See if you can make the connection between this story and a Disney movie we all know and love. I thought the name was a good enough oxymoron.

My One and Only Double Life

Chapter One: Flashforward and How it All Began

Her mouth curved into her cruel smile as her eyes spoke of knowing something I didn't. She wasn't threatened by me like I hoped she was, she was cool…cold. Her perfect features showed no weakness, even when facing the person who knew exactly what her weakness was. Her unruffled indifference to my power over her made me feel powerless.

Her smile widened, she knew exactly what I was thinking.

"How about…" She offered in a tone that implied that she was placating a child, "I let you sing for yourself when you get Shane Grey to kiss you."

Ok, so I'm sure you're wondering what exactly that sentence meant. I mean, how could you not? Well, I am here to tell you exactly how I ended up in a position like this with a girl who might as well be the devil.

It all started on a regular Friday afternoon. I had gotten ready for school that morning like I always do, putting on the conservative clothing my dad likes, and putting my skinny jeans, converses, and rocker tee, that I like in my backpack so I can change at my friend Lewis' house.

Note that I have always been good at leading a double life. It's important.

I went to Lewis', got changed, and we went to school. Senior year isn't so bad, it's almost over (which is a relief). Then, as is customary for Friday afternoon's, I went back to Lewis' house for study hour.

Study hour is the best five hours of my week, mostly because no studying has ever been done during study hour. We call it that for my double life, so my dad won't find out. You see, study hour is more of a jam session.

That's right. I am a musician. Are you surprised? Don't be.

My father is the head of the music department at our local college. He has a Ph.D in musical education, and absolutely abhors rock music, or any modern music really. He says it's because of the lives lead by rock stars. You know the trips in and out of rehab and the divorce office. He says this, but I know the real reason why. My mother ran away with a rock star, and ever since he's hated the lot of them.

Because of this musical heritage I was raised on strictly the classics, learning the piano, and to my dismay violin. But my father also taught me how to sing correctly, and that is what I am truly grateful to him for. I wouldn't have a life if I weren't able to use my voice. My voice is why I have a story to tell at all.

So I was at my friend Lewis' house, and he was helping me work out the bridge of a song I'd been stuck on for weeks.

"Maybe you could switch around those chords and keep the melody the same. It'll give that build up affect." He suggested. He was sitting on his bed with his guitar on his lap. I was at his keyboard.

I began to try what he had suggested when there was a knock at his front door. We both shrugged it off, it wasn't uncommon for his mother to have company.

"…with words on my tongue…" I sang softly as I listened to the chord progression. I didn't notice the footsteps in the hallway, but I most definitely heard Lewis' bedroom door crash open.

I stopped playing and whirled around to the sound. I was absolutely stunned. There stood my father breathing heavily in Lewis' doorway, in a tux of all things…

Then it all clicked in my head. I had a concert tonight. A very important concert tonight. I was such an important part of the concert, and my dad was the conductor of the symphony I was supposed to play first violin for.

I didn't have very much time for this train of thought, because my dad was yelling.

"You have a responsibility! You have to be there every time on the top of your game, because everyone already thinks you got first chair because I'm the director! You have to be there every time!" His breathing continued in uneven heavy gasps. He looked around, and his eyes slowly zeroed in on me, in my obviously not conservative clothing, in a room with my friend who was playing the electric guitar. Things were not looking very good for Areon Stevens just then. (that's me by the way)

"What are you doing?" He asked, angry again. He went on without letting me speak, "Are you doing what I think you're doing? Are you playing that evil music that poisons the soul and only leads you to drugs and sex and…and…blasphemy?" My dad isn't a very religious guy, so he must be running out of answers.

Anger rose in me. I was suddenly asking myself questions I had not had the mind to ask before. Why should I have to hide this from him? He should be proud, and happy for me and what I can do. Why am I hiding at all? My life would be so much easier if I could just live it in the open.

"Yes father." I said in a cold voice that was not my own, "I am playing Satan's music." Now I was mocking him, "And I shouldn't have to hide if from you." I added, "You can't control me."

Yes, I know, not the best idea to bring up the control thing. My dad loves control, it's scary sometimes.

"You are coming with me young lady!" He screeched (yes, he actually screeched), "You are kicked out of the symphony, and you can't hang out with Lewis anymore, and you're throwing away all of those clothes, and you will forget all of this nonsense and come…home." His voice cracked on home. I think he was having a flashback, I think he was remembering when mom left. I hated myself for reminding him of that, but I was still angry at him.

"So you're going to try to control me are you?" I asked angrily, "I don't want to do this, not at all, but I won't go home with you. All you want for me are things I don't want, and you won't let me do what I love." Wow that was harsh, I softened, "Look, just let me have these Friday jam sessions with Lewis. The rest of the week I'll do whatever you want, but I need this. It's a part of me now." I was begging. I hate begging.

His eyes were hard, a wall was hiding all of the hurt I knew was there, "No, I won't allow you to be sucked into this. You'll only get hurt. I won't let you be hurt."

"You don't think this doesn't hurt me? You think making me give up what I love won't hurt me?" I asked.

"It's the lesser of two evils." He stated blankly, he then stepped forward and reached for my arm. I pulled away and backed into Lewis' messy closet.

"No." I said, "I'm old enough to live on my own. Go away."

I am a jerk, but I wasn't about to be repressed. Plus, I'm a teenager and rebellion is inevitable.

He flinched, and for an instance I saw behind his cold brick wall, he was hurt, he was in pain, he was losing someone else. But his cold brick wall returned and he turned around and walked out of the room without a word.

So you know that feeling where you make a rash decision and suddenly realize that it was a bad idea? Yeah, that feeling immediately settled into my stomach as I looked at Lewis' shocked face. Everything had been fine, normal, five minutes ago, and now I was homeless.

"What do I do?" I asked Lewis in horror.

His mouth hung open, and his hazel eyes were wide with shock, "I don't know" He said absently.

I sighed in frustration and plopped down on his bed, grabbing his face, "Think, Lewis! Think! I'm freakin' homeless!"

I successfully got him out of his trance, "You could…" He brushed his curly sand colored hair out of his eyes, "stay here?" He questioned me with his eyes.

I thought, "That could work." I said finally.

He nodded, "I'll go ask my mom."

Luckily for me Lewis' mother loves a scandal so much that she couldn't resist being in the middle of one. So now I had a home, and a bed.

I sighed as I brushed through my long red hair. I was thinking of my father, and the hurt I had seen in his eyes. He could never forgive me for this. I wasn't sure I wanted him to. I wanted to be right, I wanted to prove him wrong. I would prove him wrong.

Sorry, no Shane this time. His name was there, in the same sentence as kiss, so you have much to look forward to! Review!