Hello again. The chapters before this were exactly as I planned, or nearly so. They went along the outline fairly well. This chapter, however, was the first where the story took on a life of its own. Is it better, worse? I don't know. All I know is, it hasn't stopped running away from me. All I can do is hang on for the ride. Tell me what you think!

Dear Papa,

I just got through my first day of school. So much has happened! I've made an ally, and three powerful enemies. The ally is Sara Cortez, who prides herself on coming from an opera. She's from Spain, and now I have a practical way to use my Spanish! I think that she will be a friend, but the rest of her group are still rather wary of me.

The enemies are Jezzelle Thernandier, the head girl and one day owner, Madame Trelass, the music teacher, and Madame Renifler, the headmistress. I take no responsibility for the mutual hatred that is between us. They are the most odious people I have ever met

School goes well. I'll probably graduate within the year, and then I will come back to our house on the lake. I miss you and Ayesha. I'm in all of the highest classes, just as you said I would be, and my teachers don't seem too bad.

Papa, I need to ask a question. Today, when I went into music, I was expecting, well, music! Instead, the old woman who teaches, Madame Trelass, announced that a guest speaker, a very old friend of hers, La Carlotta, would speak to us about making music a profession. Then out came this terrible old woman, very overdressed and with a voice that had broken long ago. She went up onto the stage, and we sat in the audience. I was interested in what such a woman could say, and I sat in the front row, center. She stood and looked out at us. She drew in breath to speak, and she saw me. The prodigious breath was let out as a scream. She yelled, and I quote, "El fantome! He has returned! Murderer! You killed my husband! Arrest... Save..." Then she fainted. Father, who did she mistake me for? I've only ever seen one mask like mine. Please explain this Papa.

Well, back to music class. Madame Trelass turned on me as soon as La Carlotta was taken out. "Well," said she "you are what scared her, aren't you. The new girl. Class, since our sspeaker iss indessposed, we shall ssee if our new companion iss as good in this ssubject as she iss in all of the otherss. Come up on sstage Mademoiselle. Let'ss ssee what you can do."

Well, I went up and asked what I should sing. She told me to sing anything, so I launched into Rosina's aria from The Barber of Seville. ( You told me not to go too high, but it is pretty difficult even if it is only mezzo soprano.) I got about halfway through and the woman yelled "SSTOP!" She has a terrible problem with her s's. "A bit of a show off, are we Angen?"

All I had wanted to do was to show her what I could do! That's what she had told me to do, after all. I tried to tell her, but she wouldn't let me speak. "For your pride," she said, "you shall not be allowed to ssing anything but sscaless for the next two weeks, and then we shall sstart you on ssome ssimple ssongs."

I shall be singing nothing but nursery rhymes for the next three months! Frankly, the woman is a perfect ssnake! I wish you taught here instead!

Your loving daughter, Lyra

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Dear Lyra,

It is as you suspected. I knew La Carlotta seven years ago, about a year before I found you. She was the prima donna of the opera. There is no way that I can explain everything that I need to tell you in letters. When you return for Christmas break, in two months, I will tell you everything. That is, everything you do not already know, which is probably only about a fourth of it.

It is dismal here. I've resorted to plaguing the ballet girls again. That tells you something about how bored I am. One can only stand so many shrieks at once.

The only really important thing that has happened, is that Ayesha is pregnant. I suspect Andre's old black tom, but I'm not really sure.

Rosina's aria was probably not your best choice in songs. Then again, you never did make very good choices when asked to pick a song. Thank goodness you didn't launch into one of your tavern ballads!

I've enclosed a copy of my new piece. Yes, I finally finished it. It will give you something to do in the off moments.

(Here there is a scratched out, barely legible, set of initials: O. G.)

Your Papa

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Dear Papa,

That was a very small letter for such a large work! I love it, but see if you like my changes in the third movement.

The first week is gone. Madame Trelass makes music terrible, I don't care if I did show off! I mean, scales, scales, scales! She won't even let me prove to her I know them. For the past week I have sung and played nothing but C Major, G Major, and D Major. I shall go mad!!

I wish that I was not instructing self defense. If I was supposed to be learning, I would have a reason to attack something. Instead, I have to wait until we demonstrate a new move to do anything. I'm going to ask for permission to use the gym at night, just to get some of this energy out. I cannot afford to lose my temper again.

Your writing skills leave something to be desired. Make the next one longer please, and I shall try to do the same. I miss you and Ayesha. Dump Nadir in the lake for me.

Lyra

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Dear Lyra,

I apologize for my letter. I'm used to short, clear, threatening ones. It's always worked with Andre and Firmin!

Nadir has told me to send you a "soggy" hello, so I am.

Tell me about this girl Jezzelle, and Madame Renifler. Describe their odiousness. How does they compare to the terrible La Carlotta and Madame Trelass? What have you tried to get them to stop? Perhaps I could help if I knew more.

The changes in the third movement were terrible. However, you did have a point with them. I made some, different changes, loosely based on them, and it is better. There is a copy of that movement in this envelope. No more changes!

I've set up a business. Yes, I am that bored. It's an architecture company, and I'm already quite busy. I work through a man named Leros. Right now, I am concentrating on a terrible, made to order mansion. I'll take you to the site when you come home.

How are you getting along with this Cortez girl? I checked up on her background, you could do worse. Both of her families are quite respectable, more so than ours at any rate!

Good luck with school, Papa

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Dear Papa,

I've done it. I'm sorry. For goodness sakes, stay clear of the police. I'll try to send another letter soon. I'm sorry.

Lyra

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Mssr Angen:

We at Madame Thernandier's School for the Musically Gifted regret to inform you of the expulsion of your daughter, Lyra Angen. Her personal effects follow this letter.

The Management

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Dear Papa,

My last letter needs to be explained. I'm sorry it was so short, but I had no time.

There was a Christmas Dance at the school, to send us off for break, and the teachers invited the nearby St. John's Academy for Boys. I didn't feel like dancing, so I was just walking about the room, keeping to the crowds. Sara was sick that day, and I had no one to talk to, so I wandered about, listening to the music and the conversations.

Then, I saw a little niche, occupied by a boy of no more than six. I sat and began to speak to him. He was quite a little fellow, and besides, he looked lost. He told me that his name was Phillippe de Changy,that he was named after an uncle, and that his parents had sent him to school to get an "edicatin." He had a passable voice, and was a very eager, if not impressive, conversationalist. The truth is, he wouldn't be quiet for two seconds together.

Then, in the middle of a serious discussion about horses, Jezzelle discovered us. She was towing a huge, oxish boy with the expression of a kumquat. She made a lewd remark, something about the genius and her boy toy. I sent Phillippe out into the crowd.. Then I remember standing and slapping her HARD. It must have landed farther back than I intended, because there was a snap, her head twisted, and she crumpled. I knew her neck was broken. I killed her, Father! I killed her! I truly didn't mean to. I'm sorry.

I ran. I made for my room, changed into traveling clothes, grabbed my case, money , and paper, and climbed out the window. I scribbled that first letter and ran for Paris. I'm wanted, I guess, because I was almost captured outside of Lyon. I couldn't risk taking endangering anyone in Paris. So, instead, I retreated into the country. It was my own good fortune to find the abandoned cottage I'm in now. I'll go to the village nearby to post this. I'm sorry Papa. I'll stay here for a couple of months before I come back, just to make sure that the coast is clear. I hope you'll let me come back.

Love, Lyra

See? I had no intention of killing off Jezzelle, or of getting Lyra out of that school so fast. It just happened! Erik's letters were extremely hard to write, so please don't flame me on them, but most of all, PLEASE R and R. Thanks!