Eh… I'm not so sure about this story, but I figured I'd put it up and see if anyone reads it. So… yea. By the way, this takes place the same night Cosette is taken away from the Thenardiers.
I would also like to say that if the writing seems a bit choppy, it's because I wrote this during math class, and I happen to sit next to the two loudest eighth graders I know in that class…
Felix's POV
I hear they call her the Lark. A foolish name, really. Is it supposed to be a metaphor or something? It's not a particularly good one. She reminds me more of a worm, or a slug, or something. Some little insect that lives underground in the dirt, out of the sun.
Why am I spending so much time thinking about her? I've seen other brats, in other chop-houses, all over. They may look different (although I'm not too sure, covered in dirt as they invariably are), but they're hardly any different at all. Snivelling, whiny little kids. I've never given any of them a second thought.
This Lark is different. I think I've seen her somewhere before. I can't think where. I've never been to this… Thenardier's place before.
Of course she's a liar, too. What else would you expect of a girl of her class? Told that man she watered his hourse, but any fool could see she hadn't. The Lark… what a name!
--
Felix soon forgot the Lark, almost as soon as she had left the room, choosing to busy himself instead over his food and drink. He talked and laughed, loud and rowdy with the others. In this small town, as in other small towns, he attracted a certain amount of celebrity. He had the unmistakable air of someone who has been places and known people. He knew how to capitalize on this air, and so he was surronded by a group of the inn's other patrons, louder and rowdier than he.
Even when the Lark returned, he did not notice. Like most of the other visitors at the Seargent of Waterloo, he did not pay any attention whatever until the old man started making a scene over her.
What did he think he was doing? Buying her dolls, dropping coins—
Felix's POV
—It was ridiculus! Treating her like some poor lost queen, and the Thenardiers like slave drivers. What was she to him, or he to her? He he seen the gamins of Paris? Had he seen the children who wandered from town to town, cleaning chimneys or doing any other work they could? These brats had som much less than the Lark, and it was she he chose to help.
Not that he really cared for any of these kids. Let well enough alone was his motto. If the little brats couldn't look after themselves, better they simply fade away…
--
Felix thought no more of the Lark that night, as he got more and more drunk. When he woke late the following morning… afternoon… he did not see that the Lark was gone…
He never thought of her again.
Please don't bother to review, I know I'll never get around to reading them, so you're just wasting your time.