In A New Life [Lams]

Chapter 1: Am I Ready?

Today.  Today is the day where I finally start school in New York. I moved here from the Caribbean a couple years ago to live with my cousin after my mom died, I went out one day to go to the store, and when I came back, my cousin had committed suicide. There was a small funeral, me and a few of my cousin's friends. I've been living alone for three months now and pay the bills myself and whatnot, making it seem like an adult is with me because if the cops figure out I'm alone, they'll take me to an orphanage and I want to try to live as a normal kid for once.

I was scrambling around my room, trying to make sure I had everything before I left, headed to my school, Crimson Jay High School.  Once I was certain I had everything, I ran out my door, grabbed my bike, and tried to make my way downtown to get there in time before school started at 7:15 am.

**

Once I got there, I locked my bike in the bike rails and ran in line for the main office to find out my schedule. I stood there awkwardly, my hands jammed into the pocket of my sweatshirt and my music playing to drown out all of the other students who do know each other seeing them again for the first time since middle school.

I was in line behind a couple of guys, who were goofing around and pushing each other.  I moved over a little bit, so I wouldn't get in their way and they wouldn't knock me over and start a domino effect.  Unfortunately, there wasn't much room behind me to move, so it was only a very little bit that I could and they still knocked into me a little bit.

One of them, the one with big, bushy hair knocked into me, and since I wasn't paying attention and I'm smaller, I fell down, landing on the girl behind me's feet.  She looked at me annoyed, and I apologized, standing up.  The guy who bumped into me was yelling, "Hercules!" in a thick French accent, hitting his arm, before turning to me and apologizing.  "I am so sorry, mon amie, Hercules, pushed me into you. It wasn't intentional, I promise!" 

"It's alright.  Accidents happen, no need to fret," I said at a speaking level a little lower than average. 

"What's your name? I'm Guilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette, but I prefer Lafayette, if you don't mind," the French guy I now know as Lafayette said, turning to me once again.  I wasn't really in the mood for making friends at the moment, but I figured since Lafayette was willing to try, I guess I would be too.

"Uh, Alexander Hamilton.  As long as you don't call me Alex, I guess I'm okay with whatever you call me," I responded, still quiet, but not as quiet as my first encounter with Lafayette was.

"Enchanté, Hamilton," Lafayette said.  I had to make a mental note that he spoke half French, half English sometimes.  I mean, I spoke French, but I just figured it would be a better thing to remember.  He then called to his group of friends and introduced us. "This is Alexander Hamilton and as long as you don't call him Alex, he says he's okay. Alexander, this is John Laurens, but would like to be referred to as Laurens," Lafayette said, pointing at a guy with longer hair, that was wavy, but not bushy or curly like Lafayette's hair. "And this, as you probably heard, is Hercules Mulligan. He doesn't really care what you call him either," Lafayette pointed to a chubbier, darker skinned guy than Lafayette or Laurens.  I nodded, giving both of them a shy wave.

"So, Hamilton, what grade are you going into?" Laurens questioned. 

"I'm in ninth grade, what about the rest of you?" I asked, starting to feel more comfortable with them as the minutes went on.

"I'm also in ninth," Laurens fist bumped me for that, "but we also have Thomas Jefferson in our grade. He's an annoying prick who looks like Laf and claims Lafayette stole his style, and so it James Madison.  Madison's alright, Not bad like Jefferson, but annoying because he follows Jefferson around like a lost little puppy and acts like an obedient servant to him.  However, Lafayette and Hercules are in their sophomore year, but our school mixes freshmen, sophomores, and juniors for lunch. Seniors get their own lunches," explained Laurens.  I nodded, not exactly sure how to respond, but happy I was getting the information.