Edward here now.
I woke up the next morning to someone pounding on the door of the room I was sleeping in.
"Who is it?" I yelled.
"Madame Giry."
What could she want?
I got up and opened the door. "Have I done something wrong, Madame?"
"I want to talk to you about Meg."
"You have spent a lot of time with my daughter, Meg. I want to know exactly what your relationship with her is."
This concern coming from the woman who's been using her daughter's body as a bargaining chip for ten years? "We dance together, Madame Giry. We go swimming. Occasionally, we have coffee afterwards. That's all." She's not so much older than me, but she's a bit too old for me to be interested in her.
"Meg does not need anything distracting her from her career. Or her… other purposes in life."
"If I'm that, Madame, it's not my intention, let me assure you."
"You were with her last night. Where did you go?"
"Swimming, Madame. After that, we had coffee. We talked. I returned here, and as far as I know, she returned to you. I know nothing beyond that."
"I see." She didn't seem to believe me. "Are you sure that your relationship with her is just what you said?"
"Yes, Madame." I'm eighteen, by the way. I may not have been entirely truthful about my age when I signed up - I may have added on five or six years.
"All right. I will leave it that way for now."
The rest of the morning was normal. We rehearsed for Meg's songs the next night, which was closing night. I wasn't doing "Bathing Beauty" - I couldn't do the lift because my arm was badly sprained from an accident a few days before.
The de Chagnies arrived in the middle of practice, with Gustave running onstage and right into me.
"Oh, pardon," said Gustave.
"That's okay," I said.
He stared at me in confusion for a moment.
It suddenly occurred to me that we were in America, and the de Chagnies were French. Therefore, Gustave spoke French, not English. I'd never thought of that before.
"I'm sorry," said Sierra Boggess/Christine de Chagny, stepping forward. She had a heavy French accent.
I almost regretted not brushing up on my French once in a while. Almost.
"It's all right, Madame de Chagny," I replied.
She went off to tend to Gustave.
"Edward?"
Meg walked over to me, wearing a bathing suit. "Be honest – how do I look?"
"You look… very nice." What else do you say?
She lowered her voice a little. "Do you think the routine's a bit… free?"
"If you have to ask me, Meg, I think you already know the answer yourself."
"Excuse me, Miss, do you mind?" asked Madame de Chagny.
Meg turned and, I have no doubt, completely forgot about me.
I moved away and allowed them to start their song.
There's something unnerving about being in a musical. People breaking into song around you… it's weird.
"Edward?"
A voice behind me caused me to spin around. "Ariel?"
She looked terrific. I'd never seen her look happier – or paler, either. Must have been from the lack of sunlight in Erik's home.
Ariel didn't even miss a beat. She threw her arms around my neck. "My dear old friend, can't believe you're here, old friend. However did you come?" Right on the tune. Creepy.
And before I knew what to do, I was singing too. "I came with you."
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Just what I said."
She went pale. "Edward!" She wasn't singing anymore. "I forgot, I hit my head in a fall, I'm so sorry, I can't believe it." There was an awkward pause between us. "How've you been?" asked Ariel.
The look of horror on her face made it impossible for me not to forgive her. "I've been doing well. I've found a place to stay here, as a dancer."
"You never told me you could dance," said Ariel. She still looked upset about forgetting.
"Everyone made fun of me, so I stopped, but I kept what I had in my memory."
"Good for you." She didn't quite look me in the eye.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Meg eyeing us with… was that jealousy?
