Two girls walked side by side through the hallway of the theater to the dressing room. The younger blonde had been going on for some time now talking. The girl with brown curls down to her waist was mostly pretending to be listening, caught up in her own thoughts.
"And then he said-Christine? Have you heard any word I said for the past 10 minutes?" The blonde stopped suddenly to question her friend who seemed to be in a daze.
"What? Oh I'm sorry Meg. I was just daydreaming I guess." She sighed and looked at the ground.
"Yes well, ok I forgive you-this time anyway!" Meg joked. "You have been a little out of it you know. During rehearsals for "Cinderella" and all. What's up?"
"Nothing, I've just been thinking of�" She drifted off. She couldn't tell Meg about the strange young man she had met the day she had went into the old theater's basement. She couldn't tell Meg. It would probably only scare her. She was only thirteen years old! Or it would make her get excited saying how awesome it was to have some mysterious man living in this very theater?
�Of what? Please tell me Christine! I am your best friend aren't I? Or do you still think of me as the youngest member in the school? The little baby? Just as everyone else sees me." The girl said, sounding pretty angry and hurt.
"No no Meg! I have just been-meeting someone."
"Um ok Christine. What's so strange about meeting a person? I mean there are a lot of people here!" The two young women walked into the room.
Since Christine was the star of the show, she was given a private room, with a huge full length mirror, dressing table and a small couch. Christine and Meg both took seats on the couch and Christine sighed.
"Well? Who is it then?" Meg asked impatiently.
"Well, I don't know if I should tell y-" Christine was cut off by someone knocking at the door. Slowly the door creaked open.
"Meg Giry! Are you a dancer? Then come and practice! Everyone else has already been warming up for 10 minutes now!" It was Miss Clark, the choreographer.
"I'm sorry, Miss Clark, I told Meg I needed to talk to her. It is my fault she didn�t come to rehearsals." Christine said apologetically.
"Quite all right, Miss Daaed." Meg and Miss Clark walked out, leaving Christine in her room, alone. But not really alone.
"I can't tell anyone about my lessons. No one. Meg won't understand." Christine thought to herself. "If only Father was more understanding." She thought. Her father hadn't been very understanding, he was far from it, all her life. He never seemed to know how Christine felt after her mother died. He loved her mother very, very much. But after her death, he became a cold, and depressed recluse. He could barely even raise his daughter because he seemed to wince every time he looked at her because she looked so much like his wife. She was even a wonderful singer like Christine�s mother had been.
"Erik? Can I come see you? I need to talk." Christine asked the empty room. Now, if a stranger had been in the room they would have thought Christine was crazy. But then, what happened no more then a minute later would have sent a stranger running out the door.
"Certainly, Christine. You know how to get here." A young man's voice floated throughout the room. The voice was gentle and clear, with a hint of an accent. Christine went over to her mirror and dragged her slim finger over the top of the frame. She gently pushed the small piece of wood and like magic, the mirror opened like a door. Christine walked in, and the mirror closed behind her.
