Alexandra Hamilton

Seven- I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here

Lin opened the door. "Raichel!" He exclaimed, balancing a five-year-old on his hip. "Vee, come here, the kid's here!"

A/N: RIGHT NOW in the A. Ham Universe, it is December 2015, time moves fluidly, so sooner or later we WILL CATCH UP TO THE REAL WORLD

I followed Raichel into their apartment. It was tiny and cramped, three armchairs crowded in front of a television in the sitting room. A square table sat in a tiny dining nook, and there was a little galley kitchen. There were two bedrooms, one all blue and train-y and with bunk beds, and the other slightly larger with a full sized bed.

"The squirt's gonna be staying in here," Lin said, gesturing at the top bunk. "We're looking for a new home, so we'll incorporate getting her her own bedroom."

Raichel nodded. "Of course."

Lin led us back to the kitchen. His wife, who he had called Vee, was standing with their son. She smiled. "I'm gonna go put Seb down for a nap, he's been kinda fussy."

Seb sighed, a accompanied by a dramatic childish eye roll. "Momma, I'm not tired! I don't wanna!"

"Sure, Seb," Vee said, carrying him away anyway. "Oomph, you're getting big," I heard her say.

Lin, Raichel, Officer Durant, and myself sat at the table. Raichel pulled an iPad out of her bag and showed Lin a few scanned documents. "So this is the exchange of guardianship," she began. "These are the ones that I emailed to you, that you'll need to register her for school and stuff."

"Of course."

Lin and Raichel talked about legal stuff, and I just sort of looked at my hands. Once Raich was gone, I got outgoing, but it was easier for her to think I was meek. As fiery as I am, I do enjoy making it easier for other people. I hate being a burden, but I also hate being told down, which is probably why the Thomases hated me so much. I was a burden, but I talked smack. I deserved every smack I received.

I rubbed my nose. Yes, I deserved the hits for not doing better, I deserved the bottle smashed on my head for not being subservient enough, but no one else could see. I had to be strong. If I wasn't strong, what was I?

Durant cleared his throat. "Miss Laverne, I still need to ask you a few questions."

"Why, what happened?" Lin asked. I turned a few shades short of beet red. "Um."

"When we arrived to pick up Miss Laverne-"

Raichel glanced at me. "You took the name Thomas!"

"Yeah, before they started beating me!" I retorted. I realized what I'd said.

Raichel's eyes widened in horror. "Oh, sweetie..."

"Excuse me," Durant coughed. "Miss Laverne, how did you get into your situation?"

I stopped smiling. "Well. The kid you got, um, he pulled me into that room, and he locked the door, and, well... he, um... nothing major happened. Before you guys got there."

Lin looked confused, then shocked. "What- you don't mean-"

Durant nodded. "Miss Laverne, I think that's all we need for now. I'm sorry, and thank you for your time."

"Thank you."

Raichel watched him go, then hopped up perkily. "Okay, well, all's set! Alex, you've got my number?"

I recited Raichel's phone number, and after a quick hug, she left.

I was left standing awkwardly in the kitchen with Lin. "So."

"I'm sorry, squirt. And, uh, I lied."

"About?"

"You sharing a room with Sebastian. He never sleeps the night through. We're going to have you sleeping at the theater until we can get our new home which is going to have another room."

"I get to sleep in the Richard Rodgers?" I gushed. Lin laughed.

"Yeah, we'll get you all your furbelows and whatnot, and then we'll move you in to one of the spare dressing rooms."

I smiled. "This is great."

Lin shook his head. "Squirt, we aren't even there yet!"

Lin kissed his wife (Vanessa) then took me out, heading to the subway. As we got to the lobby, he said, "I feel bad just dropping you in the theater. What's your phone number?"

"My what?"

Lin waggled his iPhone. "You know, cell phone!"

"Oh, I don't have one. I don't have, like, anything. I've got the clothes on me, a sparkly blue Cinderella hairbrush, and a Hamilton CD. That's it. Plus, I left the hairbrush at the Thomases's house."

Lin's smile was frozen on his face. "Oh. We'll fix that."

We didn't speak as we headed towards the subway, and Lin stopped. "You probably need a MetroCard."

"Yep."

Lin headed over to the machine, fed a bill into it, and turned, presenting me with a yellow rectangle. "Here. Now, we're heading to this home decoration place- what do you like?"

"What do I like?" I repeated. "Um, I like Harry Potter."

"Yeah, magic!"

"I like it because he's an orphan, like me, but he amounted to something. So maybe, I will too," I shrugged.

Lin stamped his foot like a petulant child. "Squirt, stop being so dark! Magic, Hogwarts, I can work with this!"

I smiled. "I'll try, but I'm not promising anything. Yes, magic, Hogwarts. I, um, am also a big fan of Broadway."

Lin's smile grew until he resembled the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland (my class watched it in fifth grade). "I knew it! You told me the other night!"

"Oh, yeah."

"So what's your favorite musical?"

"Hamilton."

"Yeah it is! What's your favorite song?"

"Oh, jeez. Um, Satisfied, Non-Stop, or Burn. Oh, or Wait For It."

Lin nodded. "Those are all good. And the way you were singing Satisfied the other night? Good God!"

I turned red. "Thanks."

"This is our train," Lin said, leading me onto the metro.

On August 7, 1781, a group of Tories and Native Americans forced their way into the Schuyler Mansion in Albany, searching for Philip Schuyler, whom they intended to make a prisoner of war. According to a story which may be legend, family members and guests, including Eliza and Angelica, who were both pregnant, ran upstairs to hide, but soon realized they had left Philip and Catharine Schuyler's newborn daughter Catharine (1781-1857) downstairs. Peggy went downstairs to get the baby, but was threatened by one of the Native Americans, who asked where Philip Schuyler was. Thinking quickly, Peggy replied that Schuyler had "gone to alarm the town". Fearing capture, the raiders fled, but one threw a tomahawk at Peggy, who was running upstairs with the child (she LAUGHED). The tomahawk left a cut mark in the banister, which the Schuyler family supposedly left in place as a memento. This story begins to appear in published works in the 1830s, but no contemporary evidence of the story can be found in the letters and records of Philip Schuyler or of the Loyalists, under the direction of Captain John Walter Meyer, who raided the home.

GUYS. 'AND PEGGY' WAS FREAKING BADASS. THAT'S WHY I CHOSE 'LITTLE MISS SCHUYLER'

-Pegs