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` The bus groaned to a halt at the camp entrance, kicking up dust as the brakes squealed. Through the window, the familiar wooden cabins dotted the hillside, the main lodge standing proud at the center.

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` Inside, the air was thick with the smell of old vinyl seats and nervous excitement. Campers pressed their faces to the glass, a chorus of gasps and chatter filling the space.

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` But at the back, a girl sat alone. Two seats to herself, her duffel bag taking up the space beside her. Her headphones were on, but no music played.

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` Outside, the camp director, Lark, stood at the bottom of the steps, clipboard in hand, her smile wide and warm beneath a battered Camp Rock baseball cap.

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` The girl stayed seated. Watching.