HE'S THERE

Chapter 14 Total Dumbass

I looked down to my sketchpad. It was blank. I looked up. Mrs. Yue was giving me a nasty glare. Kidding, Mrs. Yue would never do that. But she was looking at me, and once she realized I noticed it, she came right over and leaned into the table in front of me. My eyes focused on the flowery print of her skirt. I found its length distasteful. "How're things going, Lily?" I shot my eyes away from the skirt and smiled labouredly at her.

"...Swell." I nodded really convincingly.

"Having trouble with a topic?"

"Yeah, that must be it."

"You know, first period didn't like the prompts much either."
"Heheheheh." I hated small talk. She stared at me for a, at least it seemed, very long moment, really not realizing how creepy it was.

"What's on your mind?"

"A mysterious guy that ran away with me last night." I stated bluntly. She tried to hide a grin but bursted with short laughter.

"What?"

"What."

"That's very clever. It'd make a good picture."

"I'm serious. It happened." She smiled and nodded.

"Well, uh..." She stood back up and crossed her arms. "I'll leave you to your work. But if you're really stuck, you can flip through some of my art books." I raised my eyebrows with fake benevolence, then sunk back into myself.

I should not have even come to school today. The last days of anything were never productive. But my mom had a day-off, there really was no way to stay home and fake being sick or something. (She was good at sniffing that shit out.) Sometimes she'd go down a list of how great I was. "You're smart, you're funny, you're creative, inventive, sharp," and then remind me that she's "me x10" so "don't even try." She really was. I honestly think I'm gonna look, sound, and be just like my mom some day. Minus the secretary part. I think I'd undergo psychosis if I were in an office building long enough. Probably die of heat stroke or something, all up in my mind. That's how much I hate stuff like that. Some say it's good. Others say I need to stop living in a painting, or a movie, or wherever I hide when the world gets too real. I don't think that's how I am. I think I have a good handle on reality. I know how to maturely and rationally deal with things in the real world. Furthermore, I have realistic dreams. I know I have an escapist side, but I get annoyed when my parents, or Mariam, or whoever...tells me I have a problem with it. They know nothing about how my mind works. Same with how I come off at school. Mariam told me once that a lot of people think I look unwelcoming; unapproachable. Like I hate people and will lash out with fangs and claws if they try to start conversation. It isn't true. As a general whole, yes I hate school. Yes, I hate many types of people. But when it comes down to specifics, I give nearly everybody a chance. I am friendly. I would never be rude to a stranger unless they brought it on. I've just grown to mind my own business. I'm naturally quiet even if a million things are going through my head, so for God's sake, stop acting like it's weird.

Wow, I have no idea why I just went off on a rant. That stuff hasn't been inside nearly as much since I'm getting more used to talking about my feelings out loud. Right then, I wished I could get up, ask to go to the restroom, walk outside to the railing and have some way to call the Phantom on my cellphone. Then I could let him know that I, out of personal amusement, "admitted" to my teacher I had him, even if she didn't take me seriously. And honestly, I found that kind of annoying, even though I was glad. I almost...wanted her to react how she should and take me seriously, to question me, to be amazed, to feel like a student of hers has this...fascinating...secret...world. I tried to think about this thing we had going on, from the outside... wondering if it was even meaningful to anyone else. What if I was Lily before this happened, and...I don't know. I met Paulina, this new girl, and she was the Christine. Would I be so jealous and curious? Yes, but I'm a phan. Okay, lets say I met Paulina and she had a secret life roleplaying...uh...Star Wars, with someone.

Yes, I honestly would be pretty intrigued.

Not because I like Star Wars (honest to God: I haven't seen it besides part of the first, and Anakin was hot...)

But because soaking in fictional worlds with other equally interested people is... cool.

Plus...I don't know, this was getting real to me.

I've never hugged a guy.

They're much bigger than girls.

I felt instantly drawn to him... perhaps because most of him was covered up. I grabbed his fingers and held on to his arm, but had no idea what kind of arm or hand was below the sleeve or the glove. And I didn't have to find out, either.

Well, if it helps, he had no way to hide his hair or the lower half of his face. If I may say so, his hair was delectable. I don't know why it was so long, but everyone has their preferences. The lower half of his face...being a good demonstration of his skin, was very pale and seemed pretty clean. (Hey now, most guys have a lot of acne at my age.) Not that he was my age. I don't know. Maybe he was 18. ...19? No. 19-year-olds don't go to high school. Unless they're super-seniors. You never know... this guy hates school and probably doesn't apply himself. Okay this is straying from the skin issue. But seriously, all in all, he was not unattractive, perhaps why I wasn't very scared to be close to him, although obviously in moderation since we're strangers.

Anyway, I wanted to call, but right now, the only way we could communicate was through slow-ass email.

I rose from the chair.

Slowly approached Mrs. Yue.

She looked at me expectantly.

"May I use the restroom?" She nodded. I lazily strolled out the door, then when the corner hit, I dashed down to the library. (Hahaha, wouldn't it be funny if the Phantom was there and saw me running around?! He'd be like "word.") I swiftly slid over a computer chair and logged on to my account. I hated how the internet took forever to loud at school. I reached my inbox and totally missed an unread letter while rushing for 'compose' and clicked back. Ohhh, it was from Erik.

We need to talk. Today.

...

Well, that was a little pushier than usual. I clicked reply.

Hey,
I was actually hoping to meet you today anyway. I'll try to be there the same time. Forgive me if I'm a little late, I have to squeeze an excuse in.

Christine.

I was out of there faster than I came.

- - -

Giry was dying to know how it went. I passed her in the hall but it really wasn't an appropriate time so I said I'd call her when school got out, or a little later. By the time I was walking back up the hill to the theater, I flipped my cellphone out and thought about calling her, but I didn't think there'd be quite enough time to go into detail, so I stuck it back in my coat.

I sort of hurried into the auditorium, flinging open the doors at the back of the chairs. The sight froze me. He was sitting at the stage, his back turned at me. Seated in a tall chair, surrounded in the backstage props. A collection of red and gold furniture spread across the panels, a long table, wooden chairs, rugs, candle-sticks, silverware; everything. There weren't any stage lights. Had it not been for the startling amount of stick candles, this greatly illuminated setting would've been pitch black. I excitedly trotted down an audience row and headed up the steps. I figured I might as well pick a chair and sit down. He looked like he barely noticed me, even if I was in the corner of his eye. The head of the table at his side was covered in papers, scattered out like he couldn't organize to save his life, and had been tossing bits he didn't like over his shoulder before I got there. I tried not to look at him too much, I just wasn't used to it. He seemed to flinch himself out of a thought and turned in my direction. "How was school today?" Hah.

"It was repulsive." He smiled a little. I tried to sink into Christine. "Fridays aren't very productive."

"Says she who's never productive."

"Hey!" I leaned back in my chair and gave him an annoyed glance. "You have some nerve speaking of my agenda outside the opera house as if it's nothing."

"Says she who has already called it nothing, I'm merely agreeing with her-"

"Then teach me something!" He paused in surprise.

"I intended to, today." I straightened my posture and anticipated. "But I'm not so sure what."

"Must mean you're packed with interesting things." He stared at me a while, then a tiny laugh escaped his exhale.

"Why don't you teach me something first."

"What, about being a 17-year-old opera singer whose classmates, parents, and by God, friends, don't understand her?"

"I find you easy to understand." I stood up. Some odd creative note had hit me.

"Don't insist you understand me." I sat on the table, over a few of his papers. "You might be cunning enough to lure me into your lair, but you will never know what I'm thinking, or how I really feel about you." I squinted my eyes and I turned my back on him, crossing my arms and settling my eyes on a burning candle.

"But I do know. Isn't that funny?"

"If it helps you sleep at night." I tried desperately to hide a smirk crawling up my face.

"Well...I was going to let you have it your way today." He calmly informed me, still sitting in the chair. I continued to stare into the flame.

"How?"

"You said you...wanted to see some of my writing." I turned around rather quickly with wide eyes. He beckoned for me to sit down, so I took the chair next to him eagerly. "After I took you back last night, I went through a lot of works trying to find an appropriate specimen. I was up rather late."

"Why so picky?"

"A writer should be picky. Unless they're not really a writer." He made me ashamed. I wrote poetry that barely mattered to me, and here he was, desperately searching, just for one or two things to meet my eyes.

"Well... what do you write?"

"Format, you mean?"

"Yes."

"None, really. Just an idea I think about, however long it takes."

"What's the longest idea you've ever had?"

"Sixteen pages." I nodded a little.

"That's impressive. You must have a high attention span. What was it about?"

"Heh, I'm not sharing that piece with you." I averted my eyes and bit my lip. He shuffled the papers together and then abruptly stopped. "Have I written about you before?" I perked up. "Yes." I darted my eyes around.

"Hey, I've written about you too. Once. I wrote a poem. It was about how mysterious you are." I think he was trying to hide a smile of sorts, then it faded away. He stood up and put the other papers on a dresser behind him. We both waited for the right moment, and he continued.

"This is short. Any longer, and I'd feel uncomfortable." He handed me a scrap of paper. I immediately started reading it.

When the world loses its pigment, you repaint with the color in your arms.

I raised my head. I didn't get it. He just stood there, looking like he might want to try explaining for once. Then my cellphone suddenly went off. We both eyed each other before I scurried to my coat at the end of the table and checked the screen. Giry. (Yes, her name was 'Madame Giry' on my contact list.) I turned off the ring and put it back. "I'm terribly sorry..."

"It's fine..."

"It was..." I held the paper in my hands and read it over again. "A very interesting word choice."

"Thank you." He looked like he really wanted to snatch it back from me and not even talk about his writing anymore.

"Is that all?"

"For now..." Oh, balls.

"...I should've brought that poem about you."

"I'd like to hear it." I smiled.

"Okay, next time." I came back over to my phone, this time deciding to turn it off all together. Giry's call reminded me about that little confrontation he gave Meg. I froze and glanced at him. I knew I had to get her off the hook. The only way was to just admit that it was me.

I wished I'd been there to see it, at least.

I really didn't want him having anything to do with her, I suppose.

I dropped the phone back into the coat pocket, then kept my distance. "I need to speak with you about something." His black eyes darted to me. "I...don't want Meg to get the heat for this."

"For what?"

"For something that um...you thought she had a part in, when she didn't. She didn't ask that girl to look out for you. At all. She actually takes you quite seriously." He seemed surprised that I even knew about her. "I...asked myself... would she...tell him everything. Would she...try to answer her own questions..."

"What are you saying?"

"It was me." He was silent. "I wanted her to help me find out about you. Not a lot. Just...I was using her as my eyes."

"Why needed? You had enough of them to read I wanted this to be exclusive."

"... I know you did. But I didn't think you would even find out. She was just my support."

"Wow, I never realized I came off as such an idiot." I stuttered a whole lot trying to think of something to say.

"I-I-I clearly don't think you're oblivious. But...well...she was pretty inconspicuous."

"Not to me."

"...What?"

"I think it would save you both a lot of time if you assumed everything you did would be figured out."

"...I-I'm sorry? I knew it wasn't a good idea. I did it anyway. I was too damn curious." Ok, now he seemed offended. "I'm stupid, okay?"

"You can't play stupid with me, I know how smart you are."

I paused. I had played all my cards.

"Then what can I do? I feel guilty. Can I make it up?"

"I'm not sure yet." He turned his back to me. Ohhh, did I feel like a stupid, inconsiderate retard who had just ruined a nice day, right now.

"I...seriously...I didn't intend for her to..to... Anything she knows is just what I told her. And I clearly don't know very much. We were putting our heads together. She was making guesses. I'm too curious not to. She just...talks to me about it. It makes me less nervous. She doesn't intrude." His response was stalled.

"We must have entirely different definitions of 'intrude'." I retracted and trailed my eyes along the floor. He seemed to be thinking for a little while before he turned around again.

"I'd like you not to see your friends this week."

"...Pardon?"

"You asked if you could do anything. There's what you can do."

"A-A-Am I allowed any kind of communication?"

"Sorry."

"Is there any strategy behind this?"

"Possibly...Nothing to go over if it's your loyalty I'm trying to figure out."

"You're mad at me, then."

"No." He came up to me and held up my coat. "Most certainly not." He carried it down the stage steps and to the doors. I followed him in confusion to the lobby.

"...You seem like it."

"I seem a lot of things." He had too many good points. He opened the doors. "I have some plans this evening. I'll see you another time." He held the coat up and I awkwardly slid my arms in it.

"If I might ask...what are your plans?" I looked out to the street. Was I being kicked out?

"You can't ask."

"Okay. Then yes, I'll see you..." I took one step out and the door shut right behind me.

- - -

He made me feel really bad.

- - -

I sent another email and apologized. I kind of ended up spilling again how much it meant to me that I had him and how I would never try to ruin it. I did not want him to let me go. I could've just proved that the girl he admired for two years was a stupid asshole. He could've decided "oh fuck this."
I was on the computer all night long, reading fanfics on various sites to keep myself preoccupied instead of feeling bad. I didn't sign on to AIM. At like one in the morning, he replied to me. He said he was sorry too... Said he was having a bad day, didn't like that this topped it off, and didn't want to have to worry about us. Hey, I understood. And he even admitted that it wasn't a big deal when he thought about it, because nothing we did would bring us closer to figuring him out. Oh sweet Jesus.

I spent all Saturday morning watching T.V. and feeling like a complete loser, even though we'd sorta resolved the 'fight'. By noon, I was sitting in the hallway reading one of my dad's recipe books. I decided I needed to learn how to be a better cook while I was cooped up in the house.

Meg even called.

I had to tell her I was extremely busy and had to leave right that second. Then I hung up on her. I had paranoia that either one of them was gonna show up at my door. I didn't even know why I was listening to this asshole; why I was letting a stranger dictate my life! It was like I was grounded! It's just I DIDN'T feel like he was on my level. I felt like he was better than me. And I've never felt like that. I've always had a superiority complex, even if I turn around and admit that I'm a kid and I'm not special. It's hypocritical, I realize. I think deep down, everybody feels like they have the upper hand. Well some stranger, who a month ago was just 'the note-sender', had it.

- - -

The weekend went by. I got up the guts to at least check my voicemail, and there was one from Madame Giry sent all the way on Friday night, who must've still been very anxiously waiting for me to explain my night with the phantom. I felt horrible that I couldn't even do that, or even tell her why I couldn't. Another was sent on noon that day, urging me yet again, and also mentioning that Meg thought I might be mad at her. The reasoning probably being that I didn't intend on telling her what I'd been doing, and had hung up on her the day before. Shit. Seriously, if this were ANY other time, there would be no kinks to work out with friends. Now I had shit that'd be sitting around until Friday. Damn you, Phantom.