Welcome to Camp Pop. If you are a real hardcore Camp Rock fan then do not read this fic. Walk away now.
If, like me, you watched it because it's kind of addictive and it very entertaining and useful for making jokes involving magic guitars, singing solos in harmony and the breathing of helium, read on.
Full blurb here because it didn't fit:
Camp Rock: A parody. Finding where the film wasn't quite realistic (Magic, cord-less guitars?) and giving an explanation: Magic helium.
Set the year after the film and Shane has dragged the rest of Connect 3 out to Camp as instructors. A fact which isn't making Nate happy since he's having enough problems with nerves as it is. Perhaps all he needs is a little magic and Caitlin Geller, breather of magic helium could be the girl of his dreams. If he can stop sulking long enough to find her.
"I don't see why we all had to come," Nate pointed out, watching Shane leaning his head against the window as though he couldn't wait for them to arrive. "I mean, your uncle had you doing hip-hop dance classes last year. I don't dance. No way."
Shane turned from the window for the first time and turned to Nate, a bright smile on his lips. "Hey, man," he replied innocently. "We used to love this place. This is where Connect 3, connected."
Nate fought the urge to grind his teeth as Jason looked up. "Hey, that's right," he said, as though he'd completely forgotten Shane was only repeating what he'd said the year before. "Isn't that right, Nate?"
"Plus," Shane continued, fixing Nate with that 'payback' grin. "You get to see my uncle Brown."
"Your uncle Brown's a psycho!" Nate shouted angrily. "And he treats me like I'm all of three years old."
"Look, Nate." Shane leant forwards to regard Nate seriously. "Right now you're the weirdo to the press. That's three gigs you've totally psyched out on not even counting the time you leapt off the stage and broke your nose."
"I was trying to crowdsurf," Nate muttered, looking away uncomfortably.
"Nate, the stage was three meters away from the crowd. The label has a problem with this which means, we have a problem with it."
"Actually," Jason started but stopped when Nate and Shane both turned to glare at him.
"The label doesn't care what I do," Nate said, turning back to Shane. "You're just dragging us out here because you want to see your girlfriend."
"Does it matter?" Shane leant back, leaning out the window again as they pulled up in the Camp which had been renamed Camp Pop after serious complaints the year before. "It's good PR, Nate, so do your time." He reached for the clasp of the door, his smile growing wider. "Enjoy the fresh air." Nate clenched his fists as Shane's smile grew wider. "Get a tan."
"I'm making a guitar/birdhouse combo," Jason informed them all, apparently able to completely ignore the testosterone levels in the car. "I'm going to call it... the Guiturd."
Shane was already getting up, pushing open the door. "One word," he said to Nate, his grin unquenchable. "Payback." Then he was out of the car and heading down the road, already calling the names of people he knew. Nate let out a snarl of annoyance, falling back against his seat.
"Or maybe the Birtar," Jason continued, oblivious to everything else. "Or the Guiturd House. Or the Bird Hotar. The Electric house of Bird."
"Jason," said Nate through gritted teeth, snatching Jason's acoustic guitar off the seat and twisting the dials until the strings were loose. "Bird," he said, raising one hand and making beak movements. He then pushed it through the strings and into the guitar. "Birdhouse. Just like magic."
"Wow." Jason took his guitar back reverently, pushing the strings to the side to see the hole more clearly. "Wow."
Nate let out a snarl of frustration and pushed open the car door, snatching his own guitar and climbing out onto the road behind. "Knock yourself out," he called back to Jason before turning away and surveying the camp. "Please," he added grimly.
"It's him! It's Nate Grey!"
Nate turning in time to see eight girls pointing and him and screaming at the top of their lungs. He glanced up the driveway quickly but Shane had already disappeared and inside the car Jason was still pushing his hand into his guitar then pulling it out in awe. Nate could just hear through the open door. "I had a birdhouse... all along!"
"Um," he managed, turning back to the girls who had managed to get a lot closer in the last few minutes. "Hi."
When Jason got out the car several minutes later and leant his guiturd house against a tree, whistling in case there were any birds around to go into it, he was distracted by a pile of flailing limbs where Nate had been a few minutes ago.
"Nate?" he called uncertainly. It looked rather like a pile of female bodies and kept shouting things like. 'I have his top!' 'Can I have your autograph?'
"Nate?" Jason called again, taking a step closer.
"Help me!" Jason looked down to see Nate pull himself partway out of the pile then be dragged back by hands with luridly painted nails. Jason crouched down, peering into the pile carefully. After a few moments he caught sight of his brother again.
"How?" he asked, while Nate's face was still in sight.
"Use your imagination!" The face disappeared against with a cry. Jason tilted his head to the side for a moment, regarding the pile thoughtfully.
Then he got up and went to find Shane. On the way, he got distracted by a large aquariam. "Wow," he said, watching a gold fish swimming backwards and forwards in front of him. "I want one of those."
He watched the fish for several more moments when something else occurred to him. "I want one of those inside my guiturd house. It would be like... like an aquiturd house... that would just be cool."
"Is there anything else," Nate asked in as loud a croak as his hoarse, exhausted voice would let him. "That you would like me to sign before I fall unconscious?"
The final hanger-on eyed him for a moment as though wondering how likely this was then shrugged. He had already signed her back, her front, her top , her trousers and narrowly avoided having to sign her underwear. What more could she ask for?
"I suppose not," she replied reluctantly. "Do you want to go for a canoe ride?"
"No." Nate replied firmly, limping past her and letting the marker pen fall out of his hand in the process. He ached all over. He had just spent at least an hour signing autographs for this group even after one of them had walked off with his top. He'd liked that top and now he was never going to see it again. He had bruises all over his body and his wrist was aching from scrawling his name on anything and everything. What was so good about him, anyway? Jason's damn guitar was still leaning against a tree where he'd left it, the strings pull back in case any bird was idiotic enough to mistake a guitar for a bird house. Nate kicked it over on his way past. Naturally, this would be the moment Jason returned, hours too late, followed by Shane and Mitchie who were talking and laughing like they'd met more than a grand total of once before.
"You kicked over my Guiturd house!" Jason shouted, running forwards to pick up the guitar and peer inside.
"On no," Nate replied coldly. "Now all the guiturds will have nowhere to live." He stalked past Jason who looked around, possibly surprised by the level of animosity.
"Why aren't you wearing a shirt?" Or possibly not... "I mean, I was thinking that it was kind of hot but not hot enough to take my shirt off yet."
"My shirt," Nate replied coldly, continuing to walk away. "Got stolen."
"Really? By who?"
Nate stopped, taking a deep breath before turning on his heel to glare daggers at Jason and wish fiercely that just for this moment looks could kill. "My shirt was stolen by the girls that you were supposed to be helping me get away from. Remember, big pile of people? Me underneath, asking you to help me."
For a moment Jason just stared at him uncomprehending, then something dawned. "Oh," he said loudly. "I remember! That was why I was going to find Shane. Then I got distracted by the aquarium. Hey, Nate, don't you think an Aquiturd House would be completely awesome? Shane doesn't think it can be done but Mitchie promised to help." Nate was already walking away, pushing roughly between Shane and Mitchie as he stalked over to the collection of buildings.
"Nate!" Shane called after him. "Nate, don't be like that."
Nate turned, raising two fingers in a gesture their mum would've scolded him greatly for using. "Two hours!" he shouted before turning back and continuing to storm away.
Shane watched his brother until Nate was out of sight then sighed. "He hasn't been the same lately," he said, mostly for Mitchie's benefit. "He got into songwriting in a big way after our finale last year and started a solo tour. There was some gig part-way through, Jason and I weren't there because we had to be at an interview, and something went wrong. The whole rest of the tour got cancelled and he hasn't been the same since."
"What happened?" Mitchie asked, looking over at where Nate had dissapeared.
"Dunno," Shane replied. "He won't talk about it. I was kind of hoping the camp would open him up a bit, maybe help him settle. I mean, it definately changed me."
They bother looked around to see Jason holding his guitar and peering into the hole thoughtfully. "Yes," Shane replied slowly.
"Do birds eat fish?"
He'd had to ask for directions three times. Three times! How big could one camp be? But eventually he'd reached the cabin where he'd be staying for the rest of the summer.
The cabin . God, there was no way around it, was there. He was on Camp. Living in a cabin in a field. He hadn't been on summer camp since he was, like, twelve. It had been one thing sending Shane here last year, he'd just assumed it was a one-off and would never happen again.
He pushed open the door and was confronted by another unwelcome surprise. He could distinctly remember Shane telling him that last year he'd had a private cabin. Private.
So why did Nate's cabin have two beds, and why did the second one have, of all people, Jason's stuff piled on top of it. "No," he said slowly even though the bright green guitar covered with stickers of Elmo and Big Bird from, of all things, Sesame Street was hard to ignore. "No. No way. I am not sharing a room with Jason."
"Sorry, Nate-Mate." Next thing Nate knew there was a hand ruffling through his hair. That meant this could only be one person. Only one person in the whole world could be more annoying than Jacob.
"Hello Uncle," he replied stiffly, ducking out from under his hand and turning to face him.
Was it possible that there was someone in this camp who wasn't smiling that stupid idiotic smile all the time? "Oh come on, Natey, haven't you got a hug your your Uncle Brownie?"
"Sorry," Nate replied coldly. "I used them all up on Aunty Flapjack." He walked over to the bed that didn't have Jason's things on it and tore open his suitcase, pushing aside plectrums, tuners and sheet music until he located clothing. He pushed through the clothes, trying to find something in a halfway decent colour.
"What happened to your top, Nate-Mate?" Uncle Brown continued with the endurance of... of something with a lot of endurance. Possibly Jason.
"Got stolen," Nate replied, trying to ignore the humiliating nicknames for the moment.
"You know, funnily enough what with all the leaping and tearing I didn't get her name." Nate eventually found a plain black t-shirt that would hopefully be harder to get off than a shirt with buttons. He pulled it over his head, wincing as it brushed against his soon-to-be bruises. "Next time, I'll get her details for you."
Okay, he was all out on the nickname enduring front. No one but Uncle Brown had called him anything other than 'Nate' since he turned ten. "Oh, and Uncle Brown, I had my sixteenth birthday last weekend."
"I sent a card..." he said in a tone that said 'have you finally lost your mind?'
"Yes. So you can stop treating me like a twelve year old." He wasn't sure where he was going he just knew he didn't want to be cooped up inside.
Except, outside was where the fangirls were and he'd already broken his nose once in his life. He crossed to Jason's bed and upended the other boy's bag, pushing through the toys, DVDs and games consoles until he found a bright blue hoodie for some band no one but Jason had ever heard of.
He pulled it on, carefully arranging the hood so it cast his face into shadow. "And why am I sharing a room with Jason anyway?" he demanded, spinning around at the door.
Uncle Brown just stared at him for a few moments then shook himself and regained some composure. "I... there weren't enough rooms, Nate-M... Nate. When we talked to Shane yesterday he said you'd be fine sharing."
"Shane." Nate kicked the door only to find that the catch had caught when Uncle Brown had entered so all this did was hurt his toe. Growling, he reached out and knocked the catch, pushing through the door with as much force as she could muster. "Everything's always about him."
The door slammed shut very satisfyingly behind him and he stormed off across the camp.
"Mitchie," Caitlin hissed from her hiding place behind a tree. "Mitchie."
Mitchie muttered something to Shane then moved away, watching until he'd dissapeared before circling the tree to stand in front of Caitlin. Who was crouched on the floor, occasionally glancing out to check no one was looking. "What's all this about?" Mitchie asked, crouching opposite her. "You weren't there when everyone was being dropped off, me and Shane were looking out for you."
"Shh," Caitlin hissed, waving her arms slightly. "This is secret, very secret. You can't tell anyone."
"Caitlin, you're behind a tree. You're behind a tree just off the main pathway."
"Fine," Caitlin hissed, grabbing her arm and pulling her up. "We'll go somewhere more private then." She dragged Mitchie through the trees until the sounds of camp had faded away behind them and Mitchie yanked her arm away pulling to a stop.
"Okay, Caitlin, spill it."
"You might not believe me," Caitlin opened. "But I swear I'm telling the truth. I know it doesn't sound possible or even halfway likely but-"
"Caitlin, just tell me. I'm your best friend, of course I'll believe you."
Caitlin bit her lip for a moment then took a deep breath. "Okay," she said slowly. "Okay, well here's the thing. See... I can breathe helium."
For a moment they just stared at each other. Then Mitchie burst out laughing. "Right," she said disbelievingly. "Of course, Caitlin. You can breathe helium." She laughed. "Yeah, and Nate's guitar is magic. Come on, what did you really want to tell me?"
"That was it," Caitlin protested. "I can breathe helium, I swear."
"Okay, Caitlin, remember when I said of course I'd believe you..."
"I'm telling the truth!"
"No one can breathe helium."
"What about the balloons, at the party last year. They flew, Caitlin. I blew into them and then they flew up into the air. We had to tie them down we just didn't think about it. We thought 'they're balloons, balloon's fly.' Except they don't. Not without helium."
"Caitlin, I have no idea what you're talking about but I can assure you that you can't breathe helium."
"I'm telling the truth!"
Caitlin bit her lip, trying to keep herself together. Should've known, she thought bitterly, pushing Mitchie out of the way so she could run off through the trees. Her best friend hadn't beliebe her, her best friend hadn't even bothered to entertain the possibility that maybe... just maybe the world wasn't how Mitchie Torres believed it to be. Should've known. I mean, is it so hard to believe? I mean, Tess was nice to me earlier. Now that's the kind of thing that's impossible. Compared to that, breathing helium is like...
She sighed, and slumped down between the roots of a tree, unable to come up with an accurate comparison. Her head dropped against her legs and for a moment there was nothing but her breathing. A bird landed on the ground in front of her and she looked at it.
It whistled softly. Caitlin sighed, opening her mouth to tell it to go away. The voice that emerged was at least three octaves higher that her own. "Get lost." The bird let out a cry and flew away looking, if possible, very surprised. Caitlin coughed roughly. Not now, she thought irritably, as though this might make it go away.
Caitlin looked up to see Mitchie watching her. "You can get lost too," she retorted, her voice still horrible and high. She whacked a hand against her chest roughly, in the hope that it would dislodge whatever magic powers she had. After coughing again she looked up to see Mitchie still watching her. "Well?" she snapped, relieved to find her normal voice was back again. "What do you want?"
"You were telling the truth."
"Finally, it dawns on her. It's nice to know you think I'd lie to you. We don't all lie to our friends, Mitchie." Still feeling annoyed about the whole thing she added. "How's Hot Tunes these days?"
Mitchie sighed and sat down opposite her. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "But, I mean, you have to admit it's hard to believe."
"More like impossible," Caitlin agreed with an apologetic smile. "I spent, like, six months denying it to myself before I thought. 'Okay, I can breathe helium. I guess that's cool.'"
Mitchie smiled back. "I guess it is," she agreed. "And it's not all that unbelievable really, is it. It's probably something really weird biologically. It's not like its magic helium."
"Ah." Caitlin bit her lip, finding herself looking anywhere except into Mitchie's eyes. "Yeah, Mitchie... um, about that whole 'not magic helium' thing..."