Little Vipers

The Opera Populaire was my home. I had lived and worked here with my Poppa for some time now. The other stagehands constantly told me that the rafters and rigging of the backstage were no place for a boy so young, but my Poppa let me stay and help. What did they know anyway? Certainly not that I was actually eighteen, or that I was no boy. There was a lot about me, Charlotte Simon, that nobody but my Poppa knew, now that Mother was gone.

"Poppa, stay away from the dressing rooms." I chided, skipping along the empty hall and pulling him by the hand.

"Stop that foolish skipping, Lottie." Joseph Buquet, my Poppa, warned me as I lead him along, "And hide all your damned hair before one of the other hands sees you."

"Yes Poppa." I said, obediently stuffing my long brown hair into my cap with some difficulty.

"And don't call me Poppa." He added, "Act more like boy, won't you?"

"Yes Father." I corrected as a group of dancers glided past, giggling at me. I pulled the rim of my cap farther over my face. Poppa clapped a hand onto my shoulder, causing a cloud of dust to puff into the air, and my nose. I sneezed, and just barely caught my cap before it slid off my head. Poppa laughed at me.

"Oh Lottie." He chuckled quietly, leading me over to the backstage stairs, "You aren't much of a boy."

"The dancers seem to think so." I said with a slight smirk.

"Those girls will believe anything you tell them." Poppa countered.

"I know." I agreed, "I don't like acting like a boy. If I could be myself and still keep this job, I would."

"You know you can't, dear." Poppa said.

"Would Mother have been more pleased to see me as a dancer? Or a singer?" I asked for what must have been the thousandth time.

"No." Poppa admitted, "I think she would be very happy with this little game you play."

"This is no game!" I said, pouting, "I take my job very seriously."

"You suck in that bottom lip, young man." Poppa said sternly, but with a slight smile, "And get to your post; show's starting soon."

Later:

"Charlie, the Aria's coming up." A man told me as he passed in the darkness of the backstage.

"Oh, thank you Monsieur!" I said, running across the rafter I was sitting on to a staircase. I tromped down the steps, making much more noise in my heavy boots than I should have, and catapulted out into the railing next to Poppa.

"Hush, you silly girl." He said in a whisper, since no one was close enough to hear him, "The Aria's started already."

"Yes Poppa." I said quietly, unable to drop the huge smile across my face. The Arias of the operas were always my favorite to listen to. They were also the easiest to understand.

"She's very pretty, Poppa." I said.

"She's new." He replied, "Christine Daae is her name."

"About time someone replaced that Carlotta toad." I said to myself, smiling.

The new starlet finished her solo and was rewarded with a standing ovation and rose after rose. I applauded her while the other stagehands began to tear down the set.

Seeing someone who was previously unknown succeed so completely made me feel happy. Those girls were so brave. I couldn't do that. I'd never been much of a singer, and I couldn't dance at all; but somehow working in this opera house just seemed to click with me. I just got the feeling, as soon as my Father and I came to Paris, that I was meant to be here.

For what, I still didn't know. Not yet at least.