Phantom of the Opera 1. Chapter 1: The Summer Begins

My Promise to the Reader

The Phantom of the Opera is one of the reasons I became a writer. It was in sixth grade when my mother took me to see the 2004 Andrew Lloyd Webber movie, that I was first introduced to classical and theatrical art. This, my career as a novelist, is where it all began—with a single screening of the film. I fell in love with the characters, music, and the idea of theater and imagination.

All right, so if you haven't seen the movie, here's the plot. A man, called the Phantom, is a disfigured musical genius who loves trapdoors and lives in secret underneath the Paris Opera House. He wears a half mask and spends his time composing music and basically helping the managers run the theater through 'persuasive' letters. A young orphaned ballet dancer, named Christine Daae, comes to live in said theater. Well lo and behold, the girl can sing, but she needs training. One day the Phantom hears her voice, falls in love with her, and offers her the coaching she needs. Of course, she accepts. Later, during one of her performances, an old childhood friend of hers named Raoul sees Christine and falls head over heels for her. Yet the Phantom finds this out, and becomes insane with jealousy. After a few deaths, a tragic fire, and a kidnapping, Christine and Raoul find themselves in the Phantom's lair. Raoul though is tied up and has a noose around his neck, which the Phantom has complete control of. So Christine must make a choice: it's either she stays with the Phantom forever and he frees Raoul, or the Phantom kills Raoul in return for her freedom. In the end the Phantom has a change of heart after Christine kisses him (actually, makes out with him is more accurate), and he decides to let both of them go. Just as the police are running down into his lair to arrest him for the crimes he has committed, he disappears through one of his trapdoors, never to be seen from again.

So everything about this movie is great in my opinion. From the acting to the music, it all fit well like an intricate puzzle, and all the aspects of the show were brilliantly executed. Anyway, you might be asking, what does any of this have to do with my writing? Well, here it is: I loathed the ending.

I mean, really now? Christine goes off with the boring fop (who I thought was a complete tool anyway) and the Phantom is never, ever mentioned again… like ever. First off, why should the boring fop, who most believe is more girly than manly, get the woman? And second off, the Phantom would never have let that go. He would do something to settle the score, or win Christine back. Of course, it also irked me that Christine chose the guy who had the pretty face but was shallow, and not the man who may have had imperfections, but would've laid down himself and given the best life for her possible. That doesn't settle well with me.

So the point is, I wanted to change the ending. I started writing spin offs of The Phantom of the Opera, bad spin offs I'll admit, but doing those stories helped me grow as a writer. Those ideas were practice, and practice makes perfect. The Phantom of the Opera and theater in general were always my first loves, and that's what made me the writer I am today.

Recently I went back through my notebooks filled with Phantom spin offs, and a great need to pay homage to those ideas overtook me. It was then that I decided I was going to write a modern day version of The Phantom of the Opera. Yes, I know it's been done before, but reading the original book again and doing research has made me realize we have moved far away from what Gaston Leroux (the one who wrote the actual novel in 1911) had in mind. In the original book, the appearances of the characters are completely different from what we have now. Christine, for example, does not have curly brown hair and hazel eyes, which is portrayed in almost all the Phantom movies. In fact, she was blonde and had blue eyes. Meg Giry, her best friend, is casted as the blonde one nowadays when in fact, she wasn't. Her description in the novel is a young girl with black hair, dark eyes, and pale with a skinny frame. The only one we have kept the same is Raoul, who is described as feminine and having a "woman's complexion". Yep, that's Raoul if I ever heard him described.

So, I have made it my mission to go back to the original, and stick to it description wise as much as possible. Of course, the storyline must be different to make a good novel, so expect that to change. But I promise that the realism and relevancy that Leroux wrote in his original story will remain in my own, with a new and fresh face. The story will take place in present day Florida, to help accommodate the need for many locations, and the characters will be present day too.

Pretty much what I'm saying here is: don't expect the usual Phantom that the 21st century has made. Expect the descriptions and ideas that Leroux had, mixed with my artistic liberties. This will be a retelling filled with ipods, music from the past century, slang, and teenagers of today. Just trust me when I say that I'm writing this for you, and for the people who have been involved with The Phantom of the Opera over the years as it's changed. And, let's face it, anything that I write for you, the reader, I promise I'll make it good and entertaining… just like Andrew Lloyd Webber did for me when he first introduced me to a singer named Christine, and a handsome and mysterious man called the Phantom.

Enjoy.

~Diana

July 16, 2010

Chapter One: The Summer Begins

I left the Gardens Theater, shaking like a leaf. There, I had done it like everyone had told me to. I applied for the position of costume mistress at the theater for the summer. My best friend, Maggie Gardens, was right next to me and both of us were walking home. I guess I had one thing going for me: her mother owned the theater, and had conducted the interview I had just been in.

We crossed the street away from the building, which took up an entire block. The theater had been built in the 1920s, and was kept in great condition thanks to constant restoration. The stone walls and carved figures on it were un-cracked, like it had been built yesterday, and the large, wooden French doors were polished every morning before the theater day began. I glanced back at it, it taunting me with that same question I had thought about since I came here about two hours ago: did I get the job?

I had done everything right, I guess. I filled out the application two weeks ago before school got out, was offered an interview, bought a black dress to wear for it, and had been polite, professional, and honest when talking with Mrs. Gardens. I sighed, and finally pulled my blonde hair out its ponytail. I shook my hair about, and let it stay where it fell.

Suddenly Maggie, who was wearing pink sweat bottoms over her black leotard, spoke.

"You're going to get the job. You do realize this, right?" She asked me, her black hair flying back as she turned to look at me.

"No, I don't realize this." I stated, "Look, the only reason the job is available is because Tina left to study abroad for the summer. She'll be back in August."

"Well, maybe after Mom sees your work, she'll fire her and hire you." I had to stop myself from laughing. Tina Harrison was the best costume mistress I had ever seen in my life. She could sew and stitch up pretty much anything… and was a great designer. Sure, I had done costumes in my high school, but that's not a huge feat. Our theater department only consisted of twenty kids, in a high school of five hundred students, and we only did two shows a year. That's not a big deal to me, since in comparison, Tina worked costumes at the Gardens Theater for seven shows a year with a cast size up to seventy-five people. So do you understand why I'm not making a huge deal about me doing my shows at our rinky-dink high school in Belleview, Florida?

Okay, don't get me wrong; I'm not trying to bash theater. I love the theater. I've been playing minor roles in our school district since I was in fourth grade, and working in the costume department since eighth. I love pulling out outfits that fit the character's personality, and designing my own costumes. I worked with Tina when I was a freshman, and she was a senior. Everything I learned about costumes, I learned from her. She's a novice and a veteran in that area, and compared to her, I'm a rookie.

"Mags," I said, trying to change the subject, "I forgot to ask, how did the audition for _Swan Lake_ go?"

"Oh, right! I forgot to tell you—I got the part as the princess!" She cried.

"That's great Maggie! Congratulations!" I wasn't surprised. Amy Gardens, Maggie's mother and owner of the theater (like I mentioned earlier), had been a famous ballerina in her day. She traveled all over the world because she was actually invited to perform with other troupes. But at the age of twenty-nine she retired and got married to Nathan Gardens, her high school sweet heart and what we call our neighborhood rich guy. He owned a lot of businesses in town, had a farm that produced most of the oranges used in orange juice, and the Gardens Theater had been in his family for generations. When he married Mrs. Gardens, she simply took over managing it, and she made sure that as soon as Mags showed an interest in ballet, that she got the best training available.

And on top of that, Maggie had the perfect physique for it. She didn't have an ounce of fat on her body, which was amazing because she ate and cooked all the time, and her arms and legs were powerful, but tiny. On her stomach she had a slight six-pack going, and her back was straight as an arrow. When I was younger, I was jealous of her at times. She was so naturally pretty. Her eyes were about as dark as her hair was, and her skin didn't have one pimple or flaw. It helped that she worked out and only drank water, milk, and tea, but it was ridiculous anyway. I used to be stunned that this girl was only sixteen, yet looked like she was nineteen.

Still, she's very talented and I knew that with her looks and ability, she could make it anywhere.

"Do you think you'll go out of the country to dance, like your mom did?" I asked.

"You know, I really don't want to." She admitted, "In fact, Mom wants me to stay here anyway, and wait till I'm eighteen until I travel. You know, finish high school and stuff. Besides, traveling around the state during the year to perform is enough for me. I just want to do ballet here, around my family, and then take over the theater like my mom does now."

"Eh, I always said you'd make a better actor than a dancer in the first place." I teased, "You should try out for more roles."

"I'll try out for more roles when you try out for more musicals."

Oh no. I thought. She's bringing up this argument… again.

"Mags, no. I used to try out all the time, but I never got in. You know Candice is better than me."

She groaned, hearing the leading lady's name. And I felt for her. If you knew Candice Williams, yow would groan too. She had been acting since age four, and grew up with everyone around her spoiling and pampering her like a freaking poodle. Now, I'll admit, she didn't get on stage using nothing. She had the look, the ability, and the 'stage voice' to do what she could do. Now, her singing voice may not of sounded good, but it sold seats at the theater, which is the only reason Mrs. Gardens had put up with her for so long.

Her main problem is, her attitude towards everyone absolutely sucked. She treated her cast members like crap, the stagehands like crap… everyone was treated like crap come to think of it. I can't think of the number of times she has yelled at me while she was doing high school theater, because she detested the costume I put her in. I just had to learn to ignore it, and let the director calm her down. The next day she would be completely over it, and ticked off about a new thing. That was typical for working with Ms. Prima-Donna-stage-whore.

"You think Ms. Diva is better than you?" Mags said, "Girl, she has nothing on you. You just need more experience and training. My mom even said that you could be better if you had the right help. She said you have the IT factor naturally, and the pretty voice you have is there… you just need training. Candice needed training to make her voice sound, what's a good word, listenable. You only need it as a touchup!"

"Your mother is also insanely nice, just like your dad, and she has always adored me."

"Well, you are like my older sister."

"Yeah, who looks like the younger one when I stand next to you!"

She laughed. "Touché. At least you'll be eighteen in a few months, an adult. I just turned sixteen and am finally driving on a full license. Looks mean nothing when it comes to age. But our ages and my looks aren't the point. The point is, you have talent Chris. You are extremely awesome when it comes to costumes and all, but you really should be on stage. Candice does it for the fame, but you do it because you_ can _do it… and for the love of the art."

"And you've been talking with your mother too much." I said, ruffling her hair on her head like I used to do when she was shorter than me. "But I'll think about it, all right?"

"Yay!" She said, clapping her hands, "Now, how about you come over to my house? My parents would love it if you stayed for dinner."

"Eh, I don't know. I've been there four times this week for dinner, and I think your family is getting sick of me."

"Well they insist that since your dad is traveling this summer for his business, and you're on your own, that you come over and eat with us whenever you can. Besides, you have two and a half months left to be alone. I think you can spare some time for us."

I put my hands up. "All right, fine! I'll come over. But tomorrow the answer will be no."

"Of course it will be Chris… not!"

I looked down, trying to hide a smile. Yeah, she was probably right about that.

We walked a few more blocks and finally made it to Maggie's place. It was a plantation style home with a white exterior, ginger bread shingles, and a wrap around porch. The house was about three stories with four bedrooms (two of them being guest suites), a dining room, kitchen, three bathrooms, office, library, living room, and dance studio. The whole place was decorated in what I like to call, Modern Victorian, with older pieces being tied in with modern style.

We walked up the small set of stairs to the porch, and then entered with the _bang!_ of the screen door. The first thing that you saw going into the house was a narrow hallway, with wooden floors and a long black carpet over it. On one side of the hallway there was a door that lead into the kitchen, filled with cupboards overhead attached to the wall, cabinets down below the granite countertops, and stainless steel appliances. We could hear Mr. Gardens singing loudly to Frank Sinatra's _Come Fly With Me_, from there, and that usually meant he was cooking something. Happy with our good timing, we took off our shoes at the front of the door, and then walked into the kitchen.

And sure enough, there was Mr. Gardens, cutting up oranges on the counter/island bar and singing away. When I was younger I had a crush on Mr. Gardens, but now he was more like an uncle to me. He's very handsome with a full head of dark hair shot with gray, and green eyes. He was tanned by his work in the orange fields (he drove there three times a week to help out), and due to that he also was in great shape for a man going on fifty. He had many abilities, but his two main talents were business and cooking. That's where Mags inherited her love of the culinary arts.

A few seconds later he looked up from his cutting board, and seeing us, gave a large smile. He put down the knife to come around the counter to greet us. That's one of the things I adored about Mr. Gardens, he always dropped what he was doing to say hi to both of us when we came in the door.

"Maggie!" He cried, picking her up in a bear hug, "How is my girl?"

She squealed in delight. "Great! I got the role as the princess! We started rehearsal today!"

"Good for you! Mom must be proud."

"She is. She came down from the office to bring me some water during practice, and she was grinning ear to ear."

He set her down, and then turned to me. "And now… it's your turn Chris!"

"Oh no Mr. Gardens!" I said overdramatically, "I will NOT be held in your clutches!"

But I let him reach over and pick me up in a hug, laughing like Maggie did only seconds ago. It was nice that in a day where everything was changing and kids grew up, the large bear hugs were still there.

"Are you girls hungry?" He asked, walking back over to the cutting board, "I'm making smoothies right now."

"That sounds great." I commented.

"Thanks Dad." Maggie said, as we climbed on the wooden stools at the island bar to talk to him while he worked.

"So, Chris," Mr. Gardens began, "did you get the job?"

"I don't know." I replied, "The interview went well and all, but you know Mrs. Gardens has to make a decision based on her professional opinion and what's in the theater's best interest."  
>"This is true." He admitted, "But you know what?"<p>

"What?"  
>"You are also really good at costuming, and it doesn't matter if you're a friend of the family's or not."<p>

"Ah, Chris just needs to stop worrying." My friend sighed, "We know she'll get the job."

"And you can always use singing and acting as a fall back." He said, now cutting up a pile of strawberries.

"LORD." I groaned, "What is up with this family trying to get me to audition for singing parts again?"  
>"I don't know. Maybe, it's the fact that you're good at it." Maggie pointed out.<p>

"Or the fact that it drives Amy crazy that you don't get training or audition, I hear about it, and all I want is the best for my daughter's best friend." He added.

"All right! I promised Mags earlier I'd think about it. May we please drop the subject now?"

"Only if you will sing _As Time Goes By_ for me and Amy later. She loves that song." Mr. Gardens said.

"I will if you promise to play it with me on the piano." I bargained.

"Little lady, you got yourself a done deal."

After awhile each of us was sitting around the bar with our strawberry, orange, and banana smoothies, all of them in tall, neon colored glasses.

"This tastes great, Mr. Gardens." I complimented, "I sure needed it after my interview."

"So did I." Maggie agreed, "I was rehearsing for five hours today."

Mr. Gardens shook his head. "I'll never figure out how you and your mom do it, Mags."

"It's because we're magic!" Mrs. Garden said from the hallway.

We turned to the door just to see her come in. She was wearing the same outfit I saw her in earlier for my interview: jeans and a black turtleneck. Whenever I saw her, she looked so poised and elegant to me. She reminded me of a queen or a noblewoman, but she was way more relaxed and humble than that. Her black hair was pulled back in a tight braid, a hairdo she has been doing since her days as a ballerina, and she was wearing, what else, but black ballet flats.

Her brown eyes lit up seeing Mr. Gardens, and she walked over to set her purse down and plant a kiss on his cheek.

"Hello darling." He said, giving her a hug, "how was work today?"

"Oh, it was fine. I just feel lucky that I got home before dinner tonight. One of the girls cancelled her interview for this evening."

_Yes!_ I said softly to myself. _That's one less person to compete with._

"Well that's good for us." He said, "We like having you here."  
>"I like being here." She then turned to look at me. "So, how are you girls doing?"<p>

"Great." We both chimed.

"I would guess so," She said, "With Maggie getting her role and you at last having the interview over with. Are you staying for dinner, by the way?"

"Yeah, I am. I was actually wondering what we're having."

"How about I grill us some steak?" Mr. Gardens suggested, "The night is still young enough, and if the girls could whip us up a salad, we'd be eating in the next hour."

"Hey, sounds good to me." Maggie said, getting off the barstool to put her glass in the dishwasher.

"Me too." I said, following her, "Steak sounds awesome after a long day of working."

Two hours later we were in the dining room, and our meal had just ended. We were sitting at the circular table, where I had eaten countless meals over the years, and on the right side of the room was a cabinet full of china plates, silver utensils, and other finery. Those things were used for special occasions, of course. Tonight we were dining upon simple brown plates and using regular forks and knives.

We had started to clear the table, and it was then I looked at the nearby clock and realized it was getting late.

"Hey everyone, I better be getting home." I said, picking up my plate to bring it into the kitchen, "I need to get going while it's still light outside."

"Well, could you sing _As Time Goes By_ for us before you leave?" Mr. Gardens asked, "We did have a deal after all."

"Oh, she was going to sing for us?" Mrs. Gardens said, "That would be wonderful, Chris! We'll take care of the dinner mess later, but if you could just sing that one song before you go…"  
>"But I was going to help you clean up…"<br>"Don't worry about it, we'll take care of it later. That song is payment enough."

"Well, all right."

We moved into the next room, the living room. It was pretty big, about the size of my own bedroom and living room combined. It had a large LCD screen TV against the far back wall, along with a DVD, Bluray player, and an old VCR. A coffee table sat in the center of the room, and a couch and an angled love seat was on the right hand side, along with a large cabinet full of board games. A game table (that changed from air hockey, to pool, to table soccer) was on the left side in the back corner where we entered. But my favorite thing they had was a large grand piano that was underneath a single light around the left hand wall. I had always said that room was made for entertaining, but all the fine things they owned in there could never match how much fun we've had on that piano.

Mrs. Gardens and Maggie took a seat on the couch, while Mr. Gardens made himself comfortable on the piano bench. I stood next to it, placing my hand on the shining surface, and when he was ready, he turned to me.

"You got this, sport?" He said.

"You know I always do Mr. Gardens." I replied.

With that, he began playing, and I sang and performed with the music:

"_You must remember this _

_A kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh_

_The fundamental things apply _

_As time goes by_

_And when two lovers woo _

_They still say, I love you _

_On that you can rely _

_No matter what the future brings _

_As time goes by"_

It was at this point I stepped forward and began to use my hands, putting them against my chest or moving them to tell the story:

"_Moonlight and love songs _

_Never out of date. _

_Hearts full of passion _

_Jealousy and hate_

_Woman needs man _

_And man must have his mate _

_That no one can deny"_

I walked to the side of the piano, put my hands on it, and sang dreamily:

"_It's still the same old story _

_A fight for love and glory _

_A case of do or die_

_The world will always welcome lovers _

_As time goes by_

_Oh yes, the world will always welcome lovers _

_As time goes by"_

Mr. Gardens smiled at me, and finished the piece, adding a few jazzy notes in to impress all of us. When we were done Mrs. Gardens and Maggie stood up clapping. Mr. Gardens did too, and both of us bowed dramatically.

"Thank you," I said, "Thank you. I'll be here every night this week."

"We hope so." Mrs. Gardens said.

I smiled, and looked at the clock. "I'm sorry everyone, I really do need to get going before it gets dark."

"That's all right, Chris." Mr. Gardens reassured, "But just to let you know, if you want to stay here anytime this summer, you're welcome to. It can get lonely in a house by yourself."

"Eh, I don't mind it," I said, heading toward the hallway, "I've always been alone anyway, since Dad works on his business all the time."

"Well, I still don't think you should be alone for the summer." Mrs. Gardens said, "But I know you can handle it. If you need anything though, you come to us."

I stopped at the doorway and turned to her. "Thank you." I said, "You guys have a good night."

"You have a good night too, Chris." Maggie said.

I walked into the hall, and down to the doormat where my ballet flats were. As I slipped them on, Mrs. Gardens called to me from the kitchen.

"Oh, and Chris?"

"Yes?" I said loudly.

"Congratulations, you got the job. I expect to see you at the theater at ten o'clock tomorrow morning!"

I could feel a smile spread on my face, and silently, I pumped a fist into the air.

"Thank you, Mrs. Gardens!" I cried, "I'll be there early."

"All right, Chris. Take care."

"You too, Mrs. Gardens."

With that I walked out the door and onto the sidewalk, as calm cool as a cucumber. But as soon as I was a block away from their house, I spun around on the nearest light pole Gene Kelly style, and began to sing all the way home:

"_I'm singin' in the rain_

_I'm singin' in the rain_

_What a glorious feelin'_

_I'm happy again…"_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Ghosting

I have never minded being home alone. I started being alone over night as young as nine, so it wasn't ever a problem for me to clean up the house and make my own dinner. When I was younger other parents would worry about their kids burning down the place or throwing wild parties, but Dad never did with me. First off, I wasn't a stupid kid. I knew what I could and couldn't do properly, so I never was a big safety risk. And second off, I don't have many close friends to throw wild parties with. Plus the idea never really agreed with me.

Don't get me wrong, I do have friends, and I wasn't unpopular in school. People were very nice to me, and I've been out with a few guys. I've never had a boyfriend, per se, but that's more my fault than theirs. Theater and honors classes took up a lot of my time during the year, so I literally couldn't fit it into my schedule to have a boyfriend.

Anyway, no, I've never minded being alone. That's why when Dad told me he was going over seas during the summer for business, I opted to stay home and house sit. He's in the middle of trying to get his company to go international, so he's talking with people across Europe to get something set up. He has a business called Davis Strings, which is an instrument company that distributes things like violins, guitars, harps, and cellos. In his day, Dad was a very famous violin player (Christopher Davis, you might've heard of him). He even toured with Joshua Bell and Yo-Yo Ma.

I don't know exactly what made him stop playing in public, but I know he stopped right around the time him and my mom got married. Things were great for a while, but when I was two-years-old, she ran out on us. We haven't heard anything from her since. She hasn't written, hasn't called, and I've never gotten a birthday card from her. I don't know the exact reason why she left, but I heard from other people that she was seeing someone else. Maybe that's the truth, maybe it isn't. I don't know. And since I hardly ever see my dad, maybe I'll never know.

Before going to bed that night, I walked around the house to make sure everything was tidy. It was something I always did when I knew Dad wasn't going to be home. Even though we made a comfortable living, we lived in a pretty modest house. It has only one floor, with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, a living room, and an office.

After checking each area, I went back to my bedroom. I had designed it myself, and was proud of it (after seeing my room once, Mrs. Gardens swore with practice I could design stage sets). The walls were a sky blue with white trimming, and I had fish like netting hanging off the wall. The dresser was sand blasted wood painted white, to give it a vintage weathered look, and I had a desk and night stand to match it. I had a small closet that fit all my dresses, suits, nice shirts, and shoes. The floors were polished wood, and on the walls I had hung oceanic pictures in nice frames. Most of the photos I had either taken myself or gotten off the Internet.

I turned off the light in my room, and collapsed on my bed, with its turquoise and white plush covers. I reached over to my night stand to set my alarm clock for seven thirty, and then shut off the small lamp on there. Cuddling up in my red pajamas, I snuggled into bed, and after a few minutes, fell asleep.

The next morning I rolled out of bed, thanks to the beeping of my alarm clock. After hitting the thing to make it shut off, I rubbed my eyes, and walked into the bathroom to splash some water on my face. I used to have to cleanse it every morning, but my hormones had finally chilled out, and I now had clear skin. This was my very first summer since sixth grade that I enjoyed a zit-free face.

After using the bathroom, I walked into the kitchen and started the coffee machine up. While I waited on that, I made my way back to my room and pulled out an outfit for my first day as costume mistress. The dress at our theater is pretty relaxed; so I picked out jeans with a low cut blue shirt and black cami underneath. Along with that I wore a long necklace with white beads and matching earrings.

Ten minutes passed, and finally my coffee was done. After adding some cream and sugar, I grabbed the Special K chocolate cereal in the cabinet, found a bowl and milk, and began to enjoy breakfast. So far, my morning was going great.

After eating I quickly did my makeup (nothing too big, just blue eye shadow to match my eyes, mascara, and light foundation) and pulled my hair back in a ponytail. It was eight twenty by then, so I put on my black tennis shoes and grabbed my purse and cell. As I left the house, I locked the front door behind me, and then began to walk to the theater.

I'm a big fan of walking to places, honestly. I do have a car, but if I don't have to use gas and spend money, then I won't. And it's always so nice in Florida. Why spend a nice day driving five minutes to somewhere, when you can walk and enjoy the sun?

As I came up to the first crosswalk in town, I saw Maggie at the corner waiting for the light to change. She was wearing jean capris over a red leotard, with flip-flops. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and she was wearing silver studs in her ears. Her pink ballet/gym bag was thrown over her shoulder, and in her right hands she held a water bottle.

"Maggie, hold up!" I yelled, running toward her as the light changed.

She turned around to see me and waved. When I made it to her we both bolted across the street just as the crosswalk signaled the cars to start moving.

"Close call." She said, "Glad I left the house early so I could catch you. Excited for your new job?"

"Yeah," I answered, "Excited for your new role?"

"You bet! We're working in the dance studio today, to learn the rest of the choreography."  
>"Sounds like fun."<p>

"Well, if it's not fun, it'll at least be interesting. I think Richard's stage managing this one."

"Richard? He's back in town?"  
>"Yeah, he's staying with his grandparents for the summer."<p>

"Wow… I haven't seen him in forever."

Richard Cromwell was an old friend of mine that I had known since elementary school. We had both been theater nerds, and had worked in a few productions together. Two years ago his parents had moved and he began going to a private school in Orlando. We had tried to stay in contact, but we both got busy with our separate lives, and I hadn't heard from him in over a year.

But guess who I saw next to the large doors as we were approaching the theater?

"Oh my God, Mags." I said, turning to her, "It's Rich!"

She put a hand over her eyes to block out the sun, so she could get a better look at him. He hadn't changed at all the last time I saw him. The first thing you have to understand about Richard is that he was always one of the 'pretty boys'. He had light brown hair, blue eyes, and that sun kissed, clear skin that made you wonder if he was a back up dancer for the Backstreet Boys. He was wearing jeans, tennis shoes, and a red t-shirt that said, "If my music is too loud then you're too old". Yeah… that was Richard for you.

My stomach flipped seeing him. It had been so long, I wondered if he recognized me.

"Let's not say anything." Maggie suggested, as though she could read my mind, "Let's see if he notices us."

"Good idea." I said.

We walked up to him, as he leaned against the door to look out at the street, and it was then his gaze turned to us. It took a few moments for him to recognize who we were, but once he did, his eyes lit up.

"Holy crap! Chris, Mags, is that you?" He said, turning around to us.

"Well are you Richard Cromwell?" I asked.

"CHRIS!"

We both leapt at each other with a massive hug, and then next he embraced Maggie.

"Oh my God, I'm so happy to see you guys!" He cried, "This is awesome! How you been doing?"  
>"Great. I just got the leading part in <em>Swan Lake<em>." Maggie said.

"Congrats. I'm going to be the stage manger for that. What about you, Chris?"  
>"Well—guess who's now the costume mistress here?"<p>

"Shut up. Really?"  
>"Yeah!"<p>

"Sweet! You were always so good with costuming. Better than the chick we have at my private school… oh, and I should tell you guys, guess who's going to be here all summer?"

"You're staying for the whole summer!" Mags yelled.

"Sure am! My parents were okay with it, and my grandparents wanted to keep me, so that's the deal we worked out. And the best part is, we get to hang out again."

"That is pretty sweet." I admitted, "Maybe we could all get lunch during the break."

"Huh, that sounds good to me." He offered his arm out to both of us. "Shall we, ladies?"

"Oh Rich," I sighed, as we each took one arm, "you were always such ladies man."

"Anything for the girl with the red coat."

I blushed hearing my old nickname, and remembering what he was talking about.

I was in fifth grade when it happened. It was in late November, and kind of chilly that day. I had brought a red cardigan with me as Maggie, Rich, and I went down to the boardwalk to grab some cold cocoa at _Whipple's Ice Palace_. Cold cocoa is a play off of hot chocolate and is made with whipped cream, a chocolate drink mix, and vanilla ice cream. It's pretty much Belleview's one novelty. It was a tradition that we got one once a week during the winter months, since it was only available during the holiday season. But before I went inside the shop that day, I took off my cardigan, just as the wind picked up. Literally, it blew my sweater out of my hand and it went over the railing into the sea.

We ran down to the shore to see if we could reach it with a piece of driftwood, but the waves had grown stronger with the wind so we couldn't. I was about to cry, and while Maggie was comforting me, Richard suddenly took off his shirt and dove into the water. It took him about five minutes to fight the waves, but sure enough, he managed to reach my cardigan and he swam back towards the shore. A group of people had gathered around us by now, and a mother there asked his number so she could call his mom to come get us. While we were waiting for Mrs. Cromwell to pick us up, a man had asked Richard, "Son, why would you try something crazy like that?" And Richard had turned to me and answered, "Well, anything for the girl with the red coat." And so, that's how I got my nickname/phrase from him.

But the laughing and reminiscing stopped as soon as we entered the lobby of the theater. Candice just happened to be there that day, to take care of a few things she left in her locker in one of the dressing rooms, and we could hear her squealing from on stage.

"Do not tell me that broad is still acting." Richard moaned.

"Okay, I won't tell you then." Maggie said.

"Good God, you have got to be kidding me…"

"Well, sad to say, she isn't." I sighed, "And by the sound of it, something absolutely terrible has happened to her for the fifth time this week that'll devastate her life."

"Oh trust me Chris, I know that." Richard said, "I haven't been away from this theater long to recover from…" At that moment another wail left the stage area, so we unlinked our arms to run back and see what was going on.

On stage we could see Candice moving back and forth across the stage like a maniac. It was hard not to see her, actually. She had red hair, green eyes, and was very tan. Her makeup was always over done, and every day she dressed up like she was going out clubbing or to a party. Today one could see it was clubbing, with an over the top sparkling pink tank, black jeans, and heels.

Standing about ten feet away form her were about ten of the ballet girls watching her, all of them seeming to have just arrived since they still had their bags with them. Mrs. Gardens was on stage, chasing Candice and trying to figure out what was wrong. We made our way to the stage's side stairs and climbed up them to get a piece of the action.

"I can't believe it!" Candice yelled, her high-pitched voice almost making me deaf, "I can't believe it happened!"

"What happened, Candice?" Mrs. Gardens asked.

"Why should I tell you, you never do anything about it! Props go missing, music goes missing, really important… stuff happens and you never do anything!"

"Well Ms. Williams, I can't do anything if you don't tell me what's going on."

"But you don't care, you never care!"

I was about to pull my hair out and punch her, but Mrs. Gardens upped her game.

"CANDICE! Calm yourself right now or I'll never let you wear that blue ball gown you love so much on stage ever again! EVER!"

She sniffed over dramatically. "All right, fine! Let me sit down for a moment."

She sat on the edge of the stage, and everyone sat down with her. Mrs. Gardens turned to the group, and said, "Don't you girls have rehearsal?"

"Mrs. Dublin's not here yet," One of the ballet girls said (Mrs. Dublin is the head ballet teacher/choreographer).

"Oh, I don't mind if they stay." Candice sighed, "Better to have support around me when I tell my tale."

"Oh God, please kill me now." Rich muttered.

"Shush," I said, "you don't have to costume for her. And besides, I want to hear this."

"Curiosity killed the…" Maggie began.

"Shut up!"

We sat down too, apart from the ballet girls, and listened to what Candice had to say.

"Well," She started, "you know these thefts have been happening for a while now, Mrs. Gardens. You know how my music keeps disappearing for my shows I'm in, my scripts go MIA and then I find them later in odd places. And then there was my ipod that went missing three days ago. Well, I recently found it again, with another letter."

"You mean from…"

"Yes, Mrs. Gardens. From the Theater Ghost!"

All of the ballet girls let out gasps and small cries of shock. I rolled my eyes. _Not the Theater Ghost… please._ I thought. _I am getting so sick of this._

"Here, I have the letter in my pocket." She said, pulling a folded piece of paper out of her jeans, "Read."

Mrs. Gardens took the note from her, unfolded it, and looked it over. Finally she began to read it aloud:

"Dear Ms. Williams,

It has come to my understanding that your ipod went missing a few days ago. Well, knowing that you cannot live without your Brittany Spears or Ashley Simpson, I have enclosed money in this letter so that you may go out and buy a new one. I do not wish for you to be upset, for an actress such as you should definitely be happy performing on stage… playing bit characters in comedies."

At this point some of the ballet girls burst out laughing, but one glare from Candice made them go silent.

"Why you keep auditioning for dramas I don't know; for your voice and manner is so naturally obnoxious and ghastly that it's clear that, if you were in a comedy, you wouldn't even have to act. Dear girl, gain some common sense, and please stop doing serious roles. And while you're at it, never open your mouth to sing again. It's dreadful, and even a dead man such as I, stirs in my grave when I hear your attempts at staying on key."

My face lit up hearing that. Okay, I didn't know who was writing these letters, but they were freaking hilarious at times. I turned to look at Richard and Maggie, and they were almost in tears trying not to laugh.

"So, in conclusion, stop trying to put out what you don't have. You were passable in your younger days, but you're grown now. It's not cute to the audience anymore, (and I never thought it was cute in the first place) it's just annoying. So here is your money for your new ipod, and I wish you luck with your next role you try out for… you'll need it.

With regards, The Theater Ghost.

PS—Your taste in music is atrocious. No wonder you sing terribly, listening to such music as Ke$ha."

Mrs. Gardens looked up at her after finishing the letter. "Well," She said, "how much money did he give you?"

"Sixty dollars." Candice said, "But that's not the point! He stole my ipod, whoever this man is! I know he did. And this is the twentieth letter he's sent me in the past nine months! Plus he hates Ke$ha, which is a crime on it's own."

"Well, he gave you the money back." She said, "And the police have tried to track him down before, but no luck. Besides, the letters aren't exactly threatening. He doesn't say he's going to kill you or find your house. He just says… what you need to improve on."

"He says I SUCK."

"Um, I don't think the word 'suck' is once mentioned in the letter." I pointed out, "Candice, just ignore it. I mean, he gave you enough money to buy two ipods if you wanted to. Let's just call it a day. Besides, we don't even know if this is a guy or girl."

"That's true, the show must go on." Candice said, standing up, "And I need to get my stuff out of my locker anyway… until the next show!"

With that she walked off stage, singing:

"_Don't stop, make it pop_

_DJ, blow my speakers up_

_Tonight, I'mma fight_

_'Til we see the sunlight_

_Tick tock on the clock_

_But the party don't stop, no"_

Finally when she was gone, the ballet girls made their way to the dance studio. Maggie walked over to meet with them, but before leaving the stage she yelled to Rich and I, "We'll meet outside the theater and go to _Panera_ for lunch, all right?"

"All right." We chimed, "See you there!" She waved to us, and we waved back, before disappearing around the corner.

"Well, I might call Mrs. Dublin and sees what's going on." Richard said, "I hope she's not sick."

"Yeah, you might want to check on her." I said, "But Rich, I have to ask, how did you get to be stage manager?"

He shrugged. "She's always thought I was a good kid, I guess, and knew I loved the theater. With everyone going on vacation this summer she needed an assistant to do stuff for her, so she picked me. It's a pretty nice gig. I like being in this place, and I don't mind having the extra cash. Plus…" He wrapped me up in another one of his hugs. "I get to hang out with you and Mags!"

"I know, I feel the same." I said, "And I kind of got my job the same way too. Tina's studying in Europe for the summer, so Mrs. Gardens picked me to help her out. So, it's great that I get to be here and get more experience under my belt. Besides, what else am I going to do since my dad is gone for the summer?"

"Yeah, I heard about that." He said, "Isn't he getting Davis' Strings set up in Europe or something?"  
>"Yep, and I get the house to myself. He took care of the bills before he left, and gave me enough money for food and whatever else I may need for the next few months."<p>

"How much did he give you?"  
>I punched his shoulder playfully. "Yeah right! Like I'm going to tell you that! Anyway, I'm going to check in with Mrs. Gardens. See you at lunch."<p>

He turned to leave. "See you there, Chris."

With that we parted ways for the next few hours, him to track down Mrs. Dublin, and me to take inventory of everything we had up in the costume room.

At last it was twelve thirty, time for lunch. By the time the break had rolled around, I had been up in the costume room for nearly five hours. I enjoyed seeing what we had and all, but you have to realize, the costume room is huge (think old library sized) and is filled from ceiling to floor with racks of clothes. You actually have to use a ladder to get to everything. The room has little air conditioning, smells like mothballs, and going up and down the ladder can make a person tired. So I was a little relieved to have an hour and half break by the time I got out of there.

Sure enough Richard and Maggie were waiting for me up front, and we walked across the street to _Panera_. Maggie ordered a large salad; Richard got a turkey sandwich thing with chips, and I opted for both: a small salad with a sandwich. We sat at a booth near the back, where we could watch the other costumers come in for lunch.

"Did you finally track down Mrs. Dublin this morning, Rich?" I asked him.

"Yeah," He said, "turns out she was having trouble finding a sitter for her kid, Leah. The girl who she usually has do it called in sick."

"Oh, that's not good. What did she end up doing?"  
>"Her little girl just sat in on rehearsal." Maggie answered, "Cute thing, and well behaved. She just watched us the whole time, and the funny thing is, we danced really well today. The girls and I said that she should sit in more often. We're pretty convinced she's good luck."<p>

"You are so superstitious, Mags." Richard laughed, "And speaking of superstitious, I can't believe you guys still have the Theater Ghost around. Hearing Candice talk about it was sure a blast from the past."

"Oh yeah, we still have sightings all the time." I said, "And people started getting letters from him after you left."

"Really, like what?"

"Usually he either critiques or praises the actors in a show, or he complains or compliments the managing of the theater. He even writes stuff to the backstage crew. He's very nice in general. He's left Tina lots of good notes in her locker. He adores her work."

"Hey, I thought you didn't know if the ghost was a he or she."

"I was just saying that go get Candice to shut up." I admitted, "The general consensus of the theater crew is that he's a boy."

"Besides, Joe Bennett described him." Maggie said, "And you know what he always said…"

And at once we all chimed in: "Old Joe knows, what Old Joe knows. And Old Joe knows, he's seen the ghost!"

"God, I remember," I giggled, "he was the first to see the ghost. Things had been disappearing long before then, but he was the first to catch a glimpse of who, or what, could be doing it. We had to have been in fourth grade then."

"Yeah, it was your first year at the theater." Maggie remembered, "And I had been in the ballet for almost seven."

"DUDE! I remember that." Richard gasped, "I was backstage getting ready for rehearsal, when Joe comes running down from the catwalk. He's freaking out, yelling, 'I saw a ghost! I saw a ghost!' We all gathered around him, and asked him to tell us what he had seen. It was the biggest thing to ever happen in Belleview at the time."

"Oh yeah, people talked about it for weeks." I said, "And I can still remember what Joe said about the ghost. He wore black pants with a black shirt and cloak. On his hands were gloves, made out of black leather, and on his feet we wore dark dress shoes…"

"…He was hanging from the rail of the catwalk." Rich continued, "And his back was at first turned way from him. But suddenly, he turned around and…"

"…He could see the person!" Mags cried, "He had dark hair, thick, but cut short. His eyes were like steel, staring straight at him. But that's all you could see, because covering most of his face was—a white mask! The only thing you could see was everything below his nose, like his mouth and chin!"

"And Old Joe knows, what Old Joe knows, and Old Joe knows…"

We spoke in a whisper again: "He saw the ghost!"

"I remember people stared seeing him like crazy after that." I said, "I mean, the younger ballet girls were terrified to be backstage alone, afraid that they would see him. The rumor was he liked to watch the shows being performed."

"It got to be such a problem that Mom said she'd reserve a box for him, so that he wouldn't have to go backstage to watch the show. She let us pick out the box too, and we all chose Box Five."

"Yeah, why did we choose that one anyway?" I asked.

"It was the nicest one." Richard said, "I think I was with you guys when you were talking about it once. After everyone gave him a box, people started crossing backstage alone again, and the sightings went down. So it worked."  
>"Ha! Says you. People swear they can see a shadow in Box Five now."<p>

"Really?" He said, turning to Maggie, "Huh, guess I never paid much attention to the details of the rumors."

"You know, I actually kind of believe it." She confessed, "I… I thought I saw him once."

I dropped the chip I was holding and stared at her. "You thought you saw him?"  
>"Yeah." She said softly.<p>

"Why didn't you tell me, Mags?"  
>"I don't know! I thought you wouldn't believe me. We used to make fun of the Theater Ghost and the rumors, so I thought it was stupid to tell the person who I used to make fun of them with."<p>

"When did you see it?" Richard questioned.

"It was last year, when I was one of the dolls in Guys and Dolls. It was a scene where I was sitting down in the island restaurant, and I looked up for a moment to scan the crowd. I don't know why Box Five caught my eye. I guess it's because it was a full house that night, and with a full house, Box Five is the only seat empty. So I looked up, like I said, to scan the crowd… and someone is sitting in the box."

"What did he look like?" I said.

"It looked like a shadow, a human shadow. I thought I could even see the white mask, but I'm not sure. Literally after I blinked he was gone."

"Well maybe you did see him Maggie." I said.

"I don't know if I saw _him_, but I saw something."

"Well ghost or not, the person who keeps sending Candice those letters has a great sense of humor." Richard complimented, "I got to say that."

"I agree." I said, holding my plastic cup of water, "I say we should toast to this person, whoever he is, for at least giving us a good laugh."

"I'm up for it." Maggie said, "Cheers."

"Cheers!"

With that we took a swig of our drinks, and finished our lunch before heading back to the theater.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: In the Underground of the Theater

As soon as everyone had left for their lunch break, Amy Gardens made her way backstage. Her thoughts were racing as she searched for _the_ door, which would lead her to _him_.

"He can't keep doing this." She muttered, "He can't keep leaving those damn notes!"

She remembered the notes starting to come about two years ago. The first one had been addressed to the director at the time, Bryce Goodwin, and to the entire cast of _Our Town_. The notes praised the run crew (the people backstage who moved the sets), and applauded the work of Mr. Goodwin. But of course it had bashed Candice, calling her a "textbook example of a melodramatic, over acting southern belle". Amy had to confess though, after dealing with Candice's attitude for years, the letters amused her.

But no, it had gone too far this time. The letter was dancing on the border of indecency true, but taking Candice's ipod? No, she'd have to do something about him this time. Still—he hadn't stolen anything of such value before. It was odd.

She at last was at the far corner of the backstage area. Along that back wall was wood paneling along the bottom, and she pressed one of the wood planks in. At that moment a section of the wall moved to the side, and there she was, in front of the entrance to the underground bomb shelter made seventy years ago.

The only people who knew about the rooms under the theater were herself, Mr. Gardens, and the one she was looking for. Amy glanced around the perimeter, again making sure no one was there, and then stepped through the doorway, which lead to a flight of stairs. Before walking down them, she pressed one of the light green bricks inside the tunnel (that's what the surrounding walls were made of) and the door closed behind her. With that, she made her way down to the rooms.

Five rooms were underground, each of them pretty large. They were empty eight years ago, but now, had been converted into a bedroom, library, music room, kitchen/dining room, and bathroom. And the amazing thing about it was, the person who had converted them had only been twelve years old at the time.

Suddenly Amy heard a solo violin coming from the music room. She stopped to listen to the tune, and she recognized the song almost immediately. It was amazing how _he_ could make an instrument sound like it was singing:

"_Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

_Take these broken wings and learn to fly_

_All your life_

_You were only waiting for this moment to arise"_

She leaned against the right side of the hallway listening for a while, but then remembered what she had to do. She walked over to the opposite side of the corridor, and into the first room she came upon: the music room. She knew he was there, for that was the only place he ever played his violin.

And upon walking inside, she learned she was right. He was standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by bookshelves of sheet music. His keyboard and small piano were against the right hand wall, and a green carpet covered most of the ground. His back was to her, and he didn't seem to hear her come in.

"Erik, we need to talk." Amy stated.

The man stopped playing, and finally turned to face her. Even though she had seen him frequently for the past thirteen years, it still surprised her how striking, dark, and alluring his energy and stature was… even without a face. He was tall, about six four, and had a muscular and lithe build. He had a thick amount of black hair on his head that was kept short, only halfway down his neck. Down in the tunnels she usually saw him wearing relaxed dark washed jeans with a button down or form fitting t-shirt. But above ground in the theater he would dress completely in black with a cloak, becoming a shadow thanks to his quick and silent movements. Yet none of that could distract from the fact that he wore a white porcelain mask that covered most of his face. Only his mouth and the lower part of his cheeks could be seen. Also on his mask were holes so you could see his eyes. They were a silvery blue, which often shone with intelligence. Intelligence, yes… he had plenty of that. Enough for twenty geniuses combined. He had used that brilliance well, getting his college degree online at the age of eighteen. How many plays, operas, and musicals had he written for the theater under different names now? Forty? He often had three projects at a time going, but that was how he made his living: writing and making music. It was Amy who would do the personal meetings with the publishers, and he paid her a good sum to do it. In the end, the publishing houses didn't care if they saw or spoke with him at all. He was doing what he liked while making money, they were making money too, and that was good enough for everyone.

Now nineteen he had decided not to get a doctorate, for after all, he was making a comfortable living off of royalties and would probably make more shows in the future. No, not probably, definitely. But of course what else could you expect from Erik, who spent most of his time underneath the theater writing, playing music, and reading?

"What do we need to talk about, Mrs. Gardens?" He asked, his voice soft, soothing, and deep. She used to shiver at the sound of it, especially after he turned thirteen and his voice broke. But now the only thing that could make her react was when he sang… that always drove her to tears. Music always seemed to embody him, even at the age of seven, when she had first found him in the streets.

"Candice got your letter today." She said.

"Oh, that was the wailing I heard earlier." He realized, sitting down and putting his violin across his lap, "God that woman makes the most ghastly of noises. I thought she would've grown out of it by now."

"Erik, that's not the point. You stole her ipod."

"Actually, I didn't. That was all a big misunderstanding."

"All right, explain yourself then."

He pushed his hair back, letting out a sigh. "Last week I found her ipod on the stage floor after the final performance of her show. Honestly, I had no idea it was hers. I picked it up and took it with me back to my room, and then listened around for the next few days to see if someone had lost an ipod. Well, I didn't hear anything, so I pulled off the music I wanted and then deleted the rest of the files. Oh, and by the way, I take back what I said about Beyonce being terrible. _Halo_ is actually pretty good…"

"Erik, get to the point."

"Right. Anyway, the next day after I did all that, I heard that she had lost it. But I couldn't give her the device back with most of her music gone from it. So I wrote her a note and gave her the money to get a new one. I truly am sorry that I took it on accident, but I didn't steal it. Stealing means I intended to take it from her, and I didn't. You know I wouldn't take something like that. The only things I steal are props and scripts, which I always pay you back for."

"You shouldn't have left the note though."

"Oh, really? I thought it was my best letter yet."

"It was funny, but Erik…"

"Mrs. Gardens, that's the one thing I do for fun, other than get out during rehearsals and shows to be the Theater Ghost. I'm a critic at heart, and you know that. And what about the advice I've given over the years? To remind you, who gave the idea to Mr. Goodwin to use black lights for some of the scenes in _Dracula_?"

"You did but…"

"And who gave tips to the understudy in _Oklahoma_ when Curly lost his voice and he had to replace him?"

"You did, still Erik…"

He held a hand up to her, telling her he knew what she was trying to say. "Mrs. Gardens, if it disturbs you that much, I won't write letters to Candice… for a few weeks."

She sighed. Well, at least he was willing to make some kind of agreement.

"Two months." She said.

"Done." He held out a hand to her and they shook on the deal, "So, is that the only thing you came down here to talk to me about?"

She smiled. "It was, originally, but you know I enjoy talking with you."

"Well, would you care to join me for lunch then? I was going to have some left over salad from last night, if that's all right with you."

"Sounds great, Erik."

They walked out of the music room and down the hall. After turning a corner they made their way into the kitchen, which was the last room in the underground shelter. It had a small fridge, sink, a stovetop and oven, a small, circular table in the middle of the area, and a long plastic table with drawers where you could prepare food.

He got out two large bowls from the drawers, and then ventured into the fridge to fish out a Tupperware of left over salad. After spooning an even amount of the dish into the two bowls, he squirted some ranch dressing on them and put a fork in each one. By now Amy had sat down in one of the two chairs at the table, and he walked over with the salads and handed her one.

"Can I get you anything to drink right now?" He asked.

"Nah, I'm good." She replied, "So, how are things with you?"

"They're going well. I'm at a roadblock though working on my new musical."

"Why's that?"

"I don't honestly know. It might be because…" He suddenly became silent, and she knew right away that something was wrong. She put down her fork and looked up from her salad.

"Erik, what are you not telling me?" She said.

He took a deep breath and sat up straighter. "I'm getting that pain in my face again."

"You mean, that phantom pain?"

"Yeah, like I'm remembering what happened when I was little." She put her fingers to her temples and began to rub them.

"Damn it." She muttered, "God, I hate it when that happens to you. Any nightmares or flashbacks?"

"A couple in the last eight months."

"Why didn't you tell me this was happening?"

"I need to learn to deal with it alone."

"No, you don't. We still have those pills the doctors gave us a few years back…"

"NO. I am not taking those pills again. When I was on those things, it felt like I was walking through Jell-O. I can't go back to living like that. I was so screwed up, I couldn't even play my piano or violin."

"Maybe you need to stop hiding down here and come out about who you really are."

He glared at her. "We've talked about this all ready. This subject is done now."

"Erik, please…"

"No. You said I could stay here until I was twenty-four. Have I been a burden to you, Mrs. Gardens?"  
>"Don't ask that, you know the answer all ready."<p>

"Tell me then. Tell me again so I can know for certain."

"Erik, you haven't been. You've been a great joy to me."  
>"Then let's forget I said anything earlier, all right?"<p>

She nodded. "Okay, okay. We'll forget about it." They ate in a silence for a few minutes, but finally she spoke again. "Tina left to study abroad this summer."

"Hmm, all ready?" He said.

"Yeah."

"Good for her. I always thought that studying her craft outside of the country would be good for her. Who do you have running costumes now?"  
>"Do you know Christy Davis?"<p>

He set his fork in his empty bowl. "Yes. She used to help out Tina if I remember correctly. Nice girl. She's also had a lot of bit roles in shows, right? I always liked her acting. She hasn't been on stage for a while."

"No, she hasn't. But she's the one I picked to replace Tina for the summer."

"Seriously?"  
>"Yeah."<p>

"How old is she now?"  
>"Seventeen."<br>"Seventeen! Mrs. Gardens, she's just a kid."

"The last time you saw her, she was. She's grown up quite a bit since then. Her father has gone over seas to get his company to go international. She's alone for the summer, and needed something to occupy her time. Well, she's definitely experienced enough, so I gave her the job. And Erik, remember, you were seventeen once and when you were that age, I was putting on shows that you wrote."

"Yeah-huh."

"Three years is not that much of a difference."

"All right, I'll wave the white flag on this one. But I'll be watching her. And if something is wrong with the costumes, I'm sending her a letter."

"That's fine by me. She doesn't believe in you anyway."

"Ah, well then, the Theater Ghost will have to make an appearance for her."

"She'll kick your butt. She's tougher than most girls here."

"I can't wait for the challenge."

Amy smiled and stood up. "I have to go Erik. People are going to start getting back from lunch soon, and I have to over see everything."

He stood too to escort her out. "All right. I know you have your life up there. And speaking of life up there, congrats on Maggie getting the lead in _Swan Lake_."

"Your welcome." She said as they perused down the hall, "But if you write her a negative letter…"

"Mrs. Gardens, you know I would never have the need to do that. But I might slip some chocolate into her locker."

"She'll support you forever if you did that."

"Yes!" He pumped a fist into the air. "The Theater Ghost is soon to have one loyal."

At last they made it to the hidden door, and he pushed in the brick so she could leave. "You take care, Mrs. Gardens. Tell Mr. Gardens I said hi, and drop me a line anytime."

"I'm sure I'll talk to you on the phone in the next few days. Goodbye, Erik."

"Bye Mrs. Gardens."

With that she pushed in the wooden panel to shut the door, and after she did so, stood watching him disappear behind the wall.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Above the Catwalk

For the next few days Maggie, Richard, and I enjoyed reconnecting. Everyday we would meet at the crosswalk where I caught Mags on my first day of work, and we would all walk together to the theater. We would get in and do our jobs until twelve thirty. Maggie would be in the dance studio, working with her cast for _Swan Lake_, and Richard would be within the same area by Mrs. Dublin's side in case she needed him to do something. By now I had taken the ballet girls' measurements for their costumes. There were a few guys that needed measurements, but I would do that later in the day. I liked to take sizes ahead of time, so in case I couldn't find anything that fit in the costume room for all the girls, I could tell Mrs. Gardens and we could rent or borrow costumes form other theater companies. Sometimes it would take weeks to find a set of costumes that worked, so I always liked having plenty of time to spare. Rule number one of costuming: give yourself plenty of time to prepare for anything.

Well luckily, we did have _Swan Lake_ costumes in the theater from a production seven years ago… lots of costumes. I took turns with each girl throughout the week and had them try on all the outfits on. Some of the dresses needed to be let out at the sleeves or bodice, or taken out at the skirt. After organizing which costume would go to whom, I now had to make alterations on them.

It was now a week and a half after I had started working at the theater. It was almost seven o'clock, and pretty much all of the cast and crewmembers had headed out for the day, even Mrs. Gardens. It was a Friday night, and everyone was eager for the weekend.

But I was up in the costume room, fixing a hole in one of the ballerina's costumes. There were about six out of the twenty costumes I still had to do, so I made a decision I would stay late and finish the alterations before I went home. I was sitting on a stool with the dress in my lap, and my sewing box nearby on a small table. I was about to cut the string from the needle (after tying it off on the dress), when Maggie and Richard clambered up the stairs and into the costume room.

"Chris!" Richard said, "Come on, it's time to head out!"

"Eh, not for me guys." I sighed, "I want to get these costumes fixed up before I leave."

"Oh, come on." Maggie groaned, "We aren't doing the show for another three weeks. That gives you one solid week to get everything done."

"No, I need to finish this." I insisted, "But don't worry, I only have six costumes left to do."

"All right," He said, "But promise me that we're still on for our trip down the boardwalk."

"Of course we are. One o'clock be at my house. I should be ready by then."

"Oh, speaking of that, I can't go." Mags said, "Mom wants me to have a day of rest. But next week she says she'll let me."

"All right, then Chris and I will go." Richard decided, "Just promise you won't bring a red jacket, okay?"

I laughed as I rummaged in my sewing box for more thread. "In weather like this, you have my word. Now get out of here and start enjoying the weekend."

"We will. Call me when you get home though, all right Chris?"

I turned to Maggie and nodded. "Don't worry, I'll get out of here before it gets too dark."

"All right, see ya girl!"

"Bye Chris."

"Bye guys!" I said. With that, they walked back down to the stage, and I heard the door close as they left out the lobby.

By now I decided to move my work out onto the stage, where I could get better lighting and fresher air. I gathered the six remaining costumes in one hand, my sewing box in the other, and began to make my way downstairs. After laying everything down, I ran back to the light booth to turn on the stage lights. I pressed a few buttons and pushed up a few switches, and presto, the stage was glowing. When that was done, I searched backstage for something to sit on, and I found a wooden chair that hadn't been put away in the props room. I picked it up and brought it out on stage. Finally I grabbed another dress, sat down, and began to work on it.

For a while I was content to work in peace and quiet, but a stage without noise is… I don't know, weird. A few minutes later it began to bug me. So, knowing that I was the only person in the theater, I started singing. I honestly didn't know if I sounded good or not, but I did enjoy it and since no one was around, who cared anyway? I took a deep breath, and as soon as I let that first note come out of my mouth, something in me felt free:

"_There's a place for us_

_Somewhere a place for us _

_Peace and quiet and open air _

_Wait for us _

_Somewhere"_

I smiled, satisfied that I could still remember the words to the song, and kept going:

"_There's a time for us, _

_Some day they'll be a time for us, _

_Time together with time spare_

_Time to learn, time to care_

_Some day_

_Somewhere _

_We'll find a new way of living_

_We'll find a way of forgiving _

_Somewhere_"

I stood up, an overwhelming part of me feeling the song. I let the costume and dress fall to the floor again, and I performed for myself, an audience of one:

"_There's a place for us_

_A time and place for us _

_Hold my hand and we're halfway there _

_Hold my hand and I'll take you there _

_Somehow_

_Some day_

_Somewhere"_

I power housed the last note, and holding it out for as long as I could. I cut off ten seconds later, but even after I did, my voice echoed throughout the theater. Something about hearing my own voice chilled me, and it was then I looked up to the catwalk to distract myself. I gazed along the row of lights, shielding my eyes so I wouldn't damage them, and that is when I saw the man.

I wasn't sure who he was, but I could tell he was completely dressed in black and was very tall. I squinted my eyes to get a better look, and that was when I noticed the white mask on his face…

My heart skipped a beat, and I screamed and fell back. It was him! The Theater Ghost!

I looked back up, just in time to see the cloak he was wearing billow back behind him… and then he became invisible. But I could hear his footsteps running down the iron catwalk and to the stairs—oh God. What if he was coming after me?

I stood up and ran back up to the costume room, leaving the wooden chair and dresses out. Locking the door behind me, I pressed my back against it and slid down to the floor. It was there I waited for him to materialize in front of me and, do what to me, I couldn't say. I stayed there for about thirty minutes, listening to the theater and to my own beating heart. But he never came.

I sat there, telling myself that my senses must've been playing tricks on me. But I knew deep down that wasn't true. When you _think_ you see something, you don't look up and see it again. I had seen the Theater Ghost looking at me from the catwalk, and then his cape flying behind him. And what about the footsteps? The theater sometimes creaked a little, but it never made thumping noises on it's own. Especially in the catwalk, where we constantly did repairs to keep it safe.

I finally stood up, deciding that I couldn't stay there alone a second longer. I unlocked the door, and quickly put everything away that was on stage. After I flew back up to the costume room to grab my purse, and taking a deep breath, I left the room. I turned off the stage lights before leaving, but I can guarantee you, that as soon as I had done that I was out of the theater faster than you can say _Oklahoma!_

When I got home I turned on all of the lights, still feeling spooked from earlier. I did some cleaning to calm my nerves, and then fixed myself a stir-fry for dinner. After I got a long bath, changed into my pajamas, and went back around the house to turn off all of the lights again before bed. Well, not all of them. For the very first time in ten years, I slept with a night-light on.

The next morning I woke up around ten o'clock so I could be awake and ready to see Richard. I was relieved that, even though Maggie couldn't come with us, that we had decided to still go down to the boardwalk. I had to tell somebody what had happened to me, so I could have some reassurance that I wasn't crazy. After pulling on black Bermuda shorts and a layered pink and white tank, I turned on the morning news and munched on an apple. I loafed on the couch watching TV for a while, but around eleven I did my makeup, pulled my hair back in a headband, and grabbed some money from my first paycheck at the theater (at the Gardens Theater, Mrs. Gardens gave you your pay weekly, instead of waiting till the end of the month. After all, an actor always needs money).

As I was putting my diamond studs in my ears, the doorbell rang. I quickly walked to the front door to see who the visitor was. Looking through the window I saw that it was Richard, wearing jeans and a Linkin Park t-shirt.

"Hey Rich." I said, opening the door.

"Hiya Chris. Sorry I'm early." He apologized, stepping in the living room. "My grandparents told me that I either had to get out of the house or they'd make me do chores."

"It's not an issue." I reassured, "I was just about to slip my shoes on anyway when you got here."

"Great!" He said, sitting down on the couch, "I'll wait for you then."  
>"All right."<p>

I walked back into my room, pulled on my black ballet flats, and grabbed my purse from my bed.

"Ready!" I cried, walking back to the front door.

"Awesome, let's get going. After all, I'm dying for one of Mr. West's burgers!" He said.

We walked out of the house and began to make our way to the boardwalk.

"So, did you get all of the costuming done last night?" He asked.

"No, I didn't." I took a deep breath. "Rich, something really weird happened to me last night."

He had now come to the crosswalk, and he leaned against the pole while we were waiting for the light to turn. "Like what?"

"Like, I don't know how to explain it. Someone, or something, scared me. Honestly, I can't remember a time I had been so terrified."

He spun around to face me. "Chris, did someone try to hurt you?"

"No," I said, "at least I don't think so. You may laugh at me when I say this Rich, but I think I saw the Theater Ghost."

"Excuse me?" He said.

"I think I saw the Theater Ghost." I repeated.

"Wait, let me get this straight." He stated as we were crossing the street. "You Christy Davis, the most skeptical person I have ever talked to when it comes to the Theater Ghost, now thinks that you've had an encounter with the one thing you were pretty sure didn't exist. I mean, you believed in the Loch Ness Monster more than you believed in the Theater Ghost, and now you claim you actually saw him."

"Yes," I muttered.

"You're kidding."  
>"No. And I'll be honest, I wish I were kidding. What I saw scared the hell out of me. I actually slept with a night-light on."<p>

"Jeez. What exactly happened?"

"How about I tell you that when we get to _Mr. West's Burger Joint_?"

He nodded in agreement, and for the next three minutes, we were silent. But at last we made it to the boardwalk, or what I liked to call, the Place of our Childhood.

The boardwalk was pretty much the place where everyone hung out. During the day, kids from ages six to twelve would be out around the shops, dives, beach, and arcade, messing around and hanging out. But from evening until late night the teenagers and on up would take over the boardwalk, chilling at the arcade and meeting at the dance club: _Beat of the Sea_. The adults had the bars where they hung out in town, but _Beat of the Sea_ was a club made just for teenagers and college kids. It didn't serve any alcoholic drinks, and the music was clean… most of the time. Anyway, most people in Belleview spent half their life on the boardwalk, and at that moment, Richard and I were making our way down to _Mr. West's Burger Joint_ so we could continue to do the same thing.

_Mr. West's Burger Joint_ was actually the oldest place in Belleview, it being built in the forties by Mr. West himself. He still hangs around the place at the ripe old age of 70, even though his son now runs it. It serves the best burgers and fries in Florida, and even though it gets plenty of costumers all year around, the summer was really the time his business kicked in. Luckily though, Richard and I had arrived just as the lunch hour was ending, so there wasn't a wait. All around you could see people: doctors, lawyers, construction workers, lifeguards… everyone with a Styrofoam box eating some of Mr. West's burgers and fires.

We walked into the building, styled like a forties diner with black and white tile and a jukebox. Think _Bionic Burger_, except this was the real deal. You had a soda bar up ahead with a cash register where you placed your order to a cashier, usually Mr. West the second. Then he would yell back to the cooks in the kitchen your order, and say, "Make it like it's the best burger you've ever cooked in your life!"

But we didn't see Mr. West the second at the cashier today. Instead, we saw the first Mr. West.

"Mr. West!" I greeted, quickly walking over to give him a hug. The last time I had seen him had been months earlier, when he had come to a production of _Guardian of the Sidewalk_. Later, he had walked up and told me he thought my costuming was wonderful. I remember how much that had made my night.

"How are you doing sir?" I asked, backing away from him.

He gave me a bright smile that made his old brown eyes shine. He pushed a strand of white hair back from his brow, and said, "I'm doing fine, Chris. My, you are looking like such a young lady now! And a pretty young lady at that!"

"Thank you, Mr. West. Now, I have to ask, why isn't your son working today?"

"Oh, he was sick, so I told him I'd run the place for the day. I don't mind, really. These old bones need something to do."

"Well, I wouldn't call you old at all, Mr. West." Richard jumped in, "Just experienced in years."

Mr. West turned to him, and his grin became even wider. "Bless my soul, is that Rich Cromwell?"

"Yes sir."

"Well I'll be! How are you doing, young man? I haven't seen you in… has it been two years?"  
>"Yes it has."<p>

"You're turning out to be quite a fine man yourself. Are you and Chris here, _together_?"

"No, no!" I laughed, "We're just friends."

"Ah, I see." He said, "Well, you know what they say, love may come and go, but friends never leave. Anyway, what can I get you two?"

"The Classic Meal for both of us," Richard said, getting into his wallet, "and I'm paying."

"Richard, no!" I said, "I'm a big girl, I can get this…"

"Well I want to make up for the birthdays and holidays I've missed with you. And if you say no Chris, I'll toss you into the ocean just like your red coat… and I won't bother to swim after you!"

We all laughed at the reference, and Richard dished out the money for our meal. As soon as the money was in the cash register, Mr. West turned to the kitchen window and shouted, "Two classic meals guys! And make it like it's the best burger you've ever cooked in your life!"

After that he gave Rich and I our glasses of soda, and we sat down at a booth in the back of the diner, right across from one another. After a few minutes of silence, Richard asked, "Okay, so back to the Theater Ghost thing. Chris, what happened?"

I took a sip of my drink and said, "After you guys left, I walked down to the stage to finish my work. I felt like I could breathe easier there, so I found a chair backstage and began to make alterations on the dresses again. It was quiet for a while, and that drove me absolutely nuts, so I started singing. After I finished the song, I looked up, and there he was. I'm telling you Richard, he looked exactly like how the ballet girls described him. He was head to toe in black, and he wore a cloak. Then, on his face, there was the white mask. At first when I saw him, I thought he might've been Mrs. Gardens or a stagehand. But as soon as I saw the mask, I knew it was the Theater Ghost. Never had I ever seen anything like him before. He was so… dark. I screamed and was on the floor," I snapped my fingers, "just like that. I can't even begin to tell you how terrifying it was. I looked up and I could see his cloak for a split second, and then he literally disappeared into the shadows. But I could hear him on the catwalk, and then running down the stairs. I thought he was going to come get me or something. So I hauled back to the costume room and locked myself in for a while. When he didn't show up in front of me or knock on the door, I quickly put my stuff away and left."

"Do you think it possibly could've been a prank, Chris?"

I shook my head. "No. No one except you and Maggie knew I was there. And if you did it Richard, I swear to God, I will be mightily pissed at you."

"I would never do anything like that, and you know it." He defended, "And even if Maggie and I had done it, we would've gone up to the costume room to tell you, not have you sitting there terrified."

I shrugged, "Then I have no explanation for what I saw, except that it was the Theater Ghost."

Right then Mr. West came to our booth, holding two Styrofoam boxes with our meals in them. He set them down in front of us, and asked, "Is there anything else I can get you two?"  
>"No." I replied, "We're good. Thanks Mr. West."<p>

"No, thank you for coming into my dive." He said, "I never get to see you two anymore." With that he walked away.

For a few minutes we ate in silence, both of us deep in thought. What Richard had said about my experience being a prank made me think. What if it was someone in the theater writing the letters and making appearances… just to scare everyone? Or perhaps, it could be a group of people. If I could debunk the sightings, prove that it wasn't a ghost, I could stop the stories and letters for good.

"On Monday, I'm going to stay late and see if I can get a glimpse of him again." I decided. Richard looked up at me.

"You want to do _what_?" He gasped.

"I'm going to stay late at the theater and try to catch the Theater Ghost."  
>"Are you freaking insane? You told me he scared the crap out of you, and now you want to go find him?"<p>

"Look Rich, you know me. When someone does something to me like that, I get mad, and I want to get even. If I could find the person, or group, who is doing this then they would never live it down."

"But you just said you weren't too sure what it was."

"Well it has to be a person. After all, ghosts don't exist."

"At least let me stay after with you. I don't want you being there alone when you face this thing."

"That won't work. The Theater Ghost only appears to someone when they are alone backstage, or in Box Five during a performance. If you're there I'm certain he won't show up."

He shook his head. "I don't like the sound of this, Chris. I don't like it at all."

"But I don't think he'll hurt me. If he had wanted to, he would've done it at last night." I reasoned. I saw the worried look on his face though, and knew that trying to reassure him like that wasn't going to work. "All right, how about this? I won't be there past nine o'clock, so when I leave, I'll give you a ring. If you don't hear anything from me past nine, call the police."

He sighed. "Okay, it's since clear I can't stop you, that's fine. But you better call me right at nine. I'll be up waiting for you. Are you going to tell Maggie about what happened?"

"Yeah, I probably will. But you two can't tell anyone about what I saw. I'm afraid that if people knew, they'd try to screw with me and actually pull a prank."

"Hey, anything for the girl with the red coat."

I smiled. "Thanks Richard. It's great to have you back in town with Maggie and I."

"Hey, it's great to be back."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: The Offer

"Are you stupid?" Maggie asked.

It was finally Monday, and her, Richard, and I were walking to the theater. Last night I had told her that I saw the Theater Ghost, but I didn't mention my plan to stay late and try to catch him. This was the first time she had heard anything of it, and by the look on her face, I could tell she thought I was a complete nutcase.

"I've all ready tried to talk her out of it, Maggie." Richard sighed, "But she didn't listen to me."

"Chris, you can't do this!" She cried, "What if that guy really is a ghost?"  
>"Well I'll have a really good story to tell then." I said, "And don't you two even think about hiding out in the theater to make sure I'm okay. This is something I want to do on my own."<p>

"What if someone hurts you?" She asked.

"I'll have my cell on me the whole time. Just don't worry about me. I'm going to call Richard when I leave tonight, and if you want, I'll call you too."

"But Chris…"

"Don't ' but Chris' me. I promise, I'll only do this once. If I don't see him or can't find him, I'll never mention it again. Now, can we all accept the fact that I'm going to do this?"

Slowly she nodded. "You better call me when you get out of there. If you don't, I'll be up all night wondering if my best friend was kidnapped or something."

"You and me both, Mags." Richard said, "You and me both."

It was weird walking into the theater again after what happened. As I made my way backstage I glanced at the catwalk, wondering if I would see the Ghost. Maggie and Richard stopped to see what I was looking at, and he pointed up around the area where I had seen him.

"Is that where the Theater Ghost was?" He asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, he was right there. I was sitting right about where I am now, and when I looked up, there he was."

"Weird," Maggie said as we walked away.

"Yeah." I echoed, "Very weird." We finally parted ways, me going to the costume room, and Richard and Maggie going to the dance studio.

We had lunch together at _McDonald's_, where my friends tried to come up with theories on what I had seen. I even toyed around with a few of their ideas myself, but nothing made a definite conclusion. Finally, we went back to the theater to finish out the day.

At last six o'clock rolled along, and everyone was going home. Mrs. Gardens had come up to the costume room to tell me she was leaving, and I explained that I still had three more costumes to alter. She said that was okay, and to exit out the lobby door which would lock behind me. After she left, Maggie and Richard came up.

"I brought you dinner." Richard said, holding out a paper bag for me.

I stood up from where I was sitting to take it from him. I looked inside to see a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a bag of baked potato chips, a can of soda, carrots, and a bar of chocolate. I smiled. I knew for a fact Richard wasn't the best cook in the world, but I found it sweet that he had taken the time to prepare something like this for me.

"I made it this morning, and then kept it in the greenroom refrigerator." He said, "So it should be fine for a while."

"Thank you." I said, "I was wondering how I was going to get dinner."

"Just be careful, Chris." Maggie insisted, "If you sense something is wrong, get out of here."

"I will, don't worry. You guys just get home safe, all right?"

"All right," She said, tuning to leave. Richard motioned for her to go ahead.

"I'll be down in a second." He promised. She nodded, and then walked down the stairs.

When she was gone, he moved closer to me. "You better be careful, Chris." He said, "I seriously have a bad hunch about this."

"Rich, I'll be fine." I stated, "You just get home and wait for my call, okay?"

"Yeah, you better be fine." He said teasingly, "Because I was planning to ask you out on Friday."

I felt my cheeks go red, and I put a strand of hair behind my ear. "Really?" I said.

"Yeah, really." He answered, "Why don't you and I catch a movie Friday evening?"

"Well, okay. Sure. I'd love that."

He let out a sight of relief. "Awesome! We're on then."

"Yeah, we're on."

We smiled at each other, and he held out his arms for a hug. I stepped into him, and he held me against his chest for a while. "You be safe, Chris." He said.

"I will Richard."

He backed away from me, and even though he was worried, gave me a smile. "I'll talk to you later, all right?"

"You know you will." I said.

"Okay, bye Chris."

"Bye Rich." With that he walked out the door.

Somehow I managed to juggle the costumes, sewing box, lunch bag, and my phone in my arms, and walked down stairs to the stage. I did everything exactly how I did it on Friday, including turning on the stage lights and finding the wooden chair. When I was situated in my seat, I began to work on the dresses.

Every once in a while I looked up to the catwalk, but I saw nothing. I worked slowly, so I could use up the three hours I would be there. About forty-five minutes passed, and I decided then I would eat what Richard brought me.

I sat down on the ground and set the food on the paper bag, like I was having a picnic. But before I ate, I decided to sing a little, to break the silence around me:

"_Head under water and you tell me_

_To breathe easy for awhile_

_The breathing gets harder even I know that_

_Made room for me it's too soon to see_

_If I'm happy in your hands_

_I'm unusually hard to hold on to"_

That's when I felt that static in the air, like I was being watched. I remembered that feeling from the other night, and I pushed my meal away and stood up, continuing to sing:

"_Blank stares at blank pages_

_No easy way to say this_

_You mean well_

_But you make this hard on me_

_I'm not gonna write you a love song_

_'Cause you ask for it_

_'Cause you need one you see_

_I'm not gonna write you a love song_

_'Cause you tell me it's make or breaking this_

_If you're on your way_

_I'm not gonna write you to stay_

_All you have is leaving_

_I'm gon' need a better reason_

_To write you a love song today, today"_

I scanned the catwalk, looking to see if I could catch a glimpse of the Ghost, but I didn't see anything. Still the feeling lingered that someone was around, and it drove me mad that I couldn't control it.

"All right, that's it!" I yelled, "Look, I saw you yesterday, and I know you're here now! I can feel that you're here! All my life I was pretty sure that you didn't exist until Friday, so make me believe it for certain. If you are real, and if you're with me now, show yourself somehow!" I paced back and forth, my eyes darting everywhere, "Come on! If you're real, prove it! Come on!"

I stood there, realizing I was shivering. I wrapped my arms around my stomach and tried to steady myself, to calm myself. This was insane. Nothing was in there, nothing. I was only yelling at walls.

"God, I'm nuts." I said, "I'm going crazy…" I sat down on the stage floor where my food was, and began to eat. I went through my sandwich without disturbance, and then onto my pack of chips. For a while everything was quiet… but then I heard the voice.

"Good evening, Ms. Davis."

I let out a cry of shock and stood up, backing away from my small picnic. I looked at the catwalk again, but still, there was nothing. I made a circle, trying to find where the voice was coming from, but I couldn't pin point an exact spot.

"Where are you?" I asked in a trembling voice, "Who are you?"

"Shush," The voice said soothingly, "I'm not here to harm you, Ms. Davis."

From what I could tell it was a man's voice, deep yet soft. He sounded very intelligent, articulating his words perfectly. But it wasn't the words that made me so unnerved; it was the sound of his voice. It was musical, how perfectly his words seemed to flow together, and the affect it had on me almost made me lower my guard. But now was not the greatest time to do that, obviously.

"What do you want with me?" I said.

"I want to help you." He answered.

"Ha! You want to help me? Yeah, scaring me the past two times I've been here alone… sure, that's _definitely_ helping me!"

"Yes, I know that I've upset you recently. I want to apologize for that. Whether you accept my apology or not is clearly up to you, but I at least want you to hear it. Scaring you was not something I intended to do, and I am sorry that it came across that way. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"Right," I muttered, putting a hand on my hip, "so, who are you?"

"Ms. Davis, I'm afraid I can't tell you that directly."

"Well then, that's your problem. Tell me who you are, or I'll leave."

"No wait! Don't go yet." I smiled a bit, hearing the slight urgency in his voice.

"Are you the Theater Ghost?" I questioned.

"It's a persona, but right now, that's not who I am." He answered.

"How am I supposed to know that for certain, if I can't see you?"

There was a slight pause before he spoke again. "Ms. Davis, do you see the orchestra pit right in front of the stage?"

"Yes," I said, gazing at the hole, which was ten feet deep.

"Move toward the edge of it, but don't look in it. When you get there, let your hand rest over the edge and into the shadows, all right?"

"Why?"

"I can show you who I am this way."

I sighed, and walked the twenty feet over to the orchestra pit. When I got there, I kept my eyes from directly looking inside it, and carefully lay down on my stomach. When I had done so I let my hand and forearm dangle over the edge.

"All right, I'm here." I said.

"I can see that." He confirmed, "Now, don't be afraid."

Suddenly I felt someone grab my hand, and I let out a cry of surprise. At that moment I thought, _It's him! My God, he's going to pull me in and strangle me._ I closed my eyes tight, waiting for him to do so, but he only kept his grip on my fingers.

"Ms. Davis, tell me what you feel." He said.

Slowly, I opened my eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. "I feel a warm hand with five fingers."

"Yes, you are correct. That is my hand. Now, tell me, do ghosts have skin?"

"No, I wouldn't believe so."  
>"Are they warm?"<p>

"No."

"Then clearly, I am not the Theater Ghost. Now, don't look in the orchestra pit." He let got my hand, and I sat up.

"Have you been down there the whole time?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied, "I have been."

"Then how come I couldn't figure out exactly where your voice was coming from?"

"It's a talent of mine, ventriloquism. But let's not talk of me, anymore. Ms. Davis, I want to talk about you."

"Yeah, what do you want with me?"

"You have a beautiful voice."

I snorted. "Yeah, so I've been told."

"No, I mean it, you really do have something quite extraordinary. You used to perform in the theater not long ago, did you not?"  
>"I did."<p>

"Why did you stop performing?"  
>"I wasn't getting good roles, so I stuck to doing costuming."<p>

"Do you like singing?"  
>I closed my eyes and sighed. "Yes, I love singing. But if it's not getting me anywhere, then I need to keep practicing the craft I can do well."<p>

"Usually, I can understand that. But not in this case. You're voice is very versatile, and it sounds lovely no matter what you sing. The only problem is: is that it's clearly untrained. All you need are lessons, Ms. Davis, and you could go far in the theater."

"Is that all you have to say to me? I've heard all of this before."

"I'm sure you have, but I have something I can offer you. I want to give you singing lessons."

I looked in the direction of the orchestra pit, not believing what I had just heard.

"You want to give me lessons." I said, "Really now?"  
>"Yes, I do."<p>

"Okay, first, I don't know who you are. Second, I don't know how experienced you are. And third, I don't know if money will be an issue or not."

"Let me address all of those things, Ms. Davis. The reason why I can't tell you who I am is because I'm a performer, musician, and playwright. I'm very famous around the world, and I value my privacy. I came here to Belleview to get away from all that madness, and that is why I can't tell you who I am. I don't want word going around that I'm here, and if someone were to ask you who you're taking lessons from, then you won't honestly know. That ignorance is good for both of us. As for my experience, I have read many texts and have gone to college. I have a degree in music, and like I said, I am a musician. And as for money, I don't want anything. I just want to be able to train you."

"There has to be a catch." I said, "Tell me where the catch is."

"There isn't a catch. Now, I have _guidelines_ that I want us to conduct our business on," he admitted, "but there isn't a catch. I am willing to work with you everyday for an hour, here at the theater when everyone has gone home. But you must keep our lessons a secret, and I expect your full devotion during those hours. I know you're a hard worker though, so I don't believe that is a problem. Yet when I say not to tell anyone about these lessons, I mean it. If you say a word about me or our meetings to anyone, our deal is void. So, what do you say, Ms. Davis?"

"How long will I have these lessons?"  
>"Until I think you're ready to perform. I'm willing to make a commitment to you, if only you will do the same for me."<p>

"But why are you doing this?"

"Because I think you have a God given gift, and something like that shouldn't be wasted. Look, I'm not asking you to make a decision at this moment. Take your time with this if you need to. And now," He sighed, "I must leave you."

"Wait!" I called, "How will I be able to find you?"

"You won't find me, Ms. Davis." He said, "I'll find you. Have a goodnight."

"Hold on! Sir, please!"

I leaned down into the pit to stop him, but he was gone by then. I pulled myself back and sat up on the stage, shaking my head. I really wanted to take these lessons, but was trusting this guy really a good idea? He sounded like he was a legit person and artist, but nowadays, how could you tell with things like that?

I decided I would sleep on it, and make my decision the next day. I ate the rest of my dinner and stayed to finish up the alterations on the dresses. When that was done I put everything away, grabbed my purse, and as I was walking out the lobby doors, I took out my cell phone to call Richard.

"Hey!" He said, after only a few rings, "You're almost an hour early on calling me. Did something happen?"

"No," I lied, "that's why I just left the theater now. I waited for a while, but nothing eventful happened. So I decided to let it remain a mystery."

And as he bought my lie, I felt relieved that at least I didn't need acting lessons.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Leap of Faith

_Erik's Diary: June 13__th_

_ As I write these words in my room tonight, I think one thing over and over again:_

_What the hell am I doing? _

_ For the past twelve years of my life I have only had contact with two people: Amy Gardens and Nathan Gardens. They took me in after the accident happened, after my life changed forever. I hadn't been around any other people, and I was content with that—until I saw Christy Davis almost two weeks ago. _

_ I had refrained from writing any of this down, in case it would reinforce me to act upon my thoughts. But I ignored my logic in the end, and followed my gut instead. And again I think:_

_What the hell am I doing?_

_ It all happened as detailed in the following. Mrs. Gardens came to visit me two weeks ago, warning me not to send any more letters to Candice. As terrible an actress as she is, I can't deny Mrs. Gardens anything, and she seemed very distressed about the matter. We agreed that I wouldn't send any notes for a few weeks, and then we continued to discuss the theater. To my surprise, Christy Davis was given the position of costume mistress, since Tina Harrison (the woman who held the position before her) was now studying her craft abroad… which I had suggested to her in a letter. But this was before I learned that Ms. Davis would be hired for a replacement. _

_ I had objected at first, saying that she was just a kid at the age of seventeen. But Mrs. Gardens reminded me that I was that age when she was putting on my shows… and had been doing so three years prior. I decided to give her a chance, but I was going to watch her, to see what she was capable of._

_ The next day I dressed in my black clothes, and hid up in the catwalk. People started to arrive, for it was almost nine in the morning, but they took no notice of me. I watched the ballet girls make their way to the dance studio, to get ready for their rehearsal for_ Swan Lake_. As I studied little Abby, the youngest of the professional troupe going backstage, that was when I heard the voice of Maggie Gardens, talking to two friends of hers._

_ "So, where do you want to eat today during break?" She asked._

_ I turned to look at her, and that was when I saw two other people with her. One was a young man, about her age, wearing jeans and a white t-shirt. Maggie, of course, was wearing her leotard with green sweats over it. But then there was another woman there, who caught my eye. I ignored the rest of their conversation as I gazed at her, studying her features._

_ She had blonde hair that came down past her shoulders, and sky blue eyes. Her complexion, slightly tanned from the summer sun, was flawless without a freckle or blemish. She was wearing a form fitting orange shirt with a brown tank underneath. Jeans encased her legs in denim, and on her small feet she was wearing gold ballet flats. As I took notice of that she smiled at something her friend said, and I moved back to her face again. _

_ Finally she disappeared from my sight, yet something about her intrigued me. I then remembered that the new costume mistress would be arriving at any moment, and I moved to a different part of the catwalk so I could see the costume door. To my surprise the young blonde walked in, and shut the door behind her. _

_ At that moment I matched her blue eyes to the young, clumsy Christy Davis I had seen years, or maybe it had been months, ago. Mrs. Gardens had been right, she had definitely grown up. Her hair had once been cut short all the time, and she had, had freckles all over her face. Now I could see she grew out of those two things, and had morphed into a graceful young lady. Though I had not been around many women in my life, even I could tell she was beautiful._

_ That day when the lunch hour hit, she walked out of the costume room and down to the stage. No one was around yet, for practice was running late, and she stood there waiting for her friends. She looked around for a while, and then carefully, moved out onto center stage. It was then I first heard her voice:_

"So it goes, history shows

Deserts must expand

Candles sail like

Wooden ships like

Women on the strand

There's sand on Second Avenue

And the, wind blows like a train

And taxis line up like a string of pearls

Around the block again"

_I gasped hearing her sing. Her tone was beautiful, pure, and she was hitting all the notes correctly. I leaned in, continuing to listen to her:_

"And I remember everything

And every windowpane

And every word came back to me

The way it used to be

Then I saw your face, across the street

And my heart was home again…"

_I pushed my hair back, utterly surprised that I hadn't heard her on stage before. But as I kept listening, the answer why was clear; she had, had no training what so ever. She was breathy in some places, which told me she wasn't breathing properly. She wasn't enunciating some words correctly (for a trained singer) and her voice wasn't as powerful as it could be. But she had the emotion and raw talent to be able to do well, that much I could hear. And those were two things that couldn't be taught…_

"There's a bus that leaves at eight sixteen

And another one at ten

Should I climb aboard, risk everything?

And ride it to the end

You said love breaks everything

And none of us survive

But I got over you last night

And I am still alive"

_ Then she grew quiet, and took another step forward. I could hear what she wanted, I could hear the many questions she had, in that song. And then, there was the ending, so pure and sweet, that my throat swelled up:_

"Then I saw your face, across the street

And my heart was home…

Again"

_At that moment the doors to the dance studio opened, and the ballet girls rushed out for the break. She turned around in shock, and Maggie with her companion from earlier, came running toward her. _

_ Soon everyone was gone, and I made my way back to my underground home. I tried to push her from my mind, trying to forget the God given beauty I had heard in her voice. But I sat at the piano in the music room thinking about her, replaying the sound of her voice in my head. _

_ That night her voice followed me into my dreams, and I woke up twice sweating with a dull pain in my face. I did everything I could the next few days to ignore the memory of her, from writing plays, to composing music, to brushing up on old scores that I hadn't touched in months. It was all mundane though, for I relearned everything so quickly. It was all old to me. And it was then when I would think those thoughts, that I found myself drifting back to her again. _

_ Four days later, after our first encounter, is when the idea popped into my head. What if I could give her singing lessons? I was experienced enough after all, and I knew my voice and musicality were enough to handle the task. And again, the though runs through my head:_

_What the hell am I doing?_

_ I forced the idea from me, but the thought still found a way of coming back in. I can't remember the exact time I decided I would offer her lessons, but I knew that it was after hours of agonizing thought. I had to take a gamble with this girl. I couldn't let such beauty and potential slip away from me. I knew I could make her into something great, and have her rise above any other performers in the theater._

_ It was the next Friday, when I overheard from the catwalk that she would be staying late at the theater. I had begun to wait for her up there, in hopes of hearing her sing again on stage. But that hadn't happened… yet the chance to offer her the lessons had. For the next two hours I stood there, waiting, and that's when I saw her come out on stage, carrying costumes and a sewing box._

_ I observed her actions as she set the items down, and then walked away to go find something to sit on. She came back out with a wooden chair, and started her needlework on the dresses again. Finally, after a few minutes, she started singing _Somewhere _from _Westside Story_._

_ I leaned against the railing, gazing at her as she sang. She simply glowed when she did so, her face lighting up. She stood from her chair during the crescendo of the song, and afterwards, continued to hold the final note like an opera star. That was when she ended the song._

_ Suddenly she began staring at something, and I wondered what she could've been looking at. But as I followed her line of sight, it hit me, that she was staring at me. That was when she screamed and fell back._

_ Before she could get up, I ran off that area of the catwalk and flew down the stairs. Hoping she wouldn't discover me, I hid behind a pile of backdrops, where I stayed until I heard her leave out the lobby. Again, cue the thought:_

_What the hell am I doing?_

_ I walked back to my room, and decided the next time I saw her alone; I had to offer her the lessons. I didn't know why I had been taking so many chances with being discovered, for I never risked my identity like this. But if someone else had heard an undiscovered angel's voice, they would do some crazy things too._

_ During the weekend I pondered what I was going to tell her. I thought about telling her I was a cousin of Maggie, who was a music professor at Yale. Of course I realized how full of flaws that idea was, and finally came up with a new story: I was a famous playwright and musician, trying to hide from my fame. If I didn't give her any hint of my identity then she couldn't check to see if that fact was true or not. There are so many musicians in the world; making up one certainly couldn't hurt. _

_ To make a long story short, I did talk to her on Monday, and told her of my proposition. She bought my story (I think) and I'm still here now, so I know for a fact she didn't call the police. She said she would think about the free lessons, and I persuaded her to take her time. But I'm sure I'll hear from her tomorrow, or the next day. She's too curious to let this offer pass her by._

_ I should be satisfied now, knowing that I at least got her to hear me out. But something about Christy Davis still unsettles me, and makes my stomach churn. Something about her makes me realize how young I really am, and how old she's gotten. Something about her makes me think, _"We're only two years a part in our age."

_And again the thought comes:_

_What the hell am I doing?_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Dim the Stage lights

I decided to say yes to the offer. It was Tuesday, the morning after the man had given me the option of taking lessons from him, and I was walking up to the crosswalk to see Maggie and Richard. I knew I could've taken my time to think the offer through (or should've taken the time) but I had to fully commit myself to lie to Mags and Rich the moment I first saw them after my second encounter with… whoever the man was. No, I never like lying to my friends, but I couldn't risk losing this chance I had for myself.

To my surprise, Maggie was the only one at the crosswalk.

"Where's Richard?" I asked, running up to her before the light changed.

"I have no idea." She answered, "He must've slept in or something. So, seriously, nothing happened last night?"

"Nope, nothing." I said, "Which kinda ticks me off, since I spent a good two and a half hours up there. BUT," I turned to her, "I do have interesting news, nonetheless."

"What?"

"Richard asked me out yesterday."

She let out a squeal of delight. "OHMYGOD! He did?"

"Yes. We're going to a movie on Friday."

"I knew it!" She giggled, clapping her hands, "I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!"

"Knew what?"  
>"Oh come on Chris. He's had a crush on you ever since seventh grade. Don't tell me you couldn't see it!"<p>

"I thought he always liked you."

"Please! We've been more like brother and sister than anything. You were always the one he was smitten with. I mean, really now, why do you think he didn't date anyone while he was living in town? You know that girls were falling all over him, and he could've picked any one of them to go out with."

"It just never occurred to me, Maggie."

"Well, do you like him back?"

I shrugged. "I really don't know. I've just always thought of him as a friend. But the possibility could be there. We'll just have to see how Friday goes."

"And I'll come over with you after rehearsal gets out, and we'll pick out a cute outfit for you! We'll do your hair, your makeup… you'll be the prettiest girl in Belleview by the time—oh, look! It's Richard!"

I looked up ahead at the theater, and there he was, leaning against the wall waiting for us. I could see he was holding a large cup of McCafé coffee in his hand, and as I walked up the stairs to greet him, he held it out for me.

"For you, Chris." He offered.

"Aw, thanks Rich." I said, taking it out of his hand. I took a sip of it, and smiled over the lid at him. "You got me a white mocha latté, my favorite."

"Anything for the girl with the red coat." He turned to look at Maggie. "I would've gotten you something, but I know you don't drink coffee when you're doing a show."

"Don't worry about me." She said, "Just take care of your girlfriend." She slapped his arm playfully, and he gaped at her. I burst out laughing.

"Slow down Maggie." I said, "We're just going to the movies."

"Yeah, sure." She giggled, "Now come on, let's get to rehearsal."

But as she moved ahead of us, we fell back behind her to talk privately.

"I'm glad you're okay." He said, "I'm happy that nothing happened to you."

"It was an utter bore actually." I admitted, "But on a good note, I did finish the dresses up."

"Good for you. Now you can walk home with Mags and I."

"Actually, I can't tonight." Now was the time to come up with another lie. "Another theater wants to borrow costumes from us, and I have to pull them. And I won't have time today, since Mrs. Gardens wants me to take inventory of what we have for suits."

"Crap, that's three racks of costumes…"

"Stuffed to the brim, I know. At least I don't have to make alterations on any costumes for the guys in the show. How is it that when a guy tries something on, it fits them perfectly, yet when a girl tries on something, it has to be fixed somehow?"  
>"There are elements on a female that makes some things harder to fit for." I felt his hand brush up against mine. "But of course, if all the girls looked like you, they'd look good in anything and that wouldn't be a problem."<p>

I felt my face grow hot, and I nervously twirled the class ring on my finger. "Richard, you flatter me too much."  
>"And you deserve flattery, my dear."<p>

We got on stage, to see that Maggie was waiting for Richard. "Stop flirting." She ordered, "Mrs. Dublin wants to start rehearsal _now_."

"All right, let's get going." He sighed, starting to walk away. But I saw him glance back at me. "See you for lunch, Chris."

I smiled. "See you for lunch, Richard."

I won't lie; I was enjoying Richard's attention towards me. Lunch that day was at _McDonald's_ again, where he made a big show of letting me slide into the booth first, and offering to get a small cup of ketchup for me. I hadn't realized how much he did like me until that day, where Maggie would catch him staring at me if we were just having girl talk. We both would burst into fits of giggles realizing this, and he would break out of his trance and say, "Hey, what's the joke?"

But the real question was, did I want to date him? I was still unsure about that, but I knew Friday would probably hold the answer. And if it didn't, I knew it wouldn't hurt going on another date with him.

The day passed quickly, between thinking of Richard and the mysterious man, and soon six o'clock rolled up. I was still putting the suits back on the racks when Richard walked into the costume room.

"Hey," He said, "Maggie and I are heading out now. Do you need anything before I go?"  
>"No, I'll only be here for an hour or so." I guessed.<p>

"All right. But if you feel like it, you can call me later."

I smiled. "You know I always do, Rich."

"Yeah, I know."

He walked over then and wrapped his arms around my middle from behind me.

"Backwards hug!" I exclaimed happily.

"Backwards hug!" He cried back, "Man, you remember that from sixth grade?"

"I do." I said, "It was national hug day, and I came up from behind you yelling that."

"It scared the crap out of me, but now I see why you did it. It's a nice type of hug." He chuckled, stepping back. "Have a good night, Chris. Don't be here too late."

"I won't. Have a good night Richard."

He walked toward the door, taking one more glance at me, and then left. I waited a few more minutes, to give them time to leave, and then I walked down to the stage.

I turned on the lights, like yesterday, and stood center stage waiting for the man to show up.

"Okay, so, do I have to sing to make you come out here?" I asked.

"That would be nice, but no."

Again, there his voice was, running along the theater walls like silk ribbons in the wind. I looked around, trying to see him, but again I couldn't for the life of me figure out where his voice was coming from.

"Seriously," I said, "are you not going to show yourself?"

"It depends on what happens in the next few moments." He said, "Have you come to me with a decision on my offer?"

"Yes." I stated.

"And what have you decided?"

I took a deep breath before speaking the next words. "I'll do it, and follow your conditions."

"Excellent." He said, "Now, Ms. Davis, I need you to do me a favor."

"Yes?"

"I'm going to show myself to you now, and I want no questions about my appearance. I'm going to enter stage right. Are you ready to see me?"

"Yes, of course I am."

"Then, look." I turned toward that direction, and that was when he stepped out of the shadows.

The first thing that caught my attention was the white porcelain mask on his face. It covered about eighty percent of it, except for his mouth and bit of jaw line. He was oddly pale, something you don't see in Florida, and was a little over six feet tall. But what was amazing to me was that he had this, what else can I call it, dancer's body. He was well muscled, and he moved with this grace that I had never seen another male carry. On any other guy it might've made them seem feminine, but on him, he looked powerful. He had short, dark hair that was combed down, and the blue tee he was wearing made his navy colored eyes pop out at me. He wore jeans too that were dark washed, and black tennis shoes.

Looking at him made me scared and curious all at the same time. Never had I seen anyone as alluring as him. It made me super conscious of how I looked, wearing just jeans and a brown tank with ballet flats.

"So, you're a performer, huh?" I asked, trying to keep myself from staring at him.

"Yes." He answered, his cool glance seeming to cut through me.  
>"Well, I'm very excited to be working with you." I said, "Forgive me, I know this will sound rude, but how old are you exactly? I can't really tell with…" I motioned toward the mask, thinking that he might explode if I said anything directly. <em>I want no questions on my appearance.<em>

"Twenty-seven." He said, "And you're seventeen, right?"

"Yes sir."

"No, not sir. Sir would be what I would say to my father."

"Then, what should I call you then?"

"Call me anything you like. Pick a name for me, since I can't tell you my real identity. Call me something that is comfortable to you."

"Okay then." I thought to myself, _Someone like him should have a handsome name._ And then, it popped into my head. "How about Desmond?"

He nodded in approval. "Desmond it is then. I like it. Very good choice, Ms. Davis."

"I'm glad you like it. And, you don't need to call me Ms. Davis. Just call me Chris."

"You don't want to be called Christy?"

"No. I hate that name. Its just Chris."

"Okay, just Chris, let's talk about these lessons. Would having them after your shift here work for you?"

"You know, I really don't know." I confessed, "You see, I have two friends of mine who like to walk home with me everyday…."

"Yes, Maggie and that man. Go on."

"Well, they would think it was weird if I stopped doing that. Is there a way that I could come back at, maybe eight o'clock or so, and then we could have our lessons until nine?"

He looked down and crossed his arms. "I suppose we could do that. I see what you mean. It would be odd if you kept staying past your shift here. That's fine."

"Great! Would I be coming here every day?"

"Only Monday through Thursday. After all, a performer needs rest, or they'll get burned out."

I shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so."

"We don't want to tire your voice, Chris. Now, come with me into the orchestra pit. I believe there is a piano down there, yes?"

"There is."

"Good. How well can you read music?"

"Pretty well. I took piano lessons for eight years."

"You can play?"

"Yes."  
>"That's perfect. You should have a good musical ear then; pitch shouldn't be a problem for you."<p>

"I certainly hope not."

We walked over to the orchestra pit, and climbed down the wooden ladder that was attached to the wall. The orchestra pit was pretty big, made to seat thirty to fifty instrumentalists. In the corner of pit was where we kept the seventy-year-old piano, which was well maintained and had been used for every musical since the 1940's. It wasn't exactly a nice piano; it was more like one you would find in a school choir room. The only two things that really made it valuable were its age and condition. Desmond walked over there to lay his hand against the polished, brown wood and after looking it over, sat down on the wooden bench.

"It's a beautiful instrument." He said, "Don't you think so?"  
>"Yes." I agreed, "It's very beautiful."<p>

"That it is. Now, I want to get a good feel for what your range is. I'm going to play a few notes for you, and I want you to sing them back to me on bah. Keep your throat open, and relax your shoulders, all right? Don't let them go up when you breathe."

"Then how am I supposed to get air?"

"There's a pocket in your lower stomach muscles called the diaphragm. Let that fill up with air. Your stomach and sides will go out, but your shoulders won't go up. As soon as you learn to breathe in that way you'll open up endless possibilities for your voice. Now, sing on bah, please."

As he played up the scale I did as he asked, trying to relax and get the muscles working as he asked. I could feel some air go in them, but it was still difficult to do. Finally when I had hit my highest and lowest note, he stopped.

"Well," He said, "you are definitely a mezzo soprano with some really good high and low notes. That's why you're so versatile in your singing." He looked over his shoulder in my direction… but without looking at me. "You understand all I just said, right?"  
>"Yeah, I know what a mezzo soprano is. I was in my school's choir."<p>

"Good, I can use actual music terminology with you. I like having a smart pupil."

"Have you taught anyone else before?"

"No, but I am a theater and music critic, so I do know what I'm talking about. And by the way, I can tell you were trying with your breathing. I can hear some improvement."

"Thank you."  
>"But, you need to work on it, and learn to not let all the air rush out. Learn to keep those muscles out as long as possible, and to keep your sound focused. I want you to practice getting your lungs and sides full of air, and then blowing that air out in a single, steady line. See if you can let that stream go on for ten seconds, then twenty seconds… and the goal is to be able to do it for forty seconds."<br>"Are you mad? I'll suffocate!"  
>"Not true. I wouldn't be telling you to do these things if I didn't think you could do it. I want you to practice that for tomorrow, and then show me what you can do."<p>

"Do you want me to be able to do it for twenty seconds or something like that?"  
>"No, just do your best. I know you want this, so I know you will." He got up from the piano bench and began to walk towards the ladder. "Tomorrow I will give you music, but not tonight. Remember, be here at eight o'clock tomorrow. If you are late then that'll not bode well for you. I have a lot to do, and we can't waste time."<p>

"Wait!" I cried, "So, we're done for today?"  
>"Only because we don't have music for you." He said, "But tomorrow, expect for us to use the full hour."<p>

"Yes. And, thank you Desmond. For agreeing to help me."

He shrugged and began to climb up the ladder. "No, don't thank me. It's only because of your talent I'm doing this."

I watched as he disappeared over the edge of the pit, and then followed him. "But I know that you're busy, and that it takes a lot of patience to…" But I didn't finish my sentence, because when I finally pulled myself back on the stage, I realized he was gone. He had disappeared into the darkness of the theater just like the first night I had met him.

Right away I could tell that this would be a frequent occurrence.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: Voice Over

Amy sighed, walking into her house on Cobbler Street. Usually Wednesdays were calm at the theater, but not today. One of the stagehands had broken his leg surfing, and she had been calling around trying to find a replacement all the day. After leaving ten or so messages for various people, six o'clock had come, and it was time to go home.

Walking into the house she could hear Nathan, her doting husband, in the kitchen working on supper. She knew one of these days she had to cook for him for once, but that day wouldn't be coming during the summer months—the busiest time for the theater.

Instead all she could do was sweep quietly behind him and kiss his cheek, as he ground beef for tacos on the stove.

"Hi honey." He said, turning around to embrace her. "How did things go at the theater?"

"Eh, there was a minor setback." She sighed, leaning against his chest. She always did that when she felt exhausted.

"Uh-oh. What?"  
>"Fred Travers broke his leg surfing, and he won't be able to work for the entire summer."<br>"That's not good."  
>"No, that's not." She walked over to the cabinet to take out two wine glasses, then to the fridge to pour themselves a bottle of wine. "I need people for the next two and a half months. And I'm having a lot of trouble trying to find someone who's not on vacation."<p>

"Well, just try again tomorrow dear." He set the stovetop on low heat, and put a lid over the pan, "You'll find someone." He walked over to her as she poured a glass, and he accepted the one she handed him.

"I know I'll find someone, it's just very frustrating when things like this happen." She finally poured some wine for herself, and they waked over to the island bar to talk for the evening. "Where's Maggie, by the way?"  
>"Upstairs reading. I had to force her out of the studio a few minutes ago."<p>

"What was she doing?"  
>"Practicing for <em>Swan Lake<em>."

"My goodness, that girl all ready has eight hour rehearsals!" She exclaimed. "She's going to end up overworking herself."

"Just like her mother." Nathan pointed out.

Amy pushed her hair back out of her eyes, nodding. "Yes, I know I do, Nate. But I love working at the theater, and sometimes when I get going, I can't stop. And on top of that, I like being around in case Erik needs me. He started having the nightmares and face pain again."

Hearing this Nathan stiffened, and he took another swig of wine. "_Shit_." He hissed, "Not again."

"He didn't tell me until a few weeks ago, but apparently he's been having pains for the past three months."

"Damn, damn, damn!" He stood up. "We need to get him to therapy, Amy. Or put him in a home for people like him."

"What do you mean, a home for people like him? You mean somewhere for unstable or troubled young adults?"

"Not exactly, but like an institution or reform house."  
>"Nathan he's not some kind of drug user or cutter! He's someone who had a terrible, terrible thing happen in his childhood! He's still trying to find answers and deal with it! In a sense he's just a kid!"<p>

"He'll be twenty or twenty-one in a few months."

"And where were you when you were twenty Nate? You were in college, trying to figure out how life worked. You were known as a college _kid_. Erik is going through the same thing, trying to find his place on Earth. Except, he has it harder because of what happened to him, and because of how unique he is! Let's face it, he's smarter than you and I combined, and has more talent than all of the artists I know. He all ready has forty plays published, and a roomful of music composed."

"Yes, he's very successful and has made good money off of that, but what about his mental and emotional state? How's he going to do with that when we can't protect him?"  
>"We're not protecting him; we're helping him cope. You know what the world is like. He has the most beautiful voice in the world, but since he doesn't have a pretty face to put with that voice… it means nothing."<p>

"He can't use his face as an excuse."  
>"For God sake, he doesn't Nathan. He tries hard to get by in this life. But you know what lies beneath his mask."<br>"I know, but still…"  
>"You threw up when you saw his face for the first time. We cried, and it traumatized us. Now, if the nightmares get worse like they did before, we'll deal with it then. But for now, let the matter be done with."<p>

"He can't stay under our wing forever."

"Nathan, just stop. He has four more years with us; that was the agreement we had. And we'll always be his guardians. That is a job that's never over."

"Well, I can't argue with that." He stood up then and walked over to the fridge. "Amy, you must understand, I only get upset with the situation because I hate to see you worry about him… and I hate to see him go through what he does."

"I know darling. It's difficult for everyone."

He took out some lettuce and began to chop it up on a cutting board. "Yes, it certainly is."

An hour later Nathan, Amy, and Maggie were sitting in the dining room, settling down for dinner. As they were passing the food around, Maggie took an envelope out of her jean pocket.

"Mags, what's that?" Amy asked, eyeing it.  
>"I found it in my dance locker today." She replied, "I didn't tell you or Dad about it earlier because I wanted to wait till everyone was in one spot."<p>

"Tell everyone what?" Nathan said.

"That I got a letter from the Theater Ghost. He even left three Hershey bars!" She clapped her hands excitedly. "Almost every one of the ballet girls has gotten a letter. I was the last one to not get one!"

"What?" Amy said, sitting up more, "Maggie, how often do the company members get these letters?"  
>"Oh, at least twice a week, all from the Theater Ghost. He critiques us, and gives us great advice. Most of the company keeps his letters. It's like, once the Theater Ghost notices you, that's when you know you're really good… or really bad. You know what kind of letters he sends to Candice after all. And now I finally got my letter!"<p>

"What does it say?"  
>Maggie took the paper out of the envelope, and unfolded. Holding it close to her face, she began reading aloud:<p>

"Dear Ms. Gardens,

It seems this letter to you is long overdue. You have proved yourself in your talent recently and I congratulate you. Not many young women can dance with the skill and grace you have, and that says a lot about you. You seem to be an extremely hard worker, and I can tell you love your craft.

If I had any suggestion for you, it would be to have more confidence. You are an extremely good dancer and you deserve this role. Give yourself a break now and then, keep your health up, and you'll do fine. I can't wait to see your performance opening night. After that evening, you'll be the toast of Belleview.

Break a leg, and I'll be at the first show.

Sincerely, the Theater Ghost"

At that moment Nathan laughed, trying to sound natural. "Oh well, if the Ghost is going to send you notes like that, then he's welcome to critique you anytime."

"It's funny how people are so afraid of him!" Maggie giggled, "There's no record of him hurting anyone, and he seems gentlemanly enough. It's funny, how we are afraid of what we don't know."

Amy smiled, shaking her head. _The things we hear out of the mouths of babes_. She thought. Just then the phone rang in the kitchen, and she stood up to answer it.

"I'll be right back guys." She said, walking into the next room. She picked up the receiver that was attached to the wall and put it to her ear. "Hello?"  
>"Mrs. Gardens."<p>

Amy froze where she was standing, in shock of hearing Erik's voice. Quickly she closed the kitchen door and leaned back against it. Her heart began to thump wildly in worry. He rarely called her at her home, and the only time he did, was if someone had broken into the theater or there had been another emergency like that.

"Erik, are you all right?" She inquired, "Is the theater fine?"  
>"Yes," He said softly, "there's just something I need to tell you."<p>

"What is it?"

"It's a matter that has to do with Christy Davis."

She put her hand on her hip and sighed. "Erik, I know you don't approve of her working there, but I'm not going to…"

"Hear me out, please. I do approve of her work actually, and I encourage you to keep her in your employment. I just found out something very—peculiar, about her."

"What's peculiar?"  
>"Mrs. Gardens, she has the voice of an angel. Your little costume mistress can actually <em>sing<em>." She started; surprised that he actually mentioned her voice.

"Yes, she can sing. I have known this for quite a while."

"Then why haven't you put her in more roles?"

"Well, first off, I can't put her in more shows because of Candice's family. You know that they make healthy donations to us each year as a theater, and if they're little girl wasn't on stage I would lose those donations. Secondly, whenever she is in a role, people come. This actress simply makes money."  
>"It's because the theater audience does not know any better, that they pay to see her." He grumbled.<p>

She smiled. "Yes, I have to agree with you there. But it's not just that, Erik. Chris does have a lovely voice, this is true, but she is untrained. And for some reason she hasn't gotten lessons."  
>"She can't find them. She's told me she's looked."<p>

"Wait!" She cried, "She's _told_ you she's looked? As in, she talked to you?"

"I was hoping that I could actually explain that to you as we went along, Mrs. Gardens."

"Oh no, I think you'll explain it now. When did you talk to her?"

"Tonight and last night."

"And how did this come about?"

"To make a long story short: I heard her voice, offered her lessons, and she accepted."

She reeled back in surprise. "YOU DID WHAT?" She gasped.

"I offered the girl lessons." He said calmly, "She doesn't know who I am. She just thinks that I am a performer hiding from my fame. She doesn't even know my name, or that I live in the theater."

"How do you expect to pull this off, Erik?" She hissed.  
>"I'm seeing her at night, from eight o'clock, to nine in the theater. We're having lessons four times a week, Monday through Thursday, and she has agreed to not ask about my appearance or my identity. That's the deal we made."<p>

"What makes you think you can take on a pupil?"

"That's for me to know, and for you to find out. By the end of the month you watch. She'll be able to do title roles and, if she can't all ready, out sing most of your company. She has raw talent, Mrs. Gardens. Her voice is simply the most beautiful instrument I have ever heard."

"There's no way you can pull this off. You can go ahead and use my theater after hours, but you won't be able to make her into a star in the next two weeks."

She heard him laugh softly. "Watch me."

And before she could say another word, the line went dead.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: Sound Rush

I did the breathing exercise Desmond taught me nonstop. When I got home from the theater and I couldn't sleep, I did it while vacuuming the house, cleaning the kitchen, and before bed. When I got up the next morning I practiced it over and over again, while I got ready to go to the theater. As soon as I left the house I realized I had been doing it so much, that my muscles were sore.

I saw Maggie at the crosswalk, and I ran to her. "Hey Mags!"

She turned around, and waved happily. Soon we were crossing the street together, and I could tell by the way she was rubbing her hands together she had something to tell me.

"Chris it finally happened." She said.

"What finally happened?" I asked.

"I got a letter from the Theater Ghost!"

I smiled. "Did you now?"

"Yes! He sent me a letter, telling me I was an excellent dancer! He suggested I take care of myself though, and have more confidence."  
>"He's right. You are a great dancer, and have nothing to worry about."<p>

"Thanks. It's just, I still can't believe I got a letter. All the ballet girls, and guys, in our troupe received theirs before I did… even Jamie! It's like a rite of passage almost."

Suddenly from behind me I heard, "Let me guess, you're talking about the Theater Ghost, right?"

I turned around to see Richard, and he gave a smile. "Hey Rich."

"Hey, Chris. So, what's going on now with the Ghost?"  
>"I got a letter from him!" Maggie said, "And he apparently thinks I'm good dancer."<p>

"Well, he's right about that. It's just funny how we're becoming believers of this specter more and more each day… and we've also being hearing a lot about him recently."

"I know." She agreed, "Most of the time we only get a letter or so each week, but two letters and a sighting? We haven't had an actual sighting in over two years."

"It's funny how the activity started picking up when Chris came into the theater."

"Maybe I'm disrupting his energy." I joked.

"Or maybe the Ghost has a crush on you!" Maggie laughed.

"Well, why wouldn't he?" Richard said, "It's just too bad that he can't have her." He looked down at me, his eyes shining with affection, and I felt myself beaming right back up at him.

We arrived at the theater and went our separates ways. I tried to not do the breathing exercise while I worked, but I found resistance to it useless. Desmond had been right, I did want to improve my singing, and I would work nonstop to make that happen for me. I would sit and sew while doing the exercise occasionally, being careful to not get myself light headed in the effort.

"So, what movie do you want to go see tomorrow?" Richard asked me hours later as we sat down to eat at _Panera_.

"I don't know." I admitted, "I actually have no idea what's been out lately."

"Hey," Maggie began, "why not go see an old movie then? The movie theater in town is playing eighties movies this weekend. On Friday night they're doing _Footloose_."

"Man, I cannot resist me some _Footloose_!" Rich said, "What about you, Chris?"  
>"Like I'm going to refuse Kevin Bacon?" I scoffed, "Really, Rich. I thought you knew me better than that."<br>"Well, if you're going just to see Kevin Bacon, maybe I better think of something else." He teased.

"Or, maybe I better not go out with you." I kidded back.

"Ooo, I guess I have no choice then," he sighed, "_Footloose_ it is. Maggie, is it the ten o'clock showing, or the eight o'clock?"  
>"It's the eight o'clock one." She said, "I was going to go this weekend myself, but I thought it might be a better idea to just stay home and chill."<p>

"I second that," I said, "especially since you've been working so hard lately. Thanks for the idea though."

"Nah, you guys just go and have fun."

Richard smiled at her, and then looked at me. "How about I pick you up at seven, so we can grab a bite to eat?"

"That's good enough for me." I said.

Now, I had two things to be excited about. One: my date with Richard. Two: working with Desmond later that evening. I was wondering what songs he would pick for me, and if I would know any of them. With Richard, I was wondering how Friday night would go. There were so many possibilities for both things, and as I was throwing away old, unfixable costumes, I barely noticed that it was six o'clock.

"Hey Chris!"

I turned around to see Richard leaning against the doorway. "How long have you been standing there?" I asked.

"Only a few minutes." He said, "I like watching you work. Hey, did you hear what Mrs. Gardens said?"

"What'd she say?"  
>"Well, since we're ahead of schedule for <em>Swan Lake<em>, she and Mrs. Dublin are letting us out at five tomorrow. It's their gift to us before things get crazy the next two weeks."

"That's great. I thought I would have to rush getting ready for our date."  
>"Yeah, me too."<p>

I took a deep breath and gathered my things. "I can't believe the show's in two weeks." I said.

"Me either. I am so happy I got to be the stage manger for this. It's been fun, working with everyone around here, and then getting to hang out with you and Maggie. Will you be at the shows?"

"Yeah, of course. I am the costume mistress after all. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday I'll be there."

"You're lucky that the ballet girls are so sufficient themselves." He mentioned, "They usually help each other out with their costumes and makeup."

"I know. I'm just going to be there for supervision, in case something happens."

He laughed. "Oh Chris, on your watch, it never does."

At last we walked down to the stage, where Maggie was waiting for us. Then we made our way out of the theater, and crossed the street, where Richard parted ways with the two of us. When he was gone, Maggie turned to me excitedly.

"So, did you know Mrs. Dublin is letting us leave an hour early tomorrow?" She asked.

"Yeah," I said, "Richard told me."

"Oh, well, I guessed he would. Anyway, is it still cool if I come over tomorrow to help you pick out an outfit?"

"I don't see why not."

"Great. And by the way, Mom asked me to invite you to dinner tonight."

Remembering my voice lesson, I shook my head. "I can't. I have a lot of housework to catch up on."

"Come on Chris, it can wait. After all, you practically have all summer to do it."

"Um, no, I don't think so. With _Swan Lake_ coming up in two weeks, and with things going so well with Richard, I don't see where this time is coming from."

We finally made it to the corner of the block, where I had to keep going straight and Maggie had to turn.

"Just try to not overdo it, okay?" She said, "This is our last summer before we all go off to college and into the adult world. Live a little."

I smiled. "All right Mags, see you tomorrow."

"Bye Chris."

As soon as she was out of sight I ran the rest of the way home, knowing I only had a little over an hour to get myself dinner and then head back to the theater. I made myself a pot of spaghetti, and kept the leftovers for next week, knowing I would probably be in a rush like this again. After I was done eating and cleaning up, I looked up at the clock and realized I had ten minutes to get to the theater.

I grabbed my purse and made my way to my black Camry out in the drive. As soon as I turned the ignition, my CD player started blaring:

"_Out here in the fields_

_I fight for my meals_

_I get my back into my living_

_I don't need to fight_

_To prove I'm right_

_I don't need to be forgiven"_

I turned down The Who song, which was another reminder of my love and ecliptic taste in music. I only had one rule when it came to tunes: if it's good, I'll listen to it. For instance, I knew on this mixed CD the next track was _Let's Get it Started in Here_ by the Black-eyed Peas. I turned the volume up as I drove down the street, and a few minutes later I was in the theater parking lot. The song ended just as I parked, and swinging my door open, I jumped out and ran to the entrance.

I was relieved to find the French doors were unlocked, and I quickly bolted to the stage as soon as I got in. But when I entered the auditorium I stopped, hearing the rich sound of a piano filling the room.

I listened close to hear where it was coming from, and I figured out it was from the orchestra pit. I crept on stage, as not to disturb the player, and then moved silently to the hole. I looked down, and that's where I saw Desmond playing the old piano below. He was wearing a black t-shirt with jeans and converse, and of course he wore his mask. His eyes were closed as he played, as though he was completely lost in the music.

And then, he started singing:

"_Well it's a marvelous night for a moondance _

_With the stars up above in your eyes _

_A fantabulous night to make romance _

_'Neath the cover of October skies _

_And all the leaves on the trees are falling _

_To the sound of the breezes that blow _

_And I'm trying to please to the calling _

_Of your heart-strings that play soft and low _

_You know the night's magic _

_Seems to whisper and hush _

_And all the soft moonlight _

_Seems to shine in your blush"_

I felt my mouth drop open as he sang. I simply could not believe his voice. It was strong, and smooth, with a slight vibrato. It was rich, while not being sickeningly over powering. He sounded playful and very, very sensual. Never had I heard a voice like this. It was one of those voices I liked to call a 'rock opera voice'. As in, the guy could make anything sound good, and his tone could fit in any genre. From musical to jazz, to classical and pop… it sounded like he could do it. I felt myself drawn to him as he played and sang, and I carefully climbed down the ladder to be closer to the music.

"_Can I just have one a' more moondance with you, my love _

_Can I just make some more romance with a' you, my love _

_Well I wanna make love to you tonight _

_I can't wait till the morning has come _

_And I know now the time is just right _

_And straight into my arms you will run _

_And when you come my heart will be waiting _

_To make sure that you're never alone _

_There and then all my dreams will come true dear _

_There and then I will make you my own _

_And every time I touch you, you just tremble inside _

_And I know how much you want me that, you can't hide"_

My heart began pounding wildly as he sang that, and I had to lean against the nearby wall to steady my breathing. What was that exercise he taught me again? Oh yeah, breathe deeply, relax, and let out your air in a controlled manner…

At last, he cut the song so that it came to an end:

"_One more moondance with you _

_Can't I just have one more dance _

_With you my love"_

His fingers ran across the higher keys softly, and he was done. He turned around then, and I suppose he got a glance at my face, because his eyes lit up with amusement.

"Hello Chris." He greeted.

I looked at him dumbly, only uttering, "I see why you're hiding from your fame."

"Oh, you mean this." He motioned toward his throat. "That was nothing. Anyway…" He looked down at a watch on his wrist and sighed. "You're three minutes late."

"Actually, I've been standing here listening to you for three minutes." I said, "Desmond, you're really, really good."

"Thank you. Soon, you'll be better than me."

"No, I doubt that."

"Well if you won't be better, than at least you'll be as good."

"I'd love to get to that point."

He stood from the piano then, and picked up a large blue binder from the top of it. He held it out to me at arm's length, and I took it.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Open it." He said.

I did so, and gasped in surprise. There was tons of sheet music between the plastic covers, with songs that ranged from classical music to tunes from movies. I flipped through the pages, realizing there had to at least be twenty songs.

"Pick a few you like." He said, "The CDs that go with the songs are in the pockets of the binder. We can sing through them during this lesson if you want to."  
>"Sure," I said, "actually, I know the words to most of the movie ones."<p>

"Really? That's good. But I want you to pick a classical one for now, so we can work on your technique. Now, before we do that, I want to see you work your breath." He took the binder out of my hand and set on the piano. Then he stood about two feet away from me, and held his palm about four inches away from my mouth. "Blow your air into a steady line for me, just like we practiced yesterday. Pretend that you are slowly digging a whole into my hand. Go."

I rolled my shoulders back, filled my lungs and sides with air, then blew. I closed my eyes, just focusing on my breathing and not bothering to count. At last I stopped when I felt my chest muscles tighten, and because I didn't want to get light headed.

I opened my eyes, and saw that Desmond was nodding with cool approval.

"Do you know how long you were breathing?" He asked.

"No." I replied, "I don't."

"Thirty seconds, which is miraculous improvement for one day." He stated "But, you have to do the same thing while your singing. If your breath is steady and from the gut while you're singing, then you're notes will be strong and powerful. You'll know you're doing this right when you feel the notes flow out of you and vibrate in your nose. You just have to relax, breathe properly, and let the sound come."

I smiled. "I have a slight feeling that it's going to be harder than that."

"To most people, it is. If singing were easy everyone would be doing it. But there are a lucky few of us who have a gift and passion for it, and we'll do whatever it takes to master it." He walked back over to the piano and picked up the blue binder. "Chris, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to give my professional opinion on which classical songs you should sing. Is that all right?"

"Desmond, after hearing you play and sing, I value your opinion more than anyone else's." I said.

He nodded his thanks to me, and began to look through the binder. After a few minutes of contemplation, he unsnapped the three rings in it and took out three songs. He handed them to me, and I looked them over.

"_The Water is Wide, Who'll Buy My Lavender, _and _American Lullaby_." I noted, "I know the first one, but not the other two."

"We'll sing that one first then." He said, "But first, let's get you warmed up."

He sat down at the piano and played a few scales for me while I sang them. I tried to use my new breathing technique while I did so, but found that I couldn't hold my notes out as long as I held my breath out. It discouraged me at first, but he told me that was typical in singing.

"Of course you're going to use more breath while you sing." He said, "But you sound fine, and you'll never have to hold a note out longer than fifteen beats unless you want to. Anyway, I can hear improvement all ready. Now, let's sing _The Water is Wide_."

"Do you need the music to look off of?" I asked.

"Oh no, I know all the songs." He said, matter of factly.

"All right… wait. You can play all the songs?"

He glared over his shoulder and began to play _Rhapsody in Blue_… without looking at the keys. "Chris, I'm going to say this only once, don't doubt my skills."

I nodded and didn't say anything else, in fear of damaging his pride. With my slight skepticism now tamed, he began to play the intro to _The Water is Wide_. Looking at my music, I began to sing along:

"_The water is wide, I cannot cross o'er_

_And neither have I, the wings to fly_

_Build me a boat that can carry two_

_And both shall row, my true love and I" _

"That's good," He said, still playing, "but make all your words sound proper, and stay on the vowel. Keep going." So taking his advice, I did:

"_A ship there is and she sails the seas_

_She's laden deep as deep can be_

_But not so deep as the love I'm in_

_And I know not if I sink or swim" _

At that moment, when we changed to a higher key, I felt that flowing and vibrating feeling that Desmond had been talking about. The song was pouring out of me, and I continued with what I was doing, trying to keep that feeling:

"_I leaned my back against a young oak_

_Thinking he were a trusty tree_

_But first he bended and then he broke_

_Thus did my love prove false to me"_

"That's it!" He said, "That's it, Chris." I grinned and sang triumphantly:

"_O love is handsome and love is fine_

_Bright as a jewel when first it's new_

_But love grows old and waxes cold_

_And fades away like the morning dew_

_And fades away… like the morning dew…" _

At last the song was over, and when Desmond stopped playing, he clapped softly.

"Bravo, Chris." He said, "You did well… for never being trained. But now since we have the flow of sound down, we need to work on diction."  
>"Huh?" I uttered.<p>

"How to say your words when you sing." He explained, "You sound lovely, but we don't want you sounding like a lovely redneck."

For the rest of the time I sang through the other two songs, and he wrote down on a sheet of paper which vowels I needed to look for so I could sing on them, with only a touch of the constants. The only time I could bend this rule was when I was singing a show tune or pop music… but that was it.

By next week I was expected to have the songs memorized, and to start learning a pop piece. As soon as I got home that night I downloaded the three songs that he gave me on a CD to my computer, and then put them on my ipod. I made sure I got on two versions of each song: the one with a person singing and the one without the person singing. After singing through each song once, I tucked my ipod in my purse so I wouldn't forget it, and after a quick shower, collapsed into bed.

That day I learned that singing, if you're doing it properly, makes you absolutely exhausted.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten: Revelation

_ Erik's Diary: June 15__th_

_ The nightmares are officially back, the ones I used to have as a child. In them I feel nothing but the burning of fire, and the flames surround me in a dark room. I scream and I try to run, but I can't. There is no escape. Then, when I think it can't get any worse, I see my unmasked face trying to attack me. It frightens me so much, that I literally scare myself awake. When I do leave the prison of my mind, I find myself back in bed sweating with tears rolling down my cheeks. To calm my nerves I stand up and pound my fists into the brick wall, as though trying to fight what's in my head. This happened four times to me last night, and I finally stayed awake after I made my knuckles bleed. It was my first episode in eight years… I just can't believe it's happening again. This journal is now to help me keep my sanity, so I don't go crazy like I did as a child. I can't go back to that dark place. I need to think of something, anything, to keep me where I am now… I refuse to write about this anymore._

_ She's better than I thought. Christy Davis, I mean. Well, I suppose I should call her Chris, even in my private writings. That was what she insisted on when we decided to proceed with the lessons. I always thought that Christy was a lovely name for her, but somehow, Chris does fit her in an odd way. It's actually funny that she's calling me a name that I enjoy: Desmond. _

_ The reason she is calling me that is because I wanted her to name me, to give a title to the shadow that is offering lessons to her. That was what she picked for me, Desmond. I don't know why, but I like the ring and subtle slyness there is to it. I suppose if I was called something other than Erik, that would be it._

_ But anyway, back to Chris. Yes, she is better than I anticipated. Her breath support has greatly improved since the last time I saw her, and she managed to incorporate that with her singing. I believe since she is so familiar with her voice and it's capabilities all ready, that that's the reason she is learning so quickly. She literally can't back track now, she can only get better._

_ She heard my voice for the very first time today. She came into the theater while I was playing the piano and singing. I didn't want her to hear me sing yet (since I don't want her to compare my skill to hers) but I'm glad she did anyway. It gave her new confidence in me. It wasn't until I ended the song did I turn around and realize she was down in the pit with me, her body leaning back against the wall for support and her eyes wide with surprise… and awe. _

_ She has the most beautiful blue eyes. They remind me of the sky on a clear day, and they always shine with emotion. I wonder at times if the girl realizes how pretty she is. Her skin always has that sun-kissed glow, even when she's not in any light, and her hair is always full and free of any tangles. I know I've described her before in these writings, but I can't help but think of her image whenever I write about her. I'm beginning to notice little things about her now, since I've started watching her so much and I'm spending time with her in the evenings. I've never seen her wear shorts like most of the theater girls do in the summer, just jeans or capris. And her makeup is minimal, with only foundation and mascara. I would love to see her with lipstick on and in a dress… she's got good legs after all. _

_ I'll admit, when I was a young man, I often noticed how beautiful women are. They are God's finest creature, with soft skin and a loving nature. When I first came to the theater I would observe with admiration and longing the ballet girls backstage whispering with anticipation for their next scene on stage. I used to have a crush on a few of them, and if I liked their skill, I put letters in their lockers to flatter them. That's how the notes first came about. Now, they are strictly for criticism and advice… but depending on how good natured and nice the performers are, I do change the delivery of my opinion. I used to have slight emotion behind my letters, and I don't know exactly what happened to make it go away. I think one day I realized that I myself could never have a beautiful woman… so I shut the idea and longing for a companion away, and focused my mind completely on the arts (I think this was also around the time I started to take up drawing and sketching). _

_ But why lie? I still think women are beautiful, as any man would. But Chris—she has the most unique beauty. With her defined cheekbones and plump lips, she looks like a more natural version of Marilyn Monroe. I admire so much about her. She's sweet and kind to everyone, and does her work well. She's so polite to adults it's almost sickening, and even though she isn't the most popular in the theater, everyone regards her with warmth and welcomes her into their company. Her slight shyness she has is endearing, and of course, there is her love for music that touches me deeply. _

_ I'm drawn to her like a moth is drawn to a flame, and usually the moth gets burned. And still, I go on giving the lessons. Tomorrow I won't see her, and maybe that'll give me time to exorcise these feelings from inside me. I know I can't back away from our deal, so I need to figure out a way to cope with her being so close to me in the pit…_

_Close enough to touch her._

_Close enough to sing to her…_

_Maybe I can't ignore this yearning after all. _

_ Chris, wherever you are right now, good night. While you sleep I'll remain awake, waiting for the only thing I have to look forward to:_

_Our next lesson together._

_~Erik_


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven: Contact

I woke up the next day, thoughts of my first date with Richard running through my head. I was nervous about that evening, but also excited. I knew no matter what, I would have fun with him, and if things didn't click we could always look back on this as a cool time with a friend.

I rolled out of bed and over to my CD player, to turn on what I called my 'pretty me' song. First off, everyone has their own 'pretty me' song. A 'pretty me' song is a song you play when you want to feel good about yourself. It gives you energy, and you feel like you can take on the world. So as I was getting ready around the house that morning, I had that sucker turned up all the way, just so I could her the words and sing along:

"_I am unwritten_

_Can't read my mind_

_I'm undefined_

_I'm just beginning_

_The pen's in my hand_

_Ending unplanned_

_Staring at the blank page before you_

_Open up the dirty window_

_Let the sun illuminate the words_

_That you could not find_

_Reaching for something in the distance_

_So close you can almost taste it_

_Release your inhibitions_

_Feel the rain on your skin"_

As the chorus played, I picked out my outfit for the day: black jeans for a little "OW" factor, a green t-shirt with a dark tank underneath, and my sparkly rainbow ballet flats. I pulled my hair back in a bun, and after putting on base makeup, I brushed on blue eye shadow for a hint of color. I wouldn't do myself up completely until later. But I thought Rich could have a preview of what was yet to come.

I put silver hoop earrings in, and clapped a silver necklace on. Next it was breakfast time, and as I kept singing to my 'pretty me' song on repeat, I only managed to scarf down an apple. Finally it was time to go, and after grabbing my purse and ipod, I walked out of the door to meet Maggie.

As soon as we saw each other at the crosswalk, her mouth fell open.

"Damn girl." She said, "You look great!"

"Thanks," I said, "you don't think it's too much for work?"  
>"Naw, it's perfect. It's like your flirting with a boy's eyes before a date. When we fix you up tonight, give you the whole package, Richard's eyes will bug out of his head."<p>

I blushed at the idea.

At last we made it to the theater, and I saw Rich waiting on the steps for us. Seeing me his eyes widened, but by the time I was close enough to talk to him, he had regained his composer.

"Wow," He said, "is that what you're wearing to our date tonight? You look great!"  
>"No," I confessed, "actually, this is just for work."<p>

"Well," He continued as we walked into the theater, "if you keep going to work like this, I'll have to battle the stagehands for you!"

And I figured out quickly why he felt that way. Today a few of the guys had come in to finish painting the scenery for _Swan Lake_, and when I walked by them, they actually dropped what they were doing to catch a glimpse of me. I smiled as I passed them, and then saying goodbye to Rich, made my way to the costume room.

I didn't have much to do that day. I spent most of my time with my ipod in my ears, singing along to my lesson songs while repairing costumes. After a while I even stopped working, and just stood in the room practicing.

I had been singing with my ipod in for a while, so I didn't know exactly when it happened, but I suddenly felt like I was being watched. For me it's a very distinct feeling, almost like two eyes are drilling holes in my back. As soon as I felt this sensation I pulled my ipod out of my ears and turned around. And of course there was no one, but the feeling still lingered.

"Richard, Maggie?" I said, "Are you guys in here?"

Suddenly, from downstairs on stage, I heard an electric guitar being played. I forgot bout the feeling soon, and I strained my ear to hear the song. At last I was curious enough to leave where I was, and I walked down to see where the music was coming from.

The source of the sound surprised me. Sometimes the performers and stage crew would play instruments while they were waiting for instructions, but the person playing wasn't exactly on stage crew. Standing center stage with the guy stagehands around him, was Richard. He didn't seem to notice me, and as I edged closer, he did something that really shocked me. He began singing:

"_Breakin' my back just to know your name_

_Seventeen tracks and I've had it with this game_

_A breakin' my back just to know your name_

_But heaven ain't close in a place like this_

_Anything goes but don't blink you might miss_

_Cause heaven ain't close in a place like this_

_I said heaven ain't close in a place like this_

_Bring it back down, bring it back down tonight_

_Never thought I'd let a rumor ruin my moonlight" _

I was surprised enough that he was singing, but what really impressed me was that he sounded good. Now, I knew a little while before he moved, he started picking up the guitar, though I had never heard him play. He had become really good in the last two years, but his voice was freaking awesome.

He had a rocker's edge to his sound, and a killer higher register. I could tell he wasn't trained, but if you're singing rock, do you really need to be? What he was doing was still impressive. I kept listening, completely in awe:

"_Somebody told me_

_You had a boyfriend_

_Who looked like a girlfriend_

_That I had in February of last year_

_It's not confidential_

_I've got potential_

_Ready Let's roll onto something new_

_Takin' its toll and I'm leaving without you_

_'Cause heaven ain't close in a place like this_

_I said heaven ain't close in a place like this_

_Bring it back down, bring it back down tonight_

_Never thought I'd let a rumor ruin my moonlight_

_Somebody told me that_

_You had a boyfriend_

_Who looked like a girlfriend_

_That I had in February of last year_

_It's not confidential_

_I've got potential"_

Hearing him, I felt pretty proud that he was able to blast his notes and shred that guitar. I finally couldn't help myself, and I yelled, "GO RICHARD!"  
>A few of the stagehands turned to look at me, and Richard did too. Smiling, he turned and sang directly at me:<p>

"_Pace yourself for me_

_I said maybe baby please_

_But I just don't know now_

_When all I wanna do is try_

_Somebody told me that_

_You had a boyfriend_

_Who looked like a girlfriend_

_That I had in February of last year_

_It's not confidential_

_I've got potential_

_A rushin', a rushin' around" _

He repeated the ending chorus a few more times, embellishing the guitar in the song a bit, and then ended it. By then the ballet troupe had come out of the studio for lunch break, and they had gathered behind the stagehand crowd. Everyone cheered and hollered for him, and he took a bow.

"RICHARD!" Mrs. Dublin shouted, pushing her way through the throng of ballet girls, "Is this what you were doing while I told you to grab me coffee?"

He looked at her, a dark red blush coming to his cheeks, and he carefully set the guitar on top of the amp it was attached to. "I'm sorry Mrs. Dublin," He said, "really, it won't happen again. I just haven't played in so long…"

She looked at him, trying to stay mad, but seeing hearing his genuine apology and reason, I knew she wouldn't be able to. Her face softened, and she shrugged. "Well," She sighed, "since your performance was done so well, and it is Friday, I'll let it go. But don't do it again."  
>He gave a dashing smile and let out a deep breath. "Thanks Mrs. Dublin! I promise, I won't do it..."<br>"Yeah, yeah." She muttered, "Leave my presence and get lunch, before I decide to stay mad." He nodded, and soon everyone dispersed.

He walked over to me, glowing with pride, and I gave him a hug. By now Maggie was next to us and she slapped him on the back.

"I didn't know you could sing!" She exclaimed.

"Eh, sorta." He said, "I'm not as good as Chris, but I've really gotten into it. I even have a band now where I live. It's been fun."

Suddenly one of the stagehands, Greg Wallace, ran over to us. Greg graduated last year from our high school, and was a big rock fan himself. Seeing him stop to talk to Richard, I realized that it must've been his guitar that he was playing. Bringing his guitar was something he usually did in the theater, and he was known to play it during breaks or when his crew was waiting on the paint to dry.

"Hey Rich," Greg said, "I just wanted to come over here and tell you, great job. If you ever want to play Lucy, she's welcome to you."

"Thanks man." He said, "I'll talk you up on that offer sometime." They nodded at each other, and Greg walked away.

"Lucy?" I said, raising an eyebrow, "Who's Lucy?"

"That what Greg named his guitar." Rich explained, "You know? Like The Beatles song: _Lucy in the sky with diamonds…_"

I nodded. "Right. Anyway, before we go grab lunch, I need to get my purse out of the costume room."

"All right," Maggie said, "but hurry. It'll be hard to get a seat somewhere."

I knew she was right, so I took off right up the stairs. I only glanced at my purse before grabbing it, since I knew we were hard pressed for time, and soon rejoined them and we talked out the theater.

We ended up at _McDonald's_, relieved to see the line was at the cash register was short. I stood behind Richard as he ordered, and Maggie was behind me. When he was done getting a cheeseburger value menu, he walked away to find a booth for us.

"Crap!" Maggie hissed from behind me, "Chris, I left my purse in the dance studio."

I couldn't help but laugh a bit. "Well, you should've remembered it when I mentioned I needed to get my purse."

"Well… could I borrow some money from you? I'll pay you back when we're at the theater."

After ordering a Big n' Tasty and a chocolate milkshake for myself, I handed her my purse. "Here there's a five in my wallet," I said, "and don't pay me back. Think of this as repaying you for the meals your family's had me over for."

She grinned. "Thanks Chris."

She rummaged through my purse, taking out my wallet, when suddenly her face drained of color. She froze for a second, and then slowly took out a five-dollar bill from my wallet. I watched her as she moved, now uneasy that she was going so slow.

"Maggie what it is?" I asked as we gathered our food.

"Wait till we're at the booth." She answered.

She handed me back my purse, and we walked to the back of the restaurant where Rich had saved a spot for us. He saw Maggie and noticed right away something was off.

"You okay, Mags?" He said, "You look like you've seen a ghost."

She glanced at me, and she blinked as though she was trying to get over her shock. "Chris," She said, "look in your purse, and see if there's anything new in there."

"What?" I gasped.

"Just do it."

I shrugged and unzipped my purse. I went through it, taking out my wallet and some of my makeup, and that's when I saw the thing she was talking about.

It was an envelope with a dark red rose printed on the low right hand corner of it. The paper was yellow with age, and I placed it on the table. I turned the object around to inspect the flap, and on it were the two letters _TG_. It had been written in beautiful, cursive handwriting, and the ink was extremely dark.

"Chris," Maggie whispered, breaking the silence, "that's the same kind of envelope I got a few days ago."  
>"You mean, when you got the letter from the Theater Ghost?" I questioned.<p>

"Yes."

I turned the envelope in my hands again, fingering the corners of it nervously.

"It looks old." Richard noted, "The paper, I mean. Are you going to read it now?"

I shook my head. "I want to read it alone first. You know, to process it."

"Yeah, of course you do." Maggie said, "That's reasonable. I mean, I didn't tell any of the ballet girls about it till after I read my letter. Take your time with." Then she added, suddenly brightening, "Let's forget about it for now, actually. It's nothing terrible after all. Let's talk about you guys' date!"

"No," Richard said, "That's bad luck Mags."  
>"Oh, I've never heard that!" She scoffed.<p>

"Well of course it is. You'll jinx it if you talk about it." I said, "It makes sense." I took a sip of my milkshake, and looked up at Richard over my drink. "And I'm glad he's superstitious about it anyway… that means he wants it to go well!"

Maggie and I giggled, realizing how true this was, and we stopped talking about the letter. But deep down, I knew that the note wasn't just from the Theater Ghost anymore… it was also from my teacher who I knew as Desmond. I was curious to see what he wanted to say to me, since he had seen me only last night and could've said whatever he needed to then.

We were back at the theater twenty minutes later, and everyone was at his or her post working or rehearsing once more. As soon as I was sure of this, I closed the costume room door, and took out the envelope again. I held it up to the light, to see if I could gaze through it, but I couldn't. So after sitting down on the wooden stool up there, I carefully ripped the flap of it open, and took out a folded piece of stationery that matched the envelope.

I looked down at the letter; surprised to see how neatly and gracefully it had been written. I took a deep breath, and after looking at the paper a few more times, I began to read it:

_Dear Chris,_

_ I feel that I have been pushing you extremely hard in the last few days, and I want to reassure you that you're doing phenomenal in your lessons. When I see you around the theater, you're always singing or listening to the demo songs I gave you. I am very pleased that you are so committed to working on your voice. Not many musicians have that discipline, and you should be proud of that. _

_ It has come to my attention that you are seeing someone tonight. I implore you, enjoy your time with him. Take a break from singing the rest of the day and tomorrow. Just exercise your voice by singing a few scales, and listen to the music a few times. But don't overwork yourself. You'll only damage your voice that way. _

_ Again Chris, your progress is astounding. And if I may say so, you look stunning. Remember what you have learned, and stay focused. I hope you and your company have a good time, and I will see you on Monday. _

_ With best regards,_

_ The Theater Ghost, or more fittingly, Desmond"_

Glancing through the note again, a smile came over my face. So, he was proud of me, despite the gentle (but unending) criticism. And on top of all that…

_You look stunning._

It was the very first time he had said something personal like that and it made me glow. The only thing I thought he noticed about me was my voice. Even when he faced me, it was like he was looking through me, not at me. Today, had he finally _seen_ me?

I folded up the note and carefully put it back in the envelope. As I did so I decided I would wear makeup to our lesson on Monday… just to see if he would look at me.

At last five o'clock rolled around, and I heard the sound of Maggie calling my name downstairs.

"Chris, it's time to go!" She yelled, "Let's jet!"

So upon hearing her, I grabbed my purse and left.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve: Big Screen

"Oh my God Chris, you look wonderful." Maggie said.

I didn't turn toward the mirror, afraid of what I would find. Maggie and I had been at my house for an hour and a half now, and she had picked out my outfit, and done my makeup and hair. She hadn't let me look at myself in that time, and honestly, I had no clue what I looked like. All I knew was that I was wearing a red silk sundress, silver stud earrings, a long red bead necklace that she brought over, and black flats. I had also seen her get the curling iron out of my bathroom, so I knew that she had at least curled my hair.

"Mags, I'm honestly afraid to look." I confessed.

"Oh come on! Don't you trust me?" She whined.

"With teaching me dance moves and being a friend, yes. But when it comes to fashion… I don't know."

"Just turn around and look!"  
>At last I took a deep breath and did as she asked me to.<p>

My mouth fell open as I looked at my reflection. I was right about my outfit, and it did look good on me. But my hair and makeup was… phenomenal. She had fixed black and red eye shadow to give my eyes a smoky look, then had tidied it up with mascara and eyeliner. She had brushed a pink powder blush on my cheeks, and my lips were a glossy red. As for my hair, it was curled and came down to my shoulders. She had sprayed some of it back behind my ears, to show my earrings, and had added a bit of her hair glitter to it.

"I like the glitter." I said, "I wouldn't have let you do it if you told me that's what you were going to do, but I like it!"

"Thanks." She said, "The key is to not over do it." She was sitting on the bed now, her smile full of pride. I walked over there and hugged her.

"Thank you." I said, "I'm really glad you came over."

"Your welcome, I'm glad I came over to." She replied, as I sat on the bed, "So now, we have thirty minutes to kill, and I want to know what your letter said!"  
>I sighed. I knew she was going to ask me about the letter sooner or later, and I had been trying to come up with what I was going to tell her. So I took a deep breath and came up with the best thing I could.<p>

"He just told he me liked my work." I said, "That's all. He's always liked my costumes."

She shrugged. "Of course he would say that. I'm just surprised he didn't say anything earlier. Is that all?"  
>"Yeah. That's it really."<p>

"Oh. Well, can I see the letter?"  
>I felt my eyes widened, and I shook my head. "No! I mean, Maggie, that letter is personal. Surely you wouldn't want me to see yours."<br>"Of course I would!" She giggled, "You're my best friend!" She sprung up from the bed, and bolted over to my purse. "Now, please Chris, let me see."

"Mags, don't!" I cried, but she wasn't listening to me. She had all ready found the envelope, which had been on top of my purse, and had taken the letter out of it.

"Maggie stop!" I pleaded, jumping up to grab the note from her, "Don't!"

She held the letter away from me as she read it, and then, her expression changed. I let my arms fall, knowing there was no use in taking it away from her now. As soon as she was done scanning it, she placed it back in the envelope.

"Lessons?" She said, looking at me, "What lessons?"  
>"Maggie, I can't tell you." I stated, "I could lose this opportunity I have if I did."<br>"What opportunity? Chris, what's going on?"

I shrugged. "I can't tell you. If I did, he would be mad at me."

"Who would be? You mean," she opened the letter to look at the signature, "Desmond?"

"I don't know if that's his real name, but yes."  
>Her look of curiosity now turned to one of confusion. "You don't know his… what? Chris, come on! We're best friends. If you need this to stay a secret, I won't tell a soul, but you can tell me what's going on. Whatever you tell me won't leave this house. I swear it."<p>

I shook my head. "I can't. I'm sorry."

"Chris," She begged, "please. Maybe I can help."

The guilt of keeping a secret from her finally hit me, and I caved in.

"All right!" I sighed, "Fine. I'll tell you what's been happening. But you can't tell Richard, or Jamie, or anyone what I say. Deal?"

We both sat back down on the bed. "Deal." She said, "So, what's been going on?"

"Well, it's like this," I began, "it started when I first saw the Theater Ghost…"

I told her everything after that, about meeting Desmond in the orchestra pit, to him never looking directly at me. I even showed her the music and CDs he gave me, and described how he looked.

"So, Desmond is the Theater Ghost? And he wears a mask?" She asked, after I was done telling her everything.

"Yes." I answered.

"And he's a famous performer?"  
>"Yep."<p>

"Wow! That is really cool Chris! I can't believe you're getting lessons from him."  
>I smiled. "Yeah, it is kind of cool. But you can't tell anyone! Not even your mom."<br>"Of course, no one will know. Does this mean your going to try out for the shows now?"

"Yes, I think so."  
>She pumped a fist into the air. "Awesome! I'm glad you finally took my advice and found lessons."<p>

I laughed. "Maggie, I think the lessons found me."

She nodded in agreement, then said, "Chris, don't you think the mask is overkill?"

I turned to her. "What do you mean?"  
>"I mean that if he really is as famous as he says, then you should've recognized his voice by now, or something like that."<p>

I shrugged. "Well, it actually makes sense when you think about it. If someone were to ask me about him, and give a description, I could honestly say I have no idea who he is. He just wants privacy Maggie. He says that his fame can be overbearing sometimes." I sighed. "Why he's famous is easy to say. I wish you could hear his voice."  
>"What does he sound like?"<br>"I can't describe it. His singing is the most beautiful I've ever heard. I can't compare it with anything because there's nothing to compare it to."

"He can't be that good Chris."  
>"Well, of course you wouldn't believe it until you heard him. He's like… the Angel of Music."<p>

"The angel of what?"

I waved a hand at her, as though trying to brush away the comment. "It's nothing," I assured, "just something my dad used to tell me when I was a little girl."

"Oh Chris, more secrets!" She cried excitedly, "Spill the beans girl!"

"No, it's not a secret." I groaned, "It's just a fairytale he used to tell me when I was little. You know, when he wasn't busy all the time. It's stupid really."

"I bet it's not. I'd like to hear it."

I shrugged. "Well, all right then. When I was younger my dad used to play the violin for me so I would go to sleep. I asked him once what made him so good at it, and he told me about how the Angel of Music had come to him in a dream once, and blessed him with the gift to play. Apparently, this angel could do anything musical: play the piano, play the violin, and sing. I was entranced with this idea of an Angel of Music, and I told him that I wanted the angel to visit me so I could sing. He promised that one day, if he were ever away and he met the angel in a dream, that he would send him to me. Like I said, it's a stupid fairytale."

"No it's not! I like it!" She protested, "Really Chris, I do. You know, if there really was an Angel of Music, maybe your Desmond would be it."

I laughed. "He's not _my_ Desmond, first off. And second off, he's completely human. Trust me, I've been around him."

"Okay, well, I didn't mean he was yours like that. But if he's as good as you say he is, and I trust your opinion more than anyone else's, then who knows? Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction."

As soon as she said that the doorbell rang, relieving me of any more questions she could have. "Maggie, it's Rich!" I said, jumping up from the bed. She grabbed her stuff and followed after me as I walked toward the front door. As soon as I got there, I swung it open to see him.

Never had I seen Rich so cleaned up before. He was wearing relaxed jeans with a red button down shirt, and black shoes. His hair was evenly spiked, and I could smell a hint of Old Spice coming off him. I can't lie, he looked pretty much gorgeous. Now I saw why so many girls had wanted to date him a few years ago.

I guess Rich was also having problems taking in how I looked, for Maggie spoke before either of us.

"Wow Rich!" She said, "You showed up just as I was about to leave! And may I say, you look awesome!"

He turned towards her. "Huh?"

She giggled. "Oh, nothing. I was just leaving, that's all."

"Right," He said, "I guess I'll see you Monday then."

"Yeah, yeah. Stop talking to me, and get back to your date." She gave me a smile. "See ya Chris."

"See ya Maggie." I said, happy that I found my voice again.

We watched as she walked down the sidewalk, and disappeared slowly from our sight. At last we faced each other again.

"You look beautiful Chris." He said, gazing at me, "Really, you do."

"Thanks," I said, "you look nice too."

He grinned. "Thanks. So, are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, um, just let me run inside and grab my purse. You can wait inside if you want."  
>"Nah, since you'll be right out, I'm good."<p>

I nodded, and bolted back in my room to grab my purse. I looked at myself in the mirror, just to make sure everyone on me was in its place, and I finally walked outside.

"Ready?" He asked.

"Ready." I said, locking the front door.

We began to walk toward the boardwalk, our hands brushing up against each other the whole way, and tried to make conversation.

"So how long are you going to be back in town again?" I asked.

"Until the second week of August." He answered, "Then I have to go back home to get ready for school. But since I have a car, I'll try to come by here on the weekends and breaks."

"That'd be awesome." I said, "I just feel bad that I wasn't ever able to come up and see you."  
>"Well, you're busy with the theater. I totally understand why you couldn't come up to see me. But, speaking of theater, are you trying out for <em>A Night of Stars<em> this year?"

I looked at him and immediately shook my head. _A Night of Stars_ was an event we did every year, an evening of individual performances, kind of like a talent show. We've had acts from singers to jugglers perform, and once someone did a tightrope act. _A Night of Stars_ is also the only time during the year where people could come see a performance at the theater free of charge. Usually we'd just set out a few donation jars, and people could drop in money there. Surprisingly, we'd make a lot of money on that night, and get new sponsors of the theater. Usually it was a rich family whose kid had been a performer, but sometimes we'd get people who'd never been to the theater. It's our biggest night of the year, and the theater is always packed.

Now, to get to be in _A Night of the Stars_, you have to audition in front of a panel of judges. They would usually be Mrs. Gardens, Mrs. Dublin, and Ms. Wallace (the music teacher at our high school). The best act to get in would be the last to perform, and usually they would get a stand ovation. Until two years ago, I used to audition every year for _A Night of the Stars_, but I never got in. So who was the usual singer in the show? Candice Williams. Her family is the biggest sponsor to our theater, and one year when she got in but didn't get the coveted final act, they sent a letter to Mrs. Gardens and the acts were magically switched around. Maggie, Jamie, and Amy were actually supposed to be the final act (they were doing _The Single Ladies Dance_) and it utterly ticked me off that they were switched. But the theater always needs money to be kept up, and since Maggie wasn't mad at her mom for what she did, I never made my frustrations verbal.

"Chris, you have to audition." Richard insisted after I made my subtle refusal, "You're so talented."

"Come on, Rich. It's not uncommon knowledge that every year I've tried out, I've never gotten in." I said, "Besides, you know Candice is the only singer they put in."

"That's because no one like you has stood up to her! Now look, this might sound mean and it's not like you didn't sound awesome before, but I think you've gotten better with your singing lately. I hear you up in the costume room singing all the time now. Your voice is a lot stronger than it used to be, and your words are clearer. I don't know what you're doing to sound so good, but I think you should take what you have and audition. I'm thinking about auditioning myself."  
>"Really?"<br>"Yeah. Mike, Greg, and Trevor from the set crew all play instruments, and they said that they'd love to have me as a lead singer and guitarist for the show. I was actually with them earlier, before I picked you up."

"What song are you thinking about performing?"

"Something rock. We're between doing a Linkin Park song or a Nirvana song."

"Unless you do _Smells like Teen Spirit _go with Linkin Park. He has a bigger fan base and is more contemporary."

He nodded. "Yeah, the guys actually told me to ask you what you think. They really value your opinion."

"Aw, that's nice."

"Well it's true! They've been hearing you sing lately too. So… are you going to audition?"

I closed my eyes and sighed. _I'll ask Desmond what he thinks._ I thought to myself.

"I promise I'll think about it." I said, looking up at him, "How about that?"

He laughed and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "Well, we're going from not auditioning to maybe auditioning, so it's improvement."

Soon after that we walked into _Mr. West's Burger Joint_, and ordered the classic meal. We ate together at a booth and talked, but after while we left to go buy our tickets for _Footloose_. The theater was only a few blocks away, so after grabbing seats and ordering a large popcorn, we sat in the dark, waiting for the movie to start.

"Hey Chris," Richard said leaning towards me.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for coming with me tonight."

I smiled at him. "Don't thank me Rich, I love hanging out with you."

It was then the movie started, and we turned out attention towards the screen. I sat there nervously, unsure if I should say anything or reach for his hand. I usually knew what to do on a first date, but with Rich, it was different. I wasn't on this date because I was getting to know someone; I was here for other reasons. What those reasons were I wasn't sure of yet, but nevertheless I was enjoying my time with him.

Halfway during the movie, where Kevin Bacon is making out with the leading lady next to his car, I felt Rich reach over to grab my fingers in his. For the rest of the night we held each other's hand, and I'll admit, the feeling of my palm against his made me giddy.

Finally the movie was over, and we left with the song _Footloose_ following us out of the building.

"Did you have fun, Chris?" He asked me. By now his arm was wrapped around my shoulders again, but this time, my hand was laced in his.

"Yeah, I did." I answered. "You?"  
>"I had a blast." It was dark out, and the stars were out. Looking up, I could see the North Star.<p>

"Huh, the North Star's out." I said, "We should make a wish."

"I don't need to." He stated.

"Really now?"  
>"Yeah… my wish all ready came true."<p>

"What was it?"

He laughed softly. "Well, you're here, aren't you?"

I felt myself blush, and I leaned against his shoulder. "You're sweet."

"Yeah, I learned that from a cute blonde."

I giggled, and the rest of the time we walked in silence. Finally we made it to my house, and he walked me up to the front door.

"Hey, can I ask you something, Chris?" He said.

"Yeah." I replied. "Shoot."  
>"Well, two weeks from tomorrow, on the Saturday of the last performance of <em>Swan Lake<em>, someone's throwing a cast party after the show. It's going to be at _Beat of the Sea_ and there's going to be dancing, karaoke, and food. I was invited to the party, and was wondering if maybe… you'd like to go with me."

I nodded. "I don't see why not. Sure Rich, I'd love to."

"All right, that's great. So, I'll see you Monday?"  
>"You know you will."<p>

We gave each other a hug, and after he stepped away from me. "You have a good night, all right Chris?"

"I will. See you later."

"See ya."

I unlocked the house and walked in as he made his way down the sidewalk. Upon closing the door, I smiled to myself and sat down on the couch. I was nervous about going on another date with him, but at the same time, excited. This evening had gone well, so who knew what was in store for later?

But one question remained in my mind: Did I like him as more than a friend?


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen: In Places Hidden

Amy slowly opened the door to the theater, glancing around to see that no one was there. It was nine o'clock at night, so she was sure everyone had gone home. She usually didn't come to the theater this late, but something had tugged inside of her to check on Erik. Since Maggie was spending the night at Jamie's house, and Nathan was working late, she didn't see a problem with satisfying her motherly whim to see make sure he was all right.

Ever since he had told her he was giving Chris lessons, he had been on her mind more and more. She didn't know why, but earlier that evening, the image of him had struck her and had made her sick to her stomach. So as soon as Maggie left and she had written a note for Nathan, she left the house and drove to the theater. Now, as she was walking backstage, a foreboding since of uneasiness filled her. Something, she didn't know what, but _something_ was off.

She quickly found the secret door to Erik's home, and she swept down the stairs before it was fully closed again.

"Erik!" She called, trying to sound happy, "Erik, are you here?" But he didn't reply to her, and she became worried. "Erik, where are you? Erik!"

Suddenly she heard a soft moan from behind the corner, where the bathroom was. She dropped her purse in the hall, and half ran, half walked, to the bathroom. Upon turning the corner and walking a little farther, past the kitchen and dining room, she found the closed door of the bathroom.

"Erik!" Amy yelled, "Erik are you in here?" She knocked on the door, but heard no reply. At last she jiggled the knob, and to her horror, found it locked. Suddenly a memory from seven years ago entered her mind… something that was hauntingly similar to what was happening in that moment:

_It's a winter's night, and it's snowing outside. She's walking down the underground corridor, to wish Erik Merry Christmas and deliver him some soup. Oh yes sweet, twelve-year-old Erik who had just moved down there, had finished up the plans for making this area livable, and was now searching for the next project. She calls his name, and there's no reply. She calls again, nothing. She walks down to the bathroom, knocks on the door thinking he's in there. No answer. She panics, tries to open the door, but can't. She pounds on the door, knowing he's in there, but he doesn't turn the lock. Finally she calls Nathan, who gets to the theater as fast as he can, and literally rams into the door to get it open. And there, lying on the ground, is sweet Erik, blood plastered onto his forehead and shards of glass on the floor next to him. His mask is off, and the combination of his face and blood, make her scream. But she doesn't mean to scream, she doesn't… she just fears for his life. She looks at the shards of glass, and sees that it came from the now shattered mirror of the bathroom cabinet. Looking at his forehead, and seeing the mirror, she puts two and two together. _

_ They carry him to his bedroom, and are thankful that the cuts aren't deep. He has only knocked himself out. Briefly he opens his eyes, and they get glossy with tears. "The face scared me." He murmurs, "The face makes me alone…" Then he falls back asleep… and Nathan starts the painstaking task of pulling shards of glass from his skin using tweezers._

Amy shivered, remembering that awful night, that night which would be the beginning of five months of pain. So much guilt came from that night: like how she should've finally gone to the police about him, how she should've taken him to the hospital but didn't because she didn't know his last name… something he never told her, and she guessed now, never would. Suddenly the fear that came upon her seven years ago set in, and she pounded on the door louder.

"Erik, if you're in there, open this door right now!" She ordered, "Erik! Do not do this to me! Open the…"

At that moment the door swung open, and there was Erik. He had reached over from the sink to let her in, and after doing so, hid his hands in it.

"Erik," She sighed, walking over to him, "it's so nice to see…" Then she looked down at the inside of the sink to see the white, ceramic bowl stained with blood. She moved her gaze up to his hands hanging over the edge, and she gasped. Both of his knuckles were horribly scraped, and although somewhat cleaned up, his wounds were still bleeding. Her eyes met his, and as soon as they did, he looked down in shame.

"Erik," She said softly, "how did this happen?"

"It was an accident." He whispered, "My piano lid closed on me…"  
>"Yeah sure, and I bet Santa Clause came to visit you too. Tell me the truth."<p>

He shook his head. "No. I can handle this myself."

She grabbed his hands, shoving them in his face. "Well clearly you can't, because you're still bleeding right now! Erik, what happened?"

"I won't tell you."

She took a deep breath, knowing that if Erik didn't want to tell her anything, he never would. It was best to just let the incident go. "Go sit on the bed." She instructed, "I'm going to grab the First Aid Kit out of my office, all right? I'll be right back." He nodded, and she left.

Minutes later she came back, with the white case in her hand, and found him in his room sitting on his bed like she asked. The room only held that single bed, at the far right hand corner of his room, and a dresser, table, an easel with art supplies near it, and a chair. Yet on the left wall she noticed a few red spots against the green paint, and looking at him, she realized what he had done.

She pulled up the chair across from him and set the First Aid Kit on the bed. He didn't say a word as she opened it and pulled out cleaning alcohol and two long, nude colored bandages to wrap the wounds in.

"Why didn't you tell me you were hitting walls again?" She asked, as she dabbed alcohol on a cotton ball.

"I didn't want to worry you." He said, "You all ready have a theater and family to take care of."

She sighed as she rubbed the alcohol on his knuckles. She knew how much that stuff stung, but he never flinched as it was applied on his wounds.

"Erik," She said, now rolling the bandages around his scrapes, "you know I'll always worry about you. That's what happens when you care about someone."

He took a deep breath. "I know. I think I'm beginning to understand that now."

"What do you mean by that?"

He turned away from her, and looked down at the floor. After a few seconds he said something, in such a quiet murmur that Amy barely heard him: "Chris."

She shook her head sadly, figuring out what the distant look in his eye was. He was falling for the sweetheart of the theater, the only member of it who didn't have any enemies. Of course, she knew that he would like someone deeply at some point… she just didn't expect it to happen so soon, and with Chris Davis.

"She's going out with someone." She said softly, "Or at least that's what everyone's been saying."

"I know she is." He said, standing now that his bandages were rolled. "I know. This, what I feel, will pass."

"If you keep seeing her it won't. You'll only become more attracted to her. She's a pretty girl, Erik."

"Yes, she's beautiful, I know this. But I made a deal with her, to teach her to sing, and I won't back out of it. I won't cheat her out of a skill she could easily obtain with training."

"She can sing quite well. I've heard the improvement you've made in her. She sings all the time now… even the cast talks about it. They're all trying to figure out what she's been doing to get better."

"That's a secret Mrs. Gardens, that they'll never find out."

"I suppose they won't, but don't you understand what I'm trying to tell you? You could stop the lessons now, and she would do okay…"

He looked at her coldly, his body becoming rigid and his lips tight. "I will not settle with her." He stated, "She has the ability to be perfect and I will not take that away from her. She will not be okay; she will be wonderful. It would be cruel to stop her progress."

"How do you expect this to end then, Erik?" She said, "Honestly, I want to know."

He turned away and sighed. "I will teach her, and make it so that she sings like an angel. Then she will advance in the theater world, probably with that boy she likes beside her, and I will stay in the darkness. She will never know who I truly am, and soon, I'll be forgotten. But at least I'll have the gratification in knowing that I worked with her, have molded her, into what she'll become." He spun around to face her again, and continued, "Right now Mrs. Gardens, I need her voice. I need her presence, to soothe the animal that is in me. She reminds me that I'm _human_, and can you blame me for wanting to hold onto that for a while longer? I'll suffer the consequences later, but for now, let me be human for a few hours every week. That's all I want in this world."

She looked at him, and hearing the slight pleading in his voice, decided to not push the matter anymore. After all, if she was the only thing keeping him calm, then it could be worth whatever came later.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen: Reflection

I woke up at my normal time on Monday morning, feeling slightly groggy. Maggie had called the night before, begging that I tell her every little detail about my date with Richard… which I did. I hadn't fallen asleep until midnight, so I could tell coffee was definitely in order for that morning.

After changing into jeans, a form fitting black shirt, and tennis shoes, I made myself some oatmeal and waited for the coffee machine to kick in. When it was done I put in half milk and cream, and half coffee. That little dose of caffeine was all I needed to get perked up, and after putting on foundation and mascara, I grabbed my things and left for the theater.

Maggie was waiting for me at the sidewalk, wearing a new red leotard and black sweat bottoms, with her hair pulled back. Seeing me she broke into a smile, and as soon as I was by her side, we began chatting.

"So," She said, "you _have_ to tell me!"

"Yeah, good morning to you too." I murmured, "And what do I have to tell you?"

"Well if you and Richard are an item!"

I blushed and shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. I don't think so for now. Though we are going to the cast party together."

She giggled. "Well, there you are! You guys are _so_ an item. I mean, you do like him, don't you?"

"Maggie," I groaned, "I really don't know how I feel about him yet. I just want to see how our next date goes, and then I'll make a decision. But for now, I'm not sure."

"Oh," Her face fell. "You mean, you may not like him?"

"Again, I'm not sure. I think he's attractive and everything but, something feels off. It maybe just nerves about the whole thing, but I just want to proceed carefully since I'm not certain. He's been a good friend to me for a long time, and if we screw this up, I may loose that friend."

She nodded. "All right, I guess you have a good point. I'll drop the subject."

"Good, thank you."  
>"But are you seeing Desmond tonight?"<p>

I glared at her. I knew she was just curious, but she had to be wary about when she asked about him. "Shush! Be careful! We can talk about it now, but as soon as we get in the theater, the topic's closed. Yes, I'm seeing him tonight."

"Excited?"

I gave a smile and nodded. "I actually am. I have to ask him about auditioning for _A Night of the Stars_."

She let out a squeal of delight. "Chris, you're trying out?"  
>"Maybe. I want him to tell me if I'm good enough to try out or not. And if he says I am, I want him to pick a song out with me, and then tell me what I need to work on. I'm sure he'll have good advice."<p>

"Yeah, I'm sure he will too." Suddenly she stopped walking and gave me a curious look. I waited for her to say something, like I spilled coffee on my shirt or I had oatmeal on my face, but she didn't. She just continued to look at me.

"What is it?" I finally asked.

"I don't know." She said, shrugging and beginning to walk again, "It's just, you changed when you started talking about Desmond."

"I… what?"  
>"You changed. I don't know how to explain it Chris. It's like when I watch you sing, and you get to a really cool part in the song. There's an aura about you, a glow. The same thing happened when you were talking about Desmond."<p>

"Well," I said, "he is a pretty cool guy. He's helped me out a lot lately, musically. I've really come to admire him."

"I think that's true to an extent, but I'm beginning to wonder if maybe you're chasing the wrong guy."

"What does that mean?"

"Look, you're unsure about Richard and what your feelings are towards him, but when you talk about Desmond you get all gushy on me. Maybe you're trying get the wrong person's attention."

I burst out laughing as soon as she said all that. To me, it was one of the funniest things I had heard in a long time. "You're kidding, right?" I chuckled, "Mags, Desmond is twenty-seven. He's ten years older, and has shown no interest like that in me. Yeah, I think he's neat and really awesome, but that's not what our relationship is about. It just doesn't feel like a crush with him."

"And what does a crush feel like? Like Richard?"

"Well, yeah! More than Desmond at least. Richard and I are clicking in all the right ways. I mean, sure, something is missing but it'll come in time."

"What does Desmond feel like then?"

That question made me pause, and I thought for a moment. "I don't know," I finally said, "it's hard to explain. What I feel for him is different than anything I've ever felt for anyone. His voice literally pulls you towards him, and it seems like you could sit there forever in his presence to listen and watch him. He moves so gracefully, it actually makes me think of a dancer. When he talks to me he makes me feel like I'm the only person in the world that matters. And even if he's criticizing my singing, it's easy to take and I listen to him and apply what he says. If what I felt for him were a crush, then I would be tripping all over myself for him. But I'm not. He calms me, and makes me feel good about myself and singing."

"So… it's like love?"

I was about to strangle this girl. Clearly, she wasn't getting it. "No." I stated, "It's not like love. It's like two people having a student/teacher relationship. It's not like love at all."

"And how do you know what love feels like?"

I shrugged. "I know what it doesn't feel like. Desmond and I, we're both strictly business."

"Well Ms. Strictly Business, we better stop talking about this. Look who's waiting at the theater."

I turned my direction toward the stairs of the theater, and saw what she was looking at. There was Richard, wearing jeans and a brown polo, relaxing against the metal railing. Seeing Maggie and I he gave a short wave, and then walked over to greet us.

"Good morning girls." He said, quickly falling into stride with us. I turned to him and gave a bright smile.

"Hi Rich." I said, "Did you have a good weekend?"  
>"Yes, I did… for the obvious reasons." He answered, giving me a wink.<p>

"You two!" Maggie groaned, "You guys make me want to throw up."

"Oh Mags, you'll understand one day." Richard sighed.

"Don't worry, I understand now… that you two are completely disgusting!"

I laughed, and just as I did we walked into the lobby. As we made our way into the auditorium, I saw that the ballet girls had gathered on the stage and were doing stretches. The orchestra was getting into places in the pit, and I realized that today was the first day that the rehearsals would be taking place on stage for the show. I absolutely loved it when the orchestra was in the pit. The orchestra actually consisted of the most talented students from our high school and college. They were part of a summer music camp thing that the theater did every year. Since a lot of the theater's orchestra were gone during the summer months, they pulled in other local talent by setting up this camp. They would give the director and group the sheet music for the upcoming ballet or musical for the summer, and then they would practice at the school a month prior to about two weeks before the show. Then they would come into the pit to work with the cast, get the kinks worked out, and become used to playing in such a confined space. Finally the nights of the show would roll along, and everyone would be ready, being well rehearsed and adjusted for the theater. I had always loved the summer months because of how well this select group of musicians played. Many times I could hear them from the costume room, or wherever I was volunteering. The music helped the time pass, and sometimes I would bust a move myself, depending on what was being played. But now, I could tell there would be no dancing backstage for me if they were doing stuff from_ Swan Lake_.

"I better get going," I said to Maggie and Richard as we stepped on stage, "I need to make sure all the dresses are good to go for rehearsal on Wednesday. And of course, Leo's costume might need to be altered…" Leo was the leading man in the show, and was one of the most beautiful dancers I've ever seen. He reminded me a lot of Gene Kelly, with his fluid movements and robust energy. The guy could do almost anything, from ballet to tap, to even break dancing.

"He tried it on the other day, and he said it was fine." Maggie reassured, "After you let out the shoulders, it fit him perfectly."

"What about the other ballet girls? Have they tried on their costumes?"

"Not all of them, but most of them have since you did the alterations."

"Okay, can you tell those who haven't to try them on, and if there are problems to find me?"  
>"I will." Richard said, "After all, I am the stage manager."<p>

"That would be great." I said, heading toward the stairs, "Thanks a lot Rich. I'll see you guys for lunch."

As I walked toward the costume I took a moment to look behind me, to glance over the cast one more time. I saw Leo near the corner stretching with five other guys in the ballet group. Two of them, Peter and Isaac, had moved to town recently but did dance where they used to live. The other three guys were Benji, Kyle, and Tyler. All of them had been dancing since grade school, and loved it. They were really nice guys, but sometimes it was hard to remember that there were males in the troupe. After all, when you have a group of thirty girls, it's hard to remember there are six boys.

I walked up to the costume room, and shutting the door behind me, began to rummage through the costumes. Most of the girls only had one costume, but fifteen of them changed once in the show, from being swans to lords and ladies attending a party. I had all ready picked out stuff for them to wear, but I like to go through everything one more time, in case I missed something that might be easier to slip on and off, or dance in. Besides, I had nothing else to do, since they weren't doing rehearsals in costume until Wednesday.

To pass the time I would close the costume door and sing, in between listening to the orchestra practice. I always carried my ipod with my lesson songs on it, and I had made copies of the sheet music, which I kept in my purse. I was close to memorizing everything, but the fast tempo in the middle of _Who'll Buy My Lavender_ always had me tripping over my words. I finally got so frustrated with the song that I had to stop singing it, and switch over to _The Water is Wide_ and _American Lullaby_. I loved both songs, but _American Lullaby_ struck a cord with me somewhere. It was the most contemporary, being written in the 1930s, and it had a cool, jazzy feel to it.

A few hours passed, and finally, it was lunchtime. Today Richard, Maggie, and I ate at _Panera_, sitting at a booth by the window. Maggie looked downright exhausted, and so did Richard.

"Is Mrs. Dublin really working you guys this hard?" I asked, taking a bite of my sandwich.

"Yeah," Rich muttered, "she has me running around backstage, getting the ballet troupe stuff and making sure the proper cues are given. Tomorrow I'll get a headset though, which should make my job easier."

"That sounds easy." Mags sighed, "Try being the lead. It's grueling everything I have to do."

"I believe that." I said, "I'm worn out just getting costumes ready. I couldn't imagine dancing for two hours."

"Well, soon you'll be performing too." Rich mentioned, "Since you're thinking about auditioning for _A Night of the Stars_."

"Yeah, you better audition!" She teased, playfully hitting me, "It's about time you stood up to Candice and beat her for the final spot."

"I know I should, but you're forgetting one thing. Every year she pulls out all the stops to make her performance, well, watch-able. She has the best costumes, backup dancers, and killer effects. With her, it isn't about the music. It's about the spectacle, and people fall for that. All I have is my voice."

"Why don't you try out with an accompanist then?" She suggested, "If you decide to audition, give my dad your sheet music ahead of time and I'm sure he'll play the piano with you. I think that might leave an impact on the judges."

"Are you sure your mom would be okay with that?"

"Yeah. People have asked my dad to accompany them before, and it's never effected the rulings of the show."

"All right. If I decide to audition, I'll offer your dad a chance to play for me. Thanks for telling me about it."

"Don't thank me. He would love to play for an audience."

We made it back to the theater later on, and finally after a long day of rehearsing, it was time to go. Like every day Maggie, Richard, and I parted ways at the corner, and I quickly walked home.

By the time I got home it was sixty-twenty, which meant I had a little over an hour to eat, get cleaned up, and drive over to the theater for my music lesson. I made myself a plate of left over stir-fry, and a small salad. After eating I walked into my room and pulled out my makeup, remembering Desmond's letter and his comment about my appearance. I put on the blue and white eye shadow, with eyeliner and mascara. When I was done with that I swept red blush across my cheeks and rolled red lipstick on my lips. I looked at myself in the mirror, and decided I would pull my hair back in a tight bun. After doing so I decided to go with the hairdo, and then I practiced my songs a few times.

Finally it was seven thirty, and I grabbed my things and locked up the house, so I could leave. I didn't want to rush like I did the last time going to see him, and if I came to the theater early, maybe I could hear him sing again. I jumped in my car, turned the stereo up, and began my drive to the theater.

I was there in under ten minutes, and soon my car was parked and I was approaching the doors. I opened them; stopping so I could hear if there was any music coming from the auditorium. Sadly, I didn't hear anything, and I walked through the lobby somewhat disappointed.

I soon found myself on stage, and I looked down to the orchestra pit to see a small light was on. I climbed down the latter into it, and I saw Desmond pushing a few chairs against the side wall, so we could have room to practice. The orchestra had brought them in earlier for rehearsal, and I guess kept them there so that way they didn't have to set them up again. The light in the small pit was coming from a desk lamp, set on top of the piano and hooked up to a nearby electrical outlet. For a while I watched Desmond in the shadows, moving the chairs back. He didn't seem to notice me, so while he was working, I studied his appearance. Today he was wearing a dark green shirt with jeans and black converse. His hair was tidily combed down, and of course, the white mask was on his face.

"Hello Chris." He said suddenly, not even turning to look at me. I put a hand over my mouth in surprise. Well, I guess he had heard me come in.

"Hi Desmond." I greeted, recovering quickly from my shock, "Do you need help?"  
>"No, I'm almost done. Give me a few more seconds, and we'll get started."<br>"Actually, I wanted to ask you something."

He stopped what he was doing, shrugged, and walked over to sit on the piano bench. I gulped, watching him make the simple movements into something sweeping and majestic. I came into the light as he sat down, and I believe for the very first time, his eyes met mine. The look of them made me draw in a deep breath, and I had to step back. His eyes were usually distant, but then, they saw me. I watched as they seemed to flash for a moment, a trick done by the lightning or his own feelings, I'm not sure. But the small hint of emotion shocked me, and I suddenly grew nervous.

There was maybe a minute's pause, one of the longest minutes I had ever endured in my life, but finally he spoke.

"I would love to sketch you sometime." He said.

"What?" I was slightly taken back.

"I would love to sketch you sometime. You have an exquisite face. It's a very unique, classical beauty."

"I didn't know you sketched." I said, "I mean, on top of playing the piano, singing, and writing plays and songs… you _sketch_?"

"Yes. I picked it up about six years ago. I thought since I was musically and literarily talented, perhaps I could be an artist visually too. I guess I'm not too horrible, I've designed sets before."

"Wow, impressive. So, you'd like to sketch me?"

"Yes."

I looked down, feeling my cheeks grow hot. "Okay. I'd like that. Thank you. I bet your face is—_exquisite_—too." I wanted to hit myself for that last comment. God, whenever I get nervous, I say the most stupid things.

But to my surprise he didn't seem fazed by the comment. "It's different, but in no way, is it like yours." He sighed.

I looked down at his hands lying in his lap, and saw they were bandaged up around the knuckles. I walked over closer to him, at last coming out of the shadows, and pulled up a chair across from him. He didn't protest as I reached over to touch his right bandage. For some reason he was allowing me on his level, letting me talk to him like he wasn't just a teacher.

"What happened to your hands?" I asked softly, afraid of losing this moment.

"My piano lid fell on me while I was playing the other day." He answered, "My knuckles were banged up pretty bad."

"Does it hurt to play? If you can't, I can play my own music."

"Well, it's nice to know you can play yourself, but no. For you, I can play. You all ready have enough to think about when you're singing." At that moment the connection we had was lost, and he went back to being my teacher. I withdrew my hands, realizing that our informal conversation had flown out the window. "Now," he continued, "what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

I sat up and took a deep breath. "_A Night of the Stars_ is coming up, and I wanted to ask you if I should audition or not."

"_A Night of the Stars_?"

"It's the talent showcase the theater holds every year…"

"I know what it is. And you want to know if you should audition. Well, I can't tell you to audition or not. It's up to you. I have no control over what you do or not do."

I looked at him, wondering if maybe this was a kind way of telling me I shouldn't try out. "Desmond," I said, "I'd really like your opinion on this. Am I _good_ enough to try out?"

He glanced at my face again, something that made my heart stop beating for a moment, and leaned toward me, like he was about to tell me a secret. I copied his movements, shifting myself closer to him, and gazing back at his face.

"Chris," he said softly, "from the moment I heard you sing, I thought you were good enough to try out. I've only worked with you a few times, but you're all ready better than all of the chorus members here."

I glanced down. "That's not true." I said.

"But it is." I saw him reach his hand out, and rest it under my chin, gently tilting my face to his again. "Listen to me Chris," he whispered, his voice seeming to wrap itself around me, "you are a good singer. Yes, there is work that needs to be done for you to reach your full potential, but I'm certain that we'll get there soon. I think you should audition for the show. I'll help you pick out a song, and we'll work on it together."

I smiled warmly at him. "Thank you Desmond." I said, "I was hoping to hear that from you."

"Great." He withdrew his hand and stood up. "We need to get to work then. Since we're going to be working on a pop song for the show, I don't want you to practice _Who'll Buy My Lavender_ or _The Water is Wide_. I want you to spend your time on whatever song we choose for you, and _American Lullaby_. Understand?"  
>"Yes."<p>

"Good. And you'll need to keep doing your breathing exercises. Now, for song choice, what were you thinking of doing?"  
>I shrugged. "I don't know, I was thinking something kind of slow. The show often has a lot of exciting and flashy acts, and I want to stand out talent and sound wise."<p>

"I agree with you. A slow song it is. Are you picky with genre?"  
>"Just don't do country. I can't stand country for the life of me."<p>

"Then, I think I have a song for you. Do you know _Halo_?"

"By Beyonce? Yes, it's one of my favorite songs."

He nodded, and turned toward the piano to play it. I took my cue from him to stand up beside it.

"Do you know all the words?" He asked.  
>"Yes." I said.<p>

"Okay, but I still want you to have the sheet music to practice with. Just to make sure you get all the notes. Really quick, let's warm up. If you could sing on bah, please." And he began playing the scales for me.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen: Ideas

_ Erik's Diary: June 19__th_

_ I need to find a better way to release my anger. I have actually done notable injury to myself this time, ramming my fists into the wall. It was a few nights ago, and I was awakened by another nightmare. I was so blind with fury and fear; I kept punching at the wall without stopping. I was thankful that Mrs. Gardens came down to the theater so late, for she found me in the bathroom trying (unsuccessfully) to clean my wounds and stop the blood coming from my knuckles. While bandaging my hands up she finally realized the full extent of my admiration for Chris… and has made me realize it too._

_ I adore her. I have only known her personally for little over a week, but my thoughts are consumed by her. When she is at the theater I watch her like the angels watch out for the weak. I gaze at her from my little hideaways in the theater, and listen to her as she sings. Everyday her voice is becoming more and more breath taking. At first the lessons were only about her voice. But now her beauty and spirit has captured me, and I never want to be released again. _

_ What I am feeling, I'm not sure. I have never had such conviction come over me about anything. But I hear her in the night, singing on stage, and her voice sings me to sleep. When I hear her voice, I have a restful slumber. Yet those hours are few and precious, and then the nightmares kick in. Still, I believe that the hours she grants me of peaceful rest are the ones that are keeping me from exhaustion and fatigue. At this point, I'll take whatever I can get sleep wise._

_ Today though, an extraordinary thing happened, which makes me pray to hear her voice so I may dream of it again! It was quite early, about twenty minutes or so before our lesson, and I was clearing chairs in the orchestra so that she would have room to sing. As I was doing so I heard Chris' light step on the ladder, and the outline of her figure in the shadows. I had not turned on the theater lights, for the pianist in the summer orchestra had left a small desk light on the piano, which gave off all the light we needed. _

_ She watched me in silence for a while, and I finally spoke to her. After that she asked if I needed help, and I said no. That was the moment everything happened, right as she told me she wanted to talk to me about something. _

_ I looked up at her as she made this remark, and I saw her face. She was wearing makeup and red lipstick, which made her look more beautiful and mature than her seventeen years. I could only stare at her, imagining her features framed and put in an art gallery for all of the world to see. _

_ "I would love to sketch you sometime." I said. _

_ She seemed surprised by the comment, and she tilted her head shyly. She didn't know I was an artist too, and I explained to her what little I had done with a pencil. Finally, she said something I will never forget. _

_ "I bet your face is exquisite too." _

_ I was stunned. Oh, how little she knew of who I really was! I had no idea how to reply to her, but I tried not to show it. _

_ "It's different." I finally told her, "But in no way, is it like yours." _

_ As the conversation progressed, she looked down and noticed the bandages on my hands. As I sat down I pulled up a chair so she could sit across from me, and as she did so, her fingers came to rest lightly on my right hand. A shiver went up my spine as her skin made contact with mine. For the very first time, this girl had touched me. _

_ She asked about my wounds, and of course, I lied to her. That single lie shattered the moment for me, and I felt that I couldn't be so close to her with the other lies I had concocted. Using my voice and demeanor, I made her back away on her accord, so I wouldn't have to force my hand from hers. It was then she told me what she wanted to talk to me about._

_ She wishes to try out for _A Night of the Stars_… and she has asked if I thought her good enough. Of course I believe she is, and if she isn't now, she will be in the next two and a half weeks I have with her. Auditions for the talent showcase are the Wednesday after _Swan Lake_ is performed. We've all ready picked out a song for her, _Halo _by Beyonce, and tomorrow I plan on giving her the sheet music and a demo CD with just the music to practice with. _

_ Yet even though we have plenty of time to work, she is quite nervous about it. Her tone and breath control are at the point where she could do well, but her self-confidence is lacking. I need to figure out a way for her to see that she is as wonderful as I know she is. Is she perfect? No, no one is. Even with my own singing I make simple mistakes. The truth is, each song represents it own challenges. There's no way one can sing perfectly every single time. But Chris… she comes close to being perfect. All she needs to do is trust herself. _

_ I know that if she believed in herself, like I believe in her, she would become the greatest singer the theater world has ever heard. That song, _Halo_, is perfect for her… since as the chorus says, she has become "_my saving grace_."_

_~Erik_


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen: Run Around

The next week passed in a flurry of activity. I barely had time to rest, in between working at the theater and having lessons with Desmond. This was literally my schedule:

Wake up at seven thirty or eight o'clock

Be out of the house by eight thirty

Start work for the theater at nine

Have lunch for an hour at noon, then go back and work until six

Walk home with Maggie and Richard, and arrive at six thirty

Fix dinner, clean what needs to be cleaned around the house, and drive up to the theater at seven thirty (sometimes earlier)

Have lessons with Desmond until nine

Go home, finish cleaning if need be, get a shower, practice singing, and crash in bed around eleven

It took all I had to keep myself going all the time, and something that was a big help to me was music. It didn't matter what I was doing at a certain moment in time, I could quietly hum to myself, sing, or listen to my Ipod. Singing was part of my 'me' time, and I could do that without compromising a task. But still, even with the joy of lessons to look forward to with Desmond, I was still exhausted.

It was eight days later, a Tuesday, after I had talked with Desmond about auditioning for _A Night of the Stars_. I hadn't told anyone that I was trying out, since I wanted to catch Candice and the judges off guard. Yet I had sent the sheet music to Mr. Gardens via email, and he said he would practice the song and accompany me. We were going to get together for a run through on Friday afternoon, Saturday, and then Wednesday morning before the audition. I knew, since Mr. Gardens was Maggie's father, I'd have to tell her I was auditioning today.

I was sitting with Richard and her at _McDonald's_. All three of us were pretty exhausted and hadn't said much. _Swan Lake_ was in two days, and there'd been so much going on up at the theater. Between helping the ballet troupe with their costumes and hair, and Mags and Richard having to do their own thing for the show, all of us were almost completely depleted of our energy.

"So," I began, finally breaking the tiresome silence, "I have something to tell you guys."

They looked up at me, Rich propping himself on his arm. "What?" He asked.

"Well, if I tell you guys this, you have to promise you won't tell anyone around the theater."

"There isn't time to tell _anyone_ about _anything_ around the theater." Maggie sighed, "What is it?"

I gave a small smile. "I'm auditioning for _A Night of the Stars_."

Both my friends sat up quickly, the energy I thought was gone filling them again. Richard reached over to place a hand on my arm, and said, "Are you really trying out, Chris?"

"Of course I am!" I answered, "In fact, Mr. Gardens is going to be my pianist for the song."

"Oh, wow, I feel stupid right now." She said, "Now I realize why Dad's been practicing on the piano more and more."

"He's practicing? That's nice to know." I teased.

"Ah Chris, this is great." Richard said, "Maybe you and I could audition back to back."

"Maybe. But you guys can't tell anyone. I'm not even letting people know what the song is until the results of the acts are posted. If Candice were to find out I was auditioning, she'd flip."

"I bet. But try to get some rest this weekend before you try out. I know that'll be hard to do with the show running until Saturday, but just get some downtime in on Sunday."

"I plan on it." I said, "By the way, does anyone know exactly what time the cast party is?"

"Saturday after the show at 9:30." Mags replied, "And I'm so excited for it! I have my costume picked out all ready!"

I gasped. "What? Costume?"

"Yeah! The cast party has a theme this year: _A Midsummer's Masquerade_. I thought you knew that."

I gazed at Richard. "No, I didn't. My date didn't tell me that."

"It is my fault." He admitted, "I just found out on Friday there was a theme. I completely blanked out on calling you. I'm so, so sorry."

I sighed. "It's fine. But I don't know what I'm going to wear."

"Just do your homecoming dress from last year," She suggested, "and a mask. That's what a lot of girls are doing after the show, since they'll have their makeup and hair done nicely all ready. We're just putting on matching jewelry, comfortable shoes, and masks."

"Really Chris, you'll look awesome in anything." Rich complimented, "You shouldn't even worry about it."

"Then I'll go in a trash bag." I joked, "But seriously, I'll have to try to find my homecoming dress when I have free time."

"Do it on Thursday. We don't show up at the theater until five, remember? The show's at seven o'clock. You'll pretty much have a whole day to look. Just don't worry about it."

I thanked Rich silently by placing my hand over his resting on my arm. Maggie saw my gesture and lit up, but was nice enough to not crack a joke or mention it.

We were finally let out of the theater at six, and I walked home with my friends drowsily. The excitement from my talent show announcement had passed, and everyone was back to being tired. We didn't say much as we walked together, and then parted ways at the corner.

As soon as I was in the house, I walked straight over to the living room and fell onto the couch. The cushions seemed so plushy and welcoming, that I pulled one of the pillows under my head and nestled into it.

"I'll just close my eyes for a moment." I said to myself, "Nothing in the house needs to be cleaned after all… a short nap wouldn't hurt. I'll make it to my lesson…" And with that I fell into darkness.

I woke up what seemed like minutes later, feeling well rested. I sat up on the couch, stretching my arms, and then walked over to the fridge to see what was available.

"Huh," I said, "let's see what I have time to cook."

I walked over to my purse on the coffee table next to the couch, and took out my cell phone. After turning on its screen, I glanced at the clock on the right hand corner of it. It said seven fifty-five.

My stomach sank.

"Damn it!" I yelled, grabbing my purse and sheet music from my room, "Damn it, damn it, damn it! How could I sleep for that long?"

I snatched an apple from a bowl on the kitchen table, so I wouldn't pass out from hunger, and bolted out into my car. I drove while eating my apple, something I don't suggest anyone should do, and finally I arrived at the theater… ten minutes late.

I ran inside, my purse and sheet music under one arm, my apple in the other, and ran through the front doors of the theater. I felt like the wind was rushing around me as I flew through the lobby, burst into the auditorium, and scurried on stage. Finally I was at the edge of the orchestra pit, and I literally jumped down the ladder.

Desmond was at the piano, waiting patiently for me, and he turned quickly when he heard me land in the pit. I looked at him while wiping sweat from my brow, and I began to apologize.

"I'm so sorry." I said, while gasping for air, "I did not mean to be late! I'm sorry."

"What happened?" He asked coolly.

"I was stupid." I admitted, "I fell asleep as soon as I got home from the theater. I was just so tired after working today… really I'm sorry. I shouldn't waste your time like that. It won't happen again."

Immediately he soothed, "No, don't apologize." He stood up and pulled out a chair for me, which I thankfully crumpled onto. "I know you've been working hard lately. It's clear that you're tired, and my lessons on top of all your work aren't helping. After all, I know it's show week for _Swan Lake_, and that puts some pressure on you. Do you want to discontinue our lessons until after the show?"

"No!" I cried, sitting up. I was surprised at my own loud reaction, and I leaned back into the chair to relax. "No, Desmond, I don't want to discontinue our lessons. I enjoy working and being with you."

He turned his head sharply toward me. "You enjoy, _being_ with me?"

I felt myself blush. "It has nothing to do with your fame." I said, "Honestly, it doesn't. I just like… you. I like talking to you and learning from you. Whenever we talk, I feel like I'm discovering something new about myself and my voice. You're helping me learn who I am as a musician, and as a person. I admire a lot about you, Desmond. I think it's amazing how you have the discipline to do so many things and do well at them. And even though I've only heard you sing once… I think you're phenomenal at it. I hope that I'm as good as you one day."

He shook his head and stood up, leaning against the piano. "Chris, I must be honest with you. I have been working with you for almost two weeks now, and there's not much more I can teach you. All you needed was help on the basics, and you're learning those things very quickly. When it comes to the technical aspects, you're ten times better than the artists I know. If you're not as good, if not greater, than me now you will be soon. In a few days time, our lessons may need to come to an end."

"But you said that no singer is perfect." I mentioned, "You're told me this over and over again. So if I'm not perfect, I still need to learn."

"I also said that songs come with different challenges. When you sing your songs now, you easily recognize those challenges and do what needs to be done to overcome them. I don't point out your mistakes anymore, you do. Do you understand what I mean?"

I hung my head, slightly disappointed. He was right; I was kind of mentoring myself. In the past two lessons he had hardly corrected me, only helped me affirm and fix the mistakes I knew I made. As a singer that's what you do, point out what you did wrong and correct yourself. It's called professionalism, and I was reaching that point where I was becoming a professional on my voice and singing.

But I didn't want our lessons to end, and him go off into the shadows. I didn't want him to slip out of my life like that.

"I still need you." I said, "I have an audition coming up, and I need to prepare for it. I can't do it without you. Please, I still need your advice. You're not just going to abandon me, are you?"

I heard him walk over to me, and pull up the piano bench right across from where I was sitting.

"I won't go, okay?" He whispered in that low, soft voice of his that made me believe anything he said, "I won't go. I promise."

I looked up at him. "Okay."

There was a slight pause as we gazed at each other, but suddenly he spoke again.

"Chris, what do you want?" He asked.

I turned my head to the side. "What?"

"Tell me what you want right now. You've been working so hard lately, with your lessons and the theater, I think that you deserve something. If there is anything you want that I could give you, I want to know."

I pulled a leg up to my chest and sighed. There was one thing I wanted, but would he be willing to give it to me? Or… would he trust me enough to give it to me?

"May I see your face?" I asked.

To my surprise he recoiled from me as though my words had stung him. He stood up and moved behind the piano bench, pushing his hair back nervously.

"No." He answered, "Chris, no."

"But," I said, standing to walk toward him, "you can trust me! I swear, if I recognize you, I won't tell anyone who you really are! I know what it's like to have people judging you because of who you are, or who people think we are, and it's terrible. I'd never, ever, do that to you."

"No. I can't let you see me. I can't take that risk." He turned around, and I noticed he was shaking slightly.

"I won't judge you," I placed a hand on his arm, "I won't judge you Desmond."

He sighed, and moved to face me again. He placed his hand gently over mine and shook his head.

"Chris," He said, "for the very first time in a long, long time I've been treated like a normal person—by you. I've missed that normality of talking with someone, sharing music with someone, without worrying if they'll leave because of who I am. I will give you anything else you want, but not that."

I studied his eyes that seemed so old, so sad. He was pleading with me, begging I realized. Who was I to ask for something he found so precious… the chance to be normal around me? What had happened in his life to distrust people so much? Who, or how many, had burned him? Well, I refused to be another person on that list who hurt him. I couldn't bring myself to ask him again for a glimpse at his face, and break the trust we were beginning to have.

I turned my hand up, so that my fingers could close around his. In that single gesture I was trying to show I understood, that I wouldn't go as long as he didn't go… that I wouldn't do any damage.

"Sing for me then." I said, "I won't ask that you show me your face, but I want you to sing for me."

He nodded. "That, I am more than willing to do for you."

He lead me over to the piano bench, his hand now holding onto mine, and lowered me down next to him as he sat at the piano. I did as he wanted me to, and soon our hands parted. I placed mine on my lap, and he placed his at the white keys. Soon, he began playing an intro to a song… and then he opened his mouth to sing:

"_Goodnight, my angel_

_Time to close your eyes_

_And save these questions for another day_

_I think I know what you've been asking me_

_I think you know what I've been trying to say_

_I promised I would never leave you_

_And you should always know_

_Wherever you may go_

_No matter where you are_

_I never will be far away"_

Tears came to my eyes as he sang. God, his voice was so rich, yet gentle and silky. I felt like I could wrap myself in it, like a blanket, and be embraced by it forever. And he had a wonderful high register. Strong, yet soothing.

"_Goodnight, my angel_

_Now it's time to sleep_

_And still so many things I want to say_

_Remember all the songs you sang for me_

_When we went sailing on an emerald bay_

_And like a boat out on the ocean_

_I'm rocking you to sleep_

_The water's dark and deep_

_Inside this ancient heart_

_You'll always be a part of me"_

At this point he played a small piano solo, and I leaned against his shoulder. By now goose bumps were up and down my arms, and silent tears were coming out of my eyes. It took all I had to not snivel or burst into sobs. But suddenly he turned to me, gazing softly at my face, and sang the last part. Then, I almost lost it.

"_Goodnight, my angel_

_Now it's time to dream_

_And dream how wonderful your life will be_

_Someday your child may cry_

_And if you sing this lullaby_

_Then in your heart_

_There will always be a part of me_

_Someday we'll all be gone_

_But lullabies go on and on _

_They never die_

_That's how you_

_And I_

_Will be"_

He played the ending of the song, and like birds taking flight, lifted his hands off the piano when he was done.

"That was beautiful." I sniffed, wiping tears from my eyes, "How anyone on Earth can have a voice like yours, I'll never know."

"Sometimes, God gives us things to make up for what we lack." He said, reaching forward to catch a stray tear falling down my cheek.

"What could you lack?" I said, "You're a kind, sweet, thoughtful person. I don't think you lack anything."

He shrugged. "You'd be surprised." He sighed.

"When did you learn that song? It's a Billy Joel one, right?"

"Yes, it is. I really like his stuff. But I learned it after I met you. It took me an hour, but I finally got it right."

"Only an hour?" I laughed a bit. "Really Desmond, you never cease to amaze me."

He smiled. "As you do me, my dear. As you do me."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen: Fall Apart

"So, he wouldn't let you see his face, after he offered to give you _anything_?"

I looked over at Maggie as we walked toward the theater, and shook my head. It was Wednesday, the day before the opening night of _Swan Lake_. Today we would be going through a final run through, which for me meant if a dress broke while on stage today, I'd have to find a way to fix it and make sure it didn't happen with the other costumes in the next twenty-four hours. It really stressed me out, but at least I didn't have to dance for two hours. If I was so stressed, I couldn't help but wonder how Maggie was feeling. She was the lead after all.

But she seemed to be taking it with strife, and hadn't complained once about the stress to me. It seemed to be the farthest thing from her mind, since she'd been asking me so many questions about Desmond lately. I think talking about the mysterious person who was giving me lessons was a good distraction. The less you thought about the show, the less worried you were.

"So he told you, you could have anything," She said, "anything he could give you…"

"Yes Maggie, anything! If I hear that one more time, I'm going to throw you across the stage." I laughed, "But what's your point?"

"I just think that it's funny that he didn't give you the one thing you desired."

I shrugged. "Well, I understand. He was obviously hurt by someone who took advantage of his fame, and hurt bad. All he needs is time."

"But what if you never know the truth, Chris? What if he never tells you?"

"He'll tell me. I know he will. Whenever he sings, he's sharing a secret part of him. Nothing is more personal to a musician than their music. If he trusts me enough to share his music, then soon, he'll share his identity."

At that moment Maggie took my arm, and gently lead me to a bench outside a storefront.

"Hey!" I cried, "What are you doing? We have to go to the theater!"

"Chill, we can afford to be a little late." She said, as we sat down on the bench, "I have to talk to you about this."

"About what?"

"About Desmond. Chris, I don't have a good feeling about this. I think he's lying to you."

"Lying? He's never lied to me."

"When it comes to your singing, I bet he hasn't. But he's told you so little about himself personally. Maybe what he's told you is the truth, maybe it's not… but if it is, do you think he's telling you everything? I mean, honestly, why would someone famous come to Belleview to escape fame? Why not just go to an island somewhere?"

"Belleview is the most unassuming place in the world." I reasoned, "Who would think to look for him here?"

She took a deep breath. "Look, I'm only saying all this because I'm worried. I don't want you to get lessons from this guy, and then find out he's an axe murderer or psycho on the run. He could be violent or something."  
>"He's not violent at all. If you watched him move, and talked to him, you'd know he wasn't violent. I'm almost tempted to say he's one of the most gentle people I've ever been around."<p>

"Well, at least promise me this: keep me updated on him, and if something happens to you or you go missing, allow me to go to the police about what I know on this guy."

I laughed. "It'll never happen Maggie, but okay. I promise to keep you posted, and if something happens, let you go to the police."

She stood up, giving me a smile, and I stood too. "Okay. Now, let's get going. I bet if we run, we can make it to the theater on time."

Taking her advice, we soon made it to the theater ten minutes later, with Richard waiting for us at the door. His arms were crossed and he was gazing at the street as though looking for someone… and I guess that someone was us, since as soon as he laid his eyes on Maggie and I, he bolted in our direction.

"You guys picked a good day to be late!" He said, as we slowed to a walk, "Mrs. Dublin can't make it to rehearsal."

"Are you serious?" Maggie asked.

"Yeah, she just called the theater. As soon as she got home last night she started throwing up, and she's still recuperating today. She says she'll be fine by tomorrow, and to try to do one run through with Mrs. Gardens watching. She trusts us though. She said we've been doing awesomely these past few days, and that we'll be ready to go by tomorrow."

"I'm glad my mom used to be in ballet." She said, "She'll be able to give good advice."

I nodded in agreement. "I'm sure she will."

As we walked into the lobby Rich turned to me. "Chris, are we still on for Saturday?"

"Why wouldn't we be?" I said.

"I was just making sure. I finally figured out what I'm wearing for the theme."

"What?"

"You'll have to guess!"

At that point we walked into the theater, and he ran off to report to Mrs. Gardens. I said goodbye to Maggie, and I walked backstage to help out the troupe with their costumes.

It was about two hours later, and since putting on the costumes and makeup had taken time, they had only gotten through half of the first act to _Swan Lake_. I was backstage, sitting next to Richard on a wooden bench, watching them. He had a headset on him, which allowed him to speak into a walkie-talkie and give orders to any other crewmembers that had a headset or earpiece. Since the dance sequences were long, that didn't happen often. Which I liked, since that gave us time to play around or talk quietly.

"Your costumes are holding up great." He said, "I don't think one of them has torn."

"Thanks. I don't believe a costume should ever come undone. It needs to be well made in the beginning, so that there aren't problems later on." I leaned against the back of the bench, and was surprised to find his arm across it. I smiled as he inched it onto my shoulders, and I reached up to take his hand.

"If we keep doing this, people are going to think we're an item." I warned.

He laughed softly. "Well, aren't we?"

I turned my head to him, unsure of what to say. Immediately he saw my trepidation.

"I'm sorry." He said, "If I'm rushing things, tell me."

I sighed, taking my hand from his. "Rich, I just don't know how well this'll work out, since you've been my best friend for so long. I'm afraid I'll end up losing a friendship, and not just a crush."

"Hey, if the timing is right, it'll all come together." He comforted, "I know it will. But… I do want one slow dance at the party."

"Don't worry," I said, "I think I can guarantee you a slow dance or four."

At that moment we were pulled away by a high-pitched scream, and the screeching halt of the orchestra. Richard and I jumped up quickly from our spots, and darted on stage.

"Something's wrong," He said, pushing the backstage curtains out of our way, "God, I can feel it!"

We found ourselves on the stage, and saw a group of ballet girls gathered around someone. I could hear Maggie's voice say through the din, "Jamie, what happened?"

I felt my stomach drop like a rock. I could see now that the ballet girls were circling Jamie, and that she was crouching on the ground in tears. She was like a little sister to everyone, being the youngest at fourteen, and we were all protective of her… which I guess is why I reacted like I did.

Rich and I ran over there, and quickly took control of the situation until Mrs. Gardens could get on stage.

"Back up!" I ordered, "Back up!"

The ballet girls did so, and parted to let me through. Richard stayed behind to survey the situation and figure out what was going on. I kneeled down next to Jamie, whose auburn hair had come out of its tight bun and whose green eyes had gone red and wet with crying. She was pale and her thin body was shaking, something that unnerved me right off.

"Jamie," I soothed, "Jamie doll, what happened?"

"I can't tell you!" She sobbed, "I can't! You'll laugh at me, and be angry because I ruined rehearsal!"

"I won't be mad. Can you tell me?"

"I, I can't! You won't believe me! I can't believe it myself!"

I put an arm around her, and drew her close to my side. She welcomed my embrace by leaning on my shoulder.

"Are you hurt?" I said.

"No," She answered, "I fell, but nothing's twisted or sprained. I just got scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Chris, I can't tell you!"

"Of course you can. I swear, I won't laugh or get angry. Super promise." I rubbed her back, still trying to comfort her. I wanted to figure out what had happened, if not for everyone else's sake but for hers. Something had spooked her, something bad. She was the most sensitive and most sheltered out of all our ballet girls, and I didn't want her to her to feel unsafe or nervous.

She finally opened up, looking up at me dead in the eye, "Chris, I saw him… I saw the Theater Ghost!"

At that second the faint talking from the girls in the ballet group stopped. Mrs. Gardens had started to walk towards us with Richard, but didn't seeing I was coaxing the story out of her. Instead she stood back with everyone else, listening.

"Jamie, everyone sees the Theater Ghost." I said, actually relieved that the only thing that spooked her was Desmond, "I know it's scary, but he's never harmed anyone…"

"You don't understand!" She cried, "I saw him without his mask!"

People gasped all around me, and even I drew in a quick breath. "What?"

"I saw him without his mask! God, it was terrible, Chris!"

"What did you see?" I asked.

"I only caught a glimpse of it, but it was horrible. His face was melted, like a candle, and he was missing an ear."

"Where did you see him?"

She pointed up slowly, and I followed the direction of her finger. I noticed, in shock, that she had seen the Theater Ghost exactly where I had, on the catwalk. But, that couldn't be right. She had to be seeing things. Desmond didn't have a face like that, and he wouldn't put on a mask as horrible as that to scare ballet girls. Ever.

"Come on, Jamie." Mrs. Gardens said, walking towards her and helping us both up, "Let's get you some water and wipe your face, okay? Everything's going to be fine." She turned toward the cast members and said, "There shall be no discussion about this outside the theater! Whatever happens in here stays in here. You all are free to go to lunch now. I expect you back by one, and we'll go from the second act."

Maggie, Richard, and I stood there dumbly as the crowd dispersed to change into something more comfortable to grab lunch in. I leaned against Richard, feeling slightly depressed and trying to puzzle out what had happened myself. How could this be? Had Desmond really scared someone as bad as that?

"I'm going to get my wallet out of my backstage locker." Richard said, bringing me from my thoughts, "You need something to perk you up, and I'm buying. How about a milkshake from _McDonalds_?"

"Yes, that'd be great." I said, "Thank you."

Hearing me, he bent down and kissed the top of my head. "For you my friend, and for the girl I like." He whispered before leaving.

Now it was only Maggie and I, and I could feel her uneasiness. She was thinking the same thing I was about Desmond. I could sense it.

"It wasn't him." I stated.

"Chris," She began.

"No." I said, "It wasn't him. He would never scare her like that. All he does is leave notes and allow occasional glimpses. He doesn't terrify someone on purpose."

"How do you know that?" She asked.

"He's told me. Scaring people isn't his thing."

"So who else is doing this?"

"I don't know! A stagehand trying to be funny? I don't know." I turned away. "He wouldn't do this. He's gentle towards me. He's been nothing but kind. It's not in him to do something like that."

"It sounds like you're trying to convince yourself."

"I'm trying to convince you!" I exclaimed, finally letting a few tears fall, "If you saw him Maggie you'd understand."

I heard her sigh from behind me, and she came forward to place a hand on my shoulder. "Maybe you're right. After all Chris, I trust your judgment more than anyone I know. Just be careful when you see him, and if something happens, tell me. Let's just forget about this, and go to lunch."

I nodded in agreement, and a little while later, we were all at _McDonalds_ talking and laughing with Richard, like nothing had happened at all.

When we got back from lunch, I was relieved to see that Jamie was fully recovered from her fright. Act two went off and continued without a hitch, and after reviewing a few dance numbers and helping with costumes, everyone was out of the building by six. I was relieved to be going home, but this time, I didn't plan on taking a nap before Desmond and mine's lesson.

A few minutes later I was in my house, getting some supper ready for me. As I heated some hamburger for a taco salad on the stove, I kept thinking about what had happened with Jamie, trying to think of some logical explanation to what had occurred. Again, there was nothing I could think of that made sense of today. All the stagehands had been on a different part of the catwalk and stage, getting ready to move some scenery into place for the next scene. So they couldn't have done it. The ballet dancers were all on stage dancing, so they weren't suspects either. And it was impossible that any of the orchestra players could've pulled it off, since they were all _playing_ the music.

The only one left that could've done it was Desmond… yet I didn't believe it. How could someone who played me the sweetest lullaby and be so tender toward his music do that? There was nothing to gain from it. Finally, as I sat down to eat, I made a decision.

I didn't want to know if it was him or not. I didn't have to bring up the subject, and he wouldn't either.

About an hour and a half later I was out the door and driving towards the theater. A sick feeling sat in my stomach, like I was moving towards something dangerous, but I wasn't sure what. I parked into the closest space next to the theater entrance, and pushed open the doors.

I walked solemnly to the stage, taking my time since I was fifteen minutes early. As I made my way closer to the orchestra pit, I was surprised to hear the sound of a violin playing. I stopped dead in my tracks, and listened more closely. It sounded like _Edelweiss_. I remembered a long time ago, before my dad's business really took off, he used to play me that all the time on his violin. He played me other songs to, but that was my favorite.

I don't know why, but it hit me then how much I missed my dad. I hadn't heard from him in a week or so, and I was becoming eager for him to get home. I was handling things fine, but I missed having another presence in the house.

I climbed down the ladder into the pit, and in the dimly lit area, I could see Desmond playing the song on a dark wood violin. His eyes were closed, and he was smiling a bit. I sat down quietly in a chair to watch him, as he stood playing. His arm was fluid as he led the bow across the strings, and his movements from one note change to another on the strings weren't jerky, but smooth and graceful. He moved like a shadow, silently dancing with his violin and music… like it was his lover. I was absolutely fixated on him, and the sick feeling in my stomach left me.

Moments later he finished the song, letting his bow slide across the strings with a final, ghostly note. He opened his eyes when he was done playing, and they immediately rested on me. I didn't say anything, or more like I couldn't, being caught in a trance-like state.

"Good evening, Chris." He greeted softly, placing his violin carefully on top of the piano and pulling the bench across from me. "I take it you liked my playing?"

His voice at last pulled me out of whatever daze I was in, and I blinked a few times as I tried to clear my head. As I did so I sat up straighter, and finally responded to him.

"You play wonderfully." I said, "What you did now was absolutely beautiful. The only other person I know who can play like that is my father… and I'm almost willing to say you're better than him."

"Your father plays?" He asked.

"Yes. Well, he played. He doesn't play as much as he used to. In fact, he hasn't picked up his violin in almost seven years. But he was very, very good at it. He toured with Joshua Bell and Yo-Yo Ma."

"What's his name?"

"Christopher Davis."

He went still quite suddenly, and I saw his hands clench in his lap. "Excuse me?"

"Christopher Davis. Maybe you heard of him. He put out two CDs…"

"_Rushing Water _and _The Sound of Me_."

I laughed. "Yes! How did you know?"

He smiled a bit. "I was a big fan of him when I was younger. I heard him around the time I first started playing. I think he even did business with my father."

"Your father?" I said. I tried to rack my brain for anything Dad had told me about his days as a performer… who could he have worked with back then? "What was your father's name?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He said, catching onto my train of thought, "But now, it makes perfect sense. You being the child of Christopher Davis… of course you would have musical talent. Yet I take it violin isn't your instrument."

"No. Only piano and my own singing voice."

"I feel like such a fool, not knowing you were his daughter."

"It's all right. It's not information I volunteer."

He shrugged and drug the bench back to the piano. "Well, I know now, and I think it's fascinating. Now, we need to talk about our lesson for Thursday. That's the night of the show, and I won't be able to see you then."

"Okay. I can come in early."

"No, what you'll do is rest. You need it. After almost collapsing yesterday, I think you're drained. For the next few days, worry about the show. Look over your music now and then, but even if you auditioned now… you'd be spectacular."

"Thanks Desmond."

"Your welcome. I think you need the rest, you're going to be tired."

"Yeah, especially after the cast party on Saturday."

He turned to look at me. "Party?"

"Yes," I said, "at _Beat of the Sea_. There's going to be dancing, karaoke, food… you know, that kind of thing."

He pushed his hair back, and looked down as though in deep thought. "Saturday might be a good time to psych out the competition before Wednesday."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Saturday, perform at the party. I know its just karaoke, but do it like you're on stage. Everyone will stop to hear you. It's a good way to unnerve anyone else trying out."  
>"Wow, that's diabolical."<p>

His eyes glinted with humor, and he said, "You're good enough to do that, Chris. I think you should take a song you know well and perform."

"I can't do it without you there," I confessed, "it would feel wrong if you weren't there when I first performed for an audience." At that moment, an idea hit me. "Maybe you could go with me and my friends to the party."

"No." He stated, "I don't want to be stared at like a circus freak."

"But Desmond, no one would know who you are. Everyone's wearing masks to the party. There's a theme this year: _A Midsummer's Masquerade_."

"Chris, I can't." He sighed, looking down. "I haven't been around a lot of people in a long time. You know I can't."

I shrugged. "I had to try, you know? I just had to try."

He nodded in understanding. For a while there was silence between us, and without another word, he turned to play a few scales on the piano. "Sing on bah, please." He said.

I did as he instructed, and tried to sing my best for him… since this would be the last time I did so for a while. The next time he saw me I would've performed in front of a crowd for the very first time. My voice would no longer belong to him, but to others too.

When I was done warming up he said suddenly, "I'll be at the party, Chris. You won't see me, but I'll be with you. I'll be watching you, supporting you."

I felt overjoyed hearing this, and I couldn't help myself as a large smile burst on my face. Not even thinking, I leaned forward to wrap my arms around his broad shoulders in a hug.

"Thank you!" I said, "You don't know how much this means to me! I know it's hard for you to do something like that… so thank you so much!"

He was quiet for a moment, but I felt him reach his hand up and wrap itself around my forearm across his chest. His head leaned back against my shoulder, and I turned my cheek toward the side of his hair. That was when I heard him say something, and he spoke so quietly, I had to strain my ears to hear him.

"No Chris," he whispered, "thank you."

"For what?" I said.

His fingers tightened gently around my arm. "For _this._" He breathed.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen: Surrender

_Erik's Diary: June 28__th_

_At this moment I fear for my judgment and sanity. This choice I have made is not something I would've done a few weeks ago. I have decided that in a few days time, I shall be in a large crowd and risk my identity being found out. And all for the sake of my muse, my singing angel, who hums in my dreams and gives me a few hours of peace each night: Chris. _

_ I've tried to give a logical reason to why I have decided to go out in public after all these years. Do I miss human interaction? Do I believe that I have become so crafty, that I can move around in the shadows like I was invisible? Do I want myself to come out about who I really am? _

_ The answer to all these inquires is: NO. Even today I was seen without my mask for the very first time as the Theater Ghost. The string that held my mask around my head snapped, it finally becoming too frail after not adjusting it for the past two years. A ballet girl saw me from the stage, and I heard she almost fainted. I'm not sure though, because of course, I left. I didn't want the stagehands to find me gawking on the catwalk. I maybe out of my head, but I'm not too far gone._

_ I know Chris was there; I have an undeniable feeling she was. But she mentioned nothing about her day to me when I saw her for our lessons. In fact, she was quite calm and unassuming. She has to know it was me who accidentally scared the ballet girl. And yet, she remained silent, like a priest who had heard (or more like overheard) a confessional. Perhaps if she had asked me about the girl, I wouldn't be resolved to take this chance… and I suppose part of it is also the way she embraced me._

_ Her touch, her arms tight around me, are my reward for this foolish endeavor. I had no idea that a woman's touch can be so intoxicating. Surely, if I were to see and experience all the wonders of this Earth, none would be like the feeling of her skin. _

_ So here is my foolish decision: I am going to watch Chris perform at _Beat of the Sea_ on Saturday during her cast party. And of course a cast party means _people. _I'm still surprised at my own actions, but I have thought this through. Every year on Halloween night I walk around town, since it's the only night I can go out without seeming out of place. I have been to the building a few times, so I know there is a back door I can get in through without being noticed too much. And, this cast party's theme is _A Midsummer's Masquerade_, so I will wear a disguise so that no one recognizes me or inquires about my appearance. Also I will stay in the shadows and fade in the background (something I am extremely good at). And yet, even though all of this is planned out in my head, I fear discovery. _

_ If anyone were to know who I was, I 'd lose my peace and security forever. And the shame… the shame I would bring on my family. _

_ I could never bring myself to shame my mother and father's legacy. Never._


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen: Rhythm

I listened to the audience from backstage, beaming with pride for my friend and the ballet girls. Tonight had been the final night of _Swan Lake_, and everything had gone off without a hitch. Richard was next to me, his arm wrapped around my shoulders, and he was grinning too.

"They've done awesome the past few nights." He sighed, smoothing his hair back, "I'm so glad I've gotten to be a part of this."

"Me too." I said, leaning into him, "It's been a blast!"

"Are you ready for the party tonight, Chris?" He asked, looking down at my quizzically. I gave a sly smile.

Of course he would ask that—I wasn't even wearing my dress yet! After hours of searching I had finally found my old homecoming dress in the back of my closet, and had decided not to have him see me in it till we were at _Beat of the Sea_. I had done my makeup after intermission, but since the lights were off backstage, he had no clue about my transformation. Now, all I had to do was whip my hair into a messy bun, and throw on my dress and jewelry. In no time, I'd be ready to go.

"Oh, you'll see when I get back." I said, slipping away to follow the other girls to the dressing room.

On my way there, I was lost in thought. For the very first time in Gardens Theater History, everything had gone exactly as it was supposed to. The costumes didn't tear, the scenery didn't break, and none of the dancers damaged anything. The orchestra had sounded better than ever, and the drama was all low key. The only flare up there was, was when Jamie had lost her ballet shoes… and that only lasted a few minutes after I found them underneath her clothes in the dressing room. This was the easiest show I had ever worked, and even though I was busy practicing my music for the audition later, my experience had been pretty low stress.

"Girls, the show was AWESOME tonight!" I yelled, bursting into the dressing room. Most of them smiled and cheered with me as I came in, but the few who didn't were in a hurry, trying to slip on their dresses for the party. It was nine thirty, and the party was set to start at ten. I followed in suit; quickly taking off the suit I had worn to work that night and quickly slipping my dress over my head.

"Chris, I love it!" One of the ballet girls said, as soon as I was zipped up in the back. Hearing her comment, I blushed.

It wasn't the best dress out of the many there, but I liked it. It was black with a few cloth roses pinned to the side. It was a full-skirted number that came down to my knees and was sleeveless. With it I wore a red rhinestone chocker with matching earrings. My makeup: red and black eye shadow with mascara and foundation.

"Ladies, I present to you, the belle of the ball!" Maggie announced, waving her hand dramatically in my direction.

"Yeah, yeah." I giggled, reaching behind my head to tie my black mask over my face, "And look at you! Ms. Swan Princess with your blue dress!"

She twirled around once in a mock model way. But despite her lightness about it, she honestly looked gorgeous too, and I would even be willing to say was the most beautiful one there. She had actually bought her dress at the local boutique, and the diamonds she wore on her neck and in her ears were real. Her hair was a flow of dark curls down her back, and with her blue eye shadow and minimal makeup, she looked like a natural Cinderella. All she needed was the white and blue mask, and she would be ready to go to an actual ball!

In minutes we were walking out on stage to meet Richard, our ride to the party. I had driven with Maggie to the show that evening, since I had been over at her house before hand to practice my song with Mr. Gardens, so I didn't have my car. Of course her father had all ready memorized most of the music, and he praised my singing. But he always did that…

"Dear Lord Chris, you're beautiful."

I turned to Rich who had spoken behind me, and it was then I saw he had changed for the party too. I grinned, and put a hand on my hip.

"Well," I said, "you're not looking too bad yourself, Richard."

He smiled. He was wearing dark jeans, a navy button down shirt, and a black crap vest with converse. His hair was slicked back, and he wore a blue mask that covered the upper half of his face.

"Man," He sighed, looking at Maggie and I, "I think we're all looking pretty good, aren't we?"

"At least right now." I teased, "Anyway, we're ready to go whenever you are."

"Great. Let's move then."

We began our trek to the parking lot, passing a few of the ballet girls and theater audience as we did so. A few of the patrons stopped us, to give Maggie a quick congratulations on her performance. I could tell she enjoyed the attention, even though she always felt shy when meeting her admirers.

At last we climbed into Richards truck, a red Ford with peeling paint. There were only three seats, all in the front: one for the driver, and two others right beside him. I found myself sandwiched in-between Maggie and Richard.

"Let's see if she'll start for me today." He joked, putting the key in the ignition. He turned it, and soon the car jolted to life. Finally we backed up, and started the short drive to the boardwalk.

"Oh my gosh, look at all the people here!" Maggie gasped, as we pulled into the parking area, "Over half the cast's arrived!"

I nodded, seeing that most of the parking spaces were all ready taken.

"Hey, why don't I drop you guys off at the door?" Rich suggested, "I might have to fight for a spot by the looks of it."

"You sure? We can wait on you." I said.

"Nah, don't worry. Just go in and get the dance floor warmed up, all right?"

He cruised up to the large white building, which held the neon words _Beat of the Sea_ on top. We got out of the car after thanking Richard, and made our way to the entrance. We could hear music blaring from the glass doors, and we saw lights flickering inside. An usher dressed in black held the doors open for us, and as he did so, we stepped inside.

There had to have been at least ninety people inside. Most of them were on the huge dance floor, lit up by different colored lights that shone through the translucent tiles. But the rest of the cast members were at the bar or sitting at the different booths, ordering soda or some type of fried club food. The walls, painted black, were made bight by all the lights coming off the dance floor and ceiling. Thanks to those lights I was able to see easily I make my way to the coatroom in near the bar. A tall woman was manning it, and she watched us carefully as Maggie and I set out clutch purses inside, making sure we didn't steal anything.

After coming out of the room, the DJ (who had a sound board with large speakers set up at the far back area of the dance floor) stopped the ear pounding music to speak.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" he said into the mic, "Are we all having a good time tonight?"

The reply was a happy sounding chorus of yells and screams from the crowd. I smiled. I always loved partying with the theater staff.

"All right, well for all those who just arrived, I'm DJ Walker, your MC for the night. And my job is to make this party HAPPENING! So, if you have an issue with a song, or have a request, please inform me. After all, I'm here for your entertainment." With that the opening beats of an Adam Lambert song came on, and everyone cheered in delight. The music called to me, and I couldn't ignore its pull. I looked over at Maggie to see an anxious look on her face. She clearly felt the same, and we left our high heels underneath a nearby table to dance:

"_No escaping when I start_

_Once I'm in I own your heart_

_There's no way to ring the alarm_

_So hold on until it's over_

_Oh!_

_Do you know what you got into  
>Can you handle what I'm about to do<em>

_Cause it's about to get rough in you_

_I'm here for your entertainment_

_Oh!_

_Bet you thought I was soft and sweet_

_You thought an angel set you off your feet_

_But I'm 'bout to turn up the heat_

_I'm here for your entertainment…"_

Half way through the song someone tapped my shoulder, and I turned around to see Richard.

"You got a parking space?" I asked (well, more like yelled) above the music.

"Yeah!" He said into my ear, trying to keep up with Maggie and I's dancing, "Found a spot in the back." He moved closer, one of his arms sliding around my waist. A sick feeling came to my stomach, and I instinctively I took a step back. Something didn't feel right.

"Thank you!" I said, "I owe you one."

I continued dancing with Richard only a few feet apart from me. He would reach out to place a hand on my shoulder or waist, but I would spin away from it or shake it off. I was relieved when the song ended, and the DJ spoke into the mic again.

"All right!" He said, "Man, you guys are a beautiful crowd tonight! Nice dancing, from all of you! Now, I think we should take a quick moment to thank the person sponsoring this party—" He held up his hand, indicating to someone at the bar. "Ms. Candice Williams!"

Everyone went silent and looked to see if she was really sitting there. I moaned, realizing she was.

She had planted herself on a stool, her long fingers wrapped around a glass of soda. She smiled as everyone clapped for her, showing that she had a bit of red lipstick on her teeth. Her legs, clad in black sparkly shorts, were crossed and she wore a red tank with sequins. Her hair was piled on her head in a sad attempt of an updo, and foundation caked her face. Her eye shadow was a bright green, making me think of the neon lights outside, and her mascara was clumped on her eyelashes.

"She shouldn't be here." Maggie whispered, leaning into Rich and I, "She's not even part of the cast!"

Richard crossed his arms, sighing. "She sponsored the party. If her family paid for all this, then I guess she has all right to be here. But still, she's got some nerve."

"Now everyone," DJ Walker began, bringing our attention back to him, "we're going to take a break from dancing to do some karaoke! Anyone is welcome to take the mic, and try their hand at a song or two. I all ready have a request up here, so as this person performs, feel free to walk up to the DJ booth, and suggest a song you'd like to sing. But for now, give it up for our first singer of the night, Candice!"

"Crap. I guess this means we'll have to listen to her all night." Mags groaned. Looking at her and Richard, I realized that if I was going to sing, now was the time. Candice, and probably some of my other competition for a spot in the talent show, were here, and if I could at least freak her out, then it would make me coming here tonight worthwhile.

Without saying a word to Richard or Maggie, I began to walk up to the DJ booth. I glanced at the masks in the crowd occasionally, hoping that maybe I'd spot Desmond somehow. I knew that he'd said I wouldn't see him, but I wanted to take some comfort in knowing he was watching me tonight. I wanted to impress him more than anyone, and show him that the work we did hadn't gone to waste.

_"You can do this, Chris."_ I could almost hear him whisper in my ear, _"Just remember… breathe!" _

The thought almost made me laugh out loud, but I took his advice, breathing in slowly as I passed Candice. By now she was singing the chorus of the song and trying to work the audience, but her eyes filled with curiosity and viciousness focused on me for a split second.

At last I walked over to the sound system, to talk to DJ Walker. He was typing something into a laptop he had, and as I approached, he looked up. He had to be twenty-four at the most, and he wore jeans with a dark purple shirt, white sneakers, and a white baseball cap.

"Hey," I said.

"Well, hello." He greeted, turning to talk to me, "What can I do for you, young lady? You gonna sing?"

"I planned on it." I said, "Think you have the song I want?"

"I'll see what I can do."

After telling him the song I wanted, he typed it into his laptop, and pulled up a track. "Is this it?" He asked.

I looked at it and nodded. "Yeah. That's what I want."

"Great! Tell me your name, and as soon as Candice is done, I'll call you on stage."

I smiled. "Thanks. It's Chris, Chris Davis."

"All right. We'll have you up here in a few."

I nodded, and made my way back to Maggie and Richard on the dance floor. Most of the crowd had sat down at the bar or booths by now, but a few brave souls remained to try to get into what Candice was singing.

"What were you talking to the DJ about?" Richard asked as I took my place beside the two of them.

"Oh, you'll see." I said.

Finally Candice sang the final lyrics of her song, and everyone clapped for her. She took a few moments to bow and say how happy she was to be here with all of us. I laughed, only wishing I could say the same.

"All right," DJ Walker said, as Candice walked back to her seat at the bar, "now, since you all took to that so well, how about we have another performer up here? Let's give it up for Chris Davis!"

As I made my up to the small, stage-like platform where Candice had sung, I was relieved to see that everyone was clapping loudly for me. I got genuine smiles from the cast members I passed, and that only gave me more encouragement. DJ Walker handed me a mic as I climbed the stairs to where I would be performing. After he did that, he rushed back to his laptop, and got ready to click on the track I wanted. He looked up at me, and I nodded. Finally he pressed on the mouse pad, and the opening measures to my song began. Hearing what I was about to sing, everyone turned in my direction, and some even walked back out to the dance floor to get closer to the performance. Finally, I began to sing:

"_Have you ever fed a lover with just your hands_

_Close your eyes and trust it, just trust it_

_Have you ever thrown a fist full of glitter in the air_

_Have you ever looked fear in the face_

_And said I just don't care"_

I looked out to the audience, to see some were slow dancing with their partners. At the bar, Candice's mouth hung open in shock. I grinned, and swayed to the song a bit.

"_It's only half past the point of no return_

_The tip of the iceberg, the sun before the burn_

_The thunder before lightning, the breath before the phrase_

_Have you ever felt this way"_

"You go Chris!" I heard someone yell from the crowd. A small section clapped enthusiastically, and more people moved closer to the platform. I made my gestures with my free hand as the song continued, and I felt myself fall into the mood of it.

"_Have you ever hated yourself for staring at the phone_

_Your whole life waiting on the ring to prove you're not alone_

_Have you ever been touched so gently you had to cry_

_Have you ever invited a stranger to come inside_

_It's only half past the point of oblivion_

_The hourglass on the table, the walk before the run_

_The breath before the kiss and the fear before the flame_

_Have you ever felt this way"_

As I sang those lyrics, I looked down to see a line of people formed at the edge of the platform. All of them were cast members, wearing masks and smiles of admiration. But one person, who was standing in the center in front of me, simply looked at me coolly. He was a man, wearing a black button down shirt, red tie, jeans, cape, and a dark fedora with a crimson hatband. On his face he had on a black mask that completely covered his forehead and cheeks. But even with the mask, the man couldn't hide his dark blue eyes, which shown with approval despite his expressionless face. When I saw those eyes, I knew who it was: Desmond.

In that moment, I began to sing to him, dedicating this moment and melody to the two of us.

"_La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la_

_There you are, sitting in the garden_

_Clutching my coffee, calling me sugar_

_You called me sugar"_

For some reason, tears began to gather in my eyes as I sang those lyrics, and I had to fight to keep my emotions in check. As cliché as it sounded, I felt like 'glitter in the air'.

"_Have you ever wished for an endless night_

_Lasso the moon and the stars and pulled that rope tight_

_Have you ever held your breath and asked yourself_

_Will it ever get better than tonight… tonight"_

At last the final notes of the song were played, and I was done singing. I wiped the tears from my eyes as everyone cheered and yelled my name.

"Man, I have never heard someone sing karaoke like that!" DJ Walker exclaimed into the mic, "Everyone, can we please give it up for Chris Davis?"

I felt myself glowing as the screams and clapping got louder, and I felt like I was walking on air as I crouched down to lower myself off the platform. But before I could, a familiar face in the crowd offered me their hand.

"Need some assistance miss?"

I looked at the owner of the hand, and he smiled at me behind a black mask.

"Yes Desmond." I said softly, "I do."

I gave him my hand, and he steadied me as I took a step off the platform. After doing so DJ Walker began playing club music again, and I gave my attention to Desmond.

"You were wonderful." He praised, as he led me over to the bar, "I'm so proud of you, Chris."

"Thanks Desmond." I said, "I'm just glad you came. I wouldn't have been able to do it without you here."

"Chris, give yourself some credit." He said, as we slid onto separate barstools, "You were wonderful thanks to your own talent, and that is that."

"Can I get you anything?" A male bartender asked suddenly from behind me.

"No, no thanks." I said from over my shoulder.

"She'll have water." Desmond answered, ignoring my reply, "After that performance, I think she could use it."

The guy nodded, and turned away saying, "I have to agree with your boyfriend, miss. You got a hell of a voice, and you should treat it well."

"Oh, he's not my…" I began, but by then he was out of earshot. I looked back at Desmond, who was leaning against the countertop giving a slight, but rare, smile.

"Here's your water." The bartender said, handing me a tall glass with ice and the treasured liquid.

"Thank you." I said, taking a sip from it.

He left then to attend to other costumers, and I continued talking with Desmond.

"You know, you look good tonight." I said, "I like your outfit. Reminds me of Zorro or something like that."

"That's funny, I was about to say you reminded me of Tatiana." He mentioned.

"You mean the fairy queen from _A Midsummer Night's Dream_?"

"Yes. You look like her right now."

I blushed and looked down at my hands. "I don't have wings." I pointed out.

"But whenever you sing, you fly."

I felt shivers go up my spine as he said that, and I reached up to push a loose strand of hair back. I was glad that the lights were dim, since I was pretty sure my cheeks were turning a darker and darker shade of red as the moments passed.

"What is it, Chris?" He asked, "Was it something I said?"

"Well, not exactly," I began, "its just that—I think that's the nicest thing a guy has ever said to me."

To my surprise, I felt his right hand slip over mine. "Then they must be pretty shy, because there are a million nice things I could say."

At that moment the DJ announced a slow song, and I saw out of the corner of my eye couples pairing off. I waited to see if Richard would come find me, but he didn't.

"Chris," Desmond said, "would you like to dance?"

I glanced at him, and our eyes locked. _I shouldn't._ I said to myself. _I'm here with someone all ready… this man is ten years older than me… I shouldn't._

"I'd love to." I answered.

He led me onto the dance floor, his hand still holding onto mine, and we moved to the back of the crowd. Carefully, he rested his free hand on my waist, while the other held mine at shoulder length. I placed my palm against his shoulder, and that was when I realized we were in a 'waltz position'.

But we didn't waltz, we just moved back and forth to the music. He kept looking at me, and I looked back at him. We didn't say anything, and even though I expected the silence to be uncomfortable, it wasn't. During the song he would occasionally spin me under his arm, or dip me back playfully, actions that made me burst into giggles. Hearing me would make him smile, and I would sometimes laugh just to see him look happy. It came to me during those moments that I didn't see him look happy often, and I wanted him to be happy while he was with me.

I could hear the song coming to an end, and I wondered what we would do after it was done. Would we part ways, or go back to the bar to talk? Or maybe I could convince him to stay in the back of the crowd, and dance with me…

Out of nowhere I felt someone grab my shoulder, and pull me away from Desmond. The force surprised me, and I stumbled, almost falling to the floor. But someone caught me before I crashed, and helped steady me.

"Oh my God Richard, relax!" I recognized the voice beside me, and realized it was Maggie who had saved me from kissing the ground.

I shifted my gaze to where Desmond stood, and it surprised me that I had actually been pushed back a few feet from where I had been dancing moments before. Desmond was still there, and Richard was in front of him where I had been, his fist clenched and his eyes narrowed. It didn't take me long to put two and two together.

"Hey!" I yelled, walking over to Rich, "What is your problem?" But he ignored me, and began barking at Desmond.

"Who the hell are you?" He interrogated.

"I think," Desmond said calmly, "that it's none of your business."

"Well _I think _it is when I see you dancing with my girlfriend!" My mouth fell open hearing his statement, and soon, I stepped in between them.

"Girlfriend?" I said, "Really, I'm your girlfriend? I don't remember discussing this."

"Well, I brought you here with me tonight, didn't I?" Richard asked.

"Yeah, you did, but I don't think we actually agreed on a mutual boyfriend/girlfriend relationship. In fact, I thought we had a conversation where we agreed that we'd just be going to this party together, and we'd see how it went. And right now," I glared at him, "I don't think it's going that awesomely."

"Well, look at it this way Chris. When I bring a girl to a dance or party, I don't expect them to be socializing with other guys. I expect them to actually hang out with me, instead of assholes that like to steal people's dates."

"_Watch it_." I ordered, "There's no reason to freak out. Just calm down."

"Calm down? You expect me to be okay with some stranger dancing with you? Chris, you're _my_ girl."

I turned away form him, not liking the possessive tone in his voice. "I'm no one's girl, Richard. And now, I'm definitely _never _going to be yours."

Before Rich could say anything, I shifted my gaze to Desmond and Maggie. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to start any drama tonight. I'll go."

"And how the hell do you expect to get home?" Richard inquired from behind me, "I was your ride."

To my surprise his hand lashed out, and his fingers closed around my arm. I spun around to face him, but before I could do anything, Desmond flew at Rich and elbowed him in the side. In less than a minute Desmond was in front of me, blocking me from any further attacks, and my so-called 'friend' was crumpled on the floor clutching his ribs.

At that moment I was thankful that the music was blaring, because no one seemed to notice what happened. While Maggie looked on in shock, Desmond took my arm gently.

"If you get your things now, I'll walk you home." He offered. I nodded, and walked back to the booth where my high heels were. Maggie followed me, and I began apologizing to her.

"I'm sorry Mags. I didn't mean to ruin your big night." I said.

She looked at me quizzically. "How did you ruin my night?" She asked, "You didn't do anything! Richard was the one being an idiot."

I shrugged and began to strap on my shoes. "Yeah, but I still feel bad."

"Well don't. I had no idea Rich was like that, and it's him I'm mad at, not you. I'm just glad you guys didn't hook up. If he's like this when you two aren't dating, it would be hell if you were." I gulped, realizing how right she was. It was a scary thought.

"So," She said as we walked into the coatroom, "who was that guy anyway?"

"What guy?" I murmured, confused.

"That guy who pretty much KO-ed Richard. Who was he?"

"Oh," I said, crouching down to grab my purse off a bench, "just someone. Anyway, do you have a ride home? You can walk home with me if you want."

"Okay firstly, my mom is picking me up after the party, and secondly, don't be so elusive. Who's the guy?"

I stood up and sighed. "I can't tell you Maggie. Sorry."

"Come on, Chris! We're best friends. You can… oh my God." Her eyes widened with realization. "It's him, isn't it? That's Desmond."

I turned my back to her, and began walking out of the coatroom. "I can't say for sure. Now, I gotta run. Have a good night, Mags. I'll call you tomorrow if I get the chance." And that was the last thing I said to her for the rest of the night.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty: Moonlight and Madness

Desmond was waiting for me at the front entrance, and we walked out together. I was happy to be out of the loud, claustrophobic atmosphere of _Beat of the Sea_, and outside feeling the breeze and ocean mist on my face. For a while neither of us said anything, only strode side by side.

But finally, after we got off the boardwalk, Desmond spoke.

"I'm sorry about tonight," he said, "I had no idea you were there with someone."

"I guess I was," I admitted, "but not in the way you or Richard think. I thought everything was going to be casual with him at the party. I didn't think he'd take this as a serious date. Really, I should be apologizing to you."

"You didn't do anything wrong, Chris. All you did was dance with me. And," he let out a soft chuckle, "I didn't find anything wrong with it."

I shook my head and looked up at the streetlights. "I didn't find anything wrong with it either."

"Then why are we apologizing?"

I glanced over at him to see a smile on his face, and it made my heart melt. Without thinking, I reached over and took his hand.

"God, you look beautiful under these lights." He said, as we continued to peruse down the sidewalk, "If only I could capture you in a song, in lyrics."

I laughed. "And who would want to listen to a song like that?"

"I would. I'd play it over and over again."

"Well I guess, if you wrote it, I'd like to hear that song too." I glanced over at him and took a deep breath. "You know what I just realized?"

"What?"

"That I consider you one of the greatest people in my life, and I know so little about you. I mean, I know how you act and that you love the arts, but other than that…" My voice trialed off into the darkness, and I glanced down at my feet. Suddenly Desmond stopped walking, and he simply stood under the streetlight, squeezing my hand gently.

"I like what we have." He whispered, "I like this mutual liking we have for each other. I like that I can express my music and self freely with you, and I don't have to worry about any judgment. I like that I get to teach you my gift, and share in something intimate like that. And what I like the most is this—I like you. I like how you're open, and kind. I like how you're the most mature young woman I've ever talked to, and that you understand the beauty of what you hear, feel, and experience on a deep level. I don't want anything to happen to mess this up. We're good for each other, I think. Don't you?"

"I agree." I said, "But I share everything with you, and I want you to feel like you can share everything with me."

He shook his head. "If you knew about me, you'd regret saying that." We began to walk again, soon turning the corner to my house.

"I'm sorry you feel that way." I sighed, almost passing my house. "Stop, we're here."

We walked up the steps to the front door, and I took the house key out of my purse. I put it in the lock, and after turning it and the knob, I opened the door. "Thanks for taking me home." I said, looking up at Desmond, "And for helping me tonight. I had a good time talking and dancing with you."

"I'd do it all again, just to hear that." He said.

I smiled and looked down at my cell phone in my purse. I gasped, seeing it was half past midnight.

"Wow, it's pretty late." I said, "The party should be over by now."

"Yeah, I guess I better be getting home." He stated.

"You're going to walk back at this hour?"

He shrugged. "I just brought you home, didn't I?"

"Well, yeah. But we were a pair. There's not a criminal around here who would screw with two people. If you want, you can stay here."

He stared at me in surprise. "What?"

"Yeah, you can stay. I mean, if you want to. My dad's not home anyway. You can crash on his bed or the couch, whatever you'd like."

"Chris, if people saw me here with you, what would they say?"

I grinned. "I'd explain that you were my cousin, who came to visit me from Maryland. No one really cares anyway. And it's so late, I bet no one's up."

"What about you? I don't want to keep you from sleep."

I shook my head. "After what happened, I don't think I'm going to sleep well anyway." I looked past him at the dark houses, hoping he'd say yes. "Please, it would make me feel better." I added.

After a few seconds of silence, he answered. "I'll stay. But are you sure it's not too much trouble?"

"It's no trouble at all." I said, as we walked into the living room. Glancing about the area, I was glad that I had cleaned the house before going over to Maggie's that day. "So, do you prefer the couch, or a nice cozy bed?"  
>"Couch." He answered, much to my surprise.<p>

"Couch?" I said, "Really?"

"Yeah."

I shrugged, "All right, whatever makes you comfortable." I walked into the hall closet, and pulled out a spare blanket and two pillows. I was about to walk out, but I remembered that Dad had kept a pair of pajamas in his dresser, and I slipped into his room to grab them from his drawer. The long bottoms were dark and blue plaid, and the top was a white t-shirt. I walked back out, carrying the things in my hand.

"Here are some pajamas," I said, laying the clothes out on the armchair, "you can change in the bathroom if you want. It's just across the hall."

"You don't have to do all this for me, Chris." Desmond said.

"You're right, I don't have to. But I want to." I moved over to the couch, spreading the blanket over the cushions and fluffing the pillows against the armrest. "You've done so many things for me, Desmond. Just let me do something nice for you, all right?" I turned around to face him, and he nodded in understanding. Without another word, he grabbed the pajamas, and made his way to the bathroom. As soon as the door was shut I rushed to my room, and found a black tank and pink sweats to wear. It took only a few moments to change out of my dress and jewelry and into that outfit. Once out of all my finery, I removed the pins and elastic from my hair, letting it fall with it's new body and temporary curls.

The sight of Desmond leaning against the couch took me off guard as I walked back into the living room. I didn't know why for sure, but I guessed that since I had been living by myself for a while, I'd forgotten how to react when another soul was in my space. But I was glad he was there, and looking comfortable in my dad's pajamas. The only thing that really seemed odd was that he hadn't taken his mask off.

"You look comfy." I said, sitting down next to him, "Do you want anything to drink? I've got soda and lemonade in the fridge."

"I'm all right for now, but thank you." He answered.

"Okay. If you need anything, tell me."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"All right. I'll be in my room. If something is up, holler." I stood, and walked over to hallway. "Good night, Desmond."

"Good night, Chris."

I sighed, and took a step towards my bedroom door. But before I could touch the handle, my hand froze. For some reason I didn't feel right leaving him out there by himself, and me going into my room to try and sleep. After all, I knew it'd be difficult to catch a few zzzs anyway, and it probably wouldn't happen. My thoughts kept on going back to tonight and Desmond's secrets. I knew what we had was good for both of us, but I couldn't stand not knowing all of him. I felt like we were lying to each other, even though the capacity for openness was there.

I turned around, and marched back out to the living room. He was laying on the couch now, one leg slightly bent at the knee, with his hands resting on his stomach. He turned his face toward me, hearing me come back in the room, and I sat down right beside him.

"Is something troubling you, Chris?" He asked, sitting up. I nodded, yet didn't say anything. "Well, what is it?" He said, "Are you worried about Richard coming here?"

I gazed in his eyes, and opened my mouth to speak. But I couldn't. I didn't know what to say to him, or how to express what I felt.

Suddenly he stood up, and walked over to the piano in our living room. With curiosity I followed him, and both of us sat down on the bench. Years ago Dad had bought me the piano, a small black Yamaha, after his business took off. I used to play it all the time, but this summer, I hadn't gotten to do much of that.

Desmond ran his fingers over the keys, as though making sure it was in tune. And then, without warning, he began to sing.

"_I sit and wait _

_Does an angel contemplate my fate _

_And do they know _

_The places where we go _

_When we're grey and old _

_´Cause I've been told _

_That salvation lets their wings unfold _

_So when I'm lying in my bed _

_Thoughts running through my head _

_And I feel that love is dead _

_I'm loving angels instead"_

I watched mesmerized as he moved his upper body to the music, putting all his action into playing the piano. He gazed in my direction, and it didn't take me long to figure out he wanted me to harmonize the chorus with him. So for the very first time, I sang with him.

"_And through it all she/he offers me protection _

_A lot of love and affection _

_Whether I'm right or wrong _

_And down the waterfall _

_Wherever it may take me _

_I know that life won't break me _

_When I come to call she/he won't forsake me _

_I'm loving angels instead_"

The sound of our voices seemed to dance with one another, moving in perfect harmony and rhythm. We kept glancing at each other, as though searching for approval, or maybe because we couldn't believe the sound we were creating. When the chorus was over Desmond gave me another nod, he stopped singing, and I sang the next verse alone.

"_When I'm feeling weak _

_And my pain walks down a one way street _

_I look above _

_And I know I'll always be blessed with love _

_And as the feeling grows _

_He breathes flesh to my bones _

_And when love is dead _

_I'm loving angels instead"_

After this he inserted a piano solo, and I watched in astonishment as his fingers danced across the keys. I realized throughout the song I had been moving closer and closer to him, and finally, my brow was touching his shoulder. I felt him turn toward me, and he brushed his chin against the side of my head. Then, without cuing each other, we sang the final chorus.

"_And through it all she/he offers me protection _

_A lot of love and affection _

_Whether I'm right or wrong _

_And down the waterfall _

_Wherever it may take me _

_I know that life won't break me _

_When I come to call she/he won't forsake me_"

At this point I dropped out, and let him sing the final lyrics alone.

"_I'm loving angels instead"_

He lifted his hands off the keys after that, and they floated over to take mine. For a while, we didn't say anything, only held each other's hand. After a few moments of stillness I finally dared to look up at him, and I saw that he had been looking at me. I moved my face closer to his, and he leaned down toward me. Suddenly, the gap closed between us, and our lips touched.

I hadn't expected us to go that far, so the kiss took me off guard. Before I realized it, my arms were wrapped tight around his neck, and his hands circled my waist. I felt my heart pounding and heat rush to the back of my neck, while my front pressed into his. The kiss wasn't a wet one, nor anything overly passionate, but for some reason I liked it more than any other kisses I had ever received. Of course, I had been with other guys before, only going as far as making out backstage in the school auditorium or in the last row of the movie theater, but my experiences weren't limited. So I didn't understand why his lips pressing against mine felt so good—and so right.

But soon I was pulled out of my feelings of euphoria by a single, reality shocking thought: _Oh my God, this man is ten years older than me._

My eyes that were closed in satisfaction and happiness shot open, and I tore myself out of his arms. I moved so quickly I almost fell over the piano bench, and when I stood up, I was shaking. I stepped back over to the living room wall; pressing my back against it for support, and breathing so hard I was afraid I would hyperventilate. Desmond seemed surprised too, but he stood up as though to walk over to me.

"Don't come near me." I wheezed, "Do not make another move towards me!"

"Chris, I'm sorry." He said, "I didn't mean to—"

"Don't say you didn't mean to!" I yelled, now pissed off. "You're ten years older than me and taking advantage of me."  
>"Please, let me explain—"<p>

"You don't have to explain crap! Just get out of my house!"

"Chris, please…"  
>"I said get out!"<p>

"I'M NOT REALLY TWENTY-SEVEN!"

I gaped at him, shocked that he could speak so loudly. I had never heard him shout before, ever. His voice was either just loud enough for me to hear him, or a gentle whisper. I blinked a few times, allowing myself to process his statement and his tone. But as soon as I thought through both, I called his bluff.

"Bull," I scoffed, "don't tell me you're lying to me about your age. That's pathetic."

"I know it's pathetic, but it's the truth." He said, "And… I've lied to you about other things too."

"Okay, let's say you aren't really lying. How old are you?"

"Nineteen. And before you say anything else, I'm not really a famous performer or singer. But I am a playwright, and I have designed sets before. I'm actually fairly well known in the theater world."

"So, I'm guessing you also don't have a degree in music."

"No, I do. I just took online courses. I've been schooled online my whole life, and thanks to that, I was able to graduate early."

I looked down. "This is crazy." I sighed, "Everything that you're telling me, it's crazy. You've been lying to me this whole time, so how am I supposed to know if you're telling the truth or not? Tell me Desmond, what am I supposed to believe?"

"I understand," he soothed, "I know your angry. I would be angry too if anybody had done to me what I've done to you."

I glared at him. "You have no freaking idea, Desmond. None."

He turned away. " I suppose not. I'll go then, Chris. Just give me a moment to change into my clothes, and I'll leave." He began to walk towards the bathroom. "I'm so sorry I did this to you. I'll never forgive myself."

I watched him as he passed me, and noticed that his eyes were glazed over with guilt and sadness. His mouth was pressed into a tight line, and he truly looked like he hated himself. I knew that I should probably just let him leave, and ask to never see him again. But, I just couldn't ignore his eyes…

"You're such a damn bleeding heart." I muttered, following him into the hall.

I found him about to open the door leading to the bathroom, and I placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"Look," I began, "you can do two things for me right now. Either you can walk away from me right now, and leave me alone for the rest of my life. Or," I paused for a moment, "you can stay, explain to me who you are, and promise me that you won't lie to me like this ever again. So, what's it going to be?"

He gazed at me in trepidation, and he said shamefully, "After I tell you about myself, you'll never want to see me again, Chris. Either way this is goodbye."

"Then what do you have to lose now?" I whispered.

He gave me a sad smile. "I suppose nothing."

He took step back from the door, and I followed him back out to the living room. He collapsed on the couch, as though his sadness had drained him, and he rubbed the back of his neck. I sat on the other end, and made myself comfortable, pulling my knees up to my chest and resting my head on them.

"I'm ready when you are." I said.

"What do you want to know first?" He asked.

I said the first thing that came to my mind. "Your face."

Desmond's eyes widened, and he moved back. "Chris, please…"

"You promised." I reminded him, "You said you'd tell me everything."

"But this is too much. Without this mask, you'll see why I lied to you, and maybe wish that I kept on lying."

"I'm not afraid to know the truth. And you shouldn't have to hide from me. It's not fair to either one of us."

He shook his head. "Chris, I _can't_."

"Well, if you can't," I said, "then let me."

I reached over towards him, and he backed up against the couch. His right hand immediately flew up to his mask, and the other pushed my arm away.

"All right, I'll do it!" He snapped.

I moved away from him, yet he still seemed tense. I gave him a few moments to calm down, but finally he sat up and reached toward his mask. Everything happened in slow motion, as his fingers grasped the edge of it, and slowly pulled it off. When I saw his face, I couldn't help but let out a gasp, and my palm flew to my mouth to stop a scream.

In that moment three things happened. Number one: I understood why Desmond had chosen to keep his face hidden from me. Number two: I thought about Jamie and how she had claimed to see the Theater Ghost. And number three: I realized that Desmond had to have been the one to scare her, since her description of what she had seen was exactly what I was looking at now.

His face was scarred terribly, looking like a wax figure that had gotten to close to a fire. He didn't have eyebrows, and his nose was almost completely gone. For the very first time I noticed that his right ear, which was usually covered by hair, was close to non-existent. Another thing I took note of were his eyelids, and that when he blinked, I saw they too were wrinkled and scarred. It was clear by his smooth jaw line and unblemished lower cheeks that he hadn't been born this way, and that something must've happened. But what could've caused such damage?

The sight of his face left me fearful, astounded, and most of all, sympathetic. I wanted to turn my eyes away, but at the same time, couldn't. If I did, all that it would've proved was that he was right to lie to me, since in the end I would've run. But I wasn't going to run. Despite his face, which was horrifying, I knew that, that was all it was: a face. It wasn't the Desmond I knew who was kind, intelligent, patient, talented, and giving. It was just the outside package that hid the beauty inside.

"Well," I said, finally daring to speak, "I hate to tell you this Desmond, but I don't think you're going to be a Calvin Klein model."

He blinked in surprise at my reaction. "You're not afraid?"

I shrugged. "I was when I first saw you, but you don't have a chainsaw, so I think I'm safe."

Hearing me, he gave a small laugh and a glimpse of a relieved smile. "You—you aren't disgusted?"

I moved closer to him as my answer, and finally smiled myself. Slowly, I reached out to touch his cheek. It was surprisingly rough and hard, despite it's fragile looking appearance. After I had stroked his face for a while without him stopping me, I let my other hand rise up to caress it too.

"Does it hurt?" I asked.

"No." He answered, "Not at all. The only thing that hurts is when I wear my mask for a long period of time, and it rubs my skin raw."

"Oh. Then don't wear your mask around me." I continued to trace the contours of it, and at one point my thumb ran across his bottom lip. He grabbed my hand when I touched that spot, and he gently planted a kiss on my knuckles.

"Desmond," I said, "do you believe me when I said I can handle the truth? Now will you tell me who you are?"

He looked down, and nodded. "Yes." He murmured.

"Great." I sighed, leaning back, "Where shall we begin?"

"With this." He began, "My name, isn't really Desmond. It's Erik—Erik Kynaston."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-one: The Sad Tale of Erik

"Twenty years ago there was a man named Isaac Kynaston… Yes Chris, _the _Isaac Kynaston, as in the famous musician your father worked with… Yes, that man is my father. He's the one who inspired my love for music. May I continue without interruptions now? Thank you, Chris."

"As I was saying, he was a musical man, being able to play piano and sing with great skill. He traveled the world, performing in places like Italy and Russia as a world-class musician. He was born in America, but his parents had been immigrants from France who had come to this country years ago, in hopes that their children would have a better life. So every year he would go back to Paris, to honor his heritage, and put on a weeklong concert series. Well, when he was twenty-seven, he was in this beloved city to perform a final show, and after it was over, his tour director ran up to him and told him that Eva Gates—yes darling, Eva Gates the opera singer—wanted to meet him at that very moment. Of course, Isaac said that she could. He was a distant admirer of her talent too, and had seen her a few times in concert. He was excited to meet Eva."

"She was sent backstage into his dressing room to meet him, and he waited to meet the older woman anxiously. But to his surprise, she was quite young. In fact, she was three years younger than him. The stage lights seemed to age her when she was performing, but when she was close to him, it was clear that she was a young and lively woman. Both of them ended up walking around Paris together, him in his suit and she in her green evening dress, and talking until dawn. They told each other of their childhoods in America, studying aboard, and the challenges of their fame. By the end of the night they were holding hands, and as the sun rose above the Eiffel Tower, Isaac told his blonde beauty that she was the woman he was going to marry. She laughed at him at first, but at least said yes to dinner the next day. Four years later, they were married."

"It wasn't long until Eva realized she was pregnant with their first child. Both of them were overjoyed. They had recently bought a renovated Victorian mansion on the outskirts of New York, and they knew that would be a wonderful place to raise a child. All the time, Eva was singing to the child in her swollen stomach, or Isaac was composing a new song on his piano for him or her. At last, on a cold winter day, Eva gave birth to a healthy, baby boy. And that child was named Erik Chopin Kynaston."

"Erik's childhood was very happy. As a young boy he would sit on Isaac's knee, and listen as his father played him a song. At the age of three Erik began to mimic his father's playing when he wasn't around, and would sneak into his room to fiddle with the family violin kept hidden in the closet. At times he would listen to his mother sing, and in his room, tried to copy what she did to sound so beautiful. He had no idea he was gifted until his father caught him playing a Mozart piece on the violin at age four, and told him that his making music was a wonderful thing, and that God had blessed him. At the same time, Erik also confessed that he could play the piano, and began playing Disney themes he had taught himself by ear for Isaac. Out of curiosity, Eva gave Erik the chance to sing with her, which he did. It was at that time in his young life that teachers from around the world began coming to this young boy to help him hone his gift. So for the next three years, the Kynaston household was filled with music, education, joy, and love."

"But suddenly Chris, it all went wrong. It all went so, horribly wrong. It was a cool spring night, a few months after Erik's seventh birthday. His parents had just tucked him into bed, and they were upstairs sleeping also. For a few hours Erik slept peacefully, and then all of a sudden, he woke up feeling like he was choking. He opened his eyes for a brief moment, but the stinging of smoke forced them to shut. Yet, in that quick glance of his room, he saw flames dancing in the halls and next to his bed. He realized that his house was on fire."

"He quickly shot out of bed, and squinting his eyes, tried to find a way to his parents bedroom. He walked up the stairs to another hall, where they were supposed to be sleeping, and he quickly opened the door to their room. What he saw… no child should ever have to see such a thing, Chris."

"He saw the smoldering, burnt bodies of his parents lying on the floor. Both of them were faced down, and looked like they had tried to crawl out of the house. Erik walked over to the bodies, unsure of what they were at first, but suddenly one looked up at him. If it was his mother or father, he couldn't tell, but it suddenly grabbed his ankle as though trying to keep him there. The young boy let out a horrifying scream, and pulled his leg away from the body. After that he turned around, and decided he would have to get out of the house alone."

"As he was running back down the stairs, he heard a terrible creaking noise from the ceiling, and looked up. In the next few moments, his life again was dramatically changed. Before he could move away burning pieces of wood and plaster toppled onto his face, and soon all he knew was searing pain. He somehow managed to brush away the flames from his body, but the horrid burning remained. That's all he knew of, burning…"

"Hours later, he woke up in a forest, surrounded by trees. He couldn't remember walking there, or how he made it out of the fire, but he was there and that was all that mattered. It was sunrise, and the forest was lit with streaks of light. At first little Erik thought the fire was all a dream, but he felt the throbbing pain of his face, and he was brought back to reality again. It all came back to him: the fire, choking on the smoke, the bodies."

"And then he realized he had to get away from those bodies! The burnt corpses that had reached out to him, and tried to make him stay in the flames. With his seven-year-old logic, Erik figured out he could never go back to his house, and no one could ever find him. If they did, the bodies would be able to find him too."

"So, he started walking. He didn't know where he was going to go, or how he was going to get there, but he had to get away from where he was. When he came to a town, he stole a hoodie and a pair of jeans from someone's clothesline, and searched in the garbage cans for food. He used to travel during the day, but that stopped when he saw his face in a bathroom mirror… and a man saw it too. Both of them screamed, and ran out of the bathroom in different directions. That was how he learned to keep his face covered, and to move in darkness. So when it was light out, he would sleep, but at night he would walk again. The days traveling turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. Erik, being a smart child, luckily knew the ways of currency and the basics of the world. He knew to be careful crossing the street, that money could buy food for the right price, and he knew how to count that money and how much a coin or dollar was worth. When he found money, he would go to the nearest gas station and buy a hot dog or piece of pizza, while keeping his face covered."

"And then one day, his traveling came to an end. He was walking one night in a new city, a city that had an ocean nearby. He had never been to the ocean, so of course Erik was attracted to the possibility of seeing something new. He began his trek out to the city, called Belleview, and by reading the signs was able to figure out where to go. By the time he was in town, it was almost midnight, and he could see that people were out. He noticed a building called _Beat of the Sea_ had people moving in and out of it, and he quickly ran to escape them."

"He kept running and didn't stop, until he crashed into an older black boy dressed in sagging jeans and a black shirt. He had to have been about fourteen, and he had a group of older friends with him, all in chains and side-ways baseball hats. Gang attire would be the correct way to describe it. The boy was angry that Erik had run into him, and he said things to him he had never heard before. He tried to explain to the boy why he had run, but before he could get everything out, the boy kicked him in the stomach."

"The gang drug poor Erik out behind a large brick building (that he learned later was the Gardens Theater) and they began to beat him. They didn't stop until they tore the hoodie he wore off his face. In shock they saw the scars that were barely healing, and they ran away from the gruesome sight. Erik tried to get up, but his head felt heavy and dizzy, so he slipped into darkness, and didn't know of anything for a long time."

"He woke up later inside a room he had never seen before. He was lying in a big bed with brown covers on it, and the room was painted orange with white stripes. Next to him, sitting on the bed, was an older woman with brown hair. Seeing he was awake, she reached over to pat his shoulder, and to tell him it would be all right. He panicked at first, thinking that the bodies would find him, but a bout of sleepiness washed over him, and he closed his eyes once more."

"The days of being in that room seemed like a blur to Erik. The young woman, who he learned was named Mrs. Gardens, took care of him. Her husband, Mr. Gardens, would also bring him food and keep him company from time to time. The kind couple nursed him back to health, and he was soon able to play piano and read again."

"Over time both people would try to ask him his name, but he would only say he was Erik, and that he didn't remember his last name. He knew he was lying, but he couldn't risk the bodies finding him again. He was happy where he was, in his orange room with new clothes and a keyboard that his caretakers gave him. They seemed to be impressed with his piano playing, and by his intelligence. After a while, they gave up on learning his identity, and by making up a new name, they managed to get him into an online school program. Erik advanced quickly in his courses, and in his spare time, he learned how to write piano music."

"Soon, the couple moved the young boy into a soundproof room in the basement, where no one would disturb him. By this time Erik was eight, and he had also discovered theater. He began reading things online about theater, and soon decided that he wanted to write musicals and plays. That his how he became a playwright and composer. Using different names, pen names Mrs. Gardens called them, he would write things and send them in to be published. Mrs. Gardens would take care of getting the shows printed, and collecting the money for him. And Erik, never wanting to go without having anything again, saved his money carefully, until Mr. Gardens helped him put his checks and cash in a bank account. For years, everything was wonderful."

"But then, things changed again. At age eleven, Erik began having nightmares and dreams about the fire, things that would scare him so much that he would go into a fury for hours. He became deeply depressed, and started to hurt himself. At last, after too many horrible events happened, it was decided Erik would live in the Gardens Theater, where the old bomb shelters used to be. Erik himself helped convert the spare rooms into living quarters, and soon he had a home he could call his own. He loved his freedom, and designing the rooms and facilities took his mind off of the nightmares. Mr. Gardens offered to pay for what needed to be done, but Erik using the royalties from his shows, did it himself. Soon he had a music room, bathroom, bedroom, kitchen, and library. Gradually things went back to normal, and Erik began living in solitude."

"Of course, as he grew older, he came to the realization that the bodies that he saw were his parents, and by doing research, was able to find out that no one discovered his house was burning until the next morning, since they lived in a remote area. Eva and Isaac were buried in a New York cemetery, and as for the son, he was presumed dead and no body was ever found. Supposedly, he had burnt to ashes. The pain in having no family was terrible, but he could not reveal who he really was. He refused to be the boy who lived, while his parents had suffered. And, who would look upon his scarred face, and realize that this man was the once the golden boy of Isaac and Eva Kynaston?"

"He went on to do many things. He wrote more shows, designed sets, and became the Theater Ghost of Gardens Theater. He even helped run the theater itself, giving Mrs. Gardens advice on shows when she asked for it. He thought he had everything he needed, and for seven years, was at peace with his life."

"That was until Erik heard a beautiful woman sing. Out of all the voices he had heard on the stage of Gardens Theater, and he had heard many, none of them were as wonderful as hers. She could do no wrong in her voice, and her looks and pure heart seemed to match it. And now, you may ask, who was this woman? Who could this marvelous person be, who forced this phantom to come out of hiding? Well, this woman was Christy Davis, the sweet heart and costume mistress of the theater."

"And here we are now Chris. My name is Erik Chopin Kynaston, and you are the only person in the world who knows who I really am."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two: Bound

I sat there, stunned by the many pieces of information. Thoughts were flying through my head faster than I could control them, and emotions were high. First off, I couldn't believe that Isaac Kynaston was Erik's father. I remember my dad telling me about working with him in his studio, and I still had the CD they had collaborated on.

"One of the nicest guys I have ever worked with." He had said, "His wife, Eva, is great too."

Oh yes, I knew all about Eva Gates. When I was thirteen and had first heard Eva sing on a cast recording of _Rigoletto_ I knew that she was the IT girl in opera. She was one of my role models, and I longed to be able to sing like her. If you could sing like Eva Gates, you would do well in the world of music and theater.

I knew that both of these people were married to each other, and that they had died—but I didn't know a fire killed them, or that they had a son. And it was shocking to realize I was sitting with and looking at that son,who apparently received their musicality and intelligence. How was it right that this person, who possessed such gifts, had to keep hidden away from the world because of his face? How was it fair that he had lost his family, and so much more, on that day of the fire?

At last I was able to process everything, and tears gathered in my eyes. I didn't know what to do or say to this man who had been through hell and back at only seven years old. So, I just said the first thing that came to my mind.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, looking up at him, "I'm sorry that you went through such pain. I'm sorry that you spent over a decade of your life alone. I'm sorry that those boys beat you up, and that you had to walk from New York to Florida just so you could feel safe. I'm sorry you suffered so much as a child. Erik, I could keep telling you I'm sorry for my entire life, and even then I couldn't begin to touch on the sympathy I feel for you." At that moment I reached out, and pulled him close to me, allowing his head to rest against my chest. I finally allowed the tears to pour down my face, and I ran my fingers through his short crop of hair, trying to somehow erase all the damage that had been done.

We didn't speak for a long time after that, for nothing needed to be said. His arms around my waist and my hold on him spoke volumes, and for a while that embrace was all we needed. At last, he was the one to break the silence.

"Do you forgive me for lying to you?" He asked timidly, lifting his head to look at me. I smiled.

"Yes," I replied, "I forgive you, and understand why you lied in the first place. But realize that you can be open with me now, Erik. And I promise, I'll keep your secrets."

"Thank you Chris."

Right after he said that his face moved toward mine, and he placed a gentle kiss on my lips. I felt that wonderful sensation I had gotten while kissing him on the piano bench, but the action itself still took me back.

"Hey, um…" I began, but before I could utter another word, he held his hand up.

"I'm sorry, I know, let's take this slow." He said, "I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, don't apologize. I know that we like each other, and that's cool and all, but we just need to take our time on this." He sat up, and I rested my head on his shoulder. He turned, and again his arms were around me. "You know Erik, we're lucky." I murmured, "Most people who like each other have friends, family, or colleagues that push them to make decisions or force an opinion on them. But we don't have any of that going on. We can decide for ourselves how to, I guess in lack of a better phrase, do this."

"What's 'this'?" He inquired.

"You, me," I took his hand, "us."

"I would like to be part of an 'us'." He approved.

I laughed. "That's awesome. I think I would too."

We both smiled at each other, and he reached over to put his mask back on his face. Before he could, I gently grabbed his wrist.

"No." I said, "I don't want you to wear your mask around me. I don't have to wear one around you, so don't feel like you need to do the same with me."

"You shouldn't have to see this." He stated.

"Oh, so I shouldn't have to see the most beautiful person I've ever been with?" I argued, "Right."

"How can I—?"

"Be beautiful? It's what you do that matters, Erik. Richard was very handsome, but because of what he did, I now see he's not beautiful. You are." I reached out to brush my finger against a patch of rough skin, which rested right below his eye. At that second I yawned, and leaned back against the couch.

"Tired?" He asked.

"Yeah." I sighed, stretching my arms, "But I want to talk with you for a while. Let's just stay here."

"That sounds fine to me."

For the rest of the night we stayed on the couch making conversation. It was nice to just talk about whatever and relax. But finally it was late, and I don't know exactly what Erik was saying when it happened, but I fell asleep to the sound of his voice.

I didn't dream that night, only experiencing comfortable darkness. I didn't wake up or move around in my sleep, and when I opened my eyes the next morning, I felt rested.

After waking up, the first thing I noticed was Erik's arms around my waist, and his chest against my back. One of his legs was lying across my own, and I could feel his hot breath move slowly across my cheek. I took a few moments to think through what happened the other night, and I reminded myself of his face. I didn't want to forget the image, turn around to see him, and have a minor freak out. He didn't need to have more trauma added to what was all ready there.

Finally I turned around carefully in his arms, and there he was. He was still sleeping, with his hair going every which way and the pajamas I gave him now wrinkled. His face, disfigured as it was, wore an expression of peacefulness. In fact, it was probably the most relaxed I had ever seen him.

At last I wiggled out of his arms, and tiptoed my way into the kitchen. I turned on the one of the burners on the stove, got out a pot, and while the stove heated up, grabbed the oatmeal container from the cabinet. In a few minutes I was adding blueberries, strawberries, and brown sugar to Erik and I's breakfast. I took time with the oatmeal, enjoying the fact that I was actually cooking for someone again. The last time I had done that was the night before my father left for Europe.

When everything was ready, I grabbed two bowls and spoons from the shelf, and mixed up some fresh orange juice. I set the kitchen table, made sure the burner was on low, and walked back into the living room to wake up Erik.

He hadn't moved from where he was, and his eyes were still closed. I smiled to myself, and even though I had told him I wanted to take it slow the night before, I decided to wake him up in the best way possible.

I bent down to where he was, and gently kissed his lips.

"Erik, wake up." I said, "Come on, I have breakfast on the table." He stirred and gave some sort of grunt, but raised his arm as though to shoo me away. Knowing he was half awake now, I gently kissed him again.

That woke him up, and quickly. Before I could move away his arms were around my waist, and he was responding to my kiss. His hand moved up my spine and to the back of my head, pulling me closer to him. Then, to my surprise (and I guess delight too) his tongue shot into my mouth.

For a few minutes he kissed me deeply and urgently, while running his hands through my hair. But finally I gathered all my self-control, and moved myself away from him. We gazed at each other for a few seconds, and I ended up looking away.

"I know you wanted to go slow." He started, "I'm sor—"

"No," I said, "it's not you. It's me, and I'm serious about that. I can't resist you Erik. When I saw you for the first time, I was drawn to you. We've known each other only for a few weeks, but I feel like since last night, we've known each other forever. I know your story, and you know mine. The truth is, I'm falling for you. It's cliché and reckless, but it's the truth. I'm actually falling for you, and I've never fallen for anyone before."

He sat up on the couch, and leaned against his thighs. Taking a deep breath, he put his head down, and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I'm honored." He whispered, "Chris, I'm touched that you feel that way. But even though I do know you, and I care for you, this is entirely new to both of us. What I'm doing is not fair to you. None of this is. I mean, have you thought about what it would be like to be with me?" I shook my head.

"I thought not," he sighed, "I won't be able to take you out much. I won't be able to do all the things a guy usually does for his girl. I want better for you."

"Don't say that to me." I said, kneeling down in front of him, "I hate that phrase. I've read too many stupid teenage novels with those words in them. I don't want this so-called better. I want you. So get over it." His face turned towards me, and after a few seconds of staring, he slipped his hands over mine that were on his knees.

"Let me know you then." He said softly, "I want to know everything about you. I want to know your favorite color, what makes you smile, what music you like, what I can do to make you happy… tell me it all Chris. If I can't get you to budge," he smiled and kissed the tip of my nose, "then tell me what I can do to see you at your best."

"Can we talk about it over breakfast?"

"If you want to." He paused, and took in a deep breath. "Did you cook something?"

"Yes I did! Oatmeal."

He stood. "It's been years since someone has cooked for me…" He noted.

"Then I'm happy to serve." I said, leading him into the kitchen. He sat down at the table, while I dished out two bowls of oatmeal from the stove. "Do you like orange juice?"

"Yes."

"Great." I pulled two glasses from the cabinet, and poured some juice out of the pitcher for him. Finally, when the table was set and I was seated across from him, we began to eat and talk.

"What do you want to know about me?" I began, "You told all, so I'll tell all."

"Where are your parents?" He inquired.

"My father is in Europe for the summer, trying to launch his business there. He thought I could take care of the house since I'm pretty much an adult, so he left me here alone for the summer."

"And your mom?"

"She left our family a long time ago. I don't know the details, but I haven't heard from her since she left. The way I see it, is if she doesn't care to know about me, why should I care to know about her?"

"So, it's just been you and your dad?"

"Yep." I leaned back into my chair. "And I like it that way. We get along."

"That's good. You know, I still can't believe your father is Christopher Davis."

I giggled. "I can't believe your mother is Eva Gates, and your father is Isaac Kynaston. We have a lot of music royalty at this table."

"Actually, speaking of music, isn't your audition on Wednesday?" He said.

"Yeah."

"Hmm… we might need to work on your song today then. Considering we haven't had a lesson in a week and a half."

"Well, what time do you need to be back at the theater? If you want, I could drive you up."

"I was going to wait till nightfall to walk up. That way I can go through the front door since people aren't around."

"Right. That's fine with me. I'd like to spend some time with you anyway."

"Is it all right if we start with a lesson after breakfast?"

"Sure. If you allow me to change before hand and get a quick shower."

"Fair enough."

After eating and cleaning up the kitchen, I gathered a pair of blue jeans and a black tank from my room, and stepped into the bathroom to clean up. When I came back out with my hair dried and myself clothed, I saw that Erik had folded up the blanket I had given him on the couch, and that he had changed back into the suit pants and shirt from last night. His mask was back on his face, and he was in front of a mirror, running his fingers through his hair, trying to tame it. He didn't notice me, and I walked up behind him.

"You don't have to wear your mask around me." I said, stepping by his side.

He stopped messing with his hair, and he looked at me. "I would rather, actually. When I'm teaching you, I need to keep, how do I say this… a certain distance from you. Earlier I was Erik your friend and admirer, but when I teach you, I need to be the Desmond you knew professionally."

"So who are you then all the time?"

He took my hands and sighed. "All the time, I am truly Erik, because the Erik I am adores you and wants the best for you. And I needed to get that professional in me, Desmond, to teach you. I can't criticize you personally, but the professional I am can." He walked over to the piano, "Like you need much critique anyway."

He soon was sitting down on the bench, and I immediately noticed a shift in the dynamic between us. He became that Desmond I knew again, closed up and unrevealing, and he simply said to me, "Sing on bah, please."

We went through my warm ups, and then worked on my song, stopping whenever I missed a note or I didn't breathe or do something properly. I'm not sure how many times we went through it, but soon I got tired of the gentle, though unending, correction.

"The high notes are lovely," he reassured, "but you need to relax your throat to let the sound out. Don't force it. We're just ironing out the details now, so it's not too big of a deal. But the judges will want to hear your full…"

"That's it!" I cried playfully, "We've been working on his for an hour, Erik! So if you put your hands on this piano one more time, I swear I'll tear them off!"

"But…"

"No more!" I said, trying to pull him away from the piano, "We're going to watch a movie or something right now, and relax! We've never just hung out, and that's what we're going to do!"

"Chris…"

"Ah, ah, ah don't!" I warned, still trying to pry his hands off the keys. At that second, as I was pulling him away, the bench tipped over, and both of us toppled to the floor. With a thud Erik landed on top of me, and quickly lifted his chest to get off of me.

"Are you all right?" He asked worriedly.

But I only let out a laugh, and grabbing his shoulder, pulled him to my side. I rolled so that I was on top of his chest, and stuck out my tongue in victory. Soon he realized the game, and we began to playfully wrestle.

We never hit, just pushed and pulled at each other. He was careful not to grab me roughly, or set all his weight on me when he had me below him. After all, he was bigger than me. When my hands grabbed his forearms, I could feel his muscle and power gather and force me back down on the ground. But he was so subtly gentle, that I knew he wouldn't hurt me.

At last I pinned him down, mostly due to the fact that he was tired. We looked at each other, unsure of how we got ourselves in this position, and suddenly burst out laughing. I lowered myself onto his chest, as our fit of happiness died down, and I placed my head on his shoulder. Without thinking I reached up, and gently slipped the mask off his face, feeling the exposed ridges of his skin after I did so.

"Why do you wish to see me like this?" He asked softly, wrapping a hand around my side, "How can you stand to look at me?"

"I don't see your face, Erik." I sighed, "I see you. I don't know how to explain it, but I don't see scars when I gaze at you. I see your eyes, your hair, your mouth… I only know of you."

"It can't be that simple though." He stated.

"But what if it is?" I said, lifting my face to look at him, "Why can't you believe that what I'm saying is true?"

"It's… never been this good before."

I watched his brow furrow as he struggled with the words, realizing that he was trying to articulate feelings and situations that could never be fully understood without experiencing them. I thought of the things he went through, and realized that probably my trust and kindness to him was still somewhat foreign. Seriously, imagine being locked away most of your life because of your face?

"Is it good now?" I asked, "At this very second, tell me. Is it good?"

"No," He said, "It's wonderful."

I smiled at his answer, and placed my head back over his chest. I could hear his heart beating against my ear, could feel it against my cheek. Everything around was us still, and there was a great peace between the two of us. I stayed where I was, soaking in that feeling that is usually so evanescent you don't realize it's even there.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three: Secrets

Hours later Erik and I were back at the theater. It was close to nine o'clock, and the streets were abounded. Either people were at _Beat of the Sea_ or home, trying to enjoy their Sunday night. The two of us were outside the door, and I was watching him as he took a silver key out of his pocket.

"So, that's how you get back into the theater?" I asked.

He looked up at me, and nodded. Sill silent, he pushed the key into the lock, and turned it with a click.

"Thank you." He said, looking up at me, "For letting me stay with you today. This is the greatest time I've had in a long while."

"Don't thank me. I had fun too." I pointed out, "It was nice to just lounge around, watch a few movies, cook good food, and relax."

"I think I needed that." He admitted, taking my hand.

"Well, do you think we can do this again sometime?"

"No." I felt myself frown, and he tightened his hold around my fingers. "Unless it's at my place." He added with a smile.

"Your place?"  
>"Yes. Remember, I'm underneath the theater."<p>

"You'll let me go down there?"

"Why wouldn't I? I'm not hiding any dead bodies."

I looked up at him shyly, and moved a bit closer. "You promise?" I giggled.

"I promise." He playfully reassured, leaning close to my face, "But Chris?"

"Yeah?"  
>"I don't know how to do any of this."<p>

"Any of what?"

"I don't know how to be with anyone. I've spent most of my life alone, so… what do we do from here?"

I shrugged and finally allowed myself to fully lean on his chest. "You know, I don't know how to do this either." I admitted, fingering the lapels of his coat, "But I don't think anyone knows exactly how to be with someone. Perhaps the two of us just talking and being together when we can is a great way to start."

"I tend to agree with you." He said, looking down at me, "So… why don't you come see me on Tuesday?"

"Tuesday?"

"Yeah. We can get a quick lesson in, and then I'll treat you to dinner."

"I can do that I think. What time?"  
>"Be at the theater by seven. We'll work in the pit for a while, and after I'll show you where I live."<p>

I beamed at him. "Is this a date?"

"Maybe." He bent over me, his nose touching mine. "Let me kiss you and it's a deal."

"Funny, I was about to say the same thing."

We embraced, his lips pressing into mine, and before I knew it his tongue made it's way into my mouth again. He made the kiss tantalizingly slow, like he was drinking me in, and at last we forced ourselves a part from each other.

Erik took a step back, turning the knob as he did so, and slipping his body halfway into the entrance. "Tomorrow?" He breathed.

"Tomorrow." I said.

He stretched his face toward mine to kiss my cheek, and then grabbed the key from the lock, right before shutting the door.

I stood there for a few moments, staring at where he had left, before turning back toward the parking lot and walking to my car. I kept thinking about what we did that day, which consisted of talking and watching movies. I had been totally comfortable with just me and him in the house, and whenever he touched my hand or lightly kissed the top of my head or cheek, it didn't freak me out like it had with Rich. At that moment, I felt happy, mindlessly, stupidly happy.

Seconds later, as I was opening my car door, my cell phone blared from the inside of my pocket. My hands scrambled toward it, and before silencing my _Mamma Mia_ ringtone, I glanced at the caller ID. I sighed in relief, realizing it was Maggie and not Richard.

"Hey girl, what's up?" I greeted, flipping my phone open.

"Oh my God, Chris!" She sighed sounding relieved, "Ugh… thank God you answered. I've been trying to get a hold of you all day.

"Well is anything wrong?" I asked, sitting down in my car, "You sound freaked out."

"I was nervous when I didn't get a call from you, especially after last night." She admitted.

I slapped my forehead. "That's right, I did say I'd call you! I'm sorry Mags, I forgot. Everything's just been kinda crazy. I didn't mean to make you worry… I guess I'd forgotten I turned off my phone, and I was trying to recoup from last night."

"Don't worry about it, I understand. I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. Has Richard tried to call you yet?"

"I wouldn't know. Like I said earlier, I had my phone off until an hour ago. Have you talked to him?"

"I did this afternoon."

"Oh God, what'd he say?"

"That he's so, so _sorry_," She said in a sarcastically whiny voice, "That he has no _idea_ what came over him. That he'd do anything to make it up to you…"  
>I sighed in frustration. "Yeah Maggie, I get the point. God this sucks." I hit slapped the dashboard of my car. "I don't know what to feel right now. He was my friend for the longest time, and then he pulls this crap…"<p>

"I'd stay away from him if I were you, Chris." She suggested, "Honestly, I'm pissed about what he did, and I plan on not talking to him for a while. At least avoid him for now and see what happens. Give it a few weeks."

"I think that's what I'll do. I guess he _did_ change after he moved."

"Yeah, I guess so." She said sadly. "But now…." Her voice changed into one of shyness, "about your stranger…"  
>"Okay Mags," I laughed, "enough. I can't talk about it."<br>"Oh come on, Chris! At least tell me if you two are, well, you know…"  
>"No, I don't."<p>

"Tell me if you two are _seeing _each other! I've figured out who he is by now, so just tell me if you two are together and I'll drop the subject."

I looked around and took a deep breath. "There's interest. I'll tell you that much. And he did kiss me goodbye…" _Right after we kissed at my house, hung out all day today, and sorta made out before said kiss._

"Wait, hold on. He's ten years older than you!"

"Well, he's actually not, but I'll explain that later."

"Whoa! He's not? Chris, what's going on here?"

"I'll tell you he's actually nineteen, but Maggie, I can't explain anymore! Please, stop with the questions."

"Chris…"  
>"Maggie, <em>please<em>. I can't answer everything. At least not now."

She was quiet for a few seconds, but then let out a huge dramatic sigh.

"Fine." She said, "But if something weird happens, tell me, okay?"

"You have my word."

"All right, I'll remember."

"Great. Now, listen, I'm tired Maggie. I don't mean to be rude, but I have some things I have to do…"

"Naw, don't sweat it. So, I'll see you at auditions on Wednesday?"

"You know it. I'll catch you then Mags. Have a good night."  
>"You too Chris. See ya!"<p>

I let out a deep breath and hung up, relieved to be alone with my thoughts. I started up my car again, and began the drive back to my house.

On the way there I played the events of the past few days over and over again in my head. It all seemed like a strange play or movie, something a person would find being performed at a theater. I cringed, thinking of Richard's attack on Erik and I. I hadn't had the time to actually think about it and process it. I found that in the eeriest way it scared me.

I finally made it back home, and after entering the house, I locked the front door behind me. It was getting late, and I had to get up in the morning and practice my song with Mr. Gardens. I tossed my purse in my room, and after grabbing my pajamas, got a quick shower. The warm water helped calm my nerves, and allowed me some time to relax.

At last I crawled into bed, and allowed myself to curl up underneath the bed. My eyes began to close, and I thought of Erik singing to me, bringing my mind and heart peace…

Suddenly my cell rang from the nightstand, and with a groan, I reached over to grab it. Not even thinking, I flipped it open.

"Hello?" I muttered drowsily.

"Chris."

As soon as I heard the voice I sat up fully awake again.

"What do you want Rich?" I asked.

"I want to talk to you."

"Too bad. I'm hanging up right now."  
>"Wait, Chris, let me explain…"<p>

"There's nothing to explain, Rich. After what I saw from you the other night… I'm not going to risk myself."

"Wait, please…"  
>"Richard I can't talk to you right now. Bye."<p>

"Don't you dare hang up on me Chris!"

That threat finalized my course of actions, so of course, I did. I pushed the button so hard on my phone that I was afraid I broke it.

I tossed my phone back on the table after that, and I pulled my bed pillows over my head. I kept waiting for it to ring, but after twenty minutes of silence, I thankfully drifted off into a world of sleep.

The next morning arrived swiftly with my alarm clock awaking me from a dream about Erik and me. What it was about exactly, I couldn't remember, but I recalled being in his arms and then suddenly pulled away with the mechanical ringing of the morning. Sighing I got out of bed, and grabbed my outfit for the day: jeans with a black t-shirt and converse. I really didn't feel like being too extravagant, since I was only going over to my best friend's house.

I was walking toward Maggie's place by ten, with my purse over my shoulder and an apple in my hand. I would take a bite of it occasionally, but found I wasn't really hungry. I felt full, like I had eaten a three course meal, and happy. _Maybe having someone like Erik in your life does that to you._ I thought.

At last I made it to the doorsteps of the house, and I rang the doorbell. In less than twenty seconds the door opened. In front of me was Mr. Gardens, wearing jeans and an orange button down polo with socked feet.

"Hiya Chris, I've been at the piano waiting for you!" He greeted, giving me a quick hug, "How have you been?"  
>"I've been doing fine, Mr. Gardens." I replied, stepping in and taking off my shoes, "And you?"<br>"I'm all right. You just missed Maggie. She and Amy ran into town to grab some groceries not even five minutes ago."

"That's fine. I would probably be distracted anyway if they were here! All we would do is talk about _Swan Lake_."

"Well," He sighed as we walked into the living room, "It was a spectacular show. And, really Chris, you did awesome with the costuming. Amy couldn't stop talking about it. We're both very proud of you."

I beamed. "Thank you."

"Hey, don't thank me kid. It was all you."

At last, he sat down at the piano waiting for me to sing whenever I was ready. I had warmed up before coming over, so we just ran through the song a few times. He made a few minor mistakes the first time through, but after the third time, he had everything down.

"Looks like we're ready." He said, "I think you'll definitely impress the judges on Wednesday."

"You and me both." I commented, "You always play so beautifully."

"Actually, I didn't always play the piano."

"Really?"

"Yes. I only started playing a few years ago. I had a really nice guy teach me."

I glanced at him. "Who?"

"Someone I knew a long, long time ago Chris." Mr. Gardens said, squirming a little.

And then I remembered: Erik. Mr. Gardens knew Erik, and had taken him in with Mrs. Gardens. Could he have been the one to teach him to play?

"That's interesting." I said, "I bet you had an amazing teacher."  
>"I did." At that moment he stood up, trying to avoid my gaze, "Are you staying for lunch Chris? The family and I were thinking about enjoying some brunch."<p>

"I might stay. If that's okay with everyone."  
>"Of course it is. We'd love to have you."<p>

I followed him back to the kitchen, questions beginning to fill me. Why had he not taken Erik to a hospital? Why hadn't he told Maggie about him? Why had he hid him away, like he was something to be ashamed of?

Finally, as I watched Mr. Gardens grab a frying pan from the kitchen cabinet, I couldn't keep my questions to myself anymore. I had to know what had gone wrong with Erik—and part of me just wanted to know about his past.

Before I could stop myself I blurted out, "I know who Erik is, Mr. Gardens."

Mr. Gardens dropped the skillet in his hands. "Excuse me?" He gasped.

"I—I know about Erik. I've known about him for a few weeks now."

He turned to me, a look of disbelief in his eye. "No, you can't know." He stated, "He would never let you…"  
>"I've seen his face Mr. Gardens."<p>

He went pale at that moment, and he hurried toward the doorway.

"Come with me." He said, "We need to talk."

I nodded, and slid off my seat. I followed him quickly back into the living room, and he sat me down on the couch. He pulled up a chair and sat across from me, gazing at me steadily.

"How do you know?" He asked, "No one has ever discovered Erik. How did you find him?"

"I didn't." I confessed, "Erik found me. I was singing, and he liked my voice. He offered me singing lessons, and I took them. I didn't know who he was at first; he just told me he was a famous singer and that he could help me. That's why I've been getting better musically. He's done so much for me, and he cares about me. I finally found out who he really was two nights ago, but I don't care…"

"Chris, you can't look at this with rose colored glasses on." Mr. Gardens said, "He has a very dark past, and…"  
>"I know! He told me everything!" I cried, "I don't care!"<p>

"So you know how he used to cut himself? How he used to have night terrors, and how he tried to commit suicide?"

I seized up then, feeling my blood go cold hearing his words. "What?"

"Oh, so you didn't know everything." After he said that a worried, yet gentle look, came to his face. He reached out to grip my shoulder protectively, and whispered, "Chris, I adore Erik. I love him like he's my own son. But sharing a life with him is difficult for Amy and me. And keeping him hidden from Maggie, well, that's a different story. There was only one time she saw him, and I'll never forget that day."

"What happened?" I asked. Mr. Gardens glanced away sadly, and I almost regretted the question.

"He was either seven or eight. Amy and I aren't exactly sure his real age. At the time, Maggie was four. We had kept Erik in the downstairs room, and made it sound proof so that he could play his keyboard and sing without being heard. But I guess one day, the door was left open. Maggie was able to toddle around by then, and we usually left her in her playroom by herself. Well, she heard the music coming from downstairs, and followed it. To this day I don't know what happened, but I have a good idea. At the time I was working in my office, and all of a sudden, I hear Mags scream. I bolt over to the playroom, but she's not there. I began looking everywhere, and Amy was looking frantically with me. Finally we ran downstairs and there she was… she was at the bottom of the stairs, her head split open. Erik was there, in tears, with one of his blankets to her scalp trying to stop the bleeding. He wasn't wearing his mask, and I guess she saw his face, tried to run upstairs, and fell. We took her to the hospital, and had to get stitches put in her head. She suffered a slight concussion, but she was all right physically for the most part."

"Mr. Gardens, she was so young then." I said, "Surely if she knew things would be different now…"

"You don't understand." He stated, "She had nightmares up until the time she was six. We had to put her through therapy, and even after, she had trouble going downstairs or sleeping at night."

"She never told me any of this."

"We worked hard so she would forget. It was a very traumatic time for all of us, including Erik. That was when he began to have his mood swings, and he actually asked me on more than one occasion if he was a monster. An eight year old kid, wondering if God made him a monster… things just went downhill from there, Chris. When he was eleven he began hurting himself, having these horrible tantrums, and reliving whatever hell he went through as a child."

"So, you really don't know what happened to him?" I said.

"No. We think he was in a car accident or fire, but we aren't sure." Suddenly his face lit up, and he leaned toward me, "Chris, did he tell you? Did he tell you who he is or what happened?"

"No." I lied, "He's only told me that he was found outside the theater as a child, and that you and Mrs. Gardens showed him compassion when no one else would."

He sighed sadly, and sat up. "Well, he was always thankful and appreciative. One thing I can never blame Erik of being is selfish and always taking things for granted."

"He's a good guy. He's always been very sweet towards me, very gentle."

"Christy, stop. Stop what you're saying right now."

I gaped at him in surprise. He only called me by my real name when things were serious. "Why?"  
>"Because I think I know what's going on between you two, and trust me when I say you're on a road to ruin."<p>

I tried to play dumb. "What do you mean?"

"I can see you care for Erik, and as more than a friend. And I'm telling you right now, stop it."

"Why shouldn't I care for him, Mr. Gardens?" I asked defensively, "I believe my _caring for him_ is no one's business but my own."

"Where do you expect this relationship to lead to?" He pointed out, "Look: he's been by himself his entire life, he pretty much has no identity, and with his emotional problems—I'm afraid that he may hurt you. And if you leave Erik, it'll kill him Christy. You'll destroy him, and he may not be able to recover. Believe me when I say that he has never loved anyone on the level you want him to love you, and if things go wrong, it'll only end in heartbreak."

I stood up, finally unable to take his brutality.

"Stop talking like he's some kind of disconnected lunatic." I demanded, "I know he's human Mr. Gardens, possibly more human than you or me. You say he has never really loved anyone, but I know he loves you and Mrs. Gardens." I turned away, readying myself to leave the room. "So why… why can't he love me?"

I heard him stand behind me. "Where are you going Chris? You need to listen to me…"

I sighed. "No, I really don't Mr. Gardens. I'm going home and I won't be seeing you again until Wednesday. I'm sorry, I don't like doing this to you, but I'm a big girl. I can handle this myself. I know Erik cares for me, and in time, I know everything will work out."

I made my way down the hall, and as I put on my shoes at the entrance, Mr. Gardens stood over me.

"Chris, at least tell me this." He pleaded, "Tell me how you know he can love you."

I smiled and slid my purse over my shoulder. "Whenever he touches me, I can feel him hold my heart. And when we kiss, it's a moment where he lets me hold his, as guarded as it is." I avoided his gaze as I quickly opened the door.

"Wait, you two have…" He began.

"Goodbye Mr. Gardens." I interrupted, "Tell Maggie I said hi."

And before he could say anything else, I shut the door and bounded down the sidewalk.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four: Distance

_Erik's Diary: July 9__th_

_ I stayed up late writing last night, describing the chaos of the cast party I went to for Chris. I was so detailed in what I was writing, I had to stop and finally get some rest. But I am happy, for I have actually had a full night's sleep._ **I** _had a full night's sleep for _**two days**_! That never happens… and it's all because of Chris. _

_ We walked home after the party, and she offered for me to stay with her since it was so late. I didn't want to at first, afraid that someone might see us together and think the worst. But then she said she was afraid of Richard harassing her. That bastard! Even now I want to beat him to a bloody pulp for what he did to her, how he grabbed her…_

_ But I digress. In the end, I stayed with her. We walked into her house, and I found it to be clean and modest. She made a makeshift bed for me out on the couch, and then offered me some pajamas. I took them and walked into the bathroom; thankful to get out of the costume I was wearing for the party. When I came out I saw her hair was down, and she had also slipped into some sweats. _

_ After Chris made sure I was okay with our arrangement, we said good night, ready to get some rest. I heard her walk into the hall, but only minutes later, she came back to me. She took a spot next to me on the couch, and I could tell by gazing at her face, something was troubling her._

_ I tried to get her to tell me what was wrong, but… it wasn't like she wouldn't, it was like she _**couldn't**_. She kept looking at me, then back at herself. Suddenly I knew what she needed, and I felt drawn toward the piano in the room we were in. _

_ I walked over there, and we both sat down. And then, I began playing and singing. We both sang together, our voices entwining together in a cascade of sound. I had hoped for that moment, when we would connect through music, and at last it had come. When we had finally finished the song, we were so close together. I just gazed at her, memorizing the way her hair fell, so that it looked like it had white streaks through it, how her lashes slightly fluttered when she was thinking…_

_ And then she turned to me, and the look in her eyes pierced through me. She seemed so wide and open, so trusting. I bent over her, forgetting the lies that separated us, and we edged closer to each other. Suddenly, her lips brushed against mine, and I could no longer contain myself. I pressed my mouth to hers, and our arms found each other as we embraced. _

_ That was the first time I had ever kissed a woman, and yet it seemed so natural. It felt like I belonged with her, and while I was comfortable with it, I felt drunk off the sensation. Emotions were aroused me in that I thought I never had, and my body was reacting in ways that even surprised me. _Pull her closer,_ my arms begged. _Press her to you_, my chest demanded. _

_ I wanted to. I wanted both of us to be together in perfect symmetry, for her to see that maybe her being was meant to mold into mine. But I didn't push anything too far. I simply enjoyed the kiss, taking the scent of her violet perfume in and memorizing the way she felt in my arms. _

_ And then it was over. _

_ She suddenly cried out, and tore from my arms. She yelled at me, telling me to leave, telling me I took advantage of her. _Did I?_ I wondered through the madness, _Did I really hurt her like that?

_ I finally told her I wasn't twenty-seven, or a famous singer. The sting of betrayal filled her face, and she told me to leave. I prepared myself to, but wanted to steal one more glance at her, knowing that I would never see her again. _

_ I don't know if it was God or just a miracle in itself, but she stopped me from leaving, and gave me an ultimatum: either stay and tell her the truth about myself, or leave and never see her again. Either way, I had nothing to lose anymore. I told her everything… and she accepted me. _

_ I've never had anyone cry tears of pity over me, and seeing her tears, hearing her tell me she was sorry for what happened, gave me newfound peace. She stayed with me all night, both of us falling asleep in each other's arms, and we spent the next day together. We watched movies, talked, ate, listened to music we liked on Youtube, and sang. It sounds like it's so little… but it wasn't. It was the happiest day I ever had. _

_ She's coming over tomorrow, to get in a quick lesson before her auditions, and then we're having dinner. It's what I'm looking forward to now, dreaming about. It keeps the memories of what has been away… _


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five: Underneath

"Nathan!" Amy yelled, walking into the house with her daughter, "Maggie and I are back!" Both of them had paper shopping bags laced through their arms. As a treat, Amy had taken Maggie into town, and let her pick out a few things as a congratulation present for a good show. She had done this a few ties before, and after each time, they would come home and Maggie would show off her new things to her father, who always feigned excitement for her sake.

But as soon as Nathan came out of the kitchen to greet them Amy knew something was wrong. The smile he usually greeted them by was replaced with a frown full of worry.

"Amy we need to talk." He stated, "It's important."

"Dad, is something wrong with the orange company?" Maggie asked worriedly.

"Oh, no darling." He replied turning to her, "I just heard something unsettling about an old friend of ours, that's all. I'll be happy to see the things you purchased later, but right now, Mom and I need to talk privately." As soon as he said that, Amy felt her stomach drop. She knew right away that this had something to do with Erik.

"All right," She said uneasily, "I'll be upstairs then."

Amy watched as Maggie trudged up the stairs to her room, and when they heard the door shut, Nathan quickly took her arm and brought her into the living room. After shutting the door they each took a place on the couch next to each other, both of their bodies positioned slightly toward the other.

"What's going on Nathan?" Amy inquired, "Is something wrong with Erik?"

"I don't know." He admitted, "But I'm afraid that inevitably something will happen." He took a deep breath. "Amy, he's seeing Chris."

Amy let out a sigh of relief. He had made it sound so much worse.

"Of course he is. He's been giving Chris singing lessons." She explained, "They've been seeing each other every evening on weekdays…"  
>"Yes, I know this." He muttered, somewhat angrily, "I just found this out this morning from Chris. And I wish you would've told me if you knew."<p>

"Nathan, I couldn't. The less people that know about the lessons, the better. Chris, Erik, you, and I are now the only souls on Earth that know of these lessons, and of his existence. I thought that not knowing about the lessons wouldn't hurt you in anyway, and it would be one less thing that you would have to worry about. Erik knows you worry, and he told me not to tell you."

"You should've told me Amy! I don't like things being kept from me! Especially when it comes to my theater!"

"_Your_ theater? It's our theater Nathan! And Erik is our responsibility, practically our child! You two have things that you haven't told me, and Erik and I have secrets we haven't told you! This is just one of those secrets!"

"This secret has gone too far though, Amy!"

She raised an eyebrow. "How? They're just lessons."  
>"No, they're not." He moaned, putting his forehead in his hands, "They might've been once, but they're not anymore. Erik and Chris… dear God, this can't lead to anywhere good."<p>

"What Nathan?" She asked, gently but fearfully, "What's happened?"

He glanced up at her and took a deep breath. "Chris knows about Erik. She knows we found him as a child, and took him in. She's seen his face. He told her everything about living in the theater and how we're involved in his life."

Amy closed her eyes and leaned back into the couch wearily. So, finally someone outside the circle knew of Erik. She had thought this day would never come, and while the thought was scary, it was somewhat a relief. She didn't feel as alone anymore in bearing such a secret.

"It might be good for him, Nathan." She pointed out, "To have someone rather than us in this world. He might need a friend right now."

"That would be good, except they're not friends." Then he hit her with the confession. "Chris and Erik are—I guess—dating now."

"Excuse me?"

"They're involved romantically. Seeing each other. Going steady."

She sat up. "How do you know this?"  
>"Chris told me this morning. She said that he could love her, and that she cares about him. I tried to get her to break it off, but she didn't listen. Before leaving here, she told me they had kissed."<p>

"And you tried to talk her out of their relationship?"  
>"Yes! All it could do is hurt him, Amy. If Chris leaves Erik, it'll destroy him. He can't have one more person reject him. She didn't even know his full background… those days when his depression was full on…"<p>

"She claimed she saw his face, you say."

"Yes."

"And she didn't turn away?"

"No. She sounded like she accepted it. It's just his violent tendencies I worry about." She nodded in understanding.

"I'll go see him tomorrow, and talk to him. Maybe we can still spare both of them before things go too far."

"You know, I must admit on Chris's part, she really seems to care for him. I don't think she understands him, but she cares for him."

Amy sighed. "Yes… and I fear that both of them will hate me after I talk to them tomorrow."


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six: A Little Night Music

I glanced at the clock in my bedroom. I groaned, seeing it was twenty minutes till seven and my hair wasn't even halfway curled. I had to be out the door in less than ten minutes if I were going to get to the theater on time! I didn't want Erik to wait for me.

Butterflies filled my stomach as I finally gave up on curling my hair, and simply put it in a messy bun. I sprayed it so that it would stay put, and then I slipped on my silver choker and earrings for the finishing touch. I was wearing my black dress I had worn to my job interview weeks ago, but had spiced it up with black heels and a red belt. My makeup was simple just foundation with a touch of black eye shadow and mascara, and a dash of red lipstick. I scanned myself in the mirror one more time, just to make sure everything worked, and then grabbed my purse. It was time to go.

I walked out the front door and slipped into my car, turning the key and starting it. Right away _Panic! At the disco _started blaring from my speakers, and I sang along to it:

"_Cause it's nine in the afternoon_

_And your eyes are the size of the moon"_

Minutes later I made it to the theater, and after straightening my necklace and hair, I walked out of my car and up the stairs to the entrance. I pushed the door open, and from the lobby, I could hear piano music coming from the theater, along with a clear, strong male voice.

"That's Erik." I said happily, making my way to the stage.

As soon as I was inside the auditorium I could hear that he was singing something in Italian. What it was exactly, I couldn't tell, but the song was beautiful. Quietly I climbed down into the orchestra pit where he was, and I gazed at the sight that met me.

Like usual, the pit was lit up with a single lamp near the piano, but now the chairs had been stacked and put away in the theater warehouse. I was surprised to see how vacant it looked, with just the piano, the bench, and Erik and I there. I studied him for a while, seeing he wore black jeans, a long sleeved white shirt with a black vest over it, and dark dress shoes. His hair was slicked back, and I found I liked the clean-cut 'I'm a song writer' look for him. I approached him carefully, not wanting to startle him as he sang and played, and I came up from behind him and gently wrapped my arms across his shoulders and chest.

He tensed up for a moment and stopped playing, but after he realized that the arms around him belonged to me, he let out a deep breath and leaned back into my upper chest.

"Hello." I greeted, bending down over his face. The mask was on him again, and I carefully gripped it and slipped it off. Our lips touched briefly, but he gently pulled away and stood.

"Ah, I can't indulge in you until later." He said, taking the mask from my hand and putting it back on, "We have our lesson first, remember? Right now, I have to be Desmond."

"Yeah, I guess. Too bad I find your 'distant' persona attractive too." I teased.

He glanced at me as he led me over to the piano. "We'll just run through the song a couple times then. Besides, I have dinner in the oven."

"What are we having?"  
>"Lasagna, salad, garlic bread, and a surprise dessert."<p>

"Wow, you're quite the cook."

He sat down and gave me a rich laugh. "Thanks. I had a lot of help from Youtube and Google. Now, let's warm up. Sing on na, please."

I did as he asked, and he sang with me part of the time. After that I managed to get through _Halo_ three times, though I'm not sure how. All I wanted to do at the moment was enjoy the evening with Erik and ignore the rest of the world.

I guess he felt the same thing, since he cut the lesson short.

"You're sounding wonderful." He said, standing, "You really are, Chris. Just keep the line in your voice during those longer notes, and don't tense up."

"Thanks Erik, I'll remember that. Now… don't we have a ten more minutes left of our lesson?"

He gave me a playful smirk and wrapped his arms around me. "Do you want there to be ten more minutes?"

"No."

Our eyes locked for a moment, right before he kissed me. It was one of those simple kisses, like what we did during our first embrace at my house, and again it made me feel satisfied and happy. As I held him in my arms, I tried to fully grasp what Mr. Gardens told me about his past, and how he had been supposedly so dark and moody. Honestly, I couldn't see it in Erik. Yes, I could see he was emotional, but would he really be so drastic as to hurt himself?

"You're distant." He whispered, backing away from me, "Is something wrong, Chris?"

I sighed and took his hands. "Erik, you know you can always talk to me, don't you? Like, about your past and what not. Do you know you can come to me, no matter what?"

He nodded and pulled me to his chest. "Of course I do." He reassured, "And there are things I want to tell you later on. But right now, I just want _us_ to not be a stressful thing to you. You have so much going on."

"But you know you can talk to me?"

"Yes. And you know you can to talk to me, right?"

I smiled and kissed his cheek. "Yeah, I know."

"Good. Now, let's get to my place. I believe dinner will be ready soon."

We climbed out of the orchestra pit, and once we were on stage, we wrapped an arm around each other and began walking. He led me backstage, towards the farthest corner of the theater, where there were wooden planks outlining the bottom of the wall. He glanced around; making sure it was just us two in the theater, right before pushing one of the planks in.

To my shock, a section of the wall began to slide open, and it revealed a tunnel that seemed to decline downwards.

"I live here." He said, "Years ago these rooms made up an underground bomb shelter. But I renovated it into a living area." He reached up and squeezed my fingers. "I know it's shocking, but there's nothing to be afraid of. I promise."

I didn't say anything, and I allowed him to lead me into the depths of the shelter. The stairway ahead of us was well lit, and I took note of what I saw as I walked down. The walls were made of brick, painted a lime green color, and the floor was concrete. Everything looked swept up and nicely kept, which made it much more inviting to me. Finally we turned the corner down a long hallway, and I found myself in a corridor of rooms.

"The first room at your right is the music room. I keep my instruments and sheet music in there." Erik said, "The first room at your left is my bedroom, and the room that's right where the corner is, is the library. Right after that, the bathroom and kitchen is down the hall. This place isn't huge, but I know its more than some people will ever have in their lives, so I'm happy."

"Can I look around?" I asked.

"Of course. My home is always open to you. I'll just get things ready in the kitchen."

He walked away from me, and right after he disappeared around the corner of the hall, I turned into the music room.

I gasped, seeing that the wall was mostly covered in shelves of music. I had never seen so much music in my life, and I staggered at the sight of it. At the farthest wall way from was a keyboard, and at the right hand side of the room was a small piano. A violin case rested on the piano bench, and I looked down to notice that a large green floor carpet covered most of the ground. It gave the room a warmer look, and I soon left to see what else Erik had done to make the bomb shelter comfortable.

I saw his library next, which was also covered with shelves that had books in them. A few feet away from the doorway I saw a desk that had the newest apple laptop on it, along with an Ipod connected to one of the USB plugs. I decided I would raid his ITunes later, to see what music I could perhaps borrow from him.

The next room I ventured into was his room, and for some reason, it struck me more than any other rooms I saw. A bed was tightly tucked away into the far right hand corner, and five feet from that was a dresser. A chair with a painting easel stood opposite from the bed, and next to that was a table filled with different tubes of paint.

I saw the easel held a canvas, and since the back of it was to me, I walked over to see if Erik had painted on it. As soon as I did so, I began blushing… seeing the picture was of me.

In it I was wearing black pants with a matching jacket and blue button down shirt, an outfit I had worn during one of the performances of _Swan Lake_. My hair was slightly curled, and some of it was tucked behind my ear, showing off my silver chandelier earrings. In the picture I was peeking out from behind the stage curtain, as though to watch what was going on during the ballet. Some of the stage light reflected on my face, and then gradually made it's way into the shadows of backstage. My eyes looked like they were sparkling, and I had an excited smile on my face. I had to be honest, Erik had painted me well. He had made the picture look prettier than I was in real life.

I felt my chest tighten with emotion, and I tried to hold tears back. I was touched that he had taken the time to paint something like this, that he had put so much effort into capturing a moment with me in it. I looked down, wondering if that was actually how he saw me. Was I really this beautiful young woman to him? Did he truly see me as the bright girl he portrayed in the painting in front of me?

Suddenly I heard Erik's low chuckle from the doorway.

"Ah, you found my surprise for you." He said. I looked up as he strode toward me, and stopped at my side. "I began working on that right after we parted ways the night before. I literally painted for two straight days, before I thought I _maybe_ had it right."

"It's stunning." I praised, "You did a wonderful job. She's so beautiful."

"No, _you're_ beautiful Chris. I didn't do anything to alter how you really look. She's you, just as you are now and when you were in that moment."

"When did you see me look out from behind the curtain?"

"The second night of the show. I always attend every performance, and I happened to see you from the catwalk doing that. I stayed there, just memorizing how you looked. I knew I was going to do something with that image. And you inspired… this."

I turned to him, placing a hand on his cheek… well, more like on his mask. "Will you keep it here?" I asked, "I want you to have it, so that when you feel alone, you can look at me."

"But I made it for you." He protested.

"I know you did, and I love it. I will always consider this a gift to me. But I can tell this piece means a lot to you, and I know it belongs here, with you. I can't have an artist separate with a part of his soul."

He smiled. "I'll be its guardian then, if that's what you want."

I nodded. "Yes. And when I think it's time to bring the painting home with me, I'll take it."

"All right, we have a deal, Chris."

I leaned into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around me. "It's Christine." I whispered.

"What was that?"  
>"My full name is Christine Mozart Davis… and don't you dare laugh at it Erik!"<p>

He gently titled my head to look at him, and he kissed my cheek. "Why would I laugh at that? I quite like your name."

I sighed. "When I was in second grade, kids always picked on me for my name. I guess it sounded weird to a second grader. They would say things like 'oh, there's Christine Fart Davis' or ask dumb questions like if I could play the piano or not. It annoyed me, so I finally only allowed people to call me Christy, and then I shortened it again to Chris because I thought Christy sounded too hokey."

"I think Christine Mozart Davis is a beautiful name." He said silkily, turning me around so that my back was to his chest. "It's a gorgeous name, for a gorgeous girl. Christine Mozart Davis…"

I smiled. "Yeah… I like my name when you say it too."

At that moment he bent down to kiss my exposed shoulder, then he moved his lips to my neck. I felt my insides turn to mush. "Christine?"

"Yes?" I replied, barely coherent.

"You're shaking."

I gave a small laugh. "Yeah, I know."

"Here, sit down."

He led me over to his bed, and sat me down on the edge of the mattress. He did the same thing, only placing himself a few inches away, and he leaned in to kiss me again.

The kiss became deep and wet, and soon I was lost in the feeling of his arms holding me tight. I don't know how long we stayed holding each other like that, but it really didn't seem to matter to either of us. I just wanted to enjoy the moment, and believe me, I was doing _a lot_ of that.

But suddenly, as his hand was traveling down my knee and calf, and he was kissing me even rougher, I heard someone clear their throat at the doorway. We turned quickly toward the sound's direction, and to our shock and horror, saw Mrs. Gardens leaning against the entryway looking at us. I tried to speak, but my vocal cords seemed to seize up on me. She looked intimidating with her arms crossed and her eyes staring at us coolly. I knew right then and there we were in for some type of reprimand, and I feared the worst.

But Erik seemed calm, and he stared right back at her in the same composed way. He had to know what was coming, but I realized he had the wisdom to know that keeping cool was the best thing to do. He stood up, slipping his hand off my calf, and then gently taking my fingers in his.

"You're interrupting our date, Mrs. Gardens." He said lightly, as though trying to smooth over the awkward situation.

"I didn't know you would be with Chris tonight." She responded, "In fact, I didn't know you were seeing her in this way until recently."

"Oh. How did you find out?" He ran a hand nervously through his hair, still trying to stay cool. "How did you know?"

My mind was racing as I asked the same question… but the answer came quickly. Mr. Gardens. Of course he had talked to Mrs. Gardens about our discussion yesterday.

"Erik, she knows from me." I said quietly, looking away from him.

I felt his hand tighten around my own. The cool was gone. "What?"

"I talked with Mr. Gardens about you. I just wanted to know more about your past… and I wanted to know why he hid you away like he did. He saw I cared for you, and told me to leave you while I could."

Before I could stop him, he ripped his fingers from mine. "What else did he tell you?" He asked coldly.

"I… I know about what happened with you and Maggie. I know that you used to hurt yourself, and that you were in pain for a very long time."

I heard him walk away from me, and I finally looked up. I saw him leaning over the table in the room, his shoulder hunched and his arms tight. I looked at Mrs. Gardens, and she took a deep breath and strode over to him.

"Erik, she had the right to know." She soothed.

"And I have the right to tell Chris when I see fit!" He objected, glaring at her, "You can't dictate when or when not I tell someone about my past!"

I sat there utterly stunned. I had never seen him become so loud and angry, and the transition had scared me. I felt like I had to calm him somehow.

"Erik, it's my fault. I should've waited until you wanted to tell me. I'm sorry." I stood up and crossed over to him. "You know I won't be able to forgive myself for this for a long time. My stupid curiosity just got the better of me."

"I didn't mean to scare her." He said quietly.

I touched his arm. "What?"

"I didn't mean to scare Maggie. I forgot my door was open. Next thing I knew… I heard her scream. I turned to the hallway, and she began running. Then I heard her fall down the stairs. She was so little; I didn't know that she could hurt herself like that. I ran to her to help, but she literally passed out at the sight of me…" At this point, I watched as a tear slipped from his cheek and onto the smooth wood of the table. I expected him to start crying, but he didn't. His voice remained steady, even though I couldn't imagine how difficult this tale was to tell for him.

"I saw the blood next." Erik continued, "And I was scared. I thought she would die because of me. But she lived, even though she was broken. I punished myself for what I did, believing I was the monster I thought she knew me as."

I couldn't listen to his guilt filled speech anymore, and I finally made a gutsy move. I slipped myself in between him and the table, forcing him to acknowledge me. My sudden presence stunned him, and before he could react, I took his mask off and placed my hand over his scars. I gazed steadily at him, not even looking at Mrs. Gardens when I heard her gasp.

"You are not a monster." I said, "You are not ugly, or terrible, or any of the things you think you are. Yes, what happened to you was wrong, but it wasn't your fault. I know it's hard, but let it go. More wrong was done to you, than what you've done to others—_a lot_ more. Trust me on this Erik."

"You're going to leave me." He stated.

I pushed my face towards his and whispered, "No, _hell _no. I won't leave you. I am at the point where I can't leave you. I couldn't imagine it… my life as it was weeks ago, without you. I don't want that anymore." I wrapped my arms around him, as though showing him how impossible it was for me to leave him. To my relief I felt the pressure of his arms around my waist seconds later, and I said a silent prayer thanking God that I could reach him.

"I'm sorry." Mrs. Gardens said from behind me, "I… I made a mistake coming here." We both looked up at her as she stepped out of the room. "I see now Chris that you do understand the situation. Forgive me. Nathan and I made a mistake on assuming what you're judgment was."

I shook my head. "It's all right," I reassured, "you thought I would have rose colored glasses on. Most teens would. I didn't mean to scare you like I did."

She nodded in understanding and turned to leave. But to my surprise Erik stopped her.

"Mrs. Gardens, would you like to have dinner with us?" He offered.

She smiled shyly and shook her head. "I wouldn't dream of it. After all, I don't want to interrupt your date."

"No, it's all right." He said, "It's just, since I don't have a mom or dad to do it, I was hoping you'd give your seal of approval to my girlfriend."

I blushed at his reference to me, and I saw Mrs. Gardens' smile become wider.

"Well, I guess it_ would _take an entire meal to figure out if she deserves it or not, huh?"

With that we all walked into the kitchen and devoured what was (at least for me) the best lasagna that had ever been made on the planet.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Nothing Short of Talent

"Thank you for allowing me to eat with you kids." Mrs. Gardens said, as we stood from the dinner table, "Especially after barging in like I did."

Erik waved his hand at her, as though trying to push the whole incident aside. "You were worried about us. I completely understand."

"Yeah, let's just forget it." I suggested, wrapping my hands around Erik's arm and leaning against him, "It's over and done with."

"Speaking of over and done with, I need to get back home." She said, glancing at her watch, "It's ten o'clock, and I'm sure Nathan and Maggie will be wondering why I'm here so late. And Erik, I'll talk to him about you and Chris."

He nodded. "Thank you."

"Don't even mention it, dear. We'll get this smoothed out." She then turned to me. "Chris, does your father know about Erik?"

I shook my head. "I haven't talked to him since… two days ago." I confessed, "He emailed me, and just asked how the show went."

"Erik," She sighed, "You're going to have to let her tell her father about…"  
>"I know." He interrupted, "When he comes back I want him to meet me myself, but we'll figure out what to do when the time comes."<p>

She looked down. "I hope so. But since he doesn't know I suppose I have to take some responsibility for you, Chris, while he's out of town." She turned her head and looked me in the eye. "I want you home by eleven tonight. That's your curfew when you're with Erik."

"How about midnight?" I bartered.

"No. Eleven."  
>"Cinderella got until midnight." I teased.<p>

She grinned. "Cinderella didn't have an audition tomorrow for a talent show."

I sighed and took one more shot. "Eleven thirty?"

She thought for a moment, and then nodded. "Eleven thirty then. But I will call your house to make sure you're home."

"Deal. Thank you Mrs. Gardens."

"Your welcome. Now, I'll be off. Erik don't bother, I can walk myself out. Enjoy your time with Chris." She turned toward the door, and added in a steely voice. "Don't do anything stupid. And you _know_ what I mean."

"No m`am. I won't do anything along the lines of what I think you're thinking." He promised.

"Good boy. Good night Chris."

"Good night Mrs. Gardens. Don't worry, we'll be good."

She laughed, walking out into the hall. "It's him I'm worried about, not you. You've dated before and have had… opportunities pop up. You've learned to resist. Just get home safely, my girl." And then she was gone.

As soon as she we heard the secret door slide close upstairs, I turned to Erik and allowed him to wrap his arms around me.

"I'd never take advantage of you in that way." He reassured, "I'm sort of disappointed that she thinks I might."

"This is new territory for a lot of us, Erik. Including her. She probably thought she'd never see you date." I pointed out.

He smiled. "I guess that's true." He confessed, "I never thought I'd see me date." He kissed the top of my head. "I'm glad we were both wrong."

"You know, I've never had a real boyfriend myself."

He looked down at me. "You haven't?"  
>"No. I went out sometimes, but I never had a true interest. I worked so much at theater… there just wasn't time and I didn't know anyone who would be willing to deal with what my schedule was. You know how it's like in the theater. Once you step into show business, there's not much time for anything else."<br>"I'm glad I live at your workplace then."

I burst out laughing and slipped out of his arms. "I know, right? Now that's combining work and play!" I skipped to the other side of the room as he lifted his hand to hold me again. Playfully I stuck my tongue out at him, and with a sly smile, he leapt toward me. I giggled and moved the opposite way around the table, and then out into the hall.

"Catch me!" I called, now running into the music room.

"You're too quick for me!"

"That's what you get for liking someone who used to be a dancer!"

As he entered the music room, and saw me kneeling behind the piano, he realized, "Wait… you used to be in the ballet, didn't you?"

I stood up and nodded. "Yeah. But only for a year and a half. I figured out it wasn't my calling, and Mrs. Gardens knew it too. She suggested I be in the chorus of the musical, do costumes, and act."

Now that I was off guard he lunged toward me, and scooped me up in his arms. I let out a small, over dramatic scream, and he spun me around.

"Wise woman." He said, staying in place and kissing me, "Mrs. Gardens is good with gauging talent. I don't know how she went wrong with Candice." As he walked over to the piano bench to put me down, I looked at his arms, and for the first time, noticed the scars that were across his wrist and under his forearms. It took me back a bit, as I put my knowledge about how he used to 'hurt himself' and those marks together. He noticed my staring as he placed me on the bench, and without saying anything; he kneeled down before me so I could continue to look. Carefully, he rolled up his sleeves a bit more, to show me more markings. It was like he understood that I needed to see his permanently stained skin to realize the extent of what Mr. Gardens had told me.

"It doesn't frighten me." I reassured.

"I know." He said, "It's just difficult for me to show you who I was, and what I used to do. I feel like I'm reopening these old wounds." He paused for a moment, and then asked, "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

I nodded. "Of course I am. I wouldn't be here now if I wasn't."

"What about your father, Chris? Will he understand?"

"Yes. He taught me to be open to others, and to judge them on what they do now, not what they did four or five years ago. If someone has truly changed you'll sense it and see it."

At that moment he took my hands in his and kissed them. "I adore you. You're extremely smart for your years, you know that?"

I giggled. "You're smart for your years too. Erik, you talk like you're so much older than you really are. It's no wonder why I believed you when you said you were twenty-seven."

"Maybe that's why we're so close then. Because we are wiser than our age group."

"Huh. I never thought of it that way." I shrugged and let out a yawn. "That's an interesting way to look at it."  
>He helped me off the bench then and stood, making me lean against his chest. "You're tired." He observed.<p>

"Am not." I denied.

"Are to."

"Am…" And then I yawned. "Okay, maybe a little."

"Go home then." He insisted, "I don't want you tired during your audition."

"I want to be with you."

"I know, and I want to be with you. How about you come see me on Friday? It'll be the day after they post the talent show results, and rehearsals for it won't start until Monday. We'll have the place to ourselves."

"What time?"

"How about noon? We can enjoy lunch on the stage."

I smiled. "Like the first time I saw you in the catwalk?"

He chuckled. "Yes. Sort of like that."

"Deal. But only if I can bring lunch for us."

"Okay. Now, come on, I'll walk you up front."

I grabbed my purse from his bedroom and we began walking back up to above ground. We ventured up the stairs again, he opened the secret door, and we found ourselves backstage once more. I held his hand in mine as we walked on stage and through the audience seats. I felt at peace with him, like nothing could ever hurt me, and in the vast empty theater, I pretended for a while that we were the only two people in the world.

Finally we were back in the lobby, and standing by the door. I turned to him, still not really wanting to go, and I stepped into his arms again. He looked down at me as I gazed back up at him, and without a word, he bent down to kiss me.

We stayed there for, at least four minutes, kind of making out. But finally, with his lips against my ear he whispered, "Break a leg for me tomorrow, songstress. You won't see me, but I'll be watching you."

"I know." I murmured, "I know."

"Remember all I've told you, and have confidence in yourself. You're going to do wonderfully."

"I hope so."

He kissed me for a few more moments, and then reluctantly took a step back. "Don't hope so. Know so. Because I know, for sure, it'll go great."

I smiled. "Thanks Erik."

He placed a finger on my lips. "Don't thank me. You don't need to. Now go home, get a nice shower, and sleep."

"Wait." I grabbed his hand, "One more kiss for good luck?"

He grinned and leaned forward to give me a soft kiss. "One for good luck," He said, then kissed me again, "And one for good measure."

Before he could pull away I quickly pecked his cheek. "And that's one to save until Friday!" I giggled.

"Hey, I'll take it." He slipped my hand out of his. "I'll see you later, all right? Get home safely."

"I will." I placed my hand on the door, "Good night, Erik."

"Good night, Chris."

At last I pushed the door open, and walked down the theater steps to my car. I unlocked it, got into the driver's seat, and was soon on my way home.

Half an hour later, as I was getting out of the shower; I heard the house phone ring. I then remembered that Mrs. Gardens was supposed to call me, and before I could worry her, I threw on a bathrobe and darted into the kitchen to answer the phone.

"Hello?" I said, bringing it to my ear.

"Hi Chris, it's me. I just wanted to make sure you got home on time."

I smiled, hearing her familiar voice. "Yeah, I'm here. I got home a half hour ago. Erik wanted me to get a good night's rest before tomorrow."

She laughed. "I would guess so. I suppose he's invested a lot in you… time and emotion included. Just remember, the auditions start at nine, and will be going until one. You can stay and watch everyone try out if you want or you can leave. I'm sure most of the kids will be staying."  
>"I'll probably stay. I like to scope out my competition. I think I'm last on the list to try out anyway. At least I put myself there when I signed up for time slots last week."<p>

"You did. But anyway, you get some rest now, okay? Good night Chris."

"Good night Mrs. Gardens. I'll see you tomorrow."

With that, I hung up, and made my way back to my room. I pulled my pajamas on, and after brushing my teeth, curled up in bed. I took a few moments to think about the tryouts tomorrow, and about what Erik and I had accomplished together. I promised myself I would not let the work we did go to waste, and finally, I closed my eyes and fell into a world of dreams.

I didn't realize how nervous I was until I woke up the next morning. It was eight o'clock, and all ready butterflies had filled my stomach. I only ate an apple for breakfast, unsure if I could even keep _that_ down, and then I slipped on jeans and a blue button down shirt. As soon as I was done with my makeup and hair, I stepped into my black ballet flats, and grabbed my purse. I looked at the kitchen clock and saw I had twenty minutes to get to the theater, so I decided to walk.

After locking the front door and beginning my trek, I realized how nice of a day it was. The sun was out, and there weren't any clouds in the sky. It was warm out, but the ocean breeze kept me comfortable, and the smell of it somewhat relaxed me.

And then, as I made my way to the crosswalk, I saw Maggie leaning against the light post while waiting for the signal to walk. She was wearing black sweats with a white waistband, a dark tight fitting tank, and ballet flats. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, while a fedora was sitting cocked sideways on her head.

"Hey stranger!" I called.

She immediately turned and saw me, a smile lighting up her face. I ran over to her, just as the light changed, and we crossed the street together.

"On your way to the theater?" I asked.

"Yeah." She said, "As soon as you told me you were auditioning, I thought I'd gather my courage and audition too. Jamie and I worked out a routine to _Smooth Criminal_."

"That sounds awesome! Good for you, Mags." I congratulated.

"Aw, thanks. Now… you need to tell me what _you're_ singing for the talent show."

I shook my head. "You'll see when we get there. I want to surprise you."

"Oh!" She cried, "Is your Desmond auditioning with you?"

I glared at her. "No, he's not. Maggie, please, don't talk about him."

"I'm sorry. I won't ask again."

"It's fine." I sighed, "And, Mags, just know that when I can tell you about him, I will. I think that time is going to come soon, too."

We gave each other a small smile, and she nodded in understanding.

"It's cool," She reassured, "I trust you. But… Chris I need to give you a heads up on something."

"What's that?"

"Richard's auditioning."

I shrugged. "I had a feeling he would be. He told us a few times that he'd plan on it."

"I just wanted to make sure you knew for sure. You still avoiding him?"

"I've been trying to. He called me once, but I hung up on him."

"I'm not leaving until the auditions are over. If you want, I'll hang out with you. I really don't want him to catch you alone."

I felt my stomach drop. "You think it's that bad?"

"No, I don't think so. But I just don't want any drama to happen."

We at last made it to the theater, and entered into the lobby. Right next to the front door the audition time sheet was posted. It said who would be auditioning in what order. I noticed that Candice would be auditioning second, two dance groups were after her, then it would be Maggie and Jamie, and after that Richard. I was last on the list, as I knew I would be. In total thirty-nine acts were auditioning, and only fourteen acts would make it. That was less than half… which meant my chances for getting in were down.

We walked into the auditorium to see that the first three rows of seats were willed with people trying out. Two rows away from them were three judges who would decide who made the cut: one was Mrs. Gardens, one was Ms. Dublin, and the final judge was Ms. Wallace, the music teacher at our school.

Maggie and I saw Mr. Gardens sitting on the third row, in the final seat on the right side. He saw us and motioned to two seats that were available next to him, so we took them.

"Hey girls," He said, "You two excited about auditioning?"

"Nervous," I confessed.

"But excited." Maggie finished.

"I could guess as much. It's been a while since you've auditioned, hasn't it Chris?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but we'll do great. After all, I have the best accompanist in Belleview."

He laughed, "Then I must be the only accompanist in Belleview!"

We didn't say anything for a while, as we waited for Mrs. Gardens to start the auditions, but suddenly Mr. Gardens leaned toward me.

"Hey Chris," he whispered, "I want to apologize for…"

I held up my hand. "Don't. It was a misunderstanding. Let's forget about it. After all," I looked at the stage. "We have much more important things to worry about."

"I tend to agree with you, Ms. Davis."

I smiled, and at the moment, Mrs. Gardens announced the first person to come on stage, and the auditions began.

The audition process pretty much went like this: you came on stage, said your name, and what you would be doing. If you had a song to dance or sing to, and didn't have anyone to play that song during your audition, you would have to get a CD of the music to the sound guy working the booth the day before try outs. If you had someone to play your piece, a piano was on stage, provided for your accompanist. Or you brought your own instruments. After you announced what you would be doing, you would perform your act. When you were done you could either leave or stay and watch everyone else perform. Next day the results would be posted in the morning, and if you got in, the rehearsals would start on Monday… since the theater would only have two and a half weeks to get everything done. That's just how it was done at Garden's Theater.

The first act to go up were Leo, Benji, Isaac, Peter, Kyle, and Tyler, all the ballet boys that were part of the troupe. Every year they auditioned together and did a break dancing/really cool ballet act. This year they did a dance routine to a mash-up of _Singing in the Rain_ and _Umbrella_ by Rihanna. They came on wearing 1950's style suits, and halfway though the song, they stripped down to just their suit pants, shoes, and fedoras. That part got a few giggles and hollers from the girls, and I saw the judges approved of the slight edge of their moves. I hoped that they would make it into the show. It would be their fourth year in a row if they did.

Next was Candice who sang _Hit Me Baby One More Time_ by, of course, the infamous Brittany Spears. I had to admit though; the song might have worked for her, if she hadn't been nearly off key. But again, she sold the song, and I knew she would probably get in. This would be her seventh year in the show.

After the two dance groups performed (one was a boy and girl team doing a tap dance number, and another was a young girl doing ballet) it was finally time for Maggie and Jamie to go on. I had wished her luck minutes earlier, since she and Jamie walked into the lobby to warm up, and when Mrs. Gardens called their name, they actually _cart wheeled_ from backstage to center stage. I smiled. _Nice attention getter girls!_ I thought.

Finally, the intro to _Smooth Criminal _started, and they began dancing. Over all, they're routine was very impressive. I laughed in surprise a few times, as they seemed to mimic Michael Jackson perfectly. They would spin and stop on their toes like they were the queens of pop. And I couldn't help but giggle when I saw that even the pelvic thrusting was exactly the way he would've done it. When their song was done, they actually did a back flip as a finale and then put their back together with their arms crossed… Charlie's Angels style. A few of the audience members clapped, and when Maggie walked back down to sit next to me, I high-fived her.

"It was awesome!" I said.

"Really?" She asked, "I lost my balance with a few of the spins…"

"I didn't even notice." I reassured, "Mags, you and Jamie were great. God, I hope I do as well as you two did!"

She lightly touched my arm, and said smiling, "No… you'll do better."

At that moment Mrs. Gardens called Richard on stage, along with the rest of his group. I was surprised to see he had a drummer, an electric bass player, a keyboard, and two guitars players follow him on stage. It only took them a few moments to set up, and I watched them nervously. All of them wore dark wash jeans with matching shirts that said, "New Cover". I guessed that was the name for the band.

Finally, everyone was in their places on stage: the drummer up center stage, two guitars to his left, and the bassist and keyboard player to his right. Richard was down center stage, with a microphone stand and microphone level at his mouth.

"All right guys, let's do this!" He yelled, "One, two, three, four!"

At that moment the electric guitars and drums began ripping, and he got out his own guitar from around his shoulders and began playing along. Then, he sang:

"_I am a little bit of loneliness, a little bit of disregard _

_Handful of complaints but I can't help the fact _

_That everybody can see these scars _

_I am what I want you to want, what I want you to feel _

_But it's like no matter what I do, I can't convince you _

_To just believe this is real _

_So I, let go watching you turn your back like you always do _

_Face away and pretend that I'm not _

_But I'll be here cause you're all that I've got"_

To my surprise, he flew into screamo mode after that:

"_I can't feel the way I did before _

_Don't turn your back on me _

_I won't be ignored _

_Time won't heal this damage anymore _

_Don't turn your back on me I won't be ignored"_

I recognized the song immediately after he sang the chorus. It was _I won't be Ignored_ by Linkin Park. I watched as he continued to perform, and I had to confess, his band was doing a pretty damn good job with the song. Everyone was in synch, and I didn't hear any mess-ups. But occasionally he looked at me when he sang the song… and it freaked me out. He would get this weird glint in his eye, like the song was meant for me. It only made me more nervous.

Finally, he was done, and a lot of people cheered for him. For the rest of the time, I looked at the floor and tried to focus on my song by running through the notes and words in my head. I refused to be thrown off just because Richard had tried to get back at me with a stupid song.

Finally, after everyone else auditioned, Mrs. Gardens called my name.

"Chris Davis, you're on."

I took a deep breath and walked on stage, trying to not show my legs were shaking. Mr. Gardens walked on with me, and while he was getting his sheet music situated on the piano, I stood center stage fixing the microphone.

"Oh my God, I bet she sucks." I heard Candice whisper to one of her friends, "This will be the screw up of the year!" I tried to brush the words from out of my mind, and that was when I looked up toward the catwalk.

For a brief second I saw the flash of a white mask peeking out from the shadows, the face of my Erik. He gazed at me for a few seconds as our eyes met, and it felt like he was sending me his courage. And as quickly as I saw him, he was gone… disappearing back into the darkness. But I could feel him near me, and I knew he was watching. That was all I needed to know I would be okay.

I looked at Mr. Gardens, who was seated at the piano, and nodded toward him. He smiled, and began playing the introduction to _Halo_. It was then that I breathed in, and seconds later, started singing.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Notes on a Page

My heart thumped as I walked toward the theater, carrying a small cooler of Erik and I's lunch. I wore jeans with sandals and a red blouse, and makeup to match. I let my hair fall to my shoulders, since I had been too worried to do anything with it. I wasn't sure if Erik knew about the results to the talent show yet… and I knew what I had to tell him would surprise him.

I had found out the results myself, and seeing who got in written on the white, poser-sized paper shocked me. I had to tell Erik, I knew I had to, but how to do so was the question. I had thought about it all the way on the car drive over, yet the words hadn't come to me.

I found my way to the stage, and I began to unload the goodies I had made from the cooler. I spread a blanket out over the stage floor, and put down plates and silverware. Next I got out the small sandwiches, veggie plate, hummus, pita, and cookies I had whipped up. Then I brought out two water bottles full of lemonade, and I wondered if he was a fan of picnic food or not…

"Hello, my darling."

I turned, and saw that he was behind me. He wore jeans, a dark blue t-shirt, and converse. His mask, the white one he usually wore, was on his face.

"Erik," I said. I stood up and walked over to him, wrapping my arms around him and leaning against his chest.

"Your performance was wonderful." He said, "When I saw you from the catwalk, singing and glowing like you were, tears came to my eyes."

"Was it that good?" I asked uncertainly.

"Yes, of course it was. I would never lie to you about how well you do."

I shrugged. "Erik, then I don't know how to tell you this."

He stepped away from me to gaze at my face, and he took my hands. "I haven't looked at the results." He confessed, "And when I asked Mrs. Gardens last night if you got in, she wouldn't tell me."

I looked down. "Then… I'm sorry Erik."

"Sorry about what? They didn't put you in?" I heard his tone remain soft, but serious. I knew I had to tell him the truth.

"No…" And then I brightened, unable to contain myself. "I'm sorry that you'll have to wait till the end of _Night of the Stars_ to see me, since I got the coveted last spot!"

It took him a few seconds to register what I said, but when he understood it, I saw his eyes light up. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and he lifted me to spin me around.

"I'm so happy for you!" He said, "I knew you could do it, Chris! And how you had me fooled for those few seconds!" He set me down. "My little songstress… I always forget that you can act behind that innocent face of yours."

"I just wanted to surprise you." I said, lifting myself to kiss him.

He held me tight to him and sighed. "I understand. But really, I'm proud of you Chris."

"Thank you. The pupil only reflects her teacher."

We smiled at each other, and then walked over to take our seats at the picnic I had set up.

"This looks wonderful." He said, "I'm a fan of a simple meal. They always seem to be more filling to me."

"Thanks. I like the simpler things too." I admitted, "It makes the moment about the people."

He reached over and took my hand. "Good. I want this moment to be about you. Enjoy your victory."

"Our victory, Erik." I corrected, "I never could have done this without you." I was relieved when I saw him smile shyly; instead of deny what I said.

We ate with light conversation, just enjoying each other's company. Occasionally he would lean over to kiss me, saying some cute one-liner or quote something romantic from a poem or song. And then, as we were munching on the cookies I brought, I remembered back to when we had first started doing lessons…

"Erik," I began, "remember that time I came into our lesson exhausted, and you asked me if there was something you could give me?"

"Yes," He said curiously, "I do. You asked to see my face, and then you wanted me to sing for you."

I nodded. "Yeah. Well, Erik, I want to know… if there is anything I can give you."

He sat up. "What?"  
>"Erik, what do you want right now? If there is anything I can give you, I want to know what it is."<p>

He looked down, almost shamefully, and shook his head. "No one has asked me that in years." He confessed, "The last ones who asked what I wanted were my parents."

I scooted closer to him and took his hand. "Then, tell me what you want. If I can give it to you, I will. Just tell me Erik."

He swallowed nervously, and wouldn't look at me. It was then that I saw his true age for the very first time. In that moment of vulnerability and uncertainty, I saw the innocence on his face that he kept hidden from the world. I saw how he had yearnings that he couldn't describe, couldn't communicate, in fear of rejection or another denial.

"Erik," I whispered, "what is it Erik?"

At last he looked up at me, and his eyes swept over me in a way they hadn't before. His innocence disappeared, back to the secret place where he kept it, and the youngness that I saw moments ago—gone. Now I knew the want, the yearning he couldn't name.

Without saying anything I pushed the Tupper wares of food and plates aside, and I slowly leaned back, until I was lying down on the blanket. Before he could protest I grabbed his hand and placed it on the base of my neck.

"You know what my limits are." I said, "I trust you." I laid my arms back down, and closed my eyes. Seconds later, his hands began to roam.

I felt him across my legs, stomach, arms, and sides… and then his lips pressed into my own. I felt his mouth leave mine for a few moments, and kiss my bare shoulder, making quick work of a hickey that I knew would be there tomorrow. Seconds later, his fingers swept over my stomach… soon a little higher…

At last my eyes shot open, and he gazed at me as I allowed a man to touch something that no man had touched before. And then I couldn't keep still any longer. I sat up, and buried my face in his cool shoulder, hoping that my cheeks would stop burning. I curled inward, as though trying to keep myself close to his hands, since I didn't want him to retreat. His fingertips swept across me, and his palms soon flattened. It felt like his fingers were attempting to massage my beating heart, trying to soothe it after a race. He worked his magic, allowing his touch to guide me into submission. At last, his hands slid off of me and back down to my waist.

He put his forehead to mine, forcing me to look at him.

"Did I violate you?" He asked worriedly, and I could feel him start to pull away.

"No." I said, "Erik, I'm fine."

"Then why are you crying?"

I reached up to my cheek, and realized that I did have tears running down my face. I felt myself blush, realizing he hadn't been with a girl like this before, and that the situation had to be awkward for him.

"Sometimes, darling, girls get emotional about this kind of stuff." I explained, "Especially if it's the first time anyone—well—you know." I looked down at my chest, and I could feel the red of my cheeks deepen.

"Then, are you okay with this?" He said.

I nodded, smiling. "Yes. It won't be so odd next time."

"Next time?"

I laughed at the surprise in his voice. "Erik, girlfriends and boyfriends do stuff like that a lot. It's all right. You know what I won't do, so it's okay. Honestly… this is the farthest I've ever been with someone. I know you won't force me to go any farther than this if I'm not cool with it, and since we probably won't, I feel comfortable with that." I reached up slowly and slipped the mask off his face, so I could kiss his cheeks. "This is okay, Erik. This is okay."

He smoothed my hair back and sighed. "I got nervous when I saw the way you looked. I didn't understand why you were crying. I thought that you were scared."

"No, I wasn't scared." I soothed, "Letting you do that just meant a lot to me. My body is a personal thing, and I always wanted to share a small part of it with someone I truly cared about." I paused for a moment. "Erik, did it mean a lot to you?" I asked.

He thought for a moment, and then nodded. "Yes. You trusted me, and that's what mattered the most. I knew what you were giving me, and I know what it means to you now. So… this is valuable to me, Chris. I promise I won't degrade it and make it into something little. I've seen how guys have done that in the theater."

"I don't want us to be like that." I murmured.

"We won't be. I promise." Then he took a deep breath. "Chris, tell me what _you_ want right now."

I smiled. "There's nothing I want. There's just something I need to know."

"Tell me what it is then."

"Erik… do you love me?"

He looked at me dead in the eye and said, "Yes. I knew I loved you right after we had our first lesson together. Chris, do you—do you love me?"

I nodded slowly. "Yes. Erik Kynaston," I said carefully, "I love you."

A few seconds after I said those words he turned away as though to hide something… but I still caught a glimpse of the tears on his cheeks. It had been too long, I realized, since he had heard someone tell him they loved him. Probably the night his parents died was the last time. I decided right then and there I would makeup for those wasted years. Any chance I had to tell him those words, I would.

"I love you, Erik." I said, again, "I love you."

Then he turned to me, with tears still running down his face, and he kissed me. "And I love you, Christine Mozart Davis." He whispered into my mouth, "I love you."

An hour later Erik was leading me back to the lobby. It was almost three o'clock, and he wanted me to enjoy my weekend and rest up before rehearsals started on Monday. We had cleaned up the lunch mess together, and setting down the cooler for a moment, I wrapped my arms around him.

"Monday, at eight, will you be here so we can have a lesson?" I asked.

"Of course." He said, "We need to do some polishing on the song, and talk about how you want to perform it. It's good that Mrs. Gardens is keeping the grand piano on stage for the show. We can practice on there and try a few things for dramatic flair."

I smiled. "You should be a director, you know that?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps I will be one day. Who knows?" He bent down over me and kissed my lips. "A million things that I thought were impossible have happened to me recently."

"Erik, you and I aren't impossible. We were just meant to be."

"I suppose so. Christine, I love you."

"I love you too, Erik."  
>"Relax and have fun this weekend."<p>

"Oh, I know I will. I'll spend most of it thinking about you."

We kissed one more time, and I turned toward the door. But suddenly, it opened… and it wasn't me who turned the knob.

Standing in the entryway of the theater was Maggie, wearing jeans with a dark t-shirt. Her hair was pulled back, so I could see the shock in her eyes. But she wasn't looking at me… she was looking behind me, at Erik.

"Chris," She gasped, "Chris, who's here with you?"

I glanced toward Erik, to see that he was alarmed too. He looked like he was either going to run or push her out of the theater. Before he could do anything, I stepped in.

I gently took her arm, and pulled her into the lobby. I shut the door, and stood in front of it so she couldn't leave. I didn't say anything, expecting either Maggie or Erik to talk first. To my relief, Erik did.

"Maggie, do you remember me?" He asked quietly.

"No." She said, "I don't. Who are you? What are you doing here with Chris?"

"Mags," I soothed, "this is my friend Desmond. You've actually met him before."

"Chris, please. Don't bring this up with her." Erik begged.

"No… wait. I know your eyes." She said, "I've seen them before. But I can't remember…" Suddenly, her eyes widened with recognition. "You _were_ real!" She cried, "The boy in the basement! I knew you were real! I knew it!" At that moment her body began to sway. "I… I… Chris, I don't feel good." To my surprise, she fainted, falling toward Erik. Reacting quickly, he lurched forward and caught her in his arms.

"Oh my God, she actually fainted." I stated.

"Yes. She knows now." He said sadly, "She knows and remembers."

I touched his arm. "Let's get somewhere where she can lie down."

"Okay. My place then."

In a few minutes we were underneath the theater, me walking beside Erik while he carried her into his bedroom. Very gently, he placed her on his bed, and I pulled up two chairs so we could wait till she came to.

"You know Erik," I said, "she actually seemed relieved before she fainted. This was just a shock to her, that's all."

He looked over at me and sighed. "She knew about me. How did she know me as Desmond?"

"She snitched the letter you wrote to me from inside of my purse." I said, "For a while I wouldn't tell her anything. But, I had to give her some kind of information. I made it as vague as possible, don't worry. We'll have a lot of explaining to do when she wakes up."

"You lied to your best friend for me?" He asked.

"Yes, to protect you. I thought that was what you wanted."

He reached forward and squeezed my hand. "Be open with her then, and with your family when the time comes. I don't want you to hide me away from the ones you love anymore. I shouldn't have made you keep such a secret from them."

I smiled, and bent toward him for a kiss. "You can always trust me Erik. I promise."

At that moment I heard Maggie say, "Hey, will you stop sucking face and tell me where I am?"

I shifted my body to look at her, and sighed in relief. "Maggie," I said, "you're here in Desmond's home. And his name isn't really Desmond. It's Erik Kynaston."

"So… you really do exist? My parents always denied you weren't real; but you're the so-called monster I saw?" Maggie asked after we had explained everything to her. Well… almost everything.

"Yes." Erik sighed, "I'm your childhood monster Maggie."

"And, the Theater Ghost?"

"And the Ghost."

She was still sitting on the bed, and I hadn't moved from my seat either. Erik remained motionless, as though frozen by his own shame, and I reached over to grasp his hand.

"Oh… you two _are_ officially together." She teased, "I should've known by how you two kept glancing at each other like love sick puppies." I smiled in relief. It was nice to see Maggie's playful side come out. I didn't want this to traumatize her in any way. In fact, I was hoping that somehow this meeting would undo the damage created by the nightmares and bad memories.

To my surprise, Erik didn't seem to hear her comment.

"Maggie, do you forgive me?" He asked.

She shrugged. "What is there to forgive you for? For not wearing your mask the exact second I came downstairs? For playing your piano when I was within earshot? For having my parents lie to me and say that the accident was nothing but a child's imagination gone wild?" She threw her legs over the edge of the bed and sighed. "Erik, I don't blame you for anything. In fact, I'm sorry about what _you_ went through with losing your parents. My struggles are nothing compared to yours."

"Children should not have to feel such fear as you felt. Ever." He stated.

"Yeah, and seeing the dead bodies of your parents isn't worse fear than that?"

He looked up at her, and I was afraid that he would get mad at the careless mention of his parents. But instead he reached over and touched her arm.

"Perhaps, Maggie, we are more alike than I thought we were." He said softly, "Maybe, just maybe, we feel the same type of fear and pain… just in different ways."

She smiled. "I agree with you. I hadn't thought of it like that before, but I think you're right."

"I see why you and Chris are such good friends. You two seem to have similar, and thankfully, accepting minds."

She giggled. "Hey, we're theater people. We kinda have to have them!"

I laughed at her comment, no only for it's humor, but for how right she was. And I was relieved when I heard Erik laugh too.

But suddenly we all grew quiet, and Maggie asked, "Erik… is it okay if I see your face?"

He froze up again; tightening his shoulders and hands, and took a deep breath.

"I don't want you to feel that fear again." He said.

"I won't. Being uncertain, that was what was really scary. But, now that I know there is no monster, I just want to see the human Erik. To give the heart and soul I know a face, instead of a mask. I promise, I won't freak out."

"She won't Erik." I reassured, "She knows she'll get it from me if she does anything dumb."

Maggie and I nodded silently toward each other, and at last Erik lifted his hands to his mask.

"I apologize ahead of time." He said. And then, he slipped the cover off his face.

I was proud of Maggie when she didn't flinch or gasp. She was actually more composed than I was when I first saw his face. Her eyes widened a little, and I saw her fist clench together, but she kept her cool. A few seconds passed as she studied the scars on his face, and his almost burnt off ear.

"It's not as bad as I remembered it to be." She said thoughtfully, "It doesn't scare me. But, does it hurt you Erik?"  
>"No." He said, "There's no pain anymore."<p>

"Good. I hoped not." Suddenly, her face lit up, and she gave a bright smile. "Are we going to be friends now? I think that since you're dating my best friend, we need to be on good terms."

He studied her for a moment, looking somewhat shocked by her offer, but finally held out his hand to her. "Okay. I think I'd like that a lot, Maggie."

She grasped her fingers in his and gave them a gentle squeeze. "I think I'd like it too."

Without thinking, I took her hand, and Erik's hand, so that our small group created a lopsided triangle with our arms. But somehow that shape created a foundation of trust, and maybe, a foundation of hope for Erik. Hope that he wouldn't have to hide away and live alone.

"Well Mags, welcome to the I Know Erik Club!" I joked.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Free Fall

"Do you want to come over to my house for a while?" I asked Maggie as we walked down the sidewalk.

By now an hour had passed, and both of us were on our way home. Earlier Erik had shown Maggie around his underground home, and in delight, she explored the music room and a book of his sketches in the bedroom. Both of them got along perfectly to my relief, and mostly talked about classical ballets and (what Maggie was _way_ into) old comedies.

"I really can't." Maggie said, "I was only supposed to go to the theater and pick up a few of my things I left there from _Swan Lake_. I'm sure my mom is going to have plenty of questions to why I was out for such a long time."

"Tell her you went to grab some ice cream with me at _Whipple's_." I said, "Don't worry, I'll cover you."

She smiled. "Thanks Chris."

"No problem. Anything for a friend. So… I have to ask, do you like him?"

She looked at me. "You mean Erik?"

"No, Santa Clause. YES, Erik."

She slung her gym bag over her shoulder and grinned. "Yeah, I do. Still, when you two started talking to me about him living away from the outside world, I wasn't sure. I thought he'd be some recluse who didn't know how to communicate."

"I'm glad you kept an open mind."

"I'm glad I did too. I just tried to treat him normally. What won me over was that fact that he seemed more upset about… what happened to be as a kid than I was."

"Yeah, I could tell." Suddenly my curiosity rose again. "Maggie, what exactly _do_ you remember about seeing Erik as a kid?"

By now we were at the light post where we usually parted, but she leaned against it as though ready to talk for another hour.

"Honestly, I'm not exactly sure." She confessed, "I don't know what was real about that time, or what it is that I dreamt up."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I remember Erik's face being horrible, being so ungodly terrifying as a child. But when I saw him today… it wasn't near as bad as I remembered. I was surprised more at how scary it _wasn't_. Some of what happened to me, _I_ might've made worse than it was because of how my parents reacted. Actually, over reacted might be a better statement."

"Speaking of parents then, are you going to tell them about knowing Erik?" I asked.

She shook her head. "No. At least, not until after _Night of the Stars_. I don't want them to freak out before then."

"That might be a good idea."

"I think so too. But enough about me, let's talk about you and Erik!"

I laughed. "What is there to know? You all ready found out he's my boyfriend."

"Yeah, but what have you guys done together?"

"Hmm… he actually cooked dinner for me, and we've watched movies together."

"That's not what I mean. Have you two, well, _you _know."

"Know what?"

She sighed dramatically and wrapped her arms around the light post. "Have you two made mad, passionate lov…"

I stopped her before she could take that thought any further. "Oh God, Maggie! You know me better than that!"

"Well, I had to ask. And Chris, I wouldn't blame you if you had. He does have a nice body."

"_Mine_." I warned teasingly, "I don't really care if you look, just don't touch."

She giggled. "You know I wouldn't dream of it."

We smiled at each other. "Yeah, I know." I said.

"But seriously… what have you two done then? Since it can't be _that_…"

I studied her for a moment, wondering if I should tell her about what had happened on the stage floor. I knew she wouldn't judge me, but would it gross her out?

_Come on Chris,_ I thought to myself, _We're now old enough to know that boys don't have cooties… and you want her to be able to talk to you when something like this happens in her personal life._

So, I motioned her to lean toward me, and I whispered in her ear about what happened. By the time I was done, we both were kind of laughing about it. I guess we were giddy about the fact that one of us had actually had a decent encounter with a guy… something notable.

"And, it wasn't weird?" She asked me later, "To let him… hold you like that?"

"No." I admitted, "It felt good to me. It felt like I was safe. And it was a big deal to him too. He said it was like me showing that I trusted him."

"You two seem pretty serious."

I gave a slight smile. "Mags… he said he loved me today."

"Oh my God, he did?"

"Yeah, and I told him I loved him." I said.

"I _knew_ it!" She exclaimed excitedly, "I totally knew it! Back when we called him Desmond I knew you loved him! I could just _tell_ there was something going on."

"I'm happy you were right, Mags."

"I'm happy that I was right too, Chris." At last we said goodbye, and I walked home by myself.

For the next day and a half all I did was clean the house and veg around on the couch. I enjoyed the rest, but I looked forward to being on stage again and being busy with rehearsals. I knew that when I wasn't rehearsing my piece I would be putting away costumes from _Swan Lake_ or helping others find clothing they needed for the talent show. Most of the acts all ready had their own outfits picked out from home, but some (like Jamie and Maggie) might've wanted some sort of extra accessory to go with their costume, like a short-sleeved suit jacket.

That Saturday night I actually laid down on the couch, and thought through what I could wear with my act. My homecoming dress could have made the cut, but the look of it didn't match my song, and besides, I had all ready worn it to the after party for _Swan Lake_.

"Maybe I could make my black dress work…" I brainstormed.

Suddenly my cell phone rang, and I was pulled out of my thoughts. I stood up, and quickly walked over to where it was: inside my purse on the kitchen counter. As soon as it was in my hands I looked at the caller ID, but realized that it was a number I didn't know. Shrugging, I flipped it open, wondering who was calling at nine o'clock at night.

"Hello?"

"Chris, is that you?" A soft voice asked from the other side of the line.

My curiosity piqued upon recognizing who it was. "Yeah Mrs. Gardens, it's me." I reassured.

She sighed. "I'm so glad you answered. I didn't think you'd pick up this late at night."

"Why? What's going on? Is Maggie okay?"

"Yes dear, Maggie's fine. She's at home right now. I'm calling you from the theater on my cell. I'm with Erik right now."

My stomach dropped. "What's going on with Erik?"

"I can't tell you right now. I just need help with him. He… he isn't doing well. Just, please, get up here as soon as you can."

Without thinking I said, "I'll be up there in ten minutes" and closed my phone.

I got dressed as fast I could, since I had changed into my pajamas earlier. Rummaging through my drawers I found jeans and a purple tank and threw them on. Next I grabbed my black jacket on the way out and raced to my car. I didn't even bother to take my purse; I only had my cell phone and my car keys with me.

I opened the driver side door, and within ten seconds, was driving toward the theater. I was probably speeding, but I didn't care. I knew something was wrong. Mrs. Gardens wouldn't have called me for nothing.

Finally I barreled into the theater drive, parked my car, and at last made my way up to the entrance. I pushed the front door open, relived that it was unlocked and knowing that Mrs. Gardens had done so for me, and then I made my way to the stage.

"Mrs. Gardens!" I called, looking around in the auditorium. Nothing was lit, and it felt eerie, like I was in an abandoned house. "Mrs. Gardens, where are you? Mrs. Gardens!"

"Chris, I'm backstage! Go to the entrance to the underground rooms!"

I let out a deep breath hearing her voice, and as quickly as I could, made my way behind the curtain. Soon I saw her in black capris and a green long-sleeved shirt, standing next to the open wall, leading down below ground.

"Thank God you came!" She exclaimed, gently taking a hold of my arm, "I'm sorry I called you this late, but I had no other choice. He needs you right now."

"Mrs. Gardens, what's going on with Erik?" I asked as we hurried down the stairs, "Is he hurt?"

"He hasn't been well since you left him on Friday." She answered, "I had come down a few hours ago, to talk to him about _Night of the _Stars and I found him lying in his music room unconscious. His knuckles were bleeding, and I could tell from the blood on the walls, he had been hitting them. When he gets into his darker moods, he does a lot of damage to himself. Usually I could wake him up, and try to talk to him about what was going on… but I touched his arm and realized he was extremely warm. He has a high fever, and he's been sweating in his sleep and having nightmares. I've given him medicine and have tried cold rags on him, but nothing helps. And when he has these dreams he calls your name, Chris. He screams it over and over again, and then becomes quiet. But after that silence… he cries. I've never seen him cry like that, while dreaming. He's awaken a few times, and I've tried to coax out of him what he's been dreaming of, but he doesn't tell me. He's either too weak to, or he won't. I really can't tell. Occasionally he's asked to see you, but he doesn't quite seem coherent when he does, because he'll deny the request minutes later. I'm hoping that he may talk to you, and that you might give him some type of comfort."

"What about Mr. Gardens? Has he helped at all?"

"I've tried to reach him, but I can't. He had a meeting to go to for his work, and he said he wouldn't be home until late. I've been with Erik for almost four hours. He's had long fits, but never one this peculiar, this violent." She suddenly stopped at his bedroom door, and placed a hand upon it. "He's in here. Chris, can I trust you to be strong right now, and not fear him? Not reject him? If you can't, you need to walk away right now."

"No. I can do this." I stated.

She nodded, and then opened the door for me. I braced myself for what I would see… and I was glad I did.

I walked inside, and saw Erik was lying on his bed with his mask off. He was curled up slightly into a ball, and he was wearing a pair of black, drawstring pajama pants and a tight fitting white shirt. His forehead was glistening with sweat, and he held the sheets underneath him tightly in his fists. It seemed like, even in his sleep, he was clinging onto them for dear life. His knuckles were bandaged, because of the wounds Mrs. Gardens had told me about, and I noticed on the back of his hands were bruises. I then remembered the time I went to him for a lesson in the orchestra pit, and I saw his wounds treated like they were now. A shudder ran through me. Had he endured one of these fits right before I had seen him that day?

I edged closer, still gazing at his frighteningly pale form. Suddenly he began to shake violently, and I jumped back.

"He's dreaming." Mrs. Gardens explained behind me, "He'll start screaming soon. Remain strong."

I tried too, as seconds later; he produced a dreadful wail like none I heard before. It seemed to cut through my being, and then hit my heart. And then he yelled my name:

"Chris! Dear God, Chris! No! Chris! Chris!"

I began to quickly move toward him, but Mrs. Gardens grabbed my shoulder.

"Wait!" She hissed.

I did as she asked, and again another change took over him. He became frightfully still, and tears began to fall down his face.

"I'm sorry, my love." He whispered, "May God… may you forgive me." And then he cried silently, and soon went back to the way he was when I originally had seen him.

I found myself shaking, and Mrs. Gardens pulled out two chairs for both of us. I gratefully sat down, and she reached over and grasped my hand.

"I know it's scary." She soothed, "God knows, I've endured a lot of times with him like this. I once found him after he hit his head against a mirror. I thought he had died, or was going to. That was the worst night of my life."

"No!" I gasped, feeling tears rise to my eyes, "My Erik wouldn't…"

"No, he wouldn't now. But back then he tried to kill himself. Imagine the pain he went through, the hurt he had, knowing that he would go through life in solitude."

"That's not true anymore." I argued, "I won't leave him."

She shook her head and sighed. "Dear, you're seventeen. You don't know what you will or will not do in your life."

"I. Won't. Leave. Him." I repeated.

She sighed, but did not address my statement. "We'll have to keep vigil for now." She said, "Wait till he wakes for a moment, so that he might see you."

I shrugged, and continued to gaze at him.

"My Erik," I murmured, "My wonderful Erik…"

Suddenly he groaned. "Chris?" He mumbled, opening his eyes, "Chris?"

I shot up from my chair and leapt over to him. "Erik!"

"Hold on, stay back!" Mrs. Gardens cautioned. But I ignored her, and bent down to grasp Erik's hand.

"It's all right now." I soothed, "Everything will be…" But before I could finish my sentence he placed his hands on my shoulders, and pushed me away from him.

The force of his arms almost made me fall back, and I managed to catch myself on a chair. I tried to say something, but I couldn't. He had never been violent like that, and it surprised and scared me. I finally willed myself to look up at him, but I could see his attention was on Mrs. Gardens, not me.

"I asked you not to bring her here." He stated.

"Erik, you kept calling for her in your sleep." She explained, "I finally had to do something."

"I don't want her to see me like this. I don't want to hurt her!"

_Hurt me?_ I wondered. _How could the Erik I know, the one who got Richard to back off of me, try to harm me in any way?_

"Why are you afraid of that?" Mrs. Gardens asked. I let out a deep breath. So I wasn't the only one wondering.

He glanced down, and finally collapsed back on the mattress. "I can't tell you." He said exhaustedly, "I don't want to be proven that I'm the monster I thought I was."

I stood up straight, and made my presence known. "Monsters don't create beautiful music." I said, "Monsters don't play piano like you do, or write plays or musicals. Monsters don't give young girls singing lessons, when that girl thinks she's hopeless. And monsters especially don't sing like the Angel of Music."

He shook his head. "I thought you were the angel in this relationship."

I tried to smile. "Funny, I thought you were." I took a deep breath then, and sat down next to him. Before he could back away, I grabbed his right hand in both of mine, and our fingers entwined together.

"What scared you?" I asked, "What made you freak like this?"

"I was hurting you." He said, "I dreamt we were both down in the music room, and you were about to take my mask off. Suddenly there was a mirror, and we both could see a reflection of my face. Except… it was so much worse, if you could imagine. It was as though the burns were fresh, and the skin was literally falling off my skull. You screamed and tried to run from me. That was when I grabbed you." At that moment he turned away from me, and wrenched his hand from mine. "I had my arms around your waist, and you were kicking and screaming to get away from me. I pinned you to the piano bench and—one thing lead to another—I can't do this. Chris, please."

"We promised we could talk to each other." I reminded him, "You can talk to me about this."

"I don't want to scare you."  
>"Erik, I'm scared for you now! I need to know what's happened, so that way I can help you. You were calling for me in your sleep for a reason. So… let's figure this out."<p>

He pulled his legs up to his chest, and slowly nodded. At last he continued his story. "Chris, next thing I knew, you were beneath me and I had my hand over your mouth. Your skin was pale, and you had stopped breathing. I realized what happened, and I tried to call you back to me. And then I knew… I had defiled you… and killed you."

When the last word had been said he became white as sheet, and he put a hand over his mouth. He flew out of his bed, almost knocking me down on the way out, but when he tried to take a step towards the door, he stumbled.

"Mrs. Gardens," He said weakly and urgently, "the bathroom…"

She moved out of her chair as fast as he did, and putting his arm on her shoulders, they hobbled to the bathroom.

"Let me help!" I cried, running after them.

"Chris, please stay!" He begged, and then he coughed, "Don't come near me right now, please!" He continued coughing as they turned the corner, and finally, I heard the bathroom door shut.

I made my down that hall, just so I could sit down near the door and hear what was going on. From inside, Mrs. Gardens' voice rose above Erik's coughing as she tried to soothe him. Minutes later I heard the sickening sound of choking, throwing up, and then dry heaving.

For a while there was deathly silence, and then the toilet flushed. I let out a sigh of relief as I listened to the din of their voices, and then the sound of the sink running. I heard Mrs. Gardens tell Erik to brush his teeth, and then ask if he had a spare wash cloth.

Seconds later, without warning, he came out of the bathroom with the support of Mrs. Gardens. Before he could stop me I ran to the other side of him and allowed his weight to shift against me. He opened his mouth to argue, but then said nothing.

Quietly we helped him back into bed, and I sat down at his side. Mrs. Gardens sat in a chair a part from us, and we both waited for someone to break the silence. That someone ended up being me.

"I love you." I said, "And I won't leave, no matter what you dream of or how you react to it. So stop having that fear, and get used to the fact that when you're hurt, I'll come running."

"I'm broken." He said.

"No. Broken is being _un_disturbed by what you dreamt about. Erik, you became physically ill at the thought of hurting me. That's not broken. That's morally… stable, I guess, in lack of a better word."

"Most people would have left me by now."

I shook my head. "Mrs. Gardens and I aren't most people. We love you, and love doesn't walk away. That's just how people are. So I guess that means you're stuck with Mrs. Gardens, Mr. Gardens, and me forever."

He looked past me and at Mrs. Gardens. "You love me?"

She smiled. "Of course I do. And Chris is right, Mr. Gardens loves you too."

He gave a slight smile. "I never thought three people would ever love me."

"It's true." I said, brightening, "And even though it's in different ways, we'll always love you."

Erik was silent for a moment, and he reached over and grasped my hand. "I love you too. You, Mrs. Gardens, and Mr. Gardens."

To my surprise, I heard her snivel behind me. "I never thought I'd hear that." She whispered, "Never…" She stood up, and walked over to Erik, bending down to kiss his cheek. "I think there are still things to discover about you, dear Erik." After she said that, she placed her hand over his forehead. "Your fever's breaking. Thank God."

"Thank God." I echoed.

She let out a sigh, and then looked at the clock on the wall. "Oh wow. It's one in the morning Chris. You probably want to go home."

"Hey, I'm fine." I reassured, "Why don't you go and sleep? I can stay here. If something happens with Erik, I'll call you, all right?" She looked at me skeptically, and then shrugged.

"You know, I'm too tired to complain. Just, please, don't do anything dumb." She begged. "And if anything comes up, call."

"I will. I promise."

She smiled, and grabbed her purse that was on the table. "Okay. Well, goodnight you two. Chris, I'll call you later tomorrow to make sure your home."  
>"You mean today?" I teased.<p>

"Yeah, yeah." She said, "You know what I mean. Have a good night."

"Have a good night Mrs. Gardens."

At last she walked out the door and down the hallway. When I knew she was gone, I turned to Erik.

"Scoot over." I said. He made room for me on the bed, and I laid down, cuddling close to him.

"I'm sorry." He said, "About all that's happened."

"Don't apologize." I stated, "There's nothing to apologize for. If I wasn't doing well, you'd come to me. That's how relationships work."

"Are you tired?"  
>I shrugged. "Kind of."<p>

"Sleep then."

"Naw, I want to be awake if you need anything."

"I'm okay now. I'll nod off soon too." At that moment he pulled the covers out from underneath me, and lifted them across my frame. "I'll sing you to sleep."

"You can sing to me, but I won't sleep." I challenged.

"Well then," He chuckled, wrapping his arms around me, "let's see about that." At that moment he brought me to rest against his shoulder, and began to sing in a soft, soothing voice. The song I slightly recognized, and I believed it to be in Latin, even though I couldn't remember the name. But it was a beautiful piece, and something I could imagine his mother singing to him as a child:

"_Panis Angelicus_

_Fit panis ominum_

_Dat panis coelicus_

_Figures terminum…"_

He was right. Before he could sing the next measure, I had drifted off into sleep.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty: Morning Glory

The night passed quickly, my eight hours of sleep only seeming like a blink of an eye. The first thing I saw as my vision came into focus: Erik sitting across from the bed behind his easel. No mask is on his face, but his hair is combed. He wears a white t-shirt and jeans; both articles of clothing are paint splattered, with socked feet. I don't move as I continue to study him, and I realize that in his hand is a small, black paintbrush.

He dipped it into a small jar filled with dark blue paint, and looked back at the canvas. That's when he stopped painting, and finally leaned toward the side of the canvas to gaze at something else, other than his project. He noticed my eyes were open, and smiled.

"You're beautiful when you sleep." Erik said, "I woke up, and I had to paint you."

"You're too sweet to me." I murmured, my speech still impaired by the morning.

"No, I just understand beauty when I see it." He softly protested.

I let out a small laugh. "How are you feeling?" I asked.

He stood slowly from his chair and stretched his arms back. "Better," He answered, "a lot better. I ate some toast this morning, and I'm keeping it down. I don't feel sick. Just a little weak."

"You should rest then."

"I'm all right Chris. The painting helps. It reawakens my soul." He walked over to me, and placed a hand on my back, gently tracing his fingers up and down my spine. "I think someone is in need of some breakfast."

"Oh, really?" I sat up, "I think _someone_ is right about that."

He smiled, and helped me out of bed. Hand in hand we walked toward the kitchen, and after setting me down at the table, he got into the fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs.

"Sunny side up or scrambled?" He asked.

"Sunny side up." I said.

He turned on the stove after setting a frying pan on top of one of the burners, and then he leaned against the cabinet and looked at me, while waiting for it to warm up.

"You'll have to leave soon." He said, "Mrs. Gardens called. Mr. Gardens wants to practice with you this afternoon, and I think you might want to get a shower and change after last night's ordeal."

"Oh, when did he get back from his meeting last night?"

"Pretty late, but he wants to work with you. He's a perfectionist. He's always been that way with his business and such."

"I can't believe I didn't hear my phone go off. I must've been out cold…"

"She called the theater. She thought you might be sleeping. Anyway, you'll have to leave in about an hour or so."

I sighed. "I want to stay with you."

"I know." Erik reached out and brushed a piece of hair away from my face. "The time we have never seems like enough, does it?"

"No, it doesn't."

"I wish I could be normal with you, Chris. I wish I could live like you do."

"You can!" I cried, standing up, "Erik, scars aren't an abnormal thing! People are really accepting nowadays. There are soldiers who go over seas that fight and get deformities. The world doesn't turn their back on them."

"You say the world is accepting, but remember how Jamie screamed when she first saw me? And how Maggie fainted? I literally scare people. And I'm not a soldier. I'm not someone who went to Japan or Vietnam to fight for our freedom. I'm just someone who was hurt as a little kid… a kid who was a coward and ran from his parents as they were dying…"

My heart fell to my stomach as he said that. Taking a deep breath, I stood up and wrapped my arms around him. "Erik," I whispered, "Stop punishing yourself. Is that why you live down here? As atonement for a decision you made as a child? You were scared for you life! What else were you supposed to do? What else would an average kid do if he saw burning bodies reaching for him?"

He gently backed out of my arms, and turned toward the cabinet, taking two eggs and cracking them into the pan. I sat back down, and allowed him to fix my breakfast in silence, save for the sizzling of the pan.

After a few minutes he slid the eggs onto a plate, and set it in front of me.

"Toast?" He asked quietly. I shook my head. He turned away once more to grab a glass and fill it with water for me.

As soon as he gave me my beverage, he walked out of the kitchen and back down the hall, to where his bedroom was. I finished eating quickly, not liking the unsettling feeling between Erik and I, and placed my dishes in the sink. Soon I found myself retracing his footsteps, creeping toward his bedroom, and entering it without giving him warning.

His back was turned to me, and he was pulling off his painting shirt to put on a dark button down he had thrown on the back of a chair. I couldn't help but watch as, for the very first time, I saw his torso exposed. I managed to stop a gasp coming from my throat, as I examined his back and shoulders.

He was horribly scarred, in a manner that was just like this face—with that melted wax look. He had told me that only his face had been burnt, not everywhere else. My stomach dropped inside me, and my pity for him grew even deeper. Yet as I looked, I noticed how well muscled he was. Shallow thing for me to notice, I know, but he was in incredible shape. Strong arms, tight back, tone shoulders…

At that moment he turned around, and when he saw me, stiffened in surprise. His chest and stomach was, of course, disfigured, but again strong looking. I could even see a hint of a six-pack.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice coming out in a whisper, "I didn't know. You didn't tell me… or maybe I forgot…"

"No, I didn't tell you." Erik sighed, "I didn't want to. It's pretty bad, isn't it?"

I swallowed. "Actually, I think what I'm seeing is… rather nice."

He gave a playful smirk. "Nice?"

I walked over shyly, and placed my hand on his ribcage area. His muscles stiffened as I touched him, and he glanced away from me, as though ashamed.

"What is it?" I asked.

"It's been a while since anyone has seen me, or touched me, like this." He explained, "I hardly look at myself, actually. You could understand why."

"Then why are you in such great shape if you never look?"

He shrugged. "I just… I don't know. I guess my climbing around the catwalk does some good, and I work out to get rid of my pent up energy. And I dance."

"You dance?" I giggled.

"It's something to do. I watch the ballet dancers all the time. I used to watch you and Mag."

I tried to hold back a snort. "I'm sorry," I said, "I just can't believe you dance. You're very graceful, but I just…"

Suddenly he wrapped his arm around me, dipped me back almost to the floor, pulled me back up, spun me around, and then pressed my back to his chest with his hands flat across my waist. Let's just say it made me stop giggling.

"I'm very good." He said lightly, "And I'm beginning to like the effect it has on you."

I turned my head toward his, and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Erik?" I sighed.

"Yes?"

"Kiss me please."

He turned me to face him, and pulled me against his chest. I didn't realize exactly what was going on, only that a certain energy, a pent up craziness almost, was mounting inside. Our lips locked and our arms tightened around each other. I closed my eyes, and I felt him walk me back a few feet, and then push me against a nearby wall. His hands left my back, and searched above my stomach for the secret treasures he had just recently learned the appeal of.

I let him hold me, caressing me in a way that made me groan, when suddenly he backed away from me. He was so sudden I almost fell to the floor, and I would have, had I not grabbed the nearby bed frame to steady my shaking legs on. I at last opened my eyes, to see he was leaning on the table, breathing roughly.

"Erik, are you okay?" I asked.

He looked up at me and gave a small smile.

"Chris, we can't do this." He said, "Not right now. I have to get you back up to the theater soon, and with Mrs. Gardens trusting us like she has… if things got out of hand and she found out, it would break her heart."

I looked down and nodded. "I know. I need to control myself better too. I always forget that you're close to my age, which makes you a horny teenager too."

A flash of surprise ran across his face, and then he laughed. "I guess that's true. I never thought of myself as being…"

"What? Normal like that?"

He continued to chuckle, and he grabbed his shirt on the chair and buttoned it up. "Honestly, yes. When you live like me, it's hard to picture yourself normal in any regards."

"Erik," I said, walking over to him, "I don't care about any of that 'abnormal' stuff. It's part of who you are, and I love you."

He took my hand. "I love you too, Christine. Now, let's go. You have to get to your practice after all. I'll take you back up to the theater."

As soon as I grabbed my jacket, cell phone, and car keys we were soon walking back up to the stage through the tunnels. In less than five minutes we were out in the lobby, and his arms were wrapped around me as we were saying goodbye. The only light in the entire building was bits of sunlight streaming through the windows. And call me a hopeless romantic, but it made the moment even more fairytale like.

"Can I come see you on Tuesday?" I suggested, "I want you to relax, and try to get over what happened this week."

"Love, our lessons don't tire me. I can see you on Monday. I'll be okay, love." He promised.

"Don't 'I'll be okay' me, Erik. I want you to gain back your strength and try to process everything, all right? Could you just do this, because I care and worry about you? Pretty please?"

He seemed reluctant, but at last he nodded. "All right, Nurse Davis. Whatever you ask."

I smiled and kissed him. "Good. See you on Tuesday?"

"Yes. But if something happens…"

"Calm down hon. Nothing is going to happen between now and Tuesday. Everything is going to be fine. I just want you to relax."

"All right then. Let me kiss you then, before you slip away."

"Well… if I must Mr. Erik Kynaston." I teased. At that second he bent over to plant a rough kiss on my lips, and we embraced.

That was when I heard the horrifying _click_ of a cell phone camera going off to my right, and I quickly spun toward the sound. What, and who, I saw made my heart skip a beat.

There was Richard, his Blackberry in hand, stepping out from behind the curtain of one of the windows. Before Erik could move away or cover his face with his hands, he snapped one more picture of my boyfriend's scarred face, and then I heard him push a button on his phone to save both photos.

"Rich, what the hell are you doing here?" I asked roughly, stepping in front of Erik.

"I'm here to practice with my band." He said, "And I arrived thirty minutes early. But shouldn't I be asking the questions right now, Chris? Probably I should start by asking you _who_ you're doing here, not what."

"I'm not _doing_ anyone." I said, "And leave him out of this. It's me you have the problem with, not him."

"Actually, it is mostly him I have the problem with." He confessed, "After all, isn't this the guy who pulled you from me at the dance? Is this your Casanova, your mentor, who has been giving you lessons?"  
>My mouth dropped open. "How did you…?"<br>"It's simple, really Chris. I've had a gut feeling you've known this guy for a while, and ever since you've known him, your voice has gotten better, hasn't it? And women always fall for the older, master musician type. What I don't understand is how he got you to lower your standards, so he could have some _fun_ with you…"

At that second Erik bolted out from behind me, and leapt over to tackle Richard. In the nick of time I grabbed his arm and pulled him back toward me.

"Stop!" I begged, "Please Erik, don't let him get to you. It's not worth it."

"I will not allow him to disrespect you!" He yelled, still standing like he would go at Rich again, "I don't care what he says about me, but I will not let some scum of the Earth call you a whore."

"Then please, don't fight him for my sake. I love you too much to see you…"

"Oh, you _love_ him?" Richard spat, "You have freaking fallen in love with him! How cute! It's like beauty and the grotesque, ugly beast! Is he house broken Chris?"  
>"Stop! What do you want?" I asked, "Why are you doing this, Richard?"<p>

He sighed, and leaned against the wall behind him. "Here's the thing, Chris. I'm willing to make a deal with you, when it comes to the pictures I now have on my Blackberry. I won't show or tell anyone about what I've seen. But only on one condition."

I stared down Richard, trying to guess what he could want. I knew that protecting Erik's identity counted on me making this deal.

"What's the condition?" I inquired.

"Chris don't do this…" Erik said.

"The condition is this," Richard began, "DJ Walker, the guy who MC-ed the last cast party, is a friend of mine. He said he has a friend that's a producer… you might have heard of her. Does the name Quinn Lockhart ring a bell?"

I felt my stomach drop recognizing the name, and a wave of nostalgia came over me. "Yes," I said softly, "she did work with my father when he was playing his violin."

"Exactly. Well, she's coming out to our show, looking for fresh talent. No gimmicks, just a good sound and performer she can mold. There's only one problem. She wants both girls and guys in a group. And sadly, I don't have any girls."

I looked down at myself. "Rich, you can't be serious…"

"I am." He stated, "You're the most talented girl I know, and can sing like nobody's business. If you sing with my band at the talent show, I won't tell anyone about your boyfriend here."

"Yeah, except there's one problem Rich." I said, "I hate your guts."

"Let me finish." He hissed testily, "This would be to get my band's name out there. If you didn't want to go into a contract with us, but Lockhart still thought we were good, another label can pick us up. If she's willing to let us sign a deal without you, then okay. But it would be good, for both of us. It would be recognition for you and me." He paused for a moment, and glanced at Erik. "But while you're working on my act with me, I don't want you seeing your boy toy."

I crossed my arms. "Go to Hell. What right do you have to tell me who I can or can't see? If I can't see my boyfriend, I'm not doing this."

"Then I'll release the pictures."

I looked over Rich, and realized this was the guy I had once admired and crushed on… the guy who used to be my best friend. "My God Richard, what happened to you?" I asked, "You used to be so cool. You were a great friend and everyone liked you. Why are you acting like this now?"

"Because apparently, perfectly decent dudes can't get the good girl." He said, "Apparently, girls like you go off with guys like that." He pointed to Erik "Guys who like to steal girls from their boyfriends."

"He has nothing to do with you!" I yelled, "For heaven's sake Richard! Erik and I, we've known each other since _before_ you and I went on our first date. I just didn't know I liked him at the time! Yes, Rich, I lead you on and I am so, so sorry for that! I didn't mean to hurt you. I just didn't know I…"

"What? Loved a freak? God Chris, I really cared about you! I wanted to go out with you ever since eighth grade, but I never had the guts to ask you. And then I did, and it blew up in my face."

I took a deep breath, and pushed my hair back. "Rich, if our friendship ever meant anything to you, don't share those pictures around. You don't know the situation. I'll sing in your act, and I'll do what I can in it, but I need Erik. You were right when you said he was teaching me to be a better singer. He is giving me lessons. So if you want me to be at my best, I have to see him."

He looked at me, probably noticing the tears in my eyes, and shook his head. "Okay. Whatever. You can see him. But I want him to work with my voice too. I want to be at these lessons."

I glared at him. "No. Deal's off. I won't do this."

"Oh yes, you will." Erik said.

I turned to look at him. "Erik, I can't do this, and you can't…"  
>"But we will." He insisted, "I don't care about my reputation, but I care about yours. If this were to get out around the theater, especially with the producer coming, your chances of getting a record or performance deal from this would be gone. And besides, this woman would also get the chance to hear you sing by yourself too."<br>"Yeah, I won't make you give up your act, Chris." Rich said, "You could just sing your song and my band's song. We've all ready learned _Broken _by Amy Lee and Seether, since we all know you know it." I tried to hold back a groan. I _hated_ that song. I thought it was over played on all the music stations, and I didn't like the way the lead singer of _Seether_ sounded slightly like a redneck when he sang. "We can run through it in the next two weeks every day, and be okay." He continued, "Come on, just do it."

"Well, I have a problem with you pulling my boyfriend into this!"

"Chris, look at it this way. If you don't do this, you'll lose your chance with this producer, the truth about you and your boyfriend comes out," Richard held up his phone again, "and I tell everyone who he is and what he looks like. Wasn't your name Erik Kingston or something like that?"

I was somewhat relieved that Richard had no clue who Erik really was, for now, but I understood that if he went online and did some digging, he might find out eventually. And if those photos got out of his face, it would destroy what little peace he had.

But then, I loved Erik. I didn't want Erik forced into a crappy deal, where he would have to critique someone he loathed. It sickened me.

"Do this, Christine." Erik whispered from behind me, "I don't care a damn about those photos, but if you were to blow this chance on getting your voice out there…"

"Well I don't care about the producer." I interrupted, glancing at him then turning back to Richard, "Rich, just tell me this: if I'm a part of your act, will the photos be destroyed, and will his secret be safe? I don't care what you say about me, and I don't care if you completely screw me over with this record deal thing, but leave my boyfriend out of this."

"Christine, don't ruin your own chances because of me!" Erik begged.

"No, he has to work with me too. If you _have_ to see him, then I get advice also," Richard said, "But after this is all said and done, I'll destroy the photos and I'll never say a word about this to anyone."

"Okay then." Erik said, "We'll do this."

"Erik!"

"Chris, we have to go along with this."

I sighed, while trying to fight back tears, and held out my hand. "I'll do it." I said, "I'll perform that damn song with you."

Rich gave a sick smile, seeing that I was giving in, and he walked over to shake on the deal. After the exchange, he turned to walk toward the stage.

"My band will be here in about fifteen minutes." He said, "We can rehearse soon."

"I'm not practicing today." I stated, "I've done a lot of work this weekend, and I don't feel good. My voice needs to rest."

"Fine," he sneered, "have it your way. But on Monday in the afternoon, let's say around eight at night or something like that, we work on our stuff. Got it?"

I turned to Erik and he nodded. "Got it."

"Great," He said turning his heel, "I see you later Chris, Erik."

With every step Rich took toward the theater my heart sank, and I felt like I would throw up. As soon as he was gone and out of earshot, I leaned against Erik's chest and let out a muffled cry into his chest.

"Christine," He whispered, "Why? Why did you say all that stuff about not caring about the producer? Now he'll make sure that you don't get anything out of the deal."

"Erik, there were the photos…" I uttered, "I didn't want you exploited, and it was my way of trying to make sure I could still see you."

"I don't care if I'm exposed or not! Knowing that he'll screw you over with this deal, and make a mockery out of your talent… I don't like seeing you be used!"

"Seeing _me_ used? Erik, he's using both of us!"

"I know, I know." He sighed, "Let's stop talking about this, all right? I have to try to get back to the underground…"

"Just come home with me." I said, "I don't want Rich seeing something and getting suspicious, which means we need to make sure he doesn't catch you around the theater."

"But you have practice with Mr. Gardens." He pointed out.

"I don't feel like singing today." I mumbled, "I couldn't. I'll call Maggie, and have her tell him I don't feel good, since we can't have them find out about this."

He glanced down. "All right. But that song, _Broken_… I do want to work on it with you."

I looked at him suspiciously. "Why?"

"Because," He said, wrapping his arms around my waist, "if you are going to sing that song with Richard, you're going to be better than him. Everything you do, darling, you must do with excellence… even if you hate the song."

My mouth dropped open. "How did you know I hated…?"

"I could tell by the look on your face." He said, slightly smiling, "Now, we have to go. Since I don't have my mask with me, can I borrow your jacket? I can put the hood up."

I nodded, and quickly slipped the covering off of me. I was glad I had worn my black one; instead of the pink one I had come close to grabbing. It fit him surprisingly well, and after he put the hood up, we walked out of the theater.

It was a bright, sunny Saturday morning, with luckily, no many people around. A few cars passed by now and then as we made out way to my vehicle in the parking lot, but other than that, there wasn't even a soul walking around. Everyone was probably still sleeping, I realized, or down at the beach trying to catch some early morning waves.

Erik and I got into my car, and without saying a word, we drove home. He kept his head turned away from the window, and pulled the hood down more to cover his face. Minutes later we made it to my house, and after parking the car in the drive, walked quickly to the front door.

I took my keys out of my pocket, and let us in into the house. Feeling relieved that no one saw us I shut the door, threw my car keys on the coffee table, and collapsed on the couch. Erik took off my hoodie, placed it on the piano bench, and walked over to sit next to me.

"Are you okay?" He asked softly, pushing my hair back out of my face.

"No." I said honestly, "I'm not okay, Erik. I'm not okay with any of this. I'm not okay with the idea that Richard can manipulate us, and that I was stupid enough to not be more careful…"

"Be more careful? With what? Circumstance? None of this could have been avoided." He argued, "You know that, love. The only way you could have stopped this from happening is if you could see into the future."

"Maybe everyone was right though. Maybe, what Mr. Gardens originally thought is true… that I'm not good for you."

"Stop. You can't beat yourself up for this. You know that what you're saying isn't true, so cut it out. I'm more patient now than I ever was, I'm not as angry, I'm more forgiving… I'm happier. You make me a better person, Christine." He wrapped his arms around me, and lifted me to his chest. "We'll be okay. It's only two weeks of dealing with Richard. After that, everything will be fine. Stop doubting yourself." He kissed my forehead. "I actually have something for you."

I sat up, moving out of his arms. "You do?"

"Yeah." He said, leaving the couch, and getting on his knees in front of me.

I gasped. "Erik, what are you doing?"

He gave a small smile, and pulled a velvet box out of his pocket. It was at that moment my heart stopped beating.

"It's not what you think, Chris!" He laughed, "Calm down, you're white as sheet. I'm not going to ask you to marry me."

I let out a deep breath. "Then don't set me up like that, Erik! I didn't want to look you in the eye, and have to tell you I'm too young for that kind of thing."

"I know, and I am too. But this is, well at least to me, almost as big." He opened the box, and inside was a heart shaped pendant, about the size of a poker chip, outlined in small diamonds… and another type of deep red sparkling stone. It was set in silver, and hung off a matching chain with a lobster tail clip.

"Are those…?"

"Rubies? Yes." He said, "Everything on here is real. Diamonds, silver, it's all real. This was my mother's."

"It was? How did you get a hold of it?"

"A few years ago, my aunt decided to auction off some of my parents' things for charity, a very noble thing for her to do, and I caught wind of it thanks to the Internet. I put in a bid for this necklace anonymously, and won. It cost me half of what I made that year on royalties, but it was worth it. I actually remember seeing my mother wear this around the house," at this point he began tearing up, "and she let me keep it in a small box in my room for her when she was gone on a trip. My father gave this to her after they had been dating for a while, and I…"

At that second he let out a sob, and I quickly moved on the floor next to him to hug him. But while I was trying to be strong for him, I was crying too.

"Erik," I murmured, "Oh, Erik, it's a beautiful memory. That's what makes this necklace so gorgeous, not the stones or silver, but the fact that this is a piece of your mother."

"I want you to have it." He said, wiping away his tears, "I've thought about giving this to you for a while, and I want you to keep it with you. I want you to have a piece of my family, a reminder of my love, where ever you go and in your life."

He took it out of its box, and clipped it around my neck. It settled on my chest like it had always meant to be there, next to my heart.

"It's beautiful." I said.

"No," he said, "You're beautiful."

Once more his lips met mine, and we tightened our arms around each other. He pushed me back on the floor, still kissing me, and his hands held my own above my head. In that moment I realized that, no matter what happened in the future, I would always love this man in some way. My heart was now a part of his, and his heart was a part of mine. What we were in was deep and spiritual, and I could keep telling myself that I was just a stupid teenager infatuated, but I knew it wasn't true. I would have walked away from him that weekend if it had been. And looking at where we were know only hours later, I knew that what was happening was real.

He pulled away to look at me, and then gave a soft smile. "Why is it, whenever I'm in your house, we end up on the floor?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Probably because we've fallen for each other."

"Ha, _pun_ny." He sat up and looked down at me. "You need to call Maggie, and tell her to talk to Mr. Gardens."

"Yeah, right." I said, getting up. "Thanks."

"Oh, and could you pull up that song you're doing with Richard on Youtube? We'll have to get started on that if you're going to be singing twice in the talent show."

I nodded, and hurried into my room with my cell phone to call Maggie. Even though I was trying to be upset still about singing with Rich, I wasn't. Why? Because I realized that doing two songs meant that I would have to see Erik whenever possible to work on them. And even Richard wouldn't be able to argue with that logic.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty-One: Shadows of Remembrance

"Chris, are you sure you want to do _two_ acts?"

I looked at Mrs. Gardens, studying the surprised look on her face. It was a Monday morning, and preparation for the talent show was all ready underway. We had one backdrop we used every year for the show, which was a midnight blue backdrop with stars painted on it, and at the moment people were working on their acts in the ballet room. Our main sound and light guy, Archie, was in the booth looking at effects that would match each piece. At that moment Richard and I were talking with Mrs. Gardens in the audience about our spur of the moment decision.

I could understand the shocked look honestly. Everyone around the theater knew I had some kind of falling out with Rich, and to see me suddenly want to perform with him came as a shock to a lot of people. Yet no one knew that A-list producer Quinn Lockhart was coming to the show, or that I was being blackmailed.

"Yeah," I said, faking a smile, "Rich and I have talked about it, and since we both know the song and his group knows the song, it wouldn't be an issue to just do it. You don't have to change anything stage wise, and costumes shouldn't be a problem since we'll just be wearing our street clothes." (For those who aren't in theater, street clothes/street makeup are the clothes or makeup that one wears everyday in the real world. When a show that takes place in present day is being done, the director will sometimes ask the actor in a role to bring "street clothes" or "street makeup" from home to wear that will match the character being portrayed.)

"Chris," Mrs. Gardens sighed rubbing her eyes, "I don't know if I can just let this change all of a sudden. I mean, I know that you two are amazing performers, but if I could just hear you two do the song…"

"Yes, of course." Richard said, "We can definitely let you hear the song. But if we could have at least until tomorrow…"

"I can do it now." I stated.

Rich looked over at me, giving a slight glare. "But Chris, we haven't practiced with the band…"

"I can do it." I said, "I know the song."

"Well if Ms. Davis can do it Rich, I don't see what the problem is." She pointed out, "Does your band know the song?"

"Yeah, we have it." He said, "Let me get them right now. Just give me a moment to set up with my amp, and have them get themselves in their places."

Mrs. Gardens nodded, still wary, but let us walk away to gather everyone. As soon as we were backstage, Rich spun around to face me.

"You've never rehearsed with my band." He growled, "How do you know what you're doing?"

"I have a kick ass teacher." I said, "Who, just so happens, can play a piece on the piano after only hearing it about four times."

He looked me over and nodded. "God, I hope this Erik as good as you say he is." He mumbled, walking away to get his band.

Minutes later we were on stage, me with a microphone in my hand, and everyone else with their instruments. Mrs. Gardens was sitting in the front row of the audience, with her arms crossed looking at us skeptically. We glanced at her, and she nodded to let us start.

I listened to the beginning measures, and waited for Richard to come in. After he sang his bit of the song, we merged together in the chorus, and his eyes widened to see me on pitch with the harmony. Then I sang my solo, and after a while, let the instrumental break with it's guitar and drums carry me back to the memory of Erik playing that part as a gorgeous piano piece. Now I found that bit of the song okay thanks to him. I smiled inside, realizing once again, that he brought out the best in me and everything we were involved with, no matter what the circumstance.

At last, we finished the song, and looked at Mrs. Gardens for approval.

"So, what do you think, Mrs. Gardens?" I said, in my sweetest voice. _God, please say no_. I secretly wished. _Please say no…_

But I knew from the slight smile on her face that she wasn't going to.

"Richard, Chris," She said, standing, "it would be an absolute crime if you two didn't do that song! What a pretty piece! Rich, I'm so happy you've decided to do something, well, not as angry. I never liked the strain in your voice when you did songs like that. I was actually hoping at the auditions you would do a soft song like this. I'm so glad you changed your mind. The crowd will love to hear a duet!"

I kept my smile up painfully, while groaning on the inside. I wish I could've messed up on purpose, but Erik's voice in my head kept saying, _Everything you do darling, must be done with excellence… even if you hate the song. That is how an artist and performer are. They can take anything they hate and make it beautiful_ and blah, blah, blah, blah. I had heard that a few times during our lesson the other day, and hearing it now, kind of wanted to make me punch myself in the face.

I walked backstage to help put the band's things away, since after all, I still liked them even though Richard was being an utter jerk. After everyone was taken care of, I left to go find some of the acts, to see what costumes they needed. I was relieved to find that only a few of the performers needed something, and that most of them were bringing their own costumes and props from home. In total only six acts out of the fourteen needed costumes. I would start pulling pieces for them to try out that day, and then for the rest of the week I would grab the performers when they had a free moment to have them try on their things and then tailor the outfits for them. I realized I might have to stay back in the theater to do my work if I was going to get it done in time. But with Erik also being there, that wasn't going to be a bad thing. I took a mental note to let him know this fact as soon as possible.

By the time I got back up to the costume room with my list it was almost noon, and I decided that since it was almost time for break for lunch, that I should just find Maggie and see if we could eat somewhere together. I flew downstairs to find her, and seconds later found her in the girls' dressing room.

She was pulling her hair out of its ponytail as I entered, and I could tell from the sweat on her forehead she had been working on her routine with Jamie moments before. No one else was around, probably they too were getting ready for lunch, so I set my purse down on the makeup table and pulled up a chair next to her.

"So what's up with you and Rich performing together?" She said suddenly, turning to face me, "And why didn't you tell me about it?"

"Hi Mags, it's nice to see you too." I mumbled.

"Don't joke around me, Chris." She warned, "Really, what's going on? Does Erik know? Oh God, please don't tell me you and Erik had a fight."

"No. Erik and I are… well fine isn't exactly the word." I admitted. "But our relationship isn't in jeopardy."

"Then, please tell me what's going on."

"I don't want to talk about it here. During our lunch break, let's run by McDonald's and eat down at the beach. Since it's a weekday there won't be too many people there. But, the walls have ears here, Mags."

"You mean we have eavesdropping younger ballerinas here?" She teased, "Fine. As long as you tell me everything."  
>"I will."<p>

"Then, let's get going now, before the crowds hit."

"But won't your mom notice we're gone?"

"It's only five minutes, Chris. And besides, Mom's so busy she probably wouldn't care. You know how she gets during _Night of the Stars_ time at the theater."

"Yeah, I know. So much work to be done, so little time."

By now we had picked up our purses and were walking out of the costume room.

"Hey Maggie, why did your mom decide to have such a time crunch on the talent show anyway?"

"Well," She began, "years ago, before I was born and when she first took on the theater, there was always this period of time between our two summer shows where the theater wasn't doing anything. It was one of those times were it'd be too early to start a show, but two late to do a new, full-fledged production. So my dad, being the businessman he is, told Mom to just have a talent show, where people from around here can audition and it can be a variety show. Their acts would have to be performance ready, and improv sketches could be done in-between them. That way the theater could sell tickets to this show, it'd be cheap to do, and the theater could make some extra cash. Well here we are, almost twenty years later, and _Night of the Stars_ has become the best selling show during our season. You know how we sell out the night we do it."

"Why is it only one night?"

She smiled. "Dad said that people would pay extra for a show they really wanted to see, if the time to see it was limited."

"Your father's brilliant."

"Yeah, and he knows it."

About ten minutes later we had made it to McDonald's and ordered our food, just as the lunch rush hit. As soon as we were called to come get our order, we quietly slipped out the front door so none of the other theater kids would notice we had been there, and quickly made our way down to the beach.

As we sat down on the sand, I looked around and noticed my prediction on the beach being pretty much abounded was right. About fifteen feet away from us was a man playing fetch with his dog, and a mother with her two kids making sand castles, but that was about it. So we dug out our food and began eating, with only the sound of the waves and a few seagulls in the background.

"So," Maggie prompted, "what's going on with you and Richard performing?"

I took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. "He knows about Erik, Mags."

She fumbled the cheeseburger she was holding. "Excuse me?"

"He knows about Erik."

"But, but how? I haven't said anything; I know you haven't said anything… Chris, what happened?"

I shrugged. "He caught Erik and I making out in the lobby yesterday. Erik wasn't masked and, the sicko, he took pictures of his face and threatened us…"

For the next fifteen minutes I told her everything that happened, from Erik's illness that weekend, to Quinn Lockhart visiting our talent show. I told her that Erik was now being forced to give Richard critique on the act, and that Richard had even tried to stop me from seeing Erik. But I had let it be known that there wasn't a chance in Hell that, that was going to happen.

"So, in the end, we had to agree to the deal. It was either that or Erik gets exploited. I'm personally not a fan of either option, but we don't have a choice."

Mag was silent for a few moments, now nibbling at her fries, but finally she spoke.

"You know, after the blow up during the _Swan Lake_ cast party, I thought that maybe Richard was just having issues. But now, I think he's a total asshole!" The frustration was clear in her eye and I put a hand on her arm.

"I did lead him on." I admitted, "I can see where he gets that. But I didn't know I was in love with Erik at the time. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty I guess. If I could go back into the past, I would change a few things. I would tell him the truth about how I felt, and maybe we could have smoothed things over. Richard would probably still be our friend, he would be eating with us now, and he would know the complete secret about Erik. I miss the non-jerk Rich."

"I do too." She said, "I hope that maybe he can pull out of this, but I don't know if he will."

"Yeah, I feel the same way."

"Is there anything I can do Chris, to make this better? Maybe I could talk to Rich, or at least knock some morals into him."

I laughed. "Mags, the offer is nice, but I don't think so. I don't want him to be out to get you too. If he found out you knew about Erik he might try to pull something with you. Let's face it, there's nothing we can do about it now, except try to not cause any drama with him. I may not even go to the after party for _Night of the Stars_. Oh, speaking of party, are we still having one? I know Candice didn't get the last spot in the show, so her family funding a party…"  
>"We're still having one." Maggie said, "My mom just talked to the family. They're willing to fund a party if Candice's name is on the front of the program, listed as a returning act to the show. I guess they wanted it in big letters and everything. It's really childish, but at least we get a bash. And yes, you are going to go, so don't act like you're not."<p>

"You know I can't. Not after what happened last time."

"Chris, you _have_ to go. You're the grand finale, and in two acts. No one can have an after show party without the star of the show showing up."  
>"I'm not the star though."<br>"Yes you are! Let's face it, you're the best singer in the entire show, and just your presence on stage gets to people in some way."

"Oh come on, you and Jamie are more talented than me, and you know it."

"Hey, I didn't say you were the best dancer. I just said you were the best singer." She teased.

We smiled at each other, and began picking up our lunch mess so we could head back to the theater. I wanted to get to work on my costume pulling before things got too hectic, and Maggie wanted to practice her routine by herself on stage.

Within ten minutes I was walking back upstairs to the costume closet, and was soon inside its walls. I closed the door behind me, and began to rummage through cocktails dresses, trying to see if there was one small enough for a ten-year-old wonder juggler named Allison. As I searched I suddenly heard a familiar voice behind me:

"Ah, it seems my little song bird is at work in her nest."

Before I could turn around to face the person behind me, I felt two arms wrap themselves around my waist, and pull me against its chest.

"Erik." I groaned, amused and slightly annoyed at the same time, "Erik, I have to work…"

"Your lunch break isn't over yet." He chuckled, "You still have twenty minutes. Plenty of time for some kind of dessert."

"I'm trying to get a head start on things."

"All right, how many costumes do you need for the acts?"

"Six, but I need to go over my list and find everything, then get it tailored if it's needed…"

"You all ready have a list of what you need? My dear, you need to relax."

"You could be caught here."

"The door is closed, and you and Maggie are the only two in the theater. Trust me, I checked." He kissed the side of my face and ran one of his hands through my hair. "I wanted to see you. After yesterday… I want to spend some private time with you while I can, since Richard will be at our lessons now. These moments will be hard to come by for the next two weeks."

Before I could say anything he turned me to face him and kissed my lips. Before he began his playful assault, I noticed what he was wearing: a midnight blue button down with jeans and converse. I gave a slight smile underneath his kiss. I loved that boy in blue, it always made his eyes pop out to me.

I finally wrapped my arms around him and gave in, enjoying his tenderness towards me. After kissing for a while he stepped away from me.

"I actually have something for you." He stated.

"Do you? After the necklace doll, I don't know what else you could give me." I said, looking down at the heart pendant around my neck.

He smiled and walked toward the costume table. It was there I saw a violin case.

"Remember yesterday, before we came back to the theater, you said you missed hearing the music of a violin?" He asked, unlatching the black covering to reveal the instrument inside.

"Oh, Erik," I sighed, as he placed the violin between his chin and shoulder, "you know I love it when you play. I only got to hear you a few times during our lessons."

"Just listen, my dear." He said, and ran the bow across the strings to make sure it was tuned. "Listen."

He began playing _Fur Elise _for me, and after that, switched into playing the melody to _Guardian Angel_ by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. I pulled up a stool to sit as I listened, becoming completely drawn into the music. I could hear him humming some of the notes softly, and the sound of his voice made me mentally check out for a few moments. I was lost in a place where the music and soul met, and danced together in a passionate embrace…

"I wonder what my little song bird is dreaming of." Erik said, at last pulling me from my thoughts.

I came out of my trance, and saw that his violin was in one hand, the bow in the other. Clearly he had stopped playing moments before, and I hadn't noticed.

"I'm sorry." I apologized quickly, "Oh God Erik, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to just faze out like that. I really was listening, I just went somewhere completely different."

"Don't try to explain." He said softly, placing his violin back in his case and walking toward me, "I understand. That place you went to, I often go there when I hear you sing. It's a beautiful place. It's like actually feeling the music, instead of just hearing it. And then sometimes, you see it."

"Yes, exactly! I used to feel that way when my father played, or when I heard your parents on the CDs I have of theirs."

His eyes clouded over, and he looked down. "You feel that way when you hear my parents' music?"  
>I stood and gently leaned against his chest. "Yes, Erik."<p>

"They would've thought that was the highest compliment you could pay them. Thank you, Chris. It's nice to know someone still feels that way about their work."  
>"A lot of people feel that way. You know that thousands still listen to them all the time, on Youtube or ITunes. I know I listen to them. I've started listening to their music more now that I know you. Your music and theirs, you can see the similarity."<p>

"What's the same about it?"

I smiled. "You sing and perform with heart. And it helps that you sound like an angel, just like your mother."

He shook his head. "I'm not an angel, Chris. I'm anything but an angel."

I shrugged. "You know, when I was younger, my father once told me he knew the Angel of Music, who was the master of all song and art. He told me that if he ever saw the Angel in a dream again, he would send him to me so I could learn to sing. Weeks ago I thought it was just a fairytale, but looking at my life now," I smiled and pushed myself forward to kiss Erik, "maybe that story had truth to it after all."

For a few moments he was quiet, and he bent down to kiss my face and hair. He left no place untouched by his lips, even kissing the tip of my ear and jaw line.

"I love you." He said.

"I love you too." I whispered.

"I have to go, before people start arriving again. I'll see you at eight tonight?"  
>"Yeah. I'll try to come early if I can."<p>

"No, you rest and take it easy. I wasn't kidding when I said you need to relax. Now, I'll see you later." He kissed me one more time. "Love you."

"Love you too."

And after grabbing his violin case, he slid out the costume room door, vanishing like a ghost.

"Girl, you need a shopping trip, I think." Maggie said as we walked home together. "I mean, with all this stuff going on with Rich and Erik, I think you deserve one."

I looked up at the crosswalk sign as it signaled to let us walk, and I shook my head.

"I have enough clothing as is." I said tiredly, "I don't need anymore."

It had been an exhausting day in the theater, for everyone involved with _Night of the Stars_. I had planned on staying late after work, to get a head start on costumes, but decided against it after fighting a pounding headache. I just wanted to go home and take a short nap, as far as I was concerned.

"Oh come on, Chris. Live a little. When was the last time you bought a new dress?" She asked.

I shrugged. "I don't exactly know."  
>"Do you have your outfit yet for your act?"<br>"For Rich's I do, not for my own though."

"Great. Then this Saturday at ten, I'm coming by your house and we're walking into town to shop. We're getting you a nice, white dress; something you can wear that'll make you look like an angel. Erik will like that."  
>"Erik might not see me perform."<p>

She lifted her eyebrows at me. "Do you really think he would miss it? He'll find a way to watch you. He always does. Besides, this performance is big for him too. After all, he taught you to sing as well as you do."

"My Angel of Music." I murmured.

She grinned. "Yeah, your Angel."

At last we said our goodbyes, and I finally turned the corner to my house. After rummaging through my purse to dig out my keys I opened the door gratefully, and went to the bathroom cabinet for some Tylenol. Next after dry swallowing it, I walked into my room, set my alarm clock to go off at six fifteen, and laid down for an hour-long nap.

It was a deep, dreamless sleep, but it wasn't my alarm that woke me… it was my phone. It rang from my dresser top, and Cee Lo Green's _Forget You_ started blaring in my ears. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, before walking over to answer it.

"Hello?" I said, after flipping it open.

"Hi Chris."

I held back a groan, hearing Richard's voice. "Hi Rich. Why are you calling me?" I asked, getting to the point. I just wasn't in the mood to deal with formalities.

"I wanted to ask if I could come by, to talk to you before practice tonight."

"Why?"

"Well… I was hoping that maybe we could be friends again."

I sighed, and walked into the living room, automatically falling into my dad's old armchair. "What you've done to me is not okay." I said, "I still have the right to be pissed off at you."

"You lead me on."

"And I've apologized for that, Rich! What more do you want? I've done everything I could think of to try to make things as low drama as possible, and you're still—"

"Still what?" He cut in.

"Acting immature." I stated, "Acting like a complete asshole. You took pictures of a man's disfigured face, mocked him about it, and then threatened to put all those images out there! Punish me if you want to, make my life hell, but for God's sake why did you have to pull my boyfriend into this?"

"Yeah, like you would have actually sung with my group if I had asked nicely! Look Chris, I need this opportunity with Quinn Lockhart, and my band needs it too. Everyone in the group is a hardcore musician, and they should have a chance to get noticed."

"I get that."  
>"But you still would not have sung with my group if I had asked you."<p>

I rested my head on the back of the chair, feeling my headache sneaking back. "If you were in my position, and I had done to you what you did to me at the dance, would you have let me sing in the group? You embarrassed me that night. You were rude to…" I paused, stopping myself from giving Erik's identity, and then went on, "You were rude to Desmond, and you were inconsiderate of Maggie. That was her night to enjoy herself and enjoy being noticed, and you almost got into a fight and caused a scene. Thank God no one freaking noticed."

"I thought his name was Erik."

"It's Desmond to those not close to him, and to those he teaches. It's a last name of sorts." I lied, "But you hurt all of us that night, Rich. It was bad."

"So, we can't work things out, can we Chris?" He said quietly.

My mouth fell open. "Did you not hear what I said? Can't you just acknowledge any of that?"

"Answer my question, please."

I bit my lip, and thought for a few seconds. Then I made my move. "Delete the pictures of Erik now." I bargained, "Destroy them, and make it so that they are never discovered. If you have to get rid of the memory or SIMS card on your phone, I'll pay for a new one. Just get rid of those pictures. I'll be willing to try to work things out then." Inside I silently prayed, _Please, show for a moment that you're still the nice guy I know, Richard. Show that you have some humanity and pity._

I heard him draw in a quick breath, and then answer. "Dump him, and I'll do it."

"Then forget it." I said.

"I don't like how secretive he is, Chris! I don't like that you're dating someone who is a total nobody."  
>"You know nothing about him, and since you're no longer my friend, it no longer concerns you. I will still sing with you, and continue to go along with the deal we made yesterday, but after this I'm just going to ask you to leave me alone."<p>

"Okay then. Fine. Whatever you want."

"I don't want you calling me again. If you have a problem, call Maggie and you can talk to me through her."

"I tried to call Maggie yesterday and get her to talk to me today, but she wouldn't." Suddenly he gasped, as though he realized something. "She knows about Erik, doesn't she?"

"It's Desmond, and no, she has no clue."

"Chris, I can tell when you're lying. You're voice always gets harder when you're lying."

"Leave her out of this."

"How long did she know?"

"It's none of your business. I'll see you later, Rich." With that I flipped my phone shut, and walked into the kitchen to warm up a frozen pizza. From there I heard my phone ring a few times, but I didn't answer. At that moment I never wanted to hear or see Rich ever again, and if he didn't want me to murder him at our lesson tonight with Erik, he would have to leave me alone to blow off steam.

After eating and cleaning up the kitchen, it was around seven thirty, and time to leave for the theater. I grabbed my purse and walked out the door to my car. Even though I had cooled down a bit since talking to Rich, I still wasn't the happiest person on the planet.

When I got into the theater and made my way on stage, I found Erik tinkering with the grand piano, plucking out notes to _Broken_. He heard me enter from the audience seating, and seeing my face, quickly stood up to greet me.

"You look mad." He said, giving me a hug as I stepped into his embrace.

"Hi. Nice to see you too Erik." I snapped.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Let's try that again." He soothed. "Hello darling."

"Hi Erik."

"Better now?"

I nodded, and sighed tiredly. "I'm sorry Erik. I've had a rough evening."

"What happened? Does it have to do with Rich?"

I laughed bitterly. "Who else?"

"Care to talk about it?"  
>I shrugged, and we both sat down on the piano bench. "He called me about an hour ago." I said, "He wanted to try to make things up with me, and I tried to explain to him why I was avoiding him, and then he ran his mouth and I kind of blew up. In the end I hung up. He was just being so…" I pushed my hair back. "Forget it. If I talk about this now, I'm afraid I might seriously pounce on him when he gets here. Can we run through <em>Halo<em> before he shows up?"  
>"Sure. But… are you sure you're okay Chris?"<p>

I nodded. "I will be once I sing." I stood up. "Let's make this a warm up. I'm ready when you are."

We went through the song two times, and as Erik was giving me critique for the second run through, we heard the French doors slam shut in the lobby. In a matter of seconds Richard was entering the auditorium, and making his way on stage. In his hand he held his acoustic guitar, and sheet music in the other.

"Hello Richard." Erik said coolly, as I stepped to the front of the piano. "Are you ready to begin?"  
>"Yeah," Rich said, "of course."<p>

"You're ten minutes late." He noted, looking down at his watch. I smiled, seeing Erik sink into his Desmond teaching mode. How cool and confident he became when he morphed into an instructor.

"I'm sorry. I had a few things come up at home."

"You're excused. But time is very precious to me, and I don't like having mine wasted."

"Whatever you say, Desmond."

"Ah, you're calling me by my proper title. Thank you. Now, I want to get a feel for what your range is. Can you sing on bah and up the scales for me?"

"What does this have to do with the song? I know I can sing it."

"This has everything to do with the song. Sing on bah, please."

I watched as Richard began singing, and noticed right away that he the same problems I once had. Little breath support, no focus on the sound… but a great ear. I had to give him that.

After Erik was done hearing his range, he told him certain breathing exercises to do, and what placement his mouth should be to sing certain vowels. At last we started working on _Broken_, and that was when things became even more tense between Erik and Richard.

"Can you let me just get through this song?" Richard finally exploded, after Erik had stopped him for the sixth time to correct something. "Can we just go through it and then you can tell me what I did wrong?"

"I stop you so that these things don't become a habit." He explained.

"Well, you're stopping me more than you've been stopping Chris."  
>"Rich, you know that's not true. He's stopped me a few times." I protested, "And believe me, the fact that I've been taking lessons longer than you does make a difference."<br>"I want the song to go well." Erik stated, "I wouldn't be stopping you if that wasn't the case. I do want this to sound good."  
>"How am I supposed to know that's true? Why would you want me to do well?" Richard asked.<p>

"Because my girlfriend is performing with you." He answered, "That's why. This has nothing to do with you, Richard. You're singing with Chris, and if you're going to sing with her, you're going to sound damn good doing it. Now, let's start back at the second chorus, shall we?"

Stunned into silence Rich didn't say another word, and I tried my best to fight back a smile. Seeing him quiet like that was something I wasn't used to.

Finally nine o'clock rolled around, and it was time for our lessons to be over. Erik told Richard what he needed to work on, and then gave me pointers.

"Try to drink as much water as you can." He said, "And try to get at least eight hours of sleep at night while this stuff with _Night of the Stars_ is going on. Your body is an instrument; treat it well. Now, go on home. Have a good night, and I'll see you tomorrow at eight."

"Bye Rich." I said, moving closer to Erik, "See you tomorrow."

"Wait, aren't you walking out too?" He asked.

"I'll see her to her car." Erik said, "Good night, Richard."

Without another word Rich picked up his guitar from the top of the piano, and walked out of the theater. We waited until the sound of the front doors closing met our ears, before saying a word. When we did hear it, Erik finally relaxed and reached out to me. I took his hand, and he pulled me onto his lap on the piano bench.

"Is Richard usually that arrogant, or is today a special occasion?" He asked.

"I told you he's been like that recently." I sighed, leaning against his shoulder. "Try working with him for seven hours a day. That's been a blast too."

"Well then, you need stress relief, stat." He said, "Do you want to come back to my place for a while? I can make up some tea or something."

I thought about it, and nodded. "I have to be at work tomorrow, but it is only nine. Why not?"

"Are you sure that's okay?"

"Yeah. I just need to get up at eight. And even if I get to bed around midnight, that still gives me eight hours of sleep."

He smiled, and in a few minutes, I was downstairs in Erik's kitchen, watching him as he stood at his microwave waiting for the tea to be done. I noticed he looked a little bit tired, and I got out of my chair to give him a hug from behind.

"Hey," I said, "when your days are crappy, you can talk to me too." I placed my cheek against his back, hearing the soothing sound of his breathing.

"I'm all right. I've just been stressed, that's all. You have to realize I didn't have this kind of excitement before I knew you."

"I guess I'm just an exciting girl." I chuckled.

"Yes, you are." It was then the microwave went off, and he took the mugs out. I sat back down in my seat as he placed the two teabags into the hot water to seep. Then he carried both of them back to the table, and handed one to me.

"Thanks."

"Anytime, Christine."

"So, I had a few thoughts about what we should do after _Night of the Stars_." I began.

"What do you mean?" He said, "Aren't you going to the after party?"

I shook my head. "No, I don't think so Erik. I don't want there to be any drama, and the less time I spend with Richard, the better. But, anyway, I was thinking that we could come back to my place, and watch a movie or something. Make it our own private celebration. I could even cook up a few midnight delicacies."

"Chris, you should go to the party, and enjoy the attention. After your performance, you'll be the star of the theater. And besides, Maggie will want you there."

"You're right, she does. But I don't want to go if you can't. And I'm not going to ask you to go to another after party."

"Forget about me for a moment. Do you want to go to the party, or not?"  
>"I personally don't care about it either way. But you helped me become the singer I am now, and whatever I do for a celebration, you should be a part of it too."<p>

"You performing on the stage that night has little to do with me. You will have gotten there using your own will and talent. Go to the party, and have fun with your friends. Enjoy being with Maggie and Jamie. I want you to get the recognition you deserve."

"I won't feel right if you're not there, and I don't expect you to go. It'd just be easier if I was simply with you that night, relaxing by ourselves."

"And I wouldn't feel right if you were with me, and weren't celebrating with your friends and receiving everyone's compliments. Chris, please go. I want you to do this for you."

"But Erik…"

"No. Go."

I looked down at my mug, and nodded, knowing that between him and Maggie I wasn't going to win this fight. "I'll go then. But know that in my heart, you also deserve this triumph."

He stood from his chair, and pushed his hair back exhaustedly. His back was turned toward me, and he hunched up his shoulders and buried his hands in his pockets.

"I was never ashamed with how I lived." He said, "Never. But now that I know you, and am a part of your life, I am."

I got up from where I was sitting, and crossed over to him. "Erik…" I whispered, putting a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off.

"No. This isn't okay. I don't want to hold you back in life. I taught you to sing to give you wings. Not to keep you grounded. I don't think this is going to work anymore, Christine."

I felt all the color drain from my face, and tears began to swell in my eyes. "Erik, what are you saying? What's not going to work?"

I heard him take a deep breath. "What I'm saying is that I want you to go. I want you to go back to your world without me, and fly. I want you to forget me, and find someone who can give you everything you deserve. Someone who can stand beside you during your career, and be able to kiss you in the sunlight. Find someone better. Tell Richard that you aren't with me anymore. Tell him that you are done with me, and never want to see me again. That our lessons are over. Now, go!"

"No." I stated, "No. I love you, Erik. I won't give up on someone who I know is _my_ best. I can't walk away."

"You need to Chris!" He yelled, turning around, "For your sake, you need to! I want you to go, and sing, and live a normal life with someone! A better life! Now GO!"

His voice echoed all around the kitchen, and I felt as if his command had cut through me. He had never yelled at me before. In fact, I had never heard him yell period. I began shaking, and I could no longer hold back my tears.

"Please, don't do this!" I begged, "Erik!"

"Chris, go now! Go and share what I have taught you! Share your gift, and live a full life! Go and sing!" He advanced toward me. "Go and sing!"

"Erik!"

"LEAVE ME CHRISTINE! NEVER SEE ME AGAIN! LEAVE!"

And finally, with sobs pouring out of me, I grabbed my purse and ran out of his underground room. I didn't stop running until I was out in the parking lot, and opening the front door of my car to collapse into the driver's seat. And as soon as the door was closed, I only cried harder, until my voice was almost shot from sobbing.

At last, when it was around eleven o'clock, I was calm enough to drive home. The rest of the night is a blur to me from here on out. The only thing I remember is getting a quick shower, then collapsing onto my bed, crying once more. Then as I choke on a half sob, I close my eyes, and fall into the cold darkness that is the world of sleep.

My alarm clock gave me a rude awakening the next morning, making my head pound and forcing me to confront the day. For twenty minutes I simply laid in bed, with a pillow held close to my chest, thinking over what had happened last night, praying it was all a nightmare. But my raw throat and aching heart told me no, it had been real, and I had to get up and go to work and deal with it.

And I simply couldn't.

I grabbed my cell phone, and dialed the theater office's number. In two rings, I heard Mrs. Gardens answer.

"Hello?"  
>"Hi Mrs. Gardens." I greeted, forcing myself to be pulled together.<p>

"Oh my Chris, is that you? You sound like you've come down with something." She said.

"I have Mrs. Gardens." I lied, "My throat is just killing me today. I know it's close to _Night of the Stars_, but I just don't know if I can make it into work today."

"I wouldn't expect you to. I don't want you getting anyone sick. I know you're ahead on what you need to do, so I'll just tell Richard that you can't make it to practice today, all right?"

"Thank you Mrs. Gardens. Actually, can you relay a message to him for me?"

"Yes, of course."  
>"Could you tell him that we don't need to practice after work anymore? I've got our song down, and we don't need anymore extra critique. He'll know what I mean."<p>

"Okay. You just get better."

"I'll try. Bye Mrs. Gardens."  
>"Bye Chris."<p>

With that I hung up the phone, and curled up on the bed. As soon as I did, I burst into tears, and I simply let myself cry.

For the rest of the day I stayed in sweats, and only ventured out of my room to eat and use the bathroom. At times I fingered the heart pendant around my neck from Erik, considering locking it up in one of my music boxes and never opening it again. But the chain felt heavy against my chest, and I knew it belonged with me. If Erik wanted it back, he could gather the courage and tell me. He could force himself to face me, just like I would be forced to face the memories of us when I went back to the theater.

I considered dropping out of the show, but I knew I couldn't bring myself to do it. I had worked hard to be in the last spot, and I wanted to at least have the pleasure of knowing I beat out Candice. And Maggie would be disappointed too. No, I wasn't going to be defeated. Even though I felt like I was dying inside, I wasn't going to simply lie down and give up what I had been fighting for.

I finally gathered my strength and sat down at the computer to send an email to my dad. It had been a few days since I had sent anything to him, after all, and now I had some time to do it. I told him everything was fine, and that I had gotten in the talent show. I wrote down lie after lie, not letting him know how broken I was inside. Yet a part of me wanted to tell him to come back home, so he could tell me it was going to be all right, to hold me and say that guys were idiots. But in the end I simply sent my email, faking happiness in words.

I laid back down in my bed, and allowed myself to cry some more. I wished that Erik had said he didn't love me. If he didn't love me, I could try to not love him, I could try to blame my pain on him. I could say he was a jerk, a useless womanizer, to have lead me on. But he never said he didn't love me. He had said he couldn't have me in his life anymore. That made me only feel worse and more confused than ever.

I drug myself out of bed, and into the living room, to fall on the couch. The light from the window hit my face, and warmed it. I didn't want to feel sunlight, I didn't want to feel anything ever again, but I felt too weak to close the window.

I closed my eyes, and again, sleep met me. I guess I slept about four hours, for when I woke up, it was because someone was shaking me awake.

"Chris, are you okay?"

I opened my eyes to see who the voice belonged to, and was surprised to see Maggie by my side, wearing black sweats and pink tank top. Her hair was pulled back and she was slightly sweaty, which made me realize she had just gotten out of the theater.

"How did you get into my house, Mags?" I asked tiredly.

"Your front door was unlocked. I came by to check on you." She gave me once of her once over glares and let out a gasp. "Oh God, Chris you look terrible. What happened to you?"

When those words came out of her mouth, I couldn't help it. I burst into tears, and fell into her arms. She hugged me, and began to rub my back.

"Oh Chris, Chris, Chris." She cooed, "What's wrong? Please tell me what's wrong."

I sniffled, and backed away to wipe away the tears on my face. "Erik broke up with me, Mags."

She froze, and her eyes widened. "He did _what_?" She breathed.

"He broke up with me. He said he wanted me to find someone better than him…" It was then I told her the whole story, sometimes breaking down into sobs while explaining things. By the time I was done, which considering the moments I burst into tears, almost an hour had passed. Patiently Maggie had comforted and let me get my story out, before saying anything.

"I'm going to see him tonight." She said seriously, "And I'm either going to talk sense into that boy, or kill him."

"Maggie, please, don't cause any trouble." I groaned.

"Chris, he began this as soon as he told you to leave." She stood, and smoothed out her sweats. "You don't worry about what I'm going to do, all right? Just leave this to me."

She turned toward the front door, and I let out a groan. "You're not going over there now, are you?"

She gave me a grin. "Maybe, maybe not."

And before I could say another word, she bolted out the front door, leaving me alone in my house with a broken heart and sick stomach.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two: Alone in the Dark

_Erik's Diary: July 17__th_

_ Chris is gone now, out of my life, forever. I have forced her to leave me, after a few days of contemplating our future together. I realized that her being with someone like me… it wouldn't be good for her. I'm not good for her. She needs to be in the world above, performing for an audience, not down here with a reclusive musician. I told her to leave a day and a half ago, and while I know it is for the best, I have done nothing but ache and lie on the floor of my music room, fighting back the pain. Now that she is gone I feel like I have nothing, that I am some empty vessel. Love is such a cruel thing. To know that you need someone, yet not having them, is a fate worse than death itself. The music that once flourished in my head is gone… there is only silence. So now, I can't even go to that for comfort._

_ What the… someone is now pounding on the secret door that leads down here. It's probably Chris, now discovering that I disconnected the mechanism that makes the door move. I have to keep her away from myself if she can't do it. It might be somewhat cruel, but it has to be done. _

_ Wait, now there's yelling. Oh God. It's not Chris. It's Maggie, and clearly, she's not happy. I can only understand a few of her words as she screams at me. So far the only message I'm getting is that Chris has been crying all day and that I better let Maggie down here or… oh wow. I didn't know she could be so vulgar. It may not be a good idea to write down all of what she's saying. _

_ I'm moving to my bedroom now, hoping to drown Mags out. But the damage has all ready been done… I'm thinking about nothing but Chris being hurt. I now see her in my mind, lying on her bed, sobbing. Her beautiful hair is sprawled across on the pillow, and her cheeks are red. _

_ Dear God, I can't do this. I can't live like this for the next days, weeks, months it will take for the pain to be numb. And if Maggie or Chris plans to pound at my door, and beg to see me every single one of those days… no. I have to save Chris from myself. I can't let her be with me. Ever. _

_ I know what I must do._

_ Chris, I'm sure sooner or later you will find this book. You will read what I have written, and will understand why I did what I did. I want you to know that none of this is your fault. I'm doing this because I can't stand the thought of me dragging you down. These next events are going to happen because of my own hand, not yours. And my darling, I know that I didn't tell you this the other night, but I love you. I do love you, with all my heart and being. I love you with the same passion that Romeo had for Juliet. Except in this story, my Juliet will not perish with her Romeo. Our music must be shared, and the legacy must go on. When I am gone, keep my art alive. My plays and music (written and unwritten) I trust to you, Maggie, and Mr. and Mrs. Gardens. The money that comes out of them, donate to the Kynaston Foundation, a charity fund that my aunt set up in honor of my mother and father. With the money I all ready have now in my accounts, Maggie and Chris, use it to get through college. It should be enough to help out, at least. _

_ Chris, again, I love you. I'm sorry about all of this. I'm sorry that I wasn't strong enough to be by your side. I'm sorry that I have to do this…_

_ My dear, you are my Angel of Music, and always will be. I'll be watching over you. I love you, my muse, my songstress._

_ Maggie, Mr. and Mrs. Gardens… I love all of you. May you and God forgive me for this someday. _

_Forever, you will be in my heart._

_~Your Erik_


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty-Three: Redemption

I sat in the kitchen, nibbling at a sandwich, as I waited for Maggie to call me back. My phone was not even three feet away, and I stole occasional glances at it, praying it would ring with news. I had some hope that maybe Erik might change his mind, but I wasn't sure what his reaction would be to Maggie coming over to talk to him. I simply forced myself to eat some solid food, while wishing that things would be okay again.

Suddenly my cell rang, and I literally jumped across the table to get at it. It stumbled in my hands for a few moments before I was able to flip it open.

"Hello?" I said.

"Hey Chris." Maggie greeted, "How you holding up?"

"I'm still alive. What's the news on Erik?" I asked.

She sighed, and I felt my hope deflate. "I'm sorry girl. I couldn't get to the underground rooms. I tried pressing the wall button thing to get in, but nothing happened. I think he disabled the secret door. I pounded on the walls for a while, yelling at him to let me in, but no dice."

I tried to hold back tears. "You did your best, Mags."

"Hey, I'm not done trying yet!" She cried, "I'm going to go to the theater early tomorrow morning, and to try again. This time I want you to come with me."

"If I'm with you he won't let us in."

"We have to try everything at this point. It's worth a shot. I plan to be up there by seven. Do you think two hours is enough time to talk some sense into him? I know we need to get there early, before people start arriving…"

"This won't work."

"Chris, do you have a better idea? If not, I'll be at your house by six fifty, so we can drive there."

I was silent for a few seconds, realizing she did have a point. We had no other options left. "I can be ready by six fifty." I whispered, "In fact, do you want to spend the night at my place?"

"Yeah." She said, "That would be easier than me walking there before the crack of dawn. I'll just tell my mom you need a sick nurse."

"How soon can you be over?"

"An hour, maybe earlier. I'll be over as soon as possible. Just let me talk to my mom. I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay. Bye Mags."

"Bye Chris. Stay strong."

With that I hung up my phone, and walked into my room to tidy up my bed and make the house at least looked picked up.

Maggie was true to her word, knocking on my door about forty minutes later. By this time I had gotten a shower and changed into black pajama bottoms and a tank top. I felt somewhat better, and I attempted to smile when I opened the door to let Mags in.

She was in jeans and a white shirt, with her ballet duffle bag thrown over her shoulder and a pint of chocolate ice cream under one of her arms. It was now eight o'clock, and even though I had just had supper, some comfort food looked good to me at that point.

Without saying a word she gave me a hug, and dropped her duffle bag beside the couch. I had placed a blanket and pillows there so she could have her own bed. I gulped, realizing the last time I had done that was for Erik.

"Hey gorgeous." She said, lifting the ice cream, "Let's grab some spoons so we can dig into this thing."

I nodded, and walked into the kitchen to get two bowls and spoons. When I came out she all ready had the ice cream open, and we began to dish ourselves out some chocolaty goodness.

"Why does ice cream always make things somewhat better?" I asked.

Maggie laughed, shoving a spoonful into her mouth. "I don't know. It just does."

I giggled a bit (well, at least I attempted to). But it was no use. I couldn't even try to be all right for a moment. I just felt so utterly broken. "I miss him, Maggie." I finally confessed, "It's only been one day, but my God, I miss him. I could barely sleep last night, and forcing myself to get up this morning to do those little things, was like torture."

"I know." She soothed, "I know that you're hurting right now, and it sucks. I hate the fact that you're in pain like this. But we're going to try to fix this. Don't give up yet. Think of how Erik feels. He must really miss you, Chris."

I looked down. "Love doesn't walk away." I murmured, remembering that I had told him that only days before.

"Not you guys' love." Maggie said, "I can see that you two are the real deal. In fact, I know you are. I'm always skeptical about most people our age saying that love someone, but this is different. If you two can make it past this stage right now, you can make it through anything."

I nodded, and ate my ice cream in silence, trying to soak in her words. I prayed she was right. If she wasn't, I didn't know what I was going to do.

Maggie fell asleep on the couch by ten, but I stayed in my bedroom, tossing and turning. A few times I reached up and clutched the heart pendant around my neck, trying to find some comfort in it. I remembered how we had kissed after he had given it to me, and I got lost in that memory. I ended up falling asleep with that picture in my head, of him on me, pressing my hands into the carpet above my head, and kissing me mad.

"Hey girl, you forgot to set your alarm clock."

The next morning Maggie's words pulled me from my world of dreamless sleep, and I gave an exasperated sigh.

"What time is it?" I asked tiredly.

"Five after six." She said, "Don't worry, I set the alarm on my cellphone. I really don't expect you to be able to remember much right now."

I patted her arm thankfully, and as she left to change in the bathroom, I found a pair of jeans, blue sparkly t-shirt, and white flip-flops. I slipped those things on, and then pulled my hair back. That was the best I could do at the moment, and as Maggie came out of the bathroom with her cropped purple sweats and gray tank (looking more put together than me), I felt ashamed that I couldn't bring myself to put on any makeup.

"How you feeling this morning?" She asked, stuffing last night's change of clothes into her duffle bag.

"I'm okay." I replied, "I'm just tired and achy. Kind of nervous too."

"That's to be expected. Do you want me to make up some eggs for breakfast?"

"I'll just take an apple. Really Mags, I just can't bring myself to eat much right now. But please, help yourself."

"If that's okay with you."

"It's fine."

In less than five minutes she was frying an egg in the kitchen, while I dined on my apple at the table. I had poured some orange juice for both of us, and in only a few minutes, she sat next to me with her egg and some toast, ready to eat.

"We'll talk some sense into that boy, Chris." She reassured, "I have a gut feeling we will today. I know Erik is stubborn, but I think we can break through to him."

"Thanks for doing this for me, Mags." I said, "I couldn't talk to him by myself."

"Hey, what else are friends for?"

About thirty minutes later I had locked my front door, and Maggie and I were getting into my car to head to the theater. I didn't turn on the radio like I usually did, knowing that any type of music would make me think of Erik and break down. I couldn't afford to right now. I had to be strong for him, like he had been strong for me.

Moments later we were at the theater. The sun was now rising, and everything was reasonably lit. As we walked to the lobby entrance Maggie pulled out a key from her sweat pants pocket, and put it into the keyhole.

"The doors automatically lock between midnight and eight." She explained, "This is one of a few keys that can be used to get in."

She turned the key, and the doors opened with a satisfying click. At last, after turning on some lights from the light and sound booth, we were making our way backstage, to where the secret door was.

"Are you ready to do this?" She asked, as I stood in front of the paneling that pushed in to open the door.

"As ready as I'll ever be." I said. And then I pushed the wall button, hoping the doors would open. Of course, they didn't, so Maggie quickly referred to plan B.

She began pounding loudly on the door, yelling to hopefully get Erik's attention.

"Erik!" She cried, "Erik, I have Chris with me! We've been up since six, wanting to talk to you! So come on and open the door! You at least owe Chris an explanation! Come on!"

We waited a few seconds, but heard nothing. Suddenly a sick feeling came over me, and I knew, something wasn't quite right. As Maggie started pounding on the walls again, I pushed her aside, and put my ear against the hallow wall. Everything was silent. There wasn't the sound of music, him moving, or anything. Just still, cold silence.

"Something's wrong Mags." I said, "It's like there's no one in there. I mean… everything's so quiet." I couldn't help it; I began to feel somewhat panicked. "We need to get in there." I stated, "God, something just doesn't feel right!"

She nodded, and ran off toward the tool cabinet backstage. Before I could yell for her to come back, she held two hammers in her hands. My eyes widened.

"Mags, what are you doing?" I asked. To answer me, she hit the hallow wall as hard as she could with the hammer, and I let out a cry of shock. "MAGS!"

"Hey, if you think something is wrong, you're probably right." She said, handing me a hammer, "You know him better than anyone else right now. So come on and help me if you want to get to him."

I nodded, and as crazy as it sounds, we started breaking down the wall. To my relief the old wood wasn't as strong as we thought, and in about fifteen minutes, we had created a hole big enough for both of us to crawl through. Without hesitation, we did.

The inside tunnel was pitch black, and we had to carefully climb down the stairs so that we didn't fall and break our necks. The whole time Maggie and I held onto each other's arm, and I could feel my worry grow more and more with each step. Finally, when we got to the rooms, we were relieved to see that the lights in the kitchen, music room, and bedroom were on, making things somewhat clear to see.

"Erik!" I called out, "Erik, are you here? Where are you?"

"Erik" Maggie echoed, "Come on, just come out! Stop worrying Chris and I!"

We began to venture down the hall, and as we came to a room, we'd peek inside and try to find him. Our first room we checked was the bedroom. He wasn't in there and his bed was still neatly made. We tried the kitchen and music room next. Again, no dice. There was only one more room to try.

"He must be in the bathroom." I said, turning the corner toward the closed door. "Mags, come on!"

When she was by my side I gripped the knob, and opened the door. Nothing in the world could have prepared me for what I saw next, and I actually had to stop myself from getting sick when I took in everything.

"Oh my God," Maggie gasped, over and over again, "Oh my God, oh my God…"

Lying on the white tile was Erik, wearing black jeans and a white long sleeved shirt. The sleeves were rolled up on both of his arms, which made the blood that was caked on his skin more visible. Two gashes ran across both wrists, and a few inches away from his right hand, was a bloodied knife. Underneath him was, literally, a small pool of blood. His mask was off, and I could see that his face was white as sheet. Seeing the knife and cuts… well, it didn't take me long to put two and two together.

It was then I let out a scream.

"Erik!" I yelled, pushing past Maggie in the doorway to kneel next to him. "Erik, no!" I touched his forehead, feeling that his skin was cool. I felt all the color drain from my face. "Oh, God, Erik…" I muttered, "No… don't be dead. Please, don't be dead."

I leaned down to his mouth, trying to see if I could feel him breathing. As I did that, I felt his neck for a pulse. In those few seconds of unknowing, I begged God to let me keep Erik. I even bargained that if he let me have Erik, he could take away my voice and musical ability. I would give him anything; if he only let the man I loved live.

And then, I felt a faint pulse beneath my fingertips, and could hear Erik's slow, occasional breathing. I burst into tears then. He was alive. We still had a fight on our hands, but Erik was alive.

"He's alive!" I said, "Maggie, he's breathing!"

But I glanced over to see that Maggie had whipped out her phone, and was dialing a number into it. "Chris, you said this had happened before, right?" She asked, trying to keep calm.

"Yeah," I answered, "Your Mom…"  
>"I'm calling her." She said, "Now."<p>

Before I could reply she had her ear to the phone, and seconds later was talking.

"Mom, you need to get to the theater now." She said right away, "Erik slit his wrists." There was a few seconds of silence, and Maggie continued. "Don't ask me how I know about Erik, Mom! Just get down here! You're getting Dad too? Okay, I'm staying on the phone. Yes, Chris is with me. No, Erik's not conscious, but he's breathing. Right, I'll tell her." She looked at me. "Mom says don't move him, and if he's not bleeding now, don't touch his cuts. Dad's getting a hold of our private doctor who's dealt with Erik before, and that they'll be here soon." She went back to talking on the phone. "By the way, we had to break into the underground rooms. He disconnected the secret panel… why? He tried to breakup with Chris and…"

I tuned out as he was explaining what had happened to Mrs. Gardens, and I looked down at Erik's face. I stroked his hair back, and whispered to him, "It'll be okay Erik. We're going to make everything all right again. I won't leave you. I love you. It will all be okay."

I don't know how long we waited, but it seemed like forever until Maggie and I heard Mr. and Mrs. Gardens run down the hallway. Maggie had put her phone away as soon as they arrived at the theater, and I was relieved when I finally saw them. Mrs. Gardens was in jeans with a red and black shirt, and Mr. Gardens was in sweats with a white tee. In his hands, Mr. Garden had a blanket and a case of medical supplies, and a few white bandages. Gazing at them, I saw that while both of them tried to remain calm, I could tell by the look in their eyes that seeing Erik like this scared them.

"Get back Chris." Mr. Gardens ordered, moving next to me to look at Erik's wrists. I stood up and walked over to Maggie and Mrs. Gardens, as he began to bandage up Erik's wounds. "This is only temporary, until we can get him back to our house. Dr. Marcel is over there now, setting up a place for Erik in his old room."

"Who's Dr. Marcel?" I asked.

"He's helped us out with Erik before." Mrs. Gardens said, "He took care of Erik in our house the last time he did something like this, and when we first found Erik, he gave him a physical. He's the only other person, other than whose here now, who knows about Erik."

"You guys get Erik to our house." Maggie said, "I can stay here and fix the hole in the wall. I saw a piece of plywood that would fit over it perfectly."

"Okay." Mrs. Gardens said, "But I'm not opening the theater today. I'll leave a note outside, saying that I'm sick or something."  
>"But what about <em>Night of the Stars<em> practice…" I began.

"No. Everyone's doing fine right now. We can afford to skip a day of rehearsal. And besides, we don't have much of a choice." She admitted, "Erik's going to need me in the next twenty-four hours, and he'll need you too."

I nodded. "Do you mind if I stay with you, then?"

She squeezed my shoulder. "Of course not. In fact, while Erik's getting better, I want you to stay."

"Okay, he's ready to be moved now." Mr. Gardens said, "Amy, grab the stretcher in the hallway, please."

In a flash Mrs. Gardens ran into the hallway, and came back with a brown, wooden stretcher. Like medical experts themselves, Mr. and Mrs. Gardens carefully slid him on it, and then grabbed the wooden handles at the end to carry him out.

"Maggie, Chris, you'll have to help us when we get to the hole." Mr. Gardens said, "We'll have to place the stretcher on the floor to push him through."

"I can do that." I said.

In a few seconds we were walking hurriedly down the hallway, and soon pushing the stretcher through the hole. Luckily enough it managed to fit, and before I could gather my thoughts, we were rushing to the back of the theater, trying to get Erik into Mr. and Mrs. Gardens' car without being seen.

"I'll take Maggie and I to your house." I said to Mrs. Gardens, "I'll see you there in a few minutes."

She nodded, and with that, we ran to my car. Here, the next whirlwind of events occurred, and everything happened so fast I could barely remember it all.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter Thirty-Four: Bring me to Life

Soon we arrived at Maggie's house, and I saw that Mr. and Mrs. Gardens had gotten there and unloaded Erik from their car all ready. We bolted into the house, almost forgetting to shut the car off, and looked around for Mr. and Mrs. Gardens.

"Kids, we're down here!" They yelled from the basement. I followed Maggie to the stairs that would take us there, and we turned the corner to walk down a hall. Three rooms were there, but only one had a door and a light on, filled with the sounds of bustling activity. We guessed that's where Erik was, and entered.

It was a room, with orange painted walls with white stripes. A king sized bed, with brown covers, was pushed into the far left hand wall. I could see a chest of drawers, a desk, a keyboard, and a small bookshelf of music outlining the opposite walls. Suddenly, it hit me that this was the room Erik had stayed in when Mr. and Mrs. Gardens had first found him as a child. I found it ironic, that this was the place where he was given a new life, and now we were fighting back death in here.

I looked back at the bed, for there tucked underneath the covers, was Erik. He had his shirt off, and an older man with white hair and clear blue eyes was sitting next to him, carefully unwrapping the bandages Mr. Gardens has put on his slashed wrists. Next to the man was a woman, in her late forties, with brown curly hair pulled back in a ponytail, and green eyes. She wore pink scrubs, while the older man wore khakis with a gray button down shirt. It didn't take me long to realize that the woman was a nurse, and the man had to be Dr. Marcel.

As Dr. Marcel worked on the bandages, the nurse was preparing an IV next to Erik's bed. In the IV, was a dark red liquid, which I knew was blood. I continued looking, suddenly realizing that there was actually a heart rate monitor in the room too. They had pretty much set up the place as a mini-hospital, all for the sake of keeping Erik's existence a secret. Or, maybe they just didn't know enough about him to do anything else. After all, he was an invisible person, without any records or background. How were they supposed to fill out a hospital form if they couldn't even get his parents' last name?  
>In the nearby corner Mr. and Mrs. Gardens were watching, and making plans. It was almost eight-thirty by now. People would be arriving soon at the theater. They had to get the hole covered up in the wall, and let everyone know that the theater would be closed.<p>

"I have to go to work today." I heard Mrs. Gardens finally say, "I can't suddenly turn around and close the theater, just like that."

"No." Mr. Gardens stated, "I know you're worried about Erik. You should stay here, and keep an eye on him. You shouldn't have to sacrifice that for the sake of the theater."

"You know I have to Nathan. I can't cancel practice on short notice. And we do have work to do… besides; I know you or Dr. Marcel will call me if anything comes up. Maybe Chris and Maggie could even stay. It's been a rough morning for them."

"No." I said, somewhat surprised at how stern my voice was, "I have two acts and costuming to do. If you are going to work, so am I."

"Yeah, me too." Piped Maggie, "The show must go on, Mom. You taught me that."

"We're fine."

"Chris," Mr. Gardens sighed, "you have blood on your shirt, and you're shaking. You're not fine. And I know you want to be with Erik."

I looked down, and to my horror, realized he was right. Blood did cover my chest and stomach, and I was feeling a bit off balance. And I did want to be with Erik. More than anything, I wanted to be with him. But Erik would not want me sacrificing my duties, either.

"Let me go until lunch." I offered, "Then when lunch break rolls around, I'll come back here."

"No." Mrs. Gardens said, "Chris, Maggie, as your director I am flat out telling you that, for today, you are forbidden on stage or anywhere near the theater. You are to stay here, and at least, try to relax."

"I can't relax Mrs. Gardens!" I cried, the stress finally getting to me, "I… I just saw my boyfriend lying half dead on a bathroom floor… I haven't been sleeping or eating since he broke up with me… I'm so scared even right now!" I burst into tears, and Maggie wrapped her arms around me in an embrace.

Suddenly, a voice beside Erik spoke up. "Young lady, I hate to interrupt, but maybe I can give you some information to calm you down."

I looked up from my best friend's shoulder to see Dr. Marcel gazing kindly at me. His voice was deep and soothing from years of practicing good bedside manner.

"What can you tell me?" I asked.

"I can tell you that Erik will live." He replied, "He will be weak, and he will be going through a lot of emotions when he wakes up, but he will be all right. We're pumping some O positive into him now, and some fluids, so he'll be okay."

"Oh my God," I sighed, relief washing over me, "Thank you. I know that he'll be emotional and it'll be hard… but thank you, for at least telling me he'll live."

"You're welcome. Now, if you don't mind me asking, who are you?"

I gave a small smile. "I'm Christine Davis." I said, "And I'm Erik's girlfriend."

"Well, I'm Dr. Marcel." He smiled too. "And I'm Erik's doctor."

Things finally began to slow down in the next two hours. Mr. and Mrs. Gardens left together to go the theater, so Mrs. Gardens could attend to her job, and Mr. Gardens could gather some clothes for Erik and board up the hole in the wall with plywood. Mrs. Gardens would tell everyone it had been an accident involving a set, and if she needed to explain why Maggie and I were gone, I was still sick and she had caught what I had.

I stayed in Erik's room, leaving only to change into a shirt of Maggie's. But other than that I planted myself in a chair next to him, occasionally stroking his hair and touching his hand with my fingertips. He had so many machines hooked up to him, I was afraid of disrupting whatever treatment Dr. Marcel was doing.

I watched the doctor as he stitched up Erik's wounds, and administered different drugs to him through his IV. I wanted to be involved with everything that was happening to make Erik better. Even when the nurse (whose name I learned was Katie) was simply changing Erik out of his bloodied shirt to a clean blue pajama one, I actually said I wanted to button the buttons for her.

"Let her." Dr. Marcel said, "We may have a nurse in training here."

I was fascinated by how he seemed to be so light hearted, even with such a tragic patient in his care. But then I realized, if you don't smile during a time of pain, you'll cry. And Erik didn't need anyone crying for him. He needed people helping him get better.

When Dr. Marcel and Katie weren't checking his bandages or vitals, I would sing to him. I practiced my two songs for _Night of the Stars_ and actually critiqued myself so he could hear me. When I got bored with that, I sang anything that came to my head. Or I just told him I loved him, and that it would be okay.

"He's not a coma patient." Dr. Marcel finally said as we ate lunch right across from each other, "You don't have to talk to him all the time."

"They're in love." Maggie said, speaking up from her place on the floor, "He'd want to hear her voice."  
>"Well, then tell me something really quick Chris." He said, "I swear, I thought you said he broke up with you earlier. How are you still…?"<p>

"It's a long story, Dr. Marcel." I said.

"Well, we're both here, and have time to kill."

So I told him how Erik had found me singing, and wanted to give me lessons. I told him how we accidentally fell in love, and started dating (I left out the part about him explaining who he was). And finally I explained how he had parted with me, because he thought I was being held back.

"I know it's really weird." I said, "But he loves me, and I love him. I have not slept well or been okay in the past two days. For some odd reason, my heart chose him to be with, and I can't talk myself out of this. And believe me, I have tried…"

"And tried, and tried, and tried." Maggie teased.

"I understand." Dr. Marcel said, "Love is the most illogical thing in the world. You cannot talk yourself out of what you never talked yourself into." But he put a hand on my arm and said seriously, "Yet, you must be serious about this man, Chris. He needs help. He needs medication, therapy… he needs someone to be strong for him, and he needs a reason to get help in the first place. I know that you are aware that he has hurt himself before, but this time, you're involved, and it changes things a bit."

"Dr. Marcel," I whispered, "I didn't leave when he yelled at me, and said he wanted me to go. I'm not walking out on him. Period." And that was the last time it was ever discussed.

It was then that Mr. Gardens came back, and started telling us what he had done at the theater. He had apparently grabbed a sack full of Erik's clothes, cleaned up the blood, boarded up the wall, and gathered a few of his things. After taking care of a few of Erik's possessions and putting some of his clothes in the chest of drawers, Mr. Gardens handed me the final thing he had kept in his hands: a black, leather bound book.

"Chris, this is a journal that we gave Erik after he moved into the theater." He said, "It was lying face up on his kitchen table… with a note that said he wanted you to read it."

I held the book in my hands gently, running my finger up and down the front cover. "I can't." I said, "These are his thoughts, his memories."

"Go to his last entry." Maggie suggested, "It might explain why he did this." I looked and Dr. Marcel and Mr. Gardens, and they both nodded. I glanced back down at the book, and finally, forced myself to turn the pages to his last writing.

I read it through in silence, everyone in the room watching me, and I broke down in tears when I was done. I had no idea that he had been in such pain… that he had tried to kill himself to save me. And then when he said he had always loved me… I totally lost all control. For a while no one asked me anything, and just let me cry. But finally Dr. Marcel spoke.

"May I see it, child?" He asked.

Alarm bells started going off in my head, knowing that he had mentioned his family in his entry. I had to protect his identity. I promised I would.  
>"I… don't feel comfortable with that." I said carefully, "He asked me to see his diary, no one else. Maybe we should wait, and not do anything that would upset him too much. And then he can explain it."<br>"Can you give us a hint at why then?" Mr. Gardens said, "Can you do that much?"

I nodded. "It was me," I confessed, "he tried to kill himself, to save me."

"Christine… is that my Christine's voice?"

We all froze, and turned toward the direction of the person speaking. There, we saw Erik's eyes open, as he lied feebly in bed.

"Erik," I gasped quietly, standing up with everyone else, "Erik?"

He turned his head toward me, and his eyes widened at seeing me. Then he looked down at the IV connected to his arm, and the stitches on his wrist.

"Oh, Christine…" he said, "Please say you didn't find me. Please."  
>"I didn't find you, Erik." I lied, "I didn't know until…"<br>"You're lying." He stated, "I can always tell when you lie." I looked down, and for a few seconds there was silence. Then, suddenly, he burst into sobs.

"Damn it!" He yelled, "Damn it!"

My heart broke then, and I pushed past Katie and Dr. Marcel, to wrap my arms around Erik and pull his head to my chest.

"I'm sorry, Christine." He cried, "I'm sorry, my love. I'm sorry."

"Don't leave me again." I begged, "Just don't leave me. I need you."

"You still wish to be with me, after I have done such a horrifying…"  
>"Erik, shut up. You're stuck with me, so stop talking." I stroked his hair and wiped the tears from his face. "We'll get help, okay? We can maybe get therapy and I'll be with you…"<br>"Christine, I'll do anything to get better." He promised, "I'll do whatever it takes so that we don't have to go through this again. I love you. I love you."

"I love you too." I said.

"Oh, my Christine."

"Erik, really, I'm happy you found a lovely girl." Dr. Marcel said, "But you're about to pull your IV out of your arm, and that is making me quite nervous."  
>Erik looked over at the doctor, and lay back down, brushing away the rest of the tears. "Hello, Dr. Marcel." He said, regaining his composure.<p>

"Hi Erik. Do you mind if I check your vitals?"

"Since you probably saved my life, yes."

I watched as the doctor approached him, and looked at his machines. I simply stepped back, and collapsed back in my chair. Erik was going to be all right. He was officially back with me again. All was okay in the world. For the first time in the past forty-eight hours, I actually wanted to eat and sleep again.

"Christine, we must continue our lessons." He said later, as Dr. Marcel was detaching the heart rate monitor from him. We were now the only three in the room, with Maggie upstairs taking a nap, and Mr. Gardens talking with Katie in the hall. "With _Night of the Stars_ coming up, we need to go over things…"  
>"Well, you don't have to worry about anyone else being involved." I said, "Our lessons really will be private now."<p>

"Oh?"  
>When Dr. Marcel was writing something down, I leaned into Erik's ear and whispered, "I believe Richard thinks we broke up. I'm still singing with him, but he won't be attending lessons with us."<br>"Wow, I'm so glad I'm not dead now." He said, "My world has just brightened so much." And for some odd reason, we broke into peals of laughter. I could not believe that Erik was now joking about his near death experience, but I guess if you don't laugh, you'll cry.

"These lessons, Erik," Dr. Marcel began, overhearing us, "they won't overwork you, will they?"

"They revitalize me, if anything." He said, "I've been teaching Christine how to sing for a while now, and I can't drop our sessions now. She is to perform in less than two weeks."

"I see. Just, please Erik, you'll need to rest. Take care of yourself."  
>"I know. I will."<p>

"I'll be your private nurse." I said, sitting on the edge his bed, "I'll make sure you rest up and attend to your needs."

"Then my lips hurt." He said, "Can you fix that, Nurse Christine?"

I blushed, realizing that we hadn't kissed in three days. "Of course." I answered, moving toward him. With that I pressed my mouth to his, and we embraced.

His tongue welcomed mine, and his hand gripped my own resting on the sheets. It was only a five second kiss, but when we edged away from each other, we were fulfilled.

At that moment, I heard someone run into the room, and I turned to see Mrs. Gardens. I glanced at the nearby alarm clock, seeing it was only four thirty, and began, "Mrs. Gardens, why are you back so…"  
>"I told everyone they could leave early today." She said, "I just had to see Erik." It was at that moment the sight of his eyes open, with me next to him, fully registered and she hurried over to him to wrap her arms around his shoulders.<p>

"Oh God, Erik," She whispered, "You're all right. You scared me so much, my dear."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Gardens." He murmured, "I'm sorry. I won't do this again. I'll do whatever it takes so that this doesn't happen again. I'll get therapy, if that's what I have to do. I'm sorry."

"Do you mean that, Erik?" She asked, backing away from him, "Will you really get therapy?"

"I have never broken a promise to you. I'm willing to do it now." He said, "In fact, remember that private therapist you told me about, Dr. Chandler? Do you think that maybe…"  
>"Yes, we'll get that sorted out. But first you recover." She bent down and kissed his forehead.<p>

"Wait, Mrs. Gardens, my mask, is it here?" He inquired.

"You don't have to wear that thing around us, Erik." Dr. Marcel said from the corner of the room, "But if you want it, Mr. Gardens put it in the top drawer over here."

Erik nodded, and relaxed back into the pillows. I realized then that I hadn't thought about his mask the entire time I was with him. His scarring was just a part of him, and to me he was still handsome. And Maggie hadn't even been fazed. If we accepted him like this, could the world?

"Chris, do you want to run home to get some of your things?" Mrs. Gardens asked, "I mean, Maggie I'm sure has some clothes you could borrow, but if you want your own stuff, then I could keep watch with Erik."

"There's no need to do that Mrs. Gardens. But… you'll be staying here, Christine?" Erik asked curiously. I could tell by the hint of excitement in his eyes, he was hoping my answer would be yes.

"Hey, I just had a touching reunion with my boyfriend." I teased, "Of course I can't let the happy ending be over so soon."

"Then go get your things, Chris." Mrs. Gardens instructed, "There's a guest room right down the hall, that looks like this. If you want, you can sleep there."

"Thank you Mrs. Gardens. I think that's what I'll do. My car's outside anyway."

"Okay. I'll tell Maggie you left if she asks for you."

Smiling, I left the house and got into my car, starting it up for the drive home. As soon as I reached my destination, I went inside, and gathered about five days worth of clothes. If I wanted to stay longer, I knew they wouldn't mind if I used their washer. I also packed my sheet music, CDs, Ipod charger, my makeup, and my black dress. Maybe one evening Erik might like to see it on me.

Finally I went back to Maggie's house, and sorted out my stuff in the guest room. It was exactly like Erik's, but the bed had white covers instead of brown, and there wasn't a keyboard. I placed my clothes in the chest of drawers, and everything else, I just kept in the duffle bag I carried over. As soon as everything was taken care of, I brushed my hair, and walked back into Erik's room.

That night the entire family ate with Erik. I sat on his bed, with a plate of chicken, mushrooms, onions, zucchini, and potatoes that Mr. Gardens had prepared on the grill. Erik ate what I did, but not in smaller portions (Dr. Marcel wasn't sure how his body would handle the medicine and food at the same time). The doctor, Katie, and Mr. Gardens ate with us on three chairs, while Maggie and Mrs. Gardens sat on the floor. It was a funny sight, and everyone was light hearted. Maybe it was because we were all relieved that Erik was getting help, or that he had pulled through despite how much blood he lost. Or perhaps both. Personally, I was just happy to have Erik back in my life.

Finally, around nine o'clock, I borrowed the bathroom upstairs, and took a shower and changed into my pajamas. Everyone else was getting ready for bed too, and the house was winding down.

"I'll be going now." Dr. Marcel said, as I walked into Erik's room to say goodnight, "I all ready told Mrs. Gardens that if anything is needed, to wake up Katie. She's upstairs in the living room. And if something comes up that she can't handle, call me."

"Thank you sir." I said, "We will."  
>"No, Chris, thank you." He sighed, "This is the first time Erik has ever opted to get therapy. When he was younger, I talked him into taking some medication, but he didn't like the way it made him feel. After that, I couldn't get him to consider any outside help. And, after he hurt himself last time, he wouldn't speak to anyone for days. But as soon as he heard your voice, it was like you brought him back to life. When you're around him, you bring out his best."<p>

"He brings out the best in me, Dr. Marcel." I said.

He patted my shoulder gratefully, and squeezed it. "My girl, I usually don't say this about teen love, but I hope it works between you two. Live your life and be your own person, but I hope that Erik is your companion along the way."

"I am my own person. It's just… Erik adds more to what is all ready there."

He smiled. "That is how love should be. Good night, Chris."  
>"Good night, Doctor."<p>

With that he walked upstairs, and I slid over to Erik. He was sitting up in bed, with his diary in his hands, skimming through the pages. He hadn't said one word while Dr. Marcel was talking to me, and he seemed lost in thought.

"Hello handsome." I said, touching his shoulder.

He jumped slightly, and closed the book. "Hello, Christine." He greeted, turning toward me.

I smiled, and touched one of the scars on his face. "I just came to say goodnight." I said.

"Darling, I have to know," he began suddenly, "did you read my journal?"

I nodded. "The last page. But no one else did, and I didn't tell them what was written."

"Thank you. I was worried."

"I know." I sat down at the edge of his bed, and looked down. "Erik, we are staying together, right? Because I can't go through breaking up with you again. I just can't do it. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat—I couldn't even smile."

He sighed, and I felt him take my hands. "I know I put you through a lot of pain. And I'm so, so sorry. I won't forgive myself for a while, for what I did to you. I love you, Christine. And I swear, that on my part, I will try my best so that we stay together. I won't push you away again."

I leaned forward, and softly kissed him. "That's all I need to know. I love you too, Erik. I'll see you in the morning."

"All right. Good night, my angel."

"Good night." I stood, and walked out the door.

That night, I finally managed to get a good night's sleep.


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter Thirty-Five: Slow the Pace

The next morning I was up by seven thirty, and pulling on my outfit for the day. I was happy to be finally going back to the theater, and to be working after two days of drama at home. As I brushed my hair I glanced at the mirror, looking over my jeans and tight red top once more. Erik had told me once he liked me in red. I was sure he'd be pleased to see me this morning.

I pulled out his heart pendant from the inside of my shirt, and let it rest against the crimson material. I wondered if he had eaten yet. I was sure I could find something in Maggie's house and whip it up.

I made my way into Erik's room, and saw that he was up. With him was Dr. Marcel, and both of them had plates of eggs and bacon. I guessed that Mr. Gardens was upstairs, cooking breakfast now. Or at least I was hoping he was.

"Good morning Chris." Dr. Marcel said, looking up from his plate to greet me. Erik did the same, and I walked over to his bed and leaned over for a kiss.

"Good morning to both of you." I said, "Erik, how are you feeling?"

"All right." He answered, "Better now that you're here."

I sighed. "Sorry babe, but I won't be for long. I'm working at the theater today."

"As you should! I bet with Candice there the place hasn't heard a good voice in the past two days. The public needs their songstress."

I bowed dramatically. "A pupil only reflects upon their teacher."

"You give me too much credit. Now, go upstairs and grab something to eat, love. Come say goodbye to me before you go."

"You know I will."

I soon found myself upstairs and in the kitchen, eating with Maggie on the bar/island tabletop in the center of the room. She was gearing to go for dance practice, wearing blue sweats, a white tank, and her hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail.

"How well did you sleep last night, Mags?" I asked, biting into a piece of bacon that Mr. Gardens had loaded onto my plate.

"I slept fine." She said, "And what how about you? How well did you sleep, knowing that Erik was right across the hall, and you could sneak to him at any time for some fun?"

I was drinking my glass of orange juice at that point, and I almost spit up the contents when I heard her. "Mags!" I gasped, looking to see if Mr. Gardens had left the kitchen. I was relieved to see that he had after giving me my food (I was the last one to grab breakfast) and I turned angrily back towards Maggie. "I don't think Erik would be fit to do _any_ thing like that at the moment, and even if he could…"

"What? You think he wouldn't?" She giggled, "Chris, he's a guy. I'll admit, he's a pretty self-controlled guy, but he's still one hundred percent male. I mean, I see the way he looks at you. He respects your space, but I know that, well—"

"Maggie, you're so dirty." I sighed, "I know how guys are. But enough of this chat. It's almost eight thirty, and I want to get to the theater early to catch up on some stuff before everyone rushes in."

"Good idea. I'll take care of the dishes. You go say bye to Erik."

I ran down to the basement, and quickly embraced him in a hug and kiss. "I have to go." I said, "But here," I took my ipod out of my back pocket and handed it to him. "For you. There might be some songs you like on there."  
>Erik turned it on curiously, and began to scroll through my play lists. "You have a lot of Elton John on here."<p>

I shrugged. "It makes me smile, and I like dancing to it. Really, I listen to anything. You know me. Now, I gotta run." I kissed him one more time. "See you later. I love you."  
>"Love you too." He said, squeezing my hand. "See you tonight."<p>

Smiling I made my way back upstairs, where Maggie was waiting for me at the front door. I grabbed my purse, walked out of the house with her, and into my car. In less than ten minutes we were at the theater, and to my surprise, waiting for us was Richard.

"Look, it's the welcoming committee." Maggie groaned, rolling her eyes.

"Come on." I said, "Just ignore her. Don't waste your energy being annoyed with him, when you need to save it for dance practice." We trudged up the steps together, and when we passed the door Rich was leaning against, he joined our group.

"Hi girls." He said, "How are you feeling? I heard you were sick yesterday."

"Yeah, we're fine." I answered coolly.

"Thanks for your concern, Rich." Maggie added.

"Will you be able to perform, Chris? I know that right now has to be hard."  
>"And why is it hard?" I asked testily, wishing he'd leave us alone.<p>

"Because… apparently your teacher is no longer is giving you lessons, and we no longer are receiving critiques. Did something happen?"

Then I remembered, Rich thought that Erik and I broke up. I could use this to my advantage, I realized.

"Yes." I said, "I'm not seeing him anymore, Rich. And you know what I mean."

He stopped walking, and I turned to look at him. He glanced down, and shrugged. "I'm sorry, Chris. I didn't know."  
>"Well now you do. So if you don't mind, I have some costumes to work on, and then we need to work on our act."<p>

With a huff I made my way backstage with Maggie, and she smiled shyly at my lie. "Nice acting." She said.

"Thank you. I was hoping it would work. Now, I'll see you later at lunch break?"

"Duh."

With that we parted ways, and I went back to my beloved costume closet to sort through outfits and do some mending.

They day wore on with little excitement, and no drama. I managed to find all my performers and make sure everything they needed was gathered. The next day, I would have them try on their things, and I would adjust what was required. Rehearsal with Richard went well, and my solo practice wasn't bad either. Maggie and I drove home that day, content with being back at the theater.

Since Mrs. Gardens had to stay at the theater to take care of a few things, and Mr. Gardens was still at work, that left only Maggie, Katie, and I in the house. Dr. Marcel had gone home after checking up on Erik, since he had other sick patients at their houses' to attend to, so Maggie decided to get started on supper while I said hi to Erik.

"Lucy, I'm home!" I cried jokingly, walking into his room.

All ready, Erik looked ten times better than the day before. He wasn't on his bed, this time sitting in a chair reading a book, and he was now dressed in jeans with a gray t-shirt with socked feet. He looked pretty laid back, even with his mask on. Hearing me, he gave a small chuckle, then stood to greet me.

"How you feeling?" I asked, wrapping my arms around him.

"Well Dr. Marcel told me to take it easy and left Katie here to make sure I was okay. But of course, I'm disobeying his orders, and I told Katie to go take a nap in the living room upstairs and to stop worrying." He answered, "So I guess I'm pretty well. How was your day back at the theater?"

"It went smoothly." I said, "Richard thinks we broke up, so we don't have to worry about him now. After _Night of the Stars_, those pictures on his phone will be destroyed, and everything will be fine."

He nodded, and took my hands. "I just realized, we almost sound like a normal couple Christine."

"Erik, we are normal." I reassured, "It's just, our circumstance is different. That's all."

"Yeah, I guess so. Hey, do you think that Mr. and Mrs. Gardens will let me eat upstairs with everyone at the dinner table? You know, kind of like a family."

I smiled. "I bet we can work it out."

So that night, we all ate Maggie's homemade spaghetti in the dining room, and then we even played _Scrabble_ afterwards. It was an odd sight: a nurse, a masked man, two nerdy theater girls, and an older couple all sitting around a table stating which words were real and which words weren't, while teasing and laughing. And while the sight was odd, I don't think anyone else in Belleview could have been as happy as we were.

Before my shower that night I borrowed Maggie's laptop, and in the privacy of my room, I typed out an email to my father. I said I loved him, and that it was lonely in the house without him, so I was staying with the Gardens' for the next two weeks. I finally told him I got into _Night of the Stars_ and beat out Candice for the last spot, which I was sure he'd be happy about. I would be performing next Saturday at six, and that I'd be thinking of him.

I finished up my email with my usual, "with love, Chris" when I stopped, and added one more thing after my signature:

"PS- I met someone in the theater. I've been seeing him for the past few weeks, but I haven't had the courage to tell you, and I wanted to see how things worked out. He's a really nice guy, and the Gardens have known him for years. He's two years older than me, but he's very respectful, and he actually wants to meet you. He loves your music, and it would be a big deal if he could come over for dinner when you came back."

Gathering all my reserves of courage, I pressed the send button, then ran upstairs to get my shower. After I came back down, clad in my pajamas, I looked at my email account one more time… to see a message from my father:

"Dear Chris,

Congrats on getting into the show! I always knew you had the talent to get in. Please tell me you'll get someone to record your performance, so I can see it. I miss hearing my baby girl sing.

I never knew if I told you this enough, sweet heart, but I'm proud of you. My CDs, my music career, and my business are nothing compared to you. I know that I haven't been around as much as we both would've liked, but it doesn't mean that I don't love you. When I come back in August, we'll spend time together, and I'll be there your entire senior year. I have everything worked out so I won't have to travel. I'll be there for prom, for graduation… I'll be there for everything.

And you tell this boy you're seeing that too. What's his name? Is he going to college? Does he have a job and car? Dear God, please don't tell me you've been alone together.

Anyway, miss you, love you, and I hope to hear from you soon. And seriously, don't be out too late with that boy. And I do want to meet him as soon as I come back. Tell him I have a shotgun at my house.

Love, Dad"

I laughed out loud reading his message, seeing that when I mentioned a boy, he didn't wait to reply the next day. I sent him one more email, reassuring him that my boyfriend was financially stable, and that education wise, he was ahead of his peers. I decided to 'accidentally' overlook the part about dad asking for his name, and if I had been out late with Erik.

I think I would have to tell dear old pops all that in person, if he were to believe who Erik really was.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter Thirty-Six: Start of the Show

The next week passed in a flurry of activity. Everyone was rushing around, getting things at the theater ready for _Night of the Stars_. I was working on the final touches of my costume in between rehearsing the two acts I was in. Maggie and Jamie were continually practicing their dance routine, and coming up with clever things to say as they played the part of the Mistresses of Ceremony. And other acts were just flat out nervous about performing. But while everyone was stressed out, we were also having a lot of fun, and working on the variety show was my favorite thing to do every single summer. Yeah, it left me wanting to pull my hair out some nights, but the final product always turned out amazing, and the exhilaration and fulfillment were worth it.

At last it was the night before the big show, and everyone was upstairs, enjoying pizza. Mrs. Gardens and Mr. Gardens were too tired to cook anything, as were Maggie, Erik, and I, so we sat munching our junk food in the living room. It was decided Erik would be staying with the Gardens, until the secret panel in the theater was repaired… but he didn't seem to be in a huge rush to get it fixed. So he was sitting by me on the couch with an arm around my shoulder, also enjoying supper. I had a feeling that as long as I stayed in the house with everybody he'd be there too. And I think everyone was okay with that.

"You know, even though I'm taking time off work," Mr. Gardens said, looking at all of us, "I think I'll have to take another week to actually have a _vacation_." We laughed. That week Mr. Gardens had been helping out at the theater, by being my accompanist and working with Mrs. Gardens on advertising and other matters that had to do with the show. It meant a lot to everyone in the house that he would willingly step away from his company for a week to help us with the show, and be involved.

"I think all of us will need a vacation after this." Maggie sighed, "But I know this show is going to be awesome!"

"Mrs. Gardens," Erik said suddenly, looking up from his dinner plate, "do you think that, before the doors open tomorrow at the theater, you can get me inside the auditorium?"

"Why Erik?" She asked.

He grinned. "I think the Theater Ghost needs to make an appearance in Box 5."

She chuckled. "Well, I think I could sneak you in. Call for the cast is at five, so can you be ready to leave here by four?"

"Of course. We need to sneak me in before anyone gets there."

"That's the plan."

"Does it look like it's going to be a good show?"

"Well duh." Maggie said, "It always is. And you should've seen Chris today at dress rehearsal."

He gave me a playful glare. "Well, if she would show me what she's going to wear _now_ for her personal act, I would know what to look for on stage!" He teased.

I giggled. Maggie and I had gone into town the Saturday before to buy me a dress for my act. I have always had this crazy belief that a dress for the stage should never been worn outside it's intended performance, unless it was for rehearsal. And I had been driving Erik crazy, not telling him what I was going to wear. During our lessons he would go on and on about him 'being an artist' and wanting to 'visualize my performance' while I sang.

"I all ready told you it's white." I said, "What more do you want?"

"Okay, so that narrows it down to about five million dresses in the world."

I stood up to make my way back to the kitchen, so I could place my plate in the sink. "Would you like some _whine_ with that cheese, love?"

"Oh, knock it off you two!" Mr. Gardens laughed, "Or I'll start singing!"  
>"NO!" Everyone yelled at once. Even though he was a great piano player, everyone agreed that Mr. Gardens was better off singing 'solo'… so low no one could hear him.<p>

That night I managed to fall asleep by midnight, which was a miracle considering how nervous I was. But I had to rest up, since I knew of the long day ahead of me. No one had to be at the theater until call at five, and then the show started at seven. Just the waiting to be on stage would make me anxious enough though, and I knew that I would want to run through my song at least once with Mr. Gardens before hand.

The next day I was up by eight, even though I could have slept in. I had tried to go back to sleep, but excitement filled me, so my efforts were in vain. I listened to the stillness of the house, to see if anyone else was up, but heard nothing. I got out of bed and trudged upstairs into the kitchen, ready to pour myself a nice, cool bowl of chocolate Cheerios. Instead, another sight met me that was so hysterical, I had to bite my tongue so I wouldn't burst out laughing and wake up the house.

There was Erik, leaning over the stove, whipping up pancakes. Now, that wasn't the funny part. The funny part was that he was wearing an _apron_… a powder blue frilly apron with a purple bow, something that I recognized from Maggie taking Home Ec this year. Underneath he was wearing jeans, and a red button down shirt with his mask on, and socked feet. He really looked quite nice, but that apron…

After flipping about six pancakes and sliding them on a plate with a spatula, he turned around and saw me in the doorway. That was when I noticed the large purple heart on the apron, sewn on my Maggie's (at the time) inexperienced hand. I couldn't help it then. I burst into a fit of giggles, trying to silence myself by planting my hand over my mouth, but it was no use. I was giggling so hard, I actually slid down on the floor and sat against the wall, trying to contain myself.

"I don't look that funny." He stated, putting the plate of pancakes down on the kitchen bar, and crossing his arms over his chest to glare at me.

I nodded, tears in my eyes. "Actually, yes you do." I chuckled, trying to stand back up.

"Well you look funny too." He said, eyeing my purple polka dot pajama bottoms and top. "Like a purple people eater with frizzy hair."

"Oh good, we match. With your purple heart and my ensemble, we could lead a parade. How about that, Barney the Dinosaur?"

"Really now?" He said, giving up his glare and finally smiling. "That's just an insult my dear. I sound _ten_ times better than Barney."

I at last quit laughing, and stood up to walk over and hug him. His arms found themselves around my waist, and he gently kissed my forehead.

"Good morning beautiful." He greeted.

"Good morning Barney." I teased, "I thought you said I looked like a purple people eater."

"Well you're my purple people eater." He chuckled, stepping back to untie the apron, and hang it on a hook in the wall, "This thing was the only covering I could find. Well, either that or an apron covered with Easter bunnies and eggs."

"Oh, now that one would've been a blast to make fun of." I said, "But anyway, what are you doing up so early?"

"I've been up for a while." Erik sighed, "I woke up at seven and couldn't go back to sleep. Then I heard you stirring in your room, and I thought, why not make you some breakfast?"

I grinned. "Thanks, Erik."

"Hey, today's a big day for you." He said, walking over to the cabinet to fish out two other plates for us, "I thought I'd do something special."

Soon we were sitting down on two bar stools, eating at the kitchen island. I took a bite into one of my three pancakes, and my taste buds exploded with happiness. The pancake itself was hot and fluffy, while I could taste a bit of white chocolate, and some kind of nut.

"Are there almonds in here?" I asked.

"Yes." He answered, "Mrs. Gardens used to make these for me when I was younger: almond and white chocolate pancakes. I finally got the recipe and learned to make them myself."

I turned his face toward mine, and carefully lifted the mask off him. "Thank you." I said, kissing his lips, "Erik, you're too amazing to me."

"You're amazing to me, every waking moment of every day. And sometimes, in my dreams." He said.

I felt my heart flip when he said that. If every person in the world had heard what he just said, no one would question why I was so deeply in love with this man.

"Are you nervous about tonight, Christine?" He said, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Yes." I confessed. "I'm terrified to be honest."

"Hey, you and Mr. Gardens are going to be amazing. And I'll be there, watching you. You'll be the star of the show. And afterwards, you'll go to _Beat of the Sea_, and meet your adoring fans."

I laughed. "Adoring fans might be a strong phase to use, but it'll be fun."

"What's the theme of the party this time?"

"Oh, you'll love this. It's _Rock of Stages_. Pretty much, rock and roll theme. I'm just going to wear the dress that I perform in to the party though."

"So, since today is the day of the show, are you going to tell me what it looks like?"

"No. But I'll give you a small detail. It's a short dress."

"How short?"

"Not going to tell you."

"Ah, now I learn that my Christine Davis is a tease."

I smiled. "We've made out before. I thought you knew how much of a tease I was."

"Hey, something smells good in here!" I turned, to see Maggie entering the kitchen, wearing pink shorts with a tank top, her usual pajamas. She eyed the plate of pancakes and grinned. "Oh my god, are these Mom's white chocolate and almond pancakes?"

I looked over at the apron on the hook, and giggled. "I guess you could say that."

At that moment Erik gave me his if-you-tell-anyone-what-you-saw-I'll-hunt-you-down stare, and I touched his arm, letting him know that our secret was safe… for at least for a week or so.

I spent the rest of the day either relaxing in front of the TV, or with a book, trying to keep myself chill before the show. I didn't eat much for lunch, only nibbling on a sandwich, before going to Erik in his room to get in a quick lesson before the show. This time instead of Erik playing the piano, Mr. Gardens accompanied me, and Erik gave me a few pointers. Just the usual "use your body subtly to express the song", "breathe", "stop worrying, Chris, you'll be fine". Oh yeah, there was a lot of the latter being said.

After the hour-long lesson Mr. Gardens left to get a quick nap, and I stayed with Erik downstairs. We sat on the floor of his room, kissing, talking… doing the normal stuff a couple would. Which pretty much is slobbering over each other.

"Hey Erik, do you know what time it is?" I asked, as we came up for air after making out.

He looked at his alarm clock, which was behind me, and said, "It's three thirty."

"Oh crap, it is?" I stood up. "I have to get ready then, Erik. I need to get a quick shower, and then blow dry my hair, and gather my things."

"I know." He said, getting up off the floor. "My diva needs to prepare herself."

"Yeah. And you're leaving in twenty minutes anyway."

"Well, say goodbye to me now then, and go get ready."

I leaned into him and we kissed. "I'll see if I can make my shower quick, so I can see you right before you go."

"But in case… I'll see you when you get home after the party, all right?"

I nodded, and then left to grab my first outfit for the show out of my room, which was what I'd be wearing when I sang with Rich. I had a pair of black jeans, high heels, a crap vest with a white tank, and a black fedora. I left the fedora downstairs, but carried everything else with me to the bathroom on the next floor. As quickly as I could I got my shower, which consisted of me, shaving my legs, washing my hair, and then lathering myself in body wash. As I was getting out of the shower and drying myself, someone knocked on my door.

"Chris!" I listened close, and realize the person talking to me was Maggie, "Erik's about to leave!"

"Thanks Maggie!" I said, pulling on my tank and jeans. As soon as I was decently covered, I ran out of the bathroom and toward the entryway.

I caught Mrs. Gardens and Erik just as they were poised to walk out the door. They both turned to me as I was coming down the hall, but I stopped short when I saw Erik.

He was dressed completely in black, from his shoes to his shirt, which was a stark contrast to his white mask. His hair was slicked back, and his clothes seemed like they were tailored just to fit him, especially the dark suit jacket that he wore, which did wonders for his trim figure.

"You look mysterious." I said, gently taking his hand.

"That's my job as the Theater Ghost." Erik said, "To be a force, unseen. But if you want to look for me, I'll be in Box five. You'll be wonderful, my dear."

"With you, I think I can be anything."

"All right, cut it with the romantics." Mrs. Gardens laughed, "We have to go, Erik."

He leaned in and kissed my forehead. "I'll see you later, Chris."  
>"All right. Bye Erik." I then turned to Mrs. Gardens, and saw she was wearing a short green dress, that came down to her knees, with pearls and her hair in a bun. "Oh, and you look nice by the way, Mrs. Gardens."<br>"Thank you dear." She said, "As do you. I'll see you later."

With that they left, and I moved back to the bathroom to dry my hair.

For the next hour I gathered my stage makeup, curling iron, and my new white dress for my solo performance, and got it ready to go to the theater. I would be doing my hair and makeup there, while possibly helping out the less inexperienced performers. I couldn't believe my weeks of work were finally coming down to this. I knew I had to get tonight's performances right, or I would feel like I failed Erik… and myself.

Finally Maggie and I were ready to go, along with Mr. Gardens. Maggie was in her dancing outfit, which she would also be wearing while she and Jamie MC-ed, and Mr. Garden was dressed in black pants, with a white shirt and belt. He looked like an old soul piano man, someone that could be found playing in a hotel lobby at night.

"You girls look like your ready to go." He said, gazing at both of us.

"Yep." I said, slinging my duffel bag over my arm, with my dress on its hanger in my other hand. "Yes we are."

"All right, then let's get going."  
>The drive to the theaters seemed shorter than usual, with Mr. Gardens at the wheel talking with us excitingly, and soon we parked and made our way to the entrance, and then backstage. I braced myself, knowing that the next two hours would be absolutely nuts with everyone getting ready.<p>

And it was.

Straighteners, curling irons, and brushes were all in action in the women's dressing room. Older girls, such as I, were helping the younger performers with hair and makeup, while trying to get our own done. I managed to finally get my hair fully curled (and I hair sprayed it to death so that it wouldn't come undone the entire night) and then I had to go into the bathroom down the hall to apply my makeup in peace. I simply put on foundation, powder, dark eye shadow with a bit of gold, mascara, eyeliner, and red lipstick. I also finished applying the final touches to my outfit, which included putting on my crap vest and putting on my gold chain earrings and long necklace. I had chosen my jewelry carefully, so that my accessories would work with both my outfits, and the only thing I would have to change between my first and second performance would be my dress.

I thought of my dress now, and smiled. Maggie and I had looked all day the Saturday before to find the perfect dress for my performance, and after four hours of trying on stuff and searching, we found it in the last shop, near the back on the clearance rack. It was a one-shouldered number, which came down to my knees, was tight at the waist, and then flared out. Hundreds of gold colored beads were sewn around the waist of the dress, accenting my hourglass figure, and gold jewels were bunched together on the one shoulder. It had a sweet heart neckline, showing off my bust, and when I tried it on and fit me perfectly, I knew I had to have it. It cost me almost two weeks of my paychecks from the theater, but I didn't care. I hadn't spent a penny of my earnings, and I thought after working so hard, I deserved to splurge. The gold heels (that Maggie let me borrow from her closet) that I would be wearing were in my duffel bag. I knew that on stage, when Erik saw me, I'd be a knockout.

I finally left the quietness of the bathroom, and went back to the total chaos that was the women's dressing room. It was thirty minutes before the show—now crunch time to get ready. And then, when the last young girl's hair was sprayed, and the final touch of lipstick was applied to a performer, Mrs. Gardens called into the dressing room, "Ten minutes until we start!"

It was then that Maggie and Jamie ran out of the room to go do their opening monologue, and everyone else finally took a minute to breathe. I looked around at all of the performers, including a little girl dressed in pink who had an operatic voice, to Candice who was ready to do her Britney Spears number and, quite frankly, looked like a skank in her too tight, red sequined dress and overdone hair and makeup. We had such a wide range of performers for _Night of the Stars_ this year, and it always pleased me to see such variety.

At last, it was five minutes before the show started, and me and some of the other girls ventured out backstage to watch the show open, me included. I watched from the side, hidden by backstage curtains, as the lights came up on the stage, went down on the audience, and everything became silent.

Suddenly from the other side of the stage, Jamie and Maggie cartwheel-ed on, and the audience laughed and clapped for them. I joined in, and I couldn't keep my smile off my face. As soon as they were standing up, they waved toward the attendees and Jamie said, "Well, we can't top that. See you guys later." They pretended to start exiting the stage, and everyone began laughing again. They went back to their places, and let out their showgirl grins. "Seriously though, thank you all for such a warm welcome. We're so glad you all are here tonight. We have such a great show for you…"

Their opening monologue continued and knowing that they were doing amazingly, I walked back into the dressing room to do some warm-ups with my voice. All the other acts had seen each other over and over again for the past few weeks, so while some stood on the sidelines backstage to support their friends, others tried to calm down in the dressing rooms and make last minute preparations for their own acts.

I knew Rich and I were performing right before intermission, so I had some time to kill. I spent most of it waiting, and then going backstage to seek him out.

He and his band were gathering their things, getting ready to be on stage in ten minutes. The amplifiers for their instruments were all ready set up near the back of the stage on a platform, where the instrumentalists would be performing. There would be two microphones set upon mic stands at the front of the, where Rich and I would be singing. Richard all ready had his wireless guitar in his hands, and everyone else gathered what they needed. Finally the act before us came off, and it was our cue to go on stage.

Jamie and Maggie worked out an awesome skit/monologue, to make us setting up be like part of the show. Jamie and Maggie came on, as we were getting ready, and Jamie walked over to help the band connect their instruments to their amplifies.

"Jamie," Maggie asked from up stage, "what in the world are you doing?"

"Helping out." She answered, "Come on, do you really think these guys' can afford a road crew in this economy?"

People in the audience laughed as Maggie walked over there to pull Jamie away. "Come on," She sighed, "stop trying to be a rockstar."

As they walked off stage (Jamie pretending to struggle the whole way) we managed to get everything set up, just as we wanted it to be. At last Richard walked toward the microphone, and began playing the intro toward the song. Then, he sang:

"_I wanted you to know_

_That I love the way you laugh_

_I wanna hold you high and steal your pain_

_Away_

_And keep you photograph_

_Not know it serves me well_

_I wanna hold you high and steal your pain_"

Then I came in, and harmonized the chorus:

"_Because I'm broken_

_When I'm lonesome_

_And I don't feel right_

_When you're gone away"_

That performance meant little to me, though I did do my best singing the song, and entertaining the audience. When it was done I was surprised to hear how loudly everyone cheered, and some people actually stood up for their seats. I was hoping that Quinn Lockhart, that producer who was supposedly here tonight, liked it, and that maybe her praise would get Richard off my back.

After the song was done, it was intermission, and as the curtain closed, the band got their things off stage. Everyone involved with that act actually came up to me personally, and thanked me for singing. I smiled, and a part of me was glad I did it. Even if I didn't think Richard deserved any attention from the producer, I believed that these guys did.

Richard came up to me as we finished putting away the last amplifier, and he touched my shoulder. "You did a good job, Chris." He said, "Really, I mean that."  
>"Thanks." I spat, "I didn't do it willingly. Now, I did my part of the bargain, so you do yours."<p>

"But, I thought you and Erik…"  
>"It doesn't matter. He still deserves respect when it comes to his privacy."<br>He sighed, and I watched him like a hawk as he took out his phone, pressed a few buttons to get to his picture file, and began deleting the photos. It took about four minutes, and when the phone asked if he wanted the changes saved, he pushed yes. Only then did I relax a bit.

"Is that all?" I asked.

"Yes."  
>"Do you promise?"<br>"Chris… I never lied to you. I might have done a lot of things, but I never lied." Well, I'd give hm that.

"Okay. Thank you. Now, goodbye Richard."  
>With that I turned around and walked away from him. I felt a big weight lift off my shoulders, and I guess everything would have gone smoothly…<p>

If I didn't hear a crash backstage at that moment.

I spun around, and raced toward the sound, knowing that whenever a crash happened backstage in a theater, someone or something was either injured or damaged. Near the stairs where the costume room was, and where we had stacked up the speakers, I saw a group of people gathered, and I pushed through to see what had happened.

Murphy's law states that whatever can go wrong, will go wrong, and in that moment I found this to be perfectly true. The sight that met me was Mr. Gardens, being helped off the ground by Maggie and Richard, and Candice leaning against the wall, slightly shaking. To my horror, I saw that Mr. Gardens was holding his right hand protectively, and when it came to him being my piano player, I knew that, that only meant bad news.

"What happened?" I asked, as Maggie and Richard sat Mr. Gardens on the stairs.

"Candice was being a freak'in idiot." Maggie stated, "She was screwing around back here practicing her dance moves, and managed to topple over the amplifiers. Luckily, my dad pushed her out of the way…"

"Smashing my hand between two amplifiers in the process." Mr. Gardens finished.

Maggie turned to Rich and ordered, "Go get my mom. She's probably in the women's dressing room, and then ask her where the first aid kit is." He nodded, and ran off to go find Mrs. Gardens. At that moment Maggie began her own examination of her father's injury, aided with her experience with ballet accidents in the past.

"Dad, can you move your fingers?" She asked. He did so with struggle, and nodded. She took his hand, and carefully felt around his wrist. "God, you're all ready starting to swell but, I don't think your wrist is broken, just sprained."

"Great. Then I can still play for Chris." He said.

"No, you can't." I said, "You can barely move your fingers. There's no way you can play with your wrist like it is. I'll just… I'll just have to drop my act."

"Chris, no!" Jamie gasped from behind me, "You've worked so hard."

"You're one of the best ones here." Maggie said, "Do you have a recording of your song or anything?"  
>I shook my head. "No. I have NOTHING with me that'll work." I could feel my throat tighten, and tears come to my eyes, but I tried to fight them back. "It's all right. There's always next year…"<p>

"Chris, I can play your song."

Everyone turned to see who had spoken. The person stepped out from behind the shadows, and my suspicions as to who it was, were confirmed.

The small group went completely silent seeing Erik, dressed completely in black and almost blending in with the darkness. The guys stared at his mask, while the girls simply stared at _him_. I was glad Richard was still gone, or he might have caused a scene.

"Who are you?" One of the performer questioned.

"He's a friend of Chris and I." Maggie said quickly. "We invited him to the show tonight."

"I'm just here to help." He said, "I've worked with Chris on her song, and know it on the piano."

I stepped past everyone, and to Erik. "Are you sure you're willing to perform?" I asked, then leaned in and whispered, "It's a risk."  
>He nodded. "I know, but I'm willing to do it, for you." He said, "This is your chance to shine, Christine."<p>

I smiled, and looked toward Mr. Gardens. He looked back at me, and nodded.

"Well," He said, "don't just stand there. Chris, go get ready for your act!"

Everyone let out a cheer, as I ran back to the women's dressing room to change. On the way there I passed Mr. Gardens and Richard. I decided not to stay anything to them about what was going to happen. I'm sure they would hear it from Maggie anyway.


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter Thirty-Seven: True Beauty

Intermission was continued for ten more minutes, but after that, everything moved on as planned. After taking care of Mr. Gardens, most of the female performers barged into the dressing room, just as I finished putting on my dress, and began to interrogate me.

"Oh my God Chris!" Angie, a solo violin player giggled, "He is SO hot! How old is he?"

"Does he have a brother?" Someone else asked.

"Is he from out of town?"

"Do you like him?"

"Are you two dating? God, if I saw a guy like that, I wouldn't let him get away too easily."

"Is he in theater? What does he do?"

"How long have you known him?"

I laughed, and bent down to slip on my gold heels. "One question at a time girls! First off, I've known him for a while now. He's a very talented singer and musician, and he's a wonderful guy. Now, I gotta run. I have to find him and work a few things out for the act."

"But Chris, tell us if he's single…"

Before I had to answer any other questions, I left the dressing room, and walked backstage to find Erik.

He was standing near the sets, away from the groups of people watching the performance going on. No one was paying attention, so I walked over to him, and took his hand.

"Hey you." I whispered.

"Hey." He whispered back.

"Thank you, for doing this for me. How did you know Mr. Gardens hurt himself?"  
>"I was up on the catwalk, and I saw what happened." He glanced around, then quickly kissed my cheek. "You amaze me. You offered to give up your act, even though he was willing to play for you."<br>"I know, that's stupid of me, but I couldn't let him with his hand…"  
>"I didn't say it was stupid." He interrupted, "I actually think it was quite noble of you. You're a selfless girl, Chris. Oh, and by the way, you look beautiful."<p>

I glanced down at my dress. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, my Angel of Music, my precious angel in white."

I leaned against his shoulder. "Erik, is it okay if I tell people that we're dating? The girls backstage thing you're the hottest thing since Johnny Depp, and they want to know if you're single."  
>He looked at me in disbelief. "They think I'm handsome?"<p>

"Actually, they think you're 'SO hot'."

He smiled. "Well, tell them I'm sadly dating and am with the most gorgeous girl in the world." He stopped talking suddenly, and took a deep breath. "And Chris, I'm thinking about trying to contact my family… the Kynastons."

I squeezed his fingers. "Really?"

"Yes. If I'm going to get therapy… I think it's time. I don't want to hide anymore. I'm tired of hiding. I want to feel the sunlight again. But please, I don't want you to worry about it now. We're performing soon."

There was a pause, before I turned his head toward mine, and kissed his lips, not caring who saw us. "I'm proud of you, Erik. I love you."

"I love you too."

We waited for another thirty minutes in the shadows, while I explained where the piano was on stage, and we worked out how we were going to do this. We stood on the sidelines, watching as the act before us performed, and then waited until the lights went out. We would be performing without an introduction, since we were the grand finale.

When the lights went down that was Erik's cue to come on, and make his way to the piano. As soon as he did, he started playing the intro, and the light came back up. I walked on stage as he played, grabbed the microphone from the stand. This was it, our moment in the spotlight… and I only wanted to prove to Erik, my father, and myself that I could be the musician that they were. As I thought all this I took a deep breath, and began singing:

"_Remember those walls I built_

_Well Baby they are tumbling down_

_And they didn't even put up a fight_

_They didn't even make a sound_

_I found a way to let you in_

_But I never really had a doubt_

_Standing in the light of your halo_

_I got my angel now"_

Then I walked over to the piano as I sang the next part:

"_It's like I've been awaken_

_Every rule I had you breakin_

_It's the risk that I'm taking_

_I ain't never gonna shut you out_

_Everywhere I'm looking now_

_I'm surrounded by your embrace_

_Baby I can see your halo_

_You know you're my saving grace_

_You're everything I need and more_

_It's written all over your face_

_Baby I can feel your halo_

_Pray won't fade away"_

I leaned back as he hit a powerful cord, letting my hair fall lower down my shoulders.

"_I can see your halo_

_I can feel your halo_

_I can see your halo_

_I can feel your halo_

_Hit me like a ray of sun_

_Burning through my darkest night_

_You're the only one that I want_

_Think I'm addicted to your light_

_I swore I'd never fall again_

_But this don't even feel like falling_

_Gravity can't begin_

_To pull me back to the ground again"_

I then made my way over behind Erik, reaching out to touch his shoulder, yet was pretending I was hesitant to. His eyes were closed, and he was moving with the song as he played. Never had I seen him so into a song and so jubilant. It was like he was in his own nirvana.

"_It's like I've been awaken_

_Every rule I had you breakin_

_It's the risk that I'm taking_

_I'm never gonna shut you out_

_Everywhere I'm looking now_

_I'm surrounded by your embrace_

_Baby I can see your halo_

_You know you're my saving grace_

_You're everything I need and more_

_It's written all over your face_

_Baby I can feel your halo_

_Pray it won't fade away"_

There he played the small piano interlude, and he actually stood up from his piano bench and let the music come to me. I could hear him freestyle a little bit, adding his own flare here and there, and I moved closer to him. He saw me out of the corner of his eye, and watched me as he played. Finally he finished his solo, and I continued:

"_Everywhere I'm looking now_

_I'm surrounded by your embrace_

_Baby I can see your halo_

_You know you're my saving grace_

_You're everything I need and more_

_It's written all over your face_

_Baby I can feel your halo_

_Pray it won't fade away_

_I can see your halo_

_I can feel your halo_

_I can see your halo_

_I can feel your halo"_

At last he ended the song, and sat back down at the piano bench. And then, we heard the applause.

It was the loudest clapping I had ever heard in my life. Ever, period. People were yelling my name, and even backstage, the performers were hollering. Soon everyone in the audience started standing, and tears came to my eyes. I looked over at Erik, and he was beaming with pride.

I rushed over there, and took his hand, pulling him center stage with me. People started clapping harder for him, and I backed away to let him have his moment. He put a hand over his heart and gave a bow, before motioning for me to stand next to him. I did so, he took my hand, and we bowed together. Right before going off stage, I couldn't help it. I wrapped my arms around Erik's neck, and I guess I was so caught up in the moment, I kissed him right then and there. On stage. In front of almost everyone in Belleview. And instead of being shocked, he went along with it, and dipped me back. I heard a few people whistle, and we straightened up and laughed. Hand and hand, Erik and I walked backstage, and into the throngs of the celebratory performers.

"You guys were fantastic!" One of the guys said, giving Erik a high five, "Man dude, you can play!"

"Chris, you two rocked it!" Maggie cried, hugging Erik and I both.

"Holy crap, I seriously thought it was a recording at first." Jamie said, "Like, you are fan-freak'in-tastic."  
>"Even I'll admit," Candice said from the side, "you're pretty good. Not as good as me, but good. And you're lucky to have that guy… considering your," she sneered at me, "circumstance."<p>

I wasn't going to say anything, and just take Candice's backhanded compliment in stride, but Maggie spoke up.

"Candice," She said, in a sickly sweet tone, "for once in your life, can you _not_ be a bitchy diva?"

Everyone gasped at her comment, and then burst into giggles as Candice stomped away with a huff. I wrapped my arm around Maggie's shoulders in a half hug, and sighed.

"I've been wanting to say that for years." I confessed.

"Yeah, we all kinda have." Jamie agreed. Everyone burst out laughing then, and the mood lightened once more.

"Hey, Chris," one of the ballet girls said, "Can I have you and your boyfriend's autograph? So that way when you become famous I can show off to my friends."  
>I giggled, shaking my head. "You know, you guys were pretty amazing yourselves. It wasn't just me and Desmond that made the show… you guys were spectacular too."<br>"Chris is right," Desmond said, "I have seen wondrous talent, and let me tell you, I have never been more honored to have been able to share a stage with you. So, I thank you for that."

At that moment I saw someone push through the small group of people, and realized it was Rich. He seemed shocked that Desmond was here, and he looked at him for a few seconds, studying him. Then, with a shrug, he held out his hand to both of us.

"You did a good job." He stated, "Both of you. I'm glad you two worked together."

I reluctantly took his hand, and we shook. "Thanks Richard." I said.

"It's nothing, Chris. Talent is talent. I guess all I have to say is… well, good luck." After that he walked away from us, and that was it. Erik and I went back to talking to the group, but a part of me still lingered on the thought of Rich going. It was like the fate of our friendship was forever sealed in that single moment. I would never refer to him as one of my pals again, but when I looked back on this time later in my life, I would have no ill will against him. What happened simply happened, and I believe that things were supposed to have been that way.

Suddenly our celebrating was stopped by a stagehand running up to all of us. "Mrs. Gardens wants you all in the women's dressing room, now." He said.

We shrugged, and all walked further backstage, squeezing into the room. There Mrs. Gardens was, sitting on the makeup cabinet, beaming at all of us. Another woman, who we had never seen before, sat nearby in a chair. She had dark hair pulled back behind her ears, and she wore a green summer dress with a short-sleeved cropped suit jacket and heels. Her makeup was simply done, but her nails were manicured and trimmed. I had no clue who she was, so I turned my attention toward Mrs. Gardens.

"Now, I'm going to make this quick so you can all leave soon," she began, "but you all were excellent tonight. Never have I directed a more successful _Night of the Stars_. Everything ran so smoothly tonight, and you all came to show off your best. I am so proud of you guys. I can't even begin to express how much joy I feel, because I have worked with you. So here's what we're going to do. On Monday, we'll strike everything, and you all can come in and get things out of the lockers here that you need. But until then, the normal theater crew has the rest of the weekend off. Now, you all may go and enjoy your party at _Beat of the Sea_." We cheered and turned to grab our things, but Mrs. Gardens quickly cried, "Wait, Desmond and Chris, you stay here!"

We both stopped in our tracks, and turned toward Mrs. Gardens. She motioned for us to follow her, and the woman in the green dress stood up, as we were lead out to the hall, and into a quiet corner backstage. Finally Mrs. Gardens turned to the woman, and grinned.

"Chris, Desmond" she said, "this is Quinn Lockhart. She's a producer from Firestone Records, and she saw you perform tonight."  
>I gazed at the woman, and my mouth fell open. "Oh my gosh, hi!" I said, holding my hand out, "It's so nice to meet you!"<p>

She smiled warmly and took my hand. "It's nice to meet you too." She said, "Believe me."

"Hello Mrs. Lockhart." Erik greeted, shaking her hand next.  
>"I actually heard of you before." I stated. "You worked with my father, Christopher Davis."<p>

She nodded. "Indeed I have. It's nice to see that you have your dad's talent for music. He was always such a joy to work with. I was always sad that he stopped playing."  
>"Yeah, me too. I just can't believe you're here now!"<p>

"Well Chris, there is a reason why I'm here." She said, "My record company has always been into classical music, and music that is more… vintage. But lately we've decided that we want to branch out, and get the attention of a younger audience, while keeping the music wholesome and still full of quality. I've been traveling around to see if I can find a good group act, and so far, I've come up empty handed… until I came here. Belleview for me has always been a source of hidden talent. I found your father here almost twenty years ago, and the opera star Eva Gates."

At that moment Erik took in a deep breath. "Eva Gates?" He whispered, "As in the opera star, Eva Gates?"

"Yes. I worked with her and her husband." She answered, "I found Eva when she was a young girl, vacationing here with her family. She was singing in a local restaurant for some kind of open mic night, and I happen to walk in and hear her. So Belleview has always given me surprise talent. That's what I'm here to talk to you two about. I was wondering if, sometime in the next few weeks, I could meet with you again and we could talk about… maybe getting you to sing for a few small public events, and then penning out a deal."  
>"You mean," I gasped, "a <em>record<em> deal?"

"Yes." She said, "A record deal. With both of you involved."

I looked to Mrs. Gardens. "I need to talk about this with my, associates." I said shyly, realizing that I had to email my dad about this as soon as possible, "Mrs. Lockhart, is it okay if maybe we could exchange information, and I could perhaps get in touch with you after…"  
>"You get a hold of your parents?" She finished with a laugh, "Of course, I understand." She got out a small notebook from the black purse she had been carrying, and a pen. She jotted down her email and cell phone on a piece of paper for both of us, and then handed it to me. "That is my office number and my email. As soon as you sit down and talk with who you need to talk to, call me, all right?"<p>

I nodded, and burst into a smile. "Yes, I will! Thank you Mrs. Lockhart, thank you!"

"Dear, call me Quinn." She said, "Everyone, who I believe has talent, calls me Quinn. And thank you for the wonderful performance tonight. Now, you two have a party to get to, don't you?"

"Yes, we are expected." Erik said, "But it can wait if it needs to."  
>"Don't be silly. Stars always have to make an appearance at these things." She teased, "Go, and have fun. I hope to hear from you soon in the near future."<br>"You will." I said, and we shook hands again, "You have a good night Quinn."

"You too, Chris and Desmond. I will see you later."

With that she walked with Mrs. Gardens away from us, and Erik and I stood there dumbfounded. At last, when I was sure they were out of earshot, I let out a small scream of excitement, and jumped into Erik's arms for a hug.

"Oh my god!" I squealed, "Oh my god! I can't believe this!"

He laughed and kissed the tip of my nose. "Now I have to come out about who I am." He said, "Can you imagine it, Chris? The Kynaston and Davis offspring working together?"

"It'll be wonderful." I said, "We're wonderful. But are you sure you're ready for this?"

He nodded. "Yes. It's time to be a close on the solitude in my life. It's time for this chapter to be over, and for another to begin. You helped me change, darling. I want to show the world that."

Suddenly we heard behind us, "Erik, Chris, there you are! Come on, it's time to go to the party! Dad's letting me borrow the car, and he's riding home with Mom."  
>We turned around to face Maggie, who was waiting on us excitedly. We grabbed each other's hand and walked toward her.<p>

"Just let me grab my purse really quick Mags." I said, "And then, boy… do we have something to tell you!"

"What?" She asked, "What just happened?"

Erik smiled. "Maggie, wait till we're in the car to tell you. That way, no one will be able to hear you freak out."

I laughed, and gave him a quick hug. I could finally hear Erik's youth and free spirit begin to come out, little by little. And perhaps through that the pain of his past could be diminished a tiny bit, and then maybe one day with our music, we could diminish the ugliness, judgment, and cruelty in the world…

Little by little, and song by song.


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Five Months Later

I sat next to Erik in the backseat of Dad's Ranger rover, as we made our way slowly up the mountain road. The Vermont wilderness about us was covered in snow, almost like what one would see on a postcard. Even now, the white fluffy flakes of chill were still falling. I knew that this year, we were definitely going to have a white Christmas… which was a first for all of us involved on this trip.

Dad sat in the front seat, maneuvering the car carefully. I could see the back of his head covered in short, dark blonde hair. I was so happy to see him when he came back home in early August. He swore that he wouldn't be away from me for the rest of the year, and so far, he had kept his promise. Upon his return to Belleview, I realized a bit of him had aged. His blue eyes were tired looking, and the wrinkles around his forehead and mouth were beginning to show. Yet he gained his energy back after he was in Florida for a while, and being more involved with involved in my life seemed to help his peace of mind. At least he was now informed in what was going on with my crazy school life (being a senior now) and having a boyfriend.

I turned around to look behind our car and saw Maggie and her parents following us in their SUV. I waved to them, and Mrs. Gardens waved back from the front seat. Maggie saw me in the backseat and also waved. It was nice that they we were all invited up here to Erik's aunt's Vermont cabin for the holidays. But wait… I have some catch up to do now, don't I?

Four months ago, Erik had decided to get in contact with his family. He had no clue how to proceed with what he was going to do, and Mr. and Mrs. Gardens didn't have a clue either. So the first thing they did was find out where Erik's closest living relative, Lucy Gates, lived. This was his mother's sister, which made her Erik's aunt. This was the woman who had organized the charity auction that had put up Eva Gates' necklace, the one that he gave me and what I wore all the time. She also took care of all of his parents business, charities, and records that they still sold now. After looking on the internet for a while, Erik had managed to find an address where he could write to Lucy Gates, and later on that night, he penned out a letter for her, explaining who he truly was, what had happened to him, and apologizing for any shock that his words may cause her. He gave her Mr. and Mrs. Gardens' home number (it was decided he would continue to stay with them for a while) and an address, in case she wanted to write instead of call. I never saw the letter myself, but I guess it was about five pages, and Mrs. Gardens said it was well written. Erik put it in the mail the next day, and waited and prayed for a reply. Every day I came over to their house while they were in limbo, and the letter and his family were all Erik and I talked about. I tried to vanquish any fears he had, even though I wasn't sure how well everything would turn out. Would his aunt call him a liar? Would she denounce him from the family, and break his heart?

Three days later his phone rang, I was at the house, and sitting with Erik on the couch in the living room. The phone rang, and Mrs. Gardens answered it. In that moment, Erik's life changed forever.

"Erik!" Mrs. Gardens cried, running out of the room with her hand over the receiver, "Erik, it's one of Lucy Gates' reps. He wants to talk to you!"

Erik shot up and took the phone. "Hello?" He said nervously, speaking into it.

I couldn't hear what was being said on the other side of the conversation, so after squeezing Erik's hand in support, I walked into the kitchen where Mr. and Mrs. Gardens were waiting. We were in there about twenty minutes before Erik came back in, and set down the phone on its charger. "What did he say, Erik?" I asked.

He looked up, and gave a small smile. "He said that Lucy wants me to go to Washington DC, and get a DNA test done. This kind of claim has happened before, so they have to make sure this isn't a hoax. But if the test rings true… he said that she wants to meet me."  
>"When do they want you in DC?" Mrs. Gardens asked.<p>

"As soon as possible."

Mrs. Gardens nodded, and pulled out a small sticky note from her pocket. "I have his number right here Erik. I'm going to call him back, and tell him you'll be in DC in two days."

Preparations were quickly made, and sure enough, Erik was in DC by Friday. I couldn't go with him, since I had to watch the house and clean since Dad was coming home soon, but Erik called me on the hotel phone every night he was there. The first night in DC, he and Mr. Gardens stayed at the hotel, and then the next day he was taken to a nearby lab to get a sample of his DNA. He couldn't say where it was, since everyone was around to keep his visit under wraps in the public eye, but he did say it went well. He stayed in DC for the next five days, waiting for answer in his hotel room.

On the sixth day at noon, I got a call from Erik on my cell. I had been cleaning the kitchen when I heard my phone ring in the living room, and I bolted over to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Chris," Erik began, sounding out of breath, "Oh God, Chris…"

"Erik, what is it?" I asked calmly, "What happened?"

It was then I heard him burst into tears. "Chris, the DNA came back. Lucy Gates… now knows without a doubt, that I'm her nephew!"

I let out a scream of delight, and began jumping up and down. "Erik, this is wonderful!" I yelled, "I'm so happy for you!"

"She's coming here to meet me in two hours! I… I'll get to talk to her. Chris, I have family. Oh God, I have family." He let out a sob. "It's going to be okay now. I don't have to do this alone anymore."

I started crying with him. "It's okay, Erik. It's okay."

After Erik met Lucy Gates in the hotel that day, she had told him to call her Aunt Lucy, and that she had always cared about him and loved him. She had brought photo albums with her, full of pictures of when he was a young boy, with his mother and father. Erik had confessed that he had broken down seeing the pictures, and that memories of his happy life with his parents came flooding back. He even remembered more about Aunt Lucy, and the birthdays, weekends, and holidays they had all spend together as a family. They spent over six hours talking, and the next day, Aunt Lucy even brought him and Mr. Gardens to her home, so Erik could meet her husband, and his Uncle Peter. They ended up spending half a week being guests at her house (well, I guess it was more like a mansion, according to Erik) and when it was time him and Mr. Gardens to come home, it was decided Aunt Lucy would fly down to Belleview every weekend to visit him, and they would talk on the phone every day.

In the next three weeks a few things happened. The first thing was that my father came home, and he got to meet Erik. Before the big meeting I sat down with my dad and told him all about Erik, and who he truly was. I told him he had endured a sad life, but that he was a beautiful, strong person. I talked to my dad about his gifts as a musician, how treated me amazingly, and that he was a good guy. At first, Dad was upset that I kept so much from him while he was gone, but he got over it after meeting Erik and seeing that everything had turned out fine ( in his own words "Well, he's got a college education, he's financially stable, and he clearly treats you like a princess"). He really didn't have too much to complain about. He liked my boyfriend right off, and they even sat down and played violin together. It was nice to see Dad pick up his instrument after not playing for years. He was a bit rusty, but once he got used to how the violin felt in his hands, he was back to being the musician I had once seen as a kid.

The second thing that happened was that the press got wind of Erik's existence, and before people could start making up stories about him and publishing them, Aunt Lucy and Erik set up a press conference so that he could tell his own story, with nothing but the truth. He even admitted he was 'seeing someone', but he kept my identity safe and never mentioned it. Which… didn't make much of a difference anyway. They found out who the young blonde was standing in the back of the conference room watching him protectively. At least I didn't have any major secrets, or some type of scandal they would dig up about me (but boy, they tried)! So the media frenzy had been insane since then, but now things were dying down… and with perfect timing, seeing that it was Christmas.

So now, here we were, on December 20th driving up Aunt Lucy's cabin in the mountains. During Aunt Lucy's last visit to Belleview two weeks ago, she had shown us pictures of it, and it was gorgeous. It was about two stories tall, and it had six bedrooms, four bathrooms, a kitchen, living room, study, and dinning room. Everything was made out of wood, and had that old American rustic look… with a twist of the upscale. Let's put it this way: in the living room they had a huge couch that was shaped in a half circle, and looked like it could fit twelve people, with a large stone fireplace feet away. That was the rustic part. The upscale part was that there was a black iron chandelier hanging in the same room. All the areas of the house were like that. Like, the beds in the bedrooms were carved out of wood with a large headboard, but the quilted blankets were designed by Ralph Lauren. So while I knew we would be pretty much in the middle of nowhere, I knew we wouldn't be without some luxury.

Suddenly I was pulled from my thoughts by Erik's singing, and listened closely to see what he was harmonizing too. Josh Groban's _Silent Night _was playing on the radio, and the sound of their voices combining soothed me, while making my chest tighten with emotion. God, Erik had such a beautiful voice. I was glad that after I got out of school in May, Erik and I would start working on our CD for Firestone Records, and we could get our music out there. We called Quinn Lockhart a few days after Erik held his press conference, to see if she still wanted us to sign onto the record label and work with her, and she seemed more eager than ever to do it. She was even okay with Erik's real identity, but then again, why shouldn't she be? Working with the son of the most famous musical couple in history surely couldn't be a bad thing for her career.

"We're here!" Dad said suddenly, "Wow, look at that cabin!"

Erik and I peered out the window, and gasped. It looked better than it did in the pictures. It was a large cabin with a wrap around porch and wooden French doors. The front of the place was covered with windows, where you could see in to the rustic and posh interior. As we gazed at the large place, Erik's aunt and uncle came running outside to greet us, waving enthusiastically. Lucy had her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, and her blue eyes sparkled. She was a small, woman, now in her early forties, but she looked beautiful still. She was wearing jeans, a red sweater, and black coat with boots. Her husband was next to her, in brown boots, wearing a brown jacket zipped up with a hood, but you could see his graying hair sticking out underneath, and his green eyes sparkling.

We didn't even bother getting things out of the car right away, as soon as the Range Rover was parked, Erik and I opened the door, and dashed out of the car to say greet them. Erik and I had dressed warmly (both of us in sweater and jeans with boots), and I was glad for the coat and gloves I bought as soon the winter air hit me. It was ridiculously cold, but I loved it (and it made me slightly more thankful for the thick clothes I had bought online in preparation for this trip).

Immediately Aunt Lucy and Uncle Peter greeted us both with hugs. "It's so nice to see you here, darling!" Aunt Lucy said as she embraced Erik, "I'm so excited! This is our first Christmas here, with all of us together!"

"I know, it is exciting." Erik said, hugging her tightly. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, and he kissed her too. It was so sweet, I almost shed a tear. Uncle Peter gave me an embrace and greeting, and then Aunt Lucy got a chance to hug me.

"Hello, Chris." She said, "Is my nephew treating you well?"  
>"He always does." I laughed, "He's been a good boy."<br>"Good. You're a good girl to him. And you always look so pretty when I see you!" She kissed my forehead, and then looked over to see the Gardens family getting out of their car. "Everyone, let's go inside and warm up, before we get your things from the cars." She decided, "I have some hot cocoa on the stove right now anyway."

"Sounds like a plan." Mrs. Gardens said.

As a group we all begin to walk inside, but suddenly, Erik stopped me under the doorframe.

"Well, Chris," he said looking up, "What is this I see?"

I turned my head up, and saw that attached to the top of the frame, was a sprig of mistletoe. I looked back at Erik and smiled.

"You know very well what it is." I said.

"Why yes," he whispered, wrapping his arms around me, "yes I do."

At that moment he leaned in and kissed me, and my arms snaked around his neck. For a while we stood there in a passionate embrace, until Maggie yelled at us.

"Hey, stop sucking face you two, and come inside!" She said, "It's freezing out there."

Erik and I laughed, and backed away from each other. But he still kept one arm around my waist as we turned, and walked into a house full of light, warmth, laughter, and for the very first time for Erik, family and love.

**The End**

_**A Note from the Author: **_

_**My dear readers, right now I just want to say thank you for taking the time to read and review this story. When I first started writing this novel a year ago, I didn't know how well it would turn out. I felt such a deep connection with "The Phantom of the Opera" in the first place. I saw the movie when I was in 6th grade in theaters, and I loved it. I related to the Phantom immediately... since I understood what it was like to be an outcast. I was different than most kids my age. I was the kid who, instead of playing on the play ground, was reading Shakespeare. And I was ridiculed for that. I had shown some interest in writing before hand, but after I saw "Phantom", my writing blasted off into a frenzy of story after story. Because of Phantom, I found my gift. So here I am, years later, and I wanted to pay homage to "The Phantom of the Opera" and dear Erik... a man who's only true sin was being born in a time peirod where most people could not accept those who looked or acted 'different'. Even now, my heart breaks when I think of him. So when I began writing this novel, I thought to myself "I really don't want to screw this up." I wanted this to be meaningful, and for it to impact the reader. I knew I wanted to get this story published, so I decided to post it on this fan fic site, to gage the reactions of the audience.**_

_**Your support has been overwhelming. All of your reader reviews make me smile, and they have been nothing but supportive. I had NO idea my story would be this big, and I thank you for that! You all have made this story into something large to me. I have decided, yes, I will search for a publisher who would be interested in publishing my novel. I will have to delete my postings on the fan fic site soon if I'm going to make that happen, but I promise, I will post other stories. In fact... I just so happen to have one in the making right now. Or I might have two. Who knows? If you want to keep in touch with me, you might find out!**_

_**Anyway, thank you all again. I feel so blessed to have taken a chance with this story. You guys have made the risk worth it. Please, I do hope some of you keep following the work I do, and feel free to send me a message anytime. If you have questions about my novel, let me know. I want to answer anything that I can. **_

_**So, to conclude, God bless, and I hope to see you around the site.**_

_**~ Your truly, Diana Kay Warry**_


	39. Update

A Happy Update

Hey everyone! So... I have a surprise for you guys. Most of you all know I'm writing a Labyrinth fan fic with a friend of mine, Coffeelaced. But what most of you don't know is that I've been writing Phantom of the Opera fan fic for a while, and now the reader's note and first chapter are posted!

You can find it here: www. fanfiction .net/s/7259326/1/Sing_Me_A_Dream

Anyway, I hope you guys like it, and I can't wait to hear your reviews.

~Yours truly, Diana Kay Warry

PS- You'll have to type the link in physically and take out the two spaces! Sorry for the inconvenience!


End file.

Phantom of the Opera, Drama, Romance