Grandma parked by a brownstone apartment complex. Each had a patio with its own decoration. She parked across one with flowerbeds, bush pots, three chairs circling a circular glass table and a chandelier that looked like it had unlit candles on it. "Home, sweet home," she said before getting out.
I got out and stared at it, amazed. "This is your house?" I said.
"Uh-huh," she replied causally. "You weren't staying with me when you visited twelve years ago, but I had it then."
"Right," I said. "Wow."
She led me up the stairs to the porch and as she unlocked the door a man said, "Bonjour, Annette…et étranger."
"Bonjour, Horace," Grandma replied. "ceci est ma petite-fille, Avril, elle ne parle pas français ainsi si vous ne vous occupez pas."
"Of course," said the man. "Welcome to France, Avril."
"Avril, this is my neighbor Horace," Grandma said.
I politely shook his thick hand. He had a huge head with some hair left on his head but it was pretty gray. He seemed to be about fifty or so. "Thanks," I said.
"And Horace, Happy Days is on tonight."
"Yesssss!" he shrieked as Grandma opened the door to let me in.

The room Grandma gave me was really nice, nicer than any bedroom I had ever seen. There was a high-rise bed with royal blue sheets and pillows and a desk at the feet with a really comfortable-looking chair. Under the bed were drawers and at the head there were shelves. There was a wooden door she said led to a bathroom and a few paintings of flowers that complimented the pastel purple walls. She helped me put my stuff into the drawers that already had some really nice clothes in them. I thanked her and realized I was exhausted so she let me rest. I slept like a baby but dreamt of something…peculiar.

I saw Carmen again at the Palais Garnier but I wasn't with Grandma or my dad or Alex. I was sitting in front row center with silent strangers. The show was really good, better than the one I saw when I was five, but during the intermission someone seemed to calling my name. I followed the sound until I reached a Victorian-style dressing room. The wide and spotless mirror was kind of dark and I walked towards it until I saw a figure dressed in black with blacker hair and a bright white mask covering half of his face. He was really just like…the Phantom of the Opera. Gorgeous. I walked forward as I could hear him sing, "I am your angel of music…come to me, angel of music…"

I woke up to the sound of a kettle shrieking. I rubbed my eyes and realized I was drenched with sweat. The sheets had a puddle of sweat in the shape of my torso. I saw the sun was out and bright but there was more fog when I looked out a window. I went into the bathroom, washed my face and went to the kitchen to find Grandma in a sky blue robe, pouring tea. The clock on the stove said nine thirty. She heard my footsteps and said, "Avril, you have been asleep since you got here on Thursday. It's Friday morning. I tried to wake you but you started hummingPhantom tunes and I didn't want to disturb a good dream. That would be cruel. Would you care for some green tea?"
"Yeah, thanks," I said, sitting at the circular wooden table. She poured two cups of tea and passed one to me. She then put two glass jars, both with some glass flowers around them, one with honey and the other with sugar. I gave myself some honey as Grandma got out a box of pancake mix and a bag of chocolate chips. She put them on the counter and put some sugar in her tea. She took a long sip and then started making pancakes. "They're better with chocolate chips if you ask me," she said as I took a sip of my tea.
I swallowed and replied, "I agree."
"Do you like them soft?"
"Yeah."
"Good, so do I." She started mixing the pancakes and then asked me, "So, was there any Phantom business in the dream you were having?"
"I was humming something, you said?" I asked.
"Yes, you were humming Angel of Music," she replied.
"I was kind of hearing it," I said. "And…seeing a Phantom."
"A movie Phantom?"
"Um, black-haired with a half mask. He was ridiculously hot," I said.
"I would have done anything to go to the 2004 premiere," she said. "But I couldn't. Not because I would be arrested for attacking Gerard Butler, but it was too far away. I saw it at midnight at a theater and I didn't want it to end. It was absolutely perfect."
"Cool. I saw it after school one day. I was, like, nine and I understood it pretty well. Other versions pissed me off. Especially the 1998 one."
"I saw it on TV and turned it off in the middle because it disgusted me!" Grandma shrieked after flipping two pancakes and taking a sip of her tea. "It would be good if it weren't the Phantom of the Opera!"
"I know, right!" I exclaimed.
"And the horror movie one, the only thing scary about it was that they changed everything good about the story!"
"It sickened me," I scoffed. "I don't know why the hell I sat through it. I wasn't scared, I was disgusted, and that's worse than being scared."
"You seem to be a very brave girl, Avril," Grandma said.
"I am," I replied. "I couldn't stop laughing when I saw Child's Play when I was seven."
"Who showed you that?" Grandma asked with wide, disgusted eyes.
"I dunno, probably a boyfriend of my mom's thought he could get on my good side by spending time with me but the only thing we'd agree on were movies and he only liked atrocious horror movies. Child's Play entertained me, as disgusting as it was. It made me laugh."
"Well, you are a trooper," Grandma said.

When we finished eating, Grandma gave me a map, some money, her phone number and a huge red tricycle with a wire basket under the seat and told me to get out of the house and enjoy Paris. I insisted on taking a quick shower so I wouldn't stink up the place. I put on flared skinny jeans, a gray pea coat because it was forty degrees and foggy, and a black Phantom of the Opera shirt that said in uppercase letters PHANTATIC. I put my instant camera around my neck, got on the bike and followed the directions to the Palais Garnier.

"Damn it, where is it?" I murmured to myself in the middle of Paris bustle. I looked around until I caught a glimpse of something bright and beautiful. I gasped and stared at it feeling as small as I did when I was five. I turned on my camera and took as many pictures as my finger could press. When I was through I biked around some more until I thought I saw the words Phantom of the Operasomewhere. I found a sign saying "Phantom of the Opera Auditions March Twelfth." My mouth dropped. I tore off a stub with the address and biked to the destination.

I found the building, a simple and small beige community center, fairly far from the Opera House but near. There was a bike rack so I parked and then went inside. A young woman with straight blonde hair was sitting at a desk reading something and I said, "Excuse me, um, do you speak English?"
She turned to me and said, "Yes, I do. How can I help you?"
I showed her the stub and said, "Um, I found this. What's going on?"
"Oh, Phantom of the Opera," she said with a smile. "Yes, my uncle is directing it. Do you want to audition?"
"Yes!" I shrieked eagerly.
She smiled and reached into the desk. She handed me a sheet of paper and said, "Come back tomorrow with this filled out."
I skimmed over it and said, "So I can pick a song as long as I have the sheet music with me?"
"Yes, and on the back is a list of long lines they'll read you in for or monologues you can read for them."
I looked at them and saw among them was one from Mean Girls. I said, "So, do I ask you for a copy of the monologue when I choose?"
"Yeah, what do you want?"
"Mean Girls," I replied.
"Cool," she said, digging through the desk again. She handed me the long line from the end of the movie before Cady breaks the Spring Fling Queen crown apart and throws it to everyone. I skimmed through it and said, "Oh, I can totally do this."
"That's good," she said. "Well, good luck."
"Thanks!" I replied before scurrying to the bike.