A few more years passed and the three of them became even closer friends. They were all twelve years old.
Fantine's hair touched her waist. It was a beautiful golden color that was usually hung loose or half up, half down. Today however, her hair was French-braided back. She was wearing a black dress, black stockings, and black shoes. It was windy out and the leaves blew around on the ground. Her blue eyes were downcast as she stood next to Jean and Javert. Her black shawl was hanging loose.
Javert's black hair was combed neatly. He was wearing a formal black suit. A black hat was clutched in his hands as a sign of respect.
Jean was staring at the ground, in grief. He had a black shirt on and black pants. He was wearing an over-sized coat, given to him by his father. The three kids were standing by the grave.
Jean's favorite teacher ever was Myriel. Myriel was nice and kind, and was always there to talk with Jean. He always helped him and let him have some of his lunch when he was hungry.
Myriel had died a week before. He was old, and had gone into requirement. He was blind, but Jean still visited him. Three years of a solid and deep friendship had really made Jean a better person.
Fantine and Javert tried to comfort him, but they knew that Jean wasn't just going to go about his business easily. Jeanne was watching her brother, with a frown.
"I can't believe he's dead," Jean said.
Fantine wrapped her arms around him, "Don't worry, he's still going to be watching over you."
Javert nodded somberly.
Jean sighed and hugged Fantine. He buried his face in her shoulder.
"We still have each other," Fantine said. She reached a hand out and touched Javert's shoulder.
Javert nodded again. Jean broke apart from Fantine and sighed.
"It's getting cold kids, you should head inside," an adult said.
"Come on," Fantine said, turning away. Javert glanced at Jean and followed her. Jean stood there a moment, staring at the grave, before turning and going with them.