Gaston loved attention. He lived for it, in fact. Ever since he had been a small boy, he had sought out ways to make himself the center of attention. He walked before anyone else his age. He talked first, and as he got older, he grew taller and more handsome than anyone else. With his dark hair, piercing eyes, and broad shoulders, he was indeed good-looking. The girls loved him; the boys worshiped him. And Gaston? He soaked up the attention and reveled in it.

But there was a limit to just how much attention Gaston could get growing up in a small village. And it had irked him. Then, to his great delight, France had gotten involved in the war. Gaston had seen the war not as an opportunity to defend his country but as a chance to wear a dashing uniform and woo the ladies, which he had done, with gusto, when he became a certified war hero—twelve years ago.

Gaston still wore his uniform.

And he still believed himself the most handsome and manliest man in the entire village.

Now he leaned against a pink wall waiting for LeFou, his sidekick. With his yellow hunting gloves, red tunic with a yellow collar and a long V-cut neckline, black tights, brown belt with a gold buckle around his waist, and brown boots, he started getting more frustrated waiting.

"Wow! You didn't miss a shot, Gaston." If Gaston was a lion of a man, which many a person had called him over the years, the man beside him was a house cat. LeFou was everything Gaston was not. Where Gaston was tall and muscled, LeFou was short and soft. Where Gaston was all smooth, practiced moves and well-rehearsed lines, LeFou was stumbling incoherent babble. And where Gaston was known and worshiped by all, LeFou was barely a footnote in the eyes of the villagers. Still, Gaston had a soft spot for the little guy—mostly because LeFou was his biggest fan. "You're the greatest hunter in the whole world!" LeFou went on.

Gaston puffed out his already puffed-out chest even more and puffed out the smoke coming from his shotgun. "I know."

"No beast alive stands a chance against you. And no girl for that matter."

"It's true, LeFou." The dark-haired man's eyes narrowed as if he were a wolf spotting his prey. "And I've got my sights set on that one." Following Gaston's pointing shotgun, LeFou saw what had caught his friend's attention. There, Belle was making her way through the village square. Her bright blue dress was flattering against her rich auburn hair.

"The inventor's daughter?"

"She's the one. The lucky girl I'm going to marry."

"But she's..." He had almost just done the one thing he prided himself on never doing— offending Gaston. Lucky for him, Gaston interrupted.

"The most beautiful girl in town. And that makes her the best." Gaston lifted LeFou up with his right arm. "And don't I deserve the best?"

"Well, of course, I mean, you do."

Belle heard the sound of boots. Instantly, Belle recognized the man behind her. It was Gaston. Behind him, his ever-present sidekick, LeFou, was struggling to keep up on his little legs carrying everything on his back.

She'd had one too many run-ins with the war hero. Every time, it went the same way. Gaston would preen like a peacock while he boasted of his latest hunt or told her a tale from his glory days in the war. Belle would try not to roll her eyes. The villagers—especially the female ones—would swoon and whisper how lucky Belle was, and ultimately, Belle would walk away feeling the need to bathe. She knew that Gaston was considered by many—well, all if she was being honest—to be quite the catch. But she just couldn't stand the man. There was something beastly about him.

Like now, she thought as she hidden in the crowded area of the market. Gaston was scanning the crowd like a wild animal. Belle groaned as his eyes locked on hers and he began to push through the villagers to get to her. She turned and hurried off in the opposite direction, hoping the other villagers would distract him.

"Hello, Belle," he said, hopping down from a rooftop. She took a step backward.

"Bonjour, Gaston," Belle said not taking her eyes of her book.

Gaston just grabbed the book. "Gaston, may I have my book, please?" Belle asked, trying to control her anger.

"How can you read this? There's no pictures."

"Well, some people use their imagination."

"Belle, it's about time you get your head out of those books," Gaston began, throwing her book into a mud puddle, "and paid attention to more important things - like me. The whole town's talking about it. It's right for a woman to read. Soon she starts getting ideas and thinking."

She didn't care what Gaston said or how he made himself feel better. She knew the truth: Gaston, despite his massive physical size, was no bigger than the small provincial town. And there was no way she would ever share her dinner table with him. Not now, not ever. "Gaston, you are positively primeval."

"Why, thank you, Belle. What do you say you and me take a walk over to the tavern and take a look at my trophies?"

Gaston gripped her arm but Belle shook it loose. "Maybe some other time. Please, Gaston," Belle said, furious that he had ruined her book. "I have to get home to help my father. Good-bye!" She picked up her book and began walking away.

As LeFou approached, he muttered with a sneer, "Your father? That crazy old loon. He needs all the help he can get."

Belle spun around. "Don't talk about my father that way! He's a genius!" But before she could say anything else -BOOOOOOM! - an explosion shook the ground. A plume of smoke rose from a small house just up the road. Belle's house! "Papa!" Belle screamed. Quickening her pace, Belle made her way out of the village center. Moments later she arrived back at her cottage. It was a cozy little house, with a small staircase leading up to the front door and large picture windows. There was also a nice garden out front and a detached basement workshop for her father.

But Belle hadn't time to appreciate that. When she yanked the door of her father's workshop, thick smoke billowed out. In the midst of it, sitting beside a broken hulk of wooden slats and metal gears, was her father, Maurice.

She ran to his side. "Are you all right, Papa?"

Coughing and muttering, Maurice stood up and kicked his invention. "How on Earth did that happen? Doggone it! I'm... I'm about ready to give up on this hunk of junk."

Belle smiled. "You always say that."

Seeing his daughter, Maurice smiled. His eyes, the same warm color as Belle's, were bright and focused. When he straightened his shoulders, he grew taller and leaner, still handsome in his older age. "I mean it this time! I'll never get this this boneheaded contraption to work!"

Belle smiled, relieved that he wasn't hurt. "Yes, you will. And you'll win first prize at the fair tomorrow - and become a world-famous inventor."

"You really believe that?" Maurice said, a small smile flickering across his face.

"I always have," Belle said confidently.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Maurice said, grabbing a tool. "I'll have this thing fixed in no time!" Maurice slid under his invention on a kind of skateboard. "Hand me that... the dog-legged clincher there." As Belle was searching in his cluttered toolbox, he asked her, "Did you have a good time in town today?"

She found what she was searching for and handed him the tool. "I got a new book. Papa, do you think I'm odd?"

Hearing her tone, Maurice looked up from his work. He frowned. "My daughter? Odd? Where would you get an idea like that?"

"I don't know, I'm just not sure I fit in here," Belle said. She looked at her father sadly. She never understood why they even moved here. Back in Paris, she found bookworms just like her. Of course, because of your mother's death was always the answer. She didn't remember her mother. All she had were the stories her father told her. But remembering was hard on Maurice, so he gave her only snippets from time to time. "There's no one I can really talk to."

Belle's voice had grown soft with that last comment. Her father nodded knowingly. "What about that Gaston? He's a handsome fella."

"He's handsome, all right, and rude and conceited and... Oh, Papa, he's not for me."

"Well, don't you worry. 'Cause this invention's gonna be the start of a new life for us." Maurice gave his daughter a warm smile.