Hamilton One Shots!!

Chapters of a thing I'm probably not going to finish 2

If anyone wants to write more to any of these and publish me than just lmk but I'm probably not gonna finish these unless there's a freak accident

~Frances~

My dad is forcing me to go to this camp. I don’t want to go, nor do I want to be flying hundreds of miles away from my depressed man of a father. I’m worried about him. He says that this weekend without me will be ‘good for him’, or whatever, but I don’t believe him. Hamiltons have been known to convince themselves that everything is fine when we’re really dying inside. That’s probably why my father decided it would be a great idea to send me to this camp in central Maine for the weekend.

Both him and I are staring at the gate in JFK. it looms in front of us like a large shadow. He’s nervous, I can tell. Although he’s a paranoid weirdo, he’s always been with me. That’s more than I can say for my other father.

“Ok, Franny, are you ready? Is your leg feeling ok?” He says, turning in front of me. We both look down at the small sliver of metal peeking out from one leg of my sweatpants.

I bite the inside of my lip. I hate when he brings up my leg. “It’s fine, dad. Nothing hurts.”

“Are you sure?” He asks worriedly, holding onto my hand. He’s about as tall as me, and I always like to tease him for it. I plaster a smile on my face and answer.

“Yes, dad, I’m fine,” I insist. He lets out a breath and pulls me in for a hug. I have to admit, his hugs are the best. “Are you going to be ok?”

“Monkey, you should not be worrying about me, you’re a teenager. I’ll be perfectly fine. You’ll see me on Monday. Call me if anything happens ok? I’ll be on the next flight to Maine-”

“Dad,” I grumble, putting my hand on his shoulders. “I will survive.” I bend over to pick up my duffel bag from the floor and I hear a whistle behind me. My mouth opens in shock and I swivel around, my middle finger high in the air.

“Fuck you, assholes!” I yell to the backs of two teenagers walking past the terminal. They laugh and run away, and I turn back to my dad. He looks like he’s about to go all lawyer-dad on their sorry butts.

“Dad, leave it.” I say. He looks like he’s about to say something that’ll probably get him banned from the airport, but I give him a look and he stops.

“I swear to god, kids these days…” He sighs, bringing a hand down his face.

Gate 7 is now open for priority boarding.

"Well I gotta go now, dad. I love you." I hug him and quickly rush to the line with my bags to make sure I get a good seat. He waves to me and I wave back. I have a feeling that as soon as I board, he's going to scout out those kids. That's just who he is.

I've always felt awkward on planes. The seats are so close together, and sadly my father and I don't have the financial stability to pay for first class seating. There's babies screaming because of the pressure changes and adults really relishing in the free alcohol supplied on this trip. I plug my headphones in and let the music flood my ears. Nothing is enough to drown out the sounds of the plane, but it's the best I can do. People are so loud, all of the time.

The plane's tires finally retract in the air and I take a picture of the diagonal view outside the window of the aisle I'm sitting in. I send it to my dad with the caption 'taking off!'. My dad responds with a gif of a baby holding a thumbs up and I can't resist my chuckle. He's hilarious.

I brush my bangs out of my eyes and look down at my phone, only for my bangs to fall back into my face. Bangs may look cute, but they are really annoying when you're trying to look down.