Sorry that I took so long to update. I've had some kind of nasty flu, and have been laying in bed all day, re-reading Phantom and various other books. Here's another chapter (it's kind of short, but I promise the next one will be better.) Thanks again for all of the reviews!
Noelle woke up late. Most of the other dancers were already dressed. She felt... renewed as she had not in a long time. She did not regret the extra sleep. She stretched her arms long, blinking tiredness from her eyes, when she stopped in mid-motion. She remembered now the events the night before, and her delusions. Noelle shook her head. She had to focus now. Mme. Giry would be calling them in now, to tell them who had been chosen.
She quickly and silently got dressed. She was very careful with her outfit; if it got snagged in some way, she could not afford to replace it. Just as she was finished dressing, Mme. Giry came in.
"Girls!" she called their attention. "You will all now proceed to the theater. Once you are there, you will learn what is to become of your future in this theater." The older woman paused, and her gaze fell on Noelle. "Good luck."
Noelle kept her gaze downwards as she walked to the theater with the other girls. They were all silent as well, as if there was an aura that surrounded the theater that they did not wish to disturb. She realized what they were afraid of and grimaced. The Phantom. Her mind kept reverting back to the night before, no matter what she told it to do. She gritted her teeth and told it to keep silent.
They filed onto the stage silently. Noelle looked around, and the glory of the Opera-house began to overwhelm her. She had seen it the day before, but it was only now that she began to appreciate its beauty.
Red, plush seats were there, in both superb boxes and ground-level seats. There was gold and marble everywhere. There seemed not to be a corner that was unadorned. It was magnificent, a palace built for the rich to amuse themselves. Velvet curtains were on either side of the stage. Large backdrops were in the back of the stage, waiting to be revealed.
The sheer magnificence of it threatened to overwhelm her. She had been in the middle class before, but no where near wealthy enough to afford even the worst seats to attend and Opera. She had instead amused herself with learning how to dance and sing from old, musty books in the rotting library behind her house. The librarian had eventually given them to her, a short while before it closed. No one was interested in books. She was lucky that she could even read. Her father, before he had died, had taught her how.
She was abruptly stricken from her dreams by Monsieur Reyer tapping his conductor's baton on the stand.
"Christine Daee, Meg Giry, and..." He frowned at the sheet he was reading from, as if something was beyond belief. Noelle's heart was in her throat. She needed this job. She could not bear to go back into the streets. The only way she could possibly survive would be to sell her body for money... She felt chilled. She had to get this job. She had to.
"Noelle de Chanter," he finished. Noelle felt relief sweeping through her in a steady wave. She wanted to scream her thanks. But she did not. She waited while Mme. Giry spoke to the other girls, the ones who did not get in for the extra staff they would be needing for Hannibal. She thought, 'it is just as the Phantom said.' She then shook her head, amused. She might have gotten into the chorus, but she would go no further. She was not a wonderful singer, and her dancing was fair. Noelle was not made for great things.
All the other girls had left except for Christine, Meg, and herself. Mme. Giry said, "Congratulations. You are now part of the chorus for Hannibal. Rehearsals will be held every day, from 9 am to 5 pm. You will be paid 5 franks every day of rehearsal, and 20 franks for the performance. The ballet will supply lunch for you, and you may eat your supper anywhere you choose." She paused here. "After Hannibal, the Opera may choose whom to keep. You may or you may not stay. That is all, and I wish you my heartfelt luck."
Noelle wondered at the formal tone. She had learned from listening to Meg and Christine's conversations that both girls were like daughters to the Ballet Mistress. Meg and Christine began to walk away, and she felt like she should do so also.
She walked down the long, oppressive hallways of the opera. She would go to the Chapel, to pray. Noelle sighed. Little good it would do, for she was damned already...
Michael came steadily closer to her. She whispered, "Michael?" but it did no good. She began to walk away, slowly at first, then faster. He pulled a long, wicked knife out of its sheath in his belt. Fear began to pulse through her veins.
"Help!" She screamed loudly. "HELP!" But there was no one there, and if there was, they obviously would not do anything to help her. Michael caught up to her, and pushed her down into the mud and filth. He put the knife at her throat, and whispered, a evil smirk on his face, "There is no one who can help you now."
Noelle shook her head, as if to clear it of those memories. She was at the Chapel door now. She hesitated, wondering if this was the best place to be. After all, this was where she had her delusions. She shook her head. No, that was silly. This was a place of God, more of a sanctuary then anything else.
She opened the door and walked in. She knelt down on her knees and folded her hands. She softly murmured the words of the Lord's prayer. She heard something behind her but did not turn around. But then, a voice that she had heard the night before said softly but not weakly, "I told you that you would get in."
Noelle stood up quickly and whirled around. As she had suspected, a figure clad in formal clothes with half a white mask on and piercing green eyes stood before her. She whispered, only loud enough for her to hear, "So I was not only dreaming."
