Chapter 1
The Job Hunt
Two figures sat in silence, oblivious to the noises around them in the busy café, studying the classified ads in the local paper intently. The miniscule print used for the ads began to blur together before the girls' eyes as each small block of text began to look the same.
"Find anything good?" Meg Giry, a young, athletic blonde, questioned her companion.
"No." Christine Daae, a brunette who looked to be about Meg's age, replied. "Just a bunch of construction work way out of town. We're never going to find jobs at this rate."
"Well, keep looking." Meg encouraged, as a hassled waitress passed them by. "Even working for my mom would be better than nothing."
"Except I can't dance." Christine pointed out. "Remember when I tried out for the dance team freshman year?"
Meg winced at the memory; Christine landing flat on her ass as she tried the complicated moves Meg accomplished with fluidity. "Isn't the library hiring?" She encouraged. Christine was the biggest reader she knew. It was rare to see her without some kind of book in tow.
"Yeah, but Elisa Jammes works there, and she told me the pay was crap."
"Compared to what?" Meg wondered, barely hiding her disgust for Elisa Jammes. It was well known that Meg hated her back in high school. And if Elisa's attempt at pushing Meg into the swimming pool fully clothed at their all-night party was any indication, the feeling was mutual on the other side.
"Compared to McDonalds or that new Chinese food place." Christine said flatly. She stretched and drained her water glass, nearly choking on a piece of ice. "Well, I say that this job hunt's a bust for today."
"So we live jobless, only to hunt another day?"
"Precisely!" Christine said, throwing money onto the table for her toast. "Besides, I have to get back to my dad. He's not doing too well right now."
"Ah." Meg chipped in her part of the bill. "So, one year in a few weeks." She shook her head, closing her eyes. "I still can't imagine how you do it. You lost your mom and your dad settled into that deep depression, especially after he found out he was paralyzed."
"I don't know." Christine shrugged. "Strength of character, perhaps?" The car accident that tore her family apart was something she didn't want to talk about, especially so close to the day it happened. "Let's go. Maybe we'll see something on the walk home." Humming quietly to herself as Meg paid the bill, she saw paper covering the windows of one of the old shops in town.
"That was a bit more than I expected." Meg said, disgusted with the price of the bill and the lack of green bills in her wallet.
"Meg, look." Christine pointed out the front windows, showing the covered display windows.
"Hmm, 'coming soon, Music of the Night'." Meg read, squinting at the black marks on the deep crimson paper. "We should totally go over and ask when interviews are!"
'I guess that solves our little unemployment dilemma.' Christine thought wryly as Meg dragged her across the street.
"HELLOOOO! IS ANYBODY HOME?" Meg cried, pounding furiously on the old, ebony door, determined to get an interview in. There was a loud crash, followed by a string of muffled cursing, before the doorknob began to rattle. "I think I made a mistake." Meg muttered, suddenly rethinking her decision. "Uh, Chrissy, I just remembered that my mom wants me down at the studio in, like, five minutes. Bye!"
The door opened, and an ominous looking man with a white porcelain mask covering the right side of his face peered out, ready to yell at whoever disturbed him.
"Uhh, hi!" Christine said meekly. "I was just wondering, if it's not too much to ask, when the interviews for this place are."
If there was one thing the man was expecting, it wasn't that. He sputtered for a second or two, trying to calm himself down. "Interviews are from eleven in the morning until four-thirty in the afternoon on June 15th." He said.
Christine couldn't help but inwardly squeal at the sound of his voice, it was like dark, silky velvet; deceptively smooth with a bit of a rough edge that only velvet could attain. "T-thank you." She stammered.
"Is that all?" He asked, confused with the timid young girl. She couldn't possibly have nearly pounded his door in, causing him to drop a very fragile, very heavy, and very expensive tuba.
"Yes, sir." She said, turning to leave. "And I'm sorry if my friend disturbed you. She sometimes forgets to think."
"I gathered as much." He smirked. "I shall see you on Friday."
"Okay." She said, watching him go back inside, disappointment rising up inside her. The unmasked side of his face was rather nice looking. But before her mind could stray on the masked man any longer, her watch beeped, reminding her that she needed to be at home. Cursing, Christine ran down the street, back to her house.
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