"Why don't you just go over and talk to them?" Brandon asked after watching Crispy stare at Stephanie and Ebony over her breakfast.

"Because they wouln't believe me and they refused to help me." she said simply.

"I think that if they knew what we knew, they'd want very much to help you." Crispy looked at Brandon skeptically.

"Don't even." She ceased gazing at her friends across the cafeteria and continued eationg in silence.

"That's crazy..." Ebony trailed off as she look in disbelief at the photographs of the phantom.

"And you guys are dating now? Good for you!" Stephanie added, "About time."

"And the sound the same too?"

"Yeah." It was easy for them to remain relatively calm and cheerful through Brandon's explanation. He had left out his encounter with the phantom. If they knew, he'd hate to worry them.

He had brought them to the small room where they had first caught the phantom on tape. Crispy seemed to spend more time here than anywhere else; it was only a matter of time until she showed up, and when she did...

Crispy stared for a moment as though she wasn't sure if she was in the right place. Then her face went hard and she made to leave. Brandon leapt from his seat and placed a hand on her shoulder saying, "Oh no you don't. I'm tired of you sitting there wishing that you guys were friends again and doing nothing about it."

"I said no." She sat down in his chair eyeing her friends suspiciously.

"Crispy," Ebony pleaded, "won't you at least listen?"

"Listen? You refused to listen to me. I've been here every day risking my neck, and Brandon too, and what have you to been doing?"

"Nothing," Stephanie answered, "I know, but we want to change that. Can't we just try?"

"Change this." she said in a dark hiss as she pulled back her fist to strike. Brandon seized her arm and restrained her.

"Now none of that. If you'd calm down, I think you'd see that they are sincerely sorry."

Crispy faced Brandon and wrenced her wrist from his grasp. She shook her head at him in disgust and bassed him to leave the room.

"So that's it then, is it? No mercy, not even for me?" asked Brandon with a sorry look upon his face.

"You know what? That isn't it." She returned to him, eyes flashing. He felt her hand across his face, first like ice, then fire. He made no reaction to being slapped, but simply kept his pitying gaze on Crispy. He watched as her expression changed from one of rage, to one of shocked fear.

"Oh God," she said to no one in particular. "What am I doing?" She ran from the room, from the building. She had to think. Alone.

"What..." Stephanie could barely speak. "Was that really Crispy? She was making no sense..."

"No," Brandon replied in a sorrowful tone, still staring at the door. "She's changed since you've known her, since I've loved her even. That wasn't Crispy. The Crispy you know is dead."

There was still one french horn secret that Brandon didn't know about, and Crispy planned to make use of it: the Loft. In the band room there was an elevator that lead to an upstairs storage space. Often more promiscuous students used it to hide their late night escapades. Tonight it hid Crispy.

She rocked back and forth with the lights off. She never in her right mind would have done that... and yet she had. She suddenly heard her own voice calling out to her in the darkness.

"He chose you... so did I..." She jumped from her place on the floor and tried to penetrate the darkness in the direction of the sound.

"Who's there?" she asked, frightened. The lights swiched on of their own accord to reveal a cardboard box... with her name on it.

She lifted the lid to find that it was filled with old colorguard uniforms from who knew when. There were some black rags, a purple dress, all ugly things really. She kept searching. There was something rather engrossing about the box of costumes. She found some old ribbons, a flowered wreath, a white mask, and a pair of wings. "What strange stuff," she said aloud. "I can't believe our guard actually war these things..."