Kings College (Philidosia/Phildosia Fan Fiction)

Chapter 19

Staring my hands, holding a flimsy pink paper cup I seriously question any decision as to why I came here. People of all races, genders and mental compacities dancing in a beautiful house. The walls a beautiful royal blue, some horrific looking plant pots in the corner, forever looking like puke. People were dancing, drunk, grinding against one another, chugging or vomiting. You would think Anastasie, the owner of the house, would be furious. Instead, she's dancing it up with her husband John. Who, might I add, has some wonderful dancing skills.

I only came because I found the invitation for their 5th anniversary while cleaning and decided I should go. Besides, Philip wants me to get along with his friends. He's can't make it due to school, so I'll be the only one representing the Hamilton family. Oh gosh, that sounds so weird! >.<

Grasping the cup of lemonade, occasionally sipping, I find myself just staring amongst the group. I'm not a horrible dancer by any means, but would rather chat than live up the party. The awkwardness is uncanny, and I'm counting down the minutes until I can leave. I need to at least stay for two hours, then feign a cough to guarantee freedom.

Okay, on 1 hour and 50 minutes left.

Picking at the white rim of the cup, I just find myself awkwardly staring into nothing. Ahead of me, I notice a figure coming but show no sign of caring. In reality, I'm monitoring every move through my perfil (idk how to spell) vision. The figure comes closer, striding with much confidence in her walk. Looking away for a second, I take a deep breath and look up. A woman, was bending over. Her face was only a few inches from mine as she gave me a curious look. Then, after inspecting my shocked face, grins widely.

Sticking a hand out, she introduces herself. "The name's Frances Laurens, pleasure to meet ya."

Her beautiful British accent has mean flabbergasted, the words rolled off her tongue elegantly. Frances had a childish appearance to her. Freckles all of the face, like Philip but less, a plain figure but bright and curious blue eyes. Bright red straight locks tied in a high ponytail made me think of Anne of Green Gables. (I know she was created in the 20th century but let's get past that. I need analogies, people.)

Sliding my hand into her cold one, I smile. "Theodosia Burr Jr. Soon to be Hamilton."

Frick. Frick. Frick. Frick. H. E. Double hockey sticks, Frick. Why did I include that? Why did I include that? Why did I include that?

"Ah, so you are the poor soul Philip wound into his trap." Frances laughs, snorting. "Burr, eh?"

"Yes." I reply sheepishly, rubbing my arm as Frances seats herself next to me.

"I didn't think he'd go for a Burr. Sure, the boy likes to rebel against his father, but he really infuriated the man. Have you told your parents yet?" She leans casually against the wall, both arms behind her head, enjoying life.

"I, um, yes. W-we did. Mr Hamilton... wasn't pleased."

I remember him screaming horrible names, and Philip's anger towards the words.

"My father was, um, pissed to say the least." I mutter, Frances snorts again.

"Geez, how'd Eliza handle it?"

"Well. She likes me. So, um, how do you know the Hamilton's?" I question, taking the stress off myself.

Frances shrugs, pulling an apple from a pocket in her dress and biting hard. "Well, Pip and I have been best buds since about the third grade. Don't worry, Burr, I have no feelings for the man. He and I were in the same class for piano, and we constantly tried to outdo each other. Eventually I fell and broke my leg. He carried me to the doctor, stayed with me and we've been close since then. However, these past few years I was shipped off to England." She angrily bites the apple.