Alexander Hamilton was not going to fit in. He was sure of that.
His skin was too tan, his hair too dark, his eyes were strangely colored, and he was new. New kids never fit in, at least not in Alex's experience.
Even with his foster brother there to show him around, Alex was sure he would get lost in the long, winding halls of Jackson High School.
He sat down at his desk and started writing in his journal, trying to convey his thoughts onto paper.
Alex heard a knock on his door.
"It's George," came a voice through the door, clearly the distinct deep voice of Alex's foster father.
"Come in," Alex said, turning toward the door. George came in, nearly hitting his forehead on the doorframe. The tall man ducked at the last second and shut the door behind him.
"Are you sure you're okay to go to school tomorrow? You just got here a couple days ago and it's a big school, I just want to know you're all settled in before I send you off somewhere new again," George fretted, looking at Alex for any sign he might want to stay home.
"I'll be fine, George," Alex said quietly, "Laf can show me around."
George looked at Alex skeptically, but relaxed when he saw Alex's light smile.
George might be tall and intimidating, but he's nice once you get to know him, Alex thought. His foster father was already growing on him, even when Alex had only moved in with him, Martha, and Lafayette three days ago. This was his sixth foster home in the past three years since his mother died. His previous homes had all said the same thing, "too quiet".
But then Martha and George showed up, not minding having a quiet kid. They even had a son already, Lafayette, who they adopted from France. Laf was about Alex's age, and they got along instantly.
Laf will be there tomorrow, Alex thought, I know I'll have a friend.
He sat back down at his desk and got back to writing, this time hopeful that the year would be a success.
