Wandering Child

Chapter 8- Inside the Opera Populaire

A/N: There will most likely be some French sentences some of the next chapters. The translations will be at the end of each chapter. They will be in order of how they are written. The French parts are underlined.

-

I strolled down the streets of Paris in a daze. I had no idea where I was going. AM3 and AM4 were walking in front of me. I saw people milling about on the streets, going about their daily lives. A man was buying groceries from a vendor, a woman was pushing a stroller with a screaming baby in it, and I could see at least a hundred tourists taking pictures on every block.

All of a sudden, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see a woman ask me something in French. I was glad that I was forced to take French Immersion classes in my Junior High years.

"Pardon, Madame?" I asked.

"S'il vous plait," The woman said. "Mais, pouvez vous prendre une photo de moi et mon ami?" She held out a camera.

"Oui." I said. "Mais, une moment s'il vous plait." I turned and called out to AM3 and AM4. "Wait a second, guys." I saw them turn and AM4 looked at me and sighed heavily.

I turned back to the lady and she and her friend put their heads close together and smiled broadly. I took the picture, and I heard a buzzing sound. It was an old camera, not a digital, and I knew what that sound meant. It meant that the film was full and no more pictures could be taken. I explained this to the woman and she thanked me very rapidly. Then she and her friend walked off talking and laughing.

I turned back to see AM3 and AM4 frowning and looking irritated. "What?" I asked.

"You're supposed to stay incognito, remember?" AM4 hissed.

"You need to lighten up." I said, looking at him mildly. "The world is not going to come to an end if I take someone's picture for them."

"And you need to realize the gravity of the situation." AM3 said sternly. "We are here to retrieve our much-needed friend, and your acting like a regular tourist!"

"Well, it is Paris." I said. "La ville d'amour."

"It's also where the Opera Populaire is. Now come on! We don't want to be late for our appointment." AM3 grabbed my arm and half dragged me along the crowded streets.

"What appointment?" I asked as I felt my arm go numb.

"We have made an appointment with the owner of the Opera Populaire. He thinks that we are architects." AM4 said. I wonder if my arm will fall off if AM3 keeps pulling on it. I mused.

"You will pretend to be my little sister so as not to arouse suspicion." I nodded, but AM4 couldn't see me.

"Okay." I said. Then I abruptly changed the subject. "I can't feel my arm." I said. AM3 let go of me.

"Don't lag behind." She said. "We want to be there on time."

"Acting as architects will allow us to be able to go into the bowels of the Opera Populaire. Those tunnels are extremely difficult to navigate, so you have to stay with us at all times, alright?" AM3 said.

"Okay." I said, rubbing my arm as it hung limply beside me. "But how will you get the time machine into the tunnels?"

"It's portable." AM4 answered.

"Then how come it has a cloak?" I asked.

"Well, it's not so much of a cloak as it is something that allows the machine to become very, very small." AM4 replied.

"Then why did you call it a cloak?" I asked.

"You ask a lot of questions." AM3 commented.

"And you don't answer many." I said.

"We answer all of them." AM4 said.

"But you don't give me the answers that I want." I said.

"That's not our problem." AM3 replied.

"Yes it is." I said.

"No it isn't." She argued.

"Yes it is."

"No it isn't."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"ENOUGH!" AM4 thundered. "I don't want to hear any more arguing. Is that clear?"

"Yes." AM3 said meekly.

"No." I said to piss off AM4.

"Yes." AM3 said angrily at me.

"No." I said snottily to her.

"SHUT UP!" AM4 yelled, and we both jumped. AM3 winked at me and I winked back. We both knew that AM4 was just too uptight, and it was too tempting not to tease him. I suspected that it was probably the most fun AM3 had had in a while.

After a long pause, AM3 slowed down to be able to talk to me a little more privately.

"Is there anything I can call you besides 'AM3'?" I asked.

"Well," She said slowly. "I still remember my name from before I joined the Council of Music." I looked expectantly at her. "It was Joleen."

She looked down at her hands. "My Mom would sometimes call me Joey, though. She would say it teasingly." She paused and then looked me straight in the eye. "You can call me Joey." She said.

"Okay, Joey." I said. "But that means that you have to call me by my name."

Joey smiled. "Okay, Rebecca." She said. "But please don't call me Joey in front of the rest of the Council. They would demote me again."

"What do you mean again?" I asked. But before she could answer, AM4 stopped and turned to us.

"This is the Opera Populaire." He said, and moved away so I could see better.

There's only one word to describe the Opera. Magnificent. It was enormous. It looked to be about the size of a football stadium. It had flowing archways, gilded carvings, and even gargoyles. I had never seen gargoyles up close, and I hoped that I would get a chance to.

I would have stood in front of the Opera Populaire forever, gaping like a loon, if Joey hadn't grabbed my arm and dragged me inside.

When we walked inside, I gaped at the interior. (A/N: Just so everyone knows, this is from my imagination. I don't know how it really looks.) There was an enormous painting on the ceiling of the Opera. It was a painting of cherubs flying among clouds. Every detail was put in it. Including the cherubs' wings. I could see every individual feather.

AM4 walked up to the front desk and introduce himself as Mr. Smith and Joey as his colleague, Miss. Beaumont. Does he not know that Smith is not a French name? I asked myself. Then he introduced me.

"This is my sister, Marie. She is interning with my business." He beckoned me over.

"Hi." I said, and shook her hand. Play the part of an intern, Rebecca. I told myself. "You have an incredible amount of architecture." I commented. "I was looking at the carvings outside. It must have been very difficult for the people to make such beautiful carvings in the eighteen-hundreds."

"Actually," The woman said. Her nametag said, 'Jenny'. "There was a fire here in the late nineteenth century, and the whole thing was practically burned to the ground. But in the early twentieth century, someone bought the place and had it redone. It looks almost exactly the same as it did before the fire."

"Fascinating." I said with enthusiasm that I did not feel, and looked up as though I were examining the ceiling.

"Monsieur Richard is waiting for you in his office. It's just à votre gauche." She said. Then she pointed.

"Thank you." AM4 said, and turned right.

"Ummm," I said. "You might want to go the other way."

"Why?" AM4 asked, and stopped in front of a wooden door with a gilded doorframe.

"Because," I said. "She said it's to your left, not right."

AM4 turned red with embarrassment. "I know that." He snapped, and turned in the right direction. Joey and I followed.

As we passed the front desk again, I called out to the secretary, "Merci, Mademoiselle."

The secretary looked up and called back to me, "De rien."

A/N: I hope you enjoyed that. Review, please! And here are the translations:

1) Pardon, ma'am?

2) Could you please take a picture of my friend and me?

3) Yes, but one moment please.

4) The city of love.

5) To your left.

6) Thank you, Miss.

7) Your welcome.