I sit in my small room near the back of the opera. No one comes back here unless they are coming to see me. I like it that way. It is quiet, peaceful. Monsieur Lefevre promised me a long time ago that he would take care of me. Now I work as one of the best seamstresses in the entire Opera.

As I sit I dig through my numerous patterns. Madame Giry has demanded new gowns for every girl in the chorus. I still don't know why this gala is so important, but I never argue with Madame.

A quiet knock sounds on my door and a moment later it opens. I look up to see Gavroche. Gav and I have grown up together for the past nine years. Though we are not truly related, we are closer than many siblings. He looks around my room. I have never been neat. Every possible surface is cluttered with patterns, papers, sketches, thread, needles and fabric. Gav sighs. "We need to hire you your own personal housekeeper." I wrinkle my face at him and shake my head sternly. Lord knows the last thing I want is constant company.

Gav sits down on the floor next to me and crosses his legs. I smile. "What?" he asks. "There's no place else to sit in here." My smile widens and I shrug at him. He smiles back. "Still working on Madame's gowns?" he asks me. I nod and roll my eyes. Gav takes special time out of his day to see me. He works with the stage crew moving sets. No one admits it, but he is the best stage hand in the theater.

Gav and I sit for a while. He fills me in on all the theater gossip while I stitch away at a rose pink gown. I listen eagerly, nodding here, smiling there. The door is open and Gav's story floats down the hall. His voice captures my full attention and I don't hear Monsieur Lefevre's approach until he is standing in the doorway. Gav stops talking and smiles. I set aside my sewing and rush to hug him.

Monsieur Lefevre has been a father to Gavroche and me since we arrived here nine years ago. Gav got here a few months before I did. Monsieur found me on the stairs frozen half to death and brought me inside. He and Gav nursed me to health. When I finally woke Gav was the one beside me. He told me how I had been found and who Monsieur was. When Monsieur returned he had smiled and thanked God I was awake. He told me I had been unconscious for almost four days.

For a time Gav and I stayed in Monsieur's personal rooms. We never left. For weeks Monsieur and Gav tried to coax words out of me. I never uttered a sound. I fear they gave up on me after a while. It was not until one evening while Monsieur was working through a pile of important documents that Gav and I found a way for me to communicate.

Gav was asking questions again, knowing I would not answer when Monsieur dropped a paper off his desk. I caught it. It was blank. Gav smiled and handed me a quill while Monsieur gave me some ink. "Draw something pretty, angel," he said to me warmly. They both called me angel because they did not know my name.

I did not draw. Instead I wrote in perfect lettering, "My name is Tess". I gave my paper to Gav because Monsieur was not paying attention to me.

"Pere, Pere!" Gav called. We called Monsieur father even though he was not. Monsieur looked at Gav curiously, for he rarely spoke loudly. Gavroche handed my paper to Monsieur who read the words.

"You write?" he asked me. I nodded with a smile. "What else do you do, child?" he asked eagerly. I took my paper back and answered. Thus it was I became a seamstress and began to settle in at the Opera.

It is strange to me that Monsieur does not hug me back. Only as I step back do I notice the sadness in his eyes, the slope of his shoulders as if the whole world sat upon them. Gav must notice too because he asks, "Pere, what is wrong?"

Monsieur sits down on the sofa in my room, ignoring the patterns he is crushing.

"They are replacing me." he says quietly.

For several moments Gav and I do not move. We finally look at each other. I see my own fear mirrored in Gavroche's eyes.

"Surely you can't be serious," Gav says. He is almost begging. Monsieur meets his gaze.

"I'm so sorry, lad. I am. I am costing the theater too much money they say. It is to be put in more capable hands."

I feel the tears welling in my eyes long before they start falling down my face. He can't leave. He can't. He promised me he would never leave me behind. Gav is the one to wrap his arms around my shoulders. It is Gav who voices my fears.

"What will happen to us?" he asks. It is a fair question. Gav is only eighteen. There are many stronger men in the stage crew, though I doubt many are more capable. And as for me, I am silent. What use does a theater have for a silent, sixteen year old girl? I can sew, but so do many others. What chance do we have on our own.

Monsieur does not answer right away and my fears take root. At last he says, "Madame Giry has promised to put in a good word for you both." He stands stiffly. "I just came from her apartments. No one else knows yet. I will be announcing it at the gala."

"If we still have a gala," Gav says. A hint of annoyance is in his voice. I do not blame him. In truth it is not Monsieur costing the theater money. It is our leading ladies. Carlotta is off once again to who knows where. She had yet another row with Monsieur Reyer. No one knows where Christine disappears to either. Some say she goes to see the phantom, though I know that is not the truth. I hear many things no one else does. They know I will not tell a soul what they say. Christine has said to me many times that she hates the Phantom though she has never told me where it is she goes.

"We fill have a gala if I have to sing the entire production myself," Monsieur announces. "Tess will play the organ for me, won't you my dear?" I smile at him encouragingly. He is trying so hard to make this easier. I move my hands as if I were playing for him. He nods at me. "That's my good girl." He sighs deeply. "I suppose I should return to the office. There are a few things I must see to before the new managers arrive. Do your best to be useful."

"We will make sure the place shines," Gav promises. I nod my agreement. Our poor Pere I can't help thinking as Monsieur walks out my door. Gav does not continue his story. Neither of us feels like laughing anymore. After a few moments he too takes his leave. I return to my sewing. Madame must be satisfied. I need her on our side.