25This is my sequel to "Point of No Return." I had the first chapter all typed up, and I hit save...and my Internet connection died. I lost the entire chapter. I was pissed. But I figured that I might as well start this now because for the next week I'll be SO busy. Prom is next Saturday, and I wasa fool and volunteered to be on the commitee and we have SO much left to decide on because there are mostly incompetent bitches on the committee. Also, I'm on the yearbook staff and done with my pages, but some other incompetent idiots aren't finished...and the are due next week! So I'm going to have to work on those pages. Grrr...
I woke up earlier than usual, even earlier than my father. But how could I sleep? Today was my seventeenth birthday! I was more excited for my party than anything, though. My party was going to be combined with the Vicomte Elijah de Chagny's party (he hated when I refered to him as the Vicomte, so I did it to irritate him) so it was going to be a splendid gala.
I got out of bed and danced to my closet. I decided just to wear a simple dress since I would be changing into a beautiful dress for my party. After I dressed, I sat down at my vanity and looked at my reflection. Everybody told me that I looked exactly like my mother. Even I had to admit, the resemblence was remarkable. I had been cursed with her curly hair, but mine was nearly black. My eyes were the same shape as my mother's, but I had my father's eye color. So with the exception of my hair and eyes, I looked exactly like her.
I sighed and sat back in my chair and started looking at the little mementoes that I'd saved over the years and at the pictures on my table.
I went over and picked up the picture of my Grandfather Gustaave, who my oldest brother was named after. Gustave had moved to London a year ago to become an architect, and from what he's told me in the letters that he's sent me, he is quite successful. My brother Dante had recently moved out of the house, as well, only he moved to a small flat in Paris. He was a very serious composer and wrote the most beautiful pieces of music. One of his operas was recently performed at the Opera Populaire and it sold out every night.
I picked up the small picture of my family. Papa did not like pictures of himself for the same reason he didn't like mirrors: his face. Mama insisted that he keep his mask off at home, but he was always worried about frightening me. He was convinced he was the most hideous man in the world, which was completely false. I had seen MUCH worse just walking the streets of Paris. Fat, balding, drunken men with crossed eyes and rotting teeth...the thought made me shutter.
I started looking through my mementoes next since I didn't have many pictures. I found my first pair of ballet shoes. I started doing ballet when I was very young, probably four years old. After thirteen years of dancing, I had become the prima ballerina at the Opera Populaire, which many of the girls blamed on my father owning the opera house. Mama said that they did the same thing whenever she was singing lead.
Next, I found a seven-year-old newspaper clipping announcing the marriage of my mother's best friend Meg to the Comte (who then was still the Vicomte) de Chagny. I could not figure out why they had married. They loathed each other entirely and fought constantly. It wasn't fair to their children, Elijah and Isabelle (who was five years old.) or to themselves.
Just then, I heard a little knock on my door. I looked over to see my brother standing shyly in the doorway. After I was born, Mama and Papa tried for five years to have another child, but they only had one miscarriage. Finally, a doctor told them that it was physically impossible for them to conceive. So it was toeverybody's suprise when she gave birth to a healthy baby boy on my fifteenth birthday. "Happy birthday, Erik!"
He smiled back at me. He was a doll. He had curly chesnut brown hair, which was a mess right now, andinnocent brown eyes. "Happy birthday to you, too, Maddy. Can you help me make breakfast because I'm hungry but Mama and Papa are sleeping and I don't want to wake them up and I can'tcook by myself. I'll start the house on fire." I smiled and took his hand.
"Tell me what you want and I'll try to make it for you."
Eh...it's not that great. Tell me if I should continue it or not, and feel free to leave suggestions. I know, the ending of the chapter is stupid, but it's after 1 and I have to get up early for school.