Disclaimer: Kiera Cass owns all the characters, not me!

Our Drama teacher was getting excited about the musical. "Listen up, today we'll have a rehearsal and see how that goes, okay?"

Turns out, we didn't do that bad. Everyone stumbled on their lines a bit, but other than that, it went smoothly. Aspen didn't have to fake his discomfort as Raoul when he watched the Phantom try to make Christine fall in love with him.

The only awful part of the musical was "The Point of No Return" scene because Maxon kept touching me, and it involved an awful lot of seducing. I carefully monitored Aspen's face as Maxon pulled me close to him, his breathing labored. Aspen's face was slightly angry and a little disturbed, but he didn't do anything.

During lunch, I motioned Celeste over to come sit with me, which caused mixed responses. Marlee looked happy, while Aspen was the opposite. He sulked quietly the entire time. Kriss complained a little but eventually gave in. The others were welcoming, and Elise even braided Celeste's hair!

Math was better. I breezed through the quiz, Maxon finishing it even before I did. "Hey," he whispered after we passed our quizzes to the teacher.

"Hi?" I say, confused.

"Will you, Mer Singer, got out with me tonight?" Poor Maxon looks like a bundle of nerves.

I grin. "Of course! Why wouldn't I?" I laugh loudly.

The teacher shoots the two of us a glare. "Mer Singer and Maxon Schreave, detention for talking in the middle of a quiz. After school." It was all I could do to keep from laughing.

"So, what do you like to do?" Maxon and I were sitting in an empty classroom, all our detention worksheets laid out and finished. Hey, no one said anything about splitting up the work, right?

He blushed. "I enjoy taking pictures. And, you know…" He trails off.

I raise my eyebrows. "Having sex?"

He blushes again. "I guess. And reading. I love reading." Wow. What a variety of hobbies. "What do you like to do?"

I smile. "Singing. I like singing. Playing the piano, violin, and guitar. Guitar goes well with singing. And eating strawberry tarts." I laugh, thinking of delectable strawberry tarts.

If someone had told me a month ago that I would be sitting in detention with Maxon and making friendly conversation with him, I would laugh in their face. But here I was.

Maxon looks indecisive about something, and finally blurts, "Who was your first kiss?"

It doesn't take me long to remember. "In eighth grade, I went to a party. A drunk stranger," I laugh at the ridiculousness. "Who was yours?"

He frowns. "I don't remember. An eighth-grade party for me, too. I was drunk. And she was a redhead."

I grimace. Who knew we were tied in so many ways? "Oh…"

A bored-looking teacher walks in. "You two can leave now. Your time is up." He collects our worksheets and leaves. Maxon takes my hand and leads me to his car, a flashy orange affair. He's wealthy, too.

"You aren't going to ask about Celeste?" He looks at me curiously.

"No. I found her crying at the fountain. Jeez, I wonder why!" I say sarcastically, angry again.

"I didn't want to continue the relationship. I wanted to be with you," Maxon says earnestly, looking at me.

It made me feel horrible all over again. How long could I keep up this disguise? "Really?" Ever since I became famous, I was terrified of getting into a relationship with someone. Did they want America Singer, the rich and famous pop star, or America Singer, the girl who just wanted to keep her family safe and pursue her dreams?

Maxon's eyes were tender, and his lips were inviting. "Yes, I did. And I still do. I like everything about you, from your charming remarks to your blonde hair." He parks his car and gets out, going to the other side to help me out.

A small tear dripped down my cheek. Here Maxon was, spilling his heart out to me, to a girl that didn't even exist. I swiped at my face and composed myself. I try to smile, forcing my eyes to crinkle. "I might like you too."

The hope on his face is impossible to hide. Maxon leads me to… my own recording studio. I blanch. How was I going to pull this off? I feign confusion. "Where are we?"

"America Singer's recording studio. I never knew that she had a recording studio here, of all places. I thought that you would like to hear her sing because her concert is weeks away."

"Oh, um… you don't have to take me here. Any restaurant or theater would have been fine."

But Maxon is insistent. "No, I already purchased the passes! We have to go."

I smile happily on the outside, but inside I'm crying in desperation. "Wow! I'm excited to hear her sing. I've heard that she's talented."

When we enter the building, I see Silvia standing there with her clipboard. "Mr. Maxon Schreave and Miss Mer Singer?"

Maxon nods politely. "Yes."

I hurriedly gasp, "Err, Maxon, I have to use the restroom…"

He shrugs. "I'll meet you back here, then." I nod, then run to my dressing room.

I find Lucy timidly organizing the room. "Lucy? Lucy! I need you to do something for me." She looks enough like Mer Singer, complete with the blue eyes. I rip the wig off my head. "Here, wear this. There's a boy waiting outside my practice room, pretend that you're a headstrong girl named Mer Singer, and act affectionate towards him. I have to go."

For once, I prepared Lucy. She doesn't exactly look like me, but that was all I had. I raked my hands through my hair and directed her towards Maxon. He embraces her. I can hear him talking. "Mer, you look a little nervous, it's okay…"

I run towards my practice room and attempt to wipe away my nervous sweat. I unpack my guitar in jerky motions. This had to work. Maxon and Lucy enter, hand in hand. Well, more like Maxon was gripping Lucy's hand, while Lucy was totally lost on how to respond. "Hello, Maxon. Pleased to see you again. Who do you have with you?"

He grins softly. "This is Mer Singer." His smile drops once he compares our last names.

Lucy's eyes are scared. "Happy to meet you, Miss Singer."

"Without further ado, I'll start with a song called 'Silent Scream.'" I was silently screaming myself.

Silent Scream – Anna Blue

"I'm caught up in your expectations,

You try to make me live your dream.

But I'm causing you so much frustration,

And you only want the best for me.

You're wanting me to show more interest,

To always keep a big bright smile.

Be that pinky little perfect princess,

But I'm not that type of child.

And the storm is rising inside of me,

Dontcha feel that our worlds collide?

It's getting harder to breathe,

It hurts deep inside.

Just let me be,

Who I am.

It's what you really need to understand,

And I hope so hard for the pain to go away.

And it's torturing me,

But I can't break free.

So I cry and cry but just won't get it out,

The silent scream.

Tell me why you're putting pressure on me,

And every day you cause me harm.

That's the reason why I feel so lonely,

Even though you hold me in your arms.

Wanna put me in a box of glitter,

But I'm just trying to get right out.

And now you're feeling so so bitter,

Because I've let you down.

And the storm is rising inside of me,

Dontcha feel that our worlds collide?

It's getting harder to breathe,

It hurts deep inside.

Just let me be,

Who I am.

It's what you really need to understand,

And I hope so hard for the pain to go away.

And it's torturing me,

But I can't break free.

So I cry and cry but just won't get it out,

The silent scream.

Can't you see,

How I cry for help.

cause you should love me,

Just for being myself.

I drown in an ocean,

Of pain and emotion.

If you don't,

Save me right away.

Just let me be,

Who I am.

It's what you really need to understand,

And I hope so hard for the pain to go away.

And it's torturing me,

But I can't break free.

So I cry and cry but just won't get it out,

The silent scream.

My silent scream."

Lucy and Maxon clap politely when I finish. Maxon, ever the gentleman, compliments, "That was beautiful, A-America." He stumbles a bit saying my name so casually. Lucy, being used to my singing, just smiles at me. Maxon's brows furrow as he whispers in her ear.

Lucy's face turns a little pale from worry and says out loud, "I think Miss Singer already knows my gratitude."

Maxon doesn't even bother to whisper this time. "Mer, are you okay? You're acting a bit strange."

I make a signal at Lucy. Kiss him, it represents. A drop of sweat rolls down her forehead as she turns her head and kisses Maxon squarely on the lips. He seems to melt a little and relaxes, though not all the tension in his body fades away. I feel a claw digging into my heart as I watch them, even though I basically set up the entire thing.

Maxon notices me. "Oh, sorry…I guess I just got carried away. Continue, please."

Feeling sick, I manage to force out a few more songs from my throat. Once I'm done, I motion Lucy to follow me. Maxon, dazed, follows Lucy out. I had to throw him off. I saw the Women's Restroom and darted inside, Lucy right on my heel. I waited for a few moments before slipping into my dressing room.

"Lucy, I don't know how to thank you. You saved my life!"

"Miss, would you be bothered if I asked you why?"

So I spilled. I told everything to Lucy. How I hid behind a wig and a fake identity, how Maxon became attracted to me, how he wanted to take me here for a date. "That's quite a mess you've gotten yourself into," Lucy giggles at last.

"Yeah," I reply distantly, thinking about the oblivious Maxon waiting for me outside the Women's Restroom. Lucy takes off the wig and adjusts it onto my head, tucking every last red strand away. I walk out of the dressing room and walk up to Maxon.

"I'm back!" I grin brightly. He sighs and leads me to his car.

Maxon isn't smiling. "Mer, what happened back at the recording studio? It was like you were another person!"

I knew this was coming. "I honestly have no idea. What did I do?"

But he isn't paying attention. Instead, he flings himself at me, roughly kissing me. And when I look into his eyes and push myself away, I see dark, brooding lust in them. It scares me. "Maxon, stop. Please don't."

Maxon blinks a few times. "Sorry, Mer, I'm so sorry. I don't know what went over me. It won't happen again." And I believe him.

"Where are we going now?"

"A restaurant. I want you to tell me about your life before you came to Angeles High."

When we arrive at the elite French restaurant, I smile at Maxon as he takes me inside. We're brought to a table for two. Maxon looks at me expectantly, and I begin fabricating a few lies.

"Well, as you already know, I had my first kiss in eighth grade. For my freshman and sophomore years, I went to Carolina Province High." I started out truthfully, only lying about the sophomore year part. I had a private tutor for my sophomore year in high school.

"And, let's just say that I wasn't exactly popular in my freshman year. During my sophomore year, I gained popularity. A lot. My singing was a big thing." Well, I was actually bullied in my freshman year. In my sophomore year, I became famous.

"Then, I moved here. Why? Because I wanted to," I joke. "What about you?"

Maxon scratches his neck, uncomfortable. "I also had my first kiss during eighth grade, with a pretty girl who had red hair. And that very same year, my mother wanted us to move from Carolina to Avalon for a quiet life. So, we did. And I've been at Avalon High ever since. During my freshman year, I attracted a girl named Bariel Pratt, who was here on vacation.

"Well, after she left, I started rapidly dating girls. I couldn't find one that liked me beyond my looks and popularity. Did they even know that I like photography? No. And soon, I found that I just couldn't commit to anyone. I began using them for myself, to take my mind off issues at home. But I plan to stop doing that."

My mind was reeling. He knew Bariel? And dated her? "How many girls have you dated before?"

A childish, troubled look takes over Maxon's face. "I don't know… somewhere between fifty and a hundred."

I blanch. He continues, "I noticed that you and the America Singer have the same last names. Any connections?"

"Err, no…. why would you think that?"

He squints at me. "You two also have the same eyes. Ice-blue."

I decide to joke. "I don't know, maybe I'll be the next America Singer?"

Maxon looks at me intently. "I don't care. I like you better than America Singer, anyways." He leans down and kisses me softly. But I can't focus on the astounding smell of his cologne or the sweetness of his lips. Instead, his words replay over and over again in my head. I like you better than America Singer, anyways. What would he do when he found that we were the same?

"What makes me better than America Singer?" I just had to know.

"For one, you're always sarcastic and joking. When I'm with her, everything she does seems fake."

As I lay in bed that night, I kept tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Fake. That was what I was. America wasn't a disguise I had to wear. She was the real me. But Mer Singer? She didn't exist. She was fake. And forever would be.