A Second Shot, A Second Try

Alexander Hamilton

Alexander Hamilton was a bastard, orphan, Caribbean immigrant, who never had the best luck with life. But it wasn't all bad at first.

He grew up on the island of St. Croix in Nevis, along with his older brother, James Jr. His father was a Scotsman, a man who had "fallen" from his aristocratic roots, by the name of James Hamilton. His mother, was a kind and beautiful woman, named Rachel Fuacette. They were weren't exactly rich, nor dirt poor, and they made do with what they had. They lived in a small, cozy house, a couple of yards away from the shoreline. Both of their parents worked decent jobs, while he and his brother went to the school nearby. Not saying that James wasn't doing his best -in fact he received higher grades than his classmates- but Alex was an overachiever compared to his brother. He earned high remarks for his scores, and praise from his teachers. And it was okay.

Until it wasn't.

When Alex was ten, his father suddenly left, without even a simple explanation whatsoever. Their mother, despite her sadness and grief, was determined to work extra hard to provide for her two children. She struggled to worked multiple jobs, ranging from being a clerk at a local store to a household cleaner. James Jr, after seeing his mother's struggle, dropped out of school and got a job to help his mother out with earning money; little Alexander on the other hand, continued his studies. When Alex was twelve, he and his mother contracted a severe case of pneumonia. With the money they had, they could only afford for one of the two's medication; Rachel didn't get the medication. James, determined get Alex the food he needed and to provide the payment for his education, worked twice as hard, seeing that none of their relatives were willing to take them in.

After awhile, things started to look up for the Hamilton brothers; both of them got adopted by the Stevens, a kind and generous family. Alex's astounding grades caught the attention of some higher-ups of the island, and they set up a scholarship for the boy. James Jr was also able to go back to school, and picked up where he left off.

But then the hurricane hit.

It was a living nightmare. Each drop of rain was like fire on your skin. Lightning flashed, and deafening thunder rattled the windows; screams and debris alike were carried by the howling wind. The water from the shoreline was continuously rising, the boats' ropes snapping and pulling against the strain of the unrelenting waves. Some people were able to find shelter, strong enough to keep them safe from the storm; others weren't as fortunate. And they were one of them.

They were standing on the rooftop of the house, desperate to get away from the raging tide. Unfortunately, the rooftop gave away when a boat smashed against the side of the house. All of them fell into the raging waters below. "Hold unto something! We'll find each other again!" yelled Mr Stevens over the wind.

Alex didn't see them again.

He woke up with a splitting headache, head heavily bandaged, with a social worker telling him that she'll be taking him to America.

So here he is now, at the age of fifteen, curled up on his cold plastic chair across the small, dark and cramped office of his social worker, Benjamin Franklin, in the NYC Social Services building. He could hear bits and segments of Mr Franklin's conversation on the phone, his voice laced with anger and frustration. Mr Franklin was an old, amiable man, who Alex considered as a friend. He and Alex met in the airport about a year ago, when Alex was fresh out of the Caribbean. He told Alex that he would be in charge of him, and that Alex was lucky to be given a second shot at life. Taking the fourteen year old to his foster family, Mr Franklin reminded him to be on his best behavior, and to call him when Alex needed to.