its a neww story timee!! yeahhh! if you are reading this right now i want to thank you for giving my story a chance and your time. =] im always grateful when i know people appreciate my stories. it makes my day better. warning ahead of time: this story may get a little gritty at times. so if you are not into that kind of stuff i would unwillingly like to say you should not read some of these chapters. this one isnt too bad. you should be okay. =] im gonna stop talking now so you can read!!

i dont own any of the camp rock characters. i dont own this amazing song by angels & airwaves. all the other people you dont recognize are mine. =] thats all!

Chapter One: Call To Arms

There's a little black dark scar tire divide

This is it, can you hear me?

Have you ever felt a sad heart buried alive?

You can do almost anything

There's a little red bridge with the view of the sun with a lake

Recommends such a setting sight

And the thousands of stars come out thousands of times

We can go, only if you believe.

Call To Arms: Angels & Airwaves

It was happening again.

Along with the shouting, mostly made by my father, pots clattered and chairs were pushed violently across the linoleum floor. The crash of a plate broke through all the rising hostility in the already tense house. These noises and screaming matches were unfortunately familiar to me. They happened at least once every day – twice on special occasions.

I cranked the music up on my new orange IPod, a gift from my boss, letting the soothing music of Angels & Airwaves block out all the negative noises. My feet tapped along to the opening guitar solo of one of their songs. I reached across the bed and grabbed my guitar [my prized possession] which was perched against the dresser, instantly mimicking the guitar pulsing through my headphones. My fingers flew over the strings with precision and determination only a guitarist had.

Seconds later the bedroom door swung open, smashing against the wall. Pictures fell off the wall clanging to the floor with fear. The sudden noise startled me. The guitar slipped through my fingers and hit the floor loudly. I cringed at the sound.

Blue in the face and fuming, my enraged father crossed the room at hypersonic speed. He ripped the headphones off my head violently.

"You think you own the house, don't you? Sitting up here making all the noise you can on your little guitar," he said, tripping over his words in his drunken rage. He picked up the fallen guitar from the floor. "Think the whole world revolves around you."

He stumbled forward, gripping the guitar like he was about to smash it over his knee. Fear for my guitar pushed aside all thoughts of my own wellbeing.

"Well, I'm going to see that you never play this damn guitar again," he said menacingly, the huge vein in his forehead throbbing red – as it always did when he was angry and drunk.

He lifted the guitar above his head, rearing back to strike.

For the first time my mind registered terror; there was no doubt what he was going to do next. The last thing I heard was my mother scream, "Noo!"

Then everything went black.

"Oh my God, Mitchie," was the first thing my best friend, Caitlyn Gellar, yelled at me the next morning.

I groaned. "Do I look that bad?"

"As your best friend, I'm inclined to tell you the truth, which is yes, you look terrible. Follow me," she said, dragging me into the closest bathroom.

Caitlyn shoved me in front of the mirror to get her point across. An actual gasp of horror escaped my mouth.

"Did you not look at yourself before you left for school?" asked Caitlyn, digging through her bag.

"I was a little pressed for time this morning," I grumbled at her.

Even I couldn't believe I looked that bad, usually I'm extremely careful about covering up but this morning I woke up ten minutes before school started. The mirror image blinked back at me, I could almost hear it asking what was wrong with me. Above my left eye was a deep red gash about an inch to two inches long. Dry, crusted blood matted parts of my flat brown hair to the cut. I attempted to pry the hair off the cut, but it hurt too badly.

Not only did I have a fresh cut, a bruise was also forming on my left cheek bone. Not to mention the other couple bruises already festering along my arms, legs, and body.

"Honey," Caitlyn said using the tone she uses when she wants me to listen to her closely. "You need to get out of there."

"I can't," I said, it was always the same answer.

Caitlyn scrubbed a wet paper towel against the cut.

"Ow!" I cried, shrinking away from my brunette friends touch.

"Be still," ordered Caitlyn. "I need to clean this before it becomes infected."

Obeying the order, I stayed as still as the pain allowed. "You could at least be gentler about it," I pouted.

I caught her rolling her light brown eyes in the mirror – a bad habit she picked up from me.

"Better," Caitlyn said, somewhat satisfied. "Now for some foundation, we need to hide that ugly bruise that's forming."

Five minutes later Caitlyn stepped back to admire her handiwork. "I cleaned you up pretty well if I do say so myself."

I couldn't argue. The cut looked much smaller and cleaner and the bruise was barely visible under the heavy coat of foundation. My eyes still looked sunken in and tired along with my flat, dull hair. I pulled my stringy hair up in a messy bun – that was going to have to do. I straightened my ever present long-sleeve shirt to make sure all the bruises were hidden.

"Thank you," I told Caitlyn gratefully.

"What are best friends for?" smiled Caitlyn, looping her arm through mine.

We exited the bathroom feeling somewhat better than I had walking into it. I glanced to the right and was practically trampled by an incoming person.

"Get out of my way frosh," the angry voice of a boy said.

Caitlyn picked me up glaring at the boy's retreating back.

"That's going to leave another bruise," I groaned, holding my arm. "Who was that?"

"Shane Gray," grumbled Caitlyn. "Thinks he owns the entire school. Not even that cute."

"Cait, give it a rest. He's just a stuck up senior. Don't waste your breath."

Caitlyn visibly calmed herself. "I'm okay. Thanks Mitch, I wish I could be more level headed and forgiving like you. Are we still on for guitar lessons after school?"

A wave of sadness crashed over me, my brown eyes giving away my feelings – like they always did, damn eyes. Mom always said she could read my eyes like a book. Why couldn't I be a harder book to understand? "Carley is not in the best of condition at the moment," I finally said, embarrassed.

The wheels were turning in Cait's pretty head, realization hit her face. "No way. He hit you with Carley? Mitchie, I can't take this anymore. I can't stand seeing you like this. I'm going to tell someone."

"No Cait," I pleaded, grabbing her arm. "You can't. No one else knows but you. You're the only one I can talk to about this. Just, drop it for now please. You got to believe me."

Caitlyn sighed. "This is the last time I will let it slide though."

I gave her a sad smile saying thank you.

"How about we drop by the record shop after school anyway, I'm sure Jason will be able to tell us if Carley is fixable or not?" suggested Cait.

Feeling happy for the first time that day, I smiled. "Deal."

"Jason!" I called upon entering JJ Records.

"There are my two favorite girls," Jason Mahogany replied, walking towards them with open arms. "A little early for guitar lessons aren't we?"

"We actually have a slight problem."

I gingerly placed my tattered guitar case on the counter. I watched Jason's face as he extracted Carley from her home. His soft face quickly turned hard. As he examined the extent of the damage his boyish features darkened. He pushed his unruly dark curls off his face with force.

I anxiously awaited the verdict. "So?"

Jason's eyes traveled up and down Carley. "This is a slight problem isn't it? She is definitely fixable though. I can't seem to understand how this happened. You're always so careful with her."

"Yeah, let's just say I didn't do that to her."

"Hey J, is Nate around?" wondered Caitlyn curiously.

"Upstairs in the studio," he answered shortly.

"I'm going to go see him."

I rolled my brown eyes –a habit.

No matter how many times she denied it, Caity so had a thing for Nate Black, one of Jason's best friends.

I shook my head slightly turning back to Jason. "So you can fix her?" I asked absentmindedly, letting a finger trail along the neck lovingly. I loved how the strings felt under my fingers.

"I can't, but I have a friend who is a master at this stuff."

Relief flooded me. "Thank you so much Jason. How much do you think it's going to cost?"

"I'm not letting you pay one cent for this repair."

"I don't feel right not giving you anything," I said guiltily.

"How about I have Shane fix her up for free, and you actually write a song?"

"Deal," I laughed. "Wait, Shane who?"

"Shane Gray, he's my other band mate, extremely talented guitarist and singer. He really has a knack for fixing up these babies."

"Oh, I never knew he was in the band."

"Yeah, I know he can come off a little strong or intimidating or whatever it is," Jason said easily, placing Carley back in her home. "But he is a really good person once you get to know him. He just has a hard exterior, just like another person I know."

I blushed as he took a stab at my own issues.

"I'm just playing with you, Mitch. He will have her done in say… two days? Sound good to you? For now, you can borrow one of my guitars for lessons."

"Jason, I can't thank you enough," I gushed zipping up the case. "You're such a life saver."

"I won't regret my decision as long as you write a damn song," he said with a teasing smile.

props to all of you who made it through my short little chapter to this part! you earn three gold stars for making it this now. wanna earn like a hundred more?? click on that little thingy underneath this and you will earn a spot on my wall of insanely amazing people! sounds cool doesnt it? =] i wanna say thanks for taking time out of your busy days to read my story. promise these chapters will become much longer. this was just the first chapter so you can get to meet most of the characters and all that jazz. now im gonna stop yammering on so you can get on with your lives. dont forget - - - clicky thingy. =] bye now!!

i dont own any of the camp rock characters. all the other people you dont recognize are mine. =] thats all!