"Oh Meg, I don't think I can do this!" Christine tearfully blurted out.
Sitting on the bed in her dressing room, Christine confessed her fears to me about the evening performance.
"Christine, you have sung the part often enough," I replied, thinking of the times we made fun of Carlotta. "You could sing this aria in your sleep. And your voice has been improving ever so much."
"Its different," Christine told me. "I haven't sung it in front of the Paris Opera!" She began to sound slightly hysterical.
I grabbed her shoulders. "Stop. That's enough, just breathe. You will do fine, now don't think about it anymore. You're making yourself sick. Christine, I said stop."
Christine looked at me. Slowly she said, "I.I suppose your right. I mustn't carry on like this; it's childish."
Suddenly someone knocked on her door. "One hour until calls, Miss Daae."
Christine glanced at me, then stood. "I had better get my costume, then."
"Good luck," I hugged her hard, then left to get ready.
As I made my way down the hall, I bumped into the new managers. "Excuse me, Monsieurs."
They bowed. "Firmin. Pleasure, mademoiselle," the short, older man said.
The tall one spoke up. "And Andre. As with I, mademoiselle. A pleasure." After a moment, he questioned, "You are one of the ballet girls, are you not?"
Firmin exclaimed, "Ah yes, Madame Giry's daughter. I remember now. The. the friend of Christine Daae as well, I believe."
I simply nodded.
"Well, good luck to you and your friend tonight, Mademoiselle Giry." Andre bowed and left.
I turned to go but Firmin stopped me. "You think." he paused, as though trying to find the correct words.
"Yes monsieur?" I asked, waiting.
"You think your friend can do this?"
I laughed. "Monsieur, there is no doubt in my mind. She will be wonderful. Now, if you will excuse me?" I edged away.
"Of course."
I walked off. In my own dressing room, all the ballet girls were rushing about dressing, doing hair, makeup, and reviewing steps. I went over to my corner and retrieved my tutu. After slipping on the frothy white gown and pulling back my hair, I surveyed myself critically in the mirror. To myself, I did not look the part of a ballerina. I lacked the charisma and assurance I should have. Or rather, whatever presence and confidence I contained was squelched, mainly by the Ballerina Prima. She had a way of doing that to me, to all of us. But tonight, I resolved, would be different. Tonight I would shine in my solo. I vowed that to myself and repeated it all through warm ups.
Five minutes until the performance, I again announced the oath to myself over and over. Suddenly I saw Christine enter, in her first garish costume. I waved and mouthed, "Good luck." She nervously smiled back, but seemed preoccupied. I sat on an old truck to await my entrance.
Suddenly the lights went off and the curtains opened. The music came on and Christine's voice came floating through the air. I gasped. She was incredible! I had never heard her, or anyone for that matter, sing like that. All around me, murmurs of amazement and approval echoed. I sat and listened to her until I had to go on. I almost missed my cue, but quickly I ran onstage and began to dance. The next thing I knew, I was backstage again, listening in the wings with all the other ballet girls. Christine was on her last aria and was magnificent.
"We never said our love was evergreen, or as unchanging as the sea. But please promise me that sometimes you will think of me!" Christine's crystal voice resounded through the opera. As she ended the last note, people stood and clapped vigorously. I myself clapped my hands until they were chafed. Blushing with accomplishment, Christine took bow after bow, a large fragrant bouquet in her arms. At last, the curtain dropped for the final time, and Christine made her way backstage. Everyone crowded about her, exclaiming over her. Christine took out single roses and handed them to the ballet girls. When she came over to me, she hugged me tightly.
"Christine, you were amazing!" I told her.
Christine smiled. "Thank you, Meg. This is all your fault, you know," She added wryly. "If you hadn't pushed me into singing earlier this never would have happened." We laughed.
"Ahem." A gravely voice behind us called our attention. It was Monsieur Reyer. "You did. satisfactory, mademoiselle," he stiffly announced. Then he quietly made his way into the shadows. Christine and I glanced at each other again and fought not to laugh.
A hand was put on Christine's shoulder as Mme. Giry kindly said, "You did well tonight, child." Christine shyly smiled and walked towards her dressing room. Suddenly the ballet mistress' tone changed and she announced sharply, "But you dancers! A disgrace! I have never seen such dancing in my entire life and hope to never again. We will rehearse." She banged her cane with emphasis. "Now."
A/N Are you guys wondering where I am going with all this? It might sound rather familiar, just a book version of the musical. In a way it is, but I haven't gotten to the good part yet.
Sitting on the bed in her dressing room, Christine confessed her fears to me about the evening performance.
"Christine, you have sung the part often enough," I replied, thinking of the times we made fun of Carlotta. "You could sing this aria in your sleep. And your voice has been improving ever so much."
"Its different," Christine told me. "I haven't sung it in front of the Paris Opera!" She began to sound slightly hysterical.
I grabbed her shoulders. "Stop. That's enough, just breathe. You will do fine, now don't think about it anymore. You're making yourself sick. Christine, I said stop."
Christine looked at me. Slowly she said, "I.I suppose your right. I mustn't carry on like this; it's childish."
Suddenly someone knocked on her door. "One hour until calls, Miss Daae."
Christine glanced at me, then stood. "I had better get my costume, then."
"Good luck," I hugged her hard, then left to get ready.
As I made my way down the hall, I bumped into the new managers. "Excuse me, Monsieurs."
They bowed. "Firmin. Pleasure, mademoiselle," the short, older man said.
The tall one spoke up. "And Andre. As with I, mademoiselle. A pleasure." After a moment, he questioned, "You are one of the ballet girls, are you not?"
Firmin exclaimed, "Ah yes, Madame Giry's daughter. I remember now. The. the friend of Christine Daae as well, I believe."
I simply nodded.
"Well, good luck to you and your friend tonight, Mademoiselle Giry." Andre bowed and left.
I turned to go but Firmin stopped me. "You think." he paused, as though trying to find the correct words.
"Yes monsieur?" I asked, waiting.
"You think your friend can do this?"
I laughed. "Monsieur, there is no doubt in my mind. She will be wonderful. Now, if you will excuse me?" I edged away.
"Of course."
I walked off. In my own dressing room, all the ballet girls were rushing about dressing, doing hair, makeup, and reviewing steps. I went over to my corner and retrieved my tutu. After slipping on the frothy white gown and pulling back my hair, I surveyed myself critically in the mirror. To myself, I did not look the part of a ballerina. I lacked the charisma and assurance I should have. Or rather, whatever presence and confidence I contained was squelched, mainly by the Ballerina Prima. She had a way of doing that to me, to all of us. But tonight, I resolved, would be different. Tonight I would shine in my solo. I vowed that to myself and repeated it all through warm ups.
Five minutes until the performance, I again announced the oath to myself over and over. Suddenly I saw Christine enter, in her first garish costume. I waved and mouthed, "Good luck." She nervously smiled back, but seemed preoccupied. I sat on an old truck to await my entrance.
Suddenly the lights went off and the curtains opened. The music came on and Christine's voice came floating through the air. I gasped. She was incredible! I had never heard her, or anyone for that matter, sing like that. All around me, murmurs of amazement and approval echoed. I sat and listened to her until I had to go on. I almost missed my cue, but quickly I ran onstage and began to dance. The next thing I knew, I was backstage again, listening in the wings with all the other ballet girls. Christine was on her last aria and was magnificent.
"We never said our love was evergreen, or as unchanging as the sea. But please promise me that sometimes you will think of me!" Christine's crystal voice resounded through the opera. As she ended the last note, people stood and clapped vigorously. I myself clapped my hands until they were chafed. Blushing with accomplishment, Christine took bow after bow, a large fragrant bouquet in her arms. At last, the curtain dropped for the final time, and Christine made her way backstage. Everyone crowded about her, exclaiming over her. Christine took out single roses and handed them to the ballet girls. When she came over to me, she hugged me tightly.
"Christine, you were amazing!" I told her.
Christine smiled. "Thank you, Meg. This is all your fault, you know," She added wryly. "If you hadn't pushed me into singing earlier this never would have happened." We laughed.
"Ahem." A gravely voice behind us called our attention. It was Monsieur Reyer. "You did. satisfactory, mademoiselle," he stiffly announced. Then he quietly made his way into the shadows. Christine and I glanced at each other again and fought not to laugh.
A hand was put on Christine's shoulder as Mme. Giry kindly said, "You did well tonight, child." Christine shyly smiled and walked towards her dressing room. Suddenly the ballet mistress' tone changed and she announced sharply, "But you dancers! A disgrace! I have never seen such dancing in my entire life and hope to never again. We will rehearse." She banged her cane with emphasis. "Now."
A/N Are you guys wondering where I am going with all this? It might sound rather familiar, just a book version of the musical. In a way it is, but I haven't gotten to the good part yet.