Push - Chapter Six
Title: Push
Fandom: Camp Rock
Genre: Alternate Universe Drama/Literary Fiction
Rating: PG-13, maybe higher (for language, implied violence and intense/possibly scary situations)
Information: Most performers can’t fathom not performing, no matter what demons may stand in their way. Sometimes they just need a little push.
PREVIOUS CHAPTER: http://leftygirl02.livejournal.com/177988.html#cutid1
[Note: Thank you Tara for pointing out the lack of Nate. I agree that it helps the flow a bit; hope you like it.]
“No way! I’m not going in there.” Shane announced once he and Brown reached their destination. He stopped dead in his tracks. The camp kitchen? Was Brown serious?
“Oh, but you are,” Brown continued pushing him forward. “I’ve made the arrangements with Connie. You’re on kitchen duty for the rest of the day.”
“Joy.”
“And depending on the report I get, maybe longer.” Brown continued. “And you’re going to be respectful and do exactly what you’re told while you’re in there. Understand?”
Shane rolled his eyes. In a high-pitched voice feigning excitement he asked, “And then do I get to eat ice cream and go to the park to play like all the other good little children?”
“Alright, that’s it.” Brown stopped at the base of the stairway and pulled Shane so his back was against the wall. His eyes burrowed into Shane’s as he spoke. “You listen to me. Your behavior here has been exactly why the record label is this-close to dropping you. And I won’t tolerate it, not even in the slightest. Throw your best diva-attitude tantrums all you want. They may work with others, but not me. You’re staying here no matter how much you kick and scream along the way.”
Shane snorted and crossed his arms. If Brown thought he could actually intimidate him…. “I thought this was a summer camp, not a psych ward.”
“What happened to you, Shane?” Brown suddenly opened up in that caring way that made Shane want to puke. “Why are you acting this way? That kid I’ve seen on tv lately; that’s not really you.”
“Funny,” Shane retorted.”Because we look really similar.”
“I mean in there.” Brown forcefully tapped Shane’s chest just above his heart. “What happened to my nephew? What happened to the kid who just loved making music?”
Shane spread his arms wide. “Hate to burst your bubble, but this is him. This is Shane Gray. This is me, and if that’s not good enough for you-“
“This isn’t you, Shane. That’s what I’m saying.”
“And just how would you know?” Shane spat. He pulled himself free of the wall and Brown. “You haven’t been around the last eleven years.”
“Hey!” Brown spun him around so fast his vision blurred a few moments. Shane attempted to pull away again yet Brown just gripped his arm tighter. “I’ll admit I haven’t always done all the right things or said the right things when it came to you boys. But I’m here now. I loved your parents, and I love you boys, too. Blood or not, you’re family. And I care too dam much to see you destroy yourself now.”
So that was it; he was only… Shane narrowed his eyes as he finally broke free of the grip. He glared at Brown, mirroring the intensity he was receiving from the older gentleman. The stillness was only broken by the far-off voices of campers and the sound of music being played in various places.
After a minute or so Brown sighed, finally defeated. Inwardly Shane relaxed. Brown opened the door to the kitchen and nudged Shane inside before he walked inside himself. A woman was inside preparing hamburger meat for something. Next to her was a girl Shane faintly recognized.
“Hello, Connie,” Brown called. Shane felt ready to gag. “Shane, this is our cook, Ms Connie -“
“Connie will do.” Connie smiled as she reached out a gloved hand towards Shane. She quickly pulled it back again upon realizing there was stuff on it. “Sorry. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you.”
Shane nodded a response.
“And this is Connie’s daughter-“ Brown faltered in producing the name.
“Jake,” she replied glumly. Shane perked an eyebrow out of curiosity when the girl shot him a look of disdain. Interesting, considering he really had no idea who she was.
#
“I remember you,” Jake stopped squirting whipped topping on the pudding cups long enough to glance Shane’s way. It had been a good half hour since he and Brown first entered the kitchen, yet these were the first words either had spoken to one another. “You’re the girl who brought my dinner last night.”
“Wow, I’m glad you remember,” she replied sullenly. It had taken him this long to notice that? Damn Mitchie and her being the one to get out of kitchen duty for the day. Jake knew it was only fair, considering working there was the only reason she was there while Mitchie was an enrolled camper, yet the decision still annoyed her.
Course, she should have known. Mitchie had told her all about Shane Gray’s failed appearance at dance class that morning. It should have been obvious that by ‘volunteer’ her mother had meant ‘someone being punished with kitchen duty’.
Shane shrugged. “I only remember because it was soggy.”
Jake nearly dropped the whipped topping in her hand. Tightening her grip only resulted in a very crappy-looking dessert. She sighed and attempted to fix it. “Well… it’s was only soggy because someone took their time getting to the door.”
“Touché,” he smiled at her then as if he were winning the conversation. His hazel eyes reflected a look which she annoyingly couldn’t decipher. “Although, perhaps next time you could knock a little louder.”
Jake put aside the mangled mess of a cup and got to work on the next one. She nearly groaned at him, yet stopped herself. Why was she letting him get to her? He was just a stupid… punk. Or something. The two worked in silence a few moments until her curiosity got the better of her. “Why are you even here if you obviously don’t want to be? Get a DUI or something?”
More silence followed. Then, just as she thought the conversation was a failed attempt he said, “So my food won’t be soggy this time.”
Jake snorted. “That’s the best you can come up with?”
“Maybe.”
“I meant here at camp,” she explained after another silence. “Why bother coming here to teach a class if you’re just going to miss it all the time?”
“Heaven forbid I miss out on a summer of Camp Rock.” He uttered the final two words as if they were taboo.
“You’re a jerk.”
“Original.” She knew what was coming, yet still it made her groan. “That’s the best you can come up with?”
“No, but I thought maybe you’d actually understand that word as opposed to something like ‘pompous ass’.”
“Now that’s not nice; we don’t even know each other.”
It was going to be a long day.
#
“Thanks, Uncle Brown. I really appreciate this,” Nate said, letting out a relieved breath.
“No problem, my man.” His mom’s friend reached over to ruffle the young man’s hair. “You said it yourself; you just want to lay low for a little while. Nothing wrong with that.”
Nate nodded, thankful for and just a little surprised of Brown’s understanding towards his dilemma. He had gone to Brown’s cabin with the intention of asking his presence not be revealed. With Brown leading some of the classes and perhaps being as chatty as Nate could remember, the risk was there of it slipping how not one but two of the young men he considered like nephews being present. Deep down he knew he couldn't hide from the world forever, yet he did want it to happen on his own terms. Nate playfully swiped Brown's hand off his head and the latter smiled.
“Well then, we good?”
Nate nodded. That’s when Nate caught sight of the array of photographs along one wall of the cabin. Despite having been there for almost an hour, he had just noticed them. He got out of his chair to take a closer look. Several were shots of Brown among various performers. Nate recognized the members of the Wet Crows right away. The same went for some of the others, although the rest weren’t familiar at all. Then from the corner of his eye he spotted it; the photo of Brown smiling while standing, his arm around a young woman with soft green eyes and dark curls framing her face.
“Our one tour together,” Brown recalled fondly. Nate smiled faintly. “She was just a part of the opening act, but a lot of people, including myself, thought she could really have made a name for herself if given a chance. Course that was before… well, you know.”
Nate nodded; he had heard this story more than once. As usual, this didn’t stop Brown from continuing.
“She knew her priorities, that’s for sure, and she let nothing get in the way of them.”
Nate looked back down away from the wall of pictures. Beneath was a short book shelf. There among the small collection of books he found a few various snapshots, these smaller than those on the wall, yet all still framed. In none did Brown appear, but rather a trio of dark-haired boys. In one they were at the beach, the youngest being held up by one of his older brothers while the third stood behind, all laughing. Another featured them, all no older than eight, sitting on a porch wearing costumes and holding pumpkin shaped pails. In a third they stood in front of a window, arms draped over each other.
The last photo, the one on the middle shelf, was the one he grabbed. In it were the same boys, the youngest no older than six, the oldest around eleven. All were wearing pajamas, and a lighted Christmas tree stood behind them. The same dark-haired woman was in the photo with them, holding the middle boy on her lap. Leaned in among them sat a man, dark eyes laughing behind glasses.
Brown watched Nate quietly a moment before speaking. “She adored you boys. She and your dad both did.”
Nate swallowed. A strange mixture of faded memory and disassociation filled him. Pictures like these always did that. This day, the one in this photo… he had no memory of it at all. The tiny boy in the red footie pajamas, thrilled smile draped over his face, may as well have been a stranger. He scanned the photo again, willing his memory to spark something; anything. It did not comply.
Nate tilted the picture back, allowing the sun to blur the image out of sight. His reflection stared back at him; ringlet-filled hair, dark eyes. He tilted the picture forward again, allowing his focus to land back on his mother’s smiling face.
“You do take after her,” Brown commented. It was an observation Nate had heard most of his life, and it was true. He’d be crazy not to see it, and yet the way the sentiment was often said, and the tone; it left him unsettled.
Before he could say anything, another image, this one not from the photograph, flashed through his mind. It happened so fast, yet was as vivid as everything which was in front of him now. The feel of polished wood brushing against his face… a strange metallic smell… a horrible, echoing cry… He shook his head hard, willing it all away. Unfortunately, in doing so he also lost his hold of the frame. It went crashing to the floor face down, the glass making a crunching sound as it did.
“Whoa, mate.” A concerned look was etched on Brown’s face. “You alright?”
“S-sorry,” Nate stuttered back. As quickly as he could, he bent down and began picking up few chards of former picture glass.
“It’s alright.” Brown handed over the trash can, where Nate deposited what he had collected. “You sure you’re okay, though?”
“Yeah; I’m fine.”
“Alright.”
Nate set the now-useless picture frame on Brown’s desk then stood again. “Really, I’ll pay for that.”
Brown waved his hand, indicating the offer wasn’t necessary to him.
“Okay.” Nate made his way to the door.
"Take care then. Catch ya later?" Brown said.
"Of course." He waved goodbye, then headed outside and towards his own cabin. He arrived to find no one there. Odd; Shane should have returned by now. No wait, Brown had told him that Shane was now on kitchen duty due to what Brown had called ‘his stupid childish antics’.
The growling of his stomach reminded Nate that it was almost lunch time, and that he had missed breakfast. Great; now they both would suffer due to Shane’s stupidity. Nate bit his lip while thinking over his options. He could always sneak to the kitchen and get some food. He wouldn’t even have to talk to any of the staff since Shane was there…
#
“Here, oh-holy-one,” Jake tied the plastic portion of the black bag she was holding and set it down next to Shane. “You can take out the garbage.”
“Yay.” Shane feigned joy while he took the bag distastefully between his fingers. “You know, I was just thinking how my day wasn’t complete without just this; a lovely bag of kitchen trash.”
“Yes, because I’m sure your day has just been so tragic thus far.” Jake opened a drawer to find a new bag for the pail. “You had to get up just in time for your class, and then spend the time finding somewhere to sleep, and now you get to spend your day here. Poor, poor you.”
To her disdain, he just grinned in that oh-so-annoying way. “Glad you agree.”
“You know,” Jake fixed the trash bag so it fit correctly. “All the effort you put in that, you could have just gone to class.”
“I could have.”
“Those kids signed up for a class with you, you know.”
“Yep.”
“And you let them down.”
“Aw, see, why spend the time with them when I now get to spend my day with you?”
Jake’s face burned. Mitchie didn’t just owe her one…
#
Trash bag in hand, Shane pushed open the door and began making his way down the stairs. Now what? He glanced around to see if anyone was coming. A girl was passing by at that moment, only a few feet away from the door. It was then that an idea hit him.
“Hey. What’s your name?” he called to her.
The girl spun around, glancing over both shoulders as if expecting him to be addressing someone else. Her eyes then became wide. She almost came running; perfect. “Um… I’m Chelsea. Oh my God, it’s really you! Oh wow; I…”
Shane shuddered inwardly as she rambled on a few moments. Through it all he kept the smile on his face. He took the pen she had offered to him for signing her bag… or maybe her arm. He hadn’t really been listening to be sure which. “I don’t suppose you could help me with something, Chelsea?”
It didn’t seem possible, yet her eyes became even wider. “Anything!”
“Well you see there’s this bag of trash here which needs to be taken to the main bins, but I’m not really going that direction…”
Chelsea’s face fell drastically as she eyed the bag. “Oh, well, I’m not really going that way, either…”
Shane shrugged, holding out her pen to give it back. “Okay, sorry I asked.”
“Wait! I’ll do it.” She pulled back her hands as if scared he would stab her with it. “Sure I will. I mean, anything for you, right?”
“Right,” Shane agreed lowly as he took hold of the bag she was thrusting towards him. Quickly he signed it and handed back her pen. Chelsea took the bag of trash as she exploded into a fit of giggles and exclamations of how she was the luckiest girl alive. Shane shrugged and forced a wave as she left. It had been exactly the reaction and thing he had wanted, and yet somehow…
People are fickle, he reminded himself. No, not just fickle. People always wanted something and always wanted to take, too. Even the seemingly nice ones.
#
He was sitting at the small piano in the corner of the room when she entered the dining hall. No way. Jake’s eyes furrowed as he just sat there, a smug expression on his face.
“No need to thank me.” Jake could hear a soft scale across the piano which morphed into a melody as she put down all the condiments. “But, you’re welcome. All done.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What you do, throw it into some bushes or something?”
“Nope. I got help from a very nice young lady.”
Jake’s mouth slowly began to hang open as she approached the nearest window. She only looked for a moment, in shock as a young lady outside lugged away the black bag. What- honestly? Spinning around, Jake marched over to him and hissed, “You’re unbelievable.”
The melody from the piano became more complex as he said nothing.
“That girl… why did you make her do that?”
“I asked and she agreed. There was no forcing involved,” he answered nonchalantly.
“And you’re okay with that?”
“Yep.”
Jake clinched her fists as he continued playing. It annoyed her how he could give these cocky answers so casually as his fingers graced the keys in a way Jake would never admit to envying. Shouldn’t he be even remotely distracted? “You… you…”
“Watch it. You’ve already used ‘jerk’ and ‘pompous ass’,” he warned.
She nearly screamed. “Two words; pay, back.”
“Actually, that’s one word,” Shane replied cheerfully.
“Jake, honey, I need your help please!” her mother’s voice interrupted.
Thank God!, she thought before heading towards the kitchen door. A second thought crossed her mind, causing her to return to the piano. Grabbing the back of the stool Shane was sitting on, she yanked it upwards sending him spilling off to the floor, a complete look of surprise on his face. Satisfied, she turned to go again. Finally his stupid playing had stopped.
#
Um… ow? Shane pushed himself off the piano pedals and looked across the room in time to see the door swing closed. He pushed himself up to his feet again and grabbed the piano stool. Setting it upright, he then allowed his fingers to touch the ivory keys again. Maybe he could keep playing, show her that he wouldn’t let her push him around. The thought faltered; he couldn’t remember what he had been playing before being disrupted. For all he knew she wouldn’t be within earshot anymore. It wasn’t as much fun when he was alone.
Besides, he had already won. She seemed nice and all, but he could never be sure. At first they all seemed nice. Then the truth came. The only way to see what she was really like was to take all the pleasantries out of the equation. Strip away all the fake sentiment and concern. Then he could know for sure.
And what he knew was that this Jake girl intrigued him. She wasn’t like the other girls of this camp who clawed at him. She didn’t worship him or watch his every move admirably; if anything, she seemed to have almost resented him from the beginning. He liked that. This Jake girl had spunk in her.
Not that it really mattered or anything.
.