Chapter 2
Note- I don't own any of this. Not Erik (drool) or any of the Characters except for Noelle. I would have put that in earlier, but I figured that anyone with any morsel of common sense would not think that I did. Thanks for all the reviews. Hope you like this chapter!
Queen Ame- Hee hee! Thanks! Christine can be a wuss. Noelle isn't, as you will see later.. evil laughter booms, a maniacal laugh sounds.
Meg lead Noelle to the dorms. They were crowded and noisy, the girls all coming together and chattering in large groups. They smelled, and the bunks were packed, leaving a limited amount of space in the room to breathe, let alone have some privacy. Meg sighed, and lead Noelle to a back corner, where there was another girl sitting on a bunk. Noelle recognized her as Christine Daee, the first girl who had auditioned.
"Bon jour," Meg said, sitting down on the bed with Christine. She gestured to the packed room.
"Well, this is as good as it gets. You can have the bunk above Christine. I'll stay here too, for tonight."
Christine explained, "She usually stays in another room, since Madame is her mother."
Meg smiled and said, "I want you to feel welcome."
"Thank you," Noelle said with a little smile. She had put on the robe from before, and was feeling strange, since all the other girls were wearing loose, comfortable clothing. Noelle had but three different changes of clothing; the very expensive dress she had worn when she had left her house, the leotard, and another dress. She supposed that she could sell the gaudy dress for money, but she couldn't bring herself to part with it.
She awkwardly climbed the ladder and sat down on her bunk. It had white sheets, and was clean, if a little over-used. She sat down, having a clear view of the girls, who were still chattering and gossiping. She lay down, resting and thinking. Meg and Christine, who were obviously friends, were sitting down below her quietly speaking. They obviously were best friends.
She reflected on her performance. She did well. Not the best, but she was better then some of the girls there. Not that she was arrogant. No, she was good at speaking blatant truths to herself. It was something that she had to learn, in order to cope.
Noelle began to listen to the girls' conversation. There was rapid talking back-and-forth, and much of it she did not understand. There was a name that kept coming up in conversation; Carlotta.
Noelle bent her head down to the bed, where Christine and Meg were engaged in an avid conversation.
"Um, excuse me, I don't mean to seem ignorant, but... who's Carlotta?"
Meg and Christine looked at each other and laughed. It was a kind, gentle laugh, but it still hurt a little bit. She felt a little sheepish, as if she were a bit dull.
"Carlotta is.. The primary soprano for this theater. She is..." Christine looked to Meg for help.
"She is the kind of woman that thinks she is the only one in the universe who matters. She is a horrible singer, and acts like the is the best in the world," Meg elaborated.
Noelle nodded. "Thanks."
She sat back on her bed. She knew Carlotta's kind of women. She had actually made friends with people like that before. She wondered belatedly if they ever thought of her like that. She chucked, a sorry little sound. A month of nearly-starving in Paris' slums had changed her view of herself. There, no one care how well you sang, who you were the daughter of, or anything else. It was only a mad rush for survival and food.
One of the girls, an especially loud and gregarious one, clapped her hands together and said excitedly, "Everyone hush now! Leona is going to tell us a story now... about the Phantom." The girl had a whiny quality to her voice that grated on Noelle's nerves. All the girls began to gather around a buxom red-head, who was waiting quietly, relishing the attention.
Noelle sighed and slid off her bed. She had a kind of insatiable curiosity about the Phantom. Meg's words came back to her.
There are... rumors that something, someone, lurks beneath this opera. He wears a white mask, and is very dangerous. We know him as the Phantom of the Opera, or the Opera Ghost.
Noelle smiled gently. She was the same age as everyone else there, but felt ages older. Maturity weighed on her, pressing her down with a burden. Forced maturity.
She sat down, acting as all of them, but feeling separate.
Leona, the red-head, began in a hushed voice.
"It is rumored that once, in a small village, a woman gave birth to a boy. But it was not an ordinary boy."
They obviously knew the story well. Leona paused, bathing in the attention.
"This boy had a strange... deformity. It is said that the left side of his face is scarred, horribly." She paused again, hearing the gasps of the girls around her. She smiled and continued on.
"It is said that there is only a strange gap on the left side of his face where a nose should be, and that he is a monster."
Noelle felt disgusted. Not from the physical description, but from the sick fascination the girls had from this subject. They listened with uncanny rapt attention, like a cat watching a mouse. And this boy that Leona was describing... he was their prey.
"His mother could not even stand his face. So one day, he ran away. He came to the gypsies, where he was known far and wide."
Leona smiled, flashing perfectly white teeth.
"Then one day, the boy got fed up. He slowly waited while his master was counting the money, the reached out and slowly slipped the rope off of his wrists."
Leona reached behind herself. Apparently this story also had props.
"He slowly, slowly slipped the rope around his neck...and strangled him!" Leona brought a piece of rope out from behind her back and showed it to the girls. They giggled and squealed in fright.
Leona's eyes were wide. Noelle felt queasy. She left and returned to her bunk, silently fuming over how the girl was telling this story. Noelle had seen something, and she knew it was not her imagination. If this was the explanation they had for the Phantom of the Opera, then she would find some other one. This was ridiculous.
Leona continued. Despite Noelle's best attempts to block the noise out of her ears, the girl's low, husky voice still continued.
"It is said that then, he ran away, and even now, haunts this very Opera house, and that whoever incurs his wrath... will be hung up with a Lasso!" She once again held up the rope. All the girls playfully gasped once again. But this time, Mme. Giry stood in the open doorway, fury clearly stained on her face.
"Leona Marie Devier, you will come see me outside at once!" Her voice was tight, and obviously she was fighting for control of it. Leona swallowed, and Noelle smiled in her bed, a dark little grin. She was glad someone had put a stop to that. Whatever Leona got from Mme. Giry, she would deserve it. Noelle heard Meg say softly to Christine,
"Mother does hate it when we discuss the Phantom," Meg said. She and Christine had slid back onto the bed while Leona was talking, during the time she held up the rope.
"Yes, she does." Christine frowned. "Why should she? Leona is a twit, but she knows the stories aren't real. Madame knows that too, so why should it be so upsetting?"
Meg looked softly up above her, where Noelle was silent. She wondered if the girl had been imagining things, or if she really had seen the Phantom of the Opera. Meg could never admit so to Christine, but she had a suspicion that there really was a phantom, and he really did haunt the Opera. She knew it was silly, but things her mother had done in the past had lead her to believe so.
Mme. Giry returned with Leona next to her. Leona was pale, and it was clear there would be no re-tellings of the Phantom's past from her. Mme. Giry stood in front of them, clearly no less angry. Her height and the fact that she used a cane did not make her any less intimidating.
She said angrily, "There will be no more talk of 'The Phantom,' or any such thing. All of you will keep your mouths shut. This is the last word I expect to have to say on this subject."
The ballet mistress whirled around and shut the door, leaving the girls alone.
Anxious talk (not of the Phantom) began to bubble up from the girls. Meg and Christine continued their conversation as normal. But Noelle was laying calmly down, deep in thought about the one they called The Phantom.
The subject of Noelle's muse was right then planning to go speak with her. Erik donned the black cape, feeling powerful. He was a different man then the one he had been a little bit ago, feeling grief in the dark. He was the Phantom now, and this opera was his. So would be the woman who, getting out of her bed, suddenly had an inexplicable urge to go out and explore the Opera. She, in time, would be his to command.
He swallowed briefly. And, in time, he thought, maybe she could grow to see him as more then a monster, more then a strange ghost who flitted around the Opera. Perhaps, in time, he could tell her his name, have her... love him. The words sounded strange in his mind. Someone... love him? He could never, ever show her his face, not if that was what he wanted. No, he could hide from her, hide a part of his soul, hoard it selfishly to himself, until the one day came. The day when she would take off his mask, and he would see the same look of revulsion he had all of his life.
He straightened visibly, and told himself to think no more. He had a task to accomplish, and accomplish it he would. He set off in the boat in pursuit of that mission, and the candles slowly flickered out behind him.
