Chapter 1

As always, the first chapter of my new story, which will be updated upon request. Unlike every other modern Cinderella stories, this one happened in real life. No one ever thought it was a big deal, but it was to her. She kept quiet and kept her mask on for so long it feels real. Is there ever a good time to show the world who you really are? Clace, Sizzy, some Malec, you know the drill.

This story is Rated T until further notice, I might change it, I might not, depends on what I feel like writing.

If you haven't yet, I have other stories that have been updated recently and could some love from my readers. Enjoy reading, even though the weather is kind of getting nice out – maybe I jinxed it, that is Nebraska for you.

Characters belong to Cassie Clare.

Clary POV

"I love that," I commented honestly. "Writing a new song can be so draining and stressful by yourself. Thank you for taking the time to help me."

"Anytime Clary," Simon said back.

Whenever I get major writers block or need some company from someone my own age, I always call my best friend. He's the only one that knows the real me and loves me anyways. Although he never wanted me to perform under an alias, and we fought for a couple weeks on it, he still stuck around. It means the world to me.

We heard a knock on my dressing room door and I panicked. We always lock the door when I don't have my wig on for precaution. It came in handy this time as I struggled to find my hair on the floor. Simon waited for the long Blonde hair to completely cover my own before unlocking and answering the door.

"Can I help you," he said plainly. He doesn't wear a wig or anything but no one's ever been interested in him before. He keeps out of the cameras and his name out of the paparazzi, so we don't make him cover up.

"The backstage passes have been checked and approved," my stage manager replied. Simon opened the door further so I could be seen.

"Allow me a moment to take this robe off and find my shoes," I said professionally. He spoke into the radio set attacked to him and waited in the doorway.

I unwrapped my robe and hung it on it's sparkly silver hook. I checked the mirror and saw a chunk of red hair through my wig. I adjusted it accordingly and used a bobby pin to keep it hidden. Then my least favorite part, I slid my feet into 6-inch heels that matched my first outfit for tonight's concert. All sparkles and glitter everywhere.

I put on a fresh layer of mascara and bright red lipstick. I wish I could wear this lipstick without being Riza Fairchild, it would match my red hair so perfectly. Unfortunately, this is my signature color, wearing it outside of matching it with this wig could give me away, it's too dangerous.

"Ready," I said turning away from the mirror and to the door. Simon nodded and a security guard came with the first group.

Group after group was the exact same.

I introduce myself as Riza Fairchild, shake their hands, take some selfies, offer them goodie bags for coming to see me, and forget their names as they leave when time is up.

Simon looks just as bored as always, sitting in the back corner on a chair in case I need help with anything. I notice his eyes are no longer glued on his phone but on the door in front of us. His expression changes in the matter of seconds. His eyes bug out and I swore I saw drool, then he looked desperate, followed by shock, fear, and then he looks at me.

He's standing next to me in a second taking a selfie of us on his phone. I glance over to the door finally and see what he means.

Isabelle Lightwood. But she's not alone either, there's a group of them.

"Shit," I say to him, trying to cover my face better. "They'll recognize me!" I whipsper yell at him.

"You'll be fine, I'll play it off," he mumbles as the camera flashes.

"Thank you so much," he says all excited and fake. It makes me smile to watch how bad his acting is. "My best friend would never believe that I actually met Riza Fairchild."

"No biggy," I say before dismissing him. He made it halfway out the door before they noticed.

"Simon Lewis?" Isabelle asks him. She looks between the two of us but I make myself busy with their gift bags.

"I almost forgot," I said plastering a fake smile on my lips. This is a disaster. "Here's your goodie bag, it was great to meet you."

I handed Simon a goodie bag and he panicked slightly.

"I'll figure something out," I whispered as he thanked me for my time and shut the door behind him.

"He goes to our school," Isabelle says again, this time slightly more excited. She waives a perfectly manicured hand in the air and gestures for the rest of the group behind her to move up. Always the ring leader, somethings never change.

"Nice kid," I commented. "Wanted a picture for his best friend."

"Clarissa Morgenstern?" One of the boys said from behind her. "Isn't she that weirdo that never goes to anything and is crazy into art."

It took everything in power to keep my award-winning poker face on.

"She's hot though," another one commented.

"Can I get a picture with you," Isabelle asked while more of her group started making fun of me.

"Yup," I said quietly. "I take it their not fans?"

"They are," she said taking out her phone and putting it on camera mode. "They just won't admit it."

I flashed a perfect smile and thanked her for taking the time to see me. I took a few more pictures and shook a could more hands before I saw the rest of the boys.

"You can't touch that," I said stubbornly. His eyes shot around to meet mine and I instantly wanted to die.

Jace Herondale.

"Sorry," he said putting my varsity letterman jacket back on the hook.

Shit, he recognizes it. How could you be so stupid?

"Is that yours? It's an awfully small size," he said grinning back to me.

"Yeah, why?" I answered crossing my arms.

"It's a letterman jacket from St. Xavier's," he said flashing teeth this time in his grin. "I have one just like it."

There was murmurs from around the room and I knew he was getting too close. I gulped down the panic that started to rise and finger combed my hair a couple times, a nervous habit I should really shake.

"Do you go to St. Xaviers?" One of the blondes in the background says stupidly. The boys all glared at her before she caught on.

"If Riza Fairchild went to school with us, don't you think we would know," Isabelle said back to her a little mean. But hey, it got her to shut up.

"Or you know someone that goes there," Jace said taking a step up to me.

"Well-, I ," I tried to say but I don't think a lie is going to work here. "Yes, I know some people that go there." I gave in.

Before anyone could question me or beg me to tell them more, there was a knock on the door.

"Times up," the security guard said nodding to me.

They filed out until all that remained was Jace and Isabelle.

"Isabelle, Jace," I said dismissing them. "Nice to meet you, please take the rest of the goodie bags as a thank you for taking the time to meet me."

"Bye, nice to meet you," Isabelle said waiving one last time. Jace just stared at me intently. "Jace, come on," she tried but his arms were crossed and he was studying me.

I gave him a determined glare and he took another step forward.

"I never introduced myself," he said. I started to panic again and Isabelle was now paying attention.

"We're a goodie bag short," Isabelle finally noticed after passing them to the rest of the group that was already out of the room.

"My apologies," I said trying to come up with something new. "I'm sure I can come up with something better than a goodie bag to thank you for your time, don't you think Isabelle?"

"Yes," she said excitedly.

I took a pair of brand new earrings from my personal collection, hoops that I usually only wear on stage that are glittered to match my dress perfectly.

Isabelle screamed and Jace kept staring at me like he could see right through to the real me. The real me that he makes fun of in school. The real me that would rather stay quiet in the back than dare challenge a Lightwood. I adjusted my shoulders and watched as he took the last remaining goodie bag.

"I must have quiet the reputation that 'Riza Fairchild' knows me from "friends"," he said with air quotes.

"Quite the reputation," I agreed formally, trying to get him to leave.

"Or," he said in a hushed tone. "You're not who you say you are."