They found the hotel late in the afternoon after several wrong turns. By then, Eponine was through fuming and had accepted that maybe she would have to be clearer in her advances towards Marius. She was the last off the bus since she'd been sitting in back alone so by the time she got out, all of the other girls had paired up for room assignments. 'Four to a room,' Mr. Valjean had said. There were 17 girls in the choir though, and Eponine was the odd one out. As usual.

She sat awkwardly on a bench in the lobby while everyone talked around her. After counting the groups, Valjean saw his mistake and separated a few friends to room with her. Cosette and Musichetta were the unlucky two, but they tried their best to hide it.

"They say three's a crowd," Cosette chirped after a long awkward silence, "but I'd much rather have three than four," she was trying her hardest to be cheerful.

"Who's sharing and who gets to spread out?" Musichetta asked, referring to the bedding situation. She was trying less hard.

Eponine raised her hand, "I'm impartial," she needed to be on her roommates good side for her escape plan to work. A clean bed to herself would have been nice, but making back the money she borrowed was priority number one.

Cosette handed her the room key. "Well, then I hope you don't kick," she smiled sweetly.

Eponine plucked it from her perfectly manicured hand warily. Self-sacrificing whore, She thought. How am I supposed to hate you if you're so good all the time?

Around two AM, she kicked Cosette awake. To play hooky by faking sick, she needed an audience. That and kicking Cosette made her feel a little better. Stumbling out of bed like a drunk, she made her way to the bathroom. The toilet lid clanged loudly on the porcelain, hopefully waking Musichetta as well. Eponine took a deep breath, stuck her finger down her throat and gagged loudly to make herself sound incredibly ill. Not a minute passed before Cosette was kneeling behind her, holding back her hair. This was unexpected. Eponine wasn't sure if she was going to be able to perform now without a stimulus. She cursed Cosette's kindness yet again.

There wasn't much to do but gag and try to swallow her tongue. Nothing was working. She focused on the taste in her mouth, and felt disgusting instead of nauseous. Cosette cooed and rubbed her back gently. This is the kind of person Marius deserves. The thought made her sick enough to have no problem producing more of the sandwich Jehan had shared with her. Cosette would never have to be in this sort of situation because she was smart and kind and people were more than happy to help her out when she needed it. She was a model citizen, something Eponine couldn't in her wildest dreams aspire to be like.

Musichetta leaned in the doorway, her hair mussed up, sleep still in her eyes. "Want me to get Valjean?"

"No!" Eponine rasped, she throat sore from the bile.

"Are you sure?"

"I think I'm done now."

"I'll let him know tomorrow morning that you can't come out. I'm sure he'll understand." The two girls helped her back to the bed.

"Is it okay if you share with me till morning?" Cosette asked Musichetta. She grunted in approval, flopping back into her pillow and pulling the duvet over her head. Cosette arranged the blankets over Eponine before retiring herself.

Feigning sick really took it out of Eponine. She tried to steady her breath and still her trembling limbs. She would've killed for a smoke right then, but that would mean breaking character and forfeiting all the work she'd done thus far. Instead, she smashed her face into her pillow and tried to think of happy thoughts so that she wouldn't cry. All of them included Marius, so she bit her cheeks and tried to focus on the physical pain instead. Cosette, Cosette, what have you done to me?

Before Eponine even woke, the other girls were long gone. She'd only slept for a few hours and was starving, but she couldn't think about that; she had pockets to pick. Pulling on her ratty t-shirt and jeans, she tried to remember where the major metropolitan areas were. She slipped the room key into her back pocket and headed out. Asking for directions was a good ruse for stealing wallets anyway. When she opened the door though, there was a tearing sound. Eponine's stomach dropped. She stepped out into the hallway and inspected the frame. There, just below the handle was a ripped piece of tape. She should have known they'd lock her in. It was against the rules to leave students unsupervised, but with only two chaperons, no one could be spared for her. They'd taped the door so that they'd know if she left.

Eponine tried to think of an excuse for the broken tape. I was looking for Mr. Valjean? I suddenly recovered and wanted food? The smell in the bathroom was killing me? they all sounded pretty weak. She resolved to think of it all day, maybe with more time she'd be able to come up with a plausible story.

She had spent an hour tricking tourists out of their money, but she still hadn't thought of a good alibi and barely had enough cash to cover an eighth of what she owed. She could feel herself wilting with hunger. Passing a bakery of fresh bread was almost too much to bear. Screw it, she thought, turning herself into the next cafe she passed, surrendering a few of her dollars for a bagel. There was no way should could go the rest of the day without some sort of sustenence.

She sat in the darkest corner and watched everyone mingle about. Half were writing novels and the other half were taking pictures of their coffees for instagram. It was amusing for a while, knowing she could easily take anyone's purse as they were all so distracted, but then she saw a familiar face. Enjolras. All time tenor soloist, Principal for every musical, leader of Marius' band of brothers, and the object of every high school girl's fantasy. Eponine had heard much about him, but she'd always flown under his radar just like every other student who wasn't a part of his dorky political club.

She pretended to be really interested in her bagel, lest he vaugely recognize her and say hello. If he wanted to talk to her, she'd have to think of an excuse for being there. Chances were, he'd been invited to watch his old high school preform and would email the school about her misconduct. That was how he was. Such a goody-two shoe law abider. There was also a pretty big chance he wouldn't recognize her, period. Eponine watched him order his caffeine in her peripheral and considered ducking out and hiding in the bathroom. Getting up might bring more attention that just sitting here though, she reasoned. Still trying stuck trying to make a decision, Enjolras' perpetually unshaven friend, Grantaire, caught sight of her. He sat down in the chair across from her, sloshing his drink.

"I know this is kind of a weird question, but I feel like we've met before! Have we?" He sounded like he'd been smoking something.

Enjolras came over to put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Let the girl be, we have things to attend to!"

Grantaire brushed him off. "No, I swear I've seen you before! Help me out. What college do you go to? Do you frequent any bars? Hospitals?"

"I used to go to high school with you," Eponine offered. She remembered Grantaire showing up late to every concert. It was no use trying to lie. Besides, if anyone could identify with her and quell Enjolras' sense of justice it would be him. The truth was rarely the best, but her hunger slowed her wits. "I'm a friend of Marius'."

Grantaire steepled his fingers and pressed them to his chapped lips. "I know your name. I know I know it, I know it, don't tell me!"

"She's Marius' shadow," Enjolras said, fed up with his friend's antics.

Eponine blushed hotly. She had overheard them calling her that behind her back, but no one ever had the gall or indecency to call her it to her face. "It's Eponine," she corrected, "my name is Eponine."

"Lovely," Enjolras said, rolling his eyes. "We've got to go, or we're going to be late," he tugged at Grantaire's arm, but his friend refused to budge.

"You're the girl who won the scholarship last year! And you got emancipated from your parents too, right?"

Eponine felt faint. "How do you know that?"

"Everyone knows it. Marius told us about how much trouble it was causing you! Enjolras, she should come to the protest with us! She's exactly the type of person you were looking for! Desperate and poor, she's the poster child of the oncoming revolution."

She couldn't even gather herself together enough to feel offended. "Marius did what?"

"Grantaire, if you don't leave right now, I'm going without you." he turned on his heel and started for the door.

Grantaire stood and motioned for Eponine to follow. "Please come, it'll be more fun with you there!"

"You didn't even know my name a second ago!" She didn't belong with these people. They might be Marius' friends, but they certainly weren't her's.

Enjolras was holding the door open, tapping his foot. Grantaire leaned in closer to Eponine conspiratorially. "I heard you like to drink though," he pulled a bottle out of seemingly nowhere. "I don't really want to go to this thing, but Enjy insists," he pulled a face and pretended to shoot himself with his free hand. "A friend of Marius' is a friend of mine. Come ooooon, it'll be fun, I promise!"

Eponine licked her lips, considering the offer. A large gathering like protest would be the perfect place to pick a few pockets, and she could really use a drink.

Grantaire looked over his shoulder and held a finger up to Enjolras, telling him to wait just another minute. He turned back to Eponine, suddenly serious. "Some asshole suggested to Enjolras the other night that I like him, and he's been giving me weird looks all day as if he's waiting for me to make a move on him. I need a third wheel to make him forget about it. I'll even pay you! Ten dollars, and a bottle of liquor. Please come with us!"

Eponine was sold. Not just for the free money and booze, but she could empathize with this man. That was how all of last year had gone. She could remember every second of every awkward silence she and Marius had shared. "So, do you actually like him then?"

"Are you in or no?" He demanded, ignoring her question.

Eponine held out her hand and Grantaire place a wrinkled ten in it and the bottle of cheap Boonesfield wine. She followed the two of them around back to the cafe parking lot. "Hey, whoa, wait! I thought we were walking to this shin dig. No offense, but you guys aren't kidnpping me or anything, right?"

"You don't have to come," Enjolras said, disgruntled by her attendance.

Grantaire was already climbing into the driver's side, "When we're done, we can drive you back to wherever you're staying! You can even ride shotgun." Enjolras looked particularly upset about the last amendment.

"I thought you were high. Are you sure you're okay to drive?" Despite her doubts, Eponine was already opening the passenger door. It was a really stupid idea for a young woman to get into a random car with two virtual strangers, but her entire demeanor at the moment was 'what the hell.'

"Enjy here is on probation, so he can't, and you have no idea where we're going. If I'm not going to drive, who is?"

"Probation?" Eponine's worry-o-meter shot straight to the top. Half of the people who hung around her family were on probation or parole. She had thought that these two boys were good, clean company. If she pegged them wrong, if they weren't who she thought they were, what else didn't she know? Maybe they really were kidnapping her! Grantaire started the car and pulled out into traffic, barely sparing a glance for a stop light he sped through.

"I'm on probation wrongfully. Grantaire, could you please at least attempt not to get us pulled over?"

"You're on probation for assault, buddy, it doesn't get more black and white than that," Grantaire chuckled.

Eponine locked her seat belt into place so that she wouldn't be thrown through the windshield. "I thought you were more of a use-your-words-not-your-fists guy."

"It was self-defense. I had no choice."

Grantaire laughed again. "He was wearing a suit and holding a sign, hardly a threat! He didn't even see you!"

"That sounds like assault to me," Eponine turned around to look at the man. As a certified liar, she could tell who was being truthful and who wasn't.

"He was one of those Westboro Baptist pricks preaching about how God hates fags outside of a funeral home making kids cry."

"For the record, those kids were attending a funeral."

"I did what I had to do. People like that don't listen to words."

"How was that self-defense though?"

"I was defending the people's rights to not be verbally abused and discriminated against. I was protecting our God-given right of equality."

"Do you think that man is equal to you then?" Eponine grabbed onto her seat to avoid being tossed at an abrupt stop. Enjolras wasn't so lucky.

He pushed his hair back, "Didn't I just say he was? Our God-given rights refers to everyone. Everyone is equal."

"So Grantaire and I are equal to you then as well, yes?

"Yes!"

Eponine could tell he was getting frustrated at having to explain himself to her. A man like him, people never questioned. He was the sort you would follow blindly to the ends of the earth.

"And my father, when he chokes me or tries to drown me in the bathtub, and my mother, when she refuses to let me eat or puts out her cigarettes on me, they're equal as well?"

Enjolras' face soften. "I'm sorry. People like that are sick, Eponine. They need help from professionals."

"They know what they do," she had heard his speeches before. His ideas blanketed every problem. There weren't enough exceptions or details. If it were up to him, he would give away freedoms the way Oprah gave away cars. It angered her to no end that he would argue for something he couldn't possibly understand.

Grantaire pulled into a parking ramp. "I say we're all equal only when we're dead." Eponine and Enjolras both turned to look at him. "It's nice to try and idealize things, but nothing's going to change no matter how much anyone tries."

Enjolras was angry with him all over again, "Do you come to these protests and sit in on our meetings just to mock us then? Is my plight a joke to you?"

"No! I'd love to be proven wrong! According to you, everything I do is wrong, so why shouldn't my ideas be wrong as well?" Grantaire got out and slammed his door. Eponine slowly unbuckled herself. This friendship, she was beginning to understand, was not something she wanted to get in the middle of. The ten dollars Grantaire had given her felt heavy in her pocket. She shouldn't be here.