I've met my share of people who could be described as crazy. The Phantom of the Opera shouldn't have been any different. Of course, that would have been easier to deal with, so he was a crazy with the gift of music.

Ariel going along my plan would have been easier, too, but that didn't happen.

Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Ivy Williams, and I don't belong in 19th century France. Or the 19th century at all. Or any time period where they wear corsets. I never want to go to one were they do again – I was breathing weird for a week afterward. How did I end up there, you ask? That's a good question.

I have the ability to travel between universes – the ones where our stories take place. And some of those take place in the past. After I do that, I record myself telling the story and send to somebody who types it out and puts it on the internet. On a fanfiction website. Whatever. No one would believe any of it if they said it was real any how, I guess.

We'd been doing the musical version of Phantom of the Opera at school, so I suppose it was only time before I ended up there. I probably should have thought of that before I let Ariel talk me into replacing a dancer who had to drop out. Too late now.

We had left school after practice and were walking home together. Ariel started recounting something funny that had happened during a rehearsal I had missed while I was gone - you'll find that incident chronicled in the last entry in this series. You don't have to read it - it contains an incident which I would really rather forget.

Apparently, our Phantom, Edward, had been rehearsing "Why So Silent" in costume. He'd had a dramatic entrance on the stairs, which was cut short when he tripped on his cape and fell down several steps. He'd hit someone on the way down, who fell into the next person, knocking them over, and setting off a domino reaction all the way down the staircase we were using for that scene.

"Everyone's okay, right?" I asked when I stopped laughing.

"Oh, yeah. Just a few bumps and bruises. I so envy Christine," she added, partly to herself.

"What?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong – I'm not one of those girls who thinks that his tragic past makes it okay for him to murder people. And I don't really particularly find Gerard Butler attractive – he's not my type."

"But you do find some of the other ones attractive? Ramin Karimloo, maybe? Or the one you're acting opposite to?"

Her cheeks flushed slightly pink. "No comment. But I do envy the fact that Christine got coaching from one of the greatest musicians to ever live."

"Yes, well, she paid for it."

"I'd say it was worth it."

I started to get the strangest feeling in my stomach – a weird tingling.

The world around me spun. Ariel grabbed my arm.

"Not again!" I yelled.

Yeah. Thinking about the story is what triggers my ability and pulls me into it. But only sometimes. I really don't understand how it works, to be honest.

A moment later, I found myself sitting in an old fashioned theater box next to Ariel. Ariel looked strange. I could see her, but she was… flickering. I looked down at my hands to see they were the same, as was the rest of me.

Weird.

I turned to look at the stage. On it was a group of people in colorful costumes. A woman with brown hair stood in the enter of the stage, singing "Think of Me".

I groaned.