Author's Note: I still do not own Phantom of the Opera, and only take credit for my original characters.
9
She had half expected it to be locked, but the door swung open without protest. Creeping reverently into the box, Kayla shut the door behind her and sat down, keeping out of sight of the stage. She set her bag onto the seat next to her and began to go through it. One by one, she took an inventory of the only possessions she had in this world. Her wallet, with her licence, credit cards, and Canadian and British currency, all of which were useless here; her agenda, timetable, and university transcripts, also useless; a small bag of cosmetics, including her personal set of costume makeup brushes; her sketchbook, drawing pencils, and a small watercolour set with brushes; and her iPhone and hot pink ear buds.
Hoping against hope, Kayla unlocked her phone and dialed her parent's home number. It did not even ring, and "no signal" flashed yellow across the screen. Kayla exited the phone app, disappointment churning in her stomach as it occurred to her that she might never get home. Her music, however, still worked, so Kayla popped in her ear buds and scrolled through the albums until she found the Phantom of the Opera soundtrack. She chose Think of Me, as she hadn't had a chance to listen during the performance of Hannibal.
As Emmy Rossum's voice filled her ears, Kayla returned her belongings to her purse. Using a small compact-mirror, she began to dab concealer onto her cheek, wincing at the pressure she was forced to apply to her bruises. She continued to apply the makeup until she was certain that the purple splotches were no longer visible. When that task was finished, she tucked the cosmetics back into her purse and exchanged them for her sketchbook.
Flipping through the creamy pages calmed her, making her feel like she was at home, working on her art. Pasted on the first couple of pages were photos – the Opera and Theatre Calgary backstage crews, her family at one of Samantha's band concerts, Kayla and Samantha at the Royal Albert Hall for the stage production of the Phantom of the Opera… Kayla smiled at the memories.
Then there was the actual artwork. Figure drawings galore, courtesy of her university courses, the rough drafts of her Advanced Placement concentration work from high school along with photos of the finished products, sketches of the stage and sets of the Opera Calgary, and a number of different portraits. A few more turns of the pages revealed her more recent project – illustrations of the Opera Populaire.
The first of the series was a watercolour of a rose, tinted ruby red, with a shiny black ribbon and ornate engagement ring adorning the stem. The next was a pencil drawing of Christine in the dress from Act Three, followed by Carlotta in her over the top Hannibal costume. A watercolour of Christine and Raoul trailed behind, along with a careful, full-page sketch of Erik smiling at his model of Il Muto. Quick charcoal and ink drawings of Firmin, Andre, Madame Giry, and the ballet filled the pages after. Kayla flipped through many more drawings until she reached her two most recent: a group shot of Gerard Butler, Emmy Rossum, and Patrick Wilson in their costumes, standing with Andrew Lloyd Webber in the lair set, and a painstakingly detailed colour pencil drawing of Erik without his mask, his perfect mouth turned up in an amused sort of grin. Kayla traced the outline of the Phantom's cheek with a light finger, smiling at the happy feeling the image gave her. Turning at last to a blank page, Kayla pulled a pencil out of her bag and began to sketch her view of the stage. She blocked out her surroundings completely as she drew, her world consisting solely of the distant stage, the book in her lap, and the soundtrack playing softly in her ears.
She was finished her sketch and wishing for water so she could paint when the light of the chandelier suddenly went out. Taking this as her cue to leave, Kayla gathered her things to her chest and rose, hurrying out of box five as the lights on the stages mysteriously blew out.
"The Mirror" 's quiet introduction trickled gently into her ears as she raced down the hallway and bounded down the stairs the led past the stage and dressing rooms. Once down there, she would be able to cross the stage and get to the stairs that led to the dormitories.
"Insolent boy, this slave of fashion
Basking in your glory!
Ignorant fool! This brave young suitor
Sharing in my triumph!"
Gerard Butler's deep baritone flowed intoxicatingly through her mind, the music echoing in her ears.
"Angel, I hear you; speak, I listen
Stay by my side, guide me!
Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me
Enter at last, Master!"
One of the ear buds fell out of Kayla's ears, yet the music remained perfectly clear. Goodness gracious, that's loud, Kayla thought, turning on her iPhone to adjust the volume. But the volume was exactly where she had left it – on one of the lower settings. Hold on, thought Kayla, her eyes widening. Hold on. Taking a quick glance around her, she realized that she was right outside the prima donna room. With a feeling of euphoria bubbling up in her chest, she slipped both buds out of her ears.
"Flattering child, you shall know me;
See why in shadow I hide!
Look at your face in the mirror;
I am there inside!"
Kayla clapped her hand over her mouth to hold back a squeal of delight and bent over to press her ear to the keyhole of the door. She had not been sure whether her experience in this world would be a musical, but apparently the Phantom's obsession with dramatic operatic entrances still stood. Holding her breath, she listened to Christine's feet padding over the soft carpet.
"Angel of Music, guide and guardian,
Grant me to your glory!
Angel of Music, hide no longer
Come to me, strange angel!"
The Phantom's deep voice softened, coaxing in a tranquil yet hypnotic tone.
"I am your Angel of Music!
Come to me, Angel of Music!"
Kayla heard the abrupt sound of boots striding confidently down the hall. Stifling a shriek, she fled, leaping backwards down the stairs and hiding in a small alcove on the stage. Peering cautiously around the corner, she saw Raoul rattling the door handle of the prima donna room, looking quite infuriated. "Whose is that voice?" he muttered, and then shouted, "Who's in there?"
Kayla's mind filled in the words that she could no longer hear.
"I am your Angel of Music, come to me, Angel of Music!"
In her mind's eye, she could see Christine stepping through the mirror, with the Phantom waiting with an outstretched hand.
Poor Raoul, whom, unlike Kayla, had no idea whatsoever the events unfolding in the dressing room, kept shouting for Christine and shaking at the door handle. He paused for a moment to listen, but, apparently hearing nothing, swore loudly in French. With another expletive, the Vicomte turned on his heel and stalked back the way he had come, probably to search for the keys. Meanwhile, Kayla took a deep breath to calm her racing heart and stole back to the dorms.
The debauchery was far from over when Kayla opened the dormitory door. All the dancers were still awake, with the exception of Meg, who was absent. Gritting her teeth with annoyance, Kayla shoved her way through the shrieking mass of bodies and opened her trunk. Inside were some new clothes: a plain, navy blue, buttoned-up and collared work shirt, an elegant looking grey blouse, a long and puffy black skirt, and a white long sleeve nightgown. To her dismay, there was also a corset. Reaching into her bag to retrieve her phone, she caught fabric beneath her fingers; a black sports bra and a warm black cardigan. Kayla was certain those two items had not been there before, but she recognized them as hers. As she had already achieved the impossible by getting herself stuck in a movieverse, she decided not to question this stroke of luck.
Yanking the nightgown over her head and over her body like a tent, Kayla proceeded to shimmy out of her clothes, a fairly advanced feat that she had developed to avoid the usual awkwardness that accompanied changing in public. She exchanged her bra for the magical sports bra, pulled on the cardigan, and folded the garments she had removed neatly and returned them to her trunk, which she locked once more.
Many of the girls around her were also in their nightgowns, with the exception of a couple who were so heavily made up and flashily dressed that they would not have been out of place in an old fashioned "gentleman's club". Kayla rolled her eyes and clambered into bed, returning the headphones to her ears and holding her phone tightly in her hands. Screwing her eyes shut, she silently bemoaned the brightness of the gas lights that illuminated the dormitory. She attempted to drown out the chatter with her music, but the shrieks continued to creep in. Resolved to the sleepless night ahead, Kayla flipped to the Music of the Night and tried to lose herself in the intoxicating melody that Christine would likely be experiencing quite soon.
Kayla had completed the Phantom of the Opera soundtrack and had been listening to the Lord of the Rings for approximately forty-five minutes when she registered that another voice had jointed the high-pitched squeals of the ballerinas.
"I know everything about the Opera Ghost," the voice was boasting to the oohs and ahs of the dancers. "I've seen him with my own eyes."
Kayla's blue eyes snapped open and her mind was overrun with a questionable string of four letter words.
Buquet. Buquet's in the dorm, her mind gibbered senselessly. What the hell was Buquet doing in the dorm? Find Giry, logic commanded. Find Giry. Kayla rolled out from under the quilt and dropped to the floor. She shoved her phone into her bra for safekeeping, and began to crawl between the rows of beds.
"Giudicelli may believe that it's been three years of mishaps," Buquet was saying. "But this place has been haunted for years and years longer than that. He's got the managers wrapped around his finger, he does – has for ages. But he can't scare me."
Kayla stifled a snort. Buquet's childish words would be proven invalid by this time tomorrow. She kept scootching around the cots, praying that Buquet would not see her and attempt to finish what he had started earlier that evening. But no one spared Kayla a glance, all too enraptured by Buquet's speech to notice.
At last, Kayla reached the door. Scrambling to her feet, she opened it and slipped out. Once in the hallway, she bolted. Her bare feet made not a sound on the carpeted floor as she raced towards the place where Kayla was pretty sure she would find the ballet mistress. And sure enough, as she bounded up the preceding set of stairs, there was Madame Giry, pulling Meg by her ear out of the prima donna room. The older woman looked surprised at seeing Kayla's rapid approach. "Kayla, what on earth is the matter?"
Kayla skidded to a stopped in front of the mother and daughter. "Buquet's in the dorm," she panted. "And I seem to be the only one who has a problem with it."
Madame Giry's eyes narrowed. Lips pursed grimly, she strode towards the dorms, with Meg and Kayla following close behind. "I don't believe I introduced myself," Kayla ventured in a whisper. "I'm Kayla."
The golden haired dancer flashed a warm smile. "I'm Meg," she responded cheerily. "I'm looking forward to getting to know you."
"Likewise," Kayla grinned. She was now on first name basis with two of the main protagonists; life was good.
By this time, they had reached the dormitory again. Madame Giry pushed the door open firmly, and allowed Meg and Kayla to slide into the room past her. The two girls carefully maneuvered their way to their beds, though no one else in the room noticed their appearance.
"A yellow parchment is his skin," Buquet described, a malicious spark lighting up his wild eyes. "A great black hole serves as the nose that never grew. You must be always on your guard," he warned, pointing his finger out over his audience. "Or he will catch you, with his magical lasso." Removing a length of rope from around his waist, he looped a coil around in a dancer in a lacy black and blue dress and pulled her towards him. The girl in question let out a pleased yelp as Buquet pretended to snap at her neck. It was then that Madame Giry decided to step in, yanking the girl away from the stage hand and directing the disappointed girl back to bed.
"Those who speak of what they know," she began angrily, her voice carrying to every corner of the room. Much to Kayla's delight, Madame Giry was singing. "Learn too late that prudent silence is wise." Stalking over to Buquet, Madame Giry stared him down. "Joseph Buquet, hold your tongue!" In one sharp movement, she smacked Buquet cleanly across the face. The stage hand had the decency to look shocked. "Keep your hand at the level of your eyes!" she hissed, tightening the noose around his neck. Unfortunately for Kayla, Buquet managed to grab the rope and prevent himself from being strangled.
Soon, Kayla thought with a dark smirk as she climbed back into bed, watching in satisfaction as Madame Giry forced Buquet from the room.
"To sleep now," Madame Giry barked. The girls closest to the edge of the room began to blow out the candles that lined the walls. "I expect everyone to be well prepared for a rehearsal tomorrow, and I will be accepting no excuses." Without another word, Madame Giry left, shutting the door firmly behind her. The other dancers immediately burst into chatter, but Kayla returned her ear buds to her ears and shut her eyes, drifting off to sleep as she was serenaded by the lilting compositions of Howard Shore.
Author's Note: Really I should be getting ready for Thanksgiving dinner and for all the relatives who shall descend upon my house this evening, but instead I have closeted myself away in my bedroom to post another chapter. Why, you may ask? To be honest, the only reason this chapter is up today instead of tomorrow is that I was highly motivated by all the reviews. So thank you to all those who reviewed, followed, and favourited, and thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read this far. Virtual cookies and pumpkin pie for you all! And for those of you in Canada, Happy Thanksgiving.
Thanks!
Tierney
Update: Apologies, but I was alerted to errors that existed in this chapter, and my little OCD perfectionist mind forced me to correct it.