Le Fantome de F-20

Le Fantome de F-20

By EsmeraldaCarewDaae

(Who has way too much time on her hands and not enough patience!)

Claimer: Angie: based on my friend Angie.  Sassy: based on my friend Sassy.  John: based on kid named John in my class….get the picture??  All of these characters are based on people I know, therefore they don't really belong to me, but no one else uses them, so if you want to use them (why would you want to do that?!) you can ask me. 

Disclaimer: I don't own, however,  the Phantom of the Opera or any of the characters.  Not yet anyway…::snicker::

            It was Monday, a beautiful spring day beginning outside the cloudy Plexiglas window, scratched, beaten, and worn by 40 or so years worth of high school students.  It was Day 1, so first block was the 1st period class.  That meant Mrs. Rubera's French 3 CP class was congregating in Room F 22, deep in the bowels of the F-wing of Haverhill High School.  Samantha (Sasmoe) Seavey's head banged against the desk she was sitting at as she groaned loudly.

            "I hate school!!" she said, her face still against the desk.

            "First period hasn't even started yet!  Stop complaining."  Angela (Angie) Morton said.  She sat on the desk in front of Sasmoe in dark blue jeans with silver threads woven into them.  In her ears perched large gold hoops.  She also wore a black t-shirt with bright red lettering that said "I'm not shy...I'm just observing my prey" on it.  On her feet were unnecessary platform sneakers made of blue canvas.  Angie was 5'8" without the shoes.  Her thin, curly, light brown hair was pulled up in a ponytail which stuck out of the top of her head because her hair was barely chin length when it was curly.  "Where's Mrs. Rubera?"

            "I don't care."  Sasmoe said against the desk.  She had a well-founded aversion to Mrs. Rubera.  Mrs. Rubera seemed to like getting Sassy in trouble.  Sassy wore a pair of black bell-bottom pants, black velour ankle boots and a stretchy shirt with the words "Bad Monkey" printed on it.  She sat up finally, her shiny, straight light brown hair with hints of red and blonde fell back just past her shoulders as she sat up, narrowing her round, light brown eyes at Angie.  Angie looked at her, widening her own dark-brown eyes, then finally squeaked loudly in mock fear and hid her face behind her hands. 

            "The evil eye!  The evil eye!"  She said, muffled behind her hands.  Sasmoe's face relaxed as she smiled, albeit evilly.  Just as the bell rang, a third girl walked in the door and took the seat next to Sasmoe.

            "Hey Ang, hey Sassy," she breathed.  She dropped her bulky black shoulder bag on the floor, pulling her hair, which was waist-length, almost curly, and the same color as Sasmoe's (though less shiny) off her shoulders.

            "Hey Jams," Angie said, moving off to her seat on the other side of the room.

            "Hello," Sassy said.  Jamie (Christine) Taker pulled her dark blue velvet cardigan up over her shoulders and over her light blue-green tank top.  She wore a knee-length madras-plaid skirt of airy cotton in blues and aquas, embroidered with blue and hemmed with a frill.  She wore sandals with an inch platform that were made to look as if they were woven with straw, with white rosettes stuck to the straps across her toes.  Her large, round bluegreen eyes swept across the room.  An anxious expression furrowed her forehead into worry lines.

            "Where's Madame Rubera?" she asked Sassy.  Sassy groaned.

            "You ask me as if I care."  Jamie (who was only called Christine sometimes) gave her a look as if to say 'Well...!  I care!'  Around her, kids threw spitballs, paper airplanes, and talked loudly. 

            "Does anyone know where Mrs. Rubera is?" called Kristin.  She was sitting in the teacher's swivel chair in the aisle between rows of seats, next to her friend Marissa.  Together, they had a knack for getting Mrs. Rubera off the subject of French.

            "Who cares?"  John, who sat in the back, called to Kristin.  "The more time without her, the better!"  John was a troublemaker who constantly got on Mrs. Rubera's bad side.  Unlike Sassy, Mrs. Rubera had a reason to dislike this particular student.  He was constantly being sent out of class, amid gales of laughter nonetheless, and was suspended often also.  It was a running joke in their class that his full name happened to sound like the French expression for "I've had it up to here!": Je n'ai mar!

            "Jamie, Jamie, Jamie!" a voice called from the back of the room.  Jamie turned to see who it was; it was Chris (Spike) Rogers.  "Sam, Sam, Sam!"  He called.  Sassy turned to face him too.  Spike made a motion for them to come and sit in front of him.  Sassy just rolled her eyes and turned away.  Jamie shook her head fervently.

            "No, a teacher's going to come in her any minute and they'll catch me out of my seat and then I'll get in trouble," she said in a childlike voice.  Jamie was a goody two shoes who never liked being in trouble.  She never did anything that ever put her in any situation that would get her in trouble.  As she said this, she didn't notice the hush that had fallen over her classmates. 

            "Tu as raison, Mademoiselle."  Jamie turned slowly to the front of the classroom and almost fainted from embarrassment.  A crimson blush slowly crept up her cheeks as she looked at the teacher standing in front of her.  She had never seen him around the school before.  That wasn't saying much, because Haverhill was such a large school they had to employ full-time substitute teachers.  He was very tall, probably around 6'4", and wore a black trench coat over a white button-down linen shirt and black Dockers.  Perched on his olive-black head of hair was a black fedora.  What was most remarkable about him was that he was wearing a black mask that covered most of his face, except for a little around his mouth and chin.  His skin was extremely pale, and bright amber eyes seemed to glow from behind that mask.  He had large, elegant hands and was rather thin.  He held the entire class in his thrall, Mrs. Rubera's normally rambunctious, noisy class. 

            "Pardonez-moi," Jamie whispered, bringing her hand to her face to try to calm her bright red flush.

            "Ce ne rien," the new teacher replied.  He regarded at her at length before going on.  "Classe!  Fait attention!  Je suis votre nouvelle professeur de francais."  He said, turning and facing the rest of the class. 

            "What?"  John said, snapping the hold the new teacher had on the class.  "Speak English for God's sake!"

            "Garcon, you should understand at least that much of French," the new teacher said, a French accent apparent on the English words, though slightly clipped with annoyance.  This drew blank looks from most of the class, except Sassy and Jamie.  Sassy coughed lightly to draw Jamie's attention to her.  Once Jamie looked at her, Sassy raised her eyebrows.  Jamie raised her eyebrows at Sassy also, then turned to John.

            "He said 'Class, pay attention.  I am your new French teacher.'"  Jamie said softly.

            "Tres bien, mademoiselle," the new teacher said, with a hint of surprise in his flawless French.  He regarded her again, briefly as Sassy turned to John herself.

            "If you didn't understand that either, that meant 'Very good, miss.'"  Sassy remarked sarcastically.  She turned back to the front of the room, the smarter half of the class giggling.  The new teacher cocked his head to the side at her, and Sassy mirrored his movement.  Jamie giggled behind her hand.  Spike chuckled.  Angie just shook her head.

            "Very good, young lady...though I don't like that tone of voice," the new teacher said.  Sassy snorted.  Angie could read her mind from across the room: 'Too bad!'

            "Since this seems to be a rather French-impaired class...I shall conduct this first class in English," the new teacher said in his languorous accent.  "I am your new French teacher.  My name is Monsieur Tharen.  I expect that we will be speaking French during two thirds of the class time, shortly."

            "What happened to Mrs. Rubera?"  Marissa asked.

            "She had a nervous breakdown," Monsieur Tharen said matter-of-factly.  "She's in an...  Institution right now."

            "Yes!"  Kristin said,  "We finally sent her to the crazy bin!"  She turned to Marissa.  "Bomb Squad!" she cheered, high-fiving her.  Monsieur Tharen turned to her, and the class could almost sense his temper rising.

            "Mademoiselle, please return to your regular seat and replace that chair to the teacher's desk at once," he demanded sternly.

            "But Mr. Tharen, Mrs. Rubera always lets me—" Kristin began whining.

            "Je suis Madame Rubera?"  M. Tharen inquired quietly. 

            Again, blank looks and silence.  Sassy and Jamie sighed.  "Am I Mrs. Rubera?" they translated, in stereo (where available). 

            "I beg your pardon.  Continuing, I am not Mme. Rubera, therefore I will not conduct my class in the same way she did.  That is the first point we must get straight.  I insist on complete respect from all of you."  M. Tharen said.  "Now Kristin, we will wait for you to replace the chair."  Kristin blushed and rolled the chair back to the desk.  "Thank you."  M. Tharen said as Kristin sat in the front row.  "Now, who can tell me what this class is on?"

            "Drugs," replied John, automatically.  Giggles from the back of the room.  The front half of the room expected M. Tharen to send him to the office.

            Instead, he said "Besides that.  What are you working on right now?"  Most of the class looked at each other vacantly.  What were they working on?, they seemed to ask each other.

            Jamie raised her hand tentatively.  "We're reading Cyrano de Bergerac," she said, barely above a whisper.

            "Ah," Monsieur Tharen said, sitting on Mrs. Rubera's desk, next to the computer.  "Savinien Cyrano de Bergerac.  How far have you gotten?"

            "The first sentence," Sasmoe supplied.

            M. Tharen's air was quizzical.  "How long have you been working on this?"

            "Almost a week," Spike said.

            "What exactly have you been doing for the past week?"  M. Tharen asked them.  Kristin laughed.

            "Mrs. Rubera is the easiest teacher to distract.  She told us stories about her cat, Frisky, who ate cigarettes..." she said.

            "Yeah, and her 'hearing aid'," Amy, another sophomore, said from the back of the room, next to John.

            "Do you have any pets, Mr. Tharen?"  Marissa asked sweetly.

            "Or hearing aids?"  Kristin laughed.

            "You will find I am not quite so easy to distract," M. Tharen said, something that was almost a smile curving his lips.  "I am sorry to say that I have nothing that you would find of interest to tell you," he said, looking acutely at Jamie.  She drew a deep breath in, slowly, hoping he would move those burning eyes from her.

            "You can tell us why you're wearing a mask," Angie said.  This was not like her, as she hardly ever spoke up in class at all, never to say something quite so bold. 

M. Tharen flinched slightly at this, though he hadn't broken Jamie's gaze yet.  He closed his eyes and slowly said "No."

"Oh, come on, it can't be that bad."  Marissa said.  "Why don't you just take it off?"  M. Tharen's muscles tensed up visibly, his shoulders hunching up a little.

"No, now please..."

"Come on!  Take it off!"

"Yeah, Mr. Tharen, take the mask off!"

The entire class started egging him on, pleading with him to take his mask off, but this time it was Jamie and Sassy who fell silent.  They looked at his apparent growing rage, and then at each other.  Sassy nodded.

"Guys, quit it!" she yelled.  No one was listening.

"Come on guys, leave him alone, it's his first day!"  Jamie pleaded.

Andre, one of John and Amy's friends, who was always getting in fights with Kristin, turned to her and Sassy, taunting "Teacher's pet." 

Jamie blushed red and Sassy hissed "Shut up Andre."

"Ce SUFFIT!"  M. Tharen roared, standing up.  "Taisez-vous!  Voulez-vous savoir?" he asked, enraged.  The vacant looks were altered by fear this time.  "Voulez-vous savoir?" he repeated.  "Ah, I've forgotten.  You don't understand French," he spat.  He walked around to face the chalkboard behind the desk, apparently calming down.  "Mademoiselle who is wearing the blue velvet, please do not translate," he said, still facing the chalkboard, his voice barely audible, yet courteous. 

"Oui, monseiur," Jamie said quietly.  Sassy, ever the one to be literal, opened her mouth to translate his outburst herself.

"Vous aussi, mademoiselle who is wearing the 'Bad Monkey' shirt," M. Tharen said.  He turned around and began to speak in cold, even tones.  "You will all read the first scene of Cyrano de Bergerac tonight for homework."  The class began to protest.  "Tomorrow I expect to be able to have a few of you act it out for us, using your books, of course, and be able to discuss it intelligently," he paused "In French."  The class moaned as the bell rang.  In one motion, everyone in class bolted for the doorway except for Jamie, Angie, and Sassy, all of whom were incredibly slow.  As Jen, another sophomore, bolted for the doorway, she knocked the books off Jamie's desk and onto the floor.  Jamie groaned as her sheet music from chorus fanned out on the dirty tiled floor.  She walked around her desk and bent over to pick it up, practically bumping heads with M. Tharen, who was stopping to help her.  She looked up at him.

"Thank you," she said. 

He looked down at the songs in his hand.  "Birdland, 42nd Street, I Am But A Small Voice, The Battle Hymn of the Republic, Soon It's Gonna Rain," he read off the title of each piece of music. 

"All I Ask of You, too," she said, displaying the sheet music in her hands.  He looked at her and smiled.

"You're in chorus then?" he asked rhetorically.  "Which one?"

"Concert Choir," Sassy piped up, naming the second highest chorus.  "We both are," she continued as they looked up at her.  Angie joined them, standing to the left of Jamie's desk.  Jamie and M. Tharen stood up, and M. Tharen gave Jamie her music back. 

As Jamie loaded up her backpack, M. Tharen asked "Are you auditioning for Chamber Chorus this year?", naming the highest chorus.

"Yes," Sassy and Jamie said simoultaneously.  "How do you know about Chamber?" Sassy asked, curious.

"I've talked to Mr. Gori," he said, identifying their choral instructor.  Jamie finished loading her bag and heaved it on one of her shoulders. 

"Um, Mr. Tharen, I'm really sorry about what I said," Angie began.  "I just thought it might be an interesting story..."

"It is," he said, quietly.  "Perhaps some day I'll tell it."  He looked at them. 

"I'm Angie," Angie said by way of introduction.

"Sam," Sassy said. 

"My name is Jamie," Jamie said, offering her hand.  He started, then glanced at it for a second before hesitantly shaking it, then snatching back his hand quickly, as if he thought she would hit him. 

"Pleased to meet you, mademoiselles."  He looked over all three of them, pausing to glance back at Jamie.  "You must sing something for me some time," he said, directing this at Sassy and Jamie. 

            "We'll learn something in French," Sassy laughed.

            A hint of amusement crept into his voice.  "I'll have to correct your pronounciation then," he retorted.

            "Feel free," Jamie volunteered. 

            "C'mon guys, we better get to class," Angie said.  She headed for the doorway, Sassy following her, and Jamie dragging her feet behind Sassy.

            "Au revoir, Monsieur Tharen," Jamie called as she was yanked out of the room.

            M. Tharen watched the three girls disappear into the mass of students crowding down the hallway.  "Au revoir, ma petite," he whispered.  Somehow, he felt that period one was going to be his favorite class...