A/N: It's been forever since an update, I know. Getting started in High School was just hectic. But now that I actually go to the school I'm portraying Christine and her posse as going to, I can give you better descriptions. Every day in dance when we're supposed to be stretching and waiting for the teacher, I lie on the floor of the stage and look up at the catwalks. I swear to you that there's a Punjab hanging from one. Or maybe it's just the acid again.

I heard it through the grapevine (from Random- My Sport of Choice) formerly Kit Anika-Wildmage, formerly Kitsune Dragon Girl, formerly Kitsune Fire Dragon, and from other sources that review responses aren't allowed. This is sad. Without review responses I wouldn't have figured out many things about my reviewers, like that Silvermasque had a huge thing for George Cooper, same as I did :hugs George:. Even so, I have to give a shout-out to Emmily for your review of THE Script. You and Yuka settled your differences!

Adi, if you mind me using the DBCA in this, tell me and I'll take it out.

Carol, I'm sorry if I paint you in a bad light, I'm not meaning to, you are very sweet and awesome, but the other characters are more biased.

Trevor, I'll try to put your cameo in this chappy. I can't promise, as I don't know anything about the plot.

Onward we go!

Disclaimer: I'm not even talking to you people any more if you insist I do this.

♫ ♫ ♫

Christine was walking down a long, white hallway. She could see a tall, thin black-clothed figure at the end. For some reason, he was singing.

"Say you'll share with me,

One love, one lifetime.

Lead me, save me from my solitude.

Share each day with me, each night each morning."

Christine was drawing closer. The figure was still distant, but she could tell that he had a white mask on the right side of his face.

"Anywhere you go, let me go too,

Christine, that's all I ask of-"

Christine was close enough now to reach out and touch him. She was about to, when a gut wrenching noise shattered the peaceful calm of the hallway.

♫ ♫ ♫

Christine was jerked awake at the ungodly hour of 5:30 A.M. when her alarm clock clicked on and started buzzing. She quickly switched it to the radio setting and let 102.1 WDRM fill the room. Christine knew the futility of trying to sleep in, so she struggled out of bed and into her bathroom, humming along with the singer on the radio, knowing she'd have the song stuck in her head for the rest of the day.

I got blamed at your wedding reception,

For your best man's embarrassing speech.

And also for those naked pictures of you at the beach.

I've influenced Kings and world leaders,

I helped Hemingway write like he did.

And I'll bet you a drink or two, that I can make you put that lampshade on your head.

'Cause since the day I left Milwaukee,

Lynchburg and Bordeaux, France,

I been making a fool out of folks just like you,

An' helping white people dance.

I am medicine and I am poison,

I can help you up or make you fall.

You had some of the best times you'll never remember with me:

Alcohol.

After she had showered and brushed her teeth and hair—an exacting procedure requiring much patience and a high tolerance for pain—she stepped back into her bedroom and rummaged through her drawers for something to wear. Realizing she couldn't care less what she put on, she went for the infallible strategy of picking what was on the top of the drawer. Christine slipped on a black shirt that had 'DBCA' on the front in fancy script and 'Adriana is our Queen' on the back in the same font (A/N: for true Huntsvilleites, the font I'm imagining is the one on the Allegro Academy of Dance sign. The studio's on Whitesburg, real near to Blacklight Golf if you don't know where Allegro is), and a pair of black velvet pants (A/N: Yes, Mere-K, black velvet pants). She looked at herself in the mirror, knowing she'd win the strange look contest for today. I mean seriously, she thought, these people should just read the phanphic I tell them will explain everything instead of badgering me all day.

Glancing at her clock, she saw that it was only 6:15, and that she had time for a more nutritious breakfast than a Pop Tart™. As she padded out to the kitchen in her toe socks (black with glow-in-the-dark smiley faces on them), she realized that she was the only one moving in the house. This wasn't unusual. Deanne wasn't up yet, and probably wouldn't be for a while. She's gonna get a real shock when she has to be at school at 8:00 for Kindergarten next year, Christine thought bitterly. Her father, a workaholic, was probably already at the office. Her older sister Danyelle would be over right about the time she was leaving to go to school, as Danyelle watched Deanne all day. She never should have dropped out of college, Christine thought. And over a guy. How stupid. I'm sure everyone on that campus had at least one ex that went to UAH too, and none of them dropped out. Christine opened the freezer and pulled out a Lean Pockets Breakfast Pocket™. You're right, Christine, she told herself, this is much more nutritious than a Pop Tart™. Well if you're going to stand around and think bitter thoughts about your family for half an hour, you can't really expect to have a gourmet breakfast.

At precisely 7:05 and 42 seconds, Christine grabbed her bag and binder and walked out the front door. Exactly 12 seconds later, Meg's car, a Hummer H2—her mom wanted her to be safe on the road—pulled up. It was like this every morning. Christine and Meg had even synchronized their clocks and watches with the Weather Channel, the Almighty God of Clocks in Huntsville, Alabama. (A/N: If I mess up the Hummer, I'm sorry, I've never even seen the inside of one, I'm modeling mostly after a Honda Pilot on steroids)

"Hello, Cleveland! Good morning, Meg Giry!" Christine said far louder and more optimistically than she would have any other day, just to annoy her friend.

Meg glared grumpily at Christine, saying "We're in Huntsville, not Cleveland, and there's nothing good about this morning." She winced at every motion she had to make. (A/N: You think Meg's a wimp, you try taking ballet and/or pointe.)

"Well aren't you Miss Sunshine this morning!" Christine replied, fiddling with the radio. Normally it was a constant war: Meg wanted hip hop or rap, and Christine wanted country. Christine took advantage of Meg being almost too sore to even think to change it to WDRM. One of her favorite Montgomery Gentry songs boomed through the car, inspiring the errant thought, Troy is so hot. Where did that come from? Christine wondered a moment later.

This ain't no give it time, I'm hurtin' but maybe we can work it out, uh uh uh


Won't be no champagne, red rose, romance, second chance, uh uh uh


This is gone (gone) gone (gone) gone (gone) gone

Gone like a freight-train, gone like yesterday


Gone like a soldier in the Civil War, bang bang


Gone like a '59 Cadillac


Like all the good things that ain't never coming back


She's gone (gone) gone (gone) gone (gone) gone


She's gone


She's gone (gone) gone (gone) gone (gone) gone, she's gone

Gone like a freight-train, gone like yesterday


Gone like a soldier in the Civil War, bang bang


Gone like a '59 Cadillac


Like all the good things that ain't never coming back


She's gone (gone) she's gone (gone) she's gone (gone) she's gone


She's gone

Gone like a freight-train, gone like yesterday


Gone like a soldier in the Civil War, bang bang


Gone like a '59 Cadillac


Like all the good things


Well, she's gone

Long gone, done me wrong


Never comin' back, my baby's gone


Lonely at home, sittin' all alone


She's packed her bags and now she's gone


Never comin' back, she's gone


No no never, no no never, no never comin' back.

Meg came to herself enough to groan, "You know I hate that twangy stuff! You're just taking advantage of me being near-comatose."

"You know it," Christine grinned.

♫ ♫ ♫

Christine was already sitting with her lunch, having opted for the sandwich in the face of overwhelming lines when Meg came up clutching a cheeseburger and looking as if she was about to faint. Christine felt her own eyes grow wide. Meg always got salads. Neither her mother nor her own knowledge would let her consume so much fat and cholesterol (A/N: Meg's not anorexic, she's simply eating right). "What happened, Meg?" Christine asked shakily.

"Chris, mom got fired."

"What!" Christine yelped loudly, causing several of the other seniors to unfasten their eyes from Family Guy to stare at her, including Raoul. "You're joking," she continued more softly.

"No, I'm not. Remember how I said she was acting kind of funny this morning after she checked her email? I walked in and stretched and everything just like normal, but then this other woman came in and told us that she was our new teacher and that mom wasn't working at Grissom anymore!"

♫ ♫ ♫

(Flashback)

Meg sat in straddle with her stomach flat on the floor, her arms stretched out to the sides, and her eyes closed daydreaming. When she heard the auditorium door open, she abruptly sat up, and with her eyes still closed, she loosened up some more of the muscles that had become cramped during the night and the first three classes of the day. She wished she had eaten a banana that morning, as she knew from her mother's countless repetitions that potassium helped with muscle cramps. Any second now she would her the beat of her mother's cane on the stage and the call that heralded the arrival of the beginning of class, "Girls! Stand up and stagger yourselves so we may exercise!" Instead there was no cane, only a soft step, and a different voice said, "Hello, I am going to be your new dance teacher."

Meg's eyes snapped open and she gasped loudly. She wasn't the only one either.

The new woman was taller than Mme. Giry and younger looking, with long straight light brown hair. She continued, "My name is Carol, and you may call me by my first name only. I will be your new teacher. Mme. Giry doesn't teach here at Grissom any more."

The class simply stared at her, wondering if it was all a practical joke and Mme. Giry was going to come out from backstage chuckling dryly and start class.

At the girls' stares, Carol took a more authoritive tone of voice and said, "Come on, girls, get up. We're wasting class time."

(End Flashback)

♫ ♫ ♫

"So that's what happened," Meg concluded after telling Christine what happened in class.

The rest of the day seemed to fly by for them: math and English were both in the morning. Even though the girls didn't have any classes together, they still made arrangements to meet up after school and walk down to see how Mme. Giry was doing. They both agreed that they could use the exercise after being cooped up all day, even though it was kind of redundant that they would walk down to the studio, walk back to get the car, and then drive home, and just over an hour later Meg would drive back to the studio.

♫ ♫ ♫

A/N: Brief Authoress' Note. I just thought of something hilarious. This is only funny for native Huntsvilleites. The rest of you can just skip on down. OK, what about this. Y'all know Ann's was the first dance studio in the phonebook before Carol opened Allegro, yes? Well you do know. Well, what if Mme. Giry had started Ann's, (since she's Antoinette), then when she was topped by Allegro, changed the name to Adagio or something. It was a lot funnier in my head.

♫ ♫ ♫

Christine stood outside the front door listening to more of 'that twangy stuff' on her iPOD™ while she waited for Meg.

Staring at you taking off your makeup

Wondering why you even put it on

I know you think you do, but baby, you don't need it

Wish that you could see what I see when it's gone

I see a dust trail following an old red Nova

Baby blue eyes and your head on my shoulder

Wait, baby don't move, right there it is

A T-shirt hanging off a dogwood branch

That river was cold but we gave love a chance-

"There you are!" Meg's cry startled Christine out of her Rascal Flatts-induced reverie. "I've been looking all over the school! You said we'd meet at your locker!"

"Whatever," Christine shrugged, unwilling to get into an argument over this. "You're here now, let's get going."

The two friends set out walking, eliciting strange looks from other students. Everyone knew that the Hummer was Meg's and Christine almost always carpooled with her. At one point, the sidewalk got so narrow that two people couldn't walk side by side on it, so Christine walked in front, looking over her shoulder to listen to Meg rant about some guy she thought was hot.

(A/N: Trevor, I'm only imagining what you'd be like as a senior. Please don't kill me! Also, I'm basing Christine's Nerd Camp antics on my own experiences, 'cause I'm just too lazy to think up original ones.)

All of a sudden, Christine slammed into a guy going the opposite direction who clearly hadn't been paying attention either. He was the second-geekiest person at Huntsville High. No one was sure who the geekiest was, but many were of the firm belief that it was this guy's imaginary friend.

"Oh, fish," they both said.

"Did you just say 'fish'?" the guy asked.

"Yes, if it's any of your concern," Christine replied coolly.

"Do you have any idea what 'fish' means?" he asked.

"Of course, but I wouldn't expect you to," Christine said snidely. "Not unless you were…" suddenly a look of shock appeared on her face. "Oh my God! You're Trevor!"

"Guilty as charged," Trevor replied. "And you are…?"

"Don't you remember me? From Nerd Camp?"

"It's not a camp, it's a program," he said, getting a laugh from Christine and a strange look from Meg. Trevor squinted at Christine. "You were that weird girl! Who broke the CD players! And was obsessed with Phantom of the Opera!"

She was obsessed four years agoMeg asked herself.

"That's me. And you were the weird guy who was obsessed with parental advisory Christian bands."

"But something's different about you."

"My hair's not green, maybe," she offered sarcastically. "And I hope I look different than I did at 14."

Oh, that was that summer, Meg thought. I don't remember why she dyed her hair in the first place. Something about 'Trooper spirit,' she said.

"Oh, that. Yeah, what was up with that?" he asked.

"I decided to dye my hair green. Is that a problem?" Christine asked, not intending it as a question.

Meg tapped Christine on the shoulder. "You're standing here, in broad daylight, talking to the second-geekiest guy at Huntsville High like it's nothing!" she whispered fiercely. "Don't you dare mar my reputation!"

"So, Christine," Trevor said, looking like he was about to laugh, "I heard some breaking news earlier…"

"Which was?" Christine inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"Erik got eaten by a doggy!" (A/N: For an explanation, check out my Authoress' Note on Kathleen chappy 3 and the manga Hellsing, issue 2, the Merry Manga at the end.)

"Why…you…little…Belgium!" (A/N: For those of you who haven't read Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and its sequels, Belgium is an epithet that should only be used in Serious Screenplays.)

"Language, Christine," Trevor scolded mockingly.

Do those two have some kind of secret code going? Meg wondered.

"Oh, Belgium you," she said, and turned on her heel and left.

"So…" Trevor said.

"I'm Meg. Meg Giry," Meg introduced herself. "And I've got to go catch up to Christine." She, too, left.

Trevor blinked. What just happened? he wondered

♫ ♫ ♫

After Christine and Meg had ascertained that Mme. Giry was perfectly fine, it was insisted that Meg had to work on her competition pieces, so she stayed behind. Meg gave her keys to Christine, and Christine herself promised to bring the Hummer back sometime before midnight.

Christine strolled back to Grissom, feeling sorry for Meg, who was doubtless already exhausted.

Back in Grissom, she noticed that one of the auditorium doors hadn't been locked, so she went in and sat up on the stage again. Suddenly she had the sudden desire to sing something. She already knew the song. There was an awesome Stargate music video made to it. Even though she'd probably butcher the high notes, the song was so pretty.

Where have all the good men gone


And where are all the gods?


Where's the street-wise Hercules


To fight the rising odds?


Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?


Late at night toss and turn and dream of what I need

I need a hero


I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night


He's gotta be strong


And he's gotta be fast


And he's gotta be fresh from the fight


I need a hero


I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light


He's gotta be sure


And it's gotta be soon


And he's gotta be larger than life

Somewhere after midnight


In my wildest fantasy


Somewhere just beyond my reach


There's someone reaching back for me


Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat


It's gonna take a superman to sweep me off my feet

I need a hero


I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night


He's gotta be strong


And he's gotta be fast


And he's gotta be fresh from the fight


I need a hero


I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light


He's gotta be sure


And it's gotta be soon


And he's gotta be larger than life


Up where the mountains meet the heavens above


Out where the lightning splits the sea


I would swear that there's someone somewhere


Watching me

Through the wind and the chill and the rain


And the storm and the flood


I can feel his approach


Like the fire in my blood

I need a hero


I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night


He's gotta be strong


And he's gotta be fast


And he's gotta be fresh from the fight


I need a hero


I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light


He's gotta be sure


And it's gotta be soon


And he's gotta be larger than life.

Christine's heart felt considerably lighter after the song ended. Right then, even Dr. Mueller couldn't frighten her.

She jumped down from the stage and skipped out of the auditorium.

She was nearly to the door when she tripped and fell into a clump of shadows. Unlike other clumps of shadows, though, this one felt oddly solid and went 'oof' when she fell into it.

♫ ♫ ♫

A/N: Hehe, evil cliffie. The songs were Alcohol by Brad Paisley, Gone by Montgomery Gentry, Fast Cars and Freedom by Rascal Flatts, and Holding Out For a Hero by Frou Frou.