Les Amis - Welcome to the Future

Les Miserables Fanfiction : By J'Aimie Michelle Graham 2K

Disclaimer: It's very obvious by my writing that I do not own any of the characters from Les Miserables. Monsieur Victor Hugo (May he live a very happy... afterlife, yes) is the glorious creator of those charming men we call Les Amis. All other characters are probably right outta Jai's real life, and... she loves you all to pieces. No one can yell, legally, this is all that has to be said! Merci!

Warning: Sure, everything has one now-a-days. Anywho, there's nothing raunchy in this fiction, just Jai's odd mind getting the better of her yet again. It's like, really obvious which of Les Amis Jai absolutely loves, because... stuff happens. Enjoy the fics, and don't send flames. They burn. =^.^=


~ The Graham Residence. Approximately 5:15 p.m., February 3rd, 2006~

"Jai! You're home so late… How was school today?" my mother asked, meeting me in the front hall of our house. I took off my gloves, handed her the mail, and kicked off my black Sketchers, which were covered in snow.

"Lemme see," I started, "Have I mentioned that I mentioned that Latin has to be the most boring language in the universe?"

"Another test, I assume. Well, how did you do this time?" my mother sighed, extending her hand, wishing to see the C+ that I had managed to get on a Latin Test. I pulled the crumpled paper out from my purse, and shoved it toward her. Expecting a lecture, I grabbed my backpack, and tore up the stairs to my room. It may have been the move that saved my butt for the day.


~ The Café Musain, Approximately 5:15 p.m. February 3rd, 1832 ~

The members of Les Amis [The Friends] sat around two tables, waiting for their bold and fearless leader to enter. For once, he was the late member. Perhaps the blizzard that covered Paris in a blanket of white was the reason for his tardiness…

"How the hell does he expect to lead a revolution if he can't even make it to the meetings on time? What kind of leader is that? I can see it now, 'Pardon me Monsieur National Guardsman, I'm terribly sorry for the delay. I had to get my hair to look perfect to lead this insurrection! Now you can attack the barricade!'" a rather drunk Grantaire slurred a bit too loudly. The rest of the group had learned to ignore him, as Grantaire was typically drunk.

"Shut up, Grand R," Combeferre told him. "I'm sure Enjolras has a valid reason for being late. Besides, sometimes it's nice to come to the café just to be with friends… All he's seemed to talk about lately is this Revolution! I know, it's our main goal, but a break once in awhile wouldn't kill us…"

"I agree! If only we could get away from all of this Revolutionary Planning for just a little while!" Feuilly said, putting his hand of cards down on the table. "I win." He told Courfeyrac, who was sitting across the table from him.

"Maybe one day, we should all just forget about these meetings, and skip 'em! Enjolras would kill us, indeed, but we'd get out of some of this planning…" Courfeyrac said, also putting his hand of cards down on the table. "No, mon ami…" he told Feuilly, "I won."

Feuilly grumbled something under his breath, and handed Courfeyrac five francs.

~Back at the Graham Residence~

"How do you ever expect to get into a good Collage with these grades, Jaimie?" my mother demanded, still waving the C+ Latin test around.

"Collage? Lemme finish one school at a time here! It's not my fault that my teacher hates me! I would have gotten a better grade if she had given me the notes I missed!" I hissed back. I was mad… really mad. "Whatever. Look, I'm sorry for the bad grade. Don't make me miss the Winter Ball this weekend, please! I'll re-take the test, I promise!"

"I'll think about it… but right now, go finish the rest of your homework. I don't want to ever see this kind of test grade ever enter the house… again!" she warned, and motioned for me to leave. I sighed, and stomped up the stairs with the test still in my hands. I walked into my room, and slammed the door for effect. I was a Drama-Queen, and would do anything for attention. My friends said that I gained attention easily - whether it be by sarcasm, or just by being my usual dramatic self.

I needed an escape from reality. I knew well that I should have been doing my algebra homework, or my essay on Fungi, but I decided that a trip onto the world-wide-web would be much more fitting. I powered up my laptop, and watched my Anime-ish start-up screen pop up. Yes, another obsession: I loved Japanese Animation. Along with my little obsession with Broadway and Theater, the art of Anime fit in nicely… I was the artist of the family - anyone would agree…

~Back at the Musain~

Enjolras still hadn't arrived. Most of the students didn't expect him to come that night - the blizzard still raged on. They certainly weren't going anywhere either. They were snowed in, and Enjolras was snowed out.

"Just wonderful!" Bahorel muttered, looking out the window. "It looks as if we're snowed in, my friends. Enjolras has no shot at making it tonight, and we've got no prayer of making it out. Get comfortable…" he added with a sigh.

"What?!" cried the rest of the students, not quite convinced that they would be spending the night in the backroom of the Café.

"Hey, if Grantaire can do it every night…" Joly said with a grin, "Why can't we?"

Grantaire actually heard that, and being in his state of drunkenness, didn't quite understand that it was an insult. "Itsh not so bad, boysh…" he slurred. He was a bit past drunk at that point. Feuilly groaned.

"What I wouldn't do to be someplace other than Paris right now…" he muttered. The others agreed, and before they knew it, they were no longer sitting around the tables of the Musain… they were no longer in the Nineteenth Century for that matter…

[To the Backroom] [Go on to Part II]