The island was in celebration; they had decorated the lagoon as a dance floor with sea shells and—well. That was really the only thing they could do with a beach on a deserted island.

Yes: they were celebrating Eric's disappearance. With a masquerade.

They simply dug into the trunk of costumes, courtesy of Izzy's parents. Stephanie and Gino salvaged an old record player, something only the adults knew how to operate, and placed it well away from the tide.

The table, back at the clearing in-between huts, was lined with fruits and fish, and some roots. Not all vegetables. Freshwater from a well. And coconut milk. It was there for when anybody got hungry.

There was happiness throughout the entire island; even the sarcastic ones were making fools of themselves. Simply because they needed the fun.

Most of the girls just had on dresses; Stephanie had on a Gothic 1800s dress (which she happily grabbed, having almost no black clothing in a while to Marge's pleasure), and the black mask to go along with it. Maggie had taken an ocean blue costume, much like Stephanie's. She hand-made her mask out of some shells, feathers, and very strong tree sap.

The men had taken on Victorian clothing, aside from Mel. He had on a Zorro costume. Cecil had the Hamlet costume on, a plain navy blue mask to carry around. Gino had on a Victorian tuxedo.

Mel and Cecil were the last ones to get into their costumes. They met each other outside their huts.

"Ah, Zorro!" Cecil laughed.

Mel bowed, stifling laughter, "Hamlet, Hamlet!"

Both walked together, "Oh, Melvin what a splendid party!"

"Prologue to a bright new start!"

"What a job, I'm impressed."

"Well, the girls did their best!"

"Here's to them!" Both gave a toast with coconut milk.

Cecil threw his cup into the bushes (technically, it is recycling), "That toast for all the island-"

"Such a shame that Eric boy didn't show us his boat!"

They arrived at the lagoon. Everyone cheered, and started singing, "Masquerade! Paper faces of parade! Masquerade, show your face so the world will hopefully find us! Masquerade! Every face a different shade! Look around, there's another mask behind you."

Isabella sighed happily, "What a night!"

"What a crowd!" Mel took Marge to dance.

"Makes you glad," Gino took Maggie.

Cecil watched everybody else, "Makes you proud."

Stephanie grinned. "You're watching us, we're watching you."

Maggie giggled when Gino spun her, "No more notes."

"No more ghosts!" They picked up where they left off in Salsiccia, spinning around.

They left the others, who were busy singing, while they went to the table. The last thing Maggie heard was, "And what a masquerade!" From Marge.

They stopped spinning. Maggie giggled. "Think of it! A secret relationship!"

"Sh! Don't let anybody else hear about it!"

"I know. But why can't we tell them?"

"Because of we do, and we get rescued, then they'll make sure I won't even be able to join Papa the next time he—"

"Tries to kill my brother? Momma once told me, revenge makes you as bad as the person you're getting revenge on. But I don't agree with her."

"Ha!" He started twirling her around the table, "Why not? Like the taste too much?"

"Yeah. When Mr. Burns—that evil twisted billionaire in town—made the entire town miserable, and he tried to take candy from me, I shot him when his gun landed on me."

Gino stopped twirling her. He stared at Maggie wide-eyed. "Y-you did what?"

"I shot him," she started giggling, "And everybody thought it was an accident! Technically it was, since his gun went off like that, but I was still holding it!"

He stared at her a moment more before embracing Maggie into a hug. "I love you!"

She returned the hug, "Please don't tell them."

"Maggie, what are you afraid of?"

She took his hand, leading him back to the lagoon, "Let's not argue. Please pretend, you will understand in time."

"I can only hope I'll understand in time…"

They arrived just as everyone made the big finale. Excluding Stephanie, who was standing to the side laughing. Though they all joined together again when the cue came in, "Masquerade!"

They all even followed the dance steps, only without the staircase, "Paper faces of parade! Masquerade, show your face so the world will hopefully find us! Masquerade! Grinning yellows, spinning reds! Masquerade, take your fill. Let the spectacle astound you—"

Everybody cried out when Eric came out of the shadows of the brush.

The men stepped up front. The women got behind them. Stephanie got behind all of them.

He was wearing what he usually did, only fresh palm leaves. A little orange flower in his hair. In any other circumstance, Stephanie would've laughed at this.

He took a step forward. "Ah, castaways. Why—" He took a step forward with each step, the men and Marge stepping up front, "so—silent? Have you missed me, good castaways?"

He stopped three paces away from the huddled group, sharply turning to Mel and Cecil, "You two must learn not to take the women for granted." He spun to Isabella, "The stage, my dear, is not meant to be strutted around on by a four-year-old!"

"Jackass!"

Despite herself, Stephanie laughed, then tried unsuccessfully to stifle it. Cecil's eye went up in shock.

Eric smirked, facing Gino and Maggie, "Ah, young lovers. Secrets come at a price, younglings."

"So does stalking," Maggie stuck her tongue out at him.

He turned to Marge. "A woman should not be too hasty as to declare Romeo and Juliet apart. Especially when Romeo is listening." He spoke through his teeth on the last note.

Then, unable to hold her laughter anymore, Stephanie leaned on Marge, giggling.

Eric waited until she was done. "Stephanie."

"Romeo and Juliet? The only good thing going for you right now, buddy, is your better English. We finally understand you now. And nice appearance. Makes you look like a first-class ape-boy."

He scowled, pushing aside Marge with his freakishly strong arms and going right up to her. "Ape MAN! You wanna go down that road?"

"Will it get you to leave?"

"NO!" He swiped her mask off her face, making her jump back. "It was ME who guided you to your voice!"

"Technically, it was Mom. She was the one who taught me how to talk," She gave a half-smile, knowing this was getting on him.

"I deserve credit for your singing voice! You belong to ME!"

With that, he leapt into the trees with her mask, howling.

Everybody stared.

"So he came here to steal my mask? Such a gentleman."

"We need to get you outta here!" Marge took her by the shoulders, taking a step towards the forest, then faced Gino and Maggie. "Young lovers?!"

Both began to chuckle nervously, looked down at their held hands, and let go of one another.

Stephanie looked at the men, "What did he mean by 'don't take the women for granted?'"

"Eh . . . yes, about that . . ." Mel scratched the back of his head, Cecil took a couple of steps back. "We were simply stating how much we appreciated you doing all of this. Decorating, I mean."

"And cooking that feast," Cecil added. He shrugged, "That was it. We toasted to you all before coming out here, and nothing was really said or acted against you."

Marge shook her head, "Never mind! I'll deal with it later. Stephanie, no arguments—you are coming with me!"

"I wasn't arguing with you. Just release the death-grip and I'll follow peacefully." She tugged her arm out of Marge's tight grasp.

"Sorry. But we need to get you to safety, like a cave somewhere, or one of us can guard your hut, or—hrmmmm." She ran her hands through her hair (that was in the beehive style we all know her for, but shorter).

"Mom, c'mon. This is just like a typical situation with Bob, we always come out on top and always will. Like a typical movie-cliché, good always wins and evil sucks. No offense or anything," She gave Cecil and Gino a look.

Cecil had his arms crossed, "None taken."

They went back to the huts without another word.

It wasn't until the early, early morning that I dared go outside. I smirked at the sight of Mel softly snoring outside my hut; he was supposed to be "guarding" me. I personally don't see why. I know how to get my way outta a pretty bad situation, including when some ape-kid tries to take me.

I just hope we get rescued without him hitching a ride.

I started thinking about my family. How Bart sounded the last time I heard from him on the radio, how Lisa sounded so disheartened, how dad . . . god. And then my friends. I wonder what Tasha thought about our disappearance. All of my friends. Hoping everybody felt for us, that she especially wasn't messed up about it.

Then again, I know her. She's probably acting the same as I am: hopeful, but not teary-eyed.

Never teary-eyed. No teenager likes to cry, but no teenager hates to cry as much as I do. Same with Tasha, and therefore we're both fine and sane. Sort of. Her maybe, I'm going hard and fast.

I had wandered onto the lagoon beach now. Waves gently lapped at the sand, and a light breeze made the palm trees sway. I had purposely dressed in my bathing suit, a midnight swim was exactly what I needed right now.

Hopefully Jaws wouldn't make my week even worse by eating me.

The water was warmer than it usually was in the daytime. I swam to the small waterfall that was at the very end of the lagoon, leaning back and letting the water fall over my hair.

Once again, it relaxed me.

My thoughts wandered to my family. With Phantom on my mind, and being half-asleep, I began to sing, "You were all my friends and family.

"You were almost all that mattered.

I thought of dad. How he was so gullible, how I totally took advantage of that when I was little, how despite his . . . Homerness he always pulled through for his family. Even when the EPA trapped Springfield in the giant glass dome because of him, we were also saved by him. And I guess I do love him in that Simpson way.

Don't expect that to be repeated out loud unless he's on his death bed.

"You were once a friend and father.

"And then our worlds were scattered.

I started kicking to the other side of the lagoon, but slowly. "Wishing you were somehow here again.

"Wishing we were somehow near.

"Sometimes it seemed, if I just dreamed, somehow I could be there.

"Wishing I could hear your voices again. Wishing that I somehow could . . ."

I reached the middle of the lagoon. The moon was still full, sending down soft rays of light on the surface of the lake. I stared up at it, backing up to where I could touch the sand bottom again.

"Too many days, watching through this haze! Why can't we just be rescued?! Wishing I was somehow there again! Knowing we didn't even say "goodbye."

"Try to forgive, help me to live! Send us the boat to try!

"No more lying, not after all of your strangest years.

"No more gazing through these wasted tears." I may have tweaked the lyrics some, but I wouldn't cry over some memories just because a stalker has decided he has a Phantom of the Opera crush on me.

I didn't finish the song, instead turning around and—

"Wandering Princess, so lost and weary. Yearning for our voices."

It was dad's voice. But . . . no. Impossible. Eric couldn't know dad's voice, he couldn't. How could he know?

"Dad?" I frantically looked around in the trees, seeing if he was about to fall from a branch. "Quietly my mind beats against you—"

We both sung, "Yet the soul obeys!"

The trail leading out of the beach to my right started—started glowing. A shadow loomed just beyond my sight.

I started walking towards him, "The angel of music, he was creepy. Judging me by my voice! Dad, please, take us away! Save me from Eric. Dad, please, I misjudged you, before the shipwreck."

"It's okay now, Steph. Just follow the path. I'm right here."

I was standing three feet away from the path, dripping wet in my bathing suit, and still couldn't see him. I started—slowly—walking towards the path. Then I stopped. "Why can't you come to me?"

"Because I'm hurt. Eric, that ape-man, he hurt me. I can't get up, Steph. Please, help me."

I was at the very edge now. The light trailed off to another curve, and behind that . . . well, dad's voice was too close not to be any further.

"NO! Stephanie, STOP!" Cecil ran up to me, grabbing my arm. "That isn't Homer!"

"Cecil, what—"

I screamed as Eric leapt down from the trees, an actual machete in hand. Fortunately, he was dealing with a homicidal maniac, hopefully not quite an 'ex' by now. Either way, Cecil had a machete too.

He grinned as the two took to battle. "You made your mistake by calling yourself an "ape-MAN." You aren't an ape-man, especially not at the young age of fifteen, sixteen."

At this, Eric lunged for the heart. "I AM an ape-man!"

"No you're not! Boys are still children, and you are definitely acting like a freaking child!"

I started looking for something other than palm leaves and a few stones to fight with.

But as I turned around, I heard an echoing CRACK ring through the air. Slowly, ever so slowly, I faced the two. The first thing I saw was Cecil on the ground, a dribble of blood coming out of his forehead. I gasped before seeing the machete tip wasn't dripping with blood, but the butt of the weapon was wet with the stuff.

Eric looked at me and grinned. I took a step back. He wasn't staring at my face. I had nowhere to run without him chasing me, or sneaking up above me in the trees. He took a step forward; I stepped backwards into the water.

The morale of what happened next: ape-boys don't like to be called "boys." When you call them that, they can run very, very fast.

It was now eight on the morning, two hours since the fight. The castaways formed a search group when Stephanie was missing, and Cecil's machete (along with Cecil) was missing as well.

Why they did it: nobody would be up at the ungodly hour on any normal circumstance. Marge headed for the lagoon, sure Stephanie had only went out for a swim. She hoped and prayed silently that that was the case.

When she saw Cecil, on the ground, rubbing his head, she tackled him to the ground again, knees weighing his arms down. "You know where she is!"

"I promise you, I don't! I was knocked out! Please get off of me!"

"Not until you tell me where she is!"

"I don't know! She went out at six for a swim, and I heard her singing. Then I—" He sighed, "I heard Homer's voice. It was coming from that path," he motioned with his head, "but Eric jumped out from the jungle, and we fought with machetes the old-fashioned way. I was knocked unconscious, and your knees really hurt!"

"Homer?" She cocked her head, eyes narrowed. "You're ticklish, aren't you?"

"What?! No! No, I-I promise-"

She jabbed her fingers into his sides, making him twitch and shriek.

She scoffed, and twined her wiggling fingers through his ribcage. "You're too predictable. Tell me where he took her or I swear, I will switch to your over-sized feet—"

"I DIDN'T SEE THEM LEAVE!" He shouted, laughing.

"I am the mother of Bart Simpson. I know when someone's lying or not. And I know that tone of voice! Bob used it several times when he was telling us a lie, to lead us off of his scheme to kill Bart!"

"I'm NOT! I'm NOT! It's not fair! Tickling isn't fair!" He said this between gasp-fulls of air.

"Do you want me to switch to the feet, or will you talk?"

He started coughing, voice rather high pitched, "I didn't see the-hem!"

I came out of my room (a curtain and a cornered wall), huffing and adjusting the vine dress Eric made me put on (it was either I put it on myself, or he'd gladly do it for me. The ape almost didn't even give me a choice). He turned around. I sang, "Have you gorged yourself at last in your lust for flesh?! Am I now to be prey to your lust for song?"

"Hm. That fate which condemns me to wallow in blood, has also denied me the joys of the true song." He sighed, but smiled. "You wish to see my face?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, sure, whatever. Is it seriously like the real phantom's?" I tried to look without getting too close to him.

His grin disappeared as he took off his mask.

I immediately started laughing when his giant ears flapped out of their tucked place. Those things were saucers, it was hilarious! Worse than Dumbo!

"Oh, really now! Christine didn't laugh!"

I was still giggling, "Yeah? Well, I'm not Christine!" He growled, then smiled in a way that made me immediately stop laughing. "What're you smiling at?"

His grin grew larger. I backed up a few steps, though there wasn't much room. We were back in the cave, the only way to get out was to swim or use the boat that wasn't fast enough for his grabby hands.

Especially with the dress. It was skin-tight, and went down to my knees. The thing was entirely made out of vines and leaves, making me look like an ape-girl. Part of why I wouldn't go near the water was because of what would happen to the dress if it got soggy . . . *shudder* I, fortunately, was smart enough to keep my bathing suit on under it. But still.

Eric lunged for me; I started running around the cramped area, using his bed as a source of a cartoony-blockage. "Now Eric, you don't really want to do this, do you? I mean, being raised by apes must have been a pretty bad influence, but I bet that inside somewhere, there's a spark of humanity left—"

He lunged for me again, and we ended up repeating the switch-sides process several times.

"Get ha-off!" He started squirming again, trying to move his arms.

She had started running her fingers over his belly, "Tell me where my daughter is!"

She was met with heavy laughter; and felt his legs kicking. "GE-HEH-HET O-O-OFFF!"

Mel ran out of the forest then, shouting, "I know where they are! I know—" He stopped running. "What on earth—?"

She didn't stop, "He knows where they are!"

"I DO NOT!"

"It doesn't matter! Isabella said she saw the cave he took her to! C'mon!"

Marge scrambled up, following Mel. Cecil laid there gasping, and called out into the forest, "WHY does everything on this island TICKLE ME?!"

Nonetheless, he got up and followed.

Joy. I'm lost.

He had waited too long to get up, and quickly lost the others' trail. "Crap. Marge! Where are—YAH!"

He fell into a hole covered by palm leaves, and continued falling.

A trap, His eyes widened, how long does it—

He fell out into a cavern, saw a brief glimpse of it in two seconds, and then was underwater. Cecil swam back up to the surface, and saw Eric and Stephanie.

Eric smiled, taking Stephanie's derived attention to his use, and held a knife to her neck. If Cecil had wanted to use the machete, Stephanie would be in the way. His grin turned to a smirk, "I think, my dear, we have a guest."

"Seriously? Quoting the play now?" Stephanie tried to kick him. "Damn this dress! Actually, it isn't even enough to qualify as one!"

"It suits your figure," Eric said simply.

This made her eyes flick down nervously, and she shifted her posture a little. "The real phantom wasn't this perverted," She muttered.

"You, quiet!"

"Screw you!" She stomped on his foot as hard as she could, making him release his grip slightly. She then elbowed him in the ribcage, though he still didn't let go.

"I was raised by apes. I am used to rough-housing." He let go anyway, turning to Cecil.

Stephanie backed up a few steps when she saw Cecil's hand twitching to the machete.

"The last song is the best of them all, even if you don't sing."

"Damn it, don't you get it? If I must quote from the play, if music is the only thing that gets to you, then free her! Do what you like, only free her!" He sung the last two lines.

Eric laughed, turning to Stephanie. "Your father makes a passionate plea."

She gave him the eye. "He is not my father! Speaking of which, how did you know my dad's real voice?"

He shrugged. "I have been on this island for a very long time. Including the time before your strange video-contraption lost its source of power."

"You mean my cell phone? You listened to my private videos?!" Her fists clenched.

"While you were too."

"Why?!"

"We love her too!" Both eyes turned once again to Cecil.

"Creepy," She cocked her head a little, a slight grin on her face, "but makes my day."

"Does that mean nothing? We love her too! Show some compassion, for god's sa-"

"Nobody showed any compassion for me!"

Stephanie decided they weren't heading straight into war. She took a few more steps towards Cecil, stopping at the waters' edge. She gave him the look that said, "I am NOT going any farther!"

"Monsieur, I bid you welcome. Did you think that I would harm her?" Eric came up to Cecil, extending his hand. "Why should I make her pay, for the sins which are YOURS!"

Stephanie gasped and stepped back again when Eric threw a hard punch to Cecil, sending him flailing to the right, and into a fishing net that flew up into the air.

A deliberate trap.

"Nothing can save you now, except, perhaps, Stephanie!" He turned to her, grabbing her wrist, "Start a new life with me! Buy his freedom with your love! Refuse me and you send your lover to his—your friend to his death!"

She snarled at him. "Those tears I almost shed for your cruel fate grow colder, and turn to tears of HATE!"

"Stephanie, please forgive me, we did it all for you and all for nothing!"

"Farewell my fallen idol and false friend. I had such hopes that you had a boat and now those hopes are shattered!"

They went on with the song, some of Stephanie and Cecil's notes breaking a little. Finally, it got to Eric's part: "So do you end your days with me? Or send him to his grave?"

"Why make her lie to you to save me?"

"'Angel' of 'music,' you deceived me. I didn't give my mind blindly!"

Eric stared her down. "You drive my patience. MAKE the CHOICE."

"Aren't you just a bucketful of sunshine? Why don't you just step off a cliff?" she sighed, "Pitiful creature of darkness. What kind of life have you known? God gave me the courage to show you, you are not alone!"

With that, she hugged Eric. When his back was to Cecil, she winked at him, mouthing the word, "machete." He grinned and took it out, but paused when the castaways' voices drifted down the tunnel.

"Track down this ape he must be found! Track down this man who ran underground!"

Eric broke the hug, looking at Stephanie. "No phantom ending."

She frowned. "What?"

"No phantom ending. The Phantom never got Christine. I, however," he tightened his grip on her arms, "will."

There was a gigantic splash. Cecil had now cut himself loose. However, he had landed on his feet with the weapon in hand. "I suggest, for all three of us, you let her go."

Eric regained the defense posture, with her in front of him. "Why do you care?"

"Yeah, though I am appreciative of you, I have to wonder that myself. For a man who hates basically my entire family and almost shot me, you seem to care very much." Stephanie looked unfazed.

He smiled grimly at her. "Consider this an apology."

Eric ran behind several curtains, lifting Stephanie with little to no trouble at all. She cried out, kicking him (even if she wasn't over his shoulder, nobody wants to be lifted up by a crazed stalker).

Behind the curtains was yet another tunnel. I stopped kicking at Eric, instead keeping my eyes ahead of us. There were lit torches to keep us from running into a wall, which would have hurt considering that I'm up front here. I heard Cecil chasing after us, crying out.

We reached a fork in the road. Eric took the left, and few seconds later I couldn't hear Cecil's footsteps. I yelled, and there they were again. We repeated that every time a fork came our way, until we eventually came out of the tunnel system on the cliff.

On the other side of the island.

Eric set me down (awkward to say), and backed up a few steps from me.

"You'd better get away from me!" I snapped, pulling down the dress some. Then back up.

At least I kept my bathing suit on under this.

Cecil emerged from the tunnel then, gasping for breath. When he finally got it under control, he said, "Apparently spending almost three weeks on a deserted island doesn't help you get in shape." He stretched his back, popping something in there. He sighed with relief and relaxed.

I sort of smirked.

Eric walked up to the edge. "Take her. Forget this. Forget all you've seen." My masquerade mask was now in his hands, taken out from an apparent leaf-pocket. He turned away from us, facing the edge.

Too close for my taste. "Eric?"

He turned his head. "Stephanie, I love you. You alone can make my song take flight."

A slight breeze flew up, making our hair fly with it. Several sea gulls swooped by him, but seemed to do so in slow motion. And Eric let himself fall.

Cecil and I screamed, running up to the edge, watching him fall. "It's over now! The Music Of The Night!"

"Turn away from it!" Cecil placed his arm around me, turned me around, just before the sickening squish of his body hitting the jagged rocks below reached our ears. I covered my gaping mouth and let him take me back into the tunnels.

And, for the first time since Troy came here, I felt tears trickling down my cheek. But this time, they weren't for myself.

This didn't start off as a three-parter that would take almost three months to finish. :P Oh well, it was fun re-writing the lyrics. Next chapter will be coming to theatres - I mean to this site - soon! Or after Christmas!