Adopted by Lin Manuel Miranda

She's

Lin swaddles me in his arms and starts the rudder of the pontoon boat. The Entire Original Broadway Cast of Hamilton had shambled back to the theater for the matinee, but Lin wanted to drive since he hadn't in a while. I am traumatized. I didn't know how much that much that baby meant to me until it disappeared. Begonia's cheek is smashed against one of the leather seats, disoriented. Moments ago, Jonathan was rescued from that torture chamber of the McDonald's play place. Lin was just resurrected. He's still getting accustomed to being alive. He says he feels like he's been dismembered, and that he's seeing hazy Hamilton logo-floaters in his swimming orbs. This pleased me, for some reason. It felt like something I did to him myself, with my Good King Wenceslas, with the divinity of my conception.

Lin whirrs the engine. His hand falls off the wheel and slaps onto his thigh. He looks scared.

Grofflepoff inquires, "Are you sure you don't want me to drive?" He hesitates. "Mr. Miranda?"

Lin waves him off with a flippant expression. "No worries, Johnny Boy."

It was a warm day. The concrete is moist. The sky seems to gape its jaws at me. Lin has one strong arm around my foot, one on the wheel. I feel safe. Jonathan looks on with disdain. He is jealous. Begonia reaches into her pocketbook and pulls out her zebra print nail file and begins sharpening her stilettos into vicious points. We are at peace. Storm clouds titter in the distance. This drive reminds me of my job at Baskin Robins, where I scooped ice cream into little blond cones and made small talk with Santa Anna, the slightly bearded waitress. He was like a mother to me. The only requirements were to wear heavy black robes, even in the Summer, and keep the candy bar stocked with chocolate sprinkles and coconut shavings. I never actually got to scoop ice cream for anybody, since nobody showed up. Joffrey didn't believe in school. He believed those teachers were from other places. Everyday when I arrived at work I had to chant in what I thought was pig Latin. Looking back, I'm not so sure. We read from books with letters that looked like pictures, so I thought I understood. The floor was concrete and the blinds were shut, except for when the tax man came. Then the windows were boarded. I didn't want to hide my love for the business. I wanted to show it to the world, but that wasn't allowed. He wouldn't let me.

Wait. I get a tightness in my chest. Was I culted?

Before I have time to think about that, I feel a clank, a bump, and hear someone yell something obscene in an obstreperous groan. What happened?

"No need to worry, Grammakins." Lin squeezes my toe. My concern must have shown. Jonathan back tucks out of the boat. Begonia's eyes shift from side to side. I can tell she's praying. Jonathan gets on his hands and knees to check the front of the boat. It was just fence. Begonia sighs audibly. Lin's hands grip the wheel with fear in his eyes, crestfallen. I lean over the boat and try to get a look at Groffino's umpapa, but he's already standing. Just another disappointment. Groffelopolis shouts to the gathering crowd, "Nothing to see, here." he hops into the boat. "We'll be on our way."

With Lin back on the road, I am disturbed. Sweat congregates on his temples. His mouth is open and I can see it-- a white layer of scum over his tongue, the remains of an undigested smoothie. I can smell it, too. He is concentrating, but he has a pinched look in his eyes. He looks like a benevolent dictator with a mouth full of pesticides.

I get a wave of sympathy and disgust whenever I look at him. His face seems wrong to look at, like a fish's anus or an old woman's saggy breast. I want to mold his face into a younger version of himself. With my hands. I stare out the bough of the pontoon boat, headed for a new whirl. In Lin's house I can be a new girl.

There is a bump, a harder one, this time. Begonia grabs the seat and starts crying like I've never seen anyone cry before. Her hands are under her butt, and she sucks in high pitched breaths through longer and longer intervals. She can hardly breathe through all the phlegm in her throat. Groffenshmirtz slithers out of the boat to get a good look. My chance is here. I lean over to get an eyeful of that Umpapa, but I'm shocked when I see a very familiar pair of winklepickers. Joffrey's winklepickers.