(A/N): Yes, I realize only a handful of people in this fandom care about Patron Minette, and the Thenardier Sisters. Well, I don't care, so I can do whatever I want 3 Thank you to those who do read this, I love each and every one of you. Really, this is just something I've written on a whim. Again, thank you 3
When freshman year began, Azelma Thenardier had taken care to follow each and every one of her older sister's tips for surviving the year. She didn't talk to anyone Eponine didn't know or approve of, focused greatly on her studies, and stuck close to her sister and childhood best friend, Babet. Sure, by the end of the year they'd both become integrated as a part of the "nerd" population at their school, but at least Azelma could comfortably squeal over the revival of Spider Man, both in film and comics, and Babet could have a worthy opponent in his lunchtime Pokemon battles.
However comfortable they were, it was still strange how the younger sister of Eponine Thenardier was...well, a geek. She wore oversized sweaters, large spectacles with square frames, and carried two or three different emergency inhalers for her asthma. If it weren't for the large hazel eyes that mirrored Eponine's, no one would ever guess they were sisters. Eponine was on the cheerleading team, which was another social anomaly. The girl had joined because, unlike Azelma, she had never really taken good care to mind her studies. Eponine had always believed that the educational system failed in showing how clever someone really was, and letter grades meant nothing. However, this would not get Eponine into a good college, and more importantly, far away from her alcoholic deadbeat father.
Before her mother had left, she'd enrolled Eponine in some gymnastics classes. Backhandsprings and round-offs were second nature to her, and so Eponine had joined cheer as a freshman in hopes of getting a scholarship with it. However, this did not change Eponine one bit. She still beat boys three times her size into the dust for looking at her wrong, still hotwired Montparnasse's motorcycle to ride to cheer practice nearly every morning, and still was an overall badass. And she knew it. Eponine had come a long way from being the scrawny tomboy running around the streets with her little sister and Montparnasse.
Montparnasse and Eponine had entered high school first, with ambitions to rule the school. In a sense, they did. Eponine had the respect of the cheerleading team; the highest of the high school social totem pole. Meanwhile, Montparnasse had formed a similar little gang of his own, only minus the pom-poms and pyramids. They were known as the Patron-Minette, a gang of punks and slackers who smelled of smoke, beer, and teenage rebellion. They were like Judd Nelson from The Breakfast Club in the form of a gang. The main figures were Montparnasse, Claquesous, Guelemer, and Brujon. Sous had met Montparnasse when they both found themselves running from the police at 2 AM when they were thirteen. Guelemer had been a shy, quiet boy who'd been in their math class, and after he punched a senior unconscious for making fun of his trouble understanding the pythagorean theorem, Montparnasse and Claquesous offered their friendship and protection. They'd done the same for Brujon when they realized his laid-back personality was due to his direct connections to the California nightlife. Everyone else in the gang remained only as extensions; freshman who just wanted to belong to something that understood them.
When Babet and Azelma entered high school, a new world order was already set in place. While Eponine viciously protected her little sister, their childhood friend still ran into trouble. Babet was awkwardly tall with clunky glasses he usually refused to wear so he stumbled everywhere and fell over things, and an impeccable knowledge on strange things about the human body; more specifically, the human mouth. It wasn't unusual to see Babet being shoved into a locker, or tripped down a flight of stairs, or beaten up for lunch money. His tormenter was none other than Claquesous himself, mostly because he was the only one tall enough to be intimidating enough for Babet to shake in his hand-me-down sneakers for. Azelma had offered to get Eponine to get him to stop, but Babet refused. He was petrified at the thought of being the victim, and Azelma's 5'3" cheerleader sister being his hero.
However, the running from bullies and crying over Bucky Barnes had kept Babet and Azelma's childhood friendship strong. Azelma had taken to carrying electrical tape for her glasses that only grew all the more fragile when the nobodies in the Patron-Minette stole them, or broke them, or shoved her against walls or lockers. Though Montparnasse was just as protective of her, he couldn't stop the insubordinate freshman and sophomores from picking on her and Babet. She didn't dare go to Eponine either; Azelma refused to be the same little girl who was co-dependent on her sister. Besides, her left hook was getting better anyways. And that was important, because Eponine and Montparnasse were starting on their senior year.
Azelma wasn't sure if she could survive two years without being able to see her sister whenever she wanted, but Eponine was too worried about getting was scholarships she could, and she didn't want to bother cher. Babet was secretly happy that the ring-leaders of Patron Minette were graduating and, without a clear line of succession, surely disbanding. So, on the first day of their sophomore year, Babet and Azelma arrived at school early to reclaim their spot at the bottom of the foyer staircase.
"-Alright, Zel, make me a promise."
"Pinkie or blood oath?"
"...Pinkie."
"Whoa, okay. What is it?"
"This year," Babet began, "We're not gonna take shit from anyone. 'Ponine and 'Parnasse are leaving, y'know, we've just got each other left. Promise?" He finished, lifting up his pinky. Azelma wanted to laugh and make an off-hand comment about them being too old to be making pinky promises, but the sober look on Babet's face made her realize just how serious he was. She smiled and nodded, linking her own pinky with his. Azelma had not seen much of Babet that summer. His birth father had contacted him, and exercised his parental rights so Babet had spent two months with him in New York. The man was a down on his luck musician who was completely alienated from his fifteen year old son, and Azelma had heard an earful in the letters he'd sent. However, Azelma had noticed a great change in Babet when he'd returned a week before term started. He was less awkward, his father had gotten him contacts so the glasses were long gang, and his style of dress was better.
"We'll be fine, Babet. Aren't you taking an A Hour this year, by the way?" Azelma asks, changing the subject before he could ask for a hug or something.
"-I'm actually tutoring this year, instead. Service hours, y'know? Might as well get that out the way now," he shrugs, checking the time. "Shit! I gotta be there in, like, ten minutes…see you later, Zel!" Babet quickly makes his exit, patting her beanie covered head with his hand. Babet walks away too quickly to catch the beanie falling off to reveal the pale blonde hair that had been dyed a blazing, bright orange. Azelma squealed, fumbling as she shoved the hat back onto her head, only to have it snatched back off her head. She immediately felt her stomach drop.
"Aw, did you have a little accident?" says a mocking voice. Azelma immediately froze, pulling her knees to her chest and staring straight ahead. Her newly solid orange fell in tendrils around her face. Brujon, owner of the voice, smirked as he watched her nervous hand drum against the pocket of the ugly green sweater she had on.
"...go away, Brujon," she says tersely, hazel eyes darting around behind her clunky glasses, searching for any sign of Babet, or even Eponine.
"-C'mon, don't be that way, 'Zelma. How'd it happen?" He saunters around her, looming in front of her with crossed arms, one hand still firmly clutched on her favorite beanie. Azelma blinks, remembering her promise to Babet. What had happened was Azelma had tried to dye her hair a reddish kind of brown, but it had turned out to be a bright reddish orange instead. Her father laughed himself into a coma; Eponine merely shook her head.
"-None of your business. Go away."
Brujon put a hand over his heart, over-acting offense, "How you wound me, Petite-Ponine!"
Azelma found herself flinching when he called her by that stupid nickname. It was a cruel nickname, because of how often Azelma was told she was nothing like Eponine, and would never be anything like Eponine. Azelma felt her fists clench around a bunch of the fabric of her sweater. Why couldn't he ever just leave her alone?
"I'm surprised your boyfriend let you do this, what does he think of it?"
Azelma looked confused again, then groaned in frustration. "For the last fucking time, Babet is not my boyfriend! Jesus, do druggies really get short-term memory loss?"
He just shrugged, absolutely unaffected. Azelma hates how much she can't hurt him. "Wouldn't know, I've never done anything like that in my life." he winks, making her want to retch.
"-Just give me my hat back, please?" she says, voice hoarse and tired sounding. Azelma hated conflict and confrontation. All she really wanted was to get through a year without Brujon's stupid mind games.
"-Well, since you said please...no," he grinned smugly, leaning over to meet her eye-level. She took a sharp intake of breath, feeling around for her inhaler. Panic always left her breathless. She felt like a mouse underneath the scrutiny of a hungry cat.
"-Brujon, I'm gonna give you two seconds to step away from my sister or else the next thing that goes up your arm will be a knife skinning your sorry ass," barked the bitter voice of Eponine Thenardier. Azelma let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. Brujon immediately back away, dropping her hat. Azelma leaned down to pick it up, taking her sweet time in order to laugh at Brujon being threatened by Eponine discreetly.
"What's up, 'Ponine?"
"Nothin' much. I would ask you the same, but I have a feeling I already know…" Eponine spat, her sharp hazel eyes peering down south of Brujon's face. He scoffed and crossed his arms.
"Excuse me?"
"Brujon, unless you grow actual balls and make a fucking move, I would suggest you leave my sister the fuck alone, because if you don't, by the time I'm done with you, you won't be able to move at all. Got it?"
...What is she talking about?
"What are you talking about?"
"Azelma, come on, you can sit in on my practice…" Eponine says, holding out a hand to help her sister up. Azelma nodded, taking Eponine's hand while yanking her beanie over her head, careful to avoid Brujon's vision. They walked away, leaving Brujon to stare after them with an annoyed look on his face. The cryptic comments about his teasing Azelma were getting old, and Brujon didn't understand them most of the time. Now, Brujon was a laid-back, calm person, and even though he'd haze a freshman or two for kicks, the way Azelma annoyed him was different. It was almost like her way of being was a personal offense to him.
Montparnasse had tried to confront him about it, but all it ended with was a stupid suggestive grin on his face and a pat on his head that left Brujon confused and bothered. No one could ever explain to him why whenever he saw Azelma sitting in the library, studying with Babet, he immediately felt the need to go over and irritate her to the point where she would threaten to hurt him, and instead just end up storming away. It was like a game she refused to play...which was, albeit, disappointing.
"Christ, if we were back in primary school you'd be yanking her hair and pushing her over on the playground…" Claquesous had laughed one afternoon they had cut class to smoke weed in the school parking lot.
"That was one time!" He protested. Sous laughed even harder, shaking his head and saying something about him being hopeless. Claquesous and Brujon had been best friends since they were five years old, and now in their senior year the future that seemed so far away now only seemed so far away because of the hazy uncertain cloud that hung over it. Brujon was barely scraping by in school, but it seemed Sous was a little less lucky. So, when the school counselor suggest Claquesous be tutored, Brujon was the first to tell him it was the right idea.
"-We can't get outta here and start over somewhere if you're a friggen' super senior, man." Sous had punched him after that remark, which in Sous-speak meant 'fine, you're right.'
So, while Brujon hung around the front of the school with a pack of cigarettes to share with Parnasse and Guelemer when they arrive, Claquesous begrudgingly was sat in an empty classroom waiting for his tutor to arrive. He'd gotten so bored he'd taken out his pocket-knife to pick at his nails (he'd seen it in a movie once).
"-Sorry I'm late, I had to pick up the lesson plans from Ms.-" begins a cheerful voice, before stopping suddenly. There stood Babet in the doorway, murky brown eyes widening as they settled on the imposing figure of Claquesous. More importantly, Claquesous holding a knife.
There's the soft click of Babet closing the door, and the sound of him swallowing hard. "I-uh...are you sure you're allowed to have that on campus?" he stutters, inching closer to his seat parallel to Sous'. Babet felt as though he was shrinking, which was such a foreign feeling that only frightened him more. This couldn't have been real; Babet was going to be responsible for the graduation and possible future of Claquesous, his tormentor?
"-Don't exactly know the student handbook by memory, but I don't give a shit. Do you have a problem with it?" Claquesous challenged, eyes watching him like a hunter stalking immobilized prey. Babet, on a whim, vigorously shook his head.
"N-No! No, let's...let's, uh, get started, shall we?" He tried smiling, but it faltered into a grimace.
Claquesous smirked.