“Oof,” I grunted as I trudged up the stairs with an extremely heavy backpack.  “I hate backpacks… I hate homework… I hate school…”  Finally reaching my door, I yanked it open and collapsed on the bed.

“Mademoiselle, what are you doing at our barricade?” asked a voice sternly.

I looked up, and my backpack slid to the floor, landing with a loud “thunk.”  My bedroom had somehow grown much bigger, there was a giant pile of stuffed animals, books, pillows, etc. in the space between my bed and the wall, and quite a few young men in odd-looking clothes were climbing on top of the pile.  Along with a smaller amount of young women.  “Oy.  I feel like I’m in one of those weird Les Mis fics…”

“Excuse me?” asked the man who had spoken.

“Uh, never mind… what’s your name?”  I braced myself for a name straight out of Victor Hugo.

“You may call me Combeferre.  Now will you tell me what you’re doing here?”

I was right.  I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.  “This is my room,” I said.  “It’s not the Rue de la Chanverie or wherever you think you are.  You might have noticed all the stuffed animals.”

“Oh, this is your room?  I’m sorry, Mademoiselle, but this is where the National Guard will be attacking.  At least, that’s what Enjolras says.”  Combeferre shrugged.

“I see… can I talk to him?”

“Of course.  I’ll need to know your name first, though.”

“I’m Lillie,” I said.  A sudden movement caught my eye.  “Hey, put that bear down!” I called, scrambling up the “barricade” to catch my favorite teddy bear.  “Do what you like with the others, but I want this one alive and unharmed!”  Realizing that I had just unknowingly quoted the Wicked Witch of the West, I started laughing hysterically, and ran smack into another one of the men.  “Oops.  Sorry,” I said.  Noticing that I was eye-level with a red vest, I looked up.  My face burned.  Enjolras had never really been my favorite character, but it was still quite embarrassing to meet him with a teddy bear in my arms.

“That’s quite all right,” the revolutionary said almost kindly. 

I was surprised.  Enjolras?  Being nice?  To a girl?  Well, maybe he thought I was too young to pose a threat to him.  “Thanks.  Um… would you mind telling me why you’re here?  You see, this is my bedroom…”

Enjolras nodded briefly.  “So you’re the one.  I’m sorry to intrude like this, but the enemy will be attacking in just a few hours.”

“Would you mind telling me what enemy?”

“All we know is that a great enemy to all decent people of the world will attack this very place.”

Probably my brother.  “Okay.  Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You should leave,” said Enjolras, frowning at me.  “It isn’t safe for little girls here.”

Little girls?  Did he just call me a little girl!?  “Hey, Monsieur Enjolras, I might be short, but I’m not a little girl!  I’m sixteen!”

Enjolras raised one of his golden eyebrows.  “You look ten.”

“Yeah, well, you’re twenty-two and look seventeen!  I’m not ten!”  I looked for my backpack to show him my high school level books, but they had already gone into what I was beginning to think of as the “bearricade.”  “See that book that Combferre is throwing to” – I studied the man on the receiving end, who looked oddly like Jérôme Pradon, and made and educated guess – “Courfeyrac?  That’s an Honors IV French book!”  I giggled inwardly, remembering that there was a section in that book that had a synopsis of Les Misérables that didn’t even mention the Friends of the ABC.

“I’m sure it is,” replied Enjolras – who I was growing to dislike, and who probably had no idea what I meant.  “But the fact remains that it this is not a safe place for children.  Run along, now.”

I ran along, but fumed.  I knew I looked like a ten-year-old, and I hated it!  I also hated being kicked out of my own room.  Darn revolutionaries.

So I decided to call Sharie.  She was a few inches taller than me, liked Les Mis, and was never at a loss for words.  I bet that if that “great enemy” really did attack, she could talk them down.  I dialed her number.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Sharie?  It’s Lillie.  Would you mind coming over for a while?”

“Oh, hi Lillie!  Sure I’ll come over, why?  Is something wrong?  Or what?”

Somehow I didn’t think Sharie would believe me if I told her what was going on.  “I, um, got some new Les Mis stuff that I wanna show you.”

“Oh, cool!  I’ll be there in a few minutes.  I can’t wait to see what it is!  Bye!”  There was a click as Sharie hung up.

Great.  As soon as Sharie got here, we’d attack the “bearricade.”  Well, not really attack, but that sounds better than “we’d go back in and politely ask the tall blond guy in the red vest to leave.”

There was one thing that was bothering me, however.  I’d met Enjolras and Combeferre.  I’d seen – or thought I’d seen – Courfeyrac.  Among the other men I’d glimpsed a bald one who was probably Bossuet, and one holding a handkerchief to his nose who had to be Joly, and there were others who I could guess were the rest of les Amis de l’ABC.  In fact, there was only one Ami who was missing…

A rough voice floated up the stairs.  “Hey!  I can’t find the wine!”

Grantaire.  I hurried downstairs to make sure he wasn’t completely tearing the house apart.  “We don’t have any,” I said to the man who was desperately searching through the kitchen cabinets.  “Well, not unless you like Manechevitz,” I added as Grantaire took his head out of a cabinet and looked at me with sad puppy eyes.

“If has alcohol, I’ll drink it!”

“Even if it’s sickly sweet?” I asked doubtfully.

“Yes!  Now give it to me!  I mean it!”

“Fine then.”  I went to the living room and got out one of the bottles of Manechevitz that my family uses for Shabbat and other holidays that require wine.  “What’s the magic word?” I asked.

“WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!” said Grantaire, grabbing the bottle and hugging it to his chest.  “Oh my darling, I promise never to be without you again!”

It was at that moment that Sharie decided to show up.  “Hey Lillie!  Where’s that new Les Mis stuff you wanted to show me?”

Wordlessly, I pointed to Grantaire, who was engrossed in trying to figure out how to open the bottle.

Sharie wrinkled her nose.  “Who’s that?”

“His name’s Grantaire.”

“Sure it is,” said Sharie skeptically.  “Is he your cousin or something?  After all, you do have some pretty weird relatives…”

“Nope, not my cousin.  Come on upstairs, and I’ll explain.”  With an odd expression on her face, Sharie followed me to the door of my room.  “I’m ba-ack!” I announced cheerfully.

Enjolras, who was standing on top of the giant pile of bears, pillows, books, and other assorted stuff, stopped waving his red flag and looked at Sharie and me in annoyance.  “Why did you come back?  I told you, this isn’t safe for children!”

I shoved Sharie forward.  “Look!  She’s my age!  And taller than me!  Now do you believe me that I’m not just a little girl?”

“Fine!  I believe you!  Now go and knit or something and let us fight!”

“Sharie,” I whispered, “you talk to them.”

“Who are they?” she whispered back.

“Enjolras and the rest of the Friends of the ABC.  I don’t know much else about them.”

“So you weren’t kidding when you said that guy downstairs was Grantaire, huh?  Wow!  This is so amazing!  I mean, real live Les Mis characters?”

“Just talk to them!”

“Okay, okay!”  Sharie raised her voice.  “Hey guys!”  As one, all the men – well, besides Enjolras – looked at her.  “I, uh, just wanted to say… um…”  I could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to think of something to say.  “You… uh… I… great hair!”

“Why thank you, mademoiselle!” said the man I thought was Courfeyrac.  “And what might you be doing later on tonight?”  Definitely Courfeyrac.

“Lillie, you read the book… is he supposed to be acting like this?” Sharie whispered.

“Yep.  Play along, or something.”

“Nothing much!” said Sharie brightly.  “I was planning on just watching TV, or maybe watching the TAC…”  She trailed off.  “You guys have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

Courfeyrac grinned and shook his head.

“Oooookay,” said Sharie under her breath.  “This isn’t getting anywhere, Lillie.  Have any ideas on what to do?”

“We could always call Caroline,” I said.  “The only problem is – well, have you noticed who Courfeyrac looks like?”  Sharie gave me a blank stare.  “Think Jesus Christ Superstar…”

“Oh, right!  Of course!  That guy she’s always drooling over!  Jerry-something!  Didn’t he play Courfeyrac at the Tenth Anniversary Concert?”

“Jérôme Pradon,” I corrected her.  “Yeah.  And Marius in the PRC.  And Caro’s obsessive over him.  Somehow I doubt it would be very good for Courfeyrac’s ego if we called her…”

“What the heck,” said Sharie.  “We need all the help we can get!”

“Good point.  C’mon!”  I dragged Sharie to the phone, and dialed Caroline’s number.

“Hello?”

“Hey Caro!  It’s Lillie.”

“Oh, hi Lillie!  Listen, could you call me back?  I’m in the middle of watching Jesus Christ Superstar, and there’s a really great Jérôme moment coming up…”

“Is the movie almost over?”

“Not really… he hasn’t started singing yet.”

“Well, could you watch it some other time?  Cause I just got this great new Jérôme/Les Mis thing…”  I smiled to myself as I heard Caroline slam down the phone.  I turned to Sharie.  “She’s coming!”

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang repeatedly, suggesting desperation.  I went to answer the door, and, as I suspected, there was Caroline.  “Where is it, where is it?” she squealed, pushing past me into the house.

“In my room!” I called, and she disappeared up the stairs.  Sharie and I followed, and nearly bumped into her as she stood gawking in the doorway of my room. 

“Uh- wha- euh?” she stammered.

“Caroline, meet Les Amis de L’ABC,” I said.

She laughed, then suddenly stopped and stared at me.  “You’re… joking, right?”

“You think twenty random men usually show up in Lillie’s bedroom?” asked Sharie.

“Oh my gosh!” said Caroline, catching sight of Courfeyrac.  “This is them, isn’t it!?”

“Yep,” said Sharie and I in unison.

“AND THAT’S JÉRÔME PRADON!!!!!”

“Actually, that’s Courfeyrac,” I corrected her.

“I don’t care!”

“Oy,” I muttered as Enjolras walked towards us.

Caroline nudged me.  “Lillie, I only skimmed the Ami introductions in the book – who’s this guy?”

“Enjolras,” I said.

“Oh, right!  Blond hair, red vest … I should’ve guessed!”

“I thought I told you this wasn’t safe!” said Enjolras sternly.  He noticed Caroline, and groaned.  “And you’ve brought someone else!  We’ll have to take you out of here by force.  Bahorel!”  Bahorel trotted over to us.  “Remove them.”

Bahorel nodded and started to push us out of the room, when suddenly Caroline jumped into a Tae-Kwon Do fighting position.  “Hey, two can play that game!” she said.

“Oh, come on, you’re a girl, what are you going to do?” asked Bahorel good-naturedly.

Caroline dropped to the floor, rolled past him, and immediately jumped back into position.  “You really want to know the answer to that question?”

“Whoa,” Sharie said.  She turned to me.  “Did you know she could do that?”

I closed my gaping mouth and shook my head.  “Nope.”

“Well, it appears you can take care of yourselves,” said Enjolras.

“Darn tootin’,” said Caroline, relaxing. 

Enjolras silenced her with a glare.  “So you can stay,” he finished.  “But don’t get us into trouble!”

Just then, Courfeyrac approached.  “What’s all the commotion?” he asked, grinning at Caroline.

She promptly fainted.

“Was it something I said?” asked the perplexed revolutionary.

“No,” I assured him.  “Caro’s just obsessed with this guy who looks just like you.”

“How interesting,” commented Courfeyrac.

“That accent!” squealed Caroline, who had regained consciousness.  She then fainted again.

When she opened her eyes, Courfeyrac helped her to stand.  “I’m sorry if I frightened you,” he said.

“Oh, you didn’t!  It’s just that- I mean- I’m talking to Jérôme Pradon!”

“Who?”

“This is Courfeyrac, Caroline, not Jérôme,” I reminded her.

“Oh, sorry.  I won’t make that mistake again, Jérôme – I mean, Courfeyrac.”

Courfeyrac smiled.  “Of course you won’t.” 

As Courfeyrac walked away, Caroline turned to me and mouthed, “He’s so cute!”  Suddenly she bent over and picked up a piece of paper she had fainted on top of.  “They’ve really been making a mess!”

I recognized my brother’s handwriting on the paper as she balled it up and aimed it towards the trashcan.  “Wait!”  I said.  “Let me see that.”

Caroline shrugged and handed it to me.  Opening the paper, I saw it was my brother’s kindergarten-esque handwriting – by the way, he was in eighth grade.  “ ‘The revalooshun gys form Lay Mizz apeer in Lillies room and start bilding a baraccade with her stuf,’ ” I read.

“What’s that?”  Sharie asked, coming over.

“I don’t know,” I said, examining the paper for any clues.  “Jake wrote it.”

“This is a new ploy for him, isn’t it?”  Caroline asked.  “ ‘Let’s bring down Lillie by writing stuff down on paper.’ ”

“Weird, though,” I said, looking up at the revolutionaries, who were adding onto the wall of my stuff.  “What he wrote is happening now.”

“Very weird,” Sharie said, nodding.

Caroline bit her lip like she was thinking.  “Hmmm,” she said.  Suddenly, she gasped.  “I’ve got an idea.  Lillie, you’ve got any paper around?”

“In my desk,” I said, and we all hurried to it.  “I think I know where you’re going, Caro.”  We got to my desk and I looked in the paper’s usual place, but didn’t find any.  “Where’d it all go?”  I asked.

Without speaking, Sharie pointed across the room to where Prouvaire was sitting with the long lost paper and a pen writing something.

“Figures,” Caroline said.

“Well, let’s use the computer,” I said, sitting down at the desk.  “Thank goodness they haven’t got a hold of it yet!”

In seconds, I opened memo pad.  “What should I type?”  I asked.

“Uh, how about, ‘one of the revolutionaries goes over to see what that paper-stealer guy is writing?”  Sharie suggested.

As soon as I finished typing the sentence, Courfeyrac went over to Prouvaire and started poking him and asking, “Watcha writin’?  Watcha writin’?”

Prouvaire looked up, annoyed, and said, “If you must know, it’s a love poem.”

“It worked!”  I squealed.  “Quick!  Tell me what else to write!”

“Here, give me the keyboard!”  Caroline said, and she hid the screen as she typed.

Nothing spectacular happened to any of the Amis.

“What did you write?”  Sharie asked curiously.

Caroline grinned sheepishly and revealed the screen: COURFEYRAC FALLS MADLY IN LOVE WITH CAROLINE.

“You are so pathetic,” Sharie said, shaking her head.

Caroline just giggled as I took back the keyboard.  I typed, COURFEYRAC INSULTS PROUVAIRE.

“I don’t need love poems,” Courfeyrac said, waving a hand carelessly.  “Women can’t resist my charm—I can tell a girl off the cuff what I feel for them!”

“Lemme try something else,” I said, getting an idea.  A few seconds later, JAKE PULLS SHARIE’S HAIR was on the screen.

“Hey!  Why are you picking on me!?” asked Sharie.

“Because it’s not going to work, silly!” I said.  “I was right.  It only works if we all want it to happen.”

Caroline nodded.  “That makes sense!  So now what do we do?”

With a giggle, I typed, ENJOLRAS HUGS LILLIE’S TEDDY BEAR AND SUCKS HIS THUMB.  Caroline and Sharie exploded with laughter as Enjolras did just that – and I snapped a photograph.

“My turn, my turn!” said Sharie, pushing me out of the way.  COMBEFERRE ACTS LIKE MY DOG, she typed. 

Immediately, Combeferre started running around on all fours, chasing his coat tails.  “Combeferre!  Sit!  Stay!” said Courfeyrac.  “Gooood Comby,” he said when the “dog” did as he asked.  He then proceeded to rub Combeferre’s head, thoroughly messing up his hair.

Caroline grabbed the keyboard.  JOLY HAS A SNEEZING FIT AND BOSSUET STANDS ON HIS HEAD AND STARTS RECITING PROUVAIRE’S LOVE POEM.

They did.

“Okay,” I said, after catching my breath after a fit of laughter, “we should really send them home or something.  So…” I started typing THE AMIS GO-

“Wait!” Caroline shouted.  “I want to hear Jér- Courfeyrac sing!”

I sighed.  “Just because he looks like Jérôme doesn’t mean he sounds like him,” I said.

“Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?”

“Just do it,” said Sharie.  “This might be funny!”

With a shrug, I wrote, COURFEYRAC SERENADES CAROLINE WITH ‘EMPTY CHAIRS AT EMPTY TABLES.’

“There’s a grEEEEEEEEEEEEEif that cAAAAAAAAAAAaan’t be spOOokEEEen,” sang Courfeyrac, walking over to us.  “There’s a pAAAAAAAAAAAaain gOOOOOOOooes Ooooon-”

“ENOUGH!” yelled Sharie, Caroline, and I, covering our ears.  Quickly, I typed, COURFEYRAC STOPS!!!!!

He did, cleared his throat, looked confused for a moment, then flashed us a smile and walked away.

“Toldja,” I said.

Caroline sighed wistfully, “It just wasn’t meant to be!”

“Now can we send ‘em home?” I asked.

“Sure,” chorused Sharie and Caroline.

“Good.”  THE AMIS GO HOME AND MY ROOM RETURNS TO NORMAL.

“Are you sure this is working?” asked Caroline as the Amis disappeared.  “Your room still looks… well…”

“It always looks like that,” I assured her.  “So, what should we do to get back at Jake?”

“I know!” said Caroline.  “Burn him a CD of Courfeyrac singing!”

The three of us chuckled evilly as I began to type…