Really, Psycho? Marsie? I thought that was a one time thing. I am considering eating the M&Ms I just spent $0.75 on. Humph.
Fluff. Fluff fluff fluff. I love it. So yeah this story shall have a lot of fluffity fluff. But not all, oh no. Because that would be uncharacteristically sweet for someone named after a song about slaughtering one's enemies and preparing to fight tyranny. Don't worry, I'm not going to go Psycho on you and randomly start writing about psychotic barbers. But even high school Les Amis aren't perfect...*hint hint foreshadowing hint*...
You should have known that by the title, dimwits. Just kiddng! Y'all ROCK! Okay, read on!
CHAPTER TWOOOOOOOOO! YAY! WE MADE IT TO ART CLASS! YAY!
Oh, and a note about French high schools. They go like this: 8am-12pm is one hour classes, then from 12-2pm is lunch/free time, then three one hour classes until 5. That's Monday-Wednesday, but Thursday and Friday only go 'til four. Saturday morning, from 8-10, the other hours are made up. Just so you aren't confused. And lycées (high schools) are also very spread out, with a campus and everything, like college or university in America (and everywhere else I suppose, but I live in the USA so that's my comarison...). Hope that was understandable. And 'today', in the story, is Monday, by the way. Ok.
"Write a poem in his blood? Really? A bit...harsh, maybe?" Cosette choked out through her laughter.
Jehan shrugged, smiling a bit. "Seems like that's what he would appreciate."
Art class was small, only eight people. Jehan plunked down next to Grantaire in the far corner, causing the boy to jump in surprise. Hastily, he flipped over whatever he was drawing and scowled.
"What?"
"This is Cosette. She was in World History, remember?"
Grantaire kept scowling. He grunted. "Yeah."
Jehan frowned. "Why are you so mad?"
The other boy shifted awkwardly. "No reason. I'm not mad, I just...don't like people looking at what I'm working on until I'm done."
Cosette smiled uncomfortably. "Um, me too, I guess..." she said, trying not to get lost in the conversation.
Jehan nodded and stood up to get a piece of paper. "Supplies are in that cabinet. Madame Florent doesn't really care what you do as long as it's some kind of drawing of a person or an animal."
Smiling a little, Cosette hesitated for a second and then said, "I always draw better if I can see my subject, or a picture of it, so...I was wondering, could I draw you?"
"Sure. I'll try and hold still. I've been drawing a raven, see?" He showed his paper, which depicted a flying black raven of charcoal contrasting against a white painted background. The eyes were droplets of red-it seemed like blood-, and it looked as if the bird was crying. On the feathered breast were written words, half finished in white, that went-
"Flying, at first, seems like falling,
And those who do not weep cannot observe the world."
It was titled, "Tears of Blood".
Cosette nodded, more than a little impressed. Quickly, she sketched out a rough outline of Jehan's profile. After about ten minutes, she told him he didn't have to hold so still anymore, and he complied.
XXX
Forty minutes later, Grantaire scribbled a messy "R", his chalkmark, in the lower right hand corner of his work and turned it in. Madame Florent looked up from her own drawing to examine his. Assessing it in a minute or two, she handed it back to him, saying that he had gotten an A.
As Grantaire walked back to his seat, Jehan asked, "now can I see your drawing? You're finished."
Grantaire shrugged like he didn't care and handed over the heavy paper. On it was all their friends- Bossuet, Joly, Bahorel, Feuilly, Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Jehan himself, Combeferre, Marius, and Enjolras. Éponine was also there, in the corner, looking at Marius. They were all in Le Musain, a coffee shop which they regularly attended.
The painting caught everyone mid-sentence, with Joly, Bossuet, and Bahorel in one corner playing cards, Courfeyrac clearly flirting with an unseen waitress, Jehan writing, Combeferre reading while Feuilly studied, and Enjolras in the center arguing with Marius. Only Grantaire himself was left out of it.
"Where are you?"
Grantaire shrugged and pointed to a broken glass bottle in the background under a table.
Jehan frowned. "Why...?"
Grantaire shrugged again. "Because I'm not a part of your little idealist group. I only go to the Musain because I know one of the waitresses and she gives me vodka-spiked coffee." And with that he picked up the painting, tucked it into a large folder, and strode out the door as the bell rang.
Jehan had Latin next, while Cosette had gym.
Combeferre was also in Jehan's Latin class. While discussing feminine past tense was extremely interesting, they managed to force themselves to whisper in the back. Combeferre already knew it all anyway, and Jehan had taken an online course so that he could read certian poetry. Both were excelling in the class, and thus had few if any qualms about discussing other things in the middle of it.
"Bossuet's ankle is sprained really badly. We just had gym together and I can tell you right now that there is no way he's going whitewater rafting on Saturday with us," said Combeferre.
Jehan frowned. "I need to have six people, though, and you, Bossuet, Courfeyrac, Bahorel, Feuilly, and I are the only ones who will come. Enjolras claims he needs to study, Grantaire just won't come, Joly doesn't want to fall out and get some sort of brain-eating amoeba he read about, Marius is on a trip to Marseille with his grandfather even though he didn't want to go, and I'm fairly certian Éponine would kill me if I took her or any of her siblings on a high-risk sport."
Combeferre frowned. "I guess you could ask Cosette, she seems pretty nice."
"I barely know her."
"It's not a date, you don't have to. Just tell her you have an open spot on a whitewater raft and if she comes, great; if not, then I'm sure Courfeyrac could find someone."
Nodding, Jehan muttered, "that'll work. Right, I'll ask her after school today. Now, about the incredibly interesting yet dead language of Latin..."
XXX
"Have you ever taken Spanish before?"
"A little, but not much," Cosette admitted.
Señor Huarez frowned. "You might want to consider switching to English or Latin, then. I'm afraid we don't really have a beginner Spanish course."
Cosette smiled humorlessly. "Right. I'll do English. Thanks."
Five minutes later, Cosette was in the classroom of Mr. Romero, who was strict, bald, and wore an orange tie with a green shirt and slacks.
"First rule," he said to Cosette, "no French. Pas de français, and that's the last French you will hear me say unless it's assignments."
Cosette tried very hard to keep up with what Mr. Romero was saying, but the unfamiliar words ran together.
"Hello. My name is Cosette Fauchelevent. I have seventeen years. I live-"
"No! In English it is 'I am seventeen', not 'I have seventeen years'."
"Hello. My name is Cosette Fauchelevent. I ha...am seventeen. I am from Paris, France."
"Correct."
Cosette sighed as Mr. Romero passed out the next assignment, practice conjugating the verbs 'to be' and 'to have'. I am, you/we/they/girls/boys are, girl/boy is. I/we/they/you/girls/boys have, girl/boy has.
It was a very long hour.
XXX
"How was Spanish?"
"Spanish? More like stupid English. I got switched," moaned Cosette good-naturedly. "My teacher enjoys telling us all we have horrible accents. Apparently I sound like I have been drinking lemon juice and my long i's are too short."
Jehan grimaced sympathetically, and Combeferre, who was with them, said, "English isn't too hard, it just has a ton of irregular verbs. But the conjugations are easier."
Cosette looked dubiously at the bespectacled student.
Said bespectacled student shrugged and said that he had learned English by the time he was fifteen.
"Right, but you know everything," quipped Courfeyrac, jogging over, "so just another language must be easy. Come on, right now would be a very bad time for DeClaire to catch me."
Without explaining, Courfeyrac quickly walked over to the building where Enjolras, Grantaire, and Feuilly had their last class.
"Oh! And Jehan, are we still on for rafting? Because Bossuet's ankle is purple and enormous. He showed me and Combeferre and Enjolras during gym and it was butt-ugly and not suitable for anything like that, probably."
Jehan nodded slowly, turning to face Cosette. "So," he said, "I work part-time doing whitewater rafting trips down the Marne river, at a place about thirty minutes outside Paris, and I was wondering if you might like to join me and my friends Saturday. Bossuet would have come, but with his ankle...that's probably not the best idea."
"Sure! I mean, I've never been whitewater rafting before, but it sounds like fun," said Cosette, "only I have to tell my dad. He's pretty protective, but I can probably come."
"Great! We leave after classes end Saturday, eat an early lunch, and then get going at about noon. It'll be good weather, and since we've had a lot of rain lately, the water will be high."
XXX
Cosette hurried home. Upon arriving, her father asked, "how was your first day?"
She smiled and replied, "I made several new friends, and classes were mostly good."
"Mostly?"
"English…it's pretty challenging."
Monsieur Fauchelevent nodded. "Any homework?"
"Just a little…two pages for English due Wednesday, a bit of calculus due Thursday, and I want to keep working on my art project. Oh, and in World History they're doing the French Revolution."
"Great."
Cosette shifted awkwardly. "Oh, and Papa?"
"Yes?"
"They invited me to go whitewater rafting with them on Saturday. One of them works there, and they needed an extra person. I promise they're all trustworthy, and I like them, and…"
Fauchelevent frowned.
"Please, Papa! It's just a few hours!"
"Bring your phone, and if anything, anything at all happens, call me. Okay?"
"Thank you! Thank you so much!" Cosette cried.