Chapter Four: His Hands

I laughed at Michel, who stuck his tongue out at me. We had been talking for a long time, and I felt a little bad because the rest of his group had left to perform elsewhere when they got tired of waiting for us to stop talking.

He was funny in this sweet and awkward way.

"Don't laugh at me! I can't help it," he told me, "really; if you lived with Clopin Trouillfou you'd be just as crazy as me."

"You live with him?" I asked, curious. His father must live with Clopin too, right?

"Uhh...well...yeah!" Michel stumbled over his words. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Where?"

"You ask too many questions."

I frowned at him, but decided not to push it. His secrets were his secrets, and besides, I had learned years before that if you act like you don't care, you find out more then you should.

"Clopin is very intriguing," I replied, hoping to get on that subject. I was starving for information about him.

"Yes, he is. I love his puppet shows. He's actually a really good story teller," Michel said, propping his head on his knees.

"I know! I heard him this morning. I don't know how he does that; I could never spend that long with children," I told Michel, smiling.

He nodded.

"But everyone has to make a living somehow, I guess." I remarked casually.

Michel looked at me. "He doesn't get paid for that, you know."

"What?"

"He just likes to do it."

"Then how does he survive!"

"He performs sometimes. He's a wonderful acrobat; he taught me everything I know. Not to mention what a handsome voice he has," Michel sighed, "I could never sing like that!"

I bit the inside of my cheek. "I should probably find my sister."

He blushed, standing up. "Yeah, ok. Bye!"

He waved at me weakly. I smiled and waved back. I walked over to a little alley way and peaked in, but didn't see her there. I hadn't noticed where'd she had slipped away to, but I knew that she was probably some where with Gilbert so I ' casually ' made my way to see Clopin.

He was right where I'd left him, except he was loading up his little puppet stand. I drifted over and stood beside him.

"Need some help?"

He smiled at me and waved his hand. "No, no! I've had years of experience! Besides, your pretty hands might get dirty."

"Years, huh?" I remarked, "You must really enjoy this! Especially since you don't get paid or anything."

He stopped what he was doing and looked at me. "Meg, darling, don't worry about me. I can get by!"

My mouth fell open. How did he know I was worried?

He laughed again, and grabbed my hand with both of his gloved ones. "I read you like a book."

I tore my hand away, glaring at him a little. My fingers still felt the tingle of having his around mine.

"Don't worry, its cute," he shrugged and turned back to packing up. "That's one of the things I love about children. They wear their hearts on their sleeve. All of them are so innocent with their questions and their longings to know more! And how they undoubtedly know that every story I tell them has actually happened in real life, and I love seeing their little eyes grow big with fear at the climaxes of my stories."

He paused to look at me, though his large hands were still at work. "That's also what I like about you."

"That my eyes get big?"

He chuckled at me, shaking his head. "Yes! They are just so huge! It's simply irresistible!"

"Why thank...you..." my eyes drifted upwards toward the cathedral, with its high towers and the two beautifully carved rows of statues. Up on a pillar, high in the bell tower, something was climbing-slithering -up a pillar. I craned my neck to see well. "What is that?!"

"That, my dear, is the Bell ringer of Notre Dame." Clopin announced, ruffling my hair with one of his hands. I could still feel his touch tickling among my hair long after he had stopped.

"Who?"

"He rings the bells. He's said to be hideous- a demon in flesh," he cracked his knuckles, "I could tell you the story, but..."

"But what?"

"I can't tell stories on an empty stomach!"

I frowned at him. "Are you trying to ask me to dinner, or are you trying to trick me into having dinner with you?"

"Ah, you caught me! So I guess now I must confess...I've fallen in love with your company!" He took my hand in his again, but I didn't pull away from him this time.

"It seems though I already owe you one dinner, so I simply couldn't go unless..." I smiled at him, "you let me pay for it this time."

"You're a devil."

"But I thought I was innocent like a child?"

"Meet me in the tavern near sunset."

He didn't wait for me to say yes or no, but rather grabbed his little cart and headed off.

I wanted to tell him to wait, and to stay with him all day, all year! But I refrained, fingering the palm he had so heavenly clutched.

Was I obsessed or what?

It was even worse then the man I'd thought I liked for two years. He was old news now. Clopin Trouillfou had stolen my heart.

I sighed and shuffled down the street daydreaming and waiting anxiously for sunset. Then I almost fell on the floor laughing when I saw it, but instead I just stood there until they noticed me.

Gilbert and Vanessa had found a little corner by a bridge and were mouth to mouth. Naturally kisses don't last very long, but lets just say I saw the depths of both their mouths before Vanessa saw me. She ripped away from him, smiling ear to ear. I rolled my eyes.

Gilbert was clearly shocked at me being there, and threw his hat back on and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

The image of a guilty face.

"Meg! Umm, where have you been?" Vanessa asked, clearly having already thought up an alibi: ' What? I was looking for you! '.

I smirked at her. "Don't worry; I've been acting like a lady with proper upbringing."

She sneered at me, but quickly wiped it off her face to look and meekly wave at Gilbert. He walked briskly by her, waving, then shook my hand with his shaky one. It wasn't nearly as strong and big as Clopin's.

I sighed at Vanessa. How did I end up liking someone that even Vanessa was a little to young to like?

And how did she end up with the guy that would've been perfect for me at my age?

I smiled at her, wanting to be nice. "You look cute together."

She almost squealed, watching him walk away. "You really think so?"

"Yeah."

She gave me a really big, genuine smile. I was jealous again. She got what she wanted. How did she do that so fast? Didn't those kinds of things take time or whatnot?

"So what have you really been up to?"

"I don't know. I looked for you," I explained, "and then I saw Clopin and then I found you."

"Clopin again?"

"He's very funny."

"And he's twice your age," she scoffed at me.

"That doesn't mean he can't be my friend."

"Meg, what world do you live in?" she complained, "You keep hanging about with old men and people are going to start rumors."

"I don't care."

"Yes you do."

"I'm meeting him for dinner."

"What?"

"I'm meeting him for dinner," I repeated, taking major offense against her words. How could she be so insensitive?

"Why aren't you meeting Michel for dinner?" she asked me, rolling her eyes. "Michel is nice and cute and your age."

"He's twenty!"

"And you're sixteen. So when you're twenty and he's twenty four-"

"When I'm twenty, Clopin will be around thirty-four and that will be fine then too!" I argued, glaring at her. My face flushed and I was shocked I'd actually said that. Now she knew...

"You really like him."

"I'm going to the inn," I turned to walk away.

She scooted after me. "And so am I."

She chased me practically all the way to the inn, and I bounded into our room without a word to her. She even had the nerve to sit on the edge of my bed when I curled up on it.

"I'm sorry ok, but Megan. That's just so...," she breathed in, "sick."

I sat up and stared at her, my anger showing through my face. She looked suddenly guilty.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to me, reaching for my hand. "Forgive me."

"Don't I always?"

She looked away, shaking her head. "I'm trying to be the nice one here!"

"You do a horrible job, huh."

She got up and sat on her bed, huffing out air.

I wanted to slap her.

I should've slapped her.

"You think me and Gilbert could join you at dinner?" she asked. I looked at her, surprised by the kindness in her voice.

"Well, I don't know what Clopin would say...I don't even think Clopin considers me as an...Anything," I admitted.

"How about we just happen to see you there?"

"Sounds good to me."

"Great, I'll go find him!"

She left the room in a hurry.

I grabbed my pillow and hugged it, feeling like a pitiful child. A stupid, innocent child that wears its heart on its sleeve.

And the stupid, innocent child cried for a while, one of those silent cries where the tears fall one at a time until you stop sulking and get up.

I buried my face in my hands and wished with all my heart Clopin's hands were there to hold mine...