A dark haired boy flew past Éponine with a loaf of bread half hidden in his vest. She had only seen him for a moment, he ran so quickly, but she had been able to notice he was dressed in strange, unfamiliar clothing and had a monkey on his shoulder. "Peculiar", she thought. She glanced over her shoulder, quickly, checking that no one had seen him. No one appeared to be chasing the boy, the only disturbance in the crowd appeared to be a confused baker. Éponine half smiled in amazement at the boy's quickness, then ran in the direction in which he had gone.
She came to a sudden halt at the end of the empty alley, pressing herself against the wall when she saw the strange boy sitting with his monkey around the corner. She peeked around the corner of the wall and observed him. His skin was rather dark and his hair was jet black. He really did look different than any boy she had ever seen before, but he was quite handsome, she noticed. He was laughing jovially and smiling widely, he seemed happier than Éponine had ever been in her life. For a resentful moment she wondered if he was rich and had just been stealing bread for a laugh, but another look at him disproved that thought. He wore torn clothes, like hers, but his were of a much different style. He wore an open dark purple vest that revealed his muscular torso and patched white pants with a tattered golden sash. Yes, he was poor like her, but he was so…happy. She couldn't help the small smile that came to her face as she watched him.
"We did it Abu!" He said happily to the small monkey next to him, "This place ain't so bad, we got a whole loaf of bread on the first day!" The monkey, Abu, made a noise of delight.
Éponine continued to watch him, her eyes filled with wonder and a half smile on her face. After a moment of her standing there, Abu looked up at her and poked the boy with his paw, pointing at Éponine. She gasped and ran back down the alleyway, concealing herself behind a cart before the boy could see her and realize she'd been spying.
"Hello?" The boy called after her shadow into the empty space. When he heard no response, he turned back to Abu and said, "No one's there, Abu. Very funny."
Before Éponine had time to smile at his sarcasm, she saw a too familiar figure striding down the street. She knew who the figure was after. Without thinking twice she jumped out from behind her hiding place.
"M'sieur!" She yelled to the boy, startling him greatly. "You must go. Run! The police are coming!"
The boy looked at her amused, thinking her joking or crazy. "You're joking, right? No one saw me take this!" He said, holding up the bread. Just as he did so, Javert turned the corner, spotting him and beginning to walk briskly in their direction.
"Do you trust me?" Éponine said, irritated with the obstinate, cocky boy but still not wanting to let him get caught.
This caught the boy off guard, and winded him slightly. It reminded him of something he'd said long ago, to the girl who was the reason he had left his homeland. Without further questioning, he replied, "Yes" to this strange girl, and took her outstretched hand.
Éponine picked up a rock off the ground and threw it in Javert's direction, not aiming to hit him but aiming for the wall next to him. Her aim had been perfect, the rock bounced off the wall and landed with a loud noise next to Javert's feet. This distracted him for half a second, just enough time for Éponine to roughly yank the boy behind the cart she had been hiding in a few minutes ago and begin walking to Javert.
"Can I help you, Monsieur?" she asked in her sweetest voice, feigning innocence.
Javert glared down at her. "Where is the boy who stole the bread?"
"I haven't seen 'im down this way, sir," she replied, her lying perfectly believable. "But I did hear something of a commotion down the street a ways."
Javert looked her in the eyes for a moment, searching for a reason not to believe her. He looked behind her, scanning the filthy alley they stood in for any sign of the thief. "Very well then. Stay out of trouble, girl," he said, then turned on his heel and went in the direction of the supposed commotion.
Not moving until she heard the click of Javert's shoes fade away, Éponine turned back to the boy with a smirk. He was now leaning against the wall by the cart, smiling at her, his monkey on top of his head. "I'm impressed," he said, "You lie for thieves often?"
Éponine almost blushed, embarrassed by the work her father made her do, but drove that away and replied steadily, "Yes, actually, I do. And I'm guessing you steal pretty often yourself?"
His smile grew broader, "Yes, actually, I do," he replied, mimicking her.
She rolled her eyes at him and as she was about to ask where he came from, two small children rounded the corner. They were obviously poor, possibly orphaned and far too skinny. Éponine's mind automatically went to Gavroche, wondering where he was, if these were his friends, but she pushed the thought away as the thief boy walked over to the cowering children.
"Hello there," he said to them in a soothing, gentle voice. "Hungry?" He asked, offering the bit of bread he still had left to them.
Their eyes widened at the sight of fresh food, and they eagerly accepted. They thanked him profusely, and then ran back out of the alleyway, devouring the bread.
Éponine, who had watched all of this in adoration, looked at the boy with the same admiring look on her face. He smiled back at her, finally noticing everything about her. Her dark brown tangled hair, tattered dress and soft brown eyes, thickly framed by her eyelashes. He thought she was beautiful, and suddenly wanted to tell her so. Always the impulsive one, he did so.
"You're a very pretty girl, you know."
Éponine, not used to this being said to her, was startled and jumped back, looking at him in disbelief. After her moment of shock she looked down, blushing. She hated appearing weak, and she was determined to change the subject. "Thank you m'sieur," said she, "but it is not so. I'm just a street rat."
His smile did not falter; he was amused by her modesty. "Ah, a fellow street rat. I suppose no matter what country you're in, the label doesn't change, does it?"
Composing herself, Éponine replied, "No, I suppose not. No matter where we go, we'll always be street rats."
"Only if we think of ourselves as such," said he.
Ignoring his comment, she asked, "Speaking of countries, where are you from?"
"The city of Agrabah, fair lady," he replied with a slight bow.
"And why did you leave there?" She asked, her curiosity intensified by his former city's strange name and not caring that she was prying.
His smile did not falter, but Éponine noticed something change in his eyes for a moment. "That is a story for another day."
"You're assuming we'll meet again on another day?" She asked, raising one eyebrow.
"Why not? You seem like a girl who knows her way around. I'm sure we'll meet again," he replied. Éponine began walking away, wishing to be done with this conversation. This boy was different, and maybe different was what she needed. Maybe he would make her less alone, be a friend to her and possibly more. But no, she was just fooling herself. He wouldn't love a girl like her, and she had to leave before she got her hopes up.
"Wait, don't go!" he called after her. "At least tell me your name!"
Whirling around, she replied with one last look at the boy, "Éponine. My name is Éponine. And yours, sir?"
He smiled. "Aladdin."