Rehearsals

Rehearsals were scheduled for more days than Eponine thought. They took five days (which were Saturdays, Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays) and were after school. She had to skip many of her dance classes, which were forgotten anyways with the move and settling in the neighborhood. She missed the feeling of the music pumping across the wooden floors, and her feet hitting the floor along to the rhythm. The beat was clear and her movements felt natural, but sacrifices had to be made if she was to pass her senior year.

At the first rehearsal on a Monday, she just made it just as they started handing out scripts and practicing. She heard the ruffling of the papers as everyone turned them, checking over their lines. Eponine walked down the aisle of the auditorium and sat herself next to Musichetta at the end of the second row. She watched everyone take out a marker and highlight their parts. Eponine stared at Mrs. Caballero at the front of the room, hoping mental telepathy would tell her teacher of her presence. As if it actually worked, Mrs. Caballero looked directly at her and smiled.

"Ah, I see you've decided to show," she told Eponine.

"I have. May I have my script please?" Eponine asked, eager to catch up with everyone else.

"Yes, of course." Mrs. Caballero sifted through her desk until she found Eponine's script.

Once the stack of papers was in her hand, Eponine's eyes widened. It felt heavier than she remembered. The side could be held easily, but still, it was large. Eponine brought the book to her lap, fearing that she had made a bad decision to audition.

"If you can't handle it, I'm sure someone else is willing to sub for you," Musichetta whispered. With a slight glance to her right, Eponine could see Musichetta's smirk. Eponine rolled her eyes. Of course Musichetta would be the one who caused her to do what she did not want to do. Any time Eponine doubted herself, Musichetta just agreed, which made Eponine try. Her best friend knew she loved proving people wrong and used it as a weapon.

Eponine took the bait, pulling out a yellow highlighter from her bag. She pulled the cap off with a pop and glared at the girl next to her. "Please. No one can replace me."

Musichetta shrugged and focused back on her script with a large, victorious grin on her face.

Eponine began highlighting around the second page. She watched the words that glowed brightly after being run over by her marker. It seemed it was never ending. Words flowed after one another, only stopping for a few lines to let someone else speak. Eponine was sure she would run out of ink before her character ran out of words.

"God, do you ever stop talking?" Eponine whispered to her page.

A raspy chuckle was heard behind her and she turned her head over her right shoulder. Grantaire sat behind Musichetta with Bahorel to his left. He sent her a wink, letting her know it was him who laughed. Eponine gave him a tight smile. Despite the assurances Courfeyrac gave her, she still felt a bit guilty for betraying him in a way.

"Is everyone at least half way?" Mrs. Caballero called out.

Eponine ran her highlighter along the pages for a few more lines before bobbing her head with the rest of the group.

"Let's start then! Bossuet and Musichetta, you are both at the beginning of scene one. The living room of 'Mr. Owens' estate."

Bossuet was playing Mr. Rodgers, the estate's butler. Musichetta played Mrs. Rodgers, Mr. Rodgers wife, and the cook and housekeeper. The two of them read their lines from their chairs, but they still read with emotion. If Eponine closed her eyes, she could picture them in the house, dusting off the chairs and listening to classical music.

A few minutes passed by, and she was still wrapped in a trance. There was no doubt Hugo had an amazing acting department anymore. They were just rehearsing lines, and still, she felt as if she was watching the story unfold in front of her.

"Eponine," Enjolras nudged her with his hand. She turned around to him, raising an eyebrow.

He coughed, a small smile forming on his lips. He then looked down at his script, looked back at her, and mouthed "it's your line." She gasped and turned around. Everyone was anticipating her line which she had not delivered. Musichetta handed her the script as the silence grew more and more deafening for Eponine.

Eponine looked apologetically at Mrs. Caballero before delivering her line. "Ah! How wonderful it was for the Owens to invite me! Hello, ma'am. I'm Vera Claithorne, private secretary of Mrs. Owen."

Musichetta leaned over to look at her script in Eponine's lap. "Good afternoon, Ms. Claithorne. May I take your coat and bag?"

"Yes, please! Thank you!"

"Hold it!" Mrs. Caballero called. "Eponine, tone it down a bit. You're on a formal trip at your boss's house, not at your new best friend's house."

Eponine nodded and said her line again. I better not fuck this play up for the school.

The next few rehearsals were similar. They blocked all of their scenes in the second to fourth practice. Lines were still being practiced, but Eponine picked up pretty quickly. She wondered if she still had any memory in her brain left for midterms.

The gist of the beginning of the play was pinned down. Many people had memorized a majority of their lines. They practiced the welcoming of all the guests, the playing of the accusations of murder, the death of almost every single character, and the hauntings around the house. Grantaire had told Les Amis that he planned to sneak in actual alcohol in the wine pitcher, eliciting a laugh from everyone. Mrs. Caballero had heard and made sure Grantaire was patted down before each practice.

The tenth rehearsal was coming up, and Eponine was fearing every second closer to it. A kiss between Vera and Lombard was bound to happen, Eponine knew what she was signing up for. Thinking about what she would do, she was not able to focus on her teacher's lesson. Eventually, his voice was not even heard.

Technically, Enjolras and Eponine were not kissing. It was Vera and Lombard, and yet Eponine could not help the nervousness and butterflies. This was her dream in sixth grade: she would get a sweet kiss from Enjolras. Of course her moving prevented any chance of that, but now she had a guaranteed shot. She thought the feelings were not there anymore.

Her French class ticked too fast in her opinion.

Soon the bell rang, and Eponine slowly got up out of her chair. She scooped up her binder up and swung her bag onto her back. She walked casually down the hall, taking a little longer than normal. Eponine walked with a swagger, as if this wasn't her first year and she owned the high school personally. People moved out of her way, and she would have enjoyed the treatment if she didn't know what was waiting for her at that auditorium.

Everyone acted like the day was completely normal, nothing special was going to happen. Beneath her tranquil façade, Eponine was going crazy. She thought of different ways to avoid the inevitable.

When everyone headed for their stations, Eponine jumped up from her seat too eagerly. She walked to the stage like she was heading to the guillotine. All her work on patching up their friendship might fall to pieces by one innocent theatre act.

They rehearsed the scene where Vera "kills" Lombard by his own gun. Bryce Stevens, who was playing Judge Wargrave, appeared on the stage. He performed his big scene where Wargrave explained how he was the killer. He stalked "Vera" around the stage with a rope in his hands. If Eponine's mind had not been preoccupied, she would have been amazed at how terrorizing Bryce seemed. A fake gunshot rang out, and Bryce fell to the floor. Enjolras emerged from behind the couch, and Eponine started to hug herself, shaking as if she were frightened. In truth, she was. The moment was drawing nearer.

Enjolras walked up behind her, and they both clung onto each other like they were their only lifeline. Eponine's heat beat picked up.

"I thought I shot you," Eponine whispered, still hugging "Lombard."

Enjolras fake laughed. "Thank god women can't shoot straight."

Eponine bit her lip and pushed on a smile. That one line always irked her. WOMEN CAN SHOOT STRAIGHT. WHY DON'T I SHOW YOU? Eponine would always think. She and Enjolras both tried to change the one line in the play, but Mrs. Caballero refused.

"Well, what do we do now?" Eponine asked him as he lifted her up from the ground. His hand was slightly calloused, but it was still soft and strong. She could feel his pulse pick up too.

The sound effect of the boat's whistle was heard, and Enjolras smiled. He led her up to a fake door at the back of the stage and grinned.

"One little soldier boy was left all alone, but then he took the hand of his soldier love…" Enjolras took her hand and leaned down.

"And together they happily went home," he finished.

Eponine looked up, her lips opened slightly. Enjolras was staring at her, a fire ablaze in his eyes. They slowly leaned towards each other and…

A/N: That was extremely rude of me, but I have to throw in an occasional cliff-hanger to keep you readers hooked. ;)

I hope you liked this chapter! I realized my previous one was slightly dull, so my apologies! I tried to add as much detail and description to this one! I will try as hard as I can to update soon. I'm seeing A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder next weekend, so I might take about two weeks before I update again. Sorry! Also, I got a pinterest, so feel free to follow me! I follow back. (I'm still trying to find out how to use it so…) I'm Imaginez Indefiniment, same as my tumblr.

Please review and tell me what you thought!

-Franky