A/N: Thanks so much for your wonderful reviews - keeps me motivated! :-) I'm posting early since I'll be out all day. Happy holidays, everyone!

Chapter 3

Christmas

I stayed away from Christine that morning, terrified to face her. She would find my gift, and it should be enough.

Morning passed, and all I could do was pace. I was not seriously thinking of taking my student up on her silly offer. The Phantom of the Opera did not dance or go to parties. The whole idea – it was preposterous!

Why then could I not stop obsessing over it?

The afternoon grew late, and after several failed attempts at composing, I gave up with a groan. I found myself pacing the bedroom and picking out a few suits and masks which would fit the occasion.

'This is only out of amusement,' I told myself. 'I won't appear. Of course, I won't.'

A half hour later, I had decided upon my outfit and laid it upon my bed. Christine's colors were red and black. Mine were black and gold. The red suit was out of question – it was hardly suitable for the role of Christine's angel. The golden mask, though, was the one that I had worn as a magician. Its style was far more dramatic than my customary white mask.

Another wave of restlessness overtook me, and I wondered whether Christine would wear the necklace I had left her as this year's Christmas present. If so, she would have taken my present with her. Unable to restrain my curiosity, I crept upstairs to check into her room.

To my surprise, my student was sitting upon her bed, clutching the necklace I had given to her for Christmas. I noticed that her eyes were puffy, and it looked as though she had been crying.

'She is supposed to be at the De Chagny's,' I thought. 'What the hell is she doing here?'

There was a knock on the door, and I heard the boy calling out to her.

"I told you I'll arrive later!" Christine called, annoyed.

"I won't leave until you open the door!" Raoul shouted back.

"I'm waiting for someone," she replied stubbornly. "I realize I had forgotten to tell him the address."

I gave an inward, frustrated sigh. Didn't she realize that her angel could figure out something as inconsequential as the De Chagny's address...if he had truly wanted to come?

"Him?" Raoul asked, and I could hear the suspicion in his voice. "Who is this person?"

"He's a...a relative of mine," she fibbed.

I bit back a scoff. Christine had always been a terrible liar. And what an obvious lie!

"Christine, you have no relatives," Raoul pointed out. "We're your family."

"Okay, fine," Christine admitted. "He's my teacher. But he's also like family to me."

"Your teacher?" Raoul asked, incredulous. "He's coming!? But—"

"The invitation said we could bring a guest," Christine interrupted.

There was a silence from the other side of the door. I listened on in confusion. Why had the boy reacted so strongly against me? It wasn't as though he knew who I was.

For a moment, I wondered if Raoul had left. But then, the boy spoke.

"Will you open the door?" Raoul pled. "We should talk about this. You can't just invite anyone. My…my parents haven't even met him!"

So, that was what bothered the boy? I rolled my eyes.

"He's not anyone," Christine corrected. "He's my teacher."

"How do you know he's even coming?" Raoul challenged.

"He has to come," my student insisted.

Raoul pounded on the door in frustration. "Everyone's waiting for you! Do you really think my parents would start dinner without you?"

"I'll try to make the dance," my student repeated, refusing to budge. "You can tell them to eat without me."

There was a silence, then – "Christine, open the damned door!" This time, he attacked the door with renewed determination.

"Go away!"

"Why are you being so unreasonable?" he yelled.

"You'll just try kissing me again!" she shouted over his hammering. "Then, you'll drag me to the carriage!"

The racket at the door ceased. "Don't you like my kisses?"

She flushed. "I guess they were nice."

"Nice?" Raoul repeated. "Nice?"

Christine did not respond, only continued to play with the necklace.

"Fine then!" he huffed. "Be alone on Christmas for all I care!"

I heard him stomp noisily down the hall.

After he left, Christine sniffed and wiped her eyes, looking even more miserable than before.

I hesitated, then called out to her, "Why didn't you go with him?"

"Angel?" Her eyes brightened, and she looked around the room. "I thought you'd left! I called for you all morning and afternoon, but you didn't answer." After a moment, she added, "Don't you have to be in heaven?"

"Christine, you need to stop this childish dependence upon me," I sighed. "I am only your teacher, my dear."

She blushed, then fiddled with her fingers. "Will you come to me again? As you did last night?"

"No," I flatly refused.

To my horror, Christine burst into tears.

I watched, agitated, and completely at a loss as to what to do. I could not understand these girlish emotions. They simply did not make sense. In fact, what I missed about the early years of our arrangement was that everything had been so simple. I told Christine what to do, and she obeyed. That was all. She very rarely asked questions. Nor had it been usual for her to give into emotional displays. Yet here she was, clearly upset.

The girl was going to be the death of me. For once, I was trying to be good in my pathetic life, and she was tempting me to be even more depraved than I already was.

"You shouldn't have refused dinner tonight, my dear," I stated awkwardly. "It will do you no good to starve."

She gave another pitiful sniff, blowing her nose into a handkerchief.

I gave an uncomfortable cough, then continued lamely, "Well…you really ought to find something to eat. Why don't you prepare yourself to go out in an hour?"

Her eyes lifted, and she whispered, "You mean, you will be taking me out?"

"I mean, you should find yourself something to eat," I clarified quickly. "If you do not go to the De Chagny's, then you ought to treat yourself somewhere else. Of course, I shall be watching over you, as always."

"You mean, you won't need to sing in heaven today? Don't you always sing on Christmas?"

I floundered for a response. "I can watch you from above, my dear. Wherever you go, I shall be watching you."

"Okay," she hiccuped, getting up from the bed.

"I shall return in an hour," I told her, satisfied she finally had stopped crying.