Kings College (Philidosia/Phildosia Fan Fiction)

Chapter 5

(The song has no relevance to Hamilton, but it's such a good song! And it's Christmas!)

We arrive at the house and I struggle to help Papa out of the carriage. He grins wildly at the house, looking at it like he's never seen it. I chuckle at his expression and open the door for us. After sitting him down on the couch, someone knocks on the door.

"I'll be right back." I tell him, then go to the front door.

A young man, maybe 13, with a bunch of freckles and a dot of red hair awkwardly bounces on the soles of his feet. He wears a blue mailman uniform, the words "William Quinn's First American Post Office" on his chest.

"Hello, is this the Burr residence?" He asks me.

"Yes, this is Theodosia Burr speaking."

"Ah, well, here is your mail. We deliver mail every Monday, starting today!" He squeaks, and I quickly realize where his eyes are.

I take the mail from him, thank him, close the door and pull my corset up. As I walk back to the living room, I shuffle through the various letters. Almost all are assigned to Papa, so I don't bother, but the bottom one makes me widen my eyes. I sit on the chair opposite of Papa, handing him his letters.

"What's that, General?" He questions.

"My reply." I gasp.

Tearing open the paper, giddy at the Kings College stamp, I slide the letter out neatly.

Dear Theodosia Burr Jr,

I appreciate you wanting to join such a wonderful and inspirational college such as Kings, but I'm afraid you've been quite ignorant.

At our college, we want only the best students. I'm afraid a woman couldn't fulfill our high expections. A Burr or not, you do not belong in my college.

Try learning how to cook, you'd make a much better wife.

Sincerely,
Headmaster Ryan Williams.

My nostrils flair as I stare at the paper in my hands. Anger boils, tears begin and before I know it I'm a mess. I angrily throw the letter at the floor, cradling my head in my hands. My dreams, my hopes, my passions all thrown to the curb over some dumb professor! What's worse is I can't control anything! I've been wanting to go to that college for years and here he denies me that privilege! After years of planning and sacrifice for my life ahead, I'm robbed of my only chance to start that journey. Tears drip down quicker than I can stop them, and my dad bends to read the letter.

"Awful," he murmurs.

"Don't," I hiccup. "Use the word awful, it's slang."

(Anyone get that reference? Anyone? She read the frickin' book earlier. No? Fine.)

He chuckles, rubbing my back.

"What do I do?" I sob, then I remember her loving eyes and smile. "I'm going to go visit Mama, is that alright?" I ask Papa, tears burning my eyes. I need guidance on how to cope.

I probably seem like a snob or overdramatic, but that college has been my goal since I was eight, and it's all crumbling. He nods, and I rush to collect my coat. The sweet relief of air floods my nostrils as I stroll through town. The people stare as I walk through, tears running down my cheeks, but I don't care. I quickly make it to the New York City Cementary, stumbling to her grave before collapsing in front of it. Waterfalls gush from my eyes, and I hold myself tight as I sob.