CHAPTER
III
Combeferre flopped down in the shade cast by the Maison Française,
breathing hard. His panting turned into ragged, breathless sobs,
and he just sat there, ignoring the people walking by, who afforded him
a strange look every once in a while. Little by little, his breathing
grew more controlled, and he wiped his eyes on the back of his hand.
“Is he right? Is there something wrong with me? Am I just some
stupid, overly-sensitive fag? I don’t get it, I don’t get any of
it.” He shook his head and closed his eyes. “I dunno…maybe it’s the lack
of sex. I’ve heard that can mess up your mind. God, I need
a boyfriend. Or a drink. Preferably both.”
“Did I hear someone mention a drink?” A raspy voice sounded nearby, and
Ian looked up quickly, unaware that there had been somebody there.
A ragged-looking thing was sitting beside him in the shade, its dark hair
falling in greasy strands around its face. It took Combeferre a moment
to discern the gender of the creature, and he finally convinced himself
that he was talking to a girl, a couple of years older than he.
“What do you want?” he asked, folding his arms across his stomach in a
rather uninviting position.
“Not much,” she answered, pushing some of the hair behind her ears. “Just
thought you looked a little down, so I’d come over and see what was up.”
“I’m fine.” Combeferre was more than a little wary. “Who are you, anyway?
You look familiar.”
The girl’s homely face burst into a hideous grin. “Ah, I do, do I?
The name’s Grantaire.” She rolled up the sleeve of her oversized shirt,
sticking out her hand. “Frances Grantaire.”
“Ian Combeferre,” the philosopher answered, shaking her offered hand. “Are
you a student, Frances?”
“Do I look like a student to you, boy? And don’t call me Frances.
‘Grantaire’ will do nicely.”
“No, admittedly, you look nothing like a student,” Combeferre said, trying
to stop from staring at that greasy hair.
“You probably saw me at that bar down the street, Corinne’s, or whatever
it’s called. I’ve seen you there.”
“You have?” Combeferre wondered who this girl was, who seemed to know so
much about him already.
“Yeah.” Her eyes, dark and deep, became somewhat wistful. “You’re always
with that other guy. The blond one.”
Combeferre lips twisted into a pout. “You mean Enjolras. I don’t
want to talk about him right now.”
“Oh, is that his name? Enjolras…hm.” She seemed nonchalant. “So,
did he break your heart, or something?”
“Marc? Hell, no.” Combeferre did get a chuckle out of that. “He’s
not gay, at least not that I know of. He’s my roommate. It’s
just a stupid argument, I’m sure I’ll get over it.”
“Oh.” Grantaire nodded. “I see.”
They sat in silence for a moment, and Combeferre finally said, “Well, I
should go back and talk to him. It’s getting close to three.”
“What happens at three?” his companion asked curiously.
“Oh, the rally. Out in front of the library. My friends and
I are in charge of it, so I ought to show up for my own rally.” He stood,
offering a hand to Grantaire. She ignored it and stood on her own.
“I’ll come with you,” she suggested. “I could use a little excitement.”
Ian shrugged. “If you want.”
**************************
Enjolras was sitting cross-legged on his platform, almost exactly as Combeferre
had left him, when the philosopher returned with his new companion.
He looked up hopefully as Ian approached.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t be back,” the blond young man said. He
looked so regretful, that Combeferre almost felt sorry for him.
“Of course I came back,” he answered matter-of-factly, climbing up onto
the platform. “Right now, the rally is more important than any ridiculous
argument between us. However, that doesn’t mean that we won’t have
a lot to discuss tonight.”
“Who’s that?” Enjolras glanced behind Ian, to the shadow of a girl lurking
there.
Combeferre stepped aside, leaving Grantaire completely exposed to Enjolras’s
scrutiny. “This is Grantaire. She wanted to come, and I didn’t see
why she shouldn’t.” He turned to the girl, who looked a little nervous.
“This is my friend, Marc Enjolras. Don’t be afraid; he won’t bite.”
He shot the other boy a look, adding, “Not too hard, at least.”
Grantaire forced a grin, shrugging. “I’m not afraid.” She looked Enjolras
up and down boldly. “You’re even cuter up close.”
The look Enjolras gave her, half-frightened, half-embarrassed, was enough
to make Combeferre laugh. “Are you a stalker?”
The girl laughed as well, a rough, coarse noise. “Nah, takes too much effort.
It’s just that I’ve seen you a coupla times before, and never really this
close.”
“Oh. Right.” Enjolras coughed. He turned his attention back
to Combeferre. “Are you ready for this?”
“I think everything’s in order,” the older boy answered. “All we can do
now is wait for three. Courfeyrac and the others should be here in
about…”—he glanced at his wristwatch—“…about ten or fifteen minutes.”
“Okay. Then we wait.” Enjolras laid back on the platform, stretching
his body out flat and clasping his hands behind his head. Grantaire
watched his movements keenly. Combeferre sat down beside his sprawled
friend, and he gave Grantaire an encouraging smile. The girl hesitated
for a moment, then settled herself on the other side of Enjolras, who pretended
not to notice the way she kept staring at him.
***************************
“You have the true power! Do you think the government can suppress
you however they like? We can’t allow them to overwhelm us!
The government is too extensive and too corrupt for any one person to change
the system, but if we work together, we can get something done!” Enjolras
was completely in his element, as he stood back and allowed the crowd a
moment to cheer and get their energy out. “Fight together, brothers, sisters!
If we’re to make this a better world for each other, and for our children,
then we must decrease the control of government. Decentralization!”
Combeferre watched proudly as his younger friend’s charisma furthered the
cause. They had been expecting quite a few people attending the rally
(as their rallies were known to be a rather good show), but even he hadn’t
expected so many students, teachers, and neighborhood residents to be there.
Of course, the riot police were there too, but Ian had come to expect that.
He looked back up at Enjolras, who seemed about to say something more,
when shouting near the back of the mob caught the crowd’s attention the
way a magnet draws in metal. Combeferre craned his neck to see, but
being on the ground with the rest of the masses, rather than up on the
platform, he imagined that Enjolras had a better view of it all than he
did. Enjolras himself jumped off the platform, landing beside Ian.
“The riots have started, Ian.”
“Yeah, that’s nice. Don’t wander off, Enjolras.” Too late; Combeferre
turned back around and his friend had disappeared again. “S***! Marc!
Where the hell’d he go?”
The rioting grew to a fever pitch, until the riot police finally dragged
out their hoses and broke up the mob. Several belligerent protestors
were hustled away into squad trucks to be dragged down to the nearest station.
Combeferre was one of the last ones left on the green, and he quickly caught
sight of Courfeyrac. Running over, he asked urgently, “Have you seen
Marc?”
“Enjolras? Nope, sorry. Last I saw of him, he was right in
the thick of things.”
“Great. F***.” Combeferre looked around, and his keen gray eyes located
the two NYU students. Joly and Laigle were perched on a nearby wall,
high above the chaos, their lips locked together passionately. Combeferre
didn’t hesitate in shouting up to them.
“Hey! Hate to break it up, but have you guys seen Enjolras?”
The two reluctantly disentangled themselves, and Laigle shrugged. “He could
be anywhere.” Joly, however, stopped for a moment and considered.
“I think the cops got him, ‘Ferre. I could have sworn I saw him being
tossed into one of those trucks. Sorry.”
“Argh!” Ian slapped his forehead with one hand in frustration. “Why does
he always do this to me?!” He began to stalk back off towards the street.
“Hey, where’re you goin’?” Laigle called after him.
“To go bail out the little wretch!” Combeferre yelled back without turning
back around.
“Good luck!” Joly offered, before Laigle reclaimed his lips.
************************
Journey
on...
Go
back to the Frat House...