Ignorance and Resistance
"No."
"No?" Hamilton was shaking. This was visible even from twenty feet away; John could see him jittering like a time bomb about to explode.
This was in contention for the title of angriest council meeting yet, and with Washington absent and a shell-shocked-looking Samuel Seabury supervising, tumultuous results were guaranteed.
"Is that what you said to me?" Alexander repeated, fists clenched so hard his knuckles were paling by the second. "Because I said 'no' too, once, and what could that've been for?" He pretended to think, mockingly looking to the ceiling as his face twisted into a parody of pondering. "Oh! Right! It was to you becoming president."
"I said no to your plan, so you insult me? Wow. Mature." Lee crossed his arms.
The noise of disgust that wrenched itself out of Jefferson's throat was nothing short of impressive. "I can't believe Lee is lecturing us about maturity."
"And they call you the hypocrite, Jefferson." Hamilton snarled. This partnership was interesting; there seemed to be only one thing in life that Thomas and Alexander agreed upon: the necessity for just and well-deserved leadership.
"Exactly," Thomas smirked, "And they call you in poor taste."
Lee's face flushed deep red. "Enough! I'm allowed to veto. Especially when your plans—"
"When his plans make sense?" Thomas offered. He looked reluctant to admit it, but ultimately defiant once it had been said.
"When his plans are necessary?" Angelica added.
"But they're not! They are nonsensical and they are unnecessary—"
Hamilton slammed a fist onto the podium before him, his eyes filling with a fire that immediately commanded the room. "Unnecessary?"
The council held still. Lee didn't dare respond.
"Do you know what happened after yesterday's meeting, Lee?"
"Hamilton..." Lee looked away in irritation.
"No," Alex pressed on, "You don't, do you? Or you're just not willing to admit it?"
"Hamilton, sit down—"
"So you won't even answer my question."
Lee looked flustered, fidgeting slightly.
"You have the audacity to say that there is no necessity for a place where LGBT-plus people can have a safe spot, the day after I find a detailed, eight-foot-tall piece of graffiti in a central hallway in this school that depicts graphic violence and is made entirely out of messily-written, homophobic slurs?" Alexander advanced. His eyes were trained only on Lee, as if the rest of the world had been blown out like a candle. "You and everyone in your privileged little world probably laugh at things like this—"
"Hamilton, I would never—"
"Your black eye from the last time this happened says otherwise," Thomas raised an eyebrow.
"Stay out of this, Jefferson," Lee snapped.
"You hear this guy?" Jefferson laughed, an unnerving sort of sound that made his eyes widen with a sort of perceived insanity. "Man tells me to stay out of my own affairs, talking about—"
Lee glared at Thomas. "Will you shut up about Madison? You don't get a handout for being offended by some graffiti or whatever—"
Jefferson cocked his head to the side, staring at Lee with a dangerous expression. "Do you really want to bring James into this? Do you really want to have that conversation?" Thomas moved towards Lee, who was slowly being surrounded by Jefferson and Hamilton. And, indeed, the situation was clearly beyond what he would deem comfortable.
Madison looked faint in his seat, red in the face and wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. Laurens was several rows back, looking feverish with disgust and anger.
"I have control here. You don't have the votes. Your plan won't make it through." Lee was attempting to move away from the secretary and treasurer to no avail.
"My plans will make it. I don't know about your presidency, though." Hamilton's voice dropped. "We're going to make the council take a vote and we're going to appeal to Mr. Washington and we're going to stop this from ever happening again."
Jefferson snatched up his pen and notebook from nearby, looking to the rows of seats. The tense chatter stopped. "Council, take a vote. All in favor of the creation of a GSA, meeting Friday afternoons, raise your hands."
"No!" Lee's voice cracked with disbelief. "This goes against administration's policies! Mr. Adams has nothing written about the formation of organizations in response to a case of simple graffiti. Sure, he mentions discrimination, but nothing against this kind of ridiculous case of overreaction! You're going against his policies. Everything you do betrays the ideals of administration! There shouldn't be a special place for anyone who doesn't deserve one. Sit down, Hamilton, go back to where you're from. And Jefferson, there's a nice spot on Madison's lap for you."
Laurens stood. Voices began to overlap and increase in volume as anger swelled throughout the group. Punches almost flew.
But punching Samuel Seabury meant expulsion, so when the teacher suddenly launched himself rather haplessly into the middle of the three, no one budged.
Seabury looked around with wide eyes, looking incredibly far out of his element. "Um, why doesn't everyone take a walk?" He suggested, visibly sweating. "Madison, Jefferson, take a walk...? Hamilton? Lee? Take a walk."
There was a tense moment in which every council member stared at one another warily.
They disbanded.
Alexander was spellbound. Could this really happen? It was absurd, certainly; Adams had to have a policy about hate crimes. Didn't he? Wouldn't he? And if he didn't, it would certainly mean there was a need for one. Hamilton's thoughts rushed around inside his head. There had to be some solution, something that would combat Lee's idiocy. Alex watched Jefferson tug Madison out of the room by the collar, steam practically coming out of Thomas's ears, and he watched Angelica go to talk to Eliza in hushed whisper on the side of the room. Yet he stood rooted in his spot. Everyone was getting up, moving, decompressing.
Hamilton almost missed it when Laurens got up from his seat, sprinting for the door.
As if woken from a trance, Alex's feet freed themselves, almost moving to chase after him; until all of a sudden someone was in front of him and John had disappeared.
"Alexander," Aaron Burr said, concern in his eyes, "Are you alright? You look like you need a drink."
"A drink?" Alex blinked. "I don't have a fake ID."
Aaron let out a chuckle. "I kind of had water in mind, actually. You look a bit... lightheaded."
Alex stared at him, studying his friend. Aaron looked... collected. Troubled, but collected. Where Alexander's face showed signs of severe sleep deprivation, Aaron's showed serenity; but where Alex's was beaming with loud pride, Aaron's looked defeated. Alex sighed. Something persuaded him not to rush past Burr to follow after Laurens, but Alexander wasn't quite sure what this force was. "Water's good. But I'm fine. Thank you."
"You hold your own up there," Burr said. "I was certain Lee was going to leave with a black eye."
"I thought he was going to have two. He still might," Hamilton replied dryly. "But Jefferson and I would have to fight over the one on the right that always twitches when he's angry. I'd like to sock him right there..."
Burr's amusement wasn't quite fully-realized. His mind seemed to switch gears. "That's what I was thinking about, actually."
"What?"
"Alexander, can I be real a second?"
"Yes."
"See... You're facing an endless uphill climb," Aaron said slowly. "You have so many bold ideas. I think so much would get done if you could try to restrain a little more around Lee... Yeah. I know it's hard."
Hamilton tilted his head. "Burr. It's just that when he's insulting everything I stand for—"
"I know," Aaron held up his hands in a casual gesture of surrender, "But look. Your skill with the pen is undeniable. But what you need is subtlety."
Alex was listening now. "What do you mean?"
"I can't exactly say much right here," Burr's voice hushed. "But if you want to get ahead..."
"Yes," Alex's eyes widened. He was, in simplest form, one mass of impatience in this moment. He wanted to find John. He wanted to get his plan through. He wanted to make Lee pay. He wanted to go home and get more writing done. And he wanted it all to happen now.
"You just have to plant the right seeds," Aaron said. "If you write the notes at the beginning of a song, you get to pick the key, Alex."
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Alexander shook his head slightly.
"Just get your ideas started and instilled into people's minds," he clarified, "And they'll get done. Don't be afraid to wait for it. If you play your cards right, Alex, the rest is gonna follow."
Alex looked at Aaron for a long moment. He shook his head just the slightest bit. Why was he always so mysterious? Why did he never talk about his past or his life at all? Why did he lie in wait? Why? Nothing in Burr's eyes answered these questions. Alexander glanced away for a moment, and when his eyes returned to Aaron, he found a slight smile waiting for him. "Thank you, Aaron. How's your girl?"
Burr's smile grew around the edges. "Unnervingly excellent."
Alex grinned in response. Burr nodded, stepping one foot forward and giving Hamilton an impromptu pat on the shoulder before turning around. Alex's eyes widened in surprise at the gesture, and as Aaron began to head back to his seat, Hamilton found himself calling out a sudden "Wait."
Burr looked back over his shoulder. "Hmm?"
"I was thinking of your advice the other day." Alexander wasn't quite sure why he'd suddenly been compelled to say this, but something in him was pounding with the resolution that Burr should know.
"Oh," he replied, crossing his arms passively. "And did it help?"
Alex nodded slowly. "I think so."
Burr tilted his head knowingly, his smile growing. "Smile more, Alexander. Good luck with the rest of the meeting."
Alex smiled back. "Thank you."
"Hey," Burr held up an index finger, digging with his free hand in one pocket of his jacket. Quickly, he pulled out a pack of gum, and, removing two sticks, silently offered one to Alexander, who took it gratefully.
"Thank you," he repeated, unwrapping it and popping it in his mouth. Burr followed suit, nodding with his slight smile before walking back to his seat.
If Hamilton was planning on finding John being his next order of business, he was promptly interrupted by the sudden appearance of a nervous-looking Samuel Seabury before him.
"Hello, Mr. Hamilton," Seabury began, glancing around at the council members who had remained in the room. "Um... Can I ask you a question?"
"Yes, sir," Alex replied, managing to conceal his impatience.
"I'm considering ending the meeting now," he said, looking around as though someone would be listening in and ready to attack. "I have a... erm... a bad feeling about where this is going and if something happens..."
"This is how every meeting goes," Alex said, shifting his weight to look over Seabury's shoulder.
"It's just that chaos and bloodshed are not a solution to any of this, and if something happens, it's supposed to be on my call—"
"I just need one more shot," Hamilton interjected, eyes flicking back to the stack of papers on the podium that contained his plan. He only had to get this plan through.
"I think I have to call it off," Seabury responded. He gulped. "As a safety restriction. It would be in your best interests to call it off now."
"Mr. Seabury—"
"Mhm," the teacher stood up straighter, for once displaying a degree of assertiveness. "Get everyone from the halls. The meeting is hereby curtailed."
Hamilton was a moment away from stomping his foot on the linoleum tile floor in a juvenile show of frustration. "But, sir, I—"
"That is all. I'll see you in English tomorrow."
Seabury went back to Washington's desk, beginning to pull on his coat. Alexander clenched his fists, retrieving his papers from the front of the room and walking sullenly back to his bag. Students were already beginning to file back into the room, expecting to continue the meeting but quickly hearing word that this was no longer the plan. Hamilton saw Jefferson trudge back in, Madison at his heels. He saw Peggy return, her water bottle newly filled. He saw others come in, but Laurens was not one of them.
It was concerning to Alex, to say the least.
"Is everything alright, Aléxandre?"
Suddenly, Lafayette was beside him with one hand on his shoulder. Alex looked up from his bag to find both Laf and Hercules standing by him, and before he knew it, comfort washed over him. They would know what to do.
"Have you two seen John?" Hamilton zipped his bag, pulling it on and glancing cautiously towards John's empty seat.
"No," Hercules adjusted his hat, pulling it further down his forehead. "He took a walk. I remember seeing him leave."
"It was more of a run, mon cher," Lafayette recalled, leaning an elbow on Herc's shoulder. "I remember seeing him, how you say... Sprint out."
"He better not be gone by now," Hercules shook his head, shuffling a little back and forth. "And if he's in that bathroom..."
"Ah. He probably went to that bathroom," Lafayette nodded assuringly. Alex still wasn't following.
"What bathroom? Is he alright?"
"John is a knucklehead," Herc explained, shrugging, "And he needs some shaping up sometimes. So when he wants to run away from something around school, he goes to the basement bathroom. It's almost always locked, but if you pick it the right way, it opens."
"Hercules started a club down there last year," Laf added, grinning a little. "He taught almost every freshman how to pick the locks. And John et moi, aussi. I still remember how to do this..."
"Evidently, John does, too." Hamilton began to walk towards the door, his feet moving almost as fast as his mind.
"Wait!" Lafayette grabbed Hercules by the arm and ran after Alex, his ponytail coming slightly loose. "You don't even know which direction you are going!"
"Then let's hurry. Lead the way." The three moved fast, Lafayette taking the lead and Hercules following close behind. Hamilton kept pace, his head spinning with anxiety and nervousness. "What does he do in there?"
"In that bathroom?" Hercules asked. "Depends. Mostly just take a breather or something. But sometimes it's worse. I don't think it should be any worse this time, though."
"Worse?"
"John is fine, Alex," Herc responded.
"All is well," Laf nodded, and the three descended a staircase two steps at a time.
At a running pace, the group reached the basement in decent time, and, upon seeing the scratched, thick, wooden door leading to this bathroom, Alex shook his head. "He's in there?"
Hercules grinned, his teeth showing in a display of pure pride, and he pulled a pin out of his pocket. "Just you wait."
Alex watched in fascination and Lafayette watched in pride as Herc slid the pin into the lock, moving it in a carefully-calculated series of directions until the door swung open a crack. Hercules wedged his foot through, sticking his head in.
"Laurens?"
Alex held his breath. Lafayette listened. Herc glanced back at the two.
A creaking noise sounded inside the bathroom, followed by a shaky voice. "In the place to be."
"Laurens, get outta the bathroom." Hercules kicked the door open enough to fit through, and Lafayette followed. Hamilton entered behind him, glancing around.
"The meeting has ended, mon cher," Laf said, moving to knock on the stall door. "Do you need a way home?"
"No," Laurens sounded weak. "I've got my car, don't sweat it."
"You sure? I can drive you," Hercules offered, crossing his arms.
"I'm good," John replied from the other side of the stall door. "Y'all can go home. I'll go soon."
"Do you need water or something?" Lafayette leaned on the stalls.
"No. I'm just..."
"Hmm?" Hercules played with the broken dials on the sink.
"I'll be out soon. I've gotta get home to my father, anyway." Laurens sighed.
"I'm not leaving till you prove you're not dead or dying," Herc stated, eyes on the stall.
"I'm alright. I'm fine, Herc."
"We're waiting, mon ami," Laf said, fixing his ponytail in a graceful flourish.
There came another sigh from the stall, and then the lock moved and John's face came in view. His cheeks were flushed in a pattern indicating anger and perhaps a quality of being distraught, his eyes too-dry and too-wide. He looked at Hercules. He looked at Laf. His jaw dropped slightly at the sight of Alex.
"Alexander," he said, caught off guard. "How did you...?"
"They brought me," Alex answered, stepping forwards. "I asked them."
"Oh. I..."
"You're sure you're okay?" Alex took another step, and, to his surprise, John drew back and shut the door.
"I'm okay. Thank you. I'll be out soon, I just... Need another minute."
Alex, Laf, and Hercules all glanced at each other for a long moment.
"Okay," Lafayette said finally.
"Call one of us when you're home," Hercules said, beginning to head for the door. "Got it?"
"Mm-hmm. Thanks."
"Goodbye, John," Alexander said, his tone nervously hollow.
John leaned against the stall door and listened for the three pairs of feet to leave. Once the bathroom was silent again and the door had closed once more, Laurens let out a breath.
He had come to this bathroom fairly often the previous year, and it had always meant the same thing: solitude, peace, silence, and some degree of serenity. Especially following his mother's death, it'd been important for him to find a place where he could collect his thoughts and— admittedly, sometimes —panic without interruption. At home, he had his tall tree behind the garden, and at school, he had this bathroom. But since Alexander's arrival, John had had to escape to here less and less. Safety and comfort came now in the embrace of Hamilton and not of the space between the walls of the stalls. And stability was easier with his help, so this comfort was needed less frequently as of late.
But given the current state of John and Alex's relationship, this comfort had mostly disappeared.
And so it was to the bathroom on the lowest level of G. Kings Memorial High School that Laurens returned, once again seeking peace and security within its confines.
John couldn't shoulder this burden any longer.
What Lee had said. What John had seen on the wall yesterday. What his father had been saying for ages.
John couldn't shoulder this disadvantage any longer.
Why was the world falling behind and running late? Why was everything around him against him, simply because he was different?
Different. Different. Different.
The chorus of John's own endless, internal torture came crawling back, voices overlapping and strengthening and erasing and creating worlds and narratives that stumbled over one another in his mind.
Different. Different. Different.
John slid the lock open, pushing the door open with numb hands.
Different. Different. Different.
He seemed to float through the hallways, walking with the weight of some sort pressing on his feet with each step.
Different. Different. Different.
In what world was this so bad? In what world should anyone have to endure this treatment, this stigma, for no reason other than falling in love with people of the same gender?
Different. Different. Different.
John quickened his pace, pushing through the doors to the parking lot. He walked to his car. Jammed the key in the ignition. Dropped his bag on the passenger seat.
Different. Different. Different.
What was so wrong with being different from what the movies showed and the cartoons played and the books told? What was so wrong with wanting to marry the prince in the fairy tales? What was so wrong with any of this?
Different. Different. Different.
Laurens drove home, his eyes on the road.
And not once was there a single tear in them.
"Jack, did you stop at the store to get more bread for tonight?"
"No. I forgot to... I can go now."
"No. It's too late. We'll just eat the soup without it."
Henry Laurens sighed, and John felt his eyes on him. He'd just gotten home, and it was as if the world had been covered by a fog; not a single action felt real or complete to him. But he nodded and pulled his car keys out of the pocket of his jeans, offering to venture back out to run the errand which was, evidently, worth sighing over. "Certain?"
"Yes." Henry returned to typing on his computer, the screen glowing and projecting a blue light on his face.
John had never noticed all those wrinkles.
"Look," Henry looked up, raising his eyebrows at John. "I think you're not in a terribly good mood. You never forget to check your texts, Jack, I know that."
"It slipped my mind."
"I couldn't believe that if I tried." Henry shrugged. "I don't have much time for this. Is it the council meeting? Did it go badly?"
"Well... I..."
"Did they start trying to fund that gay alliance club they wanted? Is that it?"
"Um..."
"Is something going on with you? Maybe it's just the blues. You need a girlfriend or something—"
"Dad."
"Is it the whole situation with this organization? I understand the proposal for such a thing can be a bit shocking..."
"Dad."
"Jack, you've just got to let me know what it is. I'm trying to be a better parent, and getting involved in this kind of thing—"
"Dad."
"And don't tell me you've been asked to participate in anything of the sort. I have work to do, son. If you're going to act—"
"Dad," John's mind was launching into full-on frenzy mode once again, and his thoughts blended into a loud, overpowering mess of Alexander Hamilton and fear and John's siblings and his mother and the graffiti from the day before and recklessness and adrenaline.
Different. Different. Different.
No. John expelled these thoughts. He threw them to the hurricane. He blew them all away.
Raise a glass to freedom.
"Dad, I'm gay."