Chapter 9

It had been almost a month since the senior class trip to Paris and we had started rehearsals for 'Beauty and the Beast' almost immediately after we returned. Some of the rehearsals went well, and others not so well. Monsieur Destler, along with everyone one that was in the ensemble, was getting stressed. He was getting aggrivated that the soloists wouldn't sing out more and the other ensemble members wouldn't quit mocking him.

Drake had gotten the part of Gaston, the villian, which was interesting on my part because everytime he had this big song called 'Me,' which I was in, I couldn't help but laugh because he was acting so obnoxious. At times, he was being so obnoxious that we would get into arguements. As the rest of the class found the arguements funny, Monsieur Destler did not. This guy named Jay, who was extremely shy, got the lead as the Beast. For someone who was shy, he had an amazing voice.

Buquet was still bothering me, in more ways than one. He actually pulled me out of Monsieur Destler's class just so he could do what he called 'pleasing me.' It was not pleasing at all. It was revolting and disgusting and he was nothing but a pig. I was so close to telling Monsieur Destler one day during my lessons, but I didn't. He and Buquet loathed each other. I couldn't tell Monsieur Destler something like that. What if he hung him like he did in the dream?

The dreams.

That was another thing. The dreams had stopped. I hadn't had one since the plane ride home. I could only hope that they were done for good, but I wanted to finish the story of Christine Daae. What happened to her? Did Erik come back?

"Everyone, please," Monsieur Destler yelled, throwing his score down onto the stage, breathing heavily. "We open in a month and you can't tell your left from your right? Come on, people! It's not that hard!"

I sighed, rolling my eyes.

Monsieur Destler was attempting to choreograph 'Be Our Guest' and he was stressed enough as it is. It was the tango part of the song where Lumiere the Candlestick and Babette the Featherduster danced together. Chrissy, my equivilant of Carlotta, was playing Babette, and it was obvious that Monsieur Destler was blaming her.

"Must you always blame me, Monsieur Destler," she asked, with her hands on her hips, standing next to the guy playing Lumiere.

"Well, when you can't dance..."

"Hey! I can dance!"

"Really? Show me then!"

She stood still, glaring at him.

"That's what I thought," he said. "You need to learn how to act and not rely on your normal trick of strutting around the stage."

She gasped, then Monsieur Destler turned to me, holding out his hand. "Sophia, would you join me please?"

I looked around and everyone was staring at me. "Me, Monsiuer?"

"Yes, you. You have to learn a dance as well. It's not the tango, but it is the waltz. Now, don't make me ask twice," he said, still holding out his hand.

I looked around and stood up. Jay wasn't there today, so Monsieur Destler was doing everything that he was supposed to. As I walked to him, everyone was wolf whistling and cat calling.

"Shut up," I said, then Monsieur Destler gently grabbed my chin, turning my face to his.

"Focus on me, Sophia," he said, moving one of my hands to his shoulder and taking my other hand in his.

"Ooh, look at Sophia," I heard Chrissy say. "She's blushing."

"Chrissy," I said, glaring at her, "don't make me come other there to kick your a --"

"Sophia," Monsieur Destler said sternly. "What did I say?"

I sighed, turning to look at him again. "Focus on you."

"That's right. Now," he said turning to the rest of the class, "if I hear another word out of any of you, you have dentention for the rest of the year and you're out of the production. Got it?"

"Yes, Monsieur Destler," the class said in unison.

"Good. Maria, start the song please."

As the song started, he let me go. I stepped away somewhat, but was still near him.

"Don't go away," he said to me, then said to the class as the words filled the auditourium, "if you have lines, say them on your cues. Sophia, you have to imagine that I am Jay, all right? Just imagine me as the Beast."

I nodded and waited for my cue, holding out my hand just as he had done for me, and said my line.

"Dance with me."

"No..."

"Dance with her," Lumiere and Cogsworth said.

He sighed, taking my hand. I placed my hand on his shoulder and he put his hand on my waist. He slowly began to dance with me. As we danced, it felt like that it was just us and no one else was there.

"For someone who doesn't dance much," he said softly, looking at me, "you move like a natural."

I smiled softly. "Thank you."

"If you want, along with your voice lessons," he said, twirling me around, "I can give you extra dance lessons."

"If you don't mind, that would be great."

"It's no problem at all. Also, see me after class."

I nodded, going back to sit down, ignoring eye contact with Drake.

After class and after some major persuasion to tell Drake to go on without me, I walked up to Monsiuer Destler, who was putting the CDs away.

"You wanted to see me, Monsieur Destler," I asked meekly, adjusting my bag on my shoulder.

"Come with me," he said sternly, walking away from me.

I followed him, swallowing some. By the sound of his voice, he wasn't very happy with me. He didn't have a reason to be unhappy. I was going to my voice lessons, which he provided for free, and I was doing well with my lines. What could've possibly have been wrong?

We walked into his office and there was a piece of paper on his desk. He sat down in his chair and I sat down in a chair in front of his desk.

"I've noticed that your music grade has been slipping."

Uh-oh. That was what was wrong. Damn you, Buquet.

"Oh," I asked, looking at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you usually have an A in my class, but I've noticed that since we've gotten back from Paris, you haven't been participating in class activities, your reports on composers have widdled down to almost nothing and now, because of these issues, your grade, which was an A at the beginning of the semester is now down to a C Plus."

I looked at him, shocked.

"A C Plus? You've got to be joking."

"Well, I'm not. Sophia, this is really bothering me. You're the most productive student in the class. You're always there to answer my questions, you sing whenever I want you to, but now you're handing off the questions to the other students and the only time I hear you sing is during rehearsal or voice lessons. Sophia...what's going on?"

That was the question that I was longing to answer. I longed to tell him everything, everything that was going on with me and Buquet, about how I was letting him touch me in my darkest places, all because I was trying to save him and his job, but I didn't.

I took a breath and replied, "I'm sorry, Monsieur Destler. Forgive me. With it being my senior year and the leading role in the musical, I guess it's just a bit of stress, that's all."

He looked at me. It was as if his eyes were burning through my soul, as if he saw through my lie.

He sighed, then said, "Very well, but don't think you're getting off so easily. You may be my favorite of the class, but you're going to work hard between now and the musical to get this grade back up. From now on, I want to see you here every Saturday morning at nine o'clock --"

"Nine o'clock in the morning!? You can't be serious!"

"To have extra music lessons and you will do a five page report on one star of the Opera House in Paris that we visited each week."

"Monsier Destler! This isn't fair!"

He slammed his fist on his desk, standing up and coming over to me. He towered over me. I felt small and weak, just like Christine did the night she said goodbye...to her Phantom of the Opera.

"It's either this, Miss Day, or I fail you for the year and no report or song will be able to save you."

I shuddered as he held the paper up in front of me. I took it and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind me. As soon as I was away from his office door, I pressed my back against a wall, slouching down, starting to cry. A C Plus? I had to have been dreaming. This wasn't happening. I've never gotten a C Plus in anything before, even music, my favorite subject. What was happening to me? Drake and I were fighting, I'm practically failing in music, my favorite subject, I'm in a rough spot with my favorite teacher, and I had a pervert principal molesting me. This definitely wasn't the life that I wanted.

I felt another shoe kicking at mine. I wiped my eyes and looked up, seeing Drake.

"Are you all right," he asked, bending down, handing me a tissue, placing his hand on my leg as I blew my nose quietly.

"Yes. Please, can you just...take me home? I need to rest."

He nodded, helping me up off the floor and walking me to his car.

"Chrissy's starting rumors again," he said, holding my hand tightly.

"Please," I asked, getting into his car, "not a word about Chrissy, rehearsals, or anything. Okay?"

He nodded, getting in and starting the car, beginning to drive. I curled up into a ball in the seat, closing my eyes. The only thing I remember was Drake taking my hand and saying, "I love you."