Author's Note: SORRY FOR THE VERY LATE UPDATE! NO MORE SCHOOL, THOUGH! YESSSSS! Only four reviews. Oh well.
Reviewers:
Moon Avenger: Well, we all die someday, somehow.
Lost my sanity: Your question shall be answered in this chapter.
Haley Macrae: What idea? I MUST KNOW!
Opal Gimstone: Well…her hair wasn't really pretty. I was evil to Tassy and made it a washed out, ashy-brown color. So that was ONE motive to dye it…
Disclaimer: Me no ownie.
Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart
Anne Frank
History Repeats Itself
Chapter 8
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(I dedicate this part to Opal Gimstone)
"But…but Celia! Why can't you buy me…jeeens and running…shoes?" Erik protested as he was dragged up the stairway.
Because the experience will be good for you, Celia replied stubbornly.
"It's only clothing!"
Only clothing? She scoffed as she pulled him with surprising strength out of the trapdoor and onto the pavement. It was a warm Tuesday afternoon, with the sun almost blinded Erik.
"But it's daylight!" he protested as she led him around the Community Center.
You look fine, she persisted. Erik ripped his hand from her grasp.
"I look fine?" he said. "I'm definitely the opposite of fine! I'm wearing a mask. That's a little odd, don't you think?"
Wear something else, then, she told him absently.
"What? Should I place a sack on my head?"
If it bothers you so much, why don't you try walking around without it? Celia replied tantalizingly, putting her hands on her hips.
"Are you crazy!" Erik protested, his voice rising to a high, panicking pitch. "Do you know how people would react?"Celia's chest heaved, like she was sighing.
Society is different now, Erik, she said. Yes, deformity still attracts stares, but it is not referred to as the Devil's blessing, or God's curse—or however you want to put it—anymore. So you might as well let your entire face bask in the sun's warmth for once.
"I'm not taking it off," he replied coldly. Celia's deep emerald eyes bore into his, her expression indecipherable. She then flicked the fingers on her right hand to the left.
His mask flew off.
Instantly, Erik cried out and fell back in surprise, and instinctively put his hand over his marred face.
"Damn you!" he swore, his eyes flaming, blatantly showing how angry and betrayed he felt. Viper! Prying wench!
Celia suddenly seemed weary and sad. She knelt in front of him, reaching a slender hand out to him to help him up. In his anger and bitter resentment, Erik slapped it away.
You must do the things you think you cannot doCelia said gently in his mind. Erik's fuming gaze softened. Embarrassed by his behavior, he shook his head.
"Not yet," he muttered, standing up and picking up his mask, placing it back on his face.
Just so you know, I can see your face with or without your mask, Celia said mildly.
"I know," he sighed, not exactly sure how he did.
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"How could have humanity evolved so fast?" Erik said in awe as he stared at New York traffic inching its way along the street, after getting out of the yellow vehicle called a cab.
Many things, Celia replied, knowing his statement was mostly rhetorical. Mostly it was because quite a few geniuses were introduced into the world, the World Wars called for special technology, man's impatience; things like that. Erik grunted slightly in response, his eyes drinking in the amazing sites of the Big Apple.
Suddenly, in one of the cars, a young African American man pushed on of the knobs beside the 'steering wheel'. The result was music that Erik could not categorize. It had sharp, rhythmic staccatos, but the singer wasn't really singing. It sounded like the man 'singing' was reciting some sort of rhythmic poetry. Oh…and it was really loud.
"What in God's name is that?" Erik exclaimed to Celia, putting his hands over his ears to muffle the music.
Music. Well, a type called rap, Celia said. But as Bill Cosby once said, "Nowadays, rap deserves a 'C' in front of it."
Suspecting that the word she suggested wasn't complimenting, Erik nodded his head in agreement.
They came to a shop with large words spelling out, ARMANI EXCHANGE. Expensive-looking clothing on men and women models decorated the front.
Just then, Erik remembered that he had no money in this century.
"Celia…"
I have money, don't worry, she replied, signing with her hands to create the illusion that she really was deaf. As the two walked into the store, they were met with a blast of cool air…and one of those really annoying salespeople.
"Hellooooo!" the woman exclaimed brightly, a huge smile on her face. "How may I help you? Anything specific you are looking for?" Everything that came out of her mouth was obviously memorized by saying it tens of thousands of times. The robotic woman did, however, stare curiously at Erik's bone-white mask. Celia responded with some hand gestures.
The woman's smile was still glued-on, but she looked quizzically at Erik. For a minute, Erik still thought that she was staring at his mask.
"What?" he asked, blinking confusedly. And then something clicked in his mind. "Oh, my apologies!" he said finally, embarrassed. "She's deaf. She can lip-read though."
"Armani services all people, so she's welcome here!" she told him brightly. "Is there anything specific you are looking for?"
Obviously the woman was programmed with only limited responses.
"Um…Celia?" he turned to the Angel, who looked like she was enjoying herself at his expense.
Ask her to fit you up with a few casual outfits, Celia replied brightly.
"Can you put together a few…er…casual…um…outfits for me, please?" Erik asked the woman meekly.
"Of course!" she said. "Please follow me. My name is Jennifer." Jennifer walked briskly down the carpeted floors toward a sign that said 'Fitting Rooms.'
"Please, you two may sit while I rustle up a few outfits," Jennifer told them cheerfully when they got there, gesturing to cushioned armchairs in front of what looked like an entrance to horse stalls.
"Sir? What is your shirt and pant size?" Jennifer asked Erik. Erik's mouth kind of just hung open, like he was trying to say something. Just then, Celia gave Jennifer a slip of paper.
Shirt: 54-56x36-37
Pant: 38x34
Of course, Erik had no idea what these obscure numbers meant, but the saleswoman seemed satisfied, as she walked off briskly with her crazily permanent grin plastered on her face.
About fifteen minutes later, Jennifer came back, this time with a large amount of clothes in her arms. Taking a key out of her pocket, (obviously she had done this a few times to do this without dropping a single shirt) she unlocked one of the stalls and arranged the clothes, pairing one shirt and one pant, along with a couple of other accessories on a few of the outfits.
"There you are!" Jennifer said. "Tell me if you have any problems; I'll be right out here with your wife!"
Erik paled at that comment.
"Uh…s-she's not my wife," Erik told her. For the first time, Jennifer's smile faltered.
"Oh my goodness! My mistake," she gushed, also paling with embarrassment. "Well…um…I'll be out here then." She flashed him a weak smile.
Celia, of course, was close to hysteria at the little incident.
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For the next hour or so, Erik felt like one of those dress-up, little paper dolls that he had seen young girls play with when he was younger. Celia and Jennifer, for some odd reason, were able to communicate with each other even with Celia being 'deaf'. They used hand motions and appeared to agree or disagree on the same outfits and looked like they could discuss the color, size, etc. from what he could hear from the one-sided conversation (that being Jennifer the only one he could understand).
Women, Erik thought wearily as he pulled on his umpteenth shirt, the little paper price tag scratching his skin.
I heard that! Celia warned him inside his mind, although she sounded like she was quite enjoying herself. Erik sighed as he walked out of the horse stall. And that's exactly how he felt at the moment: A show horse.
Finally, when Celia and Jennifer seemed satisfied with five or six outfits, and Celia purchased them. Holding the bags as Celia cheerfully walked out the door, Erik asked her if they were going back to the Community Center.
Of course not! I have a special NYC tour planned for you tonight, Celia told him. Clubs, movies, shopping for me…now don't give me that look. You had your turn playing dress-up, now it's my turn.
She says it like it's a fun thing, Erik thought.
I also have a little surprise arranged for you, Celia added slyly.
"Oh really?" Erik replied.
Oh yes. Erik cocked an eyebrow. Ah, ah, ah. I'm not telling. You'll like it, though. Alright, let's go shopping!
The Phantom groaned.
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Finally, after about three hours of endless NYC sight-seeing and mostly shopping, Celia dragged Erik to a cab.
Tell him to go to the Majestic Theatre, Celia told him.
"To the Majestic Theatre, please," Erik told the driver. He just nodded, and entered the stream of traffic.
Erik and Celia didn't communicate on the drive, due to the fact that driver would find it odd listening to a one-sided conversation, and because of Celia's almost reverent stillness.
The cab stopped in front of a large building with lights so bright it was as if it was daytime. Limousines, taxis, and some luxury cars parked in the front. Erik paid the driver, and helped Celia out, and then the bags from the trunk. He then caught sight of the huge marquee on the building; openly advertising 'The Phantom of the Opera'.
"I should have known," he groaned. "Celia…" Erik turned to the silent woman, whose grin was as big as the sign glittering above them.
We're early, and we're not dressed for the occasion, she said simply. Let's get some of our purchases on so we don't look like hobos. There's a restaurant on the other side of the street. We can change in the bathroom. She then briskly walked across the road, Erik trailing behind, lugging around the three bags or so of clothing.
When Erik got into the men's room, (Celia had taken one of her bags that contained who-knows-what) he grabbed the first shirt and trousers he could find, went into another horse stall, and changed quickly. He didn't put on his new leather 'loafers', or whatever that robot women told him they were, but kept his black boots.
He glanced at himself in the mirror as he hurried to get out and meet Celia, and paused for a split second.
He looked…unlike himself. Instead of dark and mysterious, his light blue silk shirt and black slacks made him look easy and laidback. And for some odd reason…he liked it.
Ready to go? He heard Celia ask as he stepped out of the men's bathroom. He spotted her sitting on a cushioned bench next to the wall. She wore a deep red, sari-like dress with matching sandals. Her hair was in an elegant bun at the nape of her neck.
Approaching her, Erik bowed deeply and offered the crook of his arm for her. Celia gracefully accepted.
Decided to become a gentleman after all? She asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"For the night," he smirked.
The two walked out of the restaurant toward the theatre.
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"Everyone needs to sit in the seats on their ticket! No trading!" Mrs. Harrison barked.
"Have you ever seen this?" Brian asked Tassy as he sat next to her.
"You mean 'have you bought seats for, like, $200?'" she scoffed. "No, I haven't. I've only seen the movie. The only reason I could see this is because of the group reduce."
"Good point."
Just then, Kennedy sat in the seat on the other side of Tassy. She inwardly groaned.
Why must You be so cruel? She asked, her eyes gazing upward. Of course she didn't receive an answer.
"Hey Tassy," Kennedy said. Tassy plastered on a weak smile that looked more like a grimace.
"Hey," she said, her jaws threatening to be clenched.
"I like your hair," he said, fingering a golden lock that had strayed from its place at the frame of her face. Tassy's heart leapt to her throat, almost choking her. She forced herself to chill. "You look exactly like Meg Giry."
"Thanks," she replied, sounding just a little strangled. Oh, dang it, I'd dye it blue if you wanted me to! Just to match those beautiful eyes…
"Hey, look, there's Celia!" Brian said suddenly, breaking into Tassy's thoughts. She followed his gaze to a few rows back.
There she was. And with her was…who else? Erik. Ken nudged her.
"Erik's with her," he muttered.
"I noticed," she replied, her heart fluttering slightly at his touch. "I'm not surprised, though. I half expected him to be in the play." She laughed a little too harshly.
"You shouldn't be so critical of him, you know," Ken said softly. Tassy's heart suddenly, cruelly, dropped. She mentally kicked herself.
Great, Tass, she scolded herself. Now he thinks that you're a closed-minded bully.
Just then, the lights dimmed, and the play began.
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The next day, Wednesday, was tense. It was the first time they were running through the entire program before the actual performance in four weeks.
"Tassy, you're as stiff as a board! What's wrong?" Mrs. Harrison asked when Tassy walked offstage.
"I'm…just a little tense. Nerves, I guess. Trying to remember all the steps," Tassy explained weakly, seemingly struggling not to limp as she went to sit on a plastic chair.
"Alright, then work harder on it," she told her.
"Yes, m'am," Tassy mumbled. When the director turned to usher the people in the next scene, she took off her ballet shoes and massaged her feet, and then stretched to get herself fit for the Angel of Music scene. She cracked her knuckles repeatedly, flexing her fingers.
He watched her intently as she gracefully pranced onstage in her gold and black practice leotard. Why didn't anyone else notice the passion, and pain, in her dancing? Yes, there was grace, but there was also a dark, untamed beauty, like watching a panther leap from tree to tree in a dark jungle.
He had seen the movie Phantom of the Opera, and although she looked like Meg Giry, her dancing and personality was the complete opposite of the dainty, innocent blonde in the film. Why did Tassy have to try to be someone she's not?
"Hey, DJ! Start the music!" someone barked.
"Sorry!" he called as he went back to the stage controls.
As he heard Tassy's natural, clear, forcefully gentle voice ring out the first verse, then Kari's sweet, trained voice answer, he knew who the better singer was by far. He had to admit, though, that Kari could sing higher and better then she did before she started taking lessons. But Tassy was a natural-born soprano. She deserved the spot as Christine.
Too bad Tassy couldn't see that there was someone who could see…and perhaps love her for what she really was.
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Good God, she looked exactly like Antoinette's annoying, little ballet rat.
That was Erik's first thought when he saw Tassy walk in with her head held high and shining gold hair tied back into a loose ponytail. But he decided to pretend not to take notice. Obviously she did this just to get his attention. How juvenile.
Kennedy and Kari closely followed Tassy, talking about the scene 'Music of the Night'.
Erik stood up from his usual place at his organ to greet them, as he usually did.
"Have we all practiced?" he asked. All three nodded. "I watched your rehearsal this afternoon. Very good. Kari, you certainly improved. I'll make a star out of you yet." Kari beamed at the Phantom's rare praise. "And Kennedy…you have already taken the stage completely." Ken also gave a smile, although shy. Erik then turned to the fierce-eyed Tassy. "Miss Williams, you danced very well, but you are still sounding too harsh in the Angel of Music scene. I had thought that your lessons helped correct that." Tassy's pompous stature fell to pieces at the comment. She glared angrily, but kept her voice cool.
"I'll try harder to be more gentle…sir," she said. She then looked him up and down "And may I applaud your costume change…it suites you."
It was true. He was wearing one of the new outfits that Celia had bought for him; a deep red satin button-up and a pair of dark jeans. He did look rather dashing.
"Thank you," he replied simply. "Now…" He looked at Ken and Kari. "You two can start our lesson by playing out your part in 'Point of No Return'. You need to work on your acting. And then Kari and Tassy can work on the 'Angel of Music' scene. Tassy needs to polish up her singing."
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Tassy knew that she worked her hardest, but obviously it wasn't good enough. What's the point of being taught if her teacher won't praise her? It seemed that all men were the same in her eyes: She isn't worthy if she doesn't please them. Her father was the same way with her and her mother. Good riddance. At least Kennedy wasn't that way. He was the only guy who appreciated music like she did, anyway. But, of course, he didn't really notice her either.
She was like a ghost. In her house and anywhere else. Nobody notices her, and no one ever will.
No, she shook her head. Suicidal thoughts there. Life wasn't that bad. People do notice me.Ken did when I dyed my hair. Maybeit opened up a new part in him that can see me...for me.
Couldn't get worse, anyway. At least she still had the chance to win over Ken's heart. Hopefully.
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Author's Note: Again, sorry for the late update!
Review pwease!