In My Life

Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

"You're such an ass," I tell Montparnasse with a smile.

"And you, mon amie, are such a-"

"Careful what you say there, 'Parnasse," a voice says.

We immediately spin around, startled, and spot Montparnasse's gang approaching us.

"She's a tough one, I know," he replies.

"Knocked my shoulder off the other day," another one of his friends adds.

"Yeah, right," I say while rolling my eyes.

"And how are you doing, Miss Thénardier?" the one on the left asks.

I shudder at the sound of that name.

"Adam, don't call her that," Montparnasse tells him.

He hunches his shoulders.

"So, 'Parnasse," the one on the right continues. "We're going off to town. Want to come?"

"You know, I was kind of spending time with Ep-"

"She can come too, no problem," Adam cuts in.

And don't get me wrong, I swear he was looking at me in that weird way guys do when, I guess, they like what they see. I don't mind; he's kind of cute.

"Oh, come on, I hear there are some pretty ladies near Café Musain," one of his friends adds.

I roll my eyes and, lucky me, he noticed it.

"Hey, we're guys," he says, as if that explained his behaving like an ass.

"Fine," I reply. "Whatever. Let's go."

"Ha! I knew she'd want to go. Mademoiselle wants to check out what's happening in Café Musain."

I shoot a look at Montparnasse.

"What's happening in Café Musain?"

But Montparnasse's face has just gone white. I see him looking at his friend with that look he makes when he's stressed out.

"Montparnasse?" I try again.

"Nothing," he firmly says, keeping his eyes on his friend. "Nothing's happening at Café Musain."

And then he's off towards the city, hands in his pockets.

"He's just jealous," another one of his friends explains.

"Jealous? Why?"

The guy smiles.

"Les Amis de l'ABC," he simply replies.

I watch his other friends running up to him, grabbing him by the arm. Soon the rest of the gang are behind them. What did he mean by 'jealous'? Why would Montparnasse act this way over a gang of students?

"He's acting weird," a voice says from my right.

I snap back to reality as I realize that one of his friends is still standing right next to me. I hunch my shoulders.

"It's been a rough day," I explain.

"How come?"

I bite my bottom lip.

"Mostly because of me," I admit.

"Well, Mademoiselle, I strongly doubt that."

"And who are you to say this?"

He smiles. That kind of smile that makes you a little bit incomfortable.

"I'm just a guy," he answers. "A guy that has spent his life analyzing people."

"Oh? And what did you find about me?"

He approaches his face, his mouth inches away from mine. But then, at the last moment, he shifts his gaze and glues his cheek right on the spot where my Papa hit me early.

"You," he whispers in my ear. "You wear a solid shell to cover the broken pieces inside. But now I see your shell is falling to pieces, too."

And with that he's gone, off to join the rest of his friends. I look at him in shock.

I am definitely not broken.

But then a voice resonates in my head. Would a broken soul know that it's broken?

I look at myself through a shard of glass sticking out of a broken window to my right.

Of course, it would know that it's broken.

I look back at the group of guys walking in front, some laughing, others rolling their eyes. I shake the thought out of my head and pick up the pace to join them. But the words are still going through my mind.

Of course, it would know. It would know for sure.