Chapter 15

The next day found Poppy unusually quiet. She sat on the couch, doing nothing. Not singing her annoying songs, trying to joke with Erik, or anything. Just staring blindly at nothing. Erik was gone, somewhere. He was gone when she had gotten up. She sighed. Ayesha jumped up on the couch beside her. "Oh, Ayesha. What am I to do? I want him to be happy. But he deserves much more then that trollop. She has no brains. No backbone. How can I help him?"

Poppy sighed again. Then brightened. "I know how to take away the gloom and doom for the movement." She hurried and got her CD player. Since the time she's been down here, she now knew her way around. She went to a table that had a cornucopia on it. She made sure that it was empty. Poppy then placed the headphones near the small end. She then turned it on. Music blared out, making the stone cavern room echo it all-round. She grinned. A perfect way to forget about the present problem.

The song had a nice beat sound. 'They might be Giants-Putting on the Ritz,' CD. As the song went on she began dancing to the beat. She laughed as she spun around. Music always made her forget where she was. The song ended, and she changed CDs. Well, since she had missed Christmas, she figured that she'd play a simple Christmassy song. After trying several CDs, she found the one she was looking for.

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens,
she spun around in time to the music.
Brown paper packages tied up with string,
These are a few of my favorite things.

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudel,
Door bells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wing,
These are a few of my favorite things.

Girls in white dresses and blue satin sashes, she began to sing long,
Snow-flakes that stay on my nose and eye-lashes,
Silver white win-ters that melt into spring,
These are a few of my favorite things,

When the dog bites,
When the bee stings,
When I'm feeling sad,
I simply remember my favorite things,
And then I don't feel so bad.

XxX

Erik was giving Christine her lessons. He made her work extra hard. He liked Poppy and her rising in the opera house was fine, if she was to stay as a dancer, but she shown that she could be compaction for Christine. If it was Carlotta, he would not mind, but he had worked so hard to get Christine to where she was.

"Non!" Erik snapped, causing Christine to jump. From behind the mirror he saw tears welled up in her big eyes, "That's not the right note! It's a high C. Do it again."

"But Angel, I'm tired. We have been singing for hours straight."

Erik shook his head, "You need to work harder. The new girl can easily beat you. We worked too hard, to let her replace you."

Christine chocked her head," How will you get her to resign?"

"I have my ways. Now, begin with, Think of Me..."

Two hours latter Erik walked back to his lair, contented. Christine was finally ready. After her lessons he made a little visit to Lefevre. From behind a wall, he told the twitchy man to put on the opera earlier then scheduled. Now, he had on more thing to do: get Poppy out from Reyar. Put her back in the chorus. She had a great voice. It was almost a shame to not teach her as well. As Erik got closer to his lair he heard some music. It had a beautiful haunting sound. He walked into his lair, and saw where the music was coming from. Poppy had placed her headphones up at the end of the cornucopia so that the horn would bring the sound out more. Poppy herself was dancing around the stone room. She was wearing one of the dresses that he had gotten her. It was simple, but she filled it out well. As Erik stood there watching her, she spun, her ruby red hair fanning out behind her, and began to sing with the song. Her own voice bounced off the walls. She threw her emotions into the very song and made it better. The song ended, and Poppy stopped. She stood in the middle of the room. She hung her head, "What if I make it all worse?"

Erik walked up behind her, but before he could say anything she turned around, "Salute Erik."

"How, did you know?"

She smiled, "I smelled you. Nice cologne."

"What was that song?"

Poppy walked over to the cornucopia and picked up her player. "It was called My Favorite Things, by Lori Morgan. I did it for my very first singing residual. A big hit. It was then I decided that I wanted to perform again." She walked back to the couch and set down to catch her breath.

Erik followed. He sat down in the chair in front of her. "Tell me about yourself. All I know is that you are from the future and danced, when you were younger."

Poppy was resigned whether or not to tell him all about her. She then concluded that she didn't have to play show-and-tell. Only tell. "Well, as you may know or heard I was not always blind. Before it happened, I was in ballet. I was very good according to my teacher. She had told my parents and me many times that I had talent and could go far. Well, my parents are the kind to push their kids to the extreme. So they did that to me. From two years old to nine, I danced. Day in day out. I was pushed to my limits and further. But when I was nine, disaster struck. My mother and me were on the way to yet another dance residual, when a drunk driver came at us. He struck my side of the car. Glass flew at my face," Poppy paused remembering the horrid night. Erik saw the fear and past pain cross her face. He knew all too well about memories. They are painful. He waited until she was ready to talk again. She took a deep breath and began again. "I still remember what it was like. One minute I saw shards of glass flying at my face, the next nothing, but blackness. And pain. The most excoriating pain. It spread from my eyes to around the eyes. My mother was screaming, what I can't remember, but she had a broken arm. I felt hands pull me from the car. They laid me on the ground. I could hear gasps of horror, and disgust. I kept hearing a voice saying "Don't, cry. What ever you do don't cry." Poppy scuffed, "'don't cry," she mocked," Ha! I was too much in shock to cry. Pain reradiated from my very eyeballs." Poppy sighed," It was not until latter that I found out that my eyes had been cut. The nerves slivered. Overnight, green went to...another color. Around my eyes was also cut badly. My parents said they still loved me, but I was now a disgrace to them. No pretty little red haired girl to dance for their rich friends."

Erik felt compassion. It was harder to have love then lose it, then not to have love. "But you still dance. And are very good. Why didn't they.."

"I don't know!" Poppy screamed at him.

Erik blinked in shock. "What?"

"I don't know! People are funny like that." She hung her head, "I'm sorry I yelled."

"It's fine. You were cheated. Now, why and how did you choose singing as your next option?" Erik questioned.

Poppy smiled, "You."

Erik was taken back, "What? Me? How?"

She grinned, "Well, one of my friends had tickets to a Phantom of the Opera show. She asked if I wanted to go. I said yes. It was my first time hearing the play. The music was so beautiful and compassionate that I wanted to sing like that. Well, my parents were not happy. They thought I was helpless. So for years I sunk lessons and sang every chance I got. Finally, when I was 17 I had my first residual. My parents were glad that I had good voice, but not so glad that I wanted to make it my career. When I came here I had just come back from an audition."

Erik was baffled, "Did you get the part?"

Poppy faced him full and snarled, "No. They didn't want a blind singer."

"I am so very sorry. I-"

"I don't worry about it. No use crying over spilled milk. Here, they aren't so picky. I have a chance to now have a possible career in singing, opera no less."

That's what he needed to tell her. "I have something to ask you."

Poppy pricked up, "Yes?"

"It's about Christine."

Her face fell, "Oh."

"I pulled some strings and they will be performing "Hannibal" earlier then scheduled. I want you to pull out of singing and go back to chorus, so that Christine will sing instead." Erik told her.

Tears welled up behind her glasses. If she wasn't as strong as she was, she would of run crying to her room. But she was strong, so she nodded, "Ok. I'll tell them that I hurt my ankle or strained my throat. Something." She stood, her face becoming cold and hard. "Now if you excuse me, Monsieur I must go and think of a lie." She then turned and walked out of the room.

Erik was confused, "Poppy what's wrong?"

Poppy turned around, her face cruel, "Why nothing at all. Just giving your Angel the limelight, since she is so much of a angel and," She voice cracked, "since you love her so much. I did promised didn't I?" With that she hurried out of the room, leaving one discombobulated Phantom staring after her.