Memoirs of Les Amis de l'ABC

Chapter Eleven: Meet Me Inside

"Gavroche, wait!" Sybill laughed.

The little blonde-haired boy was dragging the woman by the hand through the streets madly en route to the Café Musain. It was nearing two in the afternoon, and he was simply bursting with energy. His brown cap threatened to fall off of his mess of ragged hair, and one of the straps of his overalls began to flap chaotically in the breeze he crafted. The sky-blue material of Sybill's dress dragged across the ground bringing mud on the hemming that she knew Cosette would scold her for later. Her hair had been wrapped backwards in a tight bun though stray curls were now spilling to the sides and sticking to the beads of sweat on her forehead and chin as she held the skirt of her dress with one hand and Gavroche's palm in the other.

Sybill struggled to stay with him until Gavroche suddenly stopped without a warning. The girl gave a shout as she fell over onto the pavement. The girl fell over onto her hands and knees on the hard cobblestone road. The white smock she wore was now covered in black dirt and grime. Gavroche noticed the girl in an instant and apologized, trying to help her up. Sybill only laughed and took the hand of the little gentleman though she felt a shooting pain in her ankle from her stumble.

"I'm quite alright, little monsieur," lied Sybill to the man with a smile. "It is perfectly fine so long as you have a good reason for allowing my fall."

"I spotted her!" Gavroche whispered fiercely, pointing towards a figure in a doorway.

Sybill looked to where the little boy was pointing. Her eyes caught the end of a dress that looked like mere layers of rags of green and brown hues. The end of the skirt was gone in a flash. Gavroche looked up at Sybill then back to the alleyway where Sybill swore she had seen the end of a skirt.

Gavroche looked back up to Sybill with a remarkably faraway gaze in his eyes for the lad. He took a small, weak breath. "Sybill, you know the-"

"Gavroche, who is she?" questioned Sybill. "Who is it who waits for you in the alley? Who is it whose skirt is so torn?"

"'Tis no one!" shrugged the lad with a casual air.

"If it is no one, then you will permit my forbidding you to enter the alley," Sybill said with a firm tone to her voice.

Gavroche looked at the girl and bit his lip. His face looked utterly crestfallen as his eyes focused on the cobblestones underfoot. Sybill's heart shattered looking at the boy. With a resolute sigh, she nodded, relenting. "I will allow you to enter the alleyway," Sybill conceded. "So long as it is safe for you to do so."

"It is safe," Gavroche assured her. "It is very, very safe."

"Where and when can I meet you?" Sybill inquired. "We must meet soon for it is our night to prepare supper, and you still have lessons."

"I need no lessons," complained Gavroche.

"That might have worked had you said it properly," smirked Sybill. "I was instructed to teach you, and you have been left in my charge. If you wish for me to trust you on this excursion, you must answer me with when you shall return and to where we shall meet."

Gavroche sighed exasperatedly realizing he was fighting a war for naught on his side. "I will be in Madame Dubois's bakery at four."

Sybill frowned. "Will you not be attending the meeting with the men this afternoon?"

"No," Gavroche shook his head. "That snotty old man wrote another paper. They've been discussing it nonstop the past few days. It bores me to no end."