(Quick author's note:

We wrote this in like a month for shits and giggles. We haven't been to France and therefore haven't the faintest idea what it's like there. Please forgive us for every inaccuracy and enjoy~

We also don't own The Phantom of the Opera/Erik. We only own Avril and her grandma and her friends)

I left St. Cloud for good on March tenth. I was only seventeen and I had kazillions of reasons to. I had no friends, a troubled past, no acceptance and no regrets. I sloppily shoved clothes that I would miss if I left without them into a duffel bag until I realized it was overflowing. I zipped it up and took what I needed from my room in a carry-on guitar case with my guitar. iPod, gray beanie, instant camera, hairbrush, Madonna rubber bracelets, a few earrings…and one thing I couldn't live without—my copy of The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux. The greatest book ever written. I might need it where I was going. Actually, I didn't, it's just a book, but it's my favorite. It was all I had left of my dad. He was a good man, musically talented and very smart. I take after him a lot and that pisses my mom off. Another reason I would leave. It was ten o'clock P.M. and I was all packed. I dropped my stuff by the front door and went to my mom's bedroom. She was asleep, cuddling a jug of whiskey like she would cuddle a baby but I was never a baby. Just a burden. I looked at her smiling sleeping face and remembered dozens of times I saw the same thing. She just had sex. I went to the kitchen and got a bag of pretzels. I slammed them on her nightstand. I then found a fresh condom in her sock drawer and put it next to it. I went to the living room and found Mean Girls on DVD. It was the only thing my mother and I had in common—we both enjoyed Mean Girls. I put it by the condom and snacks. I cleared my throat and said in my Amy Poehler voice, "You need anything, some snacks, a condom? Let me know! Oh, God love ya." I grabbed the bottle from her and smashed it on the pretzels, condom and DVD. "Fuck you! I'm leaving!"

I never found out if she did anything about it. I slung the duffel on my back and my carry-on in my hands and I rode my skateboard to the airport, with the ticket to freedom in my pocket.

I had five minutes before I would be on the plane to Paris, but I had to call Grandma. I put a quarter into the last American public phone I ever saw and called her. She answered in her old French lady voice, "Bonjour?"
"Hey, Grandma, it's me," I said. "Avril."
"Oh, Avril, my petite-fille. Are you boarding the plane?"
"Yeah, almost right now."
"Oh, good. I'll be there when you come."
"Cool. See you soon," I said. "And…I can't thank you enough for this."
"It was only a matter of time before I knew you would want to get out of there and I don't blame you," she said. "But I'm so excited to see my little granddaughter all grown up!"
The only time I knew what love was, I had to wait for hours in the cold for a Christmas card from Grandma before Mom would throw it out. Grandma hated Mom just as much as I did. Mom was in Paris conducting a "scientific sexual experiment". She had recorded herself banging an Asian guy, a Spanish guy, a Native American guy, a Canadian guy, an African guy and an American guy, and she went to France to bang a European guy. My dad was the only one who didn't understand what she was trying to do but before she got him into bed they had to date a little. My mom ran off when it was over but when my dad found out he had a daughter five years later he invited me to spend the summer in Paris. It was the best summer I ever had. My dad died three days after I returned home. "Bye, Grandma," I said.
"Au revoir, Avril, see you soon," Grandma said. I hung up and ran to the plane.

As I sat on the plane waiting for it to take off, I remembered the time I spent in France. I met a boy who was hardly a year older than me. His name was Alexandre Moreau or something, I called him Alex. I met him waiting in line at the Palais Garnier with my dad and Grandma. As I thought harder I remembered him turning to me and saying, "Est cette votre première fois à l'opéra, aussi?" and I said, "I don't speak French." My dad said, "He asked if this is your first time at the opera, too. Ouais, c'est sa première fois. Parlez-vous anglais?" Alex replied, "I speak English very well and it's fine if you don't. I'm Alex." After that, we was like peas and carrots…or something. We got tickets sitting next to each other and although we did whisper to each other a little I remember what we saw very well, even though it was in French and Dad had to explain what was happening sometimes. The opera was called Carmen and it was based off a book. I read it when I was eleven and I understood about forty percent of it, but I liked it.
I never had a friend like Alex. We only knew each other for one summer but I wanted to see if I could get back in touch with him somehow. Grandma knew him because she was with us when we met so I hoped she could help me with that. The time finally came when we were free to take electronics out. I put my earbuds on, turned my iPod's volume very high, and played the Phantom of the Opera Original Cast Recording. As it started, I dug up the copy of the book and I read the words I had read a million times and never got tired of. "The Opera Ghost really existed…"

"It is no ordinary skeleton," I read right before the captain asked the people on the airplane to put away their electronics. I put my iPod and the book away and gazed out the window and saw the City of Lights. It was the very early morning and all I knew was that in the big gray block I could see below me the old lady I hadn't seen but wrote to and just called was waiting for me with all the grandma love grandmas give grandkids. I felt a bump and realized the plane had landed. I wanted to scream, hell to the yeah, my ass is out of that cowtown in America! but that would lead to trouble and I didn't want that. So I just smiled the biggest smile I smiled in twelve years and knew it would be bigger when I saw Grandma. I got off the plane and saw there was only one person who looked like she was actually waiting for someone. She had long silver hair down to her elbows, a yellow blouse with a tie in the middle and jeans. She was standing on her toes, moving her head around looking for me, so I pushed out of the crowd and stood behind her. "Annette Cormier?" I said.
She turned without looking at me and as she did she said, "Yes?" When she laid her kind blue eyes at me she squealed like a little girl and gave me a very strong hug that I didn't know a sixty-nine-year-old short woman would have the strength for. I cherished the moment because I hadn't felt it in a kazillion years. Still hugging me, Grandma said, "Oh, Avril, it's so great to see you!"
"You, too, Grandma," I replied.
She let go and said, "Oh, you must be exhausted. You have bags under your eyes!"
"Do I?" I said. "Well, ten-hour flight. I was wide awake."
"Doing what?" Grandma said.
I dug into my carry-on bag and brought out the book. She smiled at the sight and said, "Yes, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra. The greatest book I've read in my life."
"Yeah, I think it was you who sent me the copy for Christmas," I replied.
"Yes, that was me," Grandma said.
I laughed and said, "I barely understood a word of it but I grew up and appreciated it more, not that I never did."
We briefly caught up as we walked and found my bag. Grandma said she lives in a nice two-bedroom house that was a long walk or a short drive to the Palais Garnier. She knew I had to pack light so she bought me some clothes and I told her I'd wear anything that wasn't disgustingly revealing. My bag came after twenty minutes of waiting and Grandma took it. She said she could handle a lot of weight because she works out every week at a gym to prevent her from becoming a"gringalet". That means weakling. She remembered that she could carry me on her shoulders when I was five for, like, half an hour until I wanted to get down.

We exited the airport and a bright sun between pure white clouds greeted me. I had to put my hand above my eyes to keep them from melting as Grandma led me to her car. As it started loudly, she said, "Give it a minute, it's a sensitive old piece of merde. I'm buying a new one this summer." She dug into a tote bag between the driver and passenger seat and pulled out a black CD case. She smiled at me as she opened it and slid it into the CD player. I tried to find the case but she moved the bag away from me before she started driving. I giggled until I heard the overture to Phantom of the Opera. I grinned and said, "Grandma, I love you sooooo much." We sang along to a few songs as she drove us to her place. In the middle of Think of Me she said, "I'm not trying to be good anymore. You do it."
I paused it and asked, "What did you say?"
She stopped at a red light and answered, looking at me, "I can't sing these days, Avril, I'm too insecure. You, on the other hand, you can do it. Don't let me bring you down. Sing!"
She turned it back on and I nervously did. She opened my window but I closed it. "I'm not very confident, either," I told her.
"That's a pity, who would dare criticize you if they weren't jealous fools?"
"Thanks, Grandma," I said with a smile. "But why are you so insecure?"
"Well, I used to be begged to sing at parties before your father was born, people would get on their knees and bow down. People offered to make me famous for it but if I did I would be separated from your grandfather who was my boyfriend at the time. I refused and so they found out my cousin Geneva had a talent. She went into showbiz and died from alcohol poisoning. And that was another reason I refused, I was afraid of what fame could bring to me. When people asked me that question, I told them and they all laughed at me. It hurt my feelings so much, I never wanted to sing again. I sing in private, but if I am in the presence of someone better in the least bit, I'll surrender to them like people used to me."
"Come on, Grandma, you were good!" I exclaimed.
"Not good enough to accompany you," she chuckled. "Have you been in any school plays?"
"I'm not liked enough," I said.
"If I ever meet those people, I will make sure they don't see the last of me without two black eyes," Grandma smiled like it was a nice thing.