Chapter Text
Alexander Hamilton could never be defeated. Since he was born, life had been an uphill battle. Born in Nevis, he and his older brother were left alone. Their father abandoned them and their mother died from a fever. Their only closest relation was a cousin who agreed to care for the two. The arrangement did not last long. Their new guardian committed suicide a few months later, and the brothers were forced to separate in search for a new home. A couple years later, a hurricane decimated Alexander’s town, forcing him to watch his friends, family, and future slip from his grasp like the receding waves left from the flood. Amidst all the sorrow and devastation, Alexander wrote his way out. He wrote his way to the United States; to New York, where he was placed into the foster care system. There, he met Aaron Burr.
Like Alexander Hamilton, Aaron Burr had also been orphaned at a very young age. He lost his siblings to sickness, just as he had lost his parents. With no other relation able to take him in, Aaron sunk into the foster care system, moving from family to family between New Jersey and New York every couple months. He kept only a worn, olive-green cloth backpack with him as he traveled. Inside was a textbook on law – his only permanent possession. Also like Alexander Hamilton, Aaron Burr never backed down.
The foster care system in which Alexander and Aaron met presented new obstacles for both the boys. Many of the new challenges they faced were the boys simply trying to tolerate the other. For whatever reason, Alexander and Burr were consistently placed together in the same temporary households. At first, the placements had seemed like harmless coincidences. But, after a while, it became aggravating.
Aaron despised the way Alexander was always so blunt and abrasive; he was the very definition of impetuous. True, that attitude did seem to get the results Alexander desired, but it also provoked displeasure from their foster parents, which almost always forced them to change households again, and again, and again. Aaron tried his best to wait patiently for the desired actions of his foster parents; a trait that frustrated Alexander to the utmost degree. Alexander viewed Aaron’s attitude to be passive and indifferent to their futures, as if he was wasting time by waiting. He believed that it was Aaron’s ambivalence toward their foster parents that caused them to be tossed aside and forgotten.
There were a few times when Alexander and Aaron were separated, however. Though, in those months apart, the two boys missed each other’s company the most. Despite their differences, they had formed an almost brotherly attachment to one another.
In the winter of 2009, Alexander and Aaron were once again paired together in a household. In the spring of 2010, the two were still there. It was the longest either of them have been able to stay in a foster house: 6 months! Alexander was finally beginning to feel his life piece back together. That was, until he heard the suspicious sounds coming from his and Aaron’s shared bedroom.
That night, Alexander had left to go to the library, but had forgotten…something – he couldn’t remember the exact details. What he did remember was pausing in the hallway of their room. Had he imagined the undecipherable whispers; the sound of a muffled mouth; the shush that followed? Letting his instincts guide him, Alexander peeked inside the bedroom’s barely cracked door. He had to stifle his mouth with both hands as to not scream in horror at the sight. Quickly composing himself, Alexander knocked rapidly on the door, his mind racing. He heard a few seconds of skirmishing and the bed creaking from the release of weight. Alexander and Aaron’s foster father opened the door. Behind him, Aaron was sitting on his twin bed, back turned away from him. Alexander stated the item he had left behind, and their foster father allowed him to enter the room.
Once in the room, Alexander grabbed the worn, olive-green cloth backpack that was on the ground and carefully placed Aaron’s law textbook inside. Next, he grabbed his own backpack and his lone permanent possession, a notebook.
“You’re still going to help me study for our test tomorrow, right, Aaron?” Alexander had asked the boy, who was still sitting on the bed, stock-still. Aaron turned his head a fraction to look at Alexander with the two backpacks in his hand and ever-so-slightly nodded.
Alexander and Aaron left the household and didn’t stop running until they reached the apartment of an acquaintance they had managed to make during their time in the area. For the rest of the night, Alexander wrote furiously about the abuses and maltreatments of kids trapped in the foster care system; about the nights he and Aaron were forced to take their backpacks and move into the next open household; about the futility they faced for being consistently unwanted; about the hopelessness Alexander felt listening to Aaron quietly sob that night.
Alexander’s resulting 8 page document spread to the front page of Reddit, which was then featured in Buzzfeed and online newspaper articles. The document soon went viral, spreading across the nation, though Alexander urged to keep their identity private so that Aaron did not have the entire country knowing the humiliating and horrifying experience was his. Despite their deliberate anonymity, two people were somehow able to get their contact information. A couple days after the document went viral, the boys’ acquaintance received a call from someone who wanted to speak to Alexander and Aaron. Their names were Augustine and Mary Ball Washington. They had a son named George.
The family had seen their story on the news, and read Alexander’s document online. All three unanimously agreed that they could do something to help. They wanted to adopt Alexander and Aaron. After several phone calls and skype interviews and emails back and forth, Alexander and Aaron agreed to see if they really could be adopted by this new family. With Aaron’s worn, olive-green cloth backpack, law textbook, and Alexander’s notebook in tow, the two said goodbye to the East Coast and hello to their potentially new home across the country in Mt. Vernon, Washington State.
Alexander felt Aaron take a shaky breath beside him as he stepped away from the airplane terminal.
Alexander could never be defeated in the face of a challenge. Aaron refused to be either. The new challenge the two faced before them now was none other than surviving high school.
Their experiences had aged them well beyond their age of High School Freshmen, though Aaron was all but discretely shaking as they walked across the campus of Mt. Vernon High School. Alexander rested his hand on Aaron’s back.
“Are you going to be OK? You have my number in case you need to call, right?” he asked quietly, careful not to lure the attention from other students passing them.
Aaron shrugged out of Alexander’s reach. “I’m…I’m fine. It’s just cold out,” he huffed, tightening his thin jacket around him as emphasis. But he turned to the other gratefully. “But yes, I have it. And you have mine?”
Alexander nodded. “Let’s meet after school, too,” they stopped walking so they could examine the map of the campus they held. Alexander had to unfold his copy multiple times to get the wrinkles out. “Let’s meet…here,” he pointed to a circle on the map. “It’s the flagpole out front. George insists on driving us home, so we gotta be in a place he can see us.”
“Don’t we also have his number? We could just text him where we are.”
“We could, but—“Alexander didn’t want to say why he wanted him and Aaron to wait out in the open; why he didn’t want Aaron to ever be alone again.
Fortunately, he didn’t have to. The first bell alerting students to get to class sounded, and Alexander looked at the map he was once again anxiously wadding up. “Okay, so you have your schedule, your lunch, your—“ he asked Aaron quickly.
Aaron rolled his eyes. “Alexander, I’m not fucking five. We’ve…done this before,” sadness flashed for a moment in his expression then was gone.
“Sometimes I forget you’re not a child!” Alexander chided. “But…you’re right. I’ll…” He urged to give his pseudo-brother a hug, but squeezed his shoulder instead. “I’ll meet you by the flag pole!” he called as he began walking toward his class in the other direction.
The first day of school passed without too many big events happening. There were just a few awkward moments in classes in which the teacher conducted pointless get-to-know-each-other games. In those, Alexander’s classmates were shocked to discover that he did not have a Twitter, a Tumblr, or at the very least a FaceBook page. He was tempted to see their reaction in finding out that Alexander did not even own a cell phone until that very morning when George Washington handed two new ones to him and Aaron. He was compelled to blurt out how he grew up, where he had been three months ago, who wrote that viral 8 page document, just to watch their expression go blank in surprise; to see if they would finally shut up.
But, he didn’t. Instead, he continued to roll and unroll and fold and unfold the campus map. He restrained himself only in response to Aaron’s advice he had given him that morning: “Talk less. Smile more. We may actually be here a while. So behave.” At the time, Alexander replied with a snide “Okay, dad,” but now took the tip seriously. Maybe he couldn’t be as blunt as he’d like to be if he was going to be stuck with these kids for the next four years. For the first time, he had to think past tomorrow’s interactions.
Or, maybe Alexander checked himself because there was one person who kept showing up in his classes. He didn’t want all the attention to be focused on himself if he wanted to successfully observe this kid across the room.
The boy was nearly impossible to miss. For one, he was almost late to every class Alexander had with him. He, too, held a crumpled map of the campus in one hand, and a copy of his class schedule in the other. His curly hair – despite being cut short – bounced on his head as he walked, contrasting the neatly primed cuts the other students brandished. (In this way, the boy’s hair was even more contrasting to Alexander’s hair, which seemed to stick out in the oddest places despite its short length.) The boy’s eyes were accentuated by dark circles that screamed sleep deprivation and his face exhibited a surprisingly large splattering of freckles. After a sharp ding! rang through the room as his hand came in contact with the metal chair legs, Alexander noticed a unique bracelet around his left wrist. A smooth stone was wrapped tightly in the string, and the boy would absentmindedly rub his thumb along the stone when it was his turn to speak.
The pointless get-to-know-each-other games in Alexander’s classes did serve one purpose after all. From them, he learned that the boy’s name was John; John Laurens to be exact. He also learned that his birthday was October 28, and he owned two pet turtles. He had an accent that was hard to place, and he had been homeschooled until 2 years ago. He liked animals, but could only draw them in a cartoonish style without a reference.
In these games, Alexander answered each question carefully, making sure no one knew too much about his past. For John’s answers, he made sure to tuck each of them away in his memory.
When the bell rang for lunch, Alexander grabbed his backpack and walked away from the cafeteria. He wasn’t quite in the mood to eat, and was certainly not in the mood to deal with all the awkward forced interactions of high school lunch. Instead, he sauntered through the now-empty hallways, enjoying his time alone and his chance to explore the campus. Maybe he would get a chance to write in his notebook that was now safely resting in his new backpack. He readjusted the shoulder straps on his backpack for the fiftieth time that day. He was so used to having nothing that it would take a while for him to get used to the weight of the new items the Washingtons had provided for him inside.
As he rounded the corner, he spotted John Laurens sitting alone on a bench, his tray of food untouched next to him, and an open notebook in his lap. It appeared that he was writing quite intently in it. Alexander began to approach, but stopped when he saw Aaron walking outside. He pushed open the doors leading outside and called for him to wait up.
“Why are you skipping lunch?” Alexander asked once he got closer.
Aaron raised his eyebrows. “I could ask the same for you,” he retorted and gestured around the campus, which was honestly a bit grey and bleak. “I just wanted to explore the area a bit.”
“Same,” Alexander responded, though they both knew that was only half true. “So wh—“ a sharp ding interrupted him mid-sentence. He pulled out his new phone and saw that George had texted them, Where are u guys? I saved you a seat. He sighed. “I guess George is looking for us; maybe we should head back.”
The two trudged back to the cafeteria, where George greeted them with an overly friendly clap on the back. He left his hands there for a second too long, as if he was anxious they were wild animals, on the verge of running away.
“Aaron! Alexander! These are Nathan and Henry!” George indicated to two other boys sitting at his table. Alexander knew that George was a junior this year, so he could only assume that these boys were upperclassmen as well.
“Aaron, I heard that you wanted to study law,” the boy named Nathan stated as he and Alexander sat down. Aaron smiled and nodded curtly in response. “Well, if you’re interested, we have a Mock Trial Club here,” he procured a flyer (that was obviously made by a student) and handed it to Aaron. “It’s a little selective, but George had told us a little bit about your work. We’d love to see you in action. Just say that ‘Nathanael Greene’ recommended you at the room on that form, and we’ll give you more info.” Aaron smiled again and tucked the flyer into his worn backpack.
“Tell ‘em ‘Henry Knox’ recommended you too!” the other boy chimed in. “I helped create that club y’know, so my opinion is probably more powerful than Nathan’s,” Henry ignored Nathan’s huff and turned to Alexander. “And you! George told about your writing; he even showed us some of your work!” Alexander felt his face drop and his shoulders tense, but Henry didn’t notice. “We could really use your skills to win some cases! What if you became our secretary?” the upperclassmen laughed, but Alexander was far from joining in.
Did George show them that viral document? Do they know how we came here?? “Be your secretary? I don’t think so,” he hissed under his breath. Only Aaron noticed.
“Why’re you upset?” he whispered.
“I’m not –” Alexander began, clearly upset, but ceased upon receiving a warning glare. Talk less. Smile more. He took a breath, and responded tartly, “I’ll give it some thought,” to Henry.
That answer ended the conversation. The rest of lunch and the rest of the day continued to pass. Finally, the first day of high school was over. Alexander stood by the flagpole to wait for Aaron and George.
He checked the time on his phone anxiously. Ten minutes, and still no sign of either of them. He shot off a Where are you?? text and flinched as a raindrop hit his neck. Looking up, he realized that it had started to drizzle. As long as it wasn’t too strong, he would be fine, he told himself. He looked forward again in time to see a student walking slightly in front of a young woman with black, curly hair crossing the courtyard. The papers the young woman was carrying were suddenly flown in the air as she tripped over the student’s shoes. The student proceeded to walk away. Alexander grimaced at the cruelty and rushed to help the young woman clean up the mess.
As Alexander helped collect the soggy papers, another boy rounded the corner and began to assist as well. Alexander looked up and recognized the dark curly locks and tired eyes. It was John Laurens, the notebook he was working in before now tucked under his arm. The two finished cleaning up the mess, and the young woman thanked them each very genuinely, her great volume of curly hair bouncing. John offered a crooked smile in return, of which Alexander was surprised to see on such a bleak day.
“You’re…John, right?” he asked as she continued on her way.
Another cloud-parting smile. “Yeah! And you’re Alexander. We have a few classes together.”
Alexander nodded as they began to walk. “Three, right?”
John thought for a second. “I think…four, actually. I saw you at that PE meeting in the gym today.”
“Ah…” Alexander contemplated and heard a sharp chime from his phone. He took it out and read Aaron’s response to his previous text: By the flag pole with George. Where are you?? He looked at the flagpole he was previously waiting at; no one else was there. “Are…There’s not any other flag poles around here, are there?” he asked John.
“I think I saw one in the front of the school,” he answered, opening up his notebook to look at the map inside. He showed Alexander, who gawked at his own stupidity. He’d been waiting at the wrong pole the entire time. Gathering his backpack, he began to walk across campus with John. “Who are you meeting?” John asked.
“My…” Alexander began. Friend? Enemy? Frenemy who through a series of misfortunate events, is now my adopted brother? That’d be a pretty weird description to give John. “My brother, Aaron Burr,” he concluded plainly.
John raised his eyebrows. “I have Aaron in one of my classes. You say he’s your brother? But you’re –”
“We’re, uhm, adopted,” Alexander interjected, sparing John the awkwardness of pointing out the differences in their skin tones. “From New York, actually. We just came here a couple months ago; a kid here named George Washington and his family agreed to take us in. It’s the first time we ever left the East Coast since-” He stopped talking abruptly. What came over him? For the past few years, he purposefully kept his mouth shut about his past, but suddenly he wanted to spill everything to John, just like the rain beginning to spill from the sky. He flinched again as another raindrop hit his skin.
John sounded his amazement. “Yo, that’s pretty cool. Must be kind of a big change, huh?”
Alexander only nodded to prevent any more spilling. Talk less. A couple more minutes of silence passed, and he reflected on John’s pronunciation of words. His vowels were pronounced with a much rounder inflection, and his “r’s” seemed to carry into the next word. “John, where are you from?”
He chuckled and looked down. “Damn, I’ve been trying to correct this accent. Well, I was born and raised in South Carolina - in Charleston. But two years ago, my father took my siblings and me to England.” This time Alexander raised his eyebrows in surprise, but John’s eyes were oddly shaded. He rubbed the stone on his bracelet quickly and snapped out of his trance. “Now…here we are,” he gestured around him. “We actually just moved into our new house last night. I’m…a little bit more than jet-lagged to be honest.”
“Wow…I guess that beats my story,” Alexander and John laughed. They finally reached the front of the school, where Aaron and George were standing. “I’d really like to hear more about England! Do you think we can talk more about it later?” he asked John sincerely.
John grinned. “Yeah, that’d be great! And it might be cool to hear about New York too!” Alexander hid the panic in his face at that. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow!” He waved goodbye, the stone bracelet he had noticed earlier bouncing on his wrist, and started to walk away from the campus.
Alexander met up with Aaron and George at the correct flag pole. Aaron, phone clutched tightly in his hand, was glaring at him in annoyance, but George greeted him warmly. “Well, Alex, looks like you already made a friend!”
“That’s new,” Aaron muttered.
“Shut it,” Alexander shot back, and the three headed toward George’s car in the parking lot.
The Washingtons had been extremely generous to the newest additions to their family. That night, they fixed a celebratory meal for Aaron and Alexander for a successful first day of school. Even after George reassured Alexander that he hadn’t revealed to anyone that he wrote the viral document, he couldn’t help feeling defensive and stony around his new family. That night, Alexander tried his best to bite his tongue whenever he was compelled to snap for being treated like a child while Aaron tried his best to be as warm as he could be. He smiled much more than was necessary, but couldn’t hide his wariness around their new father figure.
Grateful as he was for the Washingtons’ kindness, Alexander was uneasy from the dark clouds over the house for the rest of the night. He excused himself to go to his and Aaron’s shared bedroom. Once there, he took out his notebook and began to translate all his experiences, feelings, and anxieties during the day into an endless stream of writing.
A couple hours passed, and he found a pair of pajama pants in the suitcase he had brought from New York. He finished changing and tucked his notebook, old clothes, and suitcase back under his bed.
Once in bed, the rain had stopped outside his window, and Alexander could breathe easily again. He sunk into the pillow and several blankets on his bed. Aaron across the room had already fallen asleep.
Alexander laid back and stared up at the dark ceiling, lost in thought. This arrangement is certainly…not the worst we’ve had, he concluded. He looked around the room. The walls were bare, devoid of any personality or character. There was one dresser, one desk, one bedside table with a lamp on it in the room with them. The carpet had been obviously vacuumed recently, and everything was laid pristine and spotless – just for Alexander’s and Aaron’s arrival. Yet Alexander felt like an intruder; an annoying stain on the immaculate carpet. He pulled his knees closer to his chest, attempting to make himself smaller.
The Washingtons tried so hard to accommodate him and Aaron, he knew that. George, with an overzealous attitude, tried to be their older brother, and their new parents did their best to make the two feel at home. When they first moved into their room, Mary Ball Washington suggested that he and Aaron personalize it by setting down personal items or posters on the walls. Two months later, her suggestion was still left unacted upon; their suitcases were continued to sit, unpacked, under their beds.
Alexander shut his eyes and attempted to sleep in the unfamiliar bed.
About two weeks passed. Despite all the bleak and washed-out days, John Laurens could not help but appreciate the beauty of Washington State on his walks to and from the school. True, every day seemed to be on the verge of a storm, but he was used to that weather in England. It was when the clouds finally parted did the similarities between Washington and England end. John reveled at the sight of the street nearly glowing from the reflected sun on the wet concrete; at the view of Mt. Rainier and the Cascades in the distance; at how his new friend Alexander looked so happy when the sun came out.
Said friend greeted John with a shaky smile one morning. “Glad the rain finally stopped today,” he stated, quivering slightly. He had a band-aid on his thumb, and was currently fiddling with the wrapping as they walked side-by-side to their first period together.
John voiced his agreement and really looked at Alexander for the first time. His friend’s short hair was damp from the rain, and his eyes seemed to recede back into his skull. The expression he held was just as stormy as the weather had been the previous night. In short, Alexander looked terrible. “You feelin okay, man?” John asked as they entered the school’s main building.
Alexander stifled a yawn and replied quietly, “Just a long night.”
The two entered their class and sat near the back of the room. Since the first day they had met, John and Alexander steadily became closer. They tried to sit near one another in each of their classes. In doing so, John noticed some patterns about his friend. Alexander was quite literally nonstop. He took notes furiously, his handwriting almost illegible at times. Even when he wasn’t writing, he was constantly moving; constantly doing something with his hands. Sometimes it was scratching the yellow primer off his pencil; sometimes picking at his skin on his fingers or lip; today it was fiddling with his cloth band-aid on his thumb. It was not unusual for Alexander to shoot his hand up in the air to answer something, correct the teacher, or ask a question well beyond the class’s coursework.
John, on the other hand, was only able to keep himself awake by absentmindedly doodling over his notes. He would try to doodle in a large range of subject matter, but since moving to Mt. Vernon, he started to show favoritism toward the native birds and plants around him. The daily practice greatly improved his artistic skill. Recently, he began to sketch the people around him. Sometimes he tried to capture the likeness of students sitting directly in front of him, or of the teacher talking to act like he was actually paying attention to the lecture. However, more often than not, he would draw Alexander. The boy had so many unique features that were almost impossible for John to mimic on paper. He began to notice the way Alexander’s eyebrows raised when he laughed, how his eyes nearly glared when in seriousness, and how his lips draped over his teeth when he was concentrating. Alexander’s curved nose, John could get alright, but his eyes – those dark expanses – carried so much weight that he could never quite capture the depth they held.
A crumpled piece of paper collided with John’s head, snapping him out of his reflective state. Startled, he unfolded the note and read it quickly with a frown. Going to draw more of your boyfriend today? it read. John turned around and scowled at the sender: some kid named Sam Seabury, who looked dreadfully similar to a weasel. Whenever John would draw Alexander in class, he would angle his paper away so his friend would not see. Unfortunately, this placed his work right in Seabury’s line of sight, who sat diagonally behind him. The boy (intolerable prick, more like, John grimaced) noticed that John’s subject matter was mostly male, and made it his goal to torment John with this knowledge.
John felt a burst of indignation rise at Seabury’s snide face, but managed to quell the fire by turning around once he began to mouth something undoubtedly inappropriate. He briefly considered drawing girls with huge breasts to appease Seabury’s mocking, but quickly discarded the notion. As the teacher began to lecture, John picked up pencil and tried to capture the intent expression Alexander displayed today.
The day bore on normally as John continued to amass his doodles. The bell for lunch rang, and he claimed a table for himself and Alexander. Sometimes Aaron Burr would join them, but John noted that he tended to sit with their older brother George more often. He set his bag and notebook down on the table to save the spot before getting in line for food.
When he got back, however, he noticed that his notebook had been moved slightly; Seabury was also suspiciously close. The hint of red that peeked out under the notebook’s cover made John open it.
“What. The actual fuck?!” John whipped around and shoved the page at Seabury’s face accusingly. The page used to be one of John’s many sketches of Alexander – probably one of John’s favorite sketches of his friend because he finally began to capture his likeness. Now, the sketch was ruined with the vandalism of the thick, red sharpie reading FAG! across the page. Seabury sneered at John and tried to move past him, but John blocked his path. “Seabury. Why the Hell would you do this.”
The other boy rolled his eyes. “Just telling it like it is,” he answered coolly. John cheeks grew red with anger as he continued. “Oh, you disagree? You must admit it is a little weird. Every day I’m forced to watch you stare so…dreamily at him! It’s disgusting, that’s what.” John clenched and unclenched his hands. A few people glanced in their direction as Seabury’s voice grew louder. “Y’know, there’s a reason why homosexuality is a sin in the Bible. Why DOMA exists.”
John tried to keep his voice low. “Then the Bible is wrong. DOMA is wrong.”
“Oh! Hear ye! Hear ye!” Seabury mocked for dramatic effect. A large number of students in the cafeteria were now attentively watching the drama, drawn in by Seabury’s loud announcement. “Our very own John Laurens thinks he knows better – nay; IS better – than the Gospel of God AND federal jurisdiction! Johnny, care to explain your opinion on the matter?”
“Oh my God, tear this dude apart,” John heard someone say at a nearby table. Gladly, he thought before stepping forward to sock Seabury in the mouth. He halted, however, at the hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw Alexander stepping up beside him.
Alexander had been walking to the cafeteria with Aaron when he heard the commotion. Seeing that John was involved, he quickly rushed to his classmate’s side. Now, Seabury was grinning eagerly at his arrival. “Great! Your boyfriend is here to add his take on the matter.” Alexander didn’t flinch at the label, but John flushed a bright red. “Alex, please enlighten us how wrong John is.” At Alexander’s still confused expression, Seabury rolled his eyes. “Leviticus 20:13,” he cited. “’If a man lies with a man as one lies with a woman, both of them have done what is detestable.’ How could the Bible be any clearer? Homosexuality is a sin,” he jabbed a finger at John.
Alexander calmly stepped between them and lowered Seabury’s hand. “You’re using the Bible with your argument?” This is gonna be too easy. "I’m sure you’ve enjoyed some pork or maybe some shrimp in your life. Also in Leviticus, 11:7: ‘And the pig, though it has a split hoof completely divided, does not chew the cud; it is unclean for you.’ And in Leviticus 11:10, ‘All creatures in the seas that do not have fins or scales…you are to detest.’ The very same book in the Bible of which you are so adamant about following also lists these rules that you may break in your diet alone. Let’s not forget to mention Exodus 21:15 ‘Anyone who attacks his father or mother must be put to death’ or even Exodus 31:14 ‘…whoever does any work on that day (the Sabbath) must be cut off from his people’. Honestly, if you’re going to follow the rules of the Bible, at least be faithful to all of them!”
Seabury attempted to interject, but Alexander cut him off. “One more thing: did you notice that all these rules were in the Old Testament? To Christians, those are considered the old law. Did you just forget the New Testament; y’know, that whole thing of Jesus coming down and saving everyone from their own sin? Jeremiah 31:31-34 describes the new covenant of Jesus replacing the old. I’m sorry, but did Jesus fucking stutter when he told people to love their neighbor as themselves –”
“Alexander, please!” Aaron pleaded behind him. Talk less! his expression urged.
“Burr, I’d rather be divisive than indecisive,” he directed at Aaron before whipping back to Seabury, who had tried distancing himself from Alexander’s tirade. “Let’s drop the niceties.”
“E-even so,” Seabury spluttered in response. “The majority of elected officials agree that homosexuality is wrong. Just look at the Defense of Marriage Act, and the court rulings of Bowers v. Harwick – ”
“Bowers v. Harwick was overruled in 2003 by Lawrence v. Texas!” Alexander shot back. “People in charge realized ‘Hey! Maybe all these anti-sodomy laws maybe are a violation of our right of privacy and right to just be human.’ And some of those ‘elected officials’ are actually starting to change their mind as well. It’s 2010 – fourteen states, including fuckin Iowa, have legalized same-sex unions! It’s ridiculous that people have to travel to another state – or even another country – to legally marry someone they love; and if they return to a state that bans their marriage, they are in fact not bonded in the face of the law. Honestly, the entire sy--”
“A-HEM.” Both of them turned to the source of the voice: an adult, presumably a teacher, who Alexander didn’t recognize. From his haughty expression and locked back, he gave the impression that he would be much more natural with a crown and scepter accompanying him.
Alexander stiffly stepped away from Seabury, just now realizing how in-his-face he had gotten, and how many heads were now turned watching their shouting match. With a final huff, Seabury pivoted and walked away angrily. The adult, too, departed and much of the normal cafeteria noise resumed. The young woman Alexander had helped his first day could be seen slightly away from the tables, clapping after the confrontation ended. Still slightly shaking, Alexander sat down and Aaron rushed over to scold him.
“Why didn’t you stop, Alexander?! Don’t you know that was Principal Geor – ”
“Stop trying to suppress me,” he snapped. “If you stand for nothing, Burr, what’ll you fall for?”
Aaron opened his mouth to object but both were distracted by the people’s increasing volume at the table beside them. “Ooh, who are you?” “Who is this kid??” they made out. “Kid, come here,” they directed Alexander once he looked over. Mouth a thin line, Aaron went back to his table with George, Nathan, and Henry while Alexander joined the two boys. John, who had watched the entire thing in utter astonishment finally sat down beside Alexander.
The two boys were both black and had wide eyes marveling Alexander. One had big square glasses and a large amount of dark curly hair tied into a poofy ponytail. The other boy was shorter and had a dark blue beanie in his hand. “Kid, that was sure something,” the latter laughed. He looked over at his friend. “Amazing, wouldn’t you say?”
“Oui, oui, amazing,” the other boy agreed with a huge grin, a French accent punctuating his words. “We have known Seabury since seventh year, et he is…”
“An absolute dick,” the first boy offered.
“Oui, total,” the other laughed.
“This is the first time he’d been completely beaT DOWN though!” Alexander couldn’t help chuckling at the boy’s enthusiasm and began to relax a bit. “Hercules, by the way,” he said, extending a hand toward Alexander and John. “This is Marie– ”
“J’amapelle Lafayette!” the other boy interrupted, grabbing their hands before Hercules had a chance to. “Please, call me Lafayette.”
Alexander shook hands with the other students gladly and introduced himself. John, who was still clutching his notebook to himself, shyly completed his introduction and sunk into a reserved state that lasted the rest of the day.
Once the last bell of the day rung, Alexander and John were left to wander the empty campus together. Aaron and George both made the mock trial team, and now had meetings after school almost every day in the week. John had agreed to wait with Alexander for the club meeting to finish. Usually, they would just walk around and talk about whatever came to mind, but that day, there had been 20 minutes of walking so far, and neither boys said anything.
Finally, the awkward silence became too much for John to bear. “Alexander…I just wanted to say thanks. For what you did today with Seabury. It was amazing to watch,” he let out a fake laugh.
Alexander turned to smile at his classmate. “It was nothing; I always like to knock jerks on pedestals back to their right level.” He expected at least a chuckle to come from John in response, but received only a half-hearted shrug instead, his eyes still downcast.
A few more minutes of silence. “I’m…I’m not, by the way,” John said quietly.
“…You’re not what?”
“What Seabury said I was.”
“…. …. What did he say you were?”
John stopped walking and turned to his friend incredulously. “The whole reason we started fighting! Seabury, he…” John opened his notebook angrily and shoved the vandalized paper to Alexander. “He called me a fag!”
Alexander took the paper and carefully examined it, his eyebrows angling up in concern. “He’s more of a prick than I anticipated,” he said quietly. “But…of course you’re not a fag,” John felt an instinctive flash of defensiveness. “I mean, I’m going to assume fag is short for faggot, which is just a bundle of sticks. And you, my dear Laurens, are not a bundle of sticks,” he looked up from the paper and John, despite himself, laughed at Alexander’s proud concluding expression, as if his roundabout thinking was the correct answer.
“No, Alexander, he’s accusing me of being gay!” John spat out the word. “And-and I’m not!!”
“Well, ‘accusing’ makes it sound as if being gay is bad,” Alexander noted, still examining the paper. John’s face flushed. “And it’s not bad. It’d be absolutely fine if you, or anyone else were. Why do you think Seabury thinks you are gay?”
“I don’t know!” John huffed. “I mean…I do wear nicer, maybe more stylish, clothes. But that’s just because we had to in England y’know, for our classes and stuff? And, yeah, I probably smell more girly than the other guys here, but that’s only because I have a couple sisters, right? They have a lot of perfume and other girly stuff. E-even my father,” he brought his fingers up to the edge of his cut hairline. “He said that when my hair got too long, it made me look like a ‘poof’. And then there’s my drawing – ” he indicated toward the paper. “He probably thinks it’s really gay of me to be into art, y’know??”
For the first time, Alexander saw John’s defensive and panicked expression. He gave him a reassuring look. “All those things…they don’t define your sexuality. Only you have the power to do that,” he handed John back the paper. “Your art is honestly pretty great. I’m sorry Seabury had to ruin something so beautiful.”
John felt himself blush immensely at Alexander’s words and expression. His eyes – once so clouded and distant at the beginning of the day – were now pinpointed on him; focused as if he were the most important thing in the world. John felt pleasantly lost in those dark expanses and struggled to break free. He started to reach for Alexander’s neck, but grabbed his shoulder instead in gratitude. “Thank you,” he smiled; the talk from his friend was the perfect thing he needed right now.
Alexander received a text that Aaron and George were done. “You know that that sketch on the paper was you, right?” John confessed as they walked back to the school building.
“I suspected it,” Alexander smiled. “I thought I recognized my nose.”
John laughed easier now. “The curve was a little hard to copy,” he booped Alexander’s nose for emphasis, which Alexander protested against before chuckling himself.
“Well…now that Seabury messed up a perfectly good rendition of me,” Alexander flipped his nonexistent long hair. “Would you need another chance to draw me?”
John attempted to hide his excitement. “Y-yeah! That would be perfect! We’re actually going to start a portraiture unit in my art class soon, so this is great timing. Here, let me give you my number so we can arrange something.” The two exchanged phone numbers, and then parted to go home. John looked back at George’s car disappearing from view, and couldn’t help but notice the beauty around him opening up after the rain.
The first quarter of the school year came and went. Alexander and Aaron felt odd to still be in the same place with the same people for so long. It was usually that time in the year they had to move to another location, yet here they still were. George seemed much more at ease around them, though Alexander still felt pangs of annoyance whenever he slipped into his paternal taming-a-wild-animal attitude around them.
For the most part, other students and teachers had accepted Aaron as one of their own; his patient and neutral attitude bode well with most everyone. He was quite proud to have been selected as the leading lawyer in the school’s Mock Trial Club. Alexander, on the other hand, found it hard to extinguish his fiery and polarizable passion. He thoroughly alienated almost all the students – and even teachers – he came into contact with. Only John, Lafayette, and Hercules seemed to stick around for the pure entertainment of watching him work and rant.
Despite all the notes Alexander furiously took in his classes, he rarely turned anything in. He simply didn’t see the point of doing so…until the Washingtons received a notification from the school that he was failing almost all his classes. His foster parents gave him a stern lecturing that evening, of which Burr compounded upon by telling him to “think past tomorrow". Even if only for others’ sake, Alexander finally started working to get his grades up. That work, however, generally included that Alexander procrastinate completing all the assignments he saw as pointless until the last moment in a writing frenzy. In those times, he wrote like he was running out of time. Alexander devoted all the time open from procrastination to writing in his notebook about things he actually cared about, and spending time with John.
Alexander was indeed serious about John drawing his portrait. A couple days after making the suggestion, John invited him to his house, which was apparently only a few minutes walking from their school. After much reassurance that Aaron would be absolutely fine under the watch of George, Alexander finally acquiesced to John’s invitation.
John’s house was a little more on the wealthy side. It had two stories, and a nicely cut lawn out front. Alexander gawked at the furnishings in the interior of the house once John opened the door. Everything was sleek and unique; purposefully placed and obsessively cleaned. It was hard to imagine that John had three younger siblings living with him in such a pristine place. With such a large family, however, the house was surprisingly cold and almost unwelcoming. Then again, John was with him, which seemed to make up for the museum-like quality the house displayed.
As they entered the main hall, the two boys took off their shoes and placed them on a rack. John dropped his house keys inside a ceramic bowl next to a larger dish. Eight smooth, polished stones laid in the basin, surrounding one large piece of granite. John rested his fingers gently on the large rock as if he were cradling a face for a few seconds, then continued his way through the hall. Alexander wordlessly followed him.
John’s bedroom, at least, seemed to have some personality. Like his hair, the items in the room were all over the place, but at least had the effort of being contained. The majority of the clutter rested on the desk in one corner of the room. Alexander sifted through the half-done sketches and completed watercolor pieces that were lain there.
“This one’s good…ooh, this one too. This one – no, the other one’s better. John, you’ve got some fuckin talent for nature; are you sure you want to try people?” Alexander voiced his opinion with a bluntness and loudness that bounced around the cold house and warmed John.
Alexander talked incessantly – that was a fact John learned very quickly. But in his straightforward and honest attitude, John felt comfort in his speech; in the fact that he did not need to dwell too much on his own issues to offer commentary upon if Alexander was monopolizing their time by talking. In this way, John could listen to Alexander ramble on about absolutely nothing for hours.
Even with the goal of drawing Alexander’s portrait, the boys kept getting off-topic. Finally, John resorted to simply sketching Alexander while he talked and moved around. The “portraits” were much like the doodles John practiced in class, but somehow messier because of Alexander’s increased mobility.
Neither boy seemed to mind the off-topic and eccentric conversations they eventually landed upon. John cherished the times he could listen to Alexander, and Alexander felt comfort in John’s quiet and nonjudgmental listening.
As the year progressed, so did the severity of the weather. Alexander could handle the frequent rainy days the Pacific Northwest exhibited. The thunder and lightning storms, however, were another story. Those storms were usually unleashed in the evening, which meant that Alexander could lock himself in the Washingtons’ bathroom and do whatever it took to not scream out in fear and anxiety.
The sound of the interminable rain drumming on the roof was an all too familiar beat Alexander knew to be part of the song of destruction. Every storm, he nervously awaited the chorus of horrendous shrieks and splitting wood that accompanied the ensemble of thunder claps and lightning strikes. Yet, every storm so far lacked the expected orchestration of destruction, leaving Alexander to come out of the bathroom with a tear-stained face and more than often, bloody lips and hands.
“Another storm is expected tonight,” Hercules announced one day at lunch. Alexander’s body stiffened at the words. “Supposed to be pretty bad, too,” he went on, bringing out the news report on his phone. “Looks like flooding season has begun.”
“It…it floods here?” Alexander asked nervously.
“Oui, Mt. Vernon is prone to it,” Lafayette answered. “Usually after the snow melts, or,” he indicated toward Hercules’s phone. “After a big storm.” Finally, he noticed Alexander’s panicked expression. “Oh! But do not be afraid! People come together to build a wall of sandbags during this time. Et we are inland, so do not be afraid,” Alexander tried to reciprocate Lafayette’s reassuring smile he gave now. “Ah…speaking of, does anyone have any extra boots for rain? My brother lost his.”
“I think I do,” John piped in. “You can see if they’ll work after school today. We can walk to my house pretty easily from here. Alexander, do you want to come, too?”
Alexander tried to erase the uneasiness in his face before meeting John’s eyes. He hardly needed an excuse to spend time with John; the boy made nearly perfect company for him, and he found himself increasingly comfortable in his presence. Perhaps being with him at this time would be a good distraction from the imminent danger of the storm. “Sure,” he answered nonchalantly.
As if on cue, the rain began to come down after school. John, Alexander, and Lafayette barely made it to the house before the downpour began. Alexander was left to sit motionless on a couch while Lafayette and John went off to search for boots. The rain outside pounded into a beat of fear, and Alexander struggled to give all his attention to a single speck on the floor while carefully drawing his shaky breaths in and out. Hours seemed to pass before the two boys finally came back up, boots in tow.
Shit, this was a mistake. I need to go somewhere I can deal with this. Alone. This was a mistake. Alexander cursed to himself as he trailed behind Lafayette to the door. He had been stupid to believe that John, though he viewed him as someone who took away all his problems, was someone who could magically fix his instilled fear of storms. John finally noticed his friend’s uncharacteristic silence and distant stare once he reached the door. Lafayette opened the door for them to leave, but a sudden crack of thunder made Alexander suck in his breath and fall backwards.
Lafayette instinctively snickered at his friend’s response, but ceased immediately when Alexander had not yet gotten back up. “Are you feeling well, mon amie?”
“I’m fine; I’m fine,” Alexander answered too quickly. He tried to stand back up, but his hand was too shaky to support himself.
“Yo, I…I think he’s having a panic attack,” John’s voice sounded in the distance. Alexander struggled to refocus his vision. Once he did, he realized that he had somehow been transported to John’s bed. The bedroom walls he had grown accustomed to over the past few months seemed claustrophobic now. He clutched the comforter under him and heard Lafayette’s voice somewhere in the room.
“George! Oui, Alexander is with us; we are in John’s house. Alexander, he seems to be having a bad, ah, reaction to the storm. Is…” a long pause. “Oh! Aaron says this is, ah, ‘normal’,” he told John, sounding closer. Where is John? The thought flit through Alexander’s mind. Oh, he’s right beside me, he realized his right hand was now gripping John’s hand rather than the blanket. “Et, is there anything we can do...oh. Just…just wait for it to pass?” Lafayette uncertainly looked over at the pale and quivering mess that was Alexander. “…okay. Merci, okay. Good luck to you,” Lafayette hung up and came over. “George et Aaron are going to help with the wall of sandbags,” he relayed to John. “Aaron said that Alexander has bad reactions to storms. He just told us to, ah…wait it out.”
John’s brow furrowed. “This is not something we can just wait to pass!” he cried out incredulously, looking at his friend. Alexander had shut his eyes and bit his now-bleeding lip. Nothing seemed to drown out the torrential downpour outside.
Lafayette paced the room nervously. John tried to stroke his friend’s hand comfortingly, but to no avail. Alexander was as fretful as ever. Tears began to fall freely from his closed eyes.
Suddenly, Lafayette stopped. “Ah!” John turned to face him, urging him to quickly continue. “When me et my brother were nervous, our mother did an exercise with us. She would count; we would repeat it back. It focused us on one simple activity, et soon, we were nervous no longer!” He beamed at John. “Let us try counting with Alexander.”
John turned back to look at Alexander. It was worth a shot. He used his free hand to stroke Alexander’s face to get him to open his eyes. Brushing the tears away, Alexander’s vision began to clear but the raging storm blocked out John’s words to him. All he could see was John’s face painted with concern. His eyes intently stared back at him, and Alexander found the rest of the room blurred out; the only clear thing existing was John. He did everything he could to focus on him. For the first time, Alexander noticed just how many freckles John possessed on his face. He followed the constellation-like pattern as they curved around his cheeks and popped individually on his brow. One curly strand of hair flopped over his forehead. His normally jovial eyes were now a mix of concern and concentration. He observed the small muscles on his jaw reflexing and finally registered his lips moving; the sound that was coming out. Finally, his hearing shifted from the steady beat of the rain to whatever was being said.
“Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf,” a voice said in the distance.
“Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf,” John repeated a bit slower.
“Good. Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf,”
“Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf,” John repeated again. Alexander was mesmerized by the movement of his mouth forming the foreign words. “Alexander…” he looked back up into John’s eyes at the familiar sound of his name. “Repeat after us,” he said softly.
“Sept, huit, neuf.”
“Sept, huit, neuf.”
“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine,” he and Lafayette said together. Alexander struggled through his repetition, the muscles in his jaw and tongue readjusting after the induced restraint.
“Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf,” John said slowly and Alexander tried his best to reciprocate the foreign sounds. He felt himself rising to sit after each repetition. John sent Lafayette to get a glass of water and more blankets for Alexander.
Soon, Alexander sat face to face with John, their close proximity almost making him go cross-eyed as he continued to intently focus on the other boy. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine……Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf,” he mumbled quietly as John’s face began to unwind into an expression of relief. Alexander absent-mindedly traced his fingers on all the features of John’s face he had concentrated so greatly on during the exercise.
He moved his thumb over John’s freckles like a game of connect-the-dots, and tried to move the one loose curl away from John’s face. His fingers trailed down his face, following the curves and ridges until they met John’s lips, which were moving to the beat of the counting. They weren’t moving anymore, however. In fact, Alexander came to realize they hadn’t been moving for a while. “…” He blinked out of his concentrated daze and found for the first time he had gotten so close that his own mouth made contact with John’s. John’s shocked eyes matched his, and he slowly pulled away.
“That…I…I’m sorry,” Alexander stuttered out, his face flushing red. After a few moments, he registered that John was still comfortingly running his thumb against the hands that they held. Looking up, he realized that John looked just as flustered as he felt, but not mad. He stared back, eyes wide with a mix of emotions, and opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Lafayette reentering the room.
Alexander began shaking again as thunder rumbled far away, and Lafayette draped a blanket over his shoulders. “Mon amie, we are glad you are out of your reaction!” he danced around, rejoicing.
Alexander tried to give a smile, but the reminder of the severity of the storm caused his heart rate to increase. Before any serious anxiety settled in again, John wrapped his arms around his middle, drawing him closer to his chest. “Just focus. Focus on me,” he said softly into the top of his head.
Gulping down his rising nervousness, Alexander followed John’s instructions. Rather than letting the rain rattle inside his mind, he instead let himself get lost in the enveloping warmth of John’s arms and chest. He matched the rate of his breathing to John’s, and sunk deeper into his embrace. Pulling the blanket tighter, Alexander realized for the first time in many years, he finally felt safe.
Though there were several more rough downpours that year, Alexander never had such a severe panic attack again. That was because whenever Alexander felt his anxiety rising, he would actively find a way to be with John until the storm passed. When a storm occurred late at night, Aaron could hear Alexander muttering, “Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf…..sept, huit, neuf...sept, huit, neuf……one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight nine,” in an almost sing-song voice over the phone.
Alexander was most at ease, however, when he was able to physically be in John’s presence during a nasty storm. In those times, John would wrap him up in one of his blankets and in his arms. He would coax him to talk through the panic, and in doing so, Alexander was able to stay in the present. When he was with John, he stopped being plagued by flashbacks of the hurricane. If Alexander was still being haunted by visions of his past, John would often kiss different parts of Alexander’s face. The act served as a pleasant reminder that Alexander was not trapped in the eye of a hurricane. Rather, he was warm; he was safe; and he was protected by John.
Their freshman year soon came to a close. Aaron and Alexander ended their first year of high school with decent grades, something that the Washingtons celebrated. It was the first year of school either boy had completely participated in since being in the foster care system. June 2011 marked their one-year anniversary in the Washington’s household.
Reflecting back on the year, Alexander couldn’t help thinking fondly of all the people he had encountered. The Washingtons, who welcomed him and Aaron with open arms, continued to treat them as family members. Aaron understandably was still a bit apprehensive around their adoptive father, but was steadily becoming more at ease around him and others. George offered a never-ending supply of brotherly support, which became almost paternalistic at times. Alexander at last felt comfortable using the label “friends” for Lafayette and Hercules. Even though their humor could be crude, he felt completely accepted when he was with them. John, however, belonged to an entirely new level above “friend”, though Alexander couldn’t quite find the correct label yet. It was odd; Alexander wrote for hours daily; he had a word for everything. Yet, the perfect description that would fit John Laurens escaped him.
Fortunately, he would have more time to think of the perfect word to describe John. To much of his delight, Alexander discovered that all his friends would continue attending the same school next year, and he was able to join them once again.
Satisfied for the time being, Alexander looked around his and Aaron’s shared bedroom. The walls – though plain – seemed so familiar and comfortable after the year he spent in them. The room actually began to feel like home. Smiling slightly, he pulled his suitcase out from under his bed and finally began to unpack.
“Love doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints...”