Update: I don't know why the p align things suddenly appeared, because it looked completely fine on my computer when I posted it but I read your reviews and realized there's the p align thing..? Goodness knows what happened, so I'm reuploading the chapter! Sorry for the inconvenience guys!
A/N: Another week, another chapter! I should forewarn you guys that I have finals coming up pretty soon, so hiatuses are expected.
Tsuray: She's a character I have yet to introduce into the story! (: And thank you! I'll try my best to include some fluffy scenes.
Masked Man 2: She will definitely get the part, though I agree it would be a surprising twist if she didn't! Though it reminds me slightly of the POTO plot, of course. I think Charlotte sings well enough, just not as good as she thinks she is, so she wasn't written to exactly resemble Carlotta (:
emeraldphan: You bet Christine will have a positive influence on him! (: That's her job in this story, haha!
Skyila: Ooh congrats on the new job, and all the best with it! Don't worry too much about reviews, the story will still be here when you have more time (: Oh man, that's pressure to write Raoul well! I'll see how I can stuff him into the story, though I don't want to call him Raoul anymore, it feels wayyy too much like a POTO story then... but there aren't many guy names resembling Raoul that I can use. -dilemma-
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Chapter 4
It was a quarter to three when Christine slipped into the music theatre, her heart thudding in her chest. She placed her bag down on one of the seats and walked up onto the stage. She stared at the empty expanse of seats before her. She could sing like that. Her mind knew it was only a practice.
Sighing, she walked over to the piano and lifted the cover, running her fingers over the ivory keys as she warmed up her voice. She could not really play the piano, and had never really had a profound interest for the instrument, but she was able to use it for simple scales.
The door to the theatre creaked open again, allowing a beam of light to shine into the otherwise dim theatre, and a lump formed in Christine's throat as she spied the tall figure of Erik Chanteur striding purposefully toward the stage.
She got up hastily.
When he reached the stage, he arched one eyebrow at her. "Why did you stop?"
"Good afternoon, Mr Chanteur," she said nervously. "You're early."
He clucked his tongue at her. "It is a bad habit to be late, surely. Shall we run through some warm-up exercises together?"
Before she could protest or even respond, he had gently pushed her aside so that he could sit down on the piano bench. He flexed his fingers and placed them on the keyboard, and began to play some basic scales.
"Sing," he commanded, and Christine felt compelled to do so. She opened her mouth and sang.
When he finally stopped playing, he looked pleased. "Your foundations are built quite well, indeed."
Christine beamed. "My papa was my music teacher," she said, before realising that she had brought him up, and quickly shutting her mouth.
Erik merely looked intrigued. "Your father?"
Christine nodded numbly. "He passed away a few years ago."
He opened his mouth, no doubt to offer condolences, but at that moment the door to the theatre opened again, and this time it was Mr Gilford and the theatre club's pianist, followed by an irate-looking Charlotte.
"Oh, Erik, you're here already," said Mr Gilford. "Shall we begin the auditions, then?"
"I do not understand why we need to have repeat auditions," Charlotte snapped, folding her arms crossly. "Mr Chanteur, was my performance yesterday not up to your standards? Christine could not even complete her audition!"
"I have my reasons, Miss Redcliffe," said Erik silkily. "Are you questioning my abilities to discern between good singers?"
Charlotte flushed red, but thankfully did not push the topic. His lips thin with annoyance, Erik walked stiffly to sit beside Mr Gilford, gesturing for the pianist to take her position. Christine scurried off the stage, as Charlotte took her position.
"I don't know what you did yesterday, you little witch", hissed Charlotte as Christine walked past her, "but the role of Christine Daae is mine."
Then the opening chords were played, and Charlotte began to sing once more.
"Very well done, as usual, Charlotte," said Mr Gilford. "And now, Christine?"
He looked suspiciously at Erik, as though he, like Charlotte, could not understand why the man had called for another audition. Erik jerked his chin toward Christine, nodding slightly, and Mr Gilford sighed.
Taking small, mincing steps, Christine walked slowly to the stage, feeling as though the world were a blur around her. The pianist smiled at her encouragingly, and Christine smiled back nervously, her palms feeling clammy again. She rubbed them against her jeans, and nodded for the pianist to begin.
As she waited for the opening chords of the song to start, she looked into the audience at grim faced Mr Gilford, and Charlotte, who was sitting with a mutinous look on her face, and Christine's heart seized uncomfortably. She felt the familiar lump in her throat rise again, and she swallowed in horror. If anything, she had to sing this. She had no idea what Mr Gilford's reaction would be if she messed this up again, especially since it had been Erik who had requested for a second audition.
Her gaze flew frantically to his, and she saw that his eyes were fixed on her. Her lips parted imperceptibly in a hapless gesture, but she thought he noticed anyway, and his eyes narrowed.
"Sing," she saw him mouth, and she took a few deep breaths, staring him in the eye. He nodded slightly, an indication that she should sing, and Christine opened her mouth to try.
The first few notes she sang were shaky, and out of the corner of her eyes she could see the crease of a frown on Mr Gilford's face, but she forced herself to continue looking at Erik's face, and at his intense green eyes.
It was strange, but it gave her the courage to sing. And so she sang. She sang like she had the day before, when he had commanded her to sing for him. She sang like she had before her papa her passed away. It felt like liberation, like some sort of emancipation.
When the song was over, Christine broke her eye-contact with him, breathing heavily, and a little unsure of what had just happened, for she could not believe that she had managed to sing before an audience. It was something she had not been able to do for two years.
When she looked back at him again, there was a hint of a lopsided smile on his face—one corner of his mouth crooked upward. Christine felt her heart skip a beat.
"Well," said Mr Gilford, breaking the tense silence in the theatre. "That was… very well done, Christine. I don't believe I've heard you sing like that for two years now."
Christine smiled nervously.
"In any case, thank you both for coming for this call-back auditions," continued Mr Gilford, scribbling some notes onto a piece of paper in front of him. "You may go now."
With her nose in the air, Charlotte sniffed haughtily and flounced out of the theatre, not bothering to even look at Christine. Christine sighed and picked up her bag, before leaving the room as well.
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"How did it go?" Meg pounced on her as soon as she stepped onto the lawn outside the school. "Christine Sangare, did you sing like you did yesterday?"
"Yes," Christine admitted.
From the shocked look on Meg's face, it was clear that she had not been expecting a positive reply from Christine.
"You sang?" She stared at Christine, her eyes wide. "You could sing in front of people?"
"It was strange," Christine said, shrugging. "Somehow… I'm not sure how exactly, but when Mr Chanteur looked at me, all I wanted to do was not to disappoint him. After all, he arranged this call-back audition for me. And somehow… I just sang… and…"
She broke off as she noticed a familiar, tall figure walk up to a car that was waiting a short distance away on the road. "Give me a moment, Meg," she said, before she dashed toward the car.
Erik had had his hand on the handle of the open door, and was about to get into the car, when Christine ran up to him, shouting his name. He paused and looked at her curiously.
"Is there something wrong, Miss Sangare?"
"Yes, I mean, no," Christine huffed. "Mr Chanteur, I just wanted to say thank you."
"Thank you? For?" He raised his eyebrows questioningly, and Christine felt a flush creep up her neck despite herself.
"For… for the call-back audition," she said hastily. "Even though the role will still go to Charlotte, it was… liberating to sing again."
"Liberating?" He frowned, picking up on her use of the word.
"Yes," said Christine dreamily, as though her mind had wandered off to a scenario where she was singing on the stage once more. "It felt like freedom. That's what being able to sing again felt like. Freedom, and happiness, and…" She stopped, embarrassed, and coughed awkwardly.
"And… well, that's what I wanted to thank you for, Mr Chanteur," she said haltingly, wincing inwardly at how ridiculous she had sounded.
"It was no trouble, Miss Sangare," he said as he opened the car door wider and slid in. "I hate to see talent being wasted, that is all."
As she turned to go, she heard him say, "And Christine? I wouldn't count your chickens before they're hatched. About the audition, I mean," before the car door clicked shut and the vehicle drove off, leaving Christine alone on the pavement to realize that it was the first time that Erik Chanteur had referred to her by her name.
"What was that all about?" Meg asked, when Christine walked back to her. "You look a little shell-shocked."
"It was nothing," Christine murmured. "I just wanted to thank Mr Chanteur for allowing me to sing again."
"It's really quite amazing how you could sing again in his presence, though!" Meg said cheerily. "I mean, you haven't been able to sing in front of an audience in two years, not even in front of me!"
Christine allowed Meg's chatter to distract herself from her thoughts as the two walked home together, but she could not stop herself from thinking the thought that perhaps, just perhaps, Erik Chanteur was the reason why she could sing again.
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"You little bitch!" Charlotte shrieked at Christine, as Christine approached the theatre club's noticeboard. "Are you sleeping with him?"
"What?" Christine asked incredulously. "Who? What are you talking about?"
"This!" Charlotte spat, her face livid with rage. "Look at this!"
Christine looked at the place where Charlotte was jabbing a perfectly manicured fingernail. The role of Christine Daae, the words on the announcement said, goes to Christine Sangare.
"What?" She asked faintly. "But… how…?"
"That's the question I would like to ask you!" Charlotte snarled. "Everyone who was present at the audition knows that I should have this role, not you! You could barely even sing! How did you get this role?"
"I don't know," said Christine honestly. "Seriously, Charlotte, how could I have influenced Mr Gilford and Mr Chanteur's decisions? Why don't you ask them instead?"
"Don't you worry—I'll do just that!" With one last poisonous glare, Charlotte stalked off, her fists clenched. Christine watched her go, chewing her lip with worry.
"What was all that commotion about?" Meg asked, as she spotted Christine looking at the noticeboard with apprehension. She walked over to where Christine stood, and scanned the noticeboard quickly.
"Oh! Margaret Gables as Meg Giry!" She squealed, pointing at her name on the list. "Christine, I got the role of Meg!"
Mutely, Christine pointed to her own name on the list. Meg followed Christine's finger to the words printed on the paper, and silently, her mouth formed an "O".
"I know," Christine sighed resolutely. "There's going to be a scene during our meeting later."
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"I cannot accept this!" Christine heard a high voice shrill out as she entered the theatre with Meg. She grimaced, knowing that her prediction had come true.
Charlotte stood at the front of the theatre, her red lips pursed in anger, and her arms crossed. "Mr Chanteur, I demand an explanation!"
Christine's gaze drifted to Erik Chanteur, who was sitting in a front row seat, his legs crossed. She could sense an air of irritation surrounding him.
"There is no 'explanation', Miss Redcliffe," he said shortly. "I merely felt that Miss Sangare will be able to carry off the role more adequately than you will."
"But how?" Charlotte laughed derisively. "We all saw it! She couldn't even sing during her audition. I cannot see how a person with any common sense would think that she would be able to play the role of Christine Daae better than I could!"
"And that, Miss Redcliffe, is the reason why I am the mentor for this production," said Erik, standing suddenly, "and why you're not."
His voice was cold and sharp, and brooked no argument. Charlotte stood there with her lips tightly pinched together in a straight line, her displeasure evident on her face. She stared at Mr Chanteur, unsure of whether or not she should push her argument.
"As the mentor of this production," Erik snapped, "it is of my opinion that Miss Sangare will do a better job at playing this role than Miss Redcliffe. The first official rehearsal is in two weeks. If any of you wish to doubt my opinion, I would like to request that you wait until the first rehearsal to hear Miss Sangare sing. By then, if you have any strong opinion why Miss Redcliffe should be the one playing Christine Daae instead, I will consider your argument. Have I made myself clear?"
He spoke to the rest of the theatre club members, but his gaze was focused solely on Charlotte, his green eyes unyielding and hard. To Charlotte's credit, she merely flinched, and walked away, her face red with humiliation. There was a murmur of assent from around the room, and he nodded, satisfied.
Christine stood rooted to her spot, unsure of what to do. She could feel curious glances from all around her. There were those who had been with her in the theatre club since they had enrolled in the Academy, those who had heard her sing before. They were the ones looking at her encouragingly now, but then there were those who had only joined after Christine had stopped singing. They had no reason to think of Erik Chanteur as anything but unreasonable, for they knew that for the past two years, Charlotte had been performing much better than Christine. Christine winced to think of the bad impression that many of them would probably have formed of Erik Chanteur because of this scene.
She walked slowly up to him, thinking of what to say to him.
"Mr Chanteur," she said carefully, when she reached him. "Perhaps… perhaps it would be best if…"
"If the role went to Miss Redcliffe?"He snapped, guessing her thoughts. Christine looked down and nodded silently.
"If I wanted to give her the role, I would have done so from the start," he said harshly. "Why do you not have any confidence in your abilities?"
"I… I can't sing, Mr Chanteur," Christine looked up at him again. It was a mistake, for the disgusted look in his green eyes had her eyes welling up in tears as she remembered how magical it had felt to sing again.
"Mr Chanteur, I can't sing in front of a crowd. Please…" She shook her head and blinked her eyes furiously, unwilling to cry before him. "Charlotte would be able to sing it."
"No," he said mutinously, his mouth set in a stubborn line. "I know you are able to sing the part, and you will sing it."
Christine groaned inwardly, her mind replaying a horrific scenario in which she tuned up for the first rehearsal, and stood on the stage, her voice caught in her throat again, as Charlotte and the rest of the theatre club members laughed at her. She would be relegated to the chorus or backup roles again, humiliated and defeated.
"…lessons. Miss Sangare, are you listening to me?" His voice broke through her thoughts, and she looked at him again to realize that he was frowning quite intensely at her.
"I—I'm sorry, what did you say?" She whispered.
"I am willing to teach you, Miss Sangare." He raised his eyebrows at her. "To prepare you for the first rehearsal. I trust that you do not wish to embarrass yourself, or me, in front of the whole club?"
"I… yes…?" She said nervously, clenching her fists. Her palms had grown clammy again.
"Good." He handed her a slip of paper with an address scribbled on it. "This is my address. Shall we say, tomorrow at five o'clock?"
"Oh," said Christine suddenly, "I just remembered that I have a shift at the supermarket then. I can't make it."
He made an annoyed noise. "After your shift, perhaps? What time does it end?"
"Eight at night," Christine said apologetically.
"That will be fine," he said impatiently, looking at his watch. "I'll be expecting you around that time, then."
"Do—do we have to do this at your house?" She asked nervously. "Wouldn't the school be a better place?"
"It would be inconvenient for us to stay in the school at such a late hour," he said, frowning. "I can assure you that no harm will come to you in my house, Miss Sangare. You need not worry."
Christine flushed a bright red. "That's not what I meant, I—"
"Good. Then I'll see you tomorrow for our lesson." He cut her off briskly, and marched off, tapping on his phone as he went. Christine was left to stare at his retreating back as he walked away.
Lessons alone with Mr Chanteur? How did I get into this mess?
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A/N: Please follow/favourite/leave a review to let me know what you think! It would mean a lot to me! xx