I am sitting beside my mother, who is beside my father. Josiah and Evelyn are sitting across from us. Ryder is seated in the seats facing forward. He is close to the window, staring out of it. He hasn't said a word, and we've been driving for about 20 minutes; the Lincoln Center Theater isn't far from the hotel, but the traffic has made our trip longer.

"So have you guys ever seen the play before?" Evelyn asks us.

"No, we haven't." My mother answers.

"But we have been to the lincoln theater before. When we came out here for our anniversary, we saw Romeo and Juliet there." My father says.

"Ahh, one of Shakespeare's greatest creations," Josiah says.

"I've been hearing a lot about that play lately. How did you all feel about that teacher assigning the kids that for their senior project? Are you letting Jayda do it?" Evelyn asks.

"Oh, no. It's a great play, but we didn't feel comfortable with Jayda studying a play that glorifies suicide. Or that makes it seem like suicide is ok if you're doing it for the right thing." My father explains wrongly.

That is not what it's about; the story does not glorify suicide.

"Suicide isn't something we want her reading about." My mother adds. A small laugh comes from Ryder. I look over at him. He is staring directly at me. I hope he doesn't say anything. I'll be in so much trouble if my parents find out he knows.

"We agree. If Ryder weren't nineteen, we wouldn't let him do it either. But he wants to; it's his choice. A book that praises something like suicide should definitely not be read by hormonal, emotional teens in high school." Josiah says.

"Romeo and Juliet don't glorify or praise suicide," I say, finally bursting. Everyone looks at me.

"Oh?" Josiah says, question my statement.

"It's not a romantic play. The story isn't about two teens who love each other, but they can't be together, so they kill themselves." I explain. "That's not at all the point Shakespeare was trying to convey. The play is a tragedy, not a love story." I clarify.

"If Juliet had woken up a second faster and Romeo saw she was alive, they wouldn't have killed themselves. They would've run far away from Verona Beach, never looking back. But that couldn't be because once again, this story isn't a romance story or a fairy tale; it's a tragedy." I emphasize the word tragedy; I feel like most people forget that.

"The story doesn't praise suicide. The story's point was to show how other people's actions affected the ones around them, even when they think it doesn't. The story was a tragedy because the two families couldn't overlook their feud with each other for the ones that they love. It took something as tragic as suicide to bring the two families together. That's why the last line in the play isn't, 'And they lived happily ever after, even though that there dead' The last line in the play is 'For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.'"

Josiah and Evelyn both look at me with a shocked but pleased expression. Josiah smiles and says, "Smart girl, you have here," to my father.

"Too smart." My father replies.

...

We are standing in line, waiting to be let in. The line is so long it wraps around the corner; we are upfront close to the door. When we first arrived, my eyes scanned the long line looking for Alexander, but then I realized he would be inside. If he were a part of the show, he wouldn't be standing outside. If he's even here at all, he never told me exactly what he goes to Julliard for. I'm sure not everyone who goes to Juilliard is participating; he's probably not here. I hope he is though I would like to see him again.

My parents and the Adams are standing in front of me, discussing the dinner arrangements later. I wish they would've told me we were going with people. Why didn't they tell me the Adams was coming to New York also?

All-day, I was looking forward to it just being them and me. I was looking forward to this trip because I wanted it just to be us. I thought we would finally be able to spend time together, just like the old days, when they would come home for the weekends and spend the whole weekend with me.

I hear my phone ring. I open up the little black purse my mother let me borrow; Caleb is calling me. I quickly hang it up. He texts immediately right after I decline his call.

*Jayda, please call me -Caleb

After reading the message, I put my phone back into the purse; I'll call him later; I can't avoid him forever.

Ryder is standing right behind me. I'm surprised he hasn't said anything to me. Not a word; I thought by now he would've made some type of smart remark towards me or said something about the fight. But yet he hasn't.

Maybe he's mad at me. I mean, I did beat up his girlfriend.

Even though he hasn't said anything, he is staring at me. My back is towards him, but I feel his eyes on me. Not being able to take his burning glare anymore, I turn around. "Is there a reason you keep looking at me? If you have something to say, you mine as well just say it." I say to him.

He looks down at me; even with heels on, I am nowhere near his height. His whole body towers over me. "Do you want me to stop looking at you?" He asks.

"Yes, yes, I would; you're distracting me," I say.

"Distracting you from what? Standing." He growls. I roll my eyes at him and turn back around. "Are you ok?" He asks.

I'm taken back at his question. He's asking me, am I ok? He's concerned about me? Wait, no. He said I shouldn't over-analyze the things he says. He isn't worried; he's probably just trying to make conversation or trying to bait me in.

"Why do you care?" I ask, still facing forward. "Did you ask your girlfriend, if shes ok?"

"I did; she's fine. Now I am asking, are you ok?"

I smirk and say, "I'm fine." and then I add, "I beat up your girlfriend."

...

We are sitting up top, in the box seats—the seats overlook hundreds of people on the ground floor level. The theater is packed; I'm looking at the stage, watching people set up. It's eight fifty; the show should be starting in about ten minutes. I'm excited, I've never seen Phantom of the Opera before, I've heard of it though, but I don't know much about it, the only thing I know about it is that it is a musical and a book, surprisingly I have never read the book before.

I hope I'm able to enjoy it. Sadly I'm stuck sitting on the end right beside Ryder. He better not distract me. Or say anything to me.

Right now, he is on his phone, texting someone, probably telling Ashely that I'm here with him in New York. I wonder if he knew I was going to be here.

"Son, you have to turn your phone off," Josiah says from down the row. Ryder ignores him; I know he heard him; if I heard him, Ryder had to hear him. We are right beside each other. "Ryder." His dad calls him.

Ryder leans forward and says, "It hasn't even started."

"It will." His father says back.

"Well, when it does, I'll turn it off." Ryder leans back and slumps in the chair. His legs are so long that it hits the balconies wall in front of us.

I don't think I turned my phone off. I take it out of my purse. As soon as I do, it rings; it's Travis. I stare at the call for a minute and then hang up.

"Why is he calling you?" Ryder says sternly. I don't answer him. I hold the button on my phone and shut it off. I stick it back in my purse. "So, are you not going to tell me who that guy is?"

"It's none of your business," I say to him. The lights in the theatre start to dim, and everyone starts to get quiet.

"Fine, you don't have to tell me. I'll figure it out for myself." He whispers in my ear.

I don't look at him; I just continue staring at the stage.

....

"Ugh, when will this be over." Ryder groans.

"Shhh." I quiet him.

"You know if I were here with someone else... in the dark, we wouldn't be watching a play," he says.

"Oh, and what would you be doing?" I whisper.

"Other things." He says in my ear. He can't see my face, but I am rolling my eyes at him. Of course, he would be doing other things instead of paying attention to the wonderful play that is being shown to us.

I love it. Why have I never watched this before? Another play that, in a way, I relate to, excluding the whole murderous part.

But the Phantom is someone who is hiding behind a mask, someone who is hiding because he does not want people to see his disfigured self. I'm not disfigured on the outside but on the inside; I'm all messed up. That's why I try to stay away from people and why I don't get close to people because I know if I get too close, they will see me, they'll see the disfigured me.

A man walks out to the stage. He has a violin in his hand. He begins playing the most beautiful sound I have ever heard. What a second? I sit up in my seat a little straighter. It's Alexander!

"God, not another long performance." Ryder groans for the hundredth time.

"Shhhhh," I say, quieting him again...I grab the little binoculars that my mother brought with her and look back at the stage with me looking through them. It is him. He looks so serious; he doesn't look like the boy I saw on the plane. He looks so intimidating; he is wearing all black. His suit jacket is so long it touches the stage floor. He looks so focused on the violin, on his fingers. I'm only focusing on him. I have tuned out the singers, and I'm solely focused on him, on his playing, I'm so magnetized by it, by him.

The binoculars are snatched out of my hands. "What are you doing?" I snap at Ryder.

"Why are you staring at him?"

"Why do you care?" I try to lean and reach over him, trying to grab it out of his hand, but he just stretches his arm out further. "Ryder," I growl low. Even in the dark, I can see his devious smile. I stop leaning over him and sit back in my seat.

...

The play is now over. I look down at my mother, whose eyes are filled with tears. Mines are filled with rage. I hated the ending Christine should have stayed with The Phantom; why would she leave with Raoul? My parents like this; I guess they see this as a happy ending story when it isn't; its a tragedy.

"Two hours, to fucking hours of my life wasted," Ryder says.

"Ryder." His mother says. "Language."

Ryder rolls his eyes and exits; I follow behind him.

"If you guys would like, there's a cast meet and greet in 15 minutes," Josiah says.

"Sound goods." My father says.

"I'm going back to the hotel," Ryder says.

"No, you're not. You're staying here." His father commands him.

"I don't have to listen to you." Ryder snaps.

His mother walks towards him and places a hand on his chest. "Please, stay?" she says.

Ryder looks down at his mother. He hesitates but then gives in.

...

Ryder and I are standing by the door of the backstage room, side by side. I would walk around and mingle, but there are so many people I'm starting to get nervous, plus, I don't know anyone. I'm not the type of person to just walk up to people and start talking.

My parents ended up running into another couple that they knew; now they're standing and talking, sipping champagne. The Adams are on the other side of the room, talking to some of the performers.

"How do your parents know them?" I ask Ryder.

"I don't know." He says.

"Oh."

He sighs. "My mom teaches classes here sometimes."

"I didn't know your mom acted." I don't really know much about his family except that they're rich.

"She doesn't; she dances and does music or whatever."

"So, is she a music teacher or a dance teacher?" I ask him, still confused by what his mother does.

"I don't know, Jayda. I just know she teaches here."

"How do you not know what your mother does?" I ask, laughing.

"Do you know everything your father does?" He snaps at me with anger in his voice.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I narrow my eyes at him. He looks away from me and back at the crowd.

"Are you following me?" The familiar British voice says. I turn around to my left and see Alexander walking towards me. Along with four other people behind him. One of the people with him is the brunette woman who played Christine in the play.

"You two know each other?" The woman asks as they get closer.

Alexander looks at me. "We had a brief encounter on the plane," he says, smiling.

"Well, it's lovely to meet you." The woman says. She holds out her hand, and I shake it. "I'm Katherine."