Cook a sideways glance. “Do you even know how to work one of those things?”
“How dare you, sir,” Cook said, feigning insult. “Of course I do. If you don’t count that one time I capsized a canoe when I was twelve.”
“Well, you’ve really sold me on this idea,” David replied sarcastically. “Lead the way.”
“I’ll lead you anywhere, David Archuleta.”
~*~
FIN