A special Thanx to Locked Heart Ami and Lady Bianca for sending me my first reviews and being honest. I love it when you tell me the truth as much as I like compliments! I will try my best to make my characters more believable and evil Eric up a bit. I was annoyed at myself 4 that you know. I'm glad people are reading this. Please keep up the reviews you wonderful critics!
Erik played a few chords. He was restless. The child puzzled him. He puzzled himself. He hadn't spoken with anyone in three years, not since Christine. He had revealed himself to a complete stranger. And worse, he had told her that she had a nice voice. It certainly had a pretty sound, but there was no quality, no refinement that made it special. He pounded his fist. What possessed him? What was so special about her? She was just a slut's child who wasn't good enough to get into an opera.
Why had she looked at him like that?
Meg twirled on her toes down the hallway. " How did I do?"
" You were fine." Claire said. " The dance solo was great. I loved it."
Meg studied the other girl. " Either I did terrible and you're lying, or something is on your mind." Claire stared. " Well you're making this face." Meg demonstrated. " And you don't talk, you're just mumbling." Claire shrugged. Meg took her hand. " Come on, we're all going out to celebrate our last rehearsal. You come with me."
" Was that an order or just a question in bad french?" Claire said. Meg rolled her eyes. Claire sighed. "Anyway, what ever it was, I'm not going."
" Why not?"
" It's for you." Claire said. " You're ballet friends don't want the mop girl tagging along, do they?"
" I want you to tag along." Meg insisted. " Please come."
Claire shook her head. " You don't need me to have a good time. Go have fun with the actors." Claire blushed when she said "actors". She could never be one of them and if she went, it would only make her jealousy grow. " Meg, you can't understand. You're my friend, but this is something you wouldn't know about."
" How can I know anything if you refuse to talk to me?" Meg said, hurt. " Claire, just let me know what's wrong."
How? How could she explain to her best friend that she was jealous? Jealous of people who shouldn't be any better than her, but were. How could she tell Meg that she was just a child, sulking in envy? She couldn't. Claire turne to leave.
" Come on, Claire!" Meg pleaded. " There is nothing that you can't tell me." Claire paid no attention. " I know that you aren't a coward!" Meg shouted after her. " So stop acting like one!"
But I am a coward. Claire thought. I'm afraid of the ballet girls. I'm afraid of the Prima Donnas and the chorus and the directors and all of them. I'm afraid of telling my best friend the truth. And worst of all, I'm afraid of myself.
It was late when Claire finally got home. Uncle Quinn, mama's irish brother, was waiting for her in his favorite chair. " It's almost two o clock." he said. " Did they run rehearsal extra late?"
" No. I had a lot of cleaning up to do." Claire lied. " One of the actors tripped over a sand bag and it broke, so I had to clean it up." She sat on the floor next to him.
" Tomorrow's the big show, isn't it?"
" For the actors it is. For the audience it is. It's just another floor to wash, for me." Uncle Quinn pat her hair.
" Someday, that will be you on a stage." He laughed. " And someday, the Home Away From Home Inn will become the most famous inn in all of France."
" I hope so." said Claire. " Because I'm not even going to try singing for your customers without voice lessons." Claire sighed. The Inn was failing and teachers were expensive. Quinn was trying, but between payments and his love for drink she wasn't going to sing anywhere but in her sleep. (Quinn and the boys complained of that constantly.)
" It will. Trust me on this one." Quinn lit his pipe. " You got to trust me on this one, I've got a good feeling."
" I trust you, Quinn."
Erik played a few chords. He was restless. The child puzzled him. He puzzled himself. He hadn't spoken with anyone in three years, not since Christine. He had revealed himself to a complete stranger. And worse, he had told her that she had a nice voice. It certainly had a pretty sound, but there was no quality, no refinement that made it special. He pounded his fist. What possessed him? What was so special about her? She was just a slut's child who wasn't good enough to get into an opera.
Why had she looked at him like that?
Meg twirled on her toes down the hallway. " How did I do?"
" You were fine." Claire said. " The dance solo was great. I loved it."
Meg studied the other girl. " Either I did terrible and you're lying, or something is on your mind." Claire stared. " Well you're making this face." Meg demonstrated. " And you don't talk, you're just mumbling." Claire shrugged. Meg took her hand. " Come on, we're all going out to celebrate our last rehearsal. You come with me."
" Was that an order or just a question in bad french?" Claire said. Meg rolled her eyes. Claire sighed. "Anyway, what ever it was, I'm not going."
" Why not?"
" It's for you." Claire said. " You're ballet friends don't want the mop girl tagging along, do they?"
" I want you to tag along." Meg insisted. " Please come."
Claire shook her head. " You don't need me to have a good time. Go have fun with the actors." Claire blushed when she said "actors". She could never be one of them and if she went, it would only make her jealousy grow. " Meg, you can't understand. You're my friend, but this is something you wouldn't know about."
" How can I know anything if you refuse to talk to me?" Meg said, hurt. " Claire, just let me know what's wrong."
How? How could she explain to her best friend that she was jealous? Jealous of people who shouldn't be any better than her, but were. How could she tell Meg that she was just a child, sulking in envy? She couldn't. Claire turne to leave.
" Come on, Claire!" Meg pleaded. " There is nothing that you can't tell me." Claire paid no attention. " I know that you aren't a coward!" Meg shouted after her. " So stop acting like one!"
But I am a coward. Claire thought. I'm afraid of the ballet girls. I'm afraid of the Prima Donnas and the chorus and the directors and all of them. I'm afraid of telling my best friend the truth. And worst of all, I'm afraid of myself.
It was late when Claire finally got home. Uncle Quinn, mama's irish brother, was waiting for her in his favorite chair. " It's almost two o clock." he said. " Did they run rehearsal extra late?"
" No. I had a lot of cleaning up to do." Claire lied. " One of the actors tripped over a sand bag and it broke, so I had to clean it up." She sat on the floor next to him.
" Tomorrow's the big show, isn't it?"
" For the actors it is. For the audience it is. It's just another floor to wash, for me." Uncle Quinn pat her hair.
" Someday, that will be you on a stage." He laughed. " And someday, the Home Away From Home Inn will become the most famous inn in all of France."
" I hope so." said Claire. " Because I'm not even going to try singing for your customers without voice lessons." Claire sighed. The Inn was failing and teachers were expensive. Quinn was trying, but between payments and his love for drink she wasn't going to sing anywhere but in her sleep. (Quinn and the boys complained of that constantly.)
" It will. Trust me on this one." Quinn lit his pipe. " You got to trust me on this one, I've got a good feeling."
" I trust you, Quinn."