D. JAVERT
Dominique Javert was the queen of the school in the faculty's eyes; she was a senior and was generally regarded as being 'perfect,' or as perfect as they come. Her father, Philippe, was the District Attorney for their area. He was more involved with his work than most DA's are; he helped all departments- he assisted in investigations and worked on profiles, among other things. He seemed to live for one thing, his work. Thus, their area had grown to respect the man, and by extension, his daughter, though some wondered when he had had the time to raise her; his wife was long dead.
Of course, Dominique was scorned as all "goodie-goodies" are to be scorned in their schooldays, but she did not let it bother her; she took on extra tasks such as that of hall monitor and office assistant, and filled her time well.
Her first two hours were simply marked 'office' as they had been in first semester, and in first semester, she had served as a hall monitor during first hour. She decided, as shown from experience, that she would simply be asked to complete the same tasks as she had been asked in the previous semester. Thus, as she walked through the halls, she came across an unpleasant aroma emanating from one of the boys' bathrooms on the second floor. With her authority ever-present in her mind, she pushed the door open.
"Montparnasse!"
There was a choking sound from the second stall down, and the sound of something being dropped into a toilet, followed by a slight sizzling sound, not unlike that of a fire being extinguished, and then the sound of the toilet flushing. The stall slid open.
"I know what you were doing," Dominique said disapprovingly.
"You think you know everything. You've always thought you know everything. Since we were in third grade, you did. You don't know Nothing."
Dominique raised an eyebrow. "Why, thank you. Do you mean your first go round in third or your second?" There was a slight pause. "I'm going to have to write you up, you know," she said conversationally.
"You don't have the proof."
"Oh, but I do," she said, flicking a piece of ash off of his shirt, smirking. "You're quite messy, you know. Plenty more where that came from."
Every so often, Montparnasse Did know that he was beaten. It didn't mean, however, that he couldn't talk his way out of it later.
EPONINE
Greelson was an older man; he was well past the traditional age for retirement, and so handing out and issuing textbooks was quite a dilemma for him. Much as some of the students detested receiving their new textbooks (for textbooks signify homework), they couldn't help but notice that the lapse in time gave them the perfect opportunity to socialize.
Eponine took the opportunity to gaze about the room, looking for a face that she did not recognize. "Brown hair. Curly," she muttered to herself. Nobody new that she saw, except…
Yes. It was the girl, the one she'd noticed that morning. Three rows behind her, and two seats to the left. Looking around the classroom confirmed her suspicions. Yes. This was the girl that Marius had been asking about; Eponine was Sure of it.
After class, Eponine dropped her books in the aisle just as the girl was walking past. As Eponine expected, the girl stopped to help her pick her books up.
"Hey, thanks."
"It's nothing," the girl with the curly brown hair said, placing Eponine's tattered pencil bag on top of the tottering pile of books and binders. As she did, Eponine snuck a look at the name on the girl's notebook.
"Well. I'll see you around, then." Eponine headed for the door quickly. Cosette. Cosette, the name rang a bell… The last name, Fauchelevent, meant nothing to her, but Cosette… She shrugged and began to weave her way through the crowded hallway to her next class.
MARIUS
It was lunch hour, and Marius was sitting alone as he usually did; he didn't prefer people watching him eat, and eating alone was better than eating with Eponine, Azelma, Gavroche, and Montparnasse, as he'd made the mistake to do once.
However, he wasn't at all displeased to see Eponine enter the range of his vision, make a beeline for him, and sit in the seat next to his.
Before he could get a word out, Eponine blurted her information out quickly, with a slight bitter tinge in her tone that passed over Marius's head unnoticed. "Her name's Cosette. Cosette Fauchelevent. I wrote it down, see?" She took a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Marius.
He studied the paper with an odd look on his face. Then he lifted his eyes to Eponine's. "I really appreciate it, 'Ponine." He bit his lip. "Listen, Eponine, I need her information- it'll be in the office…"
"Why don't you just ask her?"
"I don't… I don't know. Can you look this up for me?"
"Why can't you do it yourself?"
Marius gave an exasperated sigh. "You're good at this, 'Ponine. I'd be caught in a second. Please, if you do this…"
"You promised me something, you know."
Marius shrugged. "What would you like?"
Eponine didn't answer. She simply rose, taking the piece of paper from Marius's slack grip. "I'll get it for you." She then left the cafeteria, not looking back.
Marius watched with a raised eyebrow. "Weird kid. But useful." With that, he went back to eating, still scanning the crowded room for a head of curly brown hair, but not finding one. It didn't bother him, however; it was all too possible that Cosette Fauchelevent had a different lunch shift. Eponine would come through. She always did.
After finishing eating, he went to the library with the intention of daydreaming in silence for a while; doing so always made him feel more relaxed and ready to face his afternoon classes.
LESGLE
"Pontmercy! Pontmercy!" The sophomore/junior Civics and Government teacher, Alice Hammernith, was infamous among the students; if you were tardy, it was an automatic detention. The fool, Marius Pontmercy! Lesgle had seen him around; he always looked rather starry-eyed, and had what seemed to have an Enjolras-Grantaire-esque relationship with a tenth grader named Eponine something-or-the-other.
"Pontmercy!"
Lesgle ducked behind his book and coughed out "Present!"
Hammernith looked at him; his 'disguise' had failed. "Hmm. You're Pontmercy now, are you? Well, Marius, if you are indeed Marius Pontmercy, then you are not Lesgle. So Lesgle is absent. I'll send his detention slip right out," she hissed, turning to her computer to make a record of the disciplinary action.
Bahorel and Grantaire, who had this class with Lesgle leaned in from either side of him and whispered, respectively,
"Tough luck, man."
"Bitch!"
Hammernith spun about. "And that will be a detention for Mr. Grantaire as well."
Bahorel snickered. "Enjolras will have both your heads, you know."
Grantaire arched a dark eyebrow. "And what's so different about that? I doubt that I'll be too sorely missed…"
