A little past midnight on the following Wednesday Erik reached his high point of writing, and was able to put the finishing touches on the opera: When To Leave Good Enough Alone.

It wasn't necessarily the most traditional opera he'd ever written (or seen on stage) but this was a piece of work he could definitely be proud of. It was impressive, first of all that he'd been able to write a whole opera by himself.

After the situation he'd encountered with Christine and Ray, his project became more pressing. He forced his anger and frustration of seeing the love of his life with someone else. It made his blood boil.

The music was the easiest part of the process. He knew exactly how he wanted the notes to be presented. Erik contemplated fishing his electric keyboard out of his closet and banging on it, but then remembered his mother and his sister were still sleeping.

Now that all of the hard work was done, Erik focused his attention on the casting choices. He knew that Christine would be the lead from the first time he had considered the idea.

As much as he didn't like the guy, he figured that Ray should play the part of the other lover. Erik wanted him to be cast as the stupid, foppish lover that the main character chooses over the smarter guy.

Unlike in real life, the foppish lover betrays the lead actress and she leaves him, confused, and eventually comes to love the other man.

If only Christine could see what he felt for her, maybe she would understand and come back to him…

He just couldn't help it. Maybe this piece of work would help her understand him. But the first step was to go to Mrs. Firmin and beg her to allow the school to perform the opera.

Mrs. Firmin came into work early on that Wednesday, a cup of Starbucks coffee in her right hand and her briefcase in the other. Reaching into her pocket for the keys, she noticed a stray light on in the library, and peered into the large, otherwise dark room.

She noticed that the solitary light was focused in the center of the room, focused on one single table.

Mrs. Firmin's brown furrowed. How could someone have gotten into the library without a key? Well, okay, she admitted, the person could have gone to the office and requested a key, but as far as she knew, the office wasn't open this early in the morning.

If it was a student that had entered the library, he or she wouldn't have been able to get the key unless they had permission directly from a teacher. Or the student could have used a bobby pin to pick the lock.

From personal experience, there were not many people who picked a lock to get into the library, of all places.

No matter, she thought, finally finding the keys. I just hope they didn't steal anything… As far as she could tell, the computers were still there and it wasn't likely that there were books lying all over the floor.

Turning the key, she entered the room, propping the door open with the wooden wedge she usually kept near the right side of the door.

Mrs. Firmin cautiously crept to the table, expecting there to be someone hiding or waiting for her. Call her paranoid, but she did work in a school, and she had to be wary of disobedient students who decided that scaring the librarian would be a funny prank.

She found a note on the table attached with a paperclip to a large stack of paper. The note read:

Mrs. Firmin,

I have written you an opera. I wish to ask your permission for the school to perform. I wish to keep my identity secret until you agree to rehearse the play.

My casting choices are included here, but feel free to make as many changes as are necessary to make this opera a success. Here I have brought the finished score: Leave Well Enough Alone. I have a few instructions before rehearsals start:

Carla must be taught to act! Not prancing around the stage like a ballerina.

As for our star, Christine Darling: No doubt she'll do her best, its true her voice is good, she knows. But should she wish to excel, she has much still to learn. If pride will let her return to me, her teacher…

Thank you for considering my proposal. If you agree to producing this opera, leave a note for me before you close the library. I will pick it up and reply within good time.

I will remain your faithful and obedient servant,

S.G.

Mrs. Firmin looked up from the letter for a minute, trying to process what she'd just read. It was so unexpected. She had never known a high school student had so much dedication and confidence in their work to even think about submitting it to the head of the drama department.

Recovering from the shock, she picked the stack of papers up and placed them carefully under her left arm to go the next four feet to her desk. She switched on the lights and began to more thoroughly examine the document.

In fact, she was so engrossed in reading it that she didn't hear a student come in. He was clearing his throat impatiently to get her attention. Andrea Firmin just about jumped five feet in the air from the shock.

She had never been so compelled by a student's work that she couldn't stop reading it. There were more students in the library today than usual, so she couldn't concentrate for long without having to yell at several students for playing games or checking their MySpace accounts when they were supposed to be doing research.

Often times she also had to help kids locate books when they missed the signs three feet in front of them.

The next most available time for her to read the manuscript was during her lunch hour, while eating a small plate of salad from the cafeteria.

This was getting ridiculous; Mrs. Firmin had laughed and cried in front of students waiting in line to get their books checked out.

She couldn't help it, though! She emphasized with Aaron, the heartbroken main character whose crush, Lisa, went out with someone else.

No, Mrs. Firmin decided, it wasn't strictly original, but the author of the opera definitely knew how to write dialogue, and she was positive the musical score would be sublime for such a storyline. She had little musical ability, believe it or not, but she could tell a good score when she saw it.

When the school day ended, she put a call into the principal, and left a message.

Erik, at that point was looking through the reference books, pretending to look for something. He smiled as he listened to her message to the principal. She was interested! He wanted to do a dance around the library.

He had seen Christine today, but there wasn't nearly as much spring in her step as he usually saw in her. He wondered what exactly had happened to make her down in the dumps.

Of course, he hoped that she was glum because Ray had broken up with her, or done something to disappoint her, but he knew that was not fair. If it was meant to be, what was the point?

Erik was trying to discourage these gloomy thoughts when he saw several girls over in the corner of the library giggling and whispering in urgent, hushed tones, while trying to glance his way discreetly.

This was odd, Erik thought, shrinking below one of the library shelves to look at a book. Out of the corner of his eye, he still thought he saw someone else with a curious expression on his face, watching Erik cautiously. It was as if they were worried he might pop out at any second and lunge at their throats, or something equally dangerous and terrifying.

In the hallways people were minding their distance when they saw him. What the heck was happening here? Was there a huge bug on his face that everyone saw but no one commented on? Had an eye popped out and he hadn't noticed?

This condescending look was usually reserved for the "losers" of the school, including those with tacky outfits and oversized glasses given by the A list crowd when they were feeling especially ruthless.

Erik was, admittedly, less than popular and hardly well-liked. He had few friends and kept to himself mostly, but he had never been examined like this before in his life.

"No way!" One girl in the hallway shrieked loudly in the hallway. "I thought that only happened in horror movies where they want millions of dollars and that's the only way they can get the money!"

Erik hid on the floor between the crevice of one wall and another. This will be interesting, he thought.

"Apparently he lured her into his car and took her to his house. He wouldn't let her leave, so I've heard," another girl boasted in her confident matter-of-fact way.

From his position on the floor, he could see the small circle of friends shaking their heads in disapproval.

"Did they catch him?" Yet another girl asked. Her voice was squeaky and high-pitched.

"No. He's denied it profusely, but I'm not sure the police will believe him." The first girl said, again exuding her overconfidence.

Then Erik heard the tell-tale signs of high heeled shoes clicking down the hallway, attached to the most powerful girl in school. "Hello everyone, I thought I might join you."

Chatter ceased at Carla's presence. The sight of her brought fear and awe to the masses. Boys couldn't keep their eyes off her gorgeous figure, but girls couldn't stand to look into Carla's potent icy blue eyes.

"What are we discussing?" She asked calmly, apparently not noticing the crowd around her was avoiding her gaze silently.

"The kidnapping.of Christine Darling."

Principal Phillip Green returned to his desk after a long day of patrolling the halls, visiting classrooms, and meeting with juvenile delinquents regarding their poor behavior.

He was a rather large man with a protruding, round belly, and short stubby arms and legs. His feet ached, and he longed to once again lounge in his soft , squishy rolling chair and prop his tired feet on the edge of the desk.

Mr. Green shut the door to his office and sighed gustily. He noticed the mountains of paper lying on his desk and decided it would be best to begin work again. Although tired, he was determined to get the rest of the work done for the day so he would not have to worry his wife and three young sons about it.

Above the mountain of papers, he glanced in the direction of his phone. A bright red light was flashing, indicating a message.

Reaching for his coffee–stale by now, due to such a long absence– he listened to the message:

"Phillip, this is Andrea Firmin. I found an opera manuscript, as weird as that sounds, in the library today. I've been reading it throughout the day, and although I don't know whom the author is, it's the most compelling thing I've read in a while. Uh, I would really appreciate it if you could look at it and make sure we are able to perform it for our spring musical. My extention is 232. Thanks. Bye."

Mr. Green looked at the phone, as if expecting it to ask, "well, are you going to call her back, or are you going to just sit there?"

"Quite an interesting message. I've never heard of such a thing," He told the telephone quietly.

He picked up the receiver and dialed.

"Andrea?"

"Yes? Hello Phillip. Did you get my message?" She sounded as if she had just taken a sip of something and was struggling to swallow before making her next comment.

"Yes, I did. Your message was curious, I must admit. I am not sure what to make of an opera submitted by a student. I suppose we would have to get it approved by the school board before we could promise anything, but the concept is intriguing."

"I dare say it is," Mrs. Firmin mused.

She paused for a moment, and there was a momentary silence. Mr. Green opened his mouth to speak, but she continued, "I can drop the manuscript off today if you like. Maybe a fresh eye would do it good. I am almost finished, so I'll bring it over at around 2. That's my planning time."

"All right. Thank you. I'll see you at two. Good bye, Andrea." He hung up in his curt fashion and set the phone back in the cradle.

Several minutes later, Mr. Green heard a curious noise coming from the office.

Reluctantly, he left his chair slowly and went to the door. At its opening, he saw a tall dark-haired boy struggling in the arms of two teachers.

The boy said nothing but he attempted to wriggle free of their strong hold.

"What in the world happened here?" Mr. Green asked in horror.

"I wrote him up, Mr. Green. He tried to attack several girls, and one of them was holding her nose with blood streaming from it."

Mr. Green frowned. In such a small school, fights were a rarity, compared with defacement and vandalism. "Come into my office," He said.

Once the door was shut, Mr. Green shut the door and the two men holding the boy released him and went toward the door.

To Mr. Green's shock and amazement, the boy broke into sobs, covering his face in his hands. The force was so great that Mr. Green and the other teachers could see his shoulders shaking. He scarcely made a sound.

In all his years as both an educator and an administrator Mr. Green had never witnessed a young man crying before. He didn't know exactly how to process the situation, and simply waiting until the sobs started to subside before proceeding.

"What is your name, young man?" Mr. Green. He had never been good with remembering names, nor was he apt at giving sympathy.

"Erik Giry." He said, finally, looking at the principal with one eye covered by a hair, the other was bloodshot and puffy.

"Is your mother­–"

"The French teacher, yes." He said miserably.

"I am going to call her and alert her as to the situation." He said, reaching for the phone. Once the call was made, Mr. Green looked at Erik.

"Can you tell me what happened, please?"

Erik sighed, cleared his throat.

He heard the girl say Christine's name. Heat rose to his face and his fists clenched in rage. Before he knew it, he was off the ground and stalking toward the group of girls. The look in his eyes was menacing, almost feline; his pupils became slits.

Carla, he remembered, taunted him with a mocking message. It was a part of her cool, believable façade. Somewhere, he knew there was fear. Her words enraged him.

"Madam, I believe it is you who are the toad. Remember that," He whispered before plunging his fist into her face. Her nose was bleeding and broken.

Unfortunately for Erik two teachers were coming down the hall at that exact moment, rushing toward him, ties flying.

Uh oh. Erik was caught. For a second he froze, trying to encourage his frozen brain to think of a plan.

Instead of waiting for them to catch up with him, he bolted. The panic in his lungs threatened to cut off his oxygen supply, but he kept running, straight into the women's bathroom.

Heart racing, Erik listened for the voices of the two teachers.

"Where do you think he went?" One asked.

Erik smiled from inside the stall. They would never find him in here. Erik looked at the surroundings. So this is what the inside of the girls' bathroom looked like…

His heart stopped as he heard her voice.

Erik watched through the crack as Christine leaned toward the mirror, giving him a view of her face. Then just as quickly, she disappeared into one of the stalls.

Watching carefully, he snuck out of the girl's bathroom unscathed– until he saw the two teachers standing outside with their hands on their hips.

"What were you hiding in there for?" One of them asked.

Erik didn't answer, he sprinted again, but this time they didn't fall for the trick. They caught both of his arms squarely, applying iron grips and leading him in the direction of the office.

His heart sank. What else did he expect? That was usually the punishment for punching someone in school. He would probably get a suspension for several days.

Now he sat in the chair and felt a little lightheaded. All of the physical fatigue had caught up with him, exhaustion setting in quickly.

Mrs. Giry came rushing into the room, shutting the door. Noting the grim expressions of the principal and other teachers, she knew this was not a good situation.

Erik was sentenced to a three-day suspension as well as submitting a written apology to Carla Visiovatti.

Well, it could have been worse, Erik supposed. On the ride home, his mother was visibly furious.

"What did you think you were doing, Erik? You know the consequences. You can't take everything so literally, son. Who knows if they were telling the truth? If they were just trying to stir up trouble, they did a very good job of it." She shook her head.

Erik looked at his shoes. "I didn't mean it, Mama. I couldn't control my temper. You know how it is with me."

His mother looked in his direction but didn't seem to see him. Anger glinted in her green eyes. "We'll discuss this later."