Title: Good Riddance
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Anything anyone ever writes that is Phantom involved will belong to Leroux. Except if, you know, it belongs to someone else.
Summary: (Modern Telling)The final year of high school can be tough, even with the best friends in the world. Christine Daae knows this for a fact. The account of her senior year- new plays, loosing friends and much more. Most importantly, meeting Erik...
Chapter 3- Daughters and Fathers
-On behalf of every man
Looking out for every girl
You are the god and the weight of her world
So fathers be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do-
-"Daughters" by John Mayer
ChristineI tried not to let my eyes widen as she led the Fedora boy in. I tried, but by his crest-fallen face, I suppose I failed miserably.
"Charlotte, Christine," Mrs. Giry smiled in a way that made me feel guilty for no apparent reason. "This is Rayne Chagny and Erik... I'm sorry, dear, what did you say your last name was?"
He gulped, audibly, "Erik Dautron."
Mrs. Giry nodded and gestured to us, "These are two of the greatest actresses here at the school. You will audition for all three of us. You have your music, no?"
They both nodded, Rayne, vigorously, and Erik in a timid manner.
She smiled, "Well, then, who would like to go first?"
Erik cleared his throat to respond but Rayne smiled, charmingly. His teeth were gorgeous. They reminded me of chicklets.
Erik nodded and sat at the back of the theatre. I followed Mrs. Giry and finally caught a look at Charlotte who seemed rather annoyed at the thought of her ex-"fling" entering a society that held apart of her soul.
As he walked the steps to the stage, Mrs. Giry said, "Since we are short on time and because I know you are both very good actors, I only want you to sing a one of your songs. I will look at your applications tonight and let you know by next Drama meeting."
Rayne smiled, "Certainly, Mrs. Giry. May I have-"
"Oh, of course, Rayne. Charlotte, go to the piano."
Charlotte stood, angrily and snatched the sheet music from his hands. She plopped down on the bench and read over the song for a moment.
Finally, she began to play.
I recognized it immediately. I had been listening to the soundtrack just the night before. It was from The Boy From Oz. It was called "Once Before I Go".
Rayne was no Hugh Jackman (he was fine but not up to Wolverine standards). His voice was well trained but not pure talent. It was good. Really good, but not great.
I smiled when he was done. I did not really expect Erik to do better. Mrs. Giry also smiled.
"Thank you, dear," she said with a nod. "Very good. You might try lifting your head a bit more but we will get to that."
Rayne smiled, broadly, "Thank you, Mrs. Giry. And Christine and... Charlotte."
I nodded but Charlotte stared at the piano keys.
Mrs. Giry turned to Erik in the back.
"Alright, Erik, you may-" but she stopped short. There was no one there.
"Erik?" she called, rising to her feet. "Erik?"
She went to the front lobby and checked outside. She had Rayne check in the bathroom.
He was nowhere to be found.
Re-entering the auditorium, she lifted her shoulders, "What can you do? He probably became a bit nervous and left."
Rayne nodded, "Thank you for the audition."
She patted him on the shoulder, "Of course, dear. Tell your mother hello."
Rayne nodded to her, smiled at me then looked after Charlotte who still sat at the piano. He swallowed before leaving.
Mrs. Giry turned to me, "Thank you, girls, for your staying but I'm sorry to say there is nothing to judge. I am sorry for wasting your-"
"No worries," Charlotte said, tossing her hair over her shoulder and standing. "It was nice to hear."
I smiled, "Yes. It was nice."
Mrs. Giry nodded in agreement. We all said our goodbyes and Charlotte and I began to walk home from the school.
Home was not very far.
I had always considered our town a great place to live. It was quaint and reserved but not dull. There were movie theaters (regular and drive-in), two malls, an ice-skating rink, a teen club (which was incredibly grotesque and lame), pools (also grotesque), and most importantly- coffee shops.
It was a great place to be raised.
"So," Charlotte said, skipping, "What did you think of your first day as a senior?"
I smiled, shouldering my purse, "I don't know. What I expected, I suppose. Except for the whole part about-"
"The Fedora Kid and Rayne? Yeah, I know. Pretty peculiar."
I nodded and kept walking.
"You got homework?" Charlotte asked, yanking her hair from her eyes. I smiled at the action. Her hair was barely grazing her shoulders and was straight and controllable but she still thought of it as a complete nuisance. My hair was long and winding in curls. I thought Charlotte was the pretty one.
She was shorter than me by a couple inches (I am a whopping 5'4) and not as bony as me. She was perfectly proportioned and actually possessed curves while I was a stick with virtually no signs of womanly shapes. I had my mom's dark, coffee eyes (my dad called them Irish cream coffee colored) while Charlotte's eyes were glittering blue. I thought my sister was one of the most beautiful girls in the world.
She always told me I was.
"No," I smiled. "Do you?"
"Not anything I can't procrastinate."
"Smooth, Lotte," I said, turning onto our street (Mulberry Street). We neared the house and I saw dad's car. Parked next to it the crap-mobile (the car that Charlotte and I shared). I don't know what type of car it originally was.
Now, it was a pile of metal.
The cars on Pimp My Ride were Jaguars, Mercedes, and BMW's compared to the dinosaur we owned.
Our house was wide but short. It was tan-bricked ("very 70s" as Janie always said). While it was too big for our tiny family, it gave us room for what we wanted.
When you entered, there was a parlor. A bathroom, our art studio, a kitchen, a laundry room, Dad's room, Dad's office, and another bathroom were to the left. The dining room, living room, my room, Charlotte's room and the sunroom where we kept my puppy, Chaucer (she had to have a "Ch" name like Lotte and I) were to the right.
I loved out house. It gave us plenty of area and space.
Suddenly, Charlotte raced ahead of me, shouting, "I get shower first."
I rolled my eyes, following her inside and shutting the wooden door behind me.
I collected Charlotte's dropped green purse and denim jacket and hung them on hooks. I placed my black bag next to hers and went into the kitchen.
A clock read 9:05. I sighed and grabbed a glass of tea before slipping into dad's office.
"Hello, Chris," he smiled, his teeth chomping on a pen and his reading glasses slipping down his nose. I smiled.
"Hey, Dad," I grinned, coming behind him and hugging him. He turned from his computer and slid his glasses off.
"How was the first day back?" he said.
I nodded, "Good. Nice. How was your day?"
He gave a small smile, "Good. Nice. Where's Lotte?"
I picked up a paperweight off his desk. I had brought it to him from a trip to Boston when I was in the sixth grade. It was of a ship from the Boston Tea Party. It was ridiculously gaudy but I loved it.
"In the shower."
"Oh."
"Are you going to work late?" I asked, tossing the weight back and forth in my hands.
He slipped his glasses back on, "I bet so. You girls need anything?"
I shook my head, "Sign a few papers."
He nodded, turning back to his laptop, "Fine. Send them in with Lotte when she gets out."
I set the weight on the desk, "I will."
I kissed him on the cheek before going to the door, "Night, Dad."
"Goodnight, Christine."
"I love you."
"You, too," he said in a vague voice. I paused at the door. I might have stood there a full minute.
"Need anything else?" he finally said, not looking up.
"Do you feel... okay?" I mumbled.
He sighed and sank into his leather rolly chair.
"I'm weary," he sighed, using the "W" word, as Charlotte said. She said it was the worst word to use. Worse than tired, sad, mournful, stark-raving mad. She said "weary" was the worst because it meant loosing motivation.
She felt as though when he said that, it meant we couldn't inspire him to do anything.
I agreed.
I swallowed, "Why?"
"Don't worry about it, Chris. Go to bed."
I said nothing else but closed the door behind me.
I went out to Chaucer's room, fed her and played with her. By the time I went to my room, Charlotte was out of the shower, in her pajamas and was brushing her teeth.
"Dad alright?" she asked through her spit. I nodded, kicking my shoes off.
"When you say goodnight, take him the school forms," I mumbled.
She paused, peering at me through the reflection of the mirror.
"Listen, Christine," she said after spitting, rinsing and hanging up her toothbrush. "You know dad is busy. Work is hectic-"
"I know," I said, hardly over a whisper. "He has to work hard. I understand. I just wish... he was still a vionlist. I mean, we were well off-"
"Christine- don't fret over it. Things change. He doesn't feel the same way about theatre."
I nodded, "I suppose.
Charlotte paused before hugging me fondly.
"Night, beetle," she said, leaving the room.
I undressed and got into the shower, letting the hot water run only.
I understood he had to work. I understood his job was hectic.
I did not understand why that meant he couldn't even act like he loved me.
A.N.- Thanks for reading!
GoldenLyre- E/C-ness to come in chapter-fulls... Thanks!
SimplyElymas- Eep! You know Old 97s! They're my boys! I love them so much! Ok... breathe. Thanks for a great review!
Mai Gamit- Thanks tons!