Becoming Eponine *A Les Misérables Story*

Dream Eight

The crack of dawn jolted me awake and I leapt to my feet, tossing aside my bed's cotton covers as I watched Eponine get up. Excitement rushed through me as I darted to the nearly empty dresser we both shared, a small brush sat on top and I took it through my wavy hair a few times before setting it back down. I had left my rosette on top of the dresser so I grabbed it and pinned it to my dress. A small mirror was pushed against the wall and I examined my reflection. My whitish skin looked paler than usual, and my gray dress contrasted to it. My gray eyes looked back at me steely and my dark hair curled over my shoulders. The rosette seemed to be the only colorful thing I was wearing. The expression I had upon my face was one of determination and excitement, something usually lost in the eyes of the poor, or so it seemed. Eponine scrambled up next to me, wearing her green dress, rosette, and brushing her light brown hair up. Her gaze was more calculating and judgemental.

"Are you ready to speak to the people today?" She asked me in a rather monotonous voice, she didn't seem worried in the slightest, she must have done it many times, or she just didn't care how she appeared to the public.

"I think so." I replied simply turning away from the mirror and facing the wood hallways. Everything felt quiet and calm, either Enjolras was acting calmer than usual or everyone was still asleep. Eponine and I headed downstairs into the main room where we met Enjolras and Gavroche flipping through notes and Grantaire who looked as if he was in a daze as he stared up at the ceiling. Grantaire was one of the wisest of the students, I knew that for sure. But I also knew he was broken, and sad, and he had no reason for living if any of his friends died. Grantaire had always been a confusing and complex character, something I figured Combeferre didn't want to change as he wrote the story, our story.

"Just so you know, Joly and his wife Muschietta share their own apartment. Actually only Combeferre, Grantaire, Enjolras, Gavroche, Feuilly, you and me live in the cafe. The rest stay away but return every day. They all share a growing passion for the revolution. Marius it seems, is the only one who doesn't attend all the meetings. He's been acting different ever since he met Cosette. When I first met him at twelve, he was my best friend, and he was more active and seemed to be more carefree, sometimes I miss the old Marius." Eponine spoke slowly, I wondered if there was a time that Eponine did love Marius, but I didn't ask her, it would probably bring back sensitive memories.

"When are we going to start rallying up the people?" I ask as Eponine and I sit at the table. Gavroche looks up at us,

"Whenever the others are ready, we've decided to all go out and help." He says, excitement ringing out in his voice. I smile at Gavroche, his passion had always been admirable.

It was another quarter hour before everybody came over, I was pleased to see that Marius had come too, without Cosette. I was pleased that he was going to participate in the revolution and help. They all wore rosettes, and they all looked excited. Their eyes glowing and their mouths upturned into a grin. In a group we all headed out into the streets, outside of a building, the air felt cool and it swiped at my hair, sending it spiraling upwards. The last time I was in the streets was when I had run into Thenardier's gang. I remember seeing Brujon and Babet, I had knocked out Babet, unknowing if I had killed him. A chill went up my skin at the thought. All of the barricade boys were gathered in the square, their eyes glowing with anticipation. My stomach churned and for the first time I felt slightly anxious. Enjolras' grin was the widest I have ever seen, his blond locks rippled in the wind and his hands were clenched into fists.

We spent hours screaming to the people. Determination and excitement was packed into our voices and when we spoke, when we called out, the people stopped to listen. Contorted expressions of shock often upon their faces, sometimes expressions of disgust, and sometimes expressions of respect. Nonetheless, the people listened to our calls. Enjolras was the loudest unsurprisingly, his voice bellowed over all the others and he spoke with the most spirit. I smiled as I called, speaking of ideas of a new day. At one point one of the boys had gotten a French flag and they raised it, the cloth spiraling in the wind and catching the rays of sunlight. I smiled at the sight. All my worries were lost as I called into the air, that was until I saw the figures of Thenardier and Brujon pushing forward, their eyes dark and stony, their gaze fixed on Eponine and I.