Everything and Nothing
Notes- Thanks to LenisVox, ShapeintheShadows, Mominator, Masqueraders, Aliyu, Queen Sarah, Darkness carrier, AOM, anonymous, Chamomile Lady, Erin Sovenya, Tango1, ReganX, Razzy, MercuryKitten, Rikku Ree, and Kute Anime Kitty for your reviews. I'm glad so many of you are enjoying this story. To Queen Sarah: the tune Erik sings to Christine when he reveals himself is not a PotO tune at all. Apologies for not mentioning it earlier, but it happens to be a tune from the musical Jane Eyre. The song is called "Brave Enough For Love"- the last song on the soundtrack. Though the ending of it sort of deviates from that tune as well.
Chapter Eight: An Unpleasant Occurrence
"That's not how you play!" Meg protested, rubbing her nose.
"It is, too," Christine retorted, sitting up and crossing her arms over her chest with a pout.
"You can't go back after you say you'll do something. That's breaking a promise!"
"I'm not going to kiss Buquet," Christine said stubbornly. "He's ugly, and he scares me."
"But you promised!" Meg insisted.
"I did not."
"You did too. Saying you'll do a dare is a promise."
"Is not."
"Is too."
"I'm not doing it."
"I can make you," Meg threatened.
"Can not."
"Can too!"
"Can – EEEEK!"
I grinned wryly as Meg launched a tickle attack against my little pupil, sending the two of them to the floor with a thud. The two were playing alone for once, in Box Seven while Madame Giry took care of cleaning out Box Five. The rest of the girls were elsewhere- most likely in the children's dormitory, gossiping or telling stories.
"Meg- eek!- stoooop!"
"Not until you do your dare!" Meg declared, then squealed in surprise as Christine launched her counterattack.
I shook my head and went back to a sketch I'd been working on for the last few minutes. It was simple, childlike work, really, but I suppose that made sense- the subject being a child herself.
"Meeeg!"
The two continued to tussle about, knocking over a chair without noticing- thankfully it didn't land on them- and messing up the carpeting. I continued to watch, quickly sketching down my subject's features.
I really had to thank little Giry for deciding to 'attack', however torturous it was to my pupil. In the past two months since I'd first taken notice of Christine, I had never really heard her laugh or seen her smile like this. It was a wondrous gift to watch, compared to her usual somber, shy attitude.
"Eeek- OW!" both cried, suddenly. And, as I looked up to see what had happened, each tore away from the other almost violently, their laughter cut short.
"You pinched me!" Christine accused, rubbing her arm gingerly.
"You pulled my hair!" Meg retorted tearfully, both hands on her head as though that would protect her.
"I did not! That hurt, Meg!"
"I didn't touch your stupid arm. Pulling my hair hurt more than pinching would anyway."
I set down my quill and my paper, feeling a pang of alarm when the two started to glare at each other. All of the playfulness that had filled the Box a minute ago was gone, replaced with hurt feelings galore.
"Say you're sorry," Christine said.
"No."
"Say you're sorry," Christine repeated, an edge coming into her voice.
"No. You say you're sorry. That hurt," Meg said, sniffling a little. Her eyes were getting red, though I couldn't see any tears forming.
"You're mean!"
"You're meaner!"
"Say you're sorry!"
"I didn't touch you! I already said I didn't, stupid."
"Don't call me stupid!"
It was definitely time to call someone in. I swept to my feet and hurried from behind a mirror set in the wall towards Box Five, quickening my steps when I heard Meg cry out in pain.
"Madame Giry," I hissed as I reached my pillar.
The woman somehow didn't seem to sense my need for immediate action. "Monsieur?" she said quietly, calmly to the air about her. She had been in the middle of wiping the dust from one of the seats, and hadn't bothered to stop when she heard me.
"Your charges require your immediate supervision. I suggest you hurry before they injure each other."
She set down her rag on the chair, turning towards the door, where I had thrown my voice. "Injure?" she demanded.
"Yes, injure! I suggest haste, woman!"
She had begun to hurry towards Box Seven until I finished speaking. Then she stopped and glared at the air about her. "It does not matter how much influence you have over the Opera Populaire, Monsieur Phantom," she said coolly. "You will still not address me so rudely."
"Yes, yes, will you hurry along?" I said impatiently. "Your charges are in the middle of a fight as we speak, and damned if I know how you can't hear them."
Madame Giry shot the door another venomous look, but complied, hastily heading towards Box Seven. As I followed along in the passages behind the walls, I realized precisely why Madame Giry hadn't heard anything.
There was an almost eerie silence emanating from said box.
This did not bode well.
I slipped behind one of the many one-sided mirrors that I had installed years ago in time to see Madame Giry enter the Box. Neither girl seemed to notice; little Giry had acquired a large, red handprint on her left cheek, and my pupil appeared to have gained a scratch on the arm that had been pinched a moment ago. Their eyes were shimmering with unshed tears, but by the way Christine was scrunching up her face, I had a feeling that that would change very soon.
"I… I… I hate you!" Christine cried. "I don't want to be your friend anymore!"
"Good!" Meg retorted angrily. "I don't want you to be my friend!"
"Meg Giry! Christine Daae!" Madame Giry said sharply. Both girls jumped, having only just noticed her there. "I will not hear you speaking so to each other again! To think that I believed you two could behave while on your own." She waved a hand disgustedly at the chair that had been knocked over and the carpet. "You will straighten up in here, and then you will both head to the dormitory. I will deal with you both later, when I haven't work to do. Is that clear?"
It was astounding how well a mother's voice could make the girls seem to shrink in on themselves. By the end of Madame Giry's speech, it seemed as though Christine and Meg had become no taller than perhaps three inches, while Madame Giry towered over them even more than usual.
With mumbles of, "Yes, mother" and "Yes, Madame," the two girls went to fix up the Box under her watch. Both were careful not to go near the other, however, and every time their eyes met, there was nothing but hurt and anger shown.
And when the time came for them to head down to the dormitory, neither of them spoke to the other during the entire journey.
"Oh, Angel, I hate her! She's so mean!" Christine cried.
I sighed and rubbed my temples, wondering why I'd been foolish enough to ask why Christine couldn't focus on her lessons today. If I'd asked her two months ago, she most likely would not have answered me. But now, now that I'd coached her and advised her, she was willing to tell me things like this.
Which would have been touching if she had let the matter drop thirty minutes ago.
"My dear, you can't mean that. She's been your friend since you came here to the Opera Populaire," I pointed out.
"No she hasn't. She made fun of you, Angel, and she still doesn't believe you exist. She always makes me be the bad people in our games, and I never get to be the princess. And she smells funny when she eats garlic."
I blinked at that. "All people do, my dear. That is the nature of garlic."
"Well, she smells funnier than anyone else!" she said. "I hate her! I hate her!"
All of this… over one little pinch or hair pull? It was hard for me to believe. I sighed, and lowered my hands from my head, wincing at its throbbing.
"I wish I'd never met her! I wish she didn't exist! I want her to go away and not come back!" Christine said, glaring at the candles before her.
I froze, hardly believing my ears. It was not like Christine to say such a harsh thing; she must have been in a bad mood earlier this morning. But other than that, an idea to fix this whole fiasco was forming in my mind. Meg had appeared a little under the weather lately…
"You truly wish that?" I asked softly.
"Yes," Christine said.
"Very well, my dear. Why don't you get to bed. It's late for little ones to be up."
She blinked, puzzled. Then she stood. "Angel, your voice sounds weird."
"Nonsense, Christine. Get some rest. All will be better in the morning, I can promise you that."
She frowned a little, but obeyed. With a little curtsy towards the candles in the chapel, she was on her way to sleep.
It was time to set things in motion, I decided. The sooner, the better…