3. He's Here!

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Header Art: "Moments before..." By Bananaboo2 on DeviantArt

I peeked through the curtain at the back of Carlotta's dress. She had sung the aria remarkably. Everything was well and peaceful, as the ballet dancers sat in the various chairs or on the floor. They massaged their sore feet before they had to return to the stage. They were in their little alcove off the stage, where the ballerinas waited and prepared for their numbers.

"Think of me"
"Think of me fondly"

I hummed along poorly. I'd never heard the song before today, but the score was beautiful.

My heart caught in my throat, as a crash resounded through the theater, accompanied by the prima donna's bloodcurdling scream.

 "He's here!" Meg jumped from her seat. "The Phantom of the Opera!" She cried.

The other ballet girls clambered out to look from the stage wing.

 "Do you think so?" Christine asked, clinging to Meg's arm.

 "Those are just stories. Let's go see what truly happened." Sylvie led the group to the stage.

 "These things do 'appen?" Carlotta screeched. The heavy wooden backdrop was flat on the ground. "These things keep 'appening!" She ripped out her hairpiece and threw it on the ground. "I'm done with this! You must find a new prima donna!" She gave the last two words a sarcastic finish.

 "Signora! We will never find anyone as talented as you!" André said.

 "Si, si, what shall you do?" She strutted off the stage, leaving the hairpiece stranded. "Somebody get this 'ideous gown off me!"

 "We must cancel now." Firmin looked around desperately, like a new prima donna would appear.

And she did.

 "Christine Daaé could sing it!" Meg stepped up from the crowd. "She's been taking lessons from a great teacher!"

 "A chorus girl? Why in the world would we choose a chorus girl?" Firmin scoffed.

 "Because she's the best chorus girl I've ever heard." Meg said, defiantly stomping a foot.

 "That's not saying much." André and Firmin chuckled amongst themselves.

 "Let her sing. What have we to lose?" André took his top hat off and held it in his hands.

 "A lot if you don't let her."

 "Well? Where is she?" Firmin asked, impatiently tapping a foot.

Meg swirled back to the crowd and pushed out Christine. She exchanged some encouraging whispers with Christine before returning to the sidelines, a proud expression on her face.

The orchestra fluttered to life. Christine stared into the orchestra pit. She picked up her cue and sang. She sang well enough but cracked at some portions, evidently from nerves. Her voice gained confidence, as she kept singing, and by the end, everyone helped in the resounding applause, including the managers, and the chandelier didn't fall.

The rehearsal flew by, and soon, I was sorting costumes for the actual production. I threw them over chairs and desperately tried to keep all the pieces together. I even sewed on a button, and for working in a thread factory, I could hardly get thread through the eye of a needle. I was on fire.

The show came to a close, and my sore legs shook under me threateningly, like they would collapse any minute.

Everybody distributed to their designated halls for the gala, but the last thing I wanted to do was stand for a long time and listen to people lament the loss of their beloved manager I'd only met today. I'd congratulate Christine Daaé to have an alibi and be done with it.

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