Chapter Text
"Make sure you're all packed for tomorrow, mija." Ray Molina gave his daughter a reassuring smile as he stood in her doorway. It didn't do much to disguise the worry in his eyes.
Julie did her best to seem excited. "I will." She leaned in, giving her father a kiss on the cheek, which seemed to ease his worry.
"Te quiero." Ray murmured.
"Te quiero, papi." Julie mused, making sure her door was all the way shut and the sound of Ray's footsteps faded away before letting the facade drop, sighing.
Julie’s suitcase sat open on her bed, the clothes inside folded neatly inside. The rest of her bags sat by the door to her room, all packed and double-checked meticulously by her tia Victoria that day. Victoria had insisted on being with Julie the whole day to make sure she was ready to leave for camp. She’d gone through the packing list half a dozen times, folded and refolded Julie’s clothes, and had even insisted on the two of them going to get their nails done(“What will the campers think of you if you have unkempt nails?”). Truth be told, though, Julie knew her aunt was worried that Julie wouldn’t have packed on her own outside her watchful gaze.
Though Julie had spent the last few weeks doing her best to act excited and ready to go back, she knew her family, especially her dad, was waiting for her to take back her decision to go. Julie had gushed so much, her dad had made a point not to mention camp as much, or else risk having Julie talk his ear off for twenty minutes about how excited she was to go canoing on the lake. She’d done a good enough job that even her little brother Carlos was convinced she was genuinely looking forward to going back, and that was no easy feat.
And, though she wouldn’t admit it aloud, there was a part of Julie that really was excited to go back to camp. She'd been going for years, and the months in between sessions used to be spent thinking about what songs she'd perform or what classes she'd sign up for. But after everything that had happened last summer.....well, Julie hadn't even given camp a second thought. In fact, she hadn't even realized her dad had registered her for another summer until she'd found the confirmation letter on the dining room table.
At first, Julie had been adamant, stating that there was no way she was going back there. Several arguments and tense dinners later, Julie hadn't planned on budging. But then, a few weeks ago, she'd overheard her father in the studio, and everything changed.
Julie stood outside the garage, her hand hovering over the door handle. Why she had ventured out to the studio in the first place, she had forgotten instantly upon hearing her father’s voice come from the other side of the door.
”I don’t know what to do.” Ray sighed from inside. “Victoria and I, we both know she needed time, but I thought she’d go back to music again. It’s been months. She hasn’t even been out here to play piano, and now she doesn’t want to go back to camp? Dios mio, it’s like she’s lost the music she used to be brimming with. I....I feel like I’m failing her, Rose.”
Julie inhaled sharply at the mention of her mother’s name. Her father didn’t seem to hear her, thankfully. “I feel like I’m failing her. What....what do I do?” Ray’s voice faded into silence, replaced by the sound of quiet sobs.
Julie had run back to the house before he could stumble out and realize she'd overheard. She had never heard her father sound so dejected, and she'd never imagine him feeling that way about her. She knew he'd been upset about her distance from music. He had tried and failed to convince her to join some of the after school music groups already. But they both knew camp was more important than anything she could have ever done at school. Especially after Rose....
That night at dinner, Julie casually asked if camp had sent over the housing registration forms, and seeing Ray’s face light up was worth stomaching one last summer at camp.
She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. 10:37 p.m. They were leaving at 5:00 a.m. tomorrow morning, and, though she knew the pit in her stomach would leave her tossing and turning, she had to try to fall asleep. As she moved to close her suitcase, her eyes landed on the picture frame on her dresser. It was 10-year old Julie and her mom sitting in a gorgeous field. They were laughing at something one of them had said, probably one of her mom's jokes. It was Julie's favorite picture they had together.
Before she could convince herself otherwise, Julie grabbed the picture of her dresser and put in her suitcase, zipping it shut. She put it with the rest of her bags, before crawling into bed and turning off the light. She stared up at the ceiling, her hands fidgeting with the comforter, before sighing.
”Camp Rock, here I come.”
***
“Sunset Curve’s Summer Tour Cancelled: Is Frontman Luke Patterson To Blame?”
Luke cringed as he read the cover of the tabloid. A few other magazines were scattered across the table, all with similar titles and up-close shots of Luke, most of which he hadn’t realized had been taken. One cover had a particularly unflattering picture of him as he stormed out of the door of HGC Records, his hands balled into fists and his eyes ablaze. It had been taken right after another nasty argument with Caleb over their music, and Luke had been fuming for the rest of the day. The magazine used the picture as an opportunity to blow things out of proportion, as did all the others. The tabloids seemed to be united on one front: make Luke look like the villain.
”Luke?” A hand on his shoulder made him jump, and he tore his gaze off the tabloids to look up at Alex. “You good?”
“As good as I can be right now.” Luke shrugged, leaning back in his chair.
He was underexagerrating, if he was being completely honest. This whole mess was his fault, and he’d managed to drag his two best frends into the line of fire.
It had started with their most recent music video shoot. Well, it really started back when they’d signed with HGC Records three years ago, but Luke didn’t feel like dredging up every little thing that pissed him off. The music video was for their most recent album, the one they’d toured with over the winter, and the boys had been dreading the shoot for weeks. Caleb and the video producer hadn’t really let them be privy to the details of the shoot, and they hadn’t even known what they’d be wearing until they went to the costume crew on the first day.
Luke had considered the costumes strike one. They were flashy suits, each boy sporting their signature colors in the monocrhome ensembles. Luke’s even had a frilly button up that felt too tight to sing in, but he knew not to say anything. Caleb always made it clear that the boys had no say.
The whole concept of the music video was strike two. The producer had them playing their song in a set remeniscent of Katy Perry’s California Girls music video, complete with the bright backdrops and fake palm trees. Their backup dancers had colorful wigs and tight dresses with strange designs. To top it all off, there were bubbles. In a rock music video. Still, Luke had kept his cool, even then, and had made it through about three days into the shoot when everything went to shit.
Luke had been at the refreshments table, gulping down the iced lemon water with ferocity—it is hot in his suit—when Caleb and the producer had started up a conversation a few feet away. Luke hadn’t paid them any attention, and hadn’t really even realized they were there, until he heard his name get tossed into the mix.
“...and Luke is defintely going to shine in the next album.” Caleb was saying, a smug look on his face. “The writers have been coming up with some material that is going to change how the world sees Sunset Curve.”
“What genre is it?” The producer asked, probably already putting together new ideas in his mind to get ahead. Luke had almost tuned out of the conversation right then, turning to go back to his dressing room, when Caleb spoke:
“Pop.”
Luke honestly didn’t remember a lot of what happened next. All he could see when he thought back to the moments after was a red haze of anger and rage. According to Alex and Reggie and everyone else on set, he’d started yelling at Caleb, calling him ‘cheap,’ ‘greedy,’ claiming that he was trying to turn Sunset Curve into ‘sellouts’ and that he was ‘ruining their image.’ Luke also remembered coming out of his haze and his suit jacket no longer having sleeves.
Today marked four days since the blowup, and Caleb had summoned them into his office, the stack of tabloids awaiting them. He told them he’d cancelled them summer tour, much to their shock, before telling them that they had an hour to figure out a way to ‘cleap up their act’ or else they’d be facing a lawsuit for breach of contract. He’d looked directly at Luke for all of it, before storming out of the room.
Thirty-seven minutes had passed, and the boys still had no ideas.
They had all picked their brains relentlessly. Even Reggie, who seemed to always have a good idea tucked away up his sleeves, was clueless, and had been on Google trying to look for a solution since the twenty minute mark.
Luke groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “I’m so sorry, guys.” He mumbled, guilt tugging in his chest. “I’m the one who caused this mess. You two shouldn’t have to deal with this.”
“As much as I agree that it’s your fault, Luke, you shouldn’t be sorry.” Alex sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This was a long time coming.”
“Still, if we don’t come up with an idea now, we’re screwed.” Luke slumped down in his chair. “And then Sunset Curve is over and it’ll be all my fault.”
”Dude, you’re being dramatic.” Alex snorted.
“I gotta go with Alex on this one.” Reggie agreed, glancing up from his phone. “Caleb didn’t create Sunset Curve. He didn’t even know who we were until he saw us perform at camp.”
“Huh.” Luke sat straight up. “You’re right, Reg. Scratch that. You, Reginald, are a genius.”
”I am?” Reggie beamed, looking up from his phone. “Aw, thanks Luke.” The guitarist didn’t respond, instead standing up from his chair and pulling out his phone, scrolling through it as fast as he could.
”What are you doing?” Alex asked, giving him a confused look.
”I have an idea” was all Luke told him before hitting the call button on one of his oldest contacts.
Twenty minutes later, Caleb sat across the desk from the boys, looking between the three of them. “This is your bright idea?” He scoffed. “Summer camp? You want me to send one of the most famous boy bands of the decade back to summer camp?”
”First off, don’t call us a boy band.” Luke shot back. “Secondly, this is a great opportunity. Think of the good publicity we’ll get! ‘Sunset Curve Gives Back To Where It All Began!’ ‘Troubled Teen Heartthrob Luke Patterson Cleans Up His Act!’ The press will go nuts about us, and they’ll forget all about this little incident.”
“And what, exactly, do you get out of it?” Caleb narrowed his eyes. “Surely you must have something you’re getting out of this.”
“We do.” Luke smirked. “The boys and I are going to write our own songs for the next album while we’re there.
”That’s out of the question—!” Caleb began, but Luke cut him off.
”It might be, but you don’t really have any other options, do you?” Luke knew he was being bold, and that maybe being a bit nicer would get him where he wanted without him and Caleb breaking out into another shouting match. But the idea of writing and playing his own music again was too tempting.
Caleb’s eyes bored into his own, and Luke stared back with equal ferocity. After what seemed like forever passed by, Luke got his answer:
”Fine.”
Sunset Curve was going back to Camp Rock.