I'M BACK!
WAHOO! In secret, BUT STILL!
I'VE GOTTEN 38 REVIEWS!
I'M ECSTATIC! AND ONLY WITH FIVE CHAPTERS, TOO!
Wish it could be more, but still!
Hahaha, shameless begging for more reviews here!
Well, I got into lots of trouble a couple nights ago---my parents found out about my obsession w/ fan fiction.
Wasn't too pretty, BUT, I actually thought they could have been madder than they were. It shocked me to say the least.
Unfortunately, they started reading a terrible Draco/Ginny fic I had been looking at.
Still, it could have been worse!
THANK YOU ALL MY WONDERFUL, SUPERB, TERRIFIC, BRILLIANT, AMAZING, INCREDIBLE, FANTASTIC, EXTRAORDINARY, OUT-OF-THIS-WORLD REVIEWERS!
Luv ya guys!
My response to your reviews will be posted at the END of the chapters from now on!
…I think.
I don't know!
As always,
Alianne
The Tirade and Parade (Hey that rhymes!)
"Christine…" his voice whispered in the wind.
"Yeah, Erik?" Christine leaned against a tree and didn't bother opening her eyes this time. It was wonderful outside, the sun was shining, and Erik's voice was so enchanting…
"You're late for class."
In freshman World History, Christine was diligently doodling away in her dark red Phantom of the Opera movie picture-covered binder and she couldn't even listen to her favorite teacher's lecture from the front of the room.
The redhead was giddy.
Okay, more than giddy. But wouldn't anyone be if they had met the supposed Phantom of the Opera?
Who knows what Anna would do if she found out.
Christine giggled and pictured her best friend chasing Erik around the classroom with a notebook, knocking over desks and chair, papers flying all around the room in order to get his autograph, or a hug, or something.
Nope, she couldn't tell anyone about Erik.
She cursed under her breath—which was a very un-like Christine thing to do, as she realized this would be an even bigger secret than the already ginormous one about her and a certain tall boy with a mess of black hair and warm brown eyes.
Stephen…Christine felt her cheeks pleasantly fizz with heat as she thought about him. His middle name's Erik, she thought bemusedly. How I miss him…Well, it's only what, three and a half more years until we see each other again. That's not very long, is it?
Heck yeah it is!
Christine scrunched her nose, trying to repel that line of thought before she got too depressed. She'd probably talk to him tonight, anyway.
After the parade, of course.
Strains from Meestah J's speech on 'His Extreme Shortness Nahpoleeon Bone-apart and da 'undred days war, mon and how da po' mon be defeated at Wah-tah loo' drifted through her ears.
The girl snapped her thoroughly doodle-covered notebook shut and resumed listening to her hilarious teacher who was now walking through the rows of desks handing out the last week's essays as he talked about the Congress of Vienna.
Mr. Jives was a short, squat aging Jamaican man with a thin face and shockingly white hair in tufts around his head, resembling a halo. His glasses were far too big and they magnified his brilliant blue eyes, and his outfit was no better—all the sequins and bursts of shiny metallics and neons made him look like a dragonfly. He had an odd taste in fashion, but it didn't take away from his teaching. In fact, it made the classes interesting for once. All the other teachers were drab, colorless, boring, even the music teacher there was depressing, making what should have been one of the best classes the absolute worst. Meestah J., as he encouraged his students to call him, was without a doubt the 'coolest old guy ever', as Anna once said to Christine.
Christine turned in her seat to face the window, which over looked the side of the school. She could see a thick copse of pine and magnolia trees and a small stick jutting out above the canopy.
The redhead squinted to get a better look at the small forest, but her contacts somehow managed to start blurring up. Christine had to blink rapidly to see straight again. By this time, Meestah J was at the seat right in front of her handing Constance her graded essay.
The president of the Thespian Society squealed when she saw the number written in green gel pen at the top of her paper.
"96! I got a 96! Who else got a 96 on theirs?"
Everyone in the classroom groaned—this happened every single time the essays were handed back, and every time….
No one? Oh, that's too bad," she said in a mock sad voice.
"Yes child, fantastic job! You've gotten the highest grade…so far. Keep it up, my child, and you might be able to pass up…" Meestah J took a couple steps to reach the desk behind Constance's.
"Christine's! You continue to amaze me, child! One 'undred percent! You keep making 'istory come alive like that, and I will nevah have ta grade yuh pay-pahs again! It is astonishing how you can capture da very essence of what it was like during da time of da French Revolution!" he praised the red-faced girl.
"Thanks, Meestah J," Christine mumbled, rereading her essay to make sure he wasn't lying about it. Every single class it was like this and the redhead still wasn't used to it. The tiny Jamaican skipped back up to the front of the classroom and started writing details about that night's assigned essay.
Constance turned around and glared viciously at the girl behind her. Christine looked up, satisfied that her paper was truly up to her standards like he said it was, and stared at the girl with indifference. Every single class this happened and the redhead learned that being submissive was not going to work.
"You…" the blonde girl hissed.
"Yes, it's me," Christine replied seemingly bored with the situation, knowing that this would antagonize her even more. Inside, though, she was quivering with anger.
"You're a cheater, you know that? No one can get perfect scores like that every single time. I'm going to find out how you manage that, and I'm going to expose you for the little lying Pandora you are!" she whispered nastily.
Christine's mask of indifference wiped off her face instantly. She jumped up abruptly, knocking her chair to the ground, fire blazing in her eyes. Her fury emanated from her body in waves, every fiber of her being crackled with electricity, finally releasing what she had wanted to say ever since the first class of the year with the girl.
"Cheater? You actually think that I would…would…CHEAT? How DARE you! Just because I WORK HARD at something and it gets its just reward, you think I CHEAT! And I'm not the cruel, self-absorbed, spiteful, vindictive, malicious Pandora, YOU are! AND STOP USING LINES FROM THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA! YOU ABSOLUTELY BUTCHER THEM! YOU DIDN'T EVEN SAY IT RIGHT!" the redhead spat. She gasped for air, breathless from her tirade against the smug girl sitting in front of her.
She heard a whoop from the other side of the room, "GO CHRISTINE! YEAH!"
Christine blinked, feeling like she had been dunked in ice cold water as she came out of her surreal trance.
The redhead slowly bent down to right her fallen chair and took her seat, speechless for the rest of the class.
The night of the Halloween Parade: Christine's house
"Christine!" Renee Chagny's voice drifted from the living room.
"I'll be down in a minute, mom!" the redhead cried, putting the finishing touches on her costume, humming little snippets from "Masquerade". Her hair was transformed into lush copper ringlets cascading to the middle of her back, and her costume fit perfectly, thanks to her mom. One day over the summer, Christine had been sitting on her bed stitching the bodice when her mom abruptly opened her bedroom door, and once the redhead told her mother about her plans for the costume, her mom immediately pitched in, making sure the bodice was just right and embellishing the skirt.
"You want to look like her so badly, don't you," her mom had murmured one day at the beginning of the school year.
Christine twirled around in front of her mirror, reveling in the way her skirt bloused out like popcorn. She giggled a little, and put the rose Erik had left by her bed that morning in her hair. Somehow, the beautiful flower had not lost any petals during the day, nor did it look anything but perfect.
Her heels were very uncomfortable, but what did she expect? It was only for a night, after all. Then she wouldn't have to wear them ever again—at least until Mardi Gras, and that was almost five months from now.
She grabbed her mask, and looked back into the mirror. She gently put it on, as it was a dainty black fabric that only covered the skin around her eyes. Her warm emerald green orbs were flecked with golds, cinnamons, and the faintest bit of blue around the edges. It was an odd combination, but it seemed to suit her.
Christine slowly descended the stairs, as not to get her hair or costume mussed. Her father was nowhere in sight, which was a good thing—she didn't know what she would do if he saw her dressed as Aminta. The bodice was a little low cut, not too showy, but it was enough to turn heads. Christine had never worn something such as this, and she wasn't used to it. But after all, it was only one night.
Renee Hunter-Chagny was standing behind the brown sofa in the living room when Christine came down the stairs. Her eyes went soft as she looked upon her daughter, and Christine could see they were over bright with unshed tears.
"Oh look at my baby! She's so beautiful!" she cried, rushing over to her redheaded daughter.
"Christine, oh Christine! You're growing up into such a fine young lady! Your father and I are so proud of you!" mother embraced daughter, and held on tight.
Renee pulled away, her dark auburn curls falling into her face, and she brushed them away with one hand, the other tracing the rose softly.
"Love you, dear," she said, going to the front door. The girl slowly stepped out of the house, and got past the little white picket gate before turning around and running back to her mother, giving her a bone-crushing hug.
"Oh mom! Thank you so much!" Christine said into her mother's shoulder. They both pulled away, and Christine turned around and went out the front gate and started walking down the street.
"Have fun and be safe, Christine! And remember to be back by 11:30!" Renee Chagny called to her daughter. Christine waved and resumed walking to the French Quarter.
Christine was assaulted with the sights and sounds of the festive French Quarter; every color imaginable was spinning around, the smell of the Halloween cooking wafted through her nose. Sadly, the parade had already come and gone, and at 8:00 the dancing had commenced.
Everyone had masks covering their faces, and they were dancing in the streets as if they did it everyday.
Jesters, goblins, kings, queens, satyrs, great birds, men and women in full Court Regalia and the occasional ghost or two swirled together in a great dance that wasn't interrupted, and the tourists stopped to watch the spectacle, cameras snapping away.
Annalee walked lightly down the steps leading from her apartment to the festivities below, searching for her best friend. She hadn't seen Christine's costume yet, and she couldn't wait to show off hers.
"Anna!" a voice called from her right, and Annalee saw Christine making her way through the crowds in her Aminta costume.
"Christine!" Anna shouted, pushing aside a pair of tourists to get to her best friend.
"Anna! Your costume is amazing!" Christine exclaimed. It was true, Anna had let her shoulder brown hair down, in big, soft curls, and her costume was a light pink ball gown of durable fabric, because dancing in the streets in silk is not a very good idea. Her mask was light pink as well, bedecked with tiny faux pearls and silver glitter.
"So is yours, Christine! Let's go dance!" The two girls stayed together for a few moments, until a tall blonde boy with a red mask dressed as a harlequin asked Annalee to dance with a flourish and a deep courtly bow. Anna giggled and went off with the boy, leaving Christine alone by a green flower stand by the sidewalk.
She stood there for a split second before another tall guy sidled over to her, asking her to dance. She agreed, and they were swept into the throng of dancers.
The boy had a mess of flaming red hair, and wore a green and gold mask with two long horns poking out the front. The mask was quite…intriguing, or rather, ugly. It looked like it would jump off his face and try to eat her if she wasn't careful.
And his eyes! They were blue, and his stare was quite disconcerting, to say the least. He didn't talk, just stared at Christine unblinking.
The redhead girl tried in vain to strike up a conversation while they twirled with the other dancers, but he just tried to slip his hands lower down her waist to grip her behind.
Christine gasped in shock and pulled away from his hold sharply.
"Just what do you think you were doing!" she asked, outraged.
"What?" he asked stupidly. "You likee?" he drawled, eying her bodice hungrily.
"No!" she yelled, stomping on his foot with her heel with one leg and kicking him in the family jewels with the other, and simultaneously, Christine slapped him, hard across one cheek and he doubled over in pain. "I most certainly did not like it at all!"
With that, she whirled around and encountered the chest of a very tall man who had a black velvet mask that covered half of his face, and one eye. His outfit was all in black complete with a cape, and he was beyond handsome, even with the half-mask/also surrounding one eye.
"Erik?" Christine cried happily. "You're here!"
"I am, little lioness," he replied, his voice entombing her in its sweet melodiousness.
Christine scowled and turned away from him. Erik grabbed her arm gently and spun her back towards him, continuing with the dance as if nothing had happened.
"I thought I told you not to call me that," she hissed.
"So you did," Erik replied. "But I'm not one for following orders, am I?"
"Darned Phantom," Christine muttered, looking out across the sea of the swirling colors of the dancers.
He bent down towards her ear, his warm breath tickling the hairs on her neck. "That I am, Christine," he whispered, causing the redhead to involuntarily shiver.
"I knew it," she whispered back.
"When?" he asked, slowly pulling away from her, his arm looping comfortably around her waist.
"Today, if you must know, Monsieur," Christine replied.
"Ah, I see," he murmured, his deep voice causing the redhead to shiver again. What's he doing to me? She wondered to herself. Stephen's been the only one ever to make me shiver like this. Why is Erik making me feel the same way?
It had to be the thought of actually being in the presence of THE greatest literary figure of all time, there could be no other explanation.
The continued to twirl around in silence for a moment, until he whispered again in her ear, "You make a lovely Aminta, mademoiselle," his breath once more made the hairs on her neck stand on end, but it was not a completely unwelcome feeling for Christine.
"Why thank you, monsieur. You make a lovely Don Juan, if I may be so bold to say," the redhead replied teasingly.
He chuckled, and the music from the speakers softened out of existence slowly as the song came to a close.
Christine glanced down at her wristwatch and yelped. It was already 11:26! She was going to be late for her 11:30 curfew, and she didn't want to have another shouting match with her dad- she had had enough of that for one day.
"What is it Christine?" Erik asked, his eyes filled with concern.
"Oh, it's nothing much. I just have to go home now before I'm late!" she cried, gathering her skirts and rushing off into the crowd. She stopped abruptly, turned around, and ran back to the former Opera Ghost.
"Thanks for the dances, Erik. I hope you can come with me and Anna tomorrow night to the play. Well, bye!" she said breathlessly, and hurried off out of the French Quarter, leaving Erik to blend back into the shadows.
Christine slipped into the house by climbing the tree leading to her bedroom balcony, and quickly changed out of her costume and gently placed the rose on her bedside table. She quietly rushed into her bathroom and took a short shower, and right after coming out, she sat down at her computer desk.
Darn it! He's not online AGAIN! I'll try to call him tomorrow, then.
The redhead sighed resignedly and closed the balcony window doors. Slipping under the purple comforters, she turned off her bedside lamp and went to sleep.
Upon awaking in the morning, Christine found a pure white magnolia flower lying innocently beside the dark red rose.
HAHAHAHA, I FINISHED! WoOt! I am so happy! HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY! I'M SORRY!
SORRY SORRY SORRY!
bawls into pillow
I'M SO SORRY YOU GUYS! I LET YOU DOWN!
falls silent for a moment, then bursts into hysterical laughter
I've officially lost it.
I'M DOING BETTER IN SCHOOL NOW! YAY!
ALL THANKS TO YOU GUYS!
coughcoughYEAHRIGHTcoughcough
It's very heart-breaking to know that John Paul II died. I'm Roman Catholic, and I seriously wanted to go to Rome for the funeral Mass—WHICH WAS IN LATIN, might I add, which is THE coolest language EVER---yeah, I'm taking it along with French, and Arabic, and I'm only a freshman in high school! Woot!
I want to go into Medieval Studies, well, more like Eastern European Near Middle-Eastern Medieval Studies, if I must be specific.
I plan on taking as many foreign languages as I can during these next seven years: OLD and Middle French, Arabic, Syriac, Old Latin, New Latin, Aramaic, Italian, and Romanian. -pants for breath-
I love Romania, and I don't know why….
I think it's their pop music, and the landscape.
Yep, definitely the music.
Nota Lone: OMG, YOUR REVIEWS ARE HILARIOUS! 'Foppish pleather'? snort I KNOW! But gypsies are awesome, though. I can't update "Red and Black" for reasons unknown to even myself. I SINCERELY HOPE YOU LIKE THIS CHAPPY! The next one will be out in….I have yet to specify.
BobMcBobBob1: HERE IS YOUR UPDATE! I personally like this one too—I had to write and rewrite it like a bazillion times, but hey! Isn't it good? -looks around and gives sigh of relief at nodding satisfied reviewers- YOU'RE GRADUATING! Wow! Good luck wherever you're going!
LiTTleLoTTe1991: Here 'tis! Thanks for reviewing all this time!
Maska: I love you too, girl! Vous est trés magnifique! I have many many many FANTASTIQUE ideas for this story, and I'll update soon!
ShadowFairy101: -cackles evilly- IT WAS TO MAKE YOU SUFFER! MWAHAHA! ahem But here's your update! I hope it will compensate for your grief! (That ALMOST rhymed…)
MayaRose: I am oober glad that you like this magnificent piece of art I am so diligently trying so hard to write:snigger: Work of art my arse... -gasp Language, dear Laura!- Hahaha, anyway.
Madame Opera Ghost: OMG, no way! Wait, what? Is your boyfriend never coming online either? Do you call him once a week without your parents knowing? And when you DO call him, he sounds super psyched to hear from you! Ahhh, he makes me shiver! Does your boyfriend make you shiver? He should, because that kind of feeling should be experienced! You have not lived until your boyfriend makes you shiver just by thinking about him! afterthought And hearing his voice…
And I'm babbling.
Darn it! That always seems to happen, too!
I AM SO GLAD THAT ALL OF YOU WERE WILLING TO WAIT UNTIL JUNE FOR ME TO COME TO MY SENSES AND UPDATE!
Just so you guys know, the next one will be up sometime next week, if I can manage that much! I DO have lotsa papers to do, so yeah.
Don't worry
About a ting
'Cause every little ting
Is gonna be all right!
Hahaha, Shark Tale is one of THE funniest movies of ALL time!
OK, this Author's Note is officially OVER!