A Promise

Chapter Twenty-Eight

        "Eponine, calm down," Marius ordered me under his breath. "You don't want to blow your cover."

        My hands were clenched in fists of rage and my eye was twitching in anger. "He-gave-him-a-gun," I hissed. "He's just a little boy! He shouldn't be allowed to be at the barricade, much less to hold a gun. What was Enjolras thinking?!"

        "Calm down," Marius said again. "I'll go talk to him."

        "You'd better," I said through a clenched jaw. "Because if you don't I will march up there myself and slap him across the face, and I don't care if my cover is blown!"

        "Okay feisty-pants, let's not be too hasty," Marius said. "Let me go talk to him first."

        I watched, my blood still boiling, while Marius walked up to Enjolras and began to engage him in conversation.

        "Hey, Enjolras?" I heard Marius said. "Don't you think that was a little bit... unwise?"

        "What was unwise?" Enjolras asked.

        "Giving a ten-year-old child a gun," Marius clarified.

        Enjolras gave him a blank stare. "What- oh!" he exclaimed. Then, to my surprise, he started laughing.

        "What could possibly be so funny?" Marius inquired.

        "I didn't give him a working gun!" Enjolras said, still chuckling. "The trigger on the one I gave him is broken. It won't fire."

        Oh, I thought, feeling rather foolish for believing that Enjolras would actually give Gavroche a real gun. Still, I was upset that he had allowed Gavroche here at all, although I was nowhere near as angry as I had been before. Marius seemed to read my mind, for he nodded, then asked, "But why would you let the boy here in the first place? It's very dangerous."

        Enjolras considered the question very seriously. Finally, he responded. "There comes a point in every boy's life when he wanders into the territory between boyhood and manhood. It is important for him to learn the values of courage and sacrifice. I won't let him get hurt, and I trust Courfeyrac to keep him safe, but it is time for Gavroche to begin to learn the virtues of a man. What better way for him to learn than in a fight against injustice?"

        I watched as Marius thought about what Enjolras had said and then slowly nodded. "That makes sense," he said. I, on the other hand, still had my doubts, but I also knew that Gavroche was a Thenardier, and that meant he was as stubborn as a mule. Even if Enjolras had told him not to fight, he would have refused to listen.

        Suddenly, Joly's voice made me jump. "He's back!" Joly yelled. I looked up to see Javert climbing up the barricade, and I immediately clenched my fists. I glanced at Gavroche, hoping he would recognize him, but Gavroche was busy admiring his new gun. Before I could decide whether or not to simultaneously blow both my cover and Javert's, the Inspector began to speak.

        "I have overheard their plans!" he announced loudly. "There will be no attack tonight. They intend to starve us out before they start a proper fight. Concentrate their force. Hit us from the right."

        I looked over at Gavroche again, whose brow was furrowed as he looked at Javert. Finally, something clicked in the little boy's eyes, and he stood up, pointing accusingly at Javert.

        "Liar!" he yelled. Everyone turned to Gavroche, murmuring in confusion. "Good evening dear inspector, lovely evening my dear. I know this man, my friends, his name's Inspector Javert." Everyone gasped and Bahorel immediately grabbed Javert and began tying him up to a chair. "So don't believe a word he says, cause none of it's true. This only goes to show what little people can do. And little people know when little people fight, we may look easy pickings but we've got some bite. So never kick a dog because he's just a pup. We'll fight like twenty armies and we won't give up! So you better run for cover when the pup grows up!"

        Gavroche strolled over to Javert, pointing his little gun at the Inspector's head. Javert's eyes widened as the gun touched his forehead. Gavroche tried to pull the trigger, but of course the gun did not work. He frowned and tried again. It still did not work.

        "Hey!" he said after giving the gun a careful inspection. "The trigger on this is broken."

        "Sorry, Gavroche," Enjolras said, ruffling his hair. "Your sister would kill me if I gave you a working gun."

        "You're darn right I would," I muttered under my breath.

       Gavroche pouted, but Courfeyrac made up for his disappointment by patting him on the head and telling him that he had single-handedly saved the revolution. Gavroche puffed out his chest proudly and held his head high. I smiled quietly to myself. Despite the fact that I was still reluctant to let Gavroche endanger himself at the barricade, I was proud of my little brother.

        Suddenly, a loud explosion brought us all back to reality. The loud bangs of guns being fired caused us to jump.

        "The National Guard is back!" Joly yelled from his look-out position near the top of the barricade. He began to hurry back down the barricade to safety. Then, another loud explosion filled the air.

        It seemed to happen is slow motion. Joly's body convulsed, and blood began to seep from his chest. Slowly, he tumbled down the barricade, his body limp. Before I could do anything, Bossuet rushed forward and caught his best friend in his arms.

        "No, Joly," Bossuet moaned, tears pouring from his eyes. "Don't die."

        Joly's face was pale. Sweat beaded his forehead. "My friend," he said, clutching Bossuet's hand. "T-tell Musichetta... I love her."

        Bossuet shook his head. "No, don't say that," he cried. "Don't say your good-byes. You will live, Joly. You're going to be a Papa. You have to live for your baby. You... you're going to be a Papa, Joly."

        Joly shook his head weakly. "No," he said quietly. "You're going to be a Papa, Bossuet."

        "What do you mean?" Bossuet asked.

        "I want you t-to... take care of Musichetta... and the baby..." Joly requested, his breathing labored.

        "Joly, please don't say that. You're going to live. You have to live."

        "Promise me, Bossuet," Joly begged.

        "I- I promise," Bossuet replied.

        Joly smiled and took his last breath.

        I watched the scene in horror. "Oh God," I whispered. "What am I going to tell Musichetta?"