As I'm sure you're all aware, FF has been hugely screwed up the last couple days, so while I've been deprived of other aspects of this site... I managed to finish up this chapter. I've had the first half done for forever, actually... I just got stuck on Piper's part. :P
I WOULD LIKE TO THANK THE FOLLOWING PEOPLE: TangibilityTurquoise8678 (Lol accidentally wrote your name as "TangibilityTortoise" XD), .Dream, Death is my daddy, dramaqueen5611, and MaD aS a HaTtEr 14 for spreading the good will and happiness...BY REVIEWING! Again, if you ask questions in the reviews, I'll answer them here in the ANs!
I apologize for any misspellings or grammatical catastrophes you may or may not find in this chapter! The majority of the editing was done while listening to Hotel California on loop... so I dunno...
Also, yes, I gave Aphrodite a maiden name. I just searched on Google for "Greek surnames" or something XD
REGARDING JASON'S PART: It's long, it's boring if you know the story of Les Mis, and it's really explainy. I know. I put that in there for people who haven't seen Les Mis, so they won't be totally lost in later chapters. If you already know the story and don't want to read all of that, feel free to skip from the end of the list to the beginning of Grover's part, because you won't be missing much plot :)
The Cast List.
Jason had just gotten out of Biology and was on his way to lunch, when Connor Stoll ran up to him and exclaimed, "Mr. Brunner posted the cast list! It's outside his classroom!"
"Really?" His curiosity was immediately piqued. "I'll have to catch up with you later, sorry," he added to Reyna, who had been walking alongside him.
"No, I'm coming with you," she replied. "I actually want to know who got in!"
"You should've been there," he said, shoving her lightly.
"No way," she said with finality, shaking her head.
When they arrived at Mr. Brunner's room, a crowd had already formed, and Jason could hear shouts of "Nice job!" or "Well, there's always next time" or "They're perfect for the part!"
Something slammed into Jason, knocking him off balance, and he turned around to see a short dark-skinned girl running in the opposite direction. He rubbed his arm where she had shoved him, thinking she must be some poor rejected freshman.
But he had his own business here. He fought his way to the front of the crowd and quickly scanned the sheet that had been taped to the wall next to the door:
Jean Valjean - Grover Underwood.
Javert - Frank Zhang.
Cosette - Annabeth Chase.
Marius - Percy Jackson.
Fantine - Hazel Levesque.
Eponine - Piper McLean.
Enjolras - Jason Grace.
Gavroche - Nico di Angelo.
Thenardier - Travis Stoll.
Mme. Thenardier - Silena Beauregard.
Bishop - Connor Stoll.
Fauchelevent - Michael Yew.
Grantaire - Leo Valdez.
Bahorel - Dakota Mathews.
Combeferre - Jake Mason.
Courfeyrac - Will Solace.
Feuilly - Malcolm Chase.
Jean Prouvaire - Lee Fletcher.
Lesgle - Charles Beckendorf.
Joly - Chris Rodriguez.
Soprano 1 - Samantha Barron.
When Jason reached the part listing the chorus members, he stopped reading. He'd already spotted his name, obviously, and when he had, his spirits had risen so high he was sure they were now through the roof… and he was currently standing in the school's basement. He couldn't honestly say he hadn't been surprised at landing such a large role, especially for being new to drama.
Reyna looked at Jason with one eyebrow raised. "You're going to have to tell me who exactly your character is, because I've never seen this movie."
"It was a musical on stage before it was ever a movie, you know," Jason reminded her. "Do we need to catch you up on the fine arts?"
Reyna rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, spare me."
Before Jason could reply, Dakota, one of Jason's friends from the student council, came up to them and clapped Jason on the shoulder. "Nice job, man," he said.
"Yeah, you too," Jason said, glancing back at the list. "So you aren't just a chorus boy like you told me you were going to be!"
Dakota shrugged. "Life is full of surprises."
"So what's this play about, boys?" Reyna asked.
"A convict who broke parole," Dakota started.
"And stole some silver from a bishop," Jason added. "When he got caught, the bishop said that he'd actually given the silver to the convict, whose name was Jean Valjean, and told the guards who'd caught him that they should let him go."
"What kind of idiot-" Reyna interrupted. "Never mind. Keep going."
"Because of the bishop's kindness, Valjean decided he'd become an honest man, and he eventually becomes the mayor of a town," Jason said.
"Then there's this other girl," Dakota jumped in, "Her name's Fantine. She has a young daughter, who she sent to live with some nasty innkeepers called the Thenardiers because she couldn't support her daughter by herself since the father left them. She has a job at a factory, but gets fired. In order to still get the money to send to the Thenardiers as payment for taking care of her kid, she has to become a prostitute-"
"Wow," Reyna said, shaking her head, "this sounds like a real cheerful play."
"Soon after that, Valjean, who's the mayor and is going by the name Madeleine," Jason said, "is the only one who's willing to help a guy who gets trapped under a cart. Now, there's also a police officer watching this, and he says that no one could be strong enough to lift that cart except for one guy - the convict who broke his parole. And, of course, that's who he is."
"Oh, I want to say this part," Dakota said. "A different guy, who's suspected to be Valjean, is arrested, and the real Jean Valjean doesn't want to see an innocent guy go to jail in his place, so he goes to the court and tells everyone that he is the real deal."
"Again, why?" Reyna asked, looking baffled.
"Hey, you forgot a part," Jason said. "The mayor took Fantine to a hospital, and after the whole court thing, he went back there, and promised Fantine that he'd take care of her kid, who was living with the nasty people, right? Well, Fantine dies and Javert confronts Valjean, who begs for three days to go and get Fantine's child. Javert doesn't want to do that, and they argue, and Valjean ends up knocking him out and running away."
"Oh, right," Dakota said, remembering. "Sorry about that. Anyway, the kid, Cosette, is getting abused by the inkeepers, and Valjean pays them to take her off their hands, and he can do that, 'cause he's the rich mayor. So now Valjean has a fake daughter."
"Time jump, nine years in the future!" Jason exclaimed. "This is where I come in. Paris, France is in chaos, because the one general who treats the poor like they aren't scum is about to die. Enjolras, played by yours truly, and his buddy Marius, along with a few other guys-"
"Like me," Dakota interrupted.
"-yeah, they start to plan an uprising. The Thenardiers have lost their inn by now, and it's no wonder because they had awful customer service, and they're poor now. Their daughter Eponine, who used to be mean to Cosette, now likes to hang out with the revolutionaries, and she's completely in love with Marius."
"Only it's funny because he completely friend-zoned her and then he runs into Cosette and falls in love with her at first sight," Dakota added.
"That isn't funny… that's kinda sad, actually," Reyna said, but she appeared to be holding back a laugh.
"Right," Jason said. "A lot of stuff happens after that, like Marius convinces Eponine to help him stalk Cosette, and the whole night ends with Valjean deciding that he needs to take Cosette and leave the country."
"That escalated quickly," Reyna muttered.
"We're finally at the end of Act One!" Dakota said happily. "Valjean is getting ready to exile himself, Cosette and Marius part ways but are really sad about it, Eponine is kinda angsty, Javert talks about his plans to spy on the students who are starting the uprising, and Enjolras is just stirring everyone up and getting them really psyched for the fight."
"Can I get the shortened version of Act Two?" Reyna moaned. "I'm getting hungry."
"Um, I'll try," Jason said. "Javert pretends to be a revolutionary and Gavroche, who's this ten year old kid, rats him out to the others, and Eponine, who's dressing up like a guy so she can be in the fight, gets shot and dies."
"This part's a little long," Dakota said thoughtfully. "I'll have to condense it, like, a lot. Eventually the rebels realize that they're doomed and pretty much everyone except Marius dies, which gives him some serious survivor's guilt. He does get hurt, though, and Valjean carries him through the sewers, only he runs into Javert, who can't bring himself to arrest Valjean, because he'd saved his life earlier."
"When was this?" Reyna frowned.
"Earlier," Jason said. "Hey, no complaining, you wanted the short version! Javert can't deal with the fact that Valjean might not be as bad as he thought, so he commits suicide by jumping off a bridge into a river."
"And that's about it, all that happens after that is Marius and Cosette get married and Jean Valjean dies in a convent," Dakota concluded.
"So…" Reyna looked like she was deep in thought. "By my calculations, the only ones who actually survive the entire play are Marius, Cosette, and those innkeepers?"
Jason thought for a second, then nodded. "Yeah, pretty much."
Grover was one of the first ones to see the cast list, because he'd been walking by right when Mr. Brunner was putting it up. He'd been scared to see what it said, but he'd gathered what little courage he had and took a quick glance.
A quick glance was all he needed. His name was the first one on the list. Quite against his will, a strange feeling started to swell up inside of him. It took a few seconds for him to identify it as pride. He was proud of himself for getting the lead role, which confused him a bit. Wasn't he supposed to be content with being the shadow?
He supposed he didn't just want attention for attention's sake. He wanted attention for something he, Grover Underwood, did completely on his own. This would qualify.
Well, Professor Leneus, he thought. You got what you wanted. I'm in a play. Then he wondered if it wasn't just Professor Leneus who'd gotten what he wanted.
"Hey," one of the guys standing next to him asked, "do you know who Grover Underwood is? Is he new?"
Grover smiled wryly. This was more what he was used to. "Well… I'm Grover Underwood."
"Oh," the guy said, shifting his weight. "Well, I'm Frank Zhang. Uh, nice job, I guess. In getting the lead role, I mean. Hey, I'm kind of your archenemy now."
"You're what?" Grover asked. Then he looked back at the cast list and found Frank's name. "Ah. Got it. Nice." Grover wished he could manage to say words that were more than one syllable long. What was it about people that caused him to stress so much?
Frank shook his head. "I don't know how well this is going to work out for me. I mean, look at me! Do I look like a policeman to you?"
"Well, that's the thing about acting," Grover managed to say. "It's not you up there, it's someone else." Which is how I manage it, he thought, but didn't say.
Frank nodded, like he got it. "I never really thought of it that way. I, uh, I better go to lunch. So… see you around?"
"Yeah," Grover said, relieved to have the conversation over. As conversations go, that one could have been worse, but it was still an interaction. With a human. A human he was not related to.
In drama class that afternoon, everyone received their scripts, and also got a list of musical numbers that their character would be in. Grover was aware that his would be frighteningly long, but he still managed to be slightly intimidated by the list. Look Down; Valjean Arrested, Valjean Forgiven; Valjean's Soliloquy; At the End of the Day; Fantine's Arrest; The Runaway Cart; Who Am I?; The Confrontation… it went on and on.
"Tomorrow night we'll have our cold reading of the script," Mr. Brunner told the class. "By then, I'll have your CDs so you can practice your songs, but sometime before the cold reading you should read over your lines, work out the voice you'll be using for your character. Remember, this play takes place in France, so you should at least have a bit of a French accent."
"What if we don't know what a French accent sounds like?" a freshman girl asked, and Grover had to smirk a little at that. Mr. Brunner wouldn't take that as an excuse.
"Then look it up online! That's how you do all the rest of your work, isn't it?" Mr. Brunner said jokingly. In front of Grover, Frank Zhang looked away awkwardly, which made Grover curious, but he decided that was Frank's business. "Or you can listen to some of your peers' accents tomorrow night. On Thursday night, I'd like to work on the opening scene a bit, so I'll need Valjean, Javert, and some of the chorus boys to be the chain gang… I'll specify who exactly that will be on Wednesday in class. Our next all-cast rehearsal after the cold reading will be on Saturday, and I'm not completely sure of what we'll be doing, but I think I'm going to have Mr. Silenus start teaching you the music to One Day More. We'll start figuring out blocking in class next week."
The scratching of pens on paper could be heard all over the room as everyone scrambled to write down the dates.
Grover suddenly realized just how much work he was in for, but at the same time he realized how much he wanted to do this. He was ready.
When Piper got home from school, she assumed that no one was home like usual, and began to retreat up to her room. The second her foot hit the bottom step, she heard the loud clacking of expensive (and impractical) high heels across the floor and knew that she had been wrong.
"Piper! How was school?" Her mother, Aphrodite Alexiou-McLean, asked. She was holding a plate of cookies, and for a second Piper entertained the thought that her mother was like everyone else's mothers, which made her smile a bit. She knew, however, that the cookies were not made by her mother, but by the family's personal chef.
"School was fine," Piper said. "I got into the play I tried out for."
"Oh, that sounds nice," her mother said absentmindedly. Piper waited for her mother to say something else, but no more words came. She was acutely aware of every small detail in the room, and she fixed her eyes on them, flitting to a different one every few seconds, looking anywhere except at her mother. The large, grand Greek-style columns. The marble spiral staircase she was stepping onto with one foot and the polished handrail she was gripping like it was her lifeline. It was what would most likely be called an "awkward moment."
Finally, her mother cleared her throat and said, "I was cast in a movie today," in that false-cheerful tone that one uses when thrown into a situation out of their element. Piper was sure her mother wouldn't have said anything at all, except for the fact that she disliked awkwardness almost as much as Piper.
"Cool," Piper said, longing to dash up the stairs into the solitude of her bedroom, but knew it would seem rude if she made a run for it now.
"Now," her mother said abruptly, changing the subject, "I'm sure you have plenty of homework to do, you should go and get it done." Piper didn't even stay long enough to tell her Yes, I do have some homework, I'll see you later! She was halfway up the stairs before her mother even had gone into the kitchen to set down the plate of cookies.
Once she was in her room, she closed the door behind her and sighed, slinging her backpack off her shoulder and depositing it in a corner. Why could she never have a normal conversation with her mom? She was the woman who gave birth to her, for every deity that anybody believed in's sake! Maybe her relationship with her mom was normal, she reasoned, and it was her close bond with her father that was out of the ordinary. She had, after all, heard many people at school complaining about their parents, cussing them out behind their backs, saying over and over again how they just didn't understand the stuff teenagers had to deal with.
She would never dream of saying things like that about her father. They would be lies. Her dad understood her… well, most of the time. He didn't seem to understand the parts where Piper told him all about how she just wanted to have a normal family, where they ate dinner together and saw each other every day and knew each other so well they could tell who was coming up the stairs without looking just by the way their footsteps sounded.
It was so unrealistic it made her sick.
Piper sat on her bed, drifting somewhere between sleeping and actually doing homework, when her door opened. It was so unexpected it made her flinch a little before she saw the figure standing at the door, who happened to be her father, Tristan McLean.
"Sorry for barging in on you like that, Pipes," he said with a tired grin. "I knocked a couple times, but you didn't seem to hear me."
She smiled apologetically. "I was a little sleepy."
"You're not the only one." He walked over to sit on the edge of her bed. "I came in here because I wanted to ask you - are you all right with your new school?"
And there it was. The million-dollar question. Would Piper be weak today, or would she be strong? She weighed the options in her head. Pros: The play. Cons: The people. She ended up simply sighing and saying, "I'm not sure."
Her dad tilted his head in curiosity (and concern, Piper thought). "Now what does that mean in terms of yes and no?"
"I think I'll try it a little longer." There. Would that be enough?
He smiled. "Okay. You do that." He stood up and walked over to the door. "I have an important video conference business meeting in a few minutes, so I'll have to leave you to your own devices now, but when you get hungry, there's plenty in the fridge. If you don't see anything you like, ask the cook and she'll whip something up for you." He opened the door and left, closing it behind him. She could hear him walk down the stairs, and suddenly felt terribly alone.
But that was all right. She was used to it.
It was only first hour, and Frank was already having a pretty bad day. How was he supposed to have remembered that he should have written out all the vocabulary terms and their definitions for English last night? He could already hear his teacher's response: You should have written it in your planner. And his reply: I don't have a planner. Then get one. I don't have time. Frank, it takes five minutes to walk into the Dollar Store, buy a planner, and walk out again. Okay. I'll try. Good. I'm only trying to get you to organize your work, which will help you become a better student, and in turn a more efficient person. I know. Good. Go back to your seat and work on the grammar assignment. Okay.
And of course he wouldn't get one anyway, so what was the point of even starting that conversation? It would serve absolutely no purpose. As he began to diagram some tediously long sentences full of words like "shalt" and "thy" and "est" added onto the ends of words that it didn't really need to be added on to. Old English can go die in a hole, he thought. He also thought a few things that were worse than that, but he wouldn't be repeating them, especially not in front of his mother.
He glanced at the clock. Ten minutes of class left. There was no way he was going to get this done by then. Out of thirty sentences, he was on the third one. He'd have to take it home and do it there. But he wouldn't have time, he realized, because of the cold reading. (Of course, there were four hours between the time school was out and the time he had to be at school again for the reading, but he chose to ignore that, seeing as those four hours were typically known as his veg-out-with-some-snacks-in-front-of-the-TV-or-computer hours.)
That cold reading thing was worrying him a little, though. He knew the majority of Les Miserables wasn't spoken - it was sung. Sing-talking. There was a word for that, he was pretty sure, but he couldn't remember what it was. He hadn't done any singing - besides his audition - since he signed up for boys' choir in fifth grade.
And that was before he'd gone through puberty. He sang soprano.
Hopefully, Mr. Brunner would have them reading their lines by talking first. Oh, and Frank was still a little iffy about Brunner's choice of a role for him. The ruthless, dedicated policeman? Really? Frank couldn't pull off a ruthless and dedicated anything. He'd have to either step it up and give it a shot tonight, or tell Brunner he'd be dropping out. Although Frank did have a tendency to slack, he also didn't like to give up on things. Also, dropping out before the first rehearsal would be a major loser move.
The bell rang, and he gathered up his things, shoving the paper he was working on into his backpack, where it was sure to be crumpled beyond recognition by lunch hour. That was all right. That way he could tell his teacher tomorrow he'd lost it instead of been too… ah, indolent to do it. He couldn't describe himself as lazy, even though everyone else seemed to have no problem with doing it.
Lazy was such an overused term. Frank much preferred the words "selective participation." That was, after all, much more accurate for his situation.