Going Out For Some Sunshine
Musichetta Laurain crossed her arms and stamped her foot as she watched the little girl running up to her from across the garden outside the dormitories. "Are you still coming, Cosette?" she asked.
The nine year old dusted off her schooldress and smiled. "I just wanted to see my Papa. Can he come with us? He can help us get up there,"
Muschietta shook her head. "We can climb up by ourselves."
Cosette nodded as she slipped her hand in that of Musichetta. Both of them were charity pupils in the school run by the nuns. However, while Cosette was still shy and thus considered insignificant by her fellow students, Musichetta was popular and admired by the other girls. At fifteen, she was fast becoming a beauty.
The two girls crossed the garden, expertly evading the nuns and some of the pupils who were bound to tell on them. They soon reached a deserted corner near the high stone wall. Crumbling steps led to nowhere in the ivy.
"Here we are." Musichetta said, helping Cosette up one step. The older girl parted the foliage to reveal a gap just small enough for a slender girl to squeeze through. This breach opened out onto a stack of crates on the street.
"Maybe we could stay inside..." Cosette squeaked when she saw the street.
"Nonsense. The view is much better out here." Muscihetta said, making herself comfortable on a ledge.
Down in the street, three children sat patiently on the steps of a shop.
"Where have they been?" Azelma whined.
Gavroche sucked on his thumb. "I want Maman,"
Eponine scuffed her shoes. "She'll be coming with Papa soon. Now, I have a gold piece. Who wants to have some cake?"
"Won't Papa be mad if we go?" Azelma asked, wide-eyed. "He had to talk to all those people..."
Eponine shook her head and adjusted a ribbon on her dress. "I'm hungry, we're in Paris, and the cakes are good. Let's enjoy before we go back to Montfermeil"
"Are they like Maman's?" Gavroche asked.
Eponine shrugged as she took
her siblings by the hand and led them down the street towards where
the aroma of cake filled the air.
Inside the
bakery, a skinny twelve-year old gamin with stringy black hair kicked
aside a pale, small five-year old boy who was crouched at the door.
"Go away, Navet. I can't give you anything today," the
baker's assistant snapped.
Navet glared at the older boy. "You're a bug, Parnasse!"
Montparnasse ignored Navet, and continued stacking the sacks of flour. "All of this bread! If only I can eat it..."
"Then do!" Navet said.
Montparnasse dusted off his hands. "Not here. Not today," he said, going off to meet another supply cart. Bringing in the flour only got him two sous a day. But that, in his mind, was a fortune.
