Author's Note: SO SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE! Nobody looks up here, so I'll put the important thingy in the Author's Closing Note…thingy…thing…

Reviewers:

Opal Gimstone: Yay! Someone noticed the not-missing-anymore verse and thinks I'm smart! (grins maniacally)

Friend5: Fine (pouts) I was hoping you wouldn't notice, anyway.

TerpintineMind: Yeah, I know. That and opening their mouth to shape those vowels. But I don't think that's much of a problem with Tassy, because, as you can see, she has a big mouth. Lol.

Moon Avenger: Yes, my Erik is a Cranky!Erik. Most likely due to Tassy's hotheadedness and Christine's…not-there-edness? I dunno. Don't know the exact word right now. ANYWAY…he's still very lovable. I also saw your review for my other stories. I had no idea it was you who wrote the Phangirl quiz! BTW, my s/n is CompassionateAngel.

Haley Macrae: I had to do that, or he would be VERY out of character.

Disclaimer: No. I don't own Leroux's great incarnation of hottness. Bah humbug.

History Repeats Itself

Chapter 7

OoOoOoO

"He can't be SERIOUS!" Tassy fumed to Brian backstage after rehearsal. "As if Kari taking MY spot in the play isn't bad enough…now she gets to have BOTH places of glory! Being taught by one of the best singers on Earth, and playing one? That's bull crap, my friend! BULL! CRAP!" She kicked one of the background props twice, one time for each word, and ended up knocking it over.

"Hey!" Brian exclaimed, jumping up to retrieve the fallen, half-painted cardboard from its perilous fate. "That's one I've been working on!" He backed off, however, when he caught Tassy's withering glare. "Okay…you can kick it all you want, then."

She just kicked the cardboard half-heartedly again before she slumped against a wall, sliding almost melancholy down in a sitting position on the floor, and began to mutter explicit curses under her breath. Brian just watched and waited for the last stage of Tassy's rants; cold acceptation.

"You know what?" Tassy said at long last. "It doesn't matter. Kari is the leading role, after all, so she deserves to be taught how to sing correctly. Who am I to say that she can't? That's Monsieur Erik's decision, not mine." She stood up.

"I'm going home," she muttered to Brian.

"Okay," he replied, not really expecting anything else. She left swiftly with one hand buried deep in the pockets of her dark green camouflage pants, and the other fiddling with her hair.

Knowing Tassy, she'll blow it off in a day or two, Brian thought as he bent over his slightly dented prop, wondering how to fix it up.

OoOoOoO

Oh, very smart, Erik; revealing yourself like that, Celia said scornfully as she confronted him in the dark corridor leading to his cavern-like quarters.

"I believe it was," Erik told her calmly. "It was short and to the point. Not to mention amusing to see the reaction on certain people's faces."

So very mature of you, Celia said sarcastically, but leaving it at that. They both entered the room; Erik veering toward his piano, Celia hovering (not literally) at the doorway.

Erik, I need to talk to you about something, she said, almost hesitantly.

"Mmm?" he replied obscurely as he sat on the bench, and started to play a soft melody.

I know this is a sensitive subject for you, but we need to talk about Christine, she told him. Erik stopped playing instantly, and slowly turned around. A look of calloused pain poisoned his demure stature. He said nothing.

You are suffering. You're yearning for Christine. I can see it in your mind and in your actions; especially since your little spat with Miss Williams. What is it that makes you resent her so?

She knew perfectly well why, but she also knew that getting Erik to confess his frustrations would be the first step of healing his internal wounds.

"She's…not Christine," Erik muttered. "Her voice is the same…but…she just isn't Christine. That's why I've been so restless. I don't have Christine to inspire me…"

And you believe Kari will? Celia finished.Erik sighed his agreement.

"Even reading every book I own couldn't push her from my mind," he told her, his face now fallen completely into helplessness.

Perhaps you need to stop reading and get a taste of this century, Celia suggested. Movies, music…and it wouldn't hurt to get a change of fashion. Erik cocked an eyebrow.

"What's wrong with how I dress?" he demanded. "I think I look rather…dashing in these clothes." Celia snorted. "What!"

You certainly complain about your looks so much that it's a surprise to hear you call yourself 'dashing'! Erik looked uncomfortable.

Anyway…your fashion sense is—this sounds corny—'so 19th century'. There. I said it. You need to go shopping. My, that sounds corny, too. But yes, some jeans and a nice crisp shirt would do wonders for your image.

Erik, like all men being included in a discussion of clothing, looked baffled. Celia stopped when she saw this.

I'm sorry. Human women are rubbing off on me, she apologized. But I think that you going into the city would help keep your mind off things.

"I guess you're right," Erik confessed. "But would anything be open at night?"

Honey, in New York City, EVERYTHING is open at night.

OoOoOoO

Kari Metherland spotted Kennedy after rehearsals.

"Ken!" she called. Ken turned around. She instantly saw the same I-don't-want-you-to-see-me look on his face whenever he spotted her. It sent a pang to her heart.

"Hey, Ken! Can I talk to you for a sec?" she asked, walking up to him.

"Yeah."

"Um, it's about the tutoring thing," she said. "When and where am I supposed to be there?"

"I usually walk with Tassy to our tutor's place, so we could go to your house and we could all walk there together," Ken suggested. "Practice is from eight to ten at night."

"Okay," Kari said, flashing her bright smile. "Where's Tassy? I didn't see her come out after rehearsal."

"I dunno. I didn't see her either…hey, there she is!"

Tassy was walking; actually, she was more like stalking past them on the sidewalk with her arms crossed tightly against her chest, heading toward her house. Her darkly outlined eyes glittered bitterly when they spotted the two of them.

"Hey Tassy, Kari is going to walk with us to Erik's…place, okay?" Ken told her as she passed.

"'K," she replied in a low, almost imperceptible voice. She just crossed her arms even tighter. Kari could see her fingernails digging into the skin on her arms, turning the flesh around it sheet white. She wondered for a second what had happened in her life to make Tassy so bitter and distant. But then Kari felt a familiar surge of compassion when she remembered how Tassy's father had left her family just a year ago.

Kari knew that Mr. Williams had a lot of money and drinking issues, and that he had been fired from his job just before he left. Tassy's mother had no idea where her husband had gone, but she seemed relieved after he left, and took up two jobs. Tassy, also, took up the long Friday night shift at the cinemas to try to add up to their meager stream of money. They lived one of those lower-middle class lifestyles, but they went on quite well after the departure of Mr. Williams.

Tassy, however, seemed to always have that bitterness in her eyes, even before her father left. Whether it came from living with a drunk, or something else, Kari had no idea.

OoOoOoO

Erik anticipated the arrival of his new student with the utmost enthusiasm. Already he had made out a plan of how to teach Kari Metherland. Over the past few weeks, he had noted what the major problems in her singing were. Mostly, from what he could see, she had been taught previously by some other person, but, as much as he hated to admit, she was still seriously flawed. She had a bad habit of not shaping her vowels and slouching as she sang.

He was pacing back and forth in front of his organ when the door opened. His heart quickened as his caught the first glance of those soft brown curls. He stopped pacing instantly and just stood rigidly as Ken and Kari walked into the room side by side. He barely noticed Tassy slink silently through the door behind them and headed toward the armchair on the other side of the room.

Erik bowed deeply to Kari.

"I am honored to finally be acquainted to such a beautiful young lady," Erik said flatteringly. Kari blushed deeply.

"Oh, well…thank you," she replied, appreciating the comment.

The very embodiment of Christine, Erik thought to himself. If only she had her voice…

"Mademoiselle," Erik began out loud. "Welcome to my home. You shall be practicing with me on Wednesdays and Saturdays from eight 'til ten, along with Monsieur Johnson…and Miss Williams. Your private lessons with me will be on Mondays and Thursdays from seven until I decide when we've done enough…"

"Wait a second!" a sharp voice called from his armchair. It was Tassy. "My practices are on Thursdays. How can that fit in?" Erik thought quickly before answering.

"Mademoiselle Kari here has much more to learn then you do," he said. "I think that you can suffice with just one private lesson, seeing as we have already started on Angel of Music." It was a very good explanation, but Tassy's expression suddenly turned from an aghast stare to a dark, loathing glower.

"I see," she said simply, her voice low and strangled. Erik could see she was jealous, and dismissed it in his mind as being childish. He turned back to Kari.

"You and I have a lot of work to go through to fix your voice," Erik said. "Have you had any professional vocal training?"

"Yes, I'm in my church choir," she said shyly.

Not much, but at least she'll know the basics, he thought. "Perhaps we should start with you first? Monsieur Johnson, sing with her on the song of 'Phantom of the Opera.'" Ken nodded obediently. Erik went to sit at his organ, and began to play the instrumental introduction to the song.

Kari struggled to reach the higher notes, but since most of the pitches were low, she did very well.

"Straighten your back!" Erik told her when she had begun to slouch once again. Kari obeyed, and found a noticeable difference in her breathing afterward.

Ken and Kari, Erik found as they sang the verses together, blended beautifully. Ken's powerful tones encouraged Kari to sing louder without overpowering her voice. Erik stopped playing, however, when they got to the point where Kari had to vocalize those extremely high notes.

"Very good," Erik said. "But now I need to teach Kari how to reach those high notes. You may go sit with Tassy, Kennedy, while I teach Kari." Ken nodded and walked back to where Tassy was sitting in a deep reverie.

"I want to see how high you can go on the organ. Follow you voice with the notes, please." He started with middle C, gradually getting higher until her voice cracked; an octave above G. Kari became extremely flustered when she couldn't hit it.

"I'm sorry," she muttered when he flinched.

"That's completely alright," Erik told her. He stood up and walked beside her. "We'll fix it. Now, I want you to not panic as you go higher. It puts stress on your vocal chords. Make it gentle, and let it float. Close your eyes."

Kari obeyed, but shivered when Erik placed a hand on her stomach. "Lead the note from here. Visualize it floating up to your head, and open you mouth as wide as you can." He pulled his hand away from her and tapped the G that he wanted her to sing. "I want you to lead it, but be gentle. Take a deep breath." Kari inhaled with her mouth wide open, her eyes still shut. "And sing."

The note flew from her like a dove, gentle and soft. She held it for as long as she can, and when she stopped, she opened her eyes. Erik saw the delight and triumph in them when she smiled.

"I did it," she said breathlessly.

"Bravissimo," he told her softly. "Now, let's work on getting it even higher…"

They worked for about an hour, until she was finally able to hit a high B. Erik stopped there, knowing that it'll put too much strain on her vocal chords if she sang like that too much. He brought Ken over to practice with him, and finally Tassy, who sang very well, but had no emotion in her voice.

For the last hour, however, he got Kari and Ken to sing 'Phantom of the Opera' and the 'Angel of Music' reprise together.

"Very good. Mam'selle," he looked at Kari. "You are a very fast learner. I look forward to our lesson together on Monday. All of you may go now."

OoOoOoO

"Tassy? Has anyone seen Tassy?" Mrs. Harrison asked as she was taking roll. "I wanted to run through Angel of Music." Everyone shook their heads. Their director sighed heavily. "Alright, then; we'll start the Masquerade scene instead."

"But she better have a good excuse when she gets back," she muttered under her breath.

She ushered everyone onstage. They finally had most of the background props done, so the stagehands were busy moving them into place; including the life-size version of the staircase.

"Alright, in place, in place please!" Mrs. Harrison barked. "Christine and Raoul are going to be on the side, beside the column…yes, there. No, Danielle, Madame Giry is beside Carlotta! How many times must we go through this?" The bodies of about a fifty or so actresses, actors, extras, dancers, and stagehands pushed and shoved their way to get into place. Finally, though, everyone settled, ready to begin the rehearsal.

"Good. Brian, turn on the music when you are ready!"

"Aye, aye, Cap—ee—tan!" Brian exclaimed from the control room. The loud, exciting background music boomed through the loudspeakers. The actors playing Firman and Andre approached each other, pretending to lift their masks off.
"M'sieur Firmin?" Andre asked.
"M'sieur Andre?" Firman replied. They both laughed. "Dear Andre
what a splendid party!"
"The prologue to a bright new year!" Andre replied.
"Quite a night! I'm impressed!" Firman exclaimed.
"Well, one does one's best…"

They then both pretend to raise glasses, and say together, "Here's to us!"
"I must say, all the same, that it's a shame that 'Phantom' fellow isn't here!" Firman guffawed. Then all the other actors/actresses, dancers, and extras begin to sing.

"Masquerade!
Paper faces on parade . . .
Masquerade!
Hide your face,
so the world will
never find you!
Masquerade!
Every face a different shade . . .
Masquerade!
Look around -
there's another
mask behind you!"

"Mrs. Harrison?"

A soft voice picked itself from the raising voices of the chorus. But the director brushed it off; it might have been a mispronunciation in the group.

"Flash of mauve . . .
Splash of puce . . .
Fool and king . . .
Ghoul and goose . . .
Green and black . . .
Queen and priest . . .
Trace of rouge . . .
Face of beast . . .
Faces . . ."

"Mrs. Harrison?"

This time the voice sounded impatient, but it might have been her imagination…

"Take your turn, take a ride
on the merry-go-round . . .
in an inhuman . . ."

"MRS. HARRISON!"

The director whipped around to face an annoyed-looking, grey-hooded Tassy. She waved at the group to stop singing, and yelled at Brian to stop the CD.

"May I introduce the late Tacita Williams?" Mrs. Harrison said coldly, talking to the crowd of teens and adults looking curiously at Tassy. She then turned back to Tassy. "May I also inquire if she has a written excuse to explain why she is late to rehearsal?"

"No, I don't have an excuse," she replied, her voice soft and neutral. Mrs. Harrison clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.

"Miss Williams; I might expect some of the newer persons here to be tardy, but certainly not you," she scolded Tassy in a low voice, like one you would hear from a teacher who pulled you aside to discuss a bad grade. "You know better, Tassy! You have been dancing here for near ten years, so I expect you to know how I feel about tardiness.

"This performance goes on in a little more then a month, so I'm going to have to give out consequences to those who are late. I'll let you go this time, Miss Williams, but don't you be late again, do you hear me?"

"Yes ma'am," Tassy replied in the same low, unemotional tone. Satisfied, Mrs. Harrison dismissed her, telling her to get into place. Tassy quickly maneuvered through the horde of people to get to her place beside 'Madame Giry'.

"Brian! Start the music up again!"

"Eye of gold . . .
Thigh of blue . . .
True is false . . .
Who is who . . .?
Curl of lip . . ."

"Tassy, put down your hood!" Mrs. Harrison said loudly, trying to speak over the booming voices of the performers.

"Swirl of gown . . ."

Tassy didn't move.

"Ace of hearts . . .
Face of clown . . .
Faces . . ."

"Miss Williams, do you hear me?"

"Drink it in, drink it up . . ."

Apparently not.

"Till you've drowned
in the light . . .
in the sound . . ."

After they finished the Masquerade scene, Mrs. Harrison told the stagehands to set up the props for 'Angel of Music'; one of the scenes that defiantly need work on.

"And Tassy needs to take off her hood! It's blocking her face!" she called after her as she went backstage with Kari, the boy who played Reyer, Kennedy, Danielle (Madame Giry), and a few dancers. The rest of the cast went to the audience chairs

OoOoOoO

Tassy had goosebumps of excitement running up and down her arms and legs as she lagged behind the cast walking backstage to do 'Angel of Music'. Her hands itched to remove her jacket, but she restrained herself.

"Didn't Harrison tell you to take off the hoodie?" Brian asked her as she past him in the control room. Tassy didn't reply. She had to wait until the last minute.

The group of cast filtered out through the back corner of the huge stage. Tassy lingered behind the curtain until Kari had entered onto the stage, and then took off her jacket. With a deep breath, she walked onto the stage with her eyes glittering wildly. Yet she hoped that this outrageous, silent, yet desperate plea for attention would catch the interest of one hidden man in the balcony of a certain Box Five.

OoOoOoO

"Oh my God! Is that Tassy?"

"No way!"

"That is just too weird!"

"First Kennedy and Kari, now this?"

"She is so desperate for attention."

"I know! It's pitiful, really."

"That look's actually kind of good on her."

"Holy crap! She looks exactly like…"

Tacita Grace Williams had dyed her hair a bright, sun-ray blonde. Instead of the frizzy, uncombed, and unwashed look of her usual dry, ashy-brown, ponytailed hair, it now hung loose to her mid-back, straight and smooth.

Amazingly, the color of her hair complimented her skin tone, instead of making it seem washed-out.

Even more amazing was that she looked like the spitting image of the movie version of Meg Giry.

"I love your hair," Kari whispered to her as Tassy took her place beside her. She didn't reply, just nodded.

Mrs. Harrison, of course, was undaunted. She ordered them to begin the scene.

"And Brian needs to start the music on time!"

The ballet girls from the wings gush around 'Christine' who hands each a flower from her imaginary bouquet. 'Reyer' stiffly gives his approval. 'Madame Giry' approaches Christine.

"Yes, you did well. He will be pleased," Giry said to her in a delightfully authentic French accent. She then turned to the dancers. "And you! You were a disgrace tonight! Such ronds de jambe! Such temps de cuisse! Here we rehearse. Now!"

The ballet girls begin to dance as Giry keeps time with her foot. 'Christine' moves slowly, downstage, away from the dancers as her dressing room becomes visible. Unseen by her, 'Meg' also moves away and follows her. As 'Christine' is about to open the dressing room door, the 'Phantom' calls out to her from behind the curtain at the far left side of the stage.

"Bravi, bravi, bravissimi…"

"Christine? Christine?" 'Meg' calls from behind her.

"Christine…"

"Where in the world have you been hiding? Really, you were perfect! I only wish—"

"Miss Williams! You are off-beat again!" Harrison snapped. "You need to follow the CD!"

"Sorry!"

"Brian! Start it over!"

The rest of rehearsal went by the same way; Mrs. Harrison would pick certain parts of the play they needed to work on, and made them practice over and over until she was satisfied.

"Alright, everyone! Before you all leave, I want you to take one of these!" Mrs. Harrison held up a large stack of papers. "These are permission slips to see the actual Andrew Lloyd Webber performance of Phantom of the Opera. I think it will be a good experience for all of our young actors and actresses. We are even allowed to go backstage to speak with some of the performers. So, please pick one up before you leave! That is all!"

OoOoOoO

Author's Closing Note: THIS TIME THIS IS REALLY IMPORTANT! I haven't updated because my grandfather is terminally ill, and I was visiting him in Canada, so please forgive my tardiness! Oh, and please check out my profile…especially the special list of people at the bottom…(snickers)

Click that little purple button…you know you want to…

Okay.

NOOOO! NOT THAT BUTTON! THAT'S THE COMPUTER SELF-DESTRUCT BUTTON!

Oops—

BLAM

Houston, we have a problem. We have lost all contact with LW2005 and Co.

THANK BLOODY GOD!