Chapter One: First Day, First Lie
The morning sun leaked through white sheer curtains, casting soft golden light across the room like it was trying to gently wake her up — but Elara Blake was already wide awake, lying on her back, staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers.
Her room was a perfect mix of luxury and chaos. On one side, a massive floor-to-ceiling mirror leaned casually against the wall, reflecting a velvet chaise lounge draped with designer dresses, a pair of Christian Louboutins peeking out from underneath. Nearby, an open rack of clothes displayed everything from custom runway pieces to the latest streetwear collabs, all lined up like a boutique.
But the other side of the room? That's where her double life showed. Stacks of books, a half-dead plant on the window sill, posters of old indie bands she secretly loved, and her sketchbook thrown on the floor, still open to a page where she had drawn a girl standing alone in a crowd — a girl who was supposed to be her.
A white desk, cluttered with makeup, jewelry, and half-empty Starbucks cups, sat under a huge pinboard where magazine covers with her face stared back at her.
But none of that mattered today.
Today, she wasn't Elara Blake, Vogue's favorite rising star. Today, she was "Ellie Brown," a nobody, a dork, a normal high schooler.
A knock at the door made her sit up fast, messy waves of her honey-blonde hair falling into her face.
"Elara! Are you up? Don't forget you have—"
"Yeah, yeah! I'm up!" she called back, rubbing her face and sighing.
She glanced at her phone. 8:10 AM. Great.
Her sister, Savannah, burst into the room without waiting for permission, already in her school uniform looking way too excited for someone who actually liked school.
"Are you seriously still in bed? It's your first day, you can't be late! Come on, nerd!" Savannah teased, plopping down on the bed and tossing a pillow at her.
Elara groaned but laughed a little, dragging herself up. "I'm not used to being a 'nerd,' okay? I have to get into character."
Savannah rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, if 'into character' means looking like you hate your life, you're nailing it."
Elara stood and walked to her mirror, eyeing herself. Even with her oversized pajama shirt and sleep-mussed hair, she looked like she belonged on a runway. Perfect skin, high cheekbones, pouty lips — the whole model package.
"Okay," she muttered to herself. "Let's ugly this up."
She grabbed a pair of big round glasses — the kind that were way too large for her face — and shoved her hair into a messy bun, letting random strands stick out awkwardly.
Next came the outfit: baggy jeans, a washed-out hoodie, and old Converse. The kind of look that screamed "don't look at me" — even though people would.
Savannah watched, amused. "Wow, you're really committing to this 'undercover' thing, huh?"
Elara shrugged, grabbing her backpack and stuffing in her sketchbook. "Yeah. If I'm gonna be at a normal school, I wanna know what it's like to not be watched all the time."
"Still don't get why you're doing this. You're literally famous."
Elara paused, suddenly serious. "Exactly. I don't want to be famous in there. I just want to know what it's like to be… someone else for a while."
Savannah stood, adjusting her own uniform. "Well, come on then, 'Ellie.' Let's get going before you back out."
As they headed down the spiral staircase of their house — all glass walls, marble floors, and modern art — Elara felt her heart pounding. She was used to flashing cameras, red carpets, fashion shows in Paris, but this? This was scarier.
High school.
Normal life.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror by the door — the glasses, the baggy hoodie, the slouch in her posture to make herself seem smaller.
"Who are you?" she whispered to herself.
Today, she wasn't sure.
As Elara was about to grab her bag, her phone buzzed — again. This time it was Leah, her ride-or-die, her one true secret keeper, and the only person in the world who knew everything — from the Vogue photoshoots to the panic attacks before red carpet events, to this crazy plan to live a "normal" life.
> Leah: "U up? Tell me you're not chickening out. I'm outside. Get your undercover butt down here."
Elara smiled for the first time that morning, typing back quickly.
> Elara: "Coming. Be ready to save me if I pass out."
Savannah peeked over her shoulder, grinning. "Leah?"
Elara nodded. "Yup. My backup plan if I crash and burn."
"You'll be fine," Savannah said, softer now. "You always are."
Elara wasn't so sure about that.
Grabbing her phone and bag, she headed out the door, Savannah trailing behind. And there, in front of their house, leaning against her old car like she was posing for a teen movie poster, stood Leah.
Leah was the opposite of Elara in all the ways that counted — fiery red hair, loose curls bouncing around her shoulders, sun-kissed freckles, and a fashion sense that was chaotic but somehow worked. She wore a band tee under a denim jacket covered in patches, plaid skirt, and combat boots that had definitely seen better days.
As soon as she saw Elara, Leah let out a low whistle, arms crossed.
"Look at you," she teased. "The queen of runways in a thrift store hoodie. Wow. Who even are you?"
Elara laughed nervously, tugging at the sleeve of her baggy hoodie. "Is it too much? Too obvious?"
Leah snorted. "El, you're literally glowing. Like, no offense, but even if you wore a garbage bag, you'd still look like you stepped off a magazine cover."
Elara groaned, leaning her head on Leah's shoulder dramatically. "So I'm doomed."
Leah rolled her eyes but smiled. "Relax. Just... slouch a little. Don't make eye contact. Say awkward things. Be one of us."
Elara laughed. "Wow, thanks for the confidence boost."
"Hey, I'm just saying," Leah said, nudging her. "You wanted normal? You gotta act normal. High school's messy. People judge fast. If you wanna hide that you're Elara freaking Blake, you'll have to work harder."
Elara took a deep breath, pulling her hood up slightly. "Right. Ellie Brown. Invisible. Got it."
Leah eyed her. "Also, don't forget to text me if anyone tries to be a jerk. I'll show up in the hallway like a superhero — or at least like a chaos goblin with snacks."
Elara laughed, feeling some of the tension ease. Leah had always been her anchor, the one person who didn't care about the fame, who loved her for her.
Savannah, leaning against the door, called out, "You two better go before Mom starts stalking you from the window."
Elara smirked, shooting a peace sign toward her sister, and climbed into the passenger seat of Leah's car — a beat-up blue Toyota with stickers all over the bumper.
As they drove off, music blasting from Leah's playlist — some chill indie band with sad lyrics — Elara watched the world pass by through the window, her reflection half-hidden under the glasses and hoodie.
"You ready?" Leah asked, glancing over at her.
Elara bit her lip, staring at the school coming into view — crowds of teens already gathered in cliques, laughing, shouting, whispering.
"No," she whispered. "But let's do this anyway."
Leah grinned. "That's my girl."
And as they pulled into the lot, Elara's heart hammered against her ribs, because Ellie Brown was about to make her debut — and no one knew the girl behind the mask.