Cold In My Professions
"What's your name?"
"Alexander Hamilton, sir." Alex bit his tongue to keep the flood of his ambitions (and the almost-inevitable surge of oversharing that was surely about to make its way out of his mouth) from unleashing itself within only ten minutes of his arrival at this new school.
"Very well. And you've moved a long way, I understand."
Alexander fidgeted slightly in his chair, looking at the man before him. The two sat on opposite sides of a desk marked with a wooden nameplate, a Mr. John Adams, and Alexander hardly saw the arrangement fit for a first meeting. It was a small room, but oddly decadent, with several windows overlooking a field. Hamilton was new to G. Kings Memorial High School. And hell, he was new to the whole country, the United States of America. And he kept finding the smallest things strange, like, for instance, why anyone— much less the kind of man who stored a jar of hard candies on a shelf by his desk, seemingly untouched for at least five years —would want not one, but three windows looking out over a simple grass field.
But perhaps Alex thought too much of the trivial, and too little of the practical. He had always had a flair for the dramatic, especially the dramatic in the everyday.
"Yes, sir. This summer, I took a flight from the Caribbean. I mean, my custody's always been a bit of a... topic. But everything kinda changed in July; a friend of a cousin called a couple dozen cousins or something and gained custody for me here in New York. And next thing you know, I'm enrolled here." Alex swallowed.
Adams took a drink from a large mug in front of him, clicking through some files on his bulky computer. A look of interest crossed his face. "Mr. Hamilton, you're scheduled for all advanced-placement courses all semester. Highest level classes. Are you certain—"
"Yes, sir. It's not a mistake, I've been working to be placed high enough and now that I'm here in New York and I've taken my placement tests, the results should have come back to you. All I remember is that the scheduling department placed me in all those classes based on my results, and I think that shouldn't be a problem. I always took high level classes before now, but here I guess if the system is different, I'm willing to be put up to the cha—"
"Very well. Your first class is English, Alexander." Adams glanced at the clock on the wall above the door. "You'd best be on your way. Do you know the route to—"
"Yes, sir. I'll be able to find it, I know the map well enough—"
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Hamilton." The principal smiled, standing slightly and motioning passively for Alex to leave his office. "Feel free to see me if you need any help adjusting."
Hamilton nodded, fixed his jacket, and slung his backpack on haphazardly. "Thank you, sir."
And he was off.
Alexander had never seen a classroom this big. Granted, he'd gone on a tour of the school with the incoming freshmen before the start of school (although short for his age, the new junior had not exactly fit in with this group) and seen these classrooms, but today, filled with eighteen other people, the room felt enormous. Alex's excitement swelled.
Scanning the room for a seat, Alex found only one readily available one. He took it.
Next to him sat a boy who had a serious but rather serene expression, writing something in a dark green notebook. He appeared calm, grounded.
Naturally, Alex stuck out his hand. "Alexander Hamilton, at your service."
The boy looked up, expression somewhat unreadable, but overall, not so unfriendly that Alex was inclined to draw back. Rather, Alex's new companion shook his hand politely, and said, "Aaron Burr. New? Exchange? Temporary?"
"Oh, I'm new. I moved over the summer, from the Caribbean. Aaron Burr. Your name sounds familiar."
"You might've passed some awards of mine in the hallway," Burr said meekly.
Alexander smiled, dropping his bag behind his chair. "That's probably it. You take a lot of honors courses? I always have. I'm signed up for four this semester."
"Yeah," Burr slid his green notebook into his bag, "I guess. My parents had always wanted me to."
"Had?" Alex took out three pens. (The supply list had called for one.)
"They passed a year and a half ago," Burr replied. It was a stiff sort of reply, but still not unfriendly.
"You're an orphan, too? God, I had no idea. I'm an orphan. So you've been proving yourself ever since? I've been trying since I got moved to my cousin's custody, but it's been a lot of schools and a couple years since then, and I guess I've been pretty successful so far." Alex grinned, his teeth showing. How lucky is this? Finding another orphan on his first day, and one with his drive and ambition at that. "Here we are, right?"
Burr gave Alex a curious smile. "Here we are."
And with that, the door closed, and the students' voices faded to whispers upon the arrival of this new visitor to the room. The teacher.
An awkward kind of man made his way to the front of the room, laying his coat on the back of his chair and standing in front of the cluster of desks filled with students. He held a stack of orange papers, and, passing them out to the class, began his introduction.
"My name is Mr. Samuel Seabury, and I am now in my seventh year teaching English for G. Kings Memorial High School..."
"Teaching," a voice scoffed from the back of the room. A trio of boys laughed.
"And I have here your course syllabus. For the semester we will be focusing on several" —Seabury fixed the button on his sweater before continuing to hand out copies of the syllabus— "quintessential writings in the English language, and we will be"— he read aloud off the paper in his hand— "reviewing the standard and widely-accepted interpretations of the listed literary works."
Alexander looked at the syllabus which had been placed in front of him.
Samuel Seabury, Eleventh Grade Honors English.
We will be reviewing the standard and widely-accepted interpretations of the listed literary works. Students will be tested on the ability to understand and support these interpretations as they are.
Alex glanced between the paper and the teacher. His hand shot up in the air.
Seabury ceased his speech, looking slightly confused at Alex's raised hand, but nevertheless, he called for Alex to ask whatever question had come to mind.
"Excuse me, Mr. Seabury, but, are we studying interpretations of works, and not the works themselves, in this course?"
Seabury looked mildly baffled. "Well, as you'll see, we'll be studying the pieces"— he searched his paper again— "through the lens of scholarly opinion—"
Alex raised an eyebrow. "We're studying interpretations of works. Do we get to interpret them ourselves, too?"
"Well— through the lens—"
"I just want to know if our opinions have any weight in this class or if it's a, a vessel, for the opinions of others."
"Going by, erm, scholarly opinion—"
"Seabury doesn't even know his own subject," a voice said somewhere in the room. Alex heard some stifled laughs.
Seabury looked flushed. "Do students' opinions matter in this study? I—"
"Well, if you'd like to argue a case with me on the matter..." Alexander looked at Seabury questioningly. A few hoots sounded in the back of the room, and one voice said "Hey, alright!" in approval of the situation.
Alex felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Excuse Alexander, sir. Please, continue." Burr said steadily, facing Seabury. After a moment he took his hand off Alex's shoulder again, returning to listening to Seabury's reading of the syllabus.
Alex turned to Burr, looking at him with his head tilted slightly. He leaned over to whisper. "Why'd you stop me?"
"What?"
"Why'd you stop me?"
"Oh." Burr cracked one knuckle. "Talk less, Hamilton. You don't want to start anything you can't take back." He shrugged.
"Hah."
Burr turned his attention back to Seabury.
However, Hamilton thought he saw a hint of irritation at the teacher in Burr's eyes. What a mystery this guy was.
It had taken all of Alexander's restraint not to "start something he couldn't take back" in his first class of the day, and the irritation built in him throughout the class until the bell signifying the end of the block rang. Alex gathered his belongings, and pushed in his chair.
"Hey, what's your name?"
Alex looked up, startled, to find someone looking right at him with a smile. This boy, slightly taller than Alex, grinned at him from across the desk.
"Alexander Hamilton," Alex replied, sticking out a hand. The other boy shook it.
"John Laurens." He smiled, in a way that made him seem sweet and reckless all at once. Alex smiled back. "You're new here, huh?"
"Yeah, I moved in this summer. New guardian. I used to live in the Caribbean, but..." Alex felt an unusual desire to trust this Laurens boy. "My father left us and then my mother died and it's just been a bit of a mess since this hurricane swept through, and, well, my town didn't make it, and I had to move here." He hadn't let go of John's hand. "There's so much I haven't done yet."
"I'm sorry about your parents... You've seen some stuff, huh? Man."
"I guess so. You could say that."
"You sure stuck it to Seabury today." John Laurens grinned again. "I thought I'd congratulate you, Alexander, hero of the year already."
Alex laughed. He liked hearing John say his name. It felt strangely sweet. "Thanks. It's just, the man is ridiculous."
"A joke."
"A mess."
"Completely."
"There's still a million things I haven't done here."
Laurens let go of Alex's hand and motioned for both of them to walk out the door. "I'm willing to wait."
Alexander smiled at John.
John Laurens sure had a lot of freckles.
The pair exited the classroom to find another duo standing and waiting for John.
"Tu es très tard, mon ami. We'll miss second class at this snail's rate." A boy with a thick French accent and a mass of curly hair pulled into a bun brushed some (seemingly invisible) dirt off his coat and stood up straight, greeting Laurens.
"Hey, 's this the kid who got Seabury speechless?" Another boy, this one with a rough voice and a knit hat on, walked alongside the Frenchman. He gestured toward Hamilton.
"Yeah, that's me. Alexander Hamilton."
"Marquis de Lafayette. Nouveau, non?" Lafayette, the Frenchman, grinned at Alex.
"Oui. Enchanté; from the Caribbean. I'm here to stay, I think."
"He speaks French too? Jesus," the boy with the knit hat smiled lopsidedly at Hamilton. "I'm Hercules Mulligan."
"You're all in Seabury's English class too? We should sit together. Tomorrow. If you'd be willing to accept me. I work hard, I really do, I'd make you proud." Alex glanced around the group, mostly at John.
"No sweat," Hercules said, then broke out in a smile. "Damn, this kid's got drive."
"Damn." Laf turned to Hercules. "We've got to get to... ehm..... physics"— He checked his schedule, then nodded— "oui, physics." He raised his eyebrows coolly at Alex, drawing his lips into a smile that managed to be both nonchalant and giddy at once. "Bon travail, aujourd'hui, Aléxandre."
Alex grinned.
"See y'all at lunch?" Herc started to make the right up the stairwell with Lafayette.
"Yeah, see you there!" Laurens waved to the pair.
"See you later!" Hamilton waved, too.
John grinned at him. "So you'll sit with us at lunch, Alex?"
"You want me to?" Alex had stopped in front of his honors math classroom; John stopped with him.
"I'd love it if you would." He smiled an encouraging little smile at Alex, his freckles arranged in the most wonderful way, and the way his eyes changed when he grinned... Hamilton was melting.
"I won't disappoint, then."
"It's a date," John held out his hand again, and Alex shook it, if more for the pleasure of holding John's hand again.
And was it just suspicion or solid evidence driving Hamilton to question whether or not this was John's intent, too? Whatever the matter, both parted ways shortly after, leaving Alex to ponder the matter in the two and a half hours before lunch.
"... And so he says, 'I can't let you do that, it breaks school codes,' or whatever, and I'm thinkin' like—" Laurens took a hasty bite of his apple, "'Of course it's against school codes, it's actually got brains behind it!' So— James, you need a tissue or something?"
James Madison shook his head with a mellow smile, recovering from his sneeze. "No, go on. Wait. Thomas is here. I'll see y'all later, okay?"
"Till we meet again," Lafayette said, repositioning his elbows on the table.
"Man. First day, and I mean, everyone got older over the summer. You know? Look around, it's like a whole new group..." Herc aggressively took a swig of his apple juice, an interesting sight to behold.
And, as he'd suggested, Laurens did look around, but his attention was focused on the doors. Where was Alexander Hamilton?
"John, mon cher, you never finished telling us what happened."
John grinned at Lafayette. "Okay. So, I'm saying, what school codes? Since when do school codes mean shit—"
"OOOH!!!" Herc grinned.
"And since when— Alexander!"
John dropped his arm, grinning over at the new addition. Alex was walking with a determined set into the cafeteria, and something about the set of his jaw caught John's attention. Something about the way Alex was caught John's attention.
Stop it, John Laurens... Here he went again. He's probably straight. And this'll happen again, like always...
He waved Alex over, still smiling. "Wasn't sure you'd make it!"
"Me?" Alex grinned incredulously, taking a seat beside John. He pulled his chair in, leaning towards the group. John's insides fluttered. It was terrible and wonderful, how suddenly Alex had stolen John's interests, attention, and free thought. Stolen. Ha. "Of course. What kind of sucker would I be to pass up the opportunity to spend a lunch period with you three? I got caught up in the hallway, some idiot Charles Lee wouldn't let me pass without a full interrogation, I guess. I dunno. But I'm here," Alex smiled breathlessly at the group. He pulled out a granola bar from his backpack (an old pack with straps that was somehow already filled with papers) and took a bite.
"We are glad, mon ami," Laf smiled at Alex. "I believe we have a civics course together, all of us?"
"Right!" Alexander finished his granola bar in one more bite and his eyes lit up. They scanned the group. Was it just in John's head that they lingered slightly longer on him than the others in all their glory (God, Alexander's eyes were the most beautiful thing. John could practically feel the infatuation bubbling in him, and he felt just so wonderfully gay. Damn you, Alex.) "Civics with Washington. Didn't he use to be the principal? I read that he stepped down from his position, and now Adams has it. But he still teaches. I'll bet it's a good class. I made sure to sign up for it, and now that you're all in there—"
"You'd better sit with us," John grinned, looking teasingly at Alex. "You're new. We'll need to protect your ass."
Herc made his signature "rah" noise, his face splitting into a purely-Hercules-style grin. "Sounds like Charles Lee already got it."
Laf scoffed. "Lee? He is a joke! There are others." He assumed a suspiciously serious expression.
"Who?" John turned to Lafayette, who leaned forwards and looked as though he were about to laugh, but restrained himself. "Peggy Schuyler," he whispered, feigning terror.
"Who?" John looked at Alex, and the look of confusion and apprehension on his face was enough to break both his and Lafayette's acts.
God, Laurens, sit your gay ass down and stop hoping.
"The most harmless third wheel ever, Alex." John laughed. "Lovable, though. You'll meet the Schuylers soon."
"Speaking of third wheels..." Lafayette turned his attention to someone else arriving at the table, but someone who neglected to sit down. The new arrival visibly deflated at the sudden attention granted to him by the energetic bunch.
"Well, if it ain't the prodigy of our age!"
"Aaron Burr!"
"Gahh, take a seat, Burr!"
Burr looked almost uncomfortable, but a bored indifference laced his features. "Actually, I'm here for Hamilton. I see you've made friends, though." He smiled, and it wasn't as cold a smile as would be expected, although it was lacking easily-definable emotion. My services can wait."
"Always waiting, Burr, prenez une chance quelquefois!"
"I'll see you later, Hamilton."
"Yeah, no problem, Aaron." Alexander flashed Burr a smile before the latter left without another word. Alex turned to his companions. "Why's he a third wheel?"
"He's probably off to go keep tabs on Thomas and James," Herc replied, leaning back and using Laf's lap as an ottoman.
"Jefferson et Madison. Inseparable, truly. They need some... 'ow you s– getting used to, but they are decent."
"And Burr's the latest addition to their posse," Hercules concluded.
"He's not unlikeable. Just easy to poke fun at," John said.
"Like you, eh, mon cher? Someone spends too much time in the sun, non?" Lafayette grinned toothily at Laurens, packing up his bag.
"I'm from South Carolina, Laf," John laughed again, raising Hercules' finished juice box in the air in a makeshift toast. "I grew up in the sun, of course I've got freckles."
Alexander looked at John with a smile. "I like your freckles a lot!"— John suddenly flushed red, grinning with spontaneous joy as Alex continued— "I didn't know you were from the south. I mean, if you're from South Carolina... Laf's from France... Where are you from, Herc?"
"Ireland! Kiss my ass," Herc said with a laugh.
Alexander's eyes lit up again with that twinkle of realization that something big was going on— and that he was part of it. "Can you believe that we all met?"
John looked at Alex curiously. The group considered it briefly. Alex continued, "I mean, what are the odds we'd all be in this one spot? Look, I don't know y'all so well yet, but I think there's something great about this whole thing. Something so fucking great." Alex was standing up at this point.
There was a pause, buzzing with excitement, among the group.
John Laurens moved to stand with Alex, and for a moment, the two stood, eye to eye, matching each others grins.
"Let's get this guy in front of a crowd!" Laurens chimed.
Whether this was to the group at large, the boy in front of him, the world, or simply to himself remained a mystery even to the speaker.
Suddenly, a ringing sound pealed throughout the cafeteria, and the group turned to the clock.
"That's third period, y'all," Hercules said, grabbing his bag and pushing in his chair with a thud.
John still stood face to face with Alex, who had made no move to leave the room, his expression still giddy with excitement. "We'll catch up in a second, Herc, Laf."
"À bientôt," Lafayette winked at the pair and let Hercules drag him out of the cafeteria into the overcrowded hallway, along with the stream of students exiting the cafeteria.
Alexander's grin widened. "I do love your freckles. No joke."
John's heart swelled. Could it be...? "Geez! Thanks. I do love your eyes." He tilted his head. "No joke."
"Wait a second," Alex reached down and muddled through his bag, unearthing the syllabus from Seabury's class.
John regarded it with distaste. "What d'you want with that? It's awful."
"Shh. I'm gonna make it better." The smile on the edge of Alex's voice was enthralling to John. He began to write something in neat, scrawling handwriting on the margin of the page, and ripped off the part he'd now covered with writing. Handing it to John, he grinned. "Call me, or text me, or something. I was gonna give this to all three of you, but I wanted you to get me first."
John blushed in spite of himself. It sure seemed like he wasn't just getting his hopes up. "Thank you, Alex... Uhm," he moved to take the pencil, and, after scribbling out his own phone number and contact information, doodled a messy little turtle above his own name. John Laurens.
With that, he handed the syllabus back to Alex, who grinned, "I guess this paper isn't so worthless anymore, huh?"
John laughed, sliding the slip Alex had given him into his pocket. Carefully. And all-too-happily. "I guess not."
Alexander looked at the clock. "Oh, shit. We gotta go." He turned back to John, seemed to consider something for less than a second, and, without so much as a slight warning, pulled John into a hug.
John's heart stopped. Alex's beat faster.
The bell rang again, a warning one.
Alex let go.
John smiled.
"I'll see you later, Alexander."
Alex moved to start running out of the cafeteria to the opposite side of the school. Over his shoulder, he called, "Don't forget to text me or call me or whatever!"
And John watched him go, waving after him. He reached for the paper slip in his pocket, cheeks starting to hurt from grinning for so long. It was a strangely satisfying burn.
I could get used to that feeling.