The Opera Populaire buzzed with the voices of teenagers as they hastened to their classes. Everywhere boys and girls alike were making the same arduous attempts to make it to their classes, through the historic halls, without either dropping their backpacks, heavily laden with books and other various supplies, to navigating their way through the throng of students and successfully searching out their friends. It was merely another day at 'Fantome Populaire: School of the Preforming Arts'. Just-
"Another uneventful day in the life of Adriane Charday." I sighed in exasperation as my violin case slipped form my grasp and was nearly trampled by a group of indolent students who were blithefully apathetic with their wonderfully dull lives. I stooped down without hesitation, groping blindly for my instrument, but I was without luck and a moment later I found myself face down on the floor. I didn't expect to be helped up. All the students here were the same. To concerned in their own pointless affairs to care. Sometimes I doubted wether or not they really were alive.
Therefor I was surprised when I found myself being hefted to my feet. "You really ought to be more careful there, Adriane. I don't know what you would do without me." I pivoted around in order to get a better look at my rescuer. It was none other than my best friend Rachelle. She stood there with her hands on her hips, blue eyes coruscating in good humor as her dark brown hair, identical to my own hair color , framed her face. She was tall with an hourglass figure, only slightly taller than myself. There was a smirk on her lips as she shook her head perfunctorily.
"Or me." Another voice chimed forth as the school bell rang throughout the halls and students filed into overly lit classrooms. This time the voice belonged to Chelsea: another good friend of mine, who had cinched in her hand my violin case.
"I would probably not be tardy for every other class." I reciprocated grimly, motioning for the two to follow me as I set off at an impetuous pace down the wide and commodious hall towards my eighth and final period class. By this point all other students had successfully arrived at their designated classes, and we were the only ones lingering here. It was fortunate for us that my next class was so close, for at the moment we walked inside the second bell rang aloud. "Oh, beat on a technicality!" Mrs. Hewlett, our history teacher, snapped her fingers, shaking her head in what was meant to be mock remorse. There was scattered laughter throughout the classroom as we took our assigned seats in the front, averting our attention to Mademoiselle Hewlett, as she preferred to be called.
Oh, how I hated Thursdays! The day before we would be released to do as we pleased around the old opera house, wether it be communing in our dorm rooms or traversing through the lower levels of the school where it remained from the year of 1870, with items from the 'Phantom' incident. I longed only for the moment school on Friday would draw to a close, but Mademoiselle Hewlett had a way of forcing me to forget about such issues and focus on the task at hand, for I enjoyed hearing her veer off of subject and start lecturing us about what cloths not to wear in the spring time, or telling us the latest gossip of some pop star over in Mexico.
"Halloween is coming up." she said in a sing song voice, reclining on the edge of her desk as she parted her brown bands away from her hazel eyes. "And you all know what that means. Masquerade, paper faces on parade, masquerade, hide your face so the world can never find you!" I couldn't help but chuckle as she broke into song. It seemed she was always mocking the past of Fantome Populaire by singing. It was something I rather enjoyed: almost as if the class was being rewarded for high test scores. "The masquerade ball has been a tradition here for over a century, dating back to the early days of the Opera Populaire." my stomach twisted unpleasantly as the familliar sceptic sensation coursed through my body. "Back when La Carlotta was a Prima Donna, and Messier Firman and Andre were the managers. You can look it up in the library if you like, we have documents proving they actually did work here." I felt Mme Hewlett's gaze swivel around to meet my own green one, smile playing across her lips. "Back in the days of the Phantom of the Opera."
Her words met a hushed silence. Dramatic Effect such as this vexed me when it came to this particular story. I chose to make my annoyance clear by fiddling with my pencil and allowing my eyes to wander. The room, as all the other classrooms, was rather large. A window peered out onto the streets of Paris below, sending light cascading into the room. Desks were neatly aligned in collums facing Mrs. Hewlett's desk. Several book shelves, stacked with literature on the Opera house, lined the back wall, along with a grand piano which was kept to keep the theme most of all.
"Fantome Populaire was once known as The Opera Populair, way back in the late 1800's. Even back then they knew that the phantom haunted the Opera House. It was not until the incident with Christine Daae that the cast and workers really-"
"Mademoiselle, I beg your condolences, but we are aware of the story, and I can safely tell you that there is no use attempting to make us believe in the Phantom of the Opera. It is just a myth made when the Opera Populaire was converted into a school, meant to daunt us. There is absolutely no truth behind it." I drawled, leaning forwards in my seat, fingers entwining as I met Hewlett's gaze steadily. "Can't we just learn about the Salem Witch Tri-"
"My turn to interupt." I was cut off precipitously. "I will not waist my time teaching you about the Salem Witch trials, Miss Charday, you can already answer every question I could throw out with more efficiency than even I could. The Phantom did in fact exist. This is a history class, this story is historic, therefor I am teaching a lesson now." at this point I would have been worried if it were any other teacher, but I was aware of Mademoiselle Hewlett's good temperament and kind disposition. "If you interupt me again I might... make you recite the very song that Christine sang at opening galla night when Andre and Firman arived. You remember of course, the Phantom made sure to get La Carlotta out of the way."
I couldn't help but bust into mad laughter, hunching over in my seat as a tear of humor rolled down my unnaturally pale cheek. "Yes, the Phantom did that. I remember now. But didn't his pet flying pig help out to?"
"Ah, a solo from Adriane then!" Oops.
A sense of mad fear overcame me as I felt the eyes of my peers boring into me like daggers. "No!" I gasped. "I can't sing, you can't possibly-" but my cries were in vain, for Mademoiselle Hewlett had already made her way across the classroom, her fingers moving over the keys of the piano lissomly. An all to familiar tune: we sang Think of Me in chorus class every year during the musical in which we retold the story of the Opera house. The story so many people believed to be true.
I was already known around the school for the pranks that I pulled. I had earned many enemies, while gaining many supporters still yet. Regardless of where they stood, they would love to see me fail...
It was to late. I felt myself respire deeply before opening my mouth and singing:
"Think of me
Think of me fondly
When we've said good-bye.
Remember me
Once in a while
Please Promise me you'll try"
They were gawking at me. I must be horrible! Never the less, pride (or fear) compelled me to finish my song rather than run from the classroom. Before I knew it, the song was concluded, and I met thunderous applause, much to my bewilderment. "That was absolutely amazing!" Mademoiselle Hewlett looked up from the Piano, grinning broadly. "Adriane, you're in chorus girl choir right? You need to be moved up to Prima Donna chorus! I shall talk to Mrs. Giry if you would like."
Since Fantome Populaire was a preforming arts school, we were forced to take three classes of five: drama, chorus, orchestra or band, or art. I was currently in drama, chorus, and orchestra. Our chorus classes were devided into Chorus girl (or boy for boys choir), Full cast, and Prima Donna. The names are self explanatory. In their desperate attempt to maintain the Opera Populaire's theme, they had labeled the classes with such humiliating names...
I shook my head with a half hearted smile. I could not disembark from Chorus girl's class. Rachelle and Chelsea might kill me if I forsook them. "No... you can just continue with your story and do not mind if I start laughing hystericly."
"The Phantom does exist-"
"Mademoiselle, if he ever did exist, which I doubt, he would be dead. Its been over a century now, he would be dead, and you people talk about him as though he is still alive." I said, waving a hand around airily, conscientious not to cross the border and perhaps be forced to sing again.
Mademoiselle Hewlett gave me a fleeting glance as the bell marked the end of class. There was an almost sort of horror in her eyes, as if something terrible had just dawned on her. "Halloween is in nine days, Miss Charday. You would be surprised what is real and what it make-believe."
With her ominous words hanging over me, I made sure to be eschew of Mrs. Hewlett upon decamping from the classroom and heading off in the direction of the dorms with Adriane at my side.
Our dorm room had not been obtained easily. It was Christine Daae's old dressing room, before she and her fiancé made up the whole Phantom of the Opera lie and hit the road. Why they did it, I never knew. All I knew was that Christine had, at one point, been a Prima Donna when La Carlotta had refused to go on stage. As soon as I heard of Fantome Populaire, back when I was a young girl, I knew that I must have this dorm.
Less than a quarter of the students who had the pleasure of attending our school were from France at all. People from both England and the America's also were able take classes here as well. It was highly expensive, unless of course you got in on a scholarship, as I had. Drama had always been my passion, and further extending my knowledge had been a dream of mine for the longest time.
And then I got the letter that said I had been accepted into the very dorm I had applied for I had been thrilled. It was like a dream come true, and the only thing that would make it more perfect was if there weren't so many superstitious teachers and students.
"Come on Ade, you solemnly swear you don't believe in the Phantom?" Rachelle quarried as she ensconced herself on her bed, which was adjacent to my own. The quilts were both silk and red, as were the pillows. An ornate, opulent dresser that was rumored to have once belonged to Miss Daae herself was located about four yards away from the foot of the bed. Against one wall was a mirror that had been there since 1870. I was rather fond of it. Its frame was delicately carved out, and It had a certain aura about it... perhaps Rachelle thought I was self concieted, for I often spent time staring at it. A diminutive chandelier, lighted by electricity was suspended from the ceiling: yet another reminder of the school's past.
"Rach, you know I don't. I can't believe they turned you against me... you, a believer of the Phantom! Why, its almost laughable!" I scoffed, scowling at the floor as I pulled my black and white converse from my feet and went over to the dresser, pulling open the top drawer and extracting my pajamas, which had been provided by the school: a corset of white, with a flowing white skirt. It seemed a bit risque to me, but I complained sporadically. I wrinkled my nose. "After all this talk of the Phantom, I would rather wear something a bit more normal." I said, tossing the corset and skirt aside and pulling out a spaghetti strapped pajama top and pajama pants that were far to long for me. The tank top was white, whereas the pajama pants were green with comical dogs on them. I was nimble in changing, glad for the chance to respite.
"You're so atypical sometimes." I vaguely made out the words, for although it was only about four o'clock in the evening, I felt slumber threatening to consume me. "You're superstitious half the time, and then you wont believe in the legend of the Phantom."
"Just a legend." I yawned. "Just a legend." and then, everything went black.
"ADRIANE, THIS ISN'T FUNNY! LET ME IN!" I instantaneously awoke from a troubled sleep, jumping to my feet. The room was stygian, a very rare occurance at this time, for I was sure it was only nine. Rachelle always refused to turn the lights off until at least eleven. It seemed rather foggy, but perhaps it was just that I had sat up to quickly... yes that was it! All the while, Rachelle's fists pounded upon the door in un-acquiescing rage. The pounding did not cease. I was utterly confused as I rushed over to the door and unlocked it. Rachelle fell inside, panting slightly, eyes ample with horror.
"Who was that?" she inquired, pushing herself to her feet.
"Rachelle, what are you talking about? Are you allright?"
"Who was in here? Don't lie to me, I heard someone, and the door was locked..."
I frowned, brushing my long dark hair away from my pale face. "There was no one in here, I was asleep... has anyone spiked the cool whip again?"
"NO!" Rachelle was overcome with a mad furry that frightened even me. "I'm just concerned for your safety and you- you- you treat me like I need to be locked up in a mental institute!" She stamped her foot, not unlike a child who was just denied a cookie before dinner.
"Explain what you mean." I said in a smooth, even voice, although I was aware my side were fluctuating visibly as I took deep breaths to calm myself. Had my friend really gone crazy?
Rachelle seemed to calm down a bit. Over the past years we had grown very close indeed. We shared not many but all of the same interests, and we were quiet alike in temperment and personality, though still differed. We actually lived- really lived, unlike all those do-good zombies who plagued out classes and called themselves our peers. "I went to the bathroom. I was sure you were asleep... I came back, the door was locked." Rachelle breathed, shaking her head as tears threatened to emit from her eyes. "And I heard a voice- a male's voice singing. I started screaming and I heard you moan like you always do before getting up... and the voice stopped. WHY THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU LAUGHING, IM NOT JOKING! Then two minutes later you opened the door."
This story had been so vehement that I wanted to believe her, but Rachelle had never been known for her truthfulness. I shook my head, grabbing her arm gently and leading her over to her bed. "Rachelle hun, you were... sleep walking." when she raised her voice in protest, I brought a finger to my lip to silence her. "Do not fret. I'm fine now. You just need to get some rest." she covered herself with the quilt, muttering something about 'her imagination'. I smiled and nodded, as if to encourage her. After all, she must have been dreaming...
I walked over to my own bed, ensconcing myself for a few minutes until It was audible that Rach's breathing had evened out. She was asleep. I turned to my pillow, ready to lay down, when I saw something that made my heart stop:
A single red rose with a black ribbon tied around it.