A/N: Long live football practice.

"Welcome to Mizzie Stadium," announced Jean Prouvaire, who was actually on time. "Our badminton games ended last week with a stunning display of anger between Jean Valjean and Inspector Javert. And Sophie," he added under his breath. "Before we watch our first basketball game, we have a clip shot while three of our Mizzies were practicing football. American football, that is. It really makes no sense. Why call it football if-"

"ROLL CLIP!" yelled Sophie. The clip came up on the stadium screens. Eponine, Valjean, and Javert were on a field. Javert picked up the football and threw it over his shoulder. Eponine, who was walking backward, tripped over the football. She picked it up, and studied it.

"I wonder what I do with this?" she asked. "Maybe I'll sell it!" Javert rolled his eyes. Eponine's face lit up in realization. "No! I know! I'll eat it!" She attempted to bite it, but Valjean snatched it away from her.

"Javert," he ordered. "You be the person who runs and catches. Eponine, you throw it, and I'll throw it to Eponine." Javert stepped away from Valjean and Eponine. Eponine caught sight of something in the distance.

"M'sieur Marius!" she called. Valjean chucked the ball at her, and hit her in the head. Javert started running down the field. Eponine picked up the ball, and thanked the gods that Marius didn't turn around to watch her screw up. She threw it in Javert's head. Javert was running so fast, in the other direction, that it hit him in the head.

"JAVERT!" yelled Eponine, coming toward him."Watch where you're going!"

"Maybe if his sideburns weren't in the way," laughed Valjean.

"Don't diss my side burns, you con!"

"Hey! Don't call me a con!" yelled Valjean.

"Yeah Javert," agreedEponine.

"Stay out of this, thou gamine!" said Javert. Suddenly, Valjean and Eponine attacked our friend Javert. The screens dimmed. There was a scattered applause.

"That was uh . . . interesting," said Jehan, who was now worried about the fact that Eponine had been trying so hard to get Marius's attention. "Anyway," he shook it from his brain. "Our first basketball match is a one-on-one match between Gavroche and . . . Cosette?" Prouvaire wasn't sure he read that correctly. Cosette playing sports? What was this world coming to? Cosette waled onto the court with a stunning, yet un-shiny smile. She tripped over a crack in the floor.

"Ah!" she screeched. "I...broke...a.....nail! Referee! That's a foul on the floor. Bad floor! Bad!" While Cosette was being attacked by the floor, Gavroche had entered the arena. His jaw dropped when he saw who he was to be playing.

"Cosette?" he asked no one in particular. "Playing sports? What is this world coming to?" He decided he did not want to play Cosette, because she frightened him. He walked over to the referee, Enjolras, and told him to start the match. He did. Cosette was still hopping around, as if the floor was on fire, screaming like a madman about her broken nail. While Cosette was doing this, Gavroche had already shot 24 baskets. The clock ticked. 48 baskets at half time. Gavroche took a sip of water. Cosette finally realized that it was time to play and joined him on the court.

"Down by 98," the gamine grinned at Cosette.

"Yeah right," she said. "You only shot 48 baskets." She looked very smug. Gavroche rolled his eyes and dribbled the ball to his end of the court.

"You see," he said, standing directly beneath the basket. 'For every basket you shoot," he shot a basket. "You-or I- get 2 points more." Gavroche pointed to the screen the score board. Gavroche's score of 98 went up to 100.

"Oh! I see!" squealed Cosette.

"Good job," Gavroche congratulated.

"Could I have a turn?" she asked.

The gamine sighed. "Sure." he tossed her the ball. It hit her in the stomach and the bounced across the floor. Cosette went after it. She scooped it up and ran back over to Gavroche. She shot the ball. It rebounded back to her. She caught the rebound and took another shot. That time, it went it. Cosette looked extremely proud of herself.

"Thank you for scoring me a point," said Gavroche, pointing at the score board, which now read 102-0.

"Ooooh," Cosette suddenly understood.

"And," he added. "You've only got one minute left. Cosette took off. She ran down the court. She tripped on her shoelace and dropped the ball. She picked it up, and ran some more. Then she tripped over her shoelace again. This time she tied it. She looked up at the clock.

"15 seconds!" she pick up the ball and ran the rest of the way. She threw the ball into the net. It went in! The buzzer sounded. Cosette began running around the court happily. Gavroche put his arm out to stop her.

"You do know I won. Don't you?" he questioned.

"Screw you, mean gamine boy!" spat Cosette as she took off again. Gavroche shrugged and went back into the locker room. The crowd looked up at the announcer's booth for Jean Prouvaire's end-of-game announcement. The room was quite, except for the sound of Cosette's shoes hitting the gym floor.

"PROUVAIRE!" screamed Sophie. There was no answer. "I'll be right back," she told the crowd. She jumped off the bleachers, ran down the hallway, and burst into the announcer's booth. "Prouvaire! What are you-"she stopped as she realized that Jean Prouvaire was not there. She found a letter on the chair. "To whomever it may concern," she read. "I would be pleased if you let me take this moment to explain my absence. The reason is this: I am preoccupied. I'm afraid I cannot tell you what I am preoccupied with. And Sophie-if you're reading this-please don't fire me." Sophie grinned. Prouvaire was so fired.