Camp Rock [H.S. & C.S.]

Chapter one

"Harry, up!" Anne Styles commanded as she stepped through the piles of clothes of CDs on her fifteen-year-old son's bedroom floor. "Last day of school!" She clapped her hands cheerfully before disappearing down the hall.

In the bed, Harry stirred and groaned. His hand shot out from under the covers and grabbed a CD labeled Harry's tunes from the nightstand. Without looking, Harry popped the disc into the CD player and pushed play.

Instantly, the chords of a pop song filled the room. It featured vocals by none other than Harry Styles himself. As the beat intensified, Harry threw off his covers and jumped out of bed. He pulled his long, wavy brown hair back, and singing the words he knew by heart, he opened his closet and peered in.

What to wear? The jeans? He held it up to his hips. Nope. The jeans were looking too mini. Shorts? Nope. Same problem. Pants, he thought. Maybe. Grabbing a pair of capris from a hanger, he tried them on. Better, but not perfect. Then he spied leggings, and inspiration flared. A pair of pants and leggings—the perfect, not-too-dressy, last-day-of-school outfit.

In the middle of putting on a long necklace, Harry was hit with an idea. He hurried from his closet to his desk, where he grabbed a journal. On the front, in bold letters, was written "Harry's Songs". He furiously scribbled some lyrics on a blank page. Satisfied with the new verses, Harry smiled, put the journal away, and continued dancing out of his room, down the hall, and into the kitchen, where his mother had set out breakfast.

Harry plopped down at the kitchen table, and began to scarf down an omelet. On the television, an entertainment show discussed the most recent antics of Cole Sprouse—musician and hottie.

"The pop-star phenomenal Cole Sprouse," the television reporter intoned. "May have gone too far this time when he stormed off the set of his music video after someone gave him a grande nonfat latte instead of his legendary Venti soy chai latte with extra foam. This final stunt cost his label thousands of dollars, but may cost him his record deal."

Harry sighed, Cole Sprouse had everything. Why would he want to ruin it?

"The message is clear," the reporter went on. "He needs to clean up his act. And to give him to do it, the Connect Three summer tour has been cancelled."

The report was almost over when Harry's mother sat down in the seat next to him.

"Look at what I found in the crisper," Anne said, tossing a colorful, glossy booklet onto the table. "A Camp Rock brochure. Or should I say another Camp Rock brochure."

"Hmm, look at that!" Harry said, faking surprise. He shoveled another forkload of omelet into his mouth. So maybe the hints he'd been dropping about going to Camp Rock this summer hadn't been as subtle as he thought. But if he got in, all his dreams could come true.

"So, you have no knowledge of how this brochure got into the refrigerator?" His mother asked. "Or the one taped to the vacuum cleaner?"

Harry shrugged.

"Sweetie," Anne continued. "I know you want to go to this camp, but we just can't swing it right now and Dad expanding the store and my catering business just taking off, and... I'm sorry," she said gently.

Harry's mood deflated. Deep down he had figured Camp Rock was out of the question, but a boy could hope...

"I know," he said, standing to take his empty plate to the sink. "Well, gotta go. Last day of school. Don't want to be late."

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The halls were abuzz with last-day-of-school energy. Students were joking with each other as they joyfully dumped old notebooks, tests, and quizzes into the overflowing garbage cans.

Harry opened his lockers to find a year's worth of clutter-"—crumpled papers, worn-out pencils, and textbooks—jammed in at odd angles.

He sighed and began throwing various items into the trash. A Camp Rock brochure caught his eye. He sighed and tossed it into the trash, too.

He was still cleaning a few minutes later when Liam, s lanky boy with glasses, walked up and opened the locker next to Harry's. Liam was Harry's best friend—his only friend.

"Let me be the first to say xin xia ji!" Liam exclaimed, acknowledging summer's arrival. "Guess who got an A-plus in AP Mandarin? Me. Again!" Liam screamed excitedly, but Harry didn't feel joining in the celebration of his friend's achievement just now. He was too distracted by a group of popular girls floating down the hall.

"Ugh," Liam groaned. "The Queen Bees are here. If we don't move, they won't sting." He rolled his eyes, but Harry watched the girls enviously.

"Don't you ever wonder what it would be like to be one of them?" Harry asked.

Liam gave his friend a suspicious look. "Are you feeling feverish?" He jokingly put his hand on Harry's forehead. "So," He said, changing the subject. "How'd it go this morning?"

"It didn't," Harry said dejectedly. "Camp Rock is a no-go."

"But you have to go! Camp Rock is, like, the music camp. Everybody who wants to be somebody in music—" Liam stopped when he saw the unhappy look on Harry's face. "—All of which you already know. Sorry."

Harry swept the remaining junk from his locker into the trash and closed the door one last time. "Me too. I was so excited to go and have a summer that's all about music."

Liam closed his own locker and put his hand on Harry's shoulder. Then he asked the only thing he could. "So, what are going to do this summer?"