The Opera Ghost

At exactly 7:00 am the following day, numerous alarm clocks and cell phones rang out in various tunes and bells, waking the sleeping dancers in the dorm. The girls moaned groggily, not wanting to be disturbed by the loud noises, but also knew that strict punishment would be waiting for them if they were not dressed and ready to dance in the auditorium by 8:00.

Liana sighed from her bed in the back. Even though she did not have much experience with ballet, she knew that she had to take all of the classes as well. It was part of the agreement that her and Mademoiselle LaViola had come up with. She pushed her covers off of her and scratched her head sleepily, knowing that she needed a brush in a bad way.

“Nice hair.” Liana heard someone say, but could not be sure of who exactly said it: there were many girls in the room, and they all looked at her with disdain.

Liana ignored the comment, and made her way over to her armoire, pulling open its wooden drawers and pulling out her old black leotard and pink tights. The required uniform for ballet, and the only thing that Mademoiselle would allow in her studio.

Next was the bun, and, thankful that Mademoiselle allowed hair nets to keep in stray hairs, Liana took out her brush and stood in front of the mirror. She put her hair into a high ponytail, and then wrapped it tightly around itself, forming a messy, but acceptable bun. The hairnet was wrapped around it, and was soon followed by many bobby pins. A few minutes later, she stared at herself triumphantly and satisfactorily, proud of what she had accomplished.

Once she was finished, she found that it was 7:48, and made her way, like many other girls in the room, to the door at the end of the hall. Liana merged into the already awaiting crowd in the hallway, where Madame Bellamont was waiting patiently with her head held high. She appeared to be looking for a particular student and, figuring that it was most definitely not her, Liana walked to the back of the crowd.

“Ms. Liana Erikson?” Madame called out, and Liana stopped dead in her tracks.

Me? She wondered to herself, staring at the ground in awe. What could she want with me?

Liana turned around and bit her lip. “Yes, Madame Bellamont?”

“You will not be attending my lesson,” she told her, pursing her lips as if it was the last thing that she wanted.

Liana felt slightly relieved, but also curious. Why was she not allowed to take her class?

“You will follow me to where you will be taking private lessons,” she began, then turned her head to the rest of the girls who were all glaring at Liana with insane jealousy. But Liana was sure they were all thinking the same thing as she was; why her? “The rest of you will continue on into zee auditorium, vere you will go onto zee stage and vait for me. If any of you are caught doing anything deemed inappropriate, you vill be sent ‘ome. Immediately.”

The girls nodded their heads, showing that they understood, but also showing that they did not like it.

“Good.” Madame made her way over to the girl she singled out and stared down her nose at her. “Follow moi.”

Liana did as she was told, and did not dare turn around, for she was afraid that one of the girls would throw something at her. Instead, she stared at her feet and at the white marble, until it turned into aging brown wood. She looked up at Madame.

“Excuse me, Madame.” She added the Madame part at the last second. “But, where exactly are you taking me? And why me? Is this about last night? If it is, I am sorry-”

“You ‘ave been chosen over zee dozens of girls ‘ere to perform a special ballet piece at next weekend’s recital,” Madame told her, avoiding Liana’s questions. “You will be instructed by one of zee greatest ballet teachers of our time.”

Liana had an inkling that Madame was referring to the man who had chastised her last night.

They began climbing dusty wooden stairs to an upstairs floor that liana did not know the building even had. Madame Bellamont pulled out an old iron key and placed it into the lock, which clicked and allowed her to push open the creaky door.

“In,” she instructed, but did not follow Liana inside.

“Madame?” Liana asked, trying not to let her fear get to her.

What fear, you may ask? The fear of being locked up in the same room as some strange man who had been watching her the night before.

“I vill come and get you at 11 o’clock for lunch,” she told her.

“But that is three hours!” Liana complained. “All of the other girls only have two!”

“You need more instruction than zee other girls,” she retorted, then shut the door, leaving her all alone in the room to wait for this man.

But she did not know that, just like last night, a man was watching her from the shadows, seeing what she could do.

He watched as she took a deep breath, her small chest moving up and down as she did so. She rolled her shoulders and head around, and then proceeded to the bar against the wall across from the large mirror that overtook the wall.

Liana took a good look at her surroundings. It was an old room, more like an attic than a dance room. Bare wooden revealed itself along the walls, and in the corner there were two small, stained glass windows that stood perpendicular to each other, creating a mural of colors onto the floor. She put her hand on the metal practice bar and pulled her leg onto the top bar to stretch it out. Once done with her left leg, she moved on to her right. Liana had never understood it, but she was always much more flexible on her left leg than her right, and therefore preferred to stretch the left one first. She assumed that it was because she was right handed, and so her right side was more dominant than her left. Although, that would not explain why she could only do cartwheels on her left side.

The girl slid her way down to the floor and tried her splits, starting wither her left leg. She was notably closer to the ground on her left one than her right.

The man’s heart almost stopped when he heard her begin to hum the overture to the Phantom of the Opera, for it was by far his favorite musical of all time. He could listen to it forever. Not to mention the likeness between he and the story’s main character.

Liana stood up and was thoughtful for a moment, until she suddenly turned into preparation for a chaîné. She did two, but performed the second one in plié, which lead into a nearly perfect capezio leap. Her form was a little shabby, but it was definitely a step up from her one from the previous night.

The girl seemed so surprised that she did not fall, that when she landed, she stared at the mirror, shocked.

“Brava, mon cher.” The praise echoed through the room, causing Liana to jump, quite visibly. “Do not be afraid. I am your new teacher. Let us begin this lesson.”

Liana recognized the voice as the man from last night.

“Um, sir,” she began, unsure of what to call this mysterious man and not wanting to offend him. “I have a couple of questions before we begin.”

“Make them quick,” he told her impatiently. “And you shall address me as Monsieur Fantôme.”

“Monsieur Fantôme,” Liana whispered to herself quietly, knowing exactly what it meant in French. It was a cognate. “Ahem, well, first of all, why me?”

“Because, girl, as I said before,” he began, his tone not changing. It was as if he expected the question. “You have potential. At the moment, you are just a small bird, waiting for its chance to fly. I will be the one to give you your wings.”

The girl seemed taken back. What he said sounded like pure poetry. If she could have seen his face, she was sure that his eyes would have been glassy.

“Oh,” she said lamely, but continued on anyway. “Well, are you ever going to show yourself to me?”

There was no response.

“If so,” she continued, her voice getting quieter. “Then how do you propose that you are going to teach me? I am not very good with technical terms…”

“If a time comes where you do not understand what I am trying to teach you,” he finally said. “Then I will call over Madame Bellamont. She will assist me when she is done with those…other girls.”

Liana remained silent for the remainder of the lesson, and tried her best to listen to Monsieur Fantôme’s instructions. She had not been fully truthfully with her teacher; yes, it would be hard trying to perform everything he told her to, but she also wanted to see what he looked like. His voice sounded so dark, so mysterious, so…intriguing. She would ask again, but later. She was sure that he was eager to begin her lessons.

The lesson had finished after three, long hours, and Liana was exhausted. Her leotard was drenched in sweat, and her arms and legs were wobbly from all of the exercises. She was surprised at how patient he was with her, compared to how impatient he had been before. He talked to her kindly, and gently, but most certainly did not take it easy on her.

Liana reached for the door knob once he had dismissed her, but was stopped.

“Tell no one about this,” Monsieur Fantôme told her strictly and fiercely. “You are to tell anyone that asks that I am another ballet instructor, teaching you exercises. No shall know about me beside from you and Madame Bellamont.”

“Yes, Monsieur,” the shy girl promised, bowing her head.

And then she left.

Liana did not know what to think of her new teacher. He was brilliant, indeed. The way he would explain to her how to hold her leg a certain way, or exactly where to hold my hand just the right way so that it looks graceful, yet comfortable, was quite amazing. This man could explain anything to her. But there was also something odd about him. The way he talked to her seemed almost…loving, at times.

Of course, it must be just me imagining things again. I do like to fantasize.

Naturally, when she returned to her dorm, the girls had been curious, but were not willing to give up their pride and go up to Liana and ask her about her private lessons. Instead, the all stared at her curiously, as she walked past them all. Liana changed quickly and self-consciously, facing the mirror, aware that the other girls were still watching her. She was happy to have fresh, clean, and dry clothes on when she headed off to lunch, but realized that there was another snag to her happiness; where was she going to sit? Obviously, none of the girls here were going to want to be anywhere near her. She supposed that the small table in the corner of the cafeteria would have to do.

Liana went to the end of the lunch line, holding a tray to her chest nervously. She was hoping that they would have food that she liked. When it was finally her turn, the lady behind the counter glanced at her, and then did a double take. She dropped the ladle in her hand full of…Liana didn’t quite know what it was, but she dropped it and it landed with a ‘sploosh.’

She returned a moment later with a bowl of salad and some slices of French bread. The old lunch lady held the tray back to her with shaky hands, and Liana took it cautiously. She did not know what to think of the event as she sat down alone at the table she had picked out beforehand, but when she sat down, she realized that underneath the napkin, mixed in with the plastic forks, was a small red rose that had yet to bloom. Tied around its center was a black ribbon, and she immediately knew who it was from.

Monsieur Fantôme had arranged this. But why am I so special? I do not deserve such special treatment.

This made her want to see his face even more than she had before. She knew that she was his, and he was hers, their own little Phantom of the Opera story going on. But this was different. Liana had no Raoul.

Even though they had had only one session together, Liana knew that it would be long until this hidden man had captured her heart. His kind voice, his poetic heart, and his utter brilliance would pull her in. She only wished that she could see him, and hoped that there was not a huge age difference between them, as in the real story.

One could only hope.