Haleybob here! I think it's been long enough since I've worked on anything else but WL or SN. I've decided to write another story, one that I have been thinking on for the longest time but never once wanted to start until my others were completed. To those who've read SN, I'm not finished, but I won't be quiting the writing whatsoever. The story will go on. Anyhoodles, I've been needing to work on something else. So behold! My phan phiction!

I wanted desperately to make something based true to the original novel. It will be based only off so, unless I decide to turn to Susan Kay's Phantom for minor details that aren't stated in the original. The characters are mine, based of myself and a friend. Our names and any other names you'll find non-Phantom have been changed to keep secrecy. Personalities vary, but I assure you, there won't be too much fantasy or phangirling going on. I wanted something fun BUT realistic. So, without further ado...I Want A Refund On My Phantom, Please.

DISCLAIMER: Phantom is not mine, Phantom of the Opera is not mine, but original characters are.

Part One:

The crackly, static filled voice made itself known over the plane's intercom.

"Ladies and gentleman, this is your Captain speaking."

-kkkt-

"Just letting you know that we will be arriving at our destination in a few hours."

-kkkt-

"Please fasten your seat belts as we go through some turbulence."

-kkkt-

"your seat belt light will tell you when it is clear to remove them."

-kkkt-

"Have a great day and thank you for flying European Trip Airlines."

-kkkt-

Groaning I leaned back in my seat, searching lazily for the recline button on the side panel.

"Oh man," I sighed, "Just a few more hours and we'll be in…in…"

My friend sitting next to me, Max, cut in.

"Hell." She said darkly, not looking up from her book.

Phantom by Susan Kay, is our favorite besides the one by Gaston Leroux. You could never beat the original as we always said.

I looked at her, raising an eyebrow. Max never swears though hell technically isn't a curse word….If you use it as a place anyways.

"Okay then," I said, changing tactics, "we'll arrive in Hell. I thought our teacher got the wrong tickets!"

I grinned impishly at her, expecting her to laugh. She didn't and instead she rewarded me with a scowl before flipping the page in her book rather savagely. She had had to get up early this morning to get on the plane, and she wasn't a morning person. Either way, I loved to push her over the edge. Call me suicidal. I leaned close to her, pursing out my pale lips in a fish-like fashion.

"Hey Ms. Grumpy Gills," I cooed right in her ear, using Dory's accent from Finding Nemo. Slowly Max looked at me and gave me a you're-going-to-get-it-later look.

"Emma, I'm not in the mood." She hissed. See? Not a morning person.

Respecting that, I leaned away, cowering for my life.

"You so mean!" I wailed, making my voice go high pitched like a small girl's. "You so mean, Max-san!"

Smack. I never saw the book leave her hands as it came down mercilessly upon my already beaten head.

"I said never call me that!" she fumed as I rubbed my head. "We are not in Japan and I don't like anime!"

I only whimpered in response, thinking how many times we've gone over it. And how many times I forgotten it as well. The thought still made me smile.

"It's not just in anime, Max!" I cried, taking up the usual defense when this subject came up. "It's a term of respect in Japan!"

She raised the book high and I pressed myself up against the wall in hope to avoid her wrath.

"Emma!" she said warningly, "I said no! Only call me Max while we are anywhere else. We're not in Japan and you can't call me that unless we are there!"

I wanted to use my usual annoying response on how we should go to Japan before the red, angry face of our Band instructor made itself known over our seat.

"Jammes! Sorelli!" Mr. Perini bellowed his eyes bloodshot and bugging. "Shut up!"

We both jumped and nodded meekly, muttering a quick, "Sorry, Mr. Perini…." before he got up out of his seat to yell at the other high school students in the back. A vein in his temple, I noted, was ticking in fierce rhythm to his high blood pressure. Of course, I couldn't blame him. But yes, Max Jammes and Emma Sorelli –me– were on a plane to Paris for an once-in-a-lifetime competition with the rest of our school's band, percussion and all. Our instruments were safely being held with the luggage under the plane but somehow our whole band was able to achieve to totally make Mr. Perini and the rest of the non-band passengers go mad with the noise made with no instrumentation whatsoever. Max and I were lucky enough to get seats closer to the exits, that way, if Mr. Perini did go mad, we'd be able to get out first. Clever, non?

Oh, don't get me wrong, it's not that our band is bad.

In playing.

When we want to.

This is never.

We just liked to torture the poor man out of his mind with our still lingering middle school maturity. Even the Seniors enjoyed being stupid now and then. Max sighed and shook her head, muttered under her breath, "Stupid people." I could only full-heartedly agree with her.

"Why is our band the only stupid one?" I complained, glancing to the back of the airplane.

Mr. Perini was yelling up a storm, his face beat red and turning purple. Not the most flattering shade for a mid-forty-year-old man who's balder than the nation's national bird.

"We are one of the best bands in the country, yet we only play well when we're in competitions!" I said sadly.

Max nodded agreeably.

"Yeah," she said gravely, "and the rest of the time is spent making Mr. Perini wishing he was on his death bed."

"That poor man," I murmured. "Well, no time to spend wallowing in misery!" I dug underneath my seat for my blue-crochet knapsack to get my MP3. "Time for some music!" I crowed holding it close.

Max rolled her eyes.

"How are you going to listen to it over the plane's jets?" she asked, "You'd have to turn it up to 29 and blow out your eardrums."

I stared at her in horror and looked at my music player and rose up a fist in anguish.

"Curse you infernal transportation villain!"

My friend patted me on the shoulder in sympathy as I muttered under my breath. Now we were really going to Hell. I told that to Max and she smirked and glanced back at our laughing, jeering, idiotic classmates.

"We'll be lucky if Mr. Perini's heart doesn't give out." She noted. "The percussion girl's giving him some lip again."

I groaned and looked over my seat. Sure enough, there was the black-haired, rather emo looking girl mouthing off to the teacher.

"Good grief," I sighed, "we're never going to get to Paris alive are we, Max?"

She shook her head and went back to her book, reading a passage she let out an embarrassed laugh. I leaned over her shoulder and cackled as well. We loved this part in Phantom when the khanum was threatening to make Erik a eunuch and he asked if a small jar….well if you read it you'll know what I'm talking about.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Thankfully the plane ride went more smoothly once we saw Mr. Perini haul the girl off to the front where our principle, Mr. Beech, was sitting calm as you please. Well, I think he was awake but I heard that he can sleep with his eyes open. Personally I felt sorry for the girl. Our principle was known to burst into a speech about any old thing and think it's encouraging. Meanwhile, Max had finished the book in record time and was currently dabbing at her eyes with her t-shirt as a few tears tried to make a run for it down her face. Yes, even the mighty Max could be swayed by it. You should see us after reading the original. I took up the book as it was my turn and curled up in the corner of my seat to read. Unfortunately, this is where the so-called turbulence started to hit, rocking the plane enough to where our precious book slipped from my grasp.

"No!" I cried despairingly, diving for it as it nestled itself underneath the seat in front of me.

Unfortunately for me, I grabbed a foot and had to make a hasty, mumbled an apology to our other director Mr. Party. Oh, don't be fooled by his last name, he isn't interested in parties; he is only vivacious and very into his other work. This is being the toughest clarinet/saxophone teacher I have ever met. I was amazed that our fingers didn't bleed after each lesson! He was really the only teacher our Band remotely listened to. It was probably because of him that we got practicing in and got as good as we are.

"Be more careful with your…ah…possessions, Miss Sorelli." Mr. Party frowned, his light brown hair brushing into his dark, dark blue eyes.

I swear, from far away his eyes looked all black. It was maddening. Like he'd suddenly grow fangs and bite you, maddening. He's a bit old, but he doesn't have any wrinkles yet. Had he grown out and dyed his hair and changed his wardrobe a bit, he could look like an older rock star. Scary, non?

"S-sorry," I mumbled, trying in vain to sink into my chair.

I don't deal with adults well, they make me nervous. Especially Mr. Party, he was awesome but I always felt silly when talking to him. Another scowl and my instructor turned to face the front again; I let out a sigh of relief. Max looked at me.

"You know, you get into a lot of trouble with your randomness. Be careful okay?"

I sighed and nodded. Must I always be told to be careful?

"Don't worry," I assured her. "It's not like Erik is going to pop out and Punjab me."

Finally, Max laughed.

"You'd like that, though!" she said teasingly.

I laughed too, pleased with my success. Max was a lot more cheery when I got her to laugh. And yes, weirdly enough, I wouldn't mind getting Punjabbed. But only by Erik of course.

How wrong I would find myself to be in only a few short hours.


Reviews would be nice! It's been a long time since I wrote in first person. Second chapter will be updated today as well...if my folks don't drag me off, of course.