Alison soon learned that when Madame Petit said to be down by a certain time, she always meant five minutes earlier. She woke up the next day to begin her first day of work and realized that she had exactly one hour before it began. She quickly pulled her hair into a long ponytail, applied minimal makeup, and threw on comfortable clothes. She left her room ten minutes early exactly when Josephine was going down the halls, knocking on everyone's doors.
"Morning," she greeted, beating on her sister's door. "I did not have to warn you about times."
"What do you mean?"
"Madame Petit likes all her patrons to be downstairs five minutes prior. I did not have to warn you of that." She looked impressed, and Alison shrugged her shoulders.
"It was the same way backstage in Chicago." She silently thanked her previous employer for the preparation and stepped out of the room. Adele slowly walked out of her room dressed in another pair of overalls covered in paint. She had a cup of coffee in one hand and her hair still in plaits.
"Must be exciting for you," she said, walking to Alison with a tired smile. "First day."
"I'm more nervous than anything, to be honest." Alison glanced back into her room at the wardrobe, looking back at the shirts neatly lined inside. "I had enough trouble finding a good outfit."
She shut the bedroom door and walked with Adele to the stairs, as Adele moving would help wake them up more. By the time they had reached the main level, Carmen was already waiting at the end of the stairs. Adele excused herself to wash her cup, and the other three girls soon joined them at the bottom. Madame Petit arrived precisely five minutes before she had asked them to be there, around the same time Adele snuck up behind Alison to wait.
"I see you are all here," she said stiffly, eyeing Alison particularly. "You should all know your tasks for the day. Alison, I will be showing you your work for today. The rest of your are excused except for Josephine."
The girls aged older than Alison dispersed down the hallway to the stage, leaving only Madame Petit, Josephine, and Alison.
"I expect nothing less than hard work from you today. Josephine will show you the set we will be working on today, and I will teach you the proper way to paint it," Madame Petit said, then turned to the head painter. "I trust Josephine to do a great job training you as well."
"Of course," Josephine said with a soft smile. "Ali, we're painting the set for Tartuffe. A very popular comedy."
"I've heard of it," Alison said with a slight nod.
"Carmen and Adele are outlining the image of the house, of course. Antoinette is in charge of scene 3's set, which is what you will be working on as well." Madame Petit nodded her head in agreement.
"Follow me." Again, Madame Petit began to walk and Alison had to run to keep up. They reached the stage in no time where the paint, brushes, and plywood were stored. Carmen and Adele were already hard at work on the 3-dimensional house, sometimes whispering to each other. Josephine came to them a few seconds later and began to pull out her supplies.
"Paintbrushes, paint, set." Madame Petit pointed to each item, then picked up a paint brush. "These are not cheap. I expect them to have not one speck of paint by the end of the day. Clean with only approved soaps and water."
Alison, out of her peripheral vision, noticed a shadow move across the wall of the building. She didn't dare a glance over but figured it was simply a stagehand working out the technicalities of the set.
"Paint up and down. It will take more than one coat - do not lather. If you do, I will know and you will be fired. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am." Alison could feel stressed already about messing up, but swallowed it down with a kind smile.
"Good. Now, get to work." Madame Petit walked away and Josephine walked to her.
"She can be intimidating, I know," she said, then pointed to a pulley. "I'll have you work on the bench up top today. Have you done so before?"
"Once, when I was little."
"Simple to use, just tug the ropes. Get your paint, brushes, and get to work!" Alison nodded as Josephine handed her two gallons of paint and three paintbrushes as well as other supplies. She carried them to the platform, set them down, and sat on top of it. Once she was secured, she pulled on the rope to lift herself. When she was twenty-five feet up, she stopped and looked over the bare wood in front of her. Then she opened the can of light paint, lifted her paintbrush, and began her work.
She moved efficiently and made sure to follow the rules she was given, and worked without another word for the next hour. She would occasionally answer Josephine's questions, or laugh at a comment Adele made her way. She enjoyed working on the platform, as it was quiet and easy to focus.
She had finished the first section and was currently working on the second when Madame Petit beckoned her to come back down. She did as quickly as allowed, carefully stopped, and stood to greet her. Madame Petit looked at the work from the ground with a stern expression and her hands on her hips.
"Mediocre, I suppose. But not the worse I have seen," she said. "I do not enjoy seeing paint strokes unless they are meant to be. Careful of that. Work in one direction."
"I will," Alison said, wondering if Madame Petit was just looking for reasons to hate her work. She said nothing else to her, and instead, turned to Josephine.
"Josephine! Switch places with Alison." Josephine set her brushes down and went to the platform. She was up where Alison had been in just a few seconds and Alison took Josephine's place. For the first few strokes, Madame Petit stood hovering over her shoulder. She made comments about her work, or things she needed to do, and spoke of tips. Alison was finally relieved when she walked away.
"She's harsh, huh?" Adele said, walking over during a short break. "Yeah, it was the same for me. She will like you in a week or two, don't worry. At least you were not dropped from the platform your first day."
"What?" Alison asked with wide eyes.
"Yeah, Phantom does not like me much, I suppose. It was him, I know it." She looked accusingly to the rafters of the building, waved to a few stagehands, then looked back at Alison's work. "I'm surprised he hasn't done anything to you yet."
"I guess I haven't given him a reason yet," Alison muttered under her breath, tired of hearing about this strange Phantom that everyone seemed to be terrified of.
"He does not need reason." Adele walked away then, and Alison returned to focusing on her work. She was careful not to allow any strokes to show through. She wasn't all too impressed with her work, however, and began to push herself to make it better.
It was good enough for the Phantom, however. He watched from the rafter above her, piecing together what he would do to scare her. She was obviously different than the others - she held her fear well, according to Madame Petit, and she was very kind. To him, she was doing a great job with painting for her first day. He assumed she was a naturally-gifted artist by the way she moved without trouble.
He still hadn't seen her face, only her hair and her back. Every time he would move to see how she looked, she seemed to know and turned in the opposite direction.
The Phantom ducked into the shadows as a stagehand walked past, laughing about some story from a local bar. He rolled his eyes, then returned to his spot. It was then that he decided the best way to scare her would be to catch her by surprise.
He released his sword from his belt and cut the rope in front of him holding up a small platform. The rope and platform plummeted to the ground quietly without being seen for one second before the silly redhead noticed it. She yelled for the girl to move aside, but it was a moment too late and the platform crashed a few feet away. He laughed quietly to himself as the girl jumped into the air, dropping the paintbrush onto the plastic lining on the ground, and nearly tripped over the paint bucket. She hadn't yelled, but gasped from lack of time - she now held a hand over her heart and looked up to the rafters to see why it had fallen.
He finally saw her face and examined it in the limited time he had. A long face surrounded by loose curls, and a button nose. She had no cupid's bow, just lips - a beauty mark on her chin - a faint, very faint, scar on her forehead - soft, pale skin - and finally, her eyes. They were well-rounded and framed by long eyelashes. They were baby blue, vibrant, and scanned the area quickly. He wondered how they moved as fast as they did.
She was a lovely girl, but it didn't compare to . . .
He stopped at the thought, an array of emotions bubbling up from his heart. Christine.
He didn't even notice her eyes land on him as he looked to the ground. He still felt a strong feeling of love for the woman he had let go, and anger for the man who stole her away. He longed to feel his Christine once more, although she had perished long ago. When he looked up from his sorrow, his eyes met those of the girl and he watched as a soft eyebrow rose.
She looked over the white mask, then his own raised eyebrow, and scanned the face peering down at her. As soon as she blinked, however, he was gone and the others had run over to ask if she was okay, distracting her from searching again.