[Author's Note: The events that partake in this chapter are highly unrealistic as for the role of Christine takes months of preparation and rehearsals. This is purely for entertainment purposes since it is just an idea that popped into my head one day. Also, I do not own anything associated with the musical of The Phantom of the Opera. Enjoy!]

     My eyes shoot open when the sound of my alarm fills my small studio apartment on a Monday morning. For once, the annoying buzzing seizes to be so -well- annoying. I glance over at the flashing time of 8:00 a.m and press the off button. Relaxing into my pure white bedspread, I stare up at my immobile ceiling fan and think over what I have to do today.

     Since yesterday was a Sunday, which everybody in the Phantom production had off, I made it rather productive. I have a grueling History of Theatrics 103 final on Wednesday so I spent the whole of Sunday studying for it and then treated myself to an early night. I have never felt more rested on a Monday morning. 

     Let's see, today I have to sew new gems on the top of Kaley's slave girl costume and reattach a new layer of lace on Julia's wedding gown along with a new button on the bodice. That is just in addition to the usual ironing and steaming that I do everyday. 

     I throw the comforter off and get out of bed, the tiled floor of my apartment is cold on my bare feet. Rubbing my arms in an attempt to warm up I tip-toe over to the window to check the weather outside. New York City is notorious for brutal winters, and it is proven true today. With one peek through the curtain all I can see is a blanket of white covering the tops of skyscrapers and slush along the sidewalks in a dirty brown/grey color. This calls for my winter boots.

     Actually a bulky snowsuit would be better, but I'm a fashion major so that is basically against my morals.

     Shivering, I change out of my thin tank-top and shorts combination that makes-up my pajamas and put on an over sized knit maroon sweater, dark wash skinny jeans, and fake leather brown boots that go up to my knees. Their fleece lining make my feet feel warm and comfortable. On top of my outfit I slip on a black pea coat, matching black gloves, and a crocheted scarf I made when I was twelve. I smile as nostalgia brings back memories of cold winters back in my hometown of Lancaster, Pennsylvania. 

     Looking at my watch, I realize I better leave now if I wish to accomplish everything before the girls come in. The snow will undoubtedly slow me down since I usually walk to the theater, a mere twenty-two blocks away, which is a bit more than one mile. That is not far for a typical New York City commute. However I am seriously considering taking the subway since the snowflakes are heavy and border lining on white out. 

     Leaving my apartment I lock the door behind me and check my bag for change for the subway. 

- - -

     When I walk through the backdoor of the Majestic, I realize two things that could be considered problematic. One: it is quieter than usual. Two: the call board is surprisingly blank.

     The call board has never been almost empty. 

     Since I get here much earlier than most of the other backstage staff members my sign in section is usually almost empty. However, on Monday mornings the performers have 8 a.m. rehearsals so the actor and actresses's section is always filled, with the exception of a few names here and there. In fact, the only principle (out of the three main leads) who has checked in is Jeremy Hays. Julia Udine, Kaley Ann Voorhees, and Norm Lewis are- are gone.

     Quickly I scribble my signature and rush to the dressing room. Maybe they just forgot about the call board since it is so cold out and they wanted to warm up and take off their wet clothes and- and... Ugh it is all pointless rambles. They have been here long enough that they have established a basic routine. 

     I burst into the quaint space only to realize the air is stale and lifeless from the day off. 

     "No, no, no.." I mumble, dropping my bag and rushing to the stage. They could be rehearsing, they could be rehearsing, I repeat in my mind. 

     When I step onto the stage I realize that there is actually no rehearsal going on yet. But Holland, Jeremy Hays, and the rest of the cast (that are here) are huddled in meeting. None of the Christine's are present. 

     In the middle of her speech Holland looks up and sees me standing in the entrance of stage left. 

     "Oh, Annaleigh, hi. Come over here we are discussing the current predicament," she frowns and the crowd around her turns to look at me. A look of worry is etched into their tired features.

      Hesitantly I walk over to them, "What is the predicament exactly? I saw the call board and-"

     "All three of our Christines called in sick along with Norm Lewis. All four of our female swings, except for one, are held up in a crash on 97th Street. Damn carpooling. We only have one male swing that signed in, but I think that will be enough..." Holland trails off, looking away in deep thought. 

     I furrow my eyebrows and look at Jeremy Hays, mouthing, "What happened?"

     He leans down and whispers in my ear, "You know how we were all going to go out to that new sushi restaurant on 48th?"

     I nod, "But I couldn't go because I spent the day studying, you couldn't go because you wanted to spend the day with your wife, and Jeremy Stolle couldn't go because he was volunteering at a pet adoption clinic."

     "Well, apparently they were fed spoiled fish. They have been on the toilet since yesterday evening."

      My mouth drops open in surprise. Food poisoning? That cannot be they have to be here. 

     "Who ended up going?" I ask, although 99% of me is pretty sure I do not want to here his response. 

     "Elizabeth, Julia, Kaley, and Norm."

     He pulls away to pay attention to how Holland will handle this, leaving me there unable to move. How could I after hearing such news. We have nobody to play Christine, our main Phantom is gone and we have a limited amount of swings. Monday mornings truly are a terror.

     Holland looks as pale as the swirling snow outside, and I am afraid she may pass out from the stress that is now put on her. She has to make the decision whether to close down the show for tonight or to power through it somehow and someway. 

     "The show must go on," she stutters, probably racking through her brain for any idea of what to do. In her many years of being the production manager I am sure nothing of this magnitude has ever struck the theater. 

     Somebody from the ensemble raises their hand hesitantly.

     Holland rubs her temples, "Yes you, what do you have to offer."

     "Well, it seems the main issue is that we do not have somebody to play the roles of Meg and Christine. We could have the only present swing fill in for the young ballet girl and we could always call in a past actress to play the ingenue, somebody who already knows the role."

     I look around and realize that Kara Klein, who usually plays Meg, is also absent. She didn't get food poisoning so where is she? And her understudy?

     The production manager bites her lip, probably trying to see if this could work, "Well the only female swing we have here is a mezzo, so she would have to be Meg. However it could be fairly difficult to call in a Christine."

     We all stand around her in silence. It seems nobody knows what to say to the current predicament. 

     "Uhh, I will have my assistant grab a list of recent Christine's and we will see what we can do. Until then everybody go prepare for the show per usual." Holland wards us off with a flick of the wrist.

     Before I get the chance to retreat back to my room, a hand clasps onto my shoulders. I jump from shock and turn to see who needs me.

      "Annaleigh," it's Jeremy, "Do you know if any of the Christine's are feeling well enough to come in?" He knows how close I am to them, however my phone was off all of yesterday so I would not be distracted from my studying.

     I shake my head solemnly, "Let's hope Holland can pull through this one."

- - -

     About forty minutes after our meeting, I find myself sitting alone in the dressing room singing 'Think of Me' to myself. An assortment of green, yellow, and maroon gems lay in front of me along with Kaley's Hannibal slave girl costume. I am about to sew on the last green gem when a loud knock sounds at the door.

      I push the needle into the pincushion and rise to answer the door, however the guest lets himself in. 

     "I was intentionally here to tell you Holland wants to meet with us again..." Jeremy Hays trails off looking around the room, "Was that you singing?"

     Immediately my cheeks turn scarlet with an embarrassed blush, "I- I mean- well-" I stumble to explain, "Y-yeah? You could uh- hear me?" 

     He laughs, "These walls are kind of thin. No need to be caught off guard, I just thought it was a CD playing or something."

     "Oh," I offer an awkward laugh and turn away to hang the almost finished costume up, "No that was me." I smile softly to myself, thankful that he cannot see my expression, "I uh- minored in vocal performance."

     For a moment the room is silent and I almost think he left to go to the meeting. 

     However when I turn around I nearly run into him holding Kaley's countess dress up to me, "Oh gosh!" I yell and jump, not expecting him to be right behind me, "What are you doing?"

     "You are almost the same exact size as Kaley," Jeremy merely states.

     "So?" I contemplate.

     I take out this large box that has different sections in it for each color of gems and then start putting the ones from before away. In the midst of sorting each jewel I finally realize what Jeremy is implying. 

     "No," I refuse, "No way."

     "I am not saying you have to, I am just saying that you could be the one to save the show."

     I scoff, "You are being a bit dramatic, are you not? There are a ton of past Christines Holland can just call into play. They would actually know the part and the notes. I know nothing. There is no way I can just prance onto stage and be someone people would actually want to listen to."

     "Drama comes with the job, anyways, let's just go see what Holland has planned and go from there," he holds his hands out defensively.

     Rolling my eyes, I agree so that we could finally go see if there is a solution.

     My mind tells me to hope that Holland magically called in a replacement Christine, however my heart (cheesy I know) wants to take the daring chance and go on stage as the young ingenue and experience the magic in a whole new way.

     We stroll onto the stage and see Holland is on the phone in a fit of hysteria, a white board in front of her filled from top to bottom with names. Names I all recognize. The cast and crew who have shown up all look at her with furrowed eyebrows and crossed fingers.

     Defeated, Holland closes her flip phone with an exasperated huff and then puts her face into her hands. Her assistant pats her back and looks at the names drawn up on the white board:

*Mary Michael Patterson                                                                                                                                        *Sierra Boggess                                                                                                                                                  *Samantha Hill                                                                                                                                                               *Marni Raab                                                                                                                                                                     *Sarah Jean Ford                                                                                                                                                          *Julie Hanson                                                                                                                                                         *Elizabeth Loyacano                                                                                                                                    *Jennifer Hope Willis                                                                                                                                                     *Sandra Joseph                                                                                                                                                            *Trista Moldovan

     However all of the names have a thick black line through them. How could not one Christine be able to come?

     "So did you find anyone to fill in?" Jeremy asks curiously aloud. We are all thinking the same thing, and that is she did not find anybody.

     Holland lifts her head and puts up a strong front, "Um, no. Sierra Boggess is currently rehearsing for It Shoulda Been You, same goes for Samantha Hill and Les Miserables. Mary Michael Patterson is on her way to do a Les Miserables show down South and the rest of the Christines we either could not contact or they had no way of getting here on such quick notice.

    It seems that everything was silent then. Not a sound echoed throughout the theater as a feeling of hopelessness dreadfully empowers everybody. 

     "Does anybody in the ensemble feel brave enough to take upon such a huge role?" 

     I peer at Holland from beneath my eyelashes, not daring to let her see my full face. I could give away how much I want to be on that stage. But I can't be, I do not embody such talent. I do not deserve the most coveted role on Broadway. However I want it. I want it bad.

     The ensemble look abashed as they think about what it would mean to take up the open ended offer. I bite my lip as they talk among themselves softly. They would be much better in the role, they have more training and are used to the bright lights of the stage. 

     Ugh I wish I could just put myself out there instead of silently arguing with myself.

      "Annaleigh Griffith can sing it, sir," Jeremy yells out to catch Holland's attention before one of the ensemble members could ask for the role, "I mean- uh- madame?"

     The gathered crowd laughs and I cannot tell if it is from the corniness of his line or from the idea that I could possibly sing the role. 

     My eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights as Holland peers at me thoughtfully. I try to calm the irregular drumming of my heart as she puts a finger to her chin.

     "Uh, Holland. I would also like to try for the role," a loud yet squeaky voiced ensemble member  bravely suggests. Obviously she believes I will be a failure, but that just makes me want it more.

     "Ooh I see what we can do. Auditions!" the older woman's eyes light up, "Everybody else go take a seat in the audience. Annaleigh and Carla will stay up here for their performance. 

     I give Jeremy a look that means I will kill him later for this as he retreats to the red seats of the Majestic. 

     Holland turns to us, "Okay. You both will sing a segment of Think of Me, I will accompany on piano but that is all. No fancy orchestrations." The ensemble member, whose name I guess is Carla, and I both nod in response. The older woman walks over to the piano and sorts through the fat folder of music until she pulls out the five sheets that make up the desired song. 

     "Okay..." she trails off examining the music, "You guys will start from 'think of me, think of me waking silent and resigned..' you know the drill, hopefully. and when Raoul's part comes along... Jeremy Hays!" she calls to the curly blond who is lounging in the audience.

     "What?" he shouts back, not bothering to get up from his comfortable position.

     Holland beckons him up with her hands as she takes a seat on the wooden piano bench, testing out the ivory keys, "Do you guys need any time to warm up the vocal chords?"

     While I answer with a rather prominent 'yes', Carla shakes her head with a confident 'no'. This takes me aback since she is an ensemble member and must know the importance of a hearty warm up. 

     "Fine, then Carla you can go first and Annaleigh you will follow after."

     Just then Jeremy arrives at the piano, "You called me?"

     Holland nods a bit distractedly, "Yes, you will be singing your part in 'Think of Me' for each of these girls. Carla is doing the honors first."

     Carla walks to center stage positively as Jeremy leans down to whisper in my ear, "Just hit the cadenza and don't slide into the notes." Then he leaves, as if he had never spoken to me at all.

     I begin a breathing exercise as I exit stage left, leaving Carla and Jeremy the stage. She starts singing loudly. I understand the importance of volume and power, but it sounds like she is straining her voice, even though this part isn't all that high.

     "There will never be a day, when I won't think of you-"

     She tries to go for the note, however the vibrato she enforces on it sounds way too pushed. I suspect that she is trying to use the vibrations to cover up how flat she was on that note. 

     I switch to an annunciation exercise while Jeremy sings to Carla. Listening to his smooth voice makes Carla's tone seem- well- awful. 

     And I am not one for insulting others.

     Quickly I do a few scales, making sure each note is pristine and not forced. The last thing I need to do is sound as bad as the wannabe Christine out on stage. I shudder a bit when she starts to ascend the cadenza. To my horror Carla chooses to go for the Claire Moore cadenza, rapidly increasing the pitch of the notes until she reaches the final one. Or- what should have been the final note but is horribly out of tune. 

     There is no way she is a soprano. Maybe a low mezzo border-lining alto, but definitely not suited for the higher range. She could actually make a cute Meg, I observe as I peer at her heart-shaped face with soft brown doe eyes. Definitely the physique of a young ballerina. There is a mirror hanging on the dark brick wall of the backstage area, and I check my own features in it.

     My bright blue eyes look nervous while my straight nose resembles my Polish background. My straight dark hair reaches the middle of my back, the bright pink streak a fresh reminder of who I am. My naturally light pink lips are parted slightly as I do one more scale. 

     Behind my lackadaisical notes I hear a soft, but respectful, applause. My eyes widen and I have to wipe my palms on my jeans to rid them of the sweat that has accumulated. I lick my lips worriedly. It would not be a feat to beat Carla, but it would be a feat to earn the actual spot. 

     I step onto the black stage, my steps timid unlike Carla's cocky prance. 

     "Beat that, dresser girl," she sneers quietly so that only I could hear her.

     I roll my eyes and continue the walk to center stage, looking out at the almost all empty maroon seats. The minimal cast looks at me expectantly, some of them whispering to each other and laughing. Paranoia irks inside of me, wondering what- or rather who they are laughing at.

     I nod at Holland and she starts to play the opening to 'Think of Me'. It is slower than I am used to, probably to make sure I feel comfortable with the melody. 

     Little does she know I performed this song for my high school talent show. I was only 17 then, and had barely taken any voice lessons. Now, look what's become of me.

     "Think of me, think of me waking silent and resigned," I start to croon, trying not to use so much vibrato that my words get swallowed up like Carla's, er, performance. I also make sure my consonants are sharp, a very important skill to remember when singing anything. 

     "Imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind!" I start to get into the performance, knowing this song like the back of my hand. 

     I start to walk around the stage, looking at the top of people's heads and not directly into their eyes like I was taught in college, "Think of me, please say you'll think of me. Whatever else you choose to do... There will never be a day when I won't think of you!"

     I throw my hands into the air, hitting the note rather well. My vibrato comes naturally and does not falter or get caught in my throat, which could be dangerous and sound like a toad. I am auditioning for Christine NOT Carlotta.

     Jeremy takes a few steps towards me and starts his rendition, "Can it be, can it be Christine?" He genuinely smiles and claps his hands enthusiastically, "What a change! You're really not a bit, the gawkish girl that once you were..."

     Original lyrics?

     "She may not remember me, but I remember her-"

     I twirl away from him blindly, not even realizing how much I am getting into it, "We never said, our love was evergreen or as unchanging as the sea, but please promise me that sometimes you will think..." matching his lyric change.

     I ascend the cadenza carefully, knowing that this is the point where Christine shows her true talent. The crowd wants to know how well her mysterious tutor, the Phantom, has taught the young ingenue. Rather tastefully, I have chosen the original Brightman cadenza. After all, that is the one Broadway uses. 

     Hitting the final note before descending the famous cadenza, I enjoy how it rings throughout the nearly barren theater. It doesn't do that in my bathroom in my apartment. My own teacher has taught me well, however in college and high school I have never had a lead part. I have earned some supporting roles and ensemble appearances, but was never the one to shine in the limelight. 

     "Me!" I finish, mimicking the choreography that is used in the show by throwing my hands up in the air and basically "body slamming" the stage. 

     For a bit nobody moves or claps as the theater is eerily silent. I'm afraid that maybe I wasn't as good as I thought. Then, everybody starts to clap. It is not the thunderous applause I sometimes dream about, but it is an applause. For me. The dresser girl.

     Holland walks over to me and shakes my hand, "You were marvelous darling."

     I blush bashfully and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, "Well, thank you that means so much I-"

     "Would you like to take upon the role?" she asks excitedly. She has found her solution, and I am the savior.

    "O-of course!" I agree, smiling and shaking my head unbelievably. Is this truly happening?

    Suddenly, Holland bursts into a long rant about how the show tonight will work, "Okay, so first off we have to organize the roles and decide who will play each one. Of course, Jeremy Hays will remain in the role of Raoul and you will be Christine. I was thinking Jeremy Stolle would be the Phantom. We can have the female swing play Meg. I believe the principal Madame Giry is here along with Carlotta. The Piangi was indeed held up by the crash so a male swing will play his role and another will be Passarino, the part in which Jeremy Stolle usually graces.... Yes, yes this can do." Her tone is excited. We may actually pull through this disaster. 

     I nod as she continues, "As for the choreography and lyrics/notes/music- you will have to go through a crash course in that starting ASAP. First off you have to go see if any costumes fit you well and in-case they don't- well, we do have time to make slight alterations if necessary. Then you will go to Leon to see if there are wigs that can fit you. Each one is made to personally suit each Christine's head, therefore they are not always interchangeable." she sighs tragically, "We will just have to cross our fingers."

     "Trust me, my fingers have been crossed since before the audition," I laugh softly, my head still in the clouds, "If it makes you feel any better, I know all of the lyrics by heart. The choreography however, ehhh not so much. Since I have been here for a few months I do know a lot of the cues, so perhaps that will help in the long run."

     "Oh, deary I hope it does," she smiles and pats me on the shoulder, "Now GO! We have 11 hours until that curtain rises!"

    The thought is terrifyingly beautiful.