Alexandra Hamilton

Eleven- Opera Ghost

I woke up the next morning to hear the radio still playing. I mean, I couldn't just turn off Schuyler Sisters, so I sang along to wake me up.

"Look around, look around!" I hummed as I stepped out of the shower, drying myself and pulling on an outfit. I was wearing light skinny jeans, red high tops, and a plain black t-shirt. I experimented with my hair, doing a knot with the top layer.

I opened the mini fridge and retrieved the first burrito, which only had a few nibbles taken from it. I didn't want to just sit there eating, so I grabbed the one book in my room (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, an early Christmas gift from Paige)  and the comforter off of my bed, dragging it down to the stage. I climbed up the stairs and curled up, reading once again about orphan Harry. My Dursleys were taken care of.

I unwrapped myself from the comforter and walked down the stairs to center stage. I imagined being the star.

"I saved every letter you wrote me," I began.

I belted out all of Burn, imagining the audience cheering for me. I smiled. Took a bow.

"You sing in a most eloquent manner, Miss Laverne."

I whirled around. "Who's there?"

"My humblest apologies, miss."

A man materialized in front of me. "My name is Alexander Hamilton."

My eyes got huge. "What the-"

"I know it seems like a lot to take in," Hamilton started, putting his hands up placatingly. I stepped over to him. He was a pearly white with hints of color in his hair and eyes, and he was barely taller than me. "And you should know that I am nothing more than a figment of your imagination."

"I'm dreaming?"

"That is correct."

I laughed. "Okay, I was really worried there. So, how have you been?"

Hamilton shifted. "Uncomfortable, actually. Too many are gathered above my grave, and they all speak of me in the highest reverences. That never used to happen before."

"I think that is my foster dad's fault. He wrote a musical about you," I told the ghost of Hamilton. "It's a hit. You wanna hear one of your songs?"

"I would be enchanted."

I coughed. "So, this is where you just meet Laurens, Lafayette, and Mulligan."

I started off My Shot again. Hamilton stopped me when I said, "Burr, check what we got!"

"Aaron Burr?"

"Mister Lafa- yes, Aaron Burr. He's good, too!"

"He's the one who shot me."

"I know, that song made me cry- I, I mean, you have my sympathy that you were betrayed buy such a close friend."

Hamilton shook his head in a small smile. "It is good that I am remembered."

I fidgeted. "Um, they also sing about your son Philip."

Hamilton's face hardened. "Please don't talk about him."