The lessons soon progressed to the point where if my Teacher would speak, I could understand most, if not all that he said. Then again, he was very adamant in speaking in French and only in French while he explained the drawings on the flashcards he would leave me in the deserted room we began to have lessons in.

When I went to go find the usual cards, I found new ones. This meant that we were going to have a review, then dive straight into these. I faintly wondered when he would begin teaching me how to structure them into sentences. Then again, I was learing just by listening to him. He would explain that there were feminine and masculine variations. For example, if the word had anything from '-d', '-et', or '-oir', it was masculine. If it had '-ace', '-ance', or '-esse', it was feminine. And those are just a few of them that I'd learn since beginning my lessons almost a month ago.

As I wracked my brain for what I'd learned the week before, I began to hum as I went over the words, pointing at the floor as I went over them out loud. I'd only remember about ten out of the twenty he wanted me to have in my memory. Darn it, he'd be angry with me but I trying. I told him I was trying. When I didn't have to meet him, I'd be in this very room practicing or if I was with Alfred I was practicing.

After I'd gone over what I'd most likely need to say to Teacher, I looked out of the tiny window on the far right and sighed. He'd be here just before the sun would set but today he was late. It was completely pitch black aside from the candles that burned outside on the streets.

It was an hour later (thanks to clock in the next room over ringing) that I found myself tucking the new cards away. I have no idea what had happened but Teacher never showed up. I felt myself wanting to cry in frustration. I had nothing else in this time besides painting the backdrops and my lessons. Now it seemed like I have nothing. Yet I knew I was just being over-dramatic because my daily schedule had been messed with.

Heading down to the kitchens, I found myself sulking as I ate a luke warm bowl of the last bit of soup and bread. Tomorrow would be Monday, I mused as I dunked my usual stale piece of bread into the soup. We'd be going out to the market in the morning. I think I would buy a few non-perishable items and tuck it under Alfred and mines bed so that we could have something eat other than the watery soups we had.

Sighing, I took my bowl to the wash basin to clean it up. It was then that I heard something so beautiful that I almost dropped the soapy bowl and spoon. Eyes wide, I cocked my head to the side in an attempt to hear what I was hearing. It was so faint but so clear... Setting the bowl down, I wipes my hands dry before heading towards the sound.

Which now as I became closer, I found it coming from the little chapel in the bowels of the Opera house. As I padded my way down I stopped short so that I could listen. The voice was clear, it was feminine, and it was so, so beautiful, but there seemed to be one flaw. There was no emotion. It was all mechanical. I couldn't process why someone would hold back so much that they could like that but sound so... so eh.

Sitting down onto the stairs, I listened until something made me gasp.

At some point a male voice entered the singing, urging her to let go. To feel the music, to feel the song she was singing.

And I felt like crying.

It was Teacher.

It was my teacher and I knew it was him because his voice sounded like the sun rising and the moon dancing and- and I numbly lifted myself up so that I could stagger my way back to somewhere that wasn't that damn chapel.

I found myself walking into the auditorium. It was dark save a few candles lighting the walls. No one was there either. Walking over to the stage, I hoisted myself up so I could sit at the edge like I usually did on my breaks. I felt bitter for being ditched for something and someone who was obviously more interesting. I also felt... sad. And bitter.

But mostly I felt jealousy bubble inside of me as I stared up at the chandelier.

Why was I jealous though? I couldn't understand it. There was no reason for my jealousy but I thought... He was still my frie- teacher, right? Teacher wasn't just going to forget about me because of this new girl, right?

Right?

Paranoia thick, making my chest grow tight at the prospect of Teacher leaving me for someone else - someone who was beautiful - I began to sing another song from my own time even though I knew it was a terrible idea.

As I began, I tried to envision the tune in my head as I sung and by the time I'd gotten to the end,

"Oooo- oooo- oooo,
A little bit of rainfall to wash you clean
And a little bit of bluesky to make life green
Every little mayflower envys you
There's a little bit of sunshine, in all you do..."

I felt a little better. I felt grateful that I could remember a few of the songs from home that I knew made me feel better. When I finished the last 'oooo' bit, I stood back up to make my way into the back behind the curtains. I wanted to get one more look at my almost-finished backdrop for the next show. Plus, I figured I could admire my handiwork to take my mind off of my useless emotions.

"You were not there," suddenly came the voice, irritation evident. I could pinpoint it to the prop on the other side of the room. "I told you to wait for me!"

I scoffed as I walked closer to my backdrop, smoothing a hand over a part I knew to be dry in the dim lighting of the candles in the back, "And? You didn't even show up! I waited an hour, Teacher. An. Hour. So don't you even pull that on me!"

There was silence for a moment. "I-," and then a scoff as if he'd figured something out. "I apologize. I had... other things to tend to."

"I'm sure," I bit back the bitterness that threatened to bleed into my voice.

"Yes, we will continue our lessons tomorrow but they will be later," came the reply. "Eight o'clock."

"Alright, I can do that but if you ditch me again I'll make sure to make your life difficult!" I point to where the voice seemed to be coming from this time only to almost fall on my ass in shock.

There, on the catwalk, seemed to float a bone white portion of a mask in the dark.

xxxx

A/N: The song used in this chapter is by Perrin Lamb.