Camp Rock’s jams were legendary, and this summer’s Opening Jam did not disappoint. Mitchie felt incredible being on the Camp Rock main stage again, and her voice sounded clear and strong as she finished her song with her friends.

“Rock on, Camp Rock!” she yelled into the mike before handing it over to Brown Cesario, Camp Rock’s enthusiastic director and founding member of the classic rock band the Wet Crows. The crowd was still wildly applauding Mitchie as Brown began to address the campers.

“Mitchie Torres, returning rocker!” he said, smiling over at Mitchie appreciatively and running his fingers through his dirty blond hair. “Welcome to the heart and soul of rock and roll. Whether you’re slick and happenin’ or dark and jammin’, Camp Rock is the place to be.” He gazed out at the campers’ attentive faces. “Now, I’m sure you’ve noticed there aren’t quite as many of you as in years past, but not to worry—”

Suddenly he was cut off. Mitchie had grabbed his arm. “Shane!” she shouted, rushing off the stage.

“Sorry,” Connie muttered to Brown. “She does that.”

But who could blame her? Mitchie had just spotted Shane, Jason, and Nate pulling up to the camp … in the back of a farmer’s pickup truck?

Mitchie gaped as Shane’s adorable face appeared, surrounded by hay and a few chicken crates.

“Hey, Mitchie!” he called … before falling out of the back of the truck.

“Shane!” Mitchie cried again, running over to him and helping him to his feet. Someone had tied his shoelaces together. She shot a dirty look toward Jason and Nate. She had a pretty good idea it was one of them. “Are you all right?” she asked Shane. A chicken landed on his head, and Mitchie giggled.

“I’m fine,” he said as the chicken hopped off. He grinned sheepishly at her. “Surprise.”

“Surprise,” Mitchie said, smiling back at him. She had waited so long for this moment, and now that it was here she didn’t know where to begin.

The guys grabbed their luggage and, along with Mitchie, began walking toward Brown, who waved them over.

“Yes, Rockers, my nephews and Camp Rock alum, better known to the world as Connect 3, are going to be with us for the summer,” he announced. “The official reason being they missed their uncle, but somehow I don’t think that’s the whole story.”

Mitchie looked over at Shane. “The summer? Really?” With Connect 3’s busy schedule, she’d been hoping they would be there for a month at the most. Knowing that she and Shane would have all summer together was awesome!

“I already know it’s not going to be long enough,” Shane said, gazing at Mitchie. Her heart skipped a beat.

“People staring. You should probably react,” Jason muttered. “Wave. Blink.”

Laughing, Mitchie and Shane finally stopped looking at each other and faced the other campers.

“Hey, Rockers,” Shane said, giving a wave. “I’m Shane. This is Nate and Jason. I know it’ll be hard, but just treat us like any other camper.”

The crowd of kids smiled, then turned back to listen to Brown, still on the stage.

“So maybe it won’t be that hard,” Shane said as Mitchie laughed.

“As I was saying,” Brown continued, “we’re a little smaller this year, and that’s courtesy of our new friends across the lake—Camp Star. Founded, not so coincidentally, by my out-to-destroy-me, still-mad-that-I-kickedhim-out-of-the-group former bandmate, Axel Turner.”

Shane, Jason, and Nick let out a simultaneous low groan.

“That was like a hundred years ago,” Jason said.

“Twenty-five,” Brown corrected. “But thank you for that.”

Tess was hopping up and down in the crowd. “Axel Turner? The guy who owns Star Records?” she said excitedly. “You mean he’s right across the lake?”

Mitchie shot her a look. The girl sounded way too excited about Camp Star.

“Yes,” Brown said, answering Tess’s question.

“And I share your disdain,” he added sarcastically. “Now, it’s going to take some effort, but I’m sure that we can all peacefully coexist on the lake without—”

Just then a sleek speedboat with a Camp Star flag on its stern roared across the lake. It was so loud it drowned out Brown’s words.

As it circled back around for a second pass, a small cannon on the boat’s deck fired four times.

“Get down!” Jason shouted. “We’re under attack!”

Four parachutes sailed out of the cannon and opened up to reveal little baskets. The Camp Rockers watched as they floated down into the crowd.

“It’s full of marshmallows!” Peggy exclaimed, catching one.

“This one has chocolate,” Caitlyn said, holding another.

“Graham crackers,” Barron said, wagging his eyebrows.

“And who made these parachutes?” Ella wanted to know. “They’re adorable!”

Mitchie opened a note that was attached to one of the baskets. “‘The whole camp is invited to an opening-night bonfire,’” she read. Everyone began cheering.

Brown was shaking his head. “No. Absolutely not. I know this guy. This is a setup. For what, I’m not sure—well, cavities for one—but trust me, no good can come of this.”

But by the reaction of all the campers, Brown had clearly lost control. Kids were standing up, talking excitedly about the bonfire, and heading down to the beach to get the canoes ready.

“It’ll be fun,” Connie said, trying to reassure Brown. “You just said we have to try and get along. And I’m not just saying that because I haven’t made anything for dessert yet.”

Brown let out a sigh. No dessert and Axel Turner inviting his campers to a bonfire? This was bad. Really bad.

* * *

Mitchie sucked in her breath as her canoe pulled up to the Camp Star docks. She didn’t really care about the bonfire—but she was curious to see what Camp Star was all about.

And as she gazed up the hill, she had a pretty good idea.

The place didn’t look like a camp—it was a resort!

She noticed that behind her, Shane was having a little trouble. As in, he had one foot on the dock while his other foot was still in his boat. And the boat was starting to drift.

“A little help?” Shane was calling to his brothers, who were already on their way to the camp.

Laughing, Mitchie reached out and grabbed Shane, pulling him to safety. “See?” she said. “These are the kinds of things I can’t learn about you over e-mail.”

“Maybe we should go back to that,” Shane joked. “Unless you found that sweet and endearing instead of stupid and klutzy.”

Definitely sweet, Mitchie thought. She couldn’t wait to spend some quality time with Shane. But finding out what Camp Star was up to came first.

Farther down the dock, a group of rowdy nineyear-old Junior Camp Rockers was getting out of their boat. Their counselor, a harried looking guy with a bad sunburn, was trying to get them in line.

Jason walked over to them. “I remember when I was a Junior Rocker,” he said, feeling nostalgic. He pumped his fist. “Rock on, my little brothers. Bumps and high fives.”

One of the Junior Rockers was filming all the goings-on with a video camera. “Oh, hey, little man, what do we have here?” Jason said, nodding appreciatively. “A video camera? Very cool.”

He reached over to touch it, but the kid pulled away.

“Don’t touch it,” the boy said, frowning.

Jason’s eyes widened. “What, you think I’m going to drop it in the water?”

The kid shrugged, then handed it to Jason … who accidentally dropped it in the water.

“And if you thought that, you’d have been right,” Jason said, taking a deep breath as the boy crossed his arms and scowled up at him.

Meanwhile, Brown and Connie had started walking up the path, but had been stopped by Brown’s former bandmate—now nemesis—Axel Turner.

“Brown, my man,” Axel said, grinning. “Long time.”

Brown sighed. “And yet never long enough. Look, Axel, I don’t know what you’re playing at—”

Axel held up his hands “Whoa! I’m beginning to remember why I left the band.”

“Left the band?” Brown exclaimed. “You left the band? Is that what you’re telling people?” Axel had been thrown out of the band for a bad attitude that went beyond normal rock-star behavior. The guy was talented for sure—but completely ruthless.

“You, my friend, have got to stop living in the past,” Axel declared. “I’m trying to reach out to you here.”

Brown couldn’t believe his ears. “By driving me out of business?”

Axel smiled again. “There’s no reason we both can’t be successful. We each have our niche.”

“Niche?” Brown repeated warily.

“Camp Star is dedicated to producing the superstars of tomorrow. What’s your place about again?” Axel asked, as if he didn’t know.

“Encouraging kids in their love of music,” Brown said firmly. And if that led to them becoming professional musicians, even better. Focusing on their craft—songwriting, producing, dancing, singing—not aiming for instant superstardom was what Brown was all about.

Axel smiled as he turned to go. “Like I said, room for both of us.”

Brown turned to Connie. “Just to be clear, he did not leave the band. We kicked him out.”

“I know,” Connie assured him. “It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t okay. Brown was seriously worried. How would Camp Rock compete with superslick Camp Star?