Dear, Hamilton

We Egg a Car

I had always felt like I belonged in another century. I was too old fashioned for the twenty-first century.

I was keen on having the boys ask the girls out, not vice versa, reading actual paperback books (I'm an avid reader), writing handwritten letters, and keeping a journal.

All things that were rather popular during, let's say, the eighteenth century, the century I should've been born in instead.

But nevertheless, here I am in the twenty-first century picking up my textbooks from the floor after some douchebag purposefully ran into me.

"Eliza?" someone asks in surprise upon seeing me stooped on the hallway floor gathering my many textbooks. "What happened?"

A second later, my best friend, Alia, drops beside me and helps me pick up my books. I brush a lock of dark brown hair over my shoulder as I sigh, "Some guy purposefully ran into me." I roll my eyes as I recount the "accident" in my head.

Alia hands me my books when we're both standing and replies glumly, "Boys." 

We both share knowing looks before we laugh, but mine is only half-hearted. Suddenly, Alia's face brightens as a broad smile blossoms on her face, my incident already out of her mind. "What are you doing tonight?" she asks excitedly, already knowing the answer.

"Nothing much. Just reading," I tell her, raising an eyebrow at her obvious excitement. "Why?" I ask, almost dreading her answer. She's an extrovert and likes going to parties and drinking, while I am an introvert who would rather stay at home on a Friday night and read.

She gives me a conspiratorial smile before leaning towards me and whispering, "Brian is having a party at his house. What do you say? You in?"

I wince to myself as I stoop down to pick up a stray piece of notes titled Alexander Hamilton: background and financial system that had been left on the floor, and I quickly stuff it into the back pocket of my jeans. Alia must've seen my wince because she links arms with me and begins tugging me down the hallway. 

"Come on!" she exclaims. "It will be fun!"

I resist the urge to groan. This is always how she got me sucked into her many plans.

It'll be fun! she said. Sureee.

"I really have some studying to do," I tell her, "I have a U.S. History test Monday." I try to make a sad face, but she narrows her eyes at me, seeing through my facade.

She smirks at me as she holds up a finger and says matter-of-factly, "One, U.S. History is your best class if not your favorite class, miss history buff. And two-" she holds up a second finger, "It's Friday night! You need to get out there and meet some people, especially boys." She gives me a wink at this.

I roll my eyes. I don't have time for boys. My life is filled with schoolwork and practicing golf. I'd played golf throughout high school, but had decided not to pursue it in college. But now-- playing for the golf team sounds fun and exciting. I can meet new friends, spend time outside... I just need to touch up on my golf skills. 

Golf is one of those sports where if you don't play everyday, you get rusty real quick. Since I haven't played golf in four months, I'm going to be a rusty mess. 

"Alia-" I begin, but she stops me with a ring- adorned finger.

"Perfect! I'll pick you up at seven!"

Before I can protest, she skips away, her blonde hair bouncing with each one of her steps. I look skyward and whisper to myself, "Why me?"

***