Camp Rock.2 -

“I’m fishing for chords,” Mitchie said. “The lake’s got good ones today.”

Mitchie felt a flash of anger, then let it go. “Rosa, when you first came here two years ago, what did you love to sing?”

“Final Jam rules,” Mitchie announced, “are changing. No covers. No sheet music. You play what you feel. You play what’s yours.” camp rock.2

“I don’t remember—”

“Hey,” Mitchie said softly, sitting on the log beside her. “You okay?” “I’m fishing for chords,” Mitchie said

They were the ones you got to keep living.

“Easy for you to say. You’ve written, like, a hundred songs.” “I’m fishing for chords

“That’s the song,” Mitchie whispered. “Not the polished one. This one.” The next morning, Mitchie called an all-camp meeting. Liam stood at the back, arms crossed.