Nate was finishing up his drum class. “That’s right. Keep it up,” he said to the drummers. “And now bring it home.” As they ended their session with a loud crash of cymbals, Nate nodded.

“Nice. I knew you could do it.” He glanced at the clock. “I think it’s a little late to start something new, so whaddaya say we all go enjoy some free time.”

And there was no question how he was going to spend it.

The campers were still gathering up their stuff when Nate hurried out of the drum cabin, ran down to the dock, kicked off his shoes, and began untying a canoe.

Minutes later he was paddling across the lake toward Camp Star. As he approached, he allowed the canoe to drift for a moment, trying to see if he could spot Dana through the trees.

“There she is,” he muttered. Or, at least, he thought it was her. It was kind of hard to tell with all the trees blocking his view.

“What are you doing?”

Nate yelped. He’d thought he was alone—he hadn’t realized that Sander and another camper had floated up alongside him on a Jet Ski!

“Why do people keep doing that?” he asked, shaking his head. Just once, he’d like the chance to spy on Dana alone.

“Sorry,” Sander said, spraying some water on him. “Just doing our part as activities directors.”

“What’s today’s activity?” Nate asked.

Sander let out a mischievous laugh. “Wakeboarding!”

Nate whipped his head around. A camper was bobbing in the water with a wakeboard at the end of a rope. “No! Don’t!” Nate cried, realizing what was about to happen.

But it was too late. Sander revved the engine of the Jet Ski and sped forward. Nate’s canoe flipped over, tumbling Nate into the lake. All those swim lessons are about to come in handy, he thought, grabbing the canoe and starting to swim.

After what seemed like an eternity, Nate reached the lakeshore at Camp Star. Dripping wet, he stumbled out of the water, pulling the still-overturned canoe behind him. He lay down on a large boulder in the sun, exhausted.

“Are you okay?” Dana asked, walking up to him.

Nate nodded, still trying to catch his breath.

“Don’t suppose you were coming over here to see anyone in particular?” she said nonchalantly.

Nate squeezed his eyes shut, mortified. “No. Just getting some … exercise.”

“Do you play a lot of sports?” Dana asked brightly.

“Canoeing. That’s pretty much it,” Nate said, not even sure why he was saying that. He never canoed.

“I’m not really all that sporty either,” Dana told him. “I played soccer when I was little, but who doesn’t?” When Nate didn’t say anything, she kept right on talking. “I don’t know if it counts as a sport, but I’d love to be a dancer—that’s kind of my nerdy secret if-I-could-beanything-that’s-what-I’d-be wish. What would you be?”

“Don’t know,” Nate said, finally catching his breath. “Never thought about it.”

Dana smiled. “Probably because if you could be anything, you’d be you.” She paused and looked coyly at Nate. “Do you want to hear something totally stupid? I was goofing around and accidentally sorta wrote your name on my hand, but I used permanent ink by mistake.” She thrust out her hand to show him.

“No one’s ever written my name on their hand before,” Nate mumbled, staring. nate was written on her wrist, just below her dana bracelet.

Dana pulled her arm back quickly. “Really more my wrist.”

Nate reached out for her hand. “Dana?” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Blech!” Suddenly Nate coughed up a mouthful of lake water. “Sorry,” he managed to say.

A voice called out from the trees. “Dana?”

Dana looked panicky. “It’s my dad! I’m not supposed to be talking to you. Hurry. Go!”

Without sticking around to find out what would happen if he stayed, Nate raced to his overturned canoe and scrambled underneath it.

He heard Axel’s footsteps.

“I, um, saw this canoe,” Dana told her father, covering.

“You can tell by the peeling paint it’s one of theirs,” Axel said. “I’ll have an attendant fish it out.” There was a moment of silence. He asked, “What’s that on your wrist?”

“Nothing,” Dana said. And with that, they headed off.

As the sound of their voices faded away, Nate came out from his hiding place. “You know what I want to be?” he said, kicking the ground in frustration. “The kind of guy who can tell you how I really feel. I hate canoes!”

His wet clothes sticking to him, Nate climbed into the canoe, grabbed a paddle, and headed back across the lake to Camp Rock. When he finally arrived, returned the canoe, and began slogging up the hill toward his cabin, there was Shane, drinking it all in.

“I’m still an idiot,” Nate muttered as he walked past.

“And I still agree,” Shane said.

Nate turned, ready to punch him, but Shane held him off. “Dude, do you mind? You can’t keep hitting me.”

Nate sighed. His brother was right.

But Shane wasn’t safe. Just then, Mitchie came running toward him, tackling him to the ground.

“Aaah!” she shrieked excitedly. “I had absolutely the best day! Everything is finally starting to work.”

As Nate walked off in search of dry clothes, Shane and Mitchie got up.

“That’s great,” Shane said. “And it’s all because of you.”

“Because of us,” Mitchie corrected, her eyes sparkling.

“So, now that everyone else has gotten your time, I think I’m going to have to demand some of my own,” Shane said, squeezing her hand.

Mitchie squeezed back. “It hasn’t been bad.”

Shane snorted. “The whole reason I’m here—that my brothers are here—is so I can get to know you a little better,” he told her. “But I feel like I’ve hardly had two seconds alone with you.”

Mitchie couldn’t believe how cool Shane was being. “That’s, like, the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“But … ?” Shane said, raising an eyebrow.

“But—” Mitchie began.

“And now a word from your friendly neighborhood announcer,” came Barron’s voice over the Camp Rock loudspeaker. “Will the counselors scheduled for tonight’s bonfire please report to the mess hall.”

Shane blew out his breath. “But you have to go,” he finished.

“We have to go. Shane—”

Shane held up a finger to her lips. “No. It’s cool. They need you.”

Mitchie knew she was lucky to have such a supportive boyfriend. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I’ll catch up,” he promised, walking toward the dock.

Mitchie watched him go—and then hurried off toward the mess hall.

It was a perfect summer night. Everyone at Camp Rock was outside, gathering around the huge bonfire. People were roasting marshmallows, strumming guitars, playing charades … a great end to a great day.

Jason was sitting alongside Mitchie’s mom by the fire.

“I’m impressed,” she told him as the Junior Rockers raced by, high-fiving him as they passed. “You seem to be doing much better with them.”

Jason nodded. “Yeah, it took a little while, but I think I’ve finally earned their respect.”

He stood up—but the log he had been sitting on was still attached to him. “Huh?” He bent over and tried to shake the log loose.

“All right,” he grumbled as Trevor filmed him. “Who glued me to the log?”

The Junior Rockers were doubled over with laughter. “Log Butt! Log Butt!” Gage taunted.

“We’re gonna call you Log Butt.”

“Fine,” Jason said, crossing his arms. “But you know the only thing worse than being called Log Butt? Being sat on by a Log Butt.” And to the Junior Rockers delight, he ran after them.

“Look!” shouted a young camper. “Fireflies!” Sure enough, fireflies were flitting across the lawn near the water. The campers stood up and began to chase them. They didn’t realize that across the lake, Axel Turner was watching the blissful chaos through his binoculars with Luke and Tess beside him.

“It’s like Lord of the Flies over there,” he muttered, handing the binoculars to Luke. “There’s no way they’re making it through the summer.” Satisfied with what he’d seen, he walked away.

“I remember doing that,” Tess said longingly, watching a group of laughing campers. “It’s fun.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Luke snapped.

But Tess couldn’t help herself.

* * *

Back at Mitchie’s cabin, Mitchie, Caitlyn, Peggy, Ella, Barron, and Sander were sitting outside on the porch, enjoying the summer-night breeze. Mitchie played a few chords on her guitar as her friends talked about the day’s events.

“It felt so great just standing up in front of that class today,” Peggy said, leaning against a pillar.

Caitlyn nodded. “I feel like there’s nothing we can’t do.”

Ella groaned. “Pleats. Still can’t do pleats.”

Sander cracked his knuckles. “Wish we had that attitude the other night at Camp Star.”

“Yeah,” Barron agreed. “I so wanted to shove it right back in their faces.”

Mitchie understood exactly how he’d felt. It had been so frustrating sitting there watching Luke strut across the stage with his fancy lights and backup dancers.

“That hardly counted,” Peggy pointed out.

“They’d been planning that for weeks.”

“Yeah, but now they’re all walking around thinking they’re better than us,” Barron said angrily.

“So not true,” Peggy said. “I’d like to see them really go up against us.”

Caitlyn’s eyes grew wide. “If we had the time to get it together, there is no way they’d even stand a chance. Like in Final Jam …”

“There is just no way,” Peggy said.

“Camp Rock rules!” Sander shouted. “We’re so much better.”

“Lots of big talk,” Mitchie chimed in, a mischievous smile on her lips. “Wanna see if it’s true?”