The tour of the Met and its adjoining academy left Meg with her thoughts from before. Who was the man who seemed to possess the devil's seductive tenor and where had he gone? Meg wanted to believe it was the phantom in disguise, but her left brain cried for the likely truth. What were the chances that the phantom was in New York at the same time they were, and even if he was, what were the chances they'd meet? New York was a vast city full of thousands if not millions of people.
Meg remembered the last time she'd actually seen him, it was on the stage during the play 'Don Juan Triumphant.' He'd disappeared with Christine into a deep well in the center of the stage. Meg tried to chase them, fearful for her friend's safety. That had been the first time she defied her mother and as a result showed her mother that she was a lot braver and stronger than Madame Giry gave her credit for. Her mother finally broke down that night and told her everything. The Phantom of the Opera was no more than a man, a genius who had fallen in love with Christine and wanted to keep her from Raoul. Meg would never admit it but her heart went out to the jilted soul, one's love was precious regardless of the means in which they expressed it, though she had to admit he took it too far. She'd missed everything, arriving only to find something that unbeknownst to her mother she'd stolen and kept very close.
The young blonde shook her head and chuckled to herself, she had to be completely insane to obsess with the whole debacle. It was more logical to believe he was killed for his crimes against the opera. If only she could have asked Christine, maybe it was the whole mystery of it all that kept her attention. Perhaps had she the chance and been able to speak to her friend about all that had happened, maybe then this would only be a silly childhood memory.
It was then her attention turned, to thoughts of her dear friend. Raoul whisked her away before Meg could even say goodbye. She missed her terribly and made mental note to write her as soon as they were settled.
"Ahh, we are in luck!" she heard Mr. Diversey say, "Might I introduce our other dance instructor, Madame Soleil," Mr. Diversey gestured to a hall on the right, to the darkened corner from which perhaps the most terrifying woman emerged. Meg had to tilt her head up slightly as a tall and lanky woman glided towards them, she was about the same age as Madame Giry, but far less kind looking. Her svelte body was shrouded in what looked like a bohemian robe, long manicured fingers were covered in expensive looking rings of various shapes and sizes, a tight red bun held up her wrinkling, narrow face as best as it could.
Madame Soleil closed the distance between them and looked down her nose at the two blondes, "Madame Giry, I presume?" she drawled, fanning a careless hand in their general direction as a way to acknowledge them.
The elder Giry curtsied slightly, "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Madame Soleil. It is always a joy to meet a fellow instructor." Meg could tell by her tone that this was as nice as she was going to be to the condescending instructor.
"Forgive me," Meg spoke up, Madame Soleil cast her icy gaze upon her, causing Meg to literally shiver, "Why are there to be two instructors?"
"Madame Soleil is to be the instructor for the junior dancers," Mr. Diversey explained, he turned to Madame Soleil, "As Madame Giry is to instruct the senior dancers."
Meg bit her lip and shrank back, regretting bringing up the sore subject. It was not discussed, but common knowledge that the senior instructor earned a higher salary and was the one who got to train the dancers that would actually perform in the plays, by the way Madame Soleil straightened and caused her thin painted lips to disappear further it was obvious that the arrangement was not one she was particularly pleased with.
"Yes, well I'm sure you'll be more at ease here, we've many things in this opera, but we seem to be...lacking in the apparition department."
Meg stiffened at Madame Soleil's blatant attack on their past.
"Ah!" Mr. Diversey cut in, unwittingly but gratefully breaking the tense air between them, "If I'm not mistaken, Mademoiselle Giry is to be one of your students, is that not correct, Madame Soleil?" he asked.
Meg's stomach dove into her feet, that beast was to be her teacher? She glanced upwards at her mother, why hadn't she told her?
"I hope you are prepared to learn and work hard, Étudiant, I was unable to study you as I did the other students so I will have my eye trained especially on you. I certainly presume you are of some talent and not one who flies in under the wing of a certain noted dance instructor whom she has the fortune of being the daughter of."
Ah, so there it was, the real source of the contempt for Meg and her mother. In her naivete, Meg assumed it had to do with money. It was however a case of suspected nepotism.
Her stance expressed, Madame Soleil turned to her co-instructor, "You've been very silent, Madame Giry, could it be I have hit the nail too directly on the head for your liking?" She asked with a smile of self satisfaction.
The veteran dancer would not be put off by silly remarks, "I've no need to jump to Meg's defense. Her talent will speak for itself, Madame Soleil." she stated, lifting her head in proud defiance, "It has been a pleasure meeting you, now of you'd be so kind, I have a studio to prepare." she said and with a curt bow turned and motioned for Mr. Diversey to show her the classroom that would be hers. Leaving Meg alone with the tiger in ballet shoes.
Though fear was coursing through her veins, Meg clasped her hands in front of her and stood erect, not wanting to give her teacher another thing to complain about.
"Tell me, Meg, do you consider yourself a good dancer?" she asked, circling her new pupil.
"I have studied hard since I was a small child-,"
"I did not ask how long you have been studying," she cut her off, "I asked if you considered yourself a good dancer. I ask because I have high expectations of you. This opera company is predicted to be the best of the best, to make such a claim true, we need the best of the best dancers. You are not aware of it, but the road to get to this point was long and arduous. The world's finest dancers had to apply and reapply to even get an audition, I crushed so very many dreams for the benefit of this company and yet through all my work, one student was smuggled in, cloaked by her mother's reputation."
Her words angered Meg, she could feel her face getting hot, her heart beating with fury instead of fear.
"I'm no one's nanny, if my suspicions are correct and you're in fact not up to par, I've no time for you. Save yourself the embarrassment now, Meg and resign from this-,"
"I am more that simply up to par!" Meg nearly shouted, taking her teacher by surprise, "I've danced in all 10 of France's most notable opera houses and starred in nearly all of the Opera Populaire's shows from the time I was 4. I eat, sleep and breath dance, practicing until my muscles scream and my toes bleed. I have worked hard to get where I am and will not be passed off as some dance brat by someone who hasn't seen me dance!"
"Meg," the blonde turned to see her mother had returned, she seemed to be unaware of what had just transpired, but was as always on her guard. She bowed to Madame Soleil. The redhead curtsied back, but kept her glare on Meg.
Meg subjugated herself, remembering her mother's advise to always treat your superiors with respect, "Madame Soleil...I...I am ready to work hard for you and this company, thank you for being my instructor," she choked.
"The pleasure," Madame Soleil hissed, "is certainly all mine. Rest well, Meg and prepare to work...hard." she said.
Though she dare not look, Meg could feel the heat of Madame Soleil's glare on the back of her neck and wondered if she made the right decision to lash out the way she had.
Needless to say the first night at her temporary home was a restless one, filled with nightmares of the tiger in ballet shoes and dreams of the broken voiced homeless man.