THE SPOKEN
There were nine people missing from the assembly that morning. The said nine people could have been found in the library, had the faculty thought to look for them.
Courfeyrac, the fastest typist, was seated at one of the computers designated for student use, a bag of pretzels situated by his left hand. Seven of the nine were clustered around the back of Courfeyrac's chair. Enjolras paced nearby, dictating a letter, pausing, correcting himself, and ever so often striding over to the computer to read what had been written thus far.
It was during one of these times, as Enjolras scanned the letter, that Grantaire leaned back and stretched his arms, knocking into Jehan, who scrambled out of the way. Grantaire yawned, but through the yawn, a few words were distinguishable. "Why do we bother? You can't move the government by writing a letter to the school board. You're not moving the world."
Enjolras looked down at Grantaire, throwing him a withering glare. "Not the world. Only our little corner of it. We must start somewhere, and starting small is a good way to begin."
"But why does it Matter that we have to say 'under God' every morning?"
Enjolras turned and resumed his pacing. "I am not offended by it. None of us are offended by those two words. However, the implications behind those words…" Enjolras paused. "This country was founded upon principles. That we are forced to say the words 'under God' goes against said principles. Something must be done."
"We're not Forced to- we don't even say those words"-
"It's a matter of principal, Grantaire. We might not say those words, but those words are part of the pledge."
"We are Supposed to say them," Feuilly amended. "But we do not always do what is expected of us, now, do we?"
Grantaire shrugged and leaned his elbows on his knees.
Courfeyrac dug his hand into the bag of pretzels, ate a few, and resumed his typing at Enjolras's command until Joly broke in. "You know, it's really unsanitary to eat and type at the same time. I read this article…"
He broke off as Courfeyrac reached into the bag, selected two more pretzels, ate them, licked his fingers, typed a few words, and licked his fingers again. Joly made a face but did not comment further, as Enjolras was again speaking at full speed.
MARIUS
Marius had found himself seated across the aisle from a girl with curly brown hair during the hour-long, Highly tedious assembly, though he'd not really turned to look at her properly, and so had not attempted to make conversation. Even so, he was rather relieved when she nudged him, showing him her schedule.
"Excuse me… Do you know where this room is? My first class, you know." she said.
Marius almost couldn't answer; he'd never heard such a beautiful voice in his entire life. The face was beautiful, not what he looked at it, and her demeanor and posture appealed to him in a way he'd never thought possible; the result of this was that his head felt as if it was spinning- as if he had been struck by a sudden light. "Uh, yes. Biology 10/11 with Greelson. Second floor, center hallway, fifth door on the right," he muttered as the assembly ended. His eyes met hers, and he could have sworn that he saw something flicker in those dark brown pools before they were shunted in opposite directions.
As he was exiting the auditorium, a brash voice jolted him from his revere. "Marius. What class do you have first?"
"Trig. You?" He said, his voice huskier than usual, hardly noticing Eponine standing beside him, and not even paying enough attention to be annoyed or bothered as he usually was by the girl.
"Bio."
He suddenly turned and grabbed her hand. "Bio? With Mr. Greelson?"
Eponine shrugged. "Yeah."
"You have to do something for me, Eponine." He pulled her into an empty aisle as to avoid the other students. "There's a girl in your class, I think she's new. Brown hair, kind of short, really pretty…"
"In my bio class." Eponine suddenly looked rather forbidding.
Marius seemed not to notice. "Yes, in your bio class. Find her for me, give me her name."
"Hmmmm. If I do this, what will you give me?"
"Anything!"
"Anything…" She sighed. "If that's what you want…" The bell rang, cutting her off, and they both sprinted towards the door and to their respective classes.
THE SPOKEN
"We are So late," Combeferre moaned as he glanced at the clock; it had been five minutes since the bell had gone off.
"All for a good cause," Enjolras said absently, reading the printed letter.
"Do you think it's ready?" Asked Courfeyrac, looking at the screen that still held the letter.
"No… Courfeyrac, save that to disk. Let's use tonight's meeting to finish this off, and it can be sent tomorrow."
"Um. There's not a computer at the café…" Lesgle said hesitantly.
Enjolras waved an elegant hand dismissively. "That is inconsequential. All we need do is make corrections by hand; I will take the liberty of rewriting the complete letter afterwards."
Combeferre rose and started for the library doors. "Very well; but if I'm any later than this, it'll count as an absence, and if I get another absence, that will be detention, and I'll not be able to come at all tonight."
Grantaire sighed. "Detentions never bother me… I just skip them." Bahorel laughed, but seemed to be the only one who found Grantaire's antics to be even slightly amusing.
Upon saving the letter, Courfeyrac ejected the disk and handed to Enjolras, who left the library without a word, the other seven following in his wake.
