GEORGE HASN'T STOPPED pacing. He keeps pacing back and forth in front of his desk, occasionally glancing at me, occasionally huffing out a breath of frustration, occasionally pinching the bridge of his nose and then turning to face me and paces back and forth again. I sit at a random student's empty desk, pouting like a child and cross my small, thin arms over my chest. I narrow my eyes at George, watching him pace for the thousandth time already. He's mumbling something under his breath as he sneaks glances at me, huffing out frustrated breaths and pinching his nose again. I'm about to open my mouth to say something to break this unbearable silence, until George cuts me off. He finally stops pacing and fully turns to me, towering over me with a stern, disappointed look on his face, his arms crossed over his chest.
"I am very disappointed in you, Alexander," George says.
"Dad, I don't know what you heard but whatever it is, Jefferson started it!" I protest, slamming my hand flat on the desk.
George closes his eyes for a moment, clearly annoyed. He sighs long and slow through his nose while he pinches the bridge of his nose. He opens his eyes and leans against his desk, folding his arms over his chest as well and looking at me dead in the eye. I feel myself shrink involuntarily.
"I don't care who started it, Alexander," George snaps. "I'm still very disappointed in you."
I duck my head towards my chest, not meeting his eyes.
"This is ridiculous, Alexander!" George says, tossing his hands up in defeat. He runs a hand through his light auburn hair. "You're seventeen not a child! I...I shouldn't be having this conversation with you right now, son."
I wince and I bite my tongue to keep myself from saying, "I'm not your son." George sighs and crouches down to my level, resting his folded arms on my desk and locking blue-gray eyes with violet ones. He brushes back a loose strand of auburn hair behind my ear and smiles softly, tilting his head to one shoulder.
"I know this year has been rough for you..." George starts quietly. "With your brother gone in France for college. I know how close you two are. You two have a special brotherly bond."
I smile a little, nodding with agreement. "Oui, we do, Pa."
George smiles a little, laughing through his nose, then sighs, frowning as he looks back up at me again. "I'm still very disappointed in you, son."
Silence. I duck my head down again. George lifts my chin up so I can meet his eyes.
"What happened to you, Alexander," George says. "You used to be this...bright, bubbly, kindhearted kid now you're...I don't know...this isn't the Alexander I know."
I swallow. "I don't know either, Dad. It's...it's partially adjustment, you know? Adjusting to the school, dealing with Gil being in France. Part of it is, let's be honest here, anxiety, other is..."
"Is what, son?" George prompts.
I look back at him, shaking my head. "I don't know, Dad. I know there's a second part...I just...don't know what it is..."
George frowns, brushing back another strand of hair behind my ears. I look back up at him. "I'm sorry, Dad," I say. "I know I'm usually not like this...I just...I don't know what's going on with me. I think I'm going crazy." I try to laugh, try to lighten up the mood, but it comes out rather choked. I blink my eyes, frowning again and resting my head on my arms. A pause.
YOU ARE READING
Helpless (Book 1)
FanfictionSeventeen-year-old Alexander Hamilton should feel lucky. He should feel lucky that he survived the hurricane and the illness he and his mother had when he was twelve. He should feel lucky that he has a family now, an adoptive one at that. He doesn't...
