-1"You're telling me my costume isn't finished, and the benefit's tonight!" cried Carlie incredulously, during a last rehearsal. Cristina couldn't help but shake her head at the diva.

"How dare you?" Carlie sputtered. She tossed back her fiery curls, and stood, gazing at the rehearsal scene with haughty disdain.

"This benefit would suck without me, and don't you even try to contradict that, Mr. Furman!" she bellowed, pushing away the roses the stage crew had prepared for her.

"White roses?" she added to the stage crew. "What to I look like, some sort of chaste little angel to accept your fucking white roses?" She straightened her dress. "Take them all away, and bring me back pink or red." She pulled out her compact, and started touching up her makeup.

"Quite the little ice queen, isn't she?" Megan whispered. She scowled. "Someone should really do something about that that bitch." She straightened her costume for the chorus act she would be performing in that night. "Bossing everyone around like some sort of god."

"I know, right?" asked Cristina, putting a few clips in her hair. "The rest of us have better problems than putting up with the random whims of Carlie Gold."

Megan pulled on her ballet shoes, and started doing the laces. "Hey, speaking of problems, what's new with your mystery guy?"

Cristina winced. "He's not my mystery guy, since I don't know who the hell he is. But yeah, as a matter of fact, he did sort of send me a letter in my locker this morning." She looked puzzled. "But I can't figure out how he's been opening my locker, to begin with." Cristina sighed. "But then again, there's kind of a lot I don't know about him." She laughed. "Like his name, for a start."

"Yeah, but what did the letter say?" Megan asked eagerly. Cristina knew Megan thought it was way exciting that her best friend had a secret admirer, since God knows nothing so interesting had ever happened to her.

"It just said carpe diem, and there was a red rose with a black ribbon taped to it."

Megan looked puzzled. "My Latin sucks. So what does carpe diem mean again?"

"Seize the day."

"Right. But what on earth could he possibly mean with that?" she asked, perplexed.

"Girls! I'd appreciate a little less socializing, and a little more dancing," said Mrs. Geofferson, walking by them.

"Sorry, Mom," muttered Megan, executing a perfect pirouette.

And then it happened. With a whooshing sound like falling thunder, one of the sets for the spring musical came hurtling toward the ground. Not to mention, it hurtled toward the ground and landed on Carlie. It would've been an understatement to say that the diva looked angry. She was livid.

"What the fuck is wrong with this school anyway!" she thundered between sobs, as Peter and the teachers tried to calm her down.

"Now, Carlie, I don't think any of that language is school-appropriate," said Mr. Andrews disapprovingly.

"School-appropriate?" Carlie repeated numbly. "Oh, and you think sets randomly falling from the rafters and nearly breaking my spine is school-appropriate!" She collapsed into dramatic sobs again, and Mr. Furman was glaring at Mr. Andrews.

Mrs. Geofferson strode over to the teachers, Peter, and hysterical Carlie. "There was a note," she said quietly. "On top of the fallen set."

Mr. Andrews snatched it out of her hand, and began to read aloud, every onlooker on stage listening in rapt silence:

"Dear Messrs. Andrews and Furman,

You don't know me, but I know you, for I have lurked here in the shadows far longer than you. As relatively new staff at Eastside High, I welcome you to my auditorium. I'm sure that you've heard about the spectacular musicals of this drama-magnet school, and now you know why they've come to be. I only ask that you comply with my requests when I send them, for I know far more of music than either of you could ever dream of knowing. Bear in mind that disobedience of my requests can result in fatal consequences, and as I know you care about your own safety and that of every student in this school, I trust that you will comply with my wishes. Your obedient friend.

Amiably,

The Angel of Music

The grave silence met by these words was broken by the sound of Mr. Furman chuckling. "Alright," he said. "Game's up. Which one of you is responsible for this?" Everyone stared at him in the same grim way they did as the last portion of the letter was read.

"Okay, I know senior pranks are popular, and I'll admit this one's pretty good. So just speak up now, and I won't turn you in."

Mrs. Geofferson tsk-ed in disapproval. "That note should be taken seriously, Richard. It's a death threat, and I'm pretty sure you don't come across death threats as the archetypal teenage prank."

Mr. Andrews nodded. "I, for one, will be turning this in to the principal." Mr. Furman only laughed harder. "Come on," he said, looking at his colleagues. "You can't believe some anonymous person is threatening to kill kids, can you?"

More silence at his words.

"He hears everything Richard," said Mrs. Geofferson. "I would watch my back from now on if I were you. He doesn't like people who don't take him seriously." And on that cryptic note, she walked off stage right.

"Well, I for one can't work under these conditions," said Carlie, regaining her haughty disdain. "And you know what, I'm sorry you're going to have to cancel the benefit, but tough." She stalked off after Mrs. Geofferson, and paused to look back. "Good luck without me tonight," she said, before turning on her heel and leaving.

"Perfect," said Mr. Furman after Carlie had left. "A hundred or more people have already confirmed that they're coming, and we don't have our star!"

"Doesn't she have an understudy?" Mr. Andrews suggested. Mr. Furman laughed.

"Carlie Gold? Have an understudy? I don't think so, Geoffrey."

And that was when Megan piped up from where she could stand.

"Cristina Arnez could sing it, sir."