Phantom of the Concert Hall

That next morning, Christine found herself at the airport, luggage at either of her sides. She had been up for most of the night, torn between leaving and staying. She had been unable to force herself to think rationally and stay in New York with Paris dangling at her fingertips.
She simply could not forget the wonderful internship that had been placed at her feet.

So here she was, alone and nervous as a cat as she waited to be checked by the customs department.

After what seemed like hours of security checks, and long unruly lines, Christine finally boarded the plane. She settled into her first class window seat of the 747, and tried to relax. She had never flown before, and the idea did not please her. Instead of focusing on the coming plane ride, she tried to lean back and focus on the good aspects of her trip.

First there was Europe. She'd always dreamed of Paris, ever since she was a child, reading books about the Eiffel Tower. This was her chance to finally see that grand monument.

Then there was perhaps landing that job at the Met. She had always dreamed of becoming a ballerina there. This field work was her ticket to stardom. And she was more than willing to help make those dreams come true, no matter what.

"Ahem."

Christine looked up to see a girl staring down upon her.

"Can I help you?" She asked. The girl smiled.

"Oh no. This seat beside you is mine. I just thought it would be better to announce my presence before I simply sat down and scared the living daylights out of you." She laughed. The girl smoothed out her skirt and then sat down.

She was blonde, petite, and graceful. Her blue eyes held a kindness in them that made Christine instantly at ease. She turned to Christine and extended her hand.

"Meg Giry." She said simply. Christine took her hand and squeezed it.

"Christine Davenport." She offered. Meg nodded and released her hand.

"Please pardon my forwardness, but are you French?" Christine asked. Meg laughed.

"I guess I do not hide my accent very well. Yes, I am from Paris." Meg said.

"You speak excellent english though." Christine added. Meg brightened.

"Thank you! It is nice to be told that by an American." She said. Meg reached down into her intp her bag and pulled out a leather bound book. Gold trim graced the front cover with her name, Meghan Giry. Next to it was an engraved figure of a ballerina. Christine pointed to it.

"Do you dance Meg?" She asked. Meg nodded, the smile never leaving her face.

"Ia m a chorus ballerina at the Paris Opera." She stated. Christine leaned back in her chair with a sigh.

"My dream is to become a ballerina in the opera." She replied. Meg squeezed her hand.

"Hopefully that dream shall come true for you. Is that why you are traveling to France?" She asked, opening the cover of the leather booklet. It appeared to be her journal.

"Sort of. I'm completing my neccessary field work so that I may be considered for a spot in the chorus line at the Metropolitan Opera House here in New York." She answered, turning to look at her new companion.

"I see. What exactly is this field work you are completing? An internship i'm assuming." Meg asked, as she busily scratched along in her journal.

"Precisely. I'm touring with some rocker named Phantom or something or other." She sighed.

Meg slammed the cover of her book shut.

"Are you really? My mother is the Phantom's tour manager!" She squealed.

Their conversation was interrupted by the voice of the pilot over the intercom. They were about to take off. The girls fastened their seatbelts and readied for take off. Christine tried hard not to focus on the plane, but on her and Meg's conversation.

Meg leaned toward Christine as the plane thundered down the runway.

"Because my mother works for the Phantom, I'll be on the tour as well." She whispered.

Christine smiled, grateful that she had a potential friend along the way.

"Small world, isn't it?" She murmured, digging her fingers into the arm rests as the plane rose from the runway.

"Tell me about this Phantom person. He's not well known in America, but then again, rock music is my cup of tea." Christine admitted.

Meg shrugged. "There is not much to tell actually. No one really knows anything, not even his fans. He doesn't reveal too much about himself." She responded, rummaging through her bag. She pulled out a package of crackers and offered some to Christine, who took a couple.

"That's very odd Meg. I wish there was more that you could tell me about him." Christine declared as she popped a cracker into her mouth.

Meg swallowed. "I wish there were too. I've been around him most of my life and he's a perfect stranger. Only maman knows anything about him. I do not even know his real name." She said sheepishly.

Christine was starting to have real concerns about this Phantom. No one even knew anything about him. How was she supposed to be his intern?

The attendants came down through the aisles and informed the passengers that they were on final descent to Paris, and that they should fasten their seat belts once more.

Well here she was. About as informed as she was before she started. But at least she had made a new friend.

She looked down onto the city of Paris, growing ever larger every second.