Before you read my story, I'd like to blame my cousin, Paige, for getting me into this mess. If it weren't for her, none of the story you're about to read would have taken place. I'm not blaming her, technically; rather, I'm saying thank you.

My name is Madelyn Charlene Williams, but people call me Charlie. You see, my friend and I share the same name, so I use my middle name to clear up confusion.

I'm shy. Very, very shy. I'm a bookworm, always reading, I love to dance (I am actually on a competitive dance company with my friend, Hayley, Paige's sister), and, most of all, I love to sing.

But I normally don't sing in public. Once again, I am shy, and being in front of audiences is tedious. Being on a competitive dance company is bad enough, but when I'm on stage, my voice is lost, and all I remember are cues and dance moves.

My story began on a typical winter day, I do believe it was November. I was in school, drama, to be specific. The drama teacher, Mrs. Cook, was in over her head preparing a karaoke night for the school, to raise money for the class. Nobody wanted to sing, and, of course, Hayley knew my abilities.

"Charlie could sing in it, Mrs. Cook," she offered. "She's got a wonderful voice."

The teacher hesitated. Now, I must explain why exactly everyone is hesitating when singing is involved in a conversation.

Our school is haunted. The Junior High Ghost, they call him. Only the Phantom of the Opera fan girls call him that. I am proud to say that I am sort of one of them.

Sort of, only because I fear him. Not many fan girls do.

The Phantom of the Junior High is fabled to live beneath the stage in the auditorium, in the catacombs of the school. Many have ventured beneath, and few have returned. Of course, we always find their bodies one way or another. And each neck is surrounded by a noose. A Punjab lasso, if referring to Phantom of the Opera.

"Let her sing for you, Mrs. Cook," Hayley said.

Mrs. Cook sighed. "Come along, Charlene."

I froze, stage fright overcoming me. Mrs. Cook gestured to the front of the class, where a lone microphone stood in its stand. I took my place in front of it, gulping. The entire class was waiting. The first song that came to mind, ironically, was from The Phantom of the Opera.

Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye

Remember me, once in a while, please promise me you'll try

When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free

If you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me.

The class cheered madly as I curtsied, walking back to Mrs. Cook, who was stunned, muttering something about someone so small containing such a wonderful voice. I blushed, looking away.

Now, all I needed was permission from the Phantom, and I had the job.

A chill entered the room. The lights went out, as if to proclaim the Phantom's presence.

"Brava, Charlene…" the voice, his voice, whispered. My eyes widened. "Beautiful voice… she may sing tonight."

The entire class sighed in relief. Soon, the lights returned, and the chill was gone.

Hayley, Mrs. Cook, and several other classmates got to work on a Christine- like costume. Since I'd be singing Think of Me, they put together a dress similar to the one Emmy Rossum wore in the movie. They even added star shaped barrettes in my hair, curling it to quite an extent, and star shaped dangling earrings, to complete the effect that I was Christine Daae.

That night was definitely nerve wrecking. I stepped onto the stage hesitantly, standing at the microphone, only able to stare in shock at the exceedingly large audience through the curtains. I was alone on the stage; at least, I thought I was.

"Charlene…" his voice whispered. "Relax. You will do fine. They will love your voice. Don't be frightened."

I tensed, deeply afraid of the voice.

"Do not fear me," the Phantom said. "I mean you no harm."

Mrs. Cook pulled me backstage to await my cue. The curtains opened. I walked up to the microphone stand.

"Good luck…" The Phantom's voice was right next to my ear, as if he stood right next to me.

I took a deep breath as the music began. I sang, my voice echoing in the large auditorium. The crown erupted in cheers as I finished the first three verses.

Think of me, think of me waking silent and resigned

Imagine me, trying to hard to put you from my mind

Recall those days, look back on all those times, think of the things we'll never do

There will never be a day when I won't think of you!

The crowd cheered again, as a musical interlude filled the room. A brave student in the auditorium stood up, was handed a microphone, and sang,

Can it be? Can it be Charlene?

Bravo!

Chase! I knew him! Chase, from so many years ago… he brought back memories of living in Illinois, my home state. I'd moved to Arizona with my mom when my parents divorced, never thinking I'd see him again. Yet here he was!

Long ago, it seems so long ago, how young and innocent we were,

She may not remember me, but I remember her…

I smiled, picking up where he left off.

Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade, they have their seasons, so do we

But please promise me that sometimes, you will think…

I began the cadenza, each note clear and, though I hate to brag, wonderful.

O-OOOOooof me!

I curtsied as the curtains closed. Before they closed all the way, I saw Chase make his way out of the rows of seats. I smiled.

"Brava, brava, bravassimia," the Phantom praised. I blushed, hurrying off the stage. Hayley and her older sister, my cousin, Paige (yes, they're my cousins), nearly tackled me as I rounded the corner backstage. I could hear students piling towards the stage to sing something, so I'd stayed out of the way.

"You did very well," Paige said. She handed me a red rose with a black ribbon. "He is pleased with you."

I craned my neck up toward the rafters, looking for some form or figure in the darkness. Paige smiled, leading me to the drama room, then to one of the dressing rooms, then left me to change. I toyed the ribbon on the rose for a minute, setting it on the vanity, smirking when I heard the familiar lines from "Little Lotte".

"Little Lotte, let her mind wander," Chase joked, setting a bouquet of flowers on the vanity. "Little Lotte thought, am I fonder of dolls or of goblins or shoes?"

"Chase," I remarked with a smile.

"Or of riddles or frocks."

"Those picnics in the attic."

"Or of chocolates."

"Father playing the violin."

"As we read to each other, dark stories of the North."

"No," I recited, "what I love best, Lotte said, is when I'm asleep in my bed,

And the Angel of Music sings songs in my head!

The Angel of Music sings songs in my head!

Chase smiled, hugging me. "You sang like an angel tonight." He pulled back, looking me in the eye. "You're not going to tell me your dad sent you the Angel of Music, are you?"

I gasped jokingly. "How did you know?" I asked sarcastically. We both laughed.

"It's good to see you, Lotte," he said. I smiled.

"It's late," I said. "McDonald's?"

He smirked. "You sure haven't changed, Lotte."

"Neither have you, Chase," I said. "Let me change, I'll be right out."

He hugged me again, then left to wait in the hallway outside the drama room.

I picked up my jeans and tank top, walking behind a changing screen. Once changed, I set the dress on the vanity chair. I took out each barrette, moving to take out the earrings when the lights dimmed considerably, leaving me in the dark.

I froze.

Insolent boy, this slave of fashion, basking in your glory!

Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!

I stood up hesitantly. "I'm not going to sing any nonsense about the Angel of Music, because I know you aren't."

The Phantom chuckled. A small bit of light appeared, revealing a door I hadn't seen before.

"Open this door, and you shall know me. Do not, and I shall return you to the boy." The boy. It had hopes as a nickname.

I walked towards the door, resting my hand on the knob.

It opened itself. Standing in the doorway was the Phantom.

He wore an all black tuxedo, save for the white shirt, a black cape, and a white half mask. His dark hair was slicked back, his piercing green eyes reading my expressions, which were mainly stunned, awed, and slightly confused.

I hope you understand what I mean when I say he looked like Gerard Butler's younger brother.

The Phantom held out a gloved hand for me to take.

I considered my options, my hand hovering over his. If I took his hand, where would I go? His home? Or some other mysterious place? If I didn't, and went with Chase, I would forever be curious as to what would happen tonight.

Without a second thought, I took his hand.