"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."
-Margaret Wolfe Hungarford
The school stood, it's brick rugged and old, as a bittersweet monument to all students that had ever walked inside its halls. Here was the place where they remembered their first kiss, their first time failing or passing a course, and where they remembered the day that they knew what they wanted to do with their lives. Beside it was a newer, larger building with the Greek masks of comedy and tragedy etched in stone above what appeared to be the main entrance.
The school building itself was an odd shape. It was roughly square with rounded corners and a large courtyard in the middle, which had several trees whose branches overshot the roof. Classrooms were on either side of the wide hallways with lockers in-between and water fountains scattered around them. I easily identified the various age groups in the school, they acted the same as in my old school.
New freshmen stood in clumps of their own or wandered about with fear in their eyes and uncertainty in their step, trying desperately to find someone they knew to hang on to and find their homerooms with.
Sophomores had the mixed look of smug superiority at being older than freshmen but anxiety of upperclassmen that might play pranks on them. They wandered in packs also, and once in awhile a girl squealed excitedly and hug a friend she hadn't talked to probably since last night on the phone.
The juniors, being next to oldest in the school, tried to look bored and cool. The jocks swaggered down the hallway, confident that every girl drooled over him because he was on the football team and had a new letter jacket that boasted his on-the-field achievements.
Then there were the seniors who all had the blissful, faraway look that told anyone what they were thinking: "It's my last year!"
Into this din I walked and tried to avoid being trampled to death by panicking freshmen and late teachers. My first class and homeroom was choir, for which I was eternally grateful. Singing was my very favorite thing in the world, and though I hate to brag, I was good at it too. Dad always said I had the voice of an angel...
According to my map, I had to go through Symphony Hall, which was really an elaborate name for the combination orchestra/band room, to a door on the far left side which would lead me to the choir room called Concert Hall.
I entered the double doors to find myself in a large room with a balcony around the upper half of it with hundreds of instrument lockers for the band and orchestra students. Chairs already set up in the formation of an orchestra waited patiently for occupants. An old-fashioned upright piano stood near the front of the room, white keys betraying years of use and play.
The back wall was almost a whole mirror. It stopped about five feet from the ceiling but guessing from the bar on the wall in front of the mirror and the tiled floor, I inferred that it must be a dance room too. The thin girl in the mirror gazed back at me sadly and pushed a lock of curly dark brown hair out of her face. I forced a mask of joy on and almost laughed when I thought of the masked guy from the bus. I gently touched my reflection in the mirror. "We all wear masks... some more visible than others..."
Spying the door on the opposite side of the room, I started for it but turned when I heard the double doors that I had entered through open. My eyes widened as I sucked in my breath. It was the masked guy from the bus! He saw me, hesitated, then hurried past with his head ducked away from me.
"Good morning," I said politely as he brushed past. He had reached the door but stopped when I said this and turned his head slightly as if not believing his ears.
"Good morning," he finally whispered in a voice that seemed to echo slightly around me but at the same time was surprisingly rich and melodious. I continued towards the door like I had been doing before he had arrived. As I got closer, however, his eyes widened in fear and he backed up a step.
I bit my lip but stopped, feeling pity for him. "Thanks for letting me sit by you on the bus this morning. My name is Christine." I stuck out my hand and immediately regretted it because he just stared at it like I was going to slap him. For a tense moment I wondered what to do when abruptly his frightened demeanor was gone and he straightened up, bowed formally, and took off his hat.
Stupefied for a moment, I just stood there gaping at this drastic change in character. First he had been a fearful, scared teenage guy and in his place stood a confident, powerful, man.
"You're welcome. My name… is Erik," he replied. He had black hair but unlike most I had seen this color looked real and not dyed. It was neatly combed but hung to his ears and an unruly lock fell down over his mask. Now that I was closer I saw that the mask was made of a single piece of black velvet. It covered up the right side of his face, even his nose, and then tapered down to let half of his mouth and chin be revealed.
"So... is choir your homeroom?" I asked trying to look as if nothing had happened. His mismatched eyes glittered with suspicion as he nodded and opened the door for me. We entered a short dark hallway with two offices on the right side before the choir room entrance.
Erik again opened the door for me and I nodded my thanks. We entered a well-lit, noisy room, with a terraced floor and a chalkboard at the front at which a middle-aged woman with short, stylish blond hair in a pants suit was writing her name: Mrs. Celeste Lucas.
The floor was terraced, almost like large steps and had blue chairs on them occupied by students who were already chatting and making noise. I tugged nervously on the straps of my backpack and looked for a seat. Behind me, Erik was a silent specter once more but, oddly enough, I almost sensed his presence.
As I climbed the large steps to a vacant spot over to the left, the room was suddenly silent. I looked back and saw virtually everyone, but the choir director, staring at the strange sight that had appeared among them, Erik. He was trying hard to ignore it, that much was clear, with his head averted and hunched over shoulders, but the other students openly stared and whispered.