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The only noise in the car was the slight whoosh from the heater and the scratching of a pen. Alex hunched over his ratty notebook (number 23 since he moved to the States if he counted, which he did) and scribbled the same words over again: “don’t mess up, don’t mess up, don’t mess up.”
“You know Alexander, this could very well be your last shot. Don’t waste it, boy.”
Besides a slight flinch at the last word, Alex gave no indication he heard his social worker – the indominable Mr. Newbury.
The words on the paper changed: “My shot, my shot, my shot.”
The social worker sighed. “You need to acknowledge when a superior speaks to you, Alexander.” “Yes sir.” Alex’s voice was robotic and bland.
The car turned onto a newly paved road and Newbury spoke again.
“Put that garbage away, we’re almost here.”
Alex obeyed, snapping the notebook shut in a quiet show of defiance. “Boy, I pulled a lot of favors getting you placed here, I don’t need disrespect!” Newbury snapped.
That word again. Boy. Alex always hated being called boy. He nodded and apologized quietly.
Soon a gate is in sight. A stately and ornate iron wrought gate that sends a spike of dread through Alex. He doesn’t like gates or being trapped. This was not looking good.
The car pulls up the drive easily. Too quickly, Alex is ushered out and up the front steps.
He stumbled on the concrete and Newbury doesn’t attempt to catch him. Or maybe he does. Alex can’t remember. All he knows is the harsh feel of concrete scraping against his delicate, bruised hands and knees.
The door opened while Alex was on the ground and he jerked back at the sight of two unfamiliar people. Newbury steadied him this time but Alex still cringed at the touch.
“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered as he clambers to his feet. He tried not to, but still noticeably jerks from Newbury’s grip. The couple at the door look… concerned? Or is it disdainful? Alex can’t tell.
“Are you alright, son?” The man – the senator asked. Alex nodded jerkily as he stood.
“Senator Washington, Mrs. Washington, this is Alexander Hamilton, your new ward.” Newbury shook their hands.
“Hello Alexander,” Mrs. Washington said softly. “You can call me Martha.”
“Hello ma’am,” Alex smiled slightly, but his eyes flashed nervously to Senator Washington.
“I’m George,” said the Senator. “None of the senator nonsense at home.”
“Yes sir,” Alex said, slurring the words together in his haste.
There was an awkward pause. Newbury cleared his throat.
“Well, I must be going,” he turned to Alex. “Mind your manners and remember what I said, got it?” The last words were a tad sharp and George’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Alex nodded, glad to be rid of Newbury but wishing he was anywhere but here. No, that’s not quite right. He wanted to be on Nevis, pre-storm, in his and his mother’s little yellow house with the creaky checkerboard floor.
Newbury disappeared into the car and drove off, the cars tires squealing slightly from the speed he took off with.
Mr. Washington frowned. Alex couldn’t call him George, he just couldn’t. Galstein made Alex call him Al. At the thought Alex shuddered slightly.
Martha noticed and gestured for him to enter the house, “Goodness you must be freezing!”
It was true. Alex was only wearing a ratty sweatshirt. His coat had been ripped irreparably when he was escaped Al.
He waited on the stoop for an awkward moment, praying for the Washington’s to enter first. He hated having people follow him, even if it was something as innocuous as entering a house.
Martha and George gave each other a look but entered before Alex.
“Would you like to see your room before dinner?” Martha asked. Alex shrugged.
“George why don’t you put the pasta on while I show Alex his room and introduce him to Gilbert?” Martha said purposefully. George gave Alex a long look but obliged.
Nervous, Alex followed Martha up the stairs.
“Who-“ he coughed to clear his throat. “Who is Gilbert?”
“Didn’t Jonathan tell you... I suppose not... that man...” she trailed off. “Gilbert is our son. We adopted him several years ago when he immigrated from France. He’s a little... excitable, but don’t be nervous.”
Alex nodded.
She knocked on the first door on the left. “Gilbert? Alexander is here” she barely got out the sentence before the door flew open. Alex flinched back as a tall boy all but leaped out of the room.
“Alexander! Mon ami, how happy I am to meet you! How are you? Are you excited to live with us? I can’t wait for you to meet my friends! Aren’t mama and papa wonderful?! It is wonderful to have a new brother!“
“Gilbert, honey, you’re speaking in French again. Alexander doesn’t -“
But Alexander already responded, “Nice to meet you too. I’m okay. How are you?“ “Magnifique! You speak French mon ami?” The taller boy exclaimed. Martha was right, he was excitable.
“Oh boy, now there’s two boys who speak a language I can’t get my head around!” Martha laughed. “Gilbert, why don’t you show Alexander his room and give him a little tour before dinner? I have to go help your father.”
She left, shaking her head a little in mirth.
“Er, hello. I am Alexander Hamilton. You’re Gilbert?“ Alex asked.
“Oui! But only mama and papa call me Gilbert. My friends call me Lafayette! And so shall you, mon ami!” Lafayette smiled. “Let’s see your room, yes? You’re next to me! We can have sleepovers whenever we want!” Alex smiled nervously. He could never sleep through the night and had never had a sleepover.
The room was, frankly, indecently huge. There was a tall wooden dresser to one side, a large queen sized bed with a luxurious set of sheets (he could tell just by looking they were that nice), a desk (which Alex was ecstatic to see), and... Alex couldn’t even describe it all. The ceiling was tall, the windows let beautiful natural light in illuminating the gorgeous dark wood floors.
His mouth must have been open because Lafayette said “Overwhelming isn’t it? I felt the same when I got here.”
Alex nodded a little. On the bed lay a light gray splotched cat.
“Who’s this?” He asked.
“This is Xander! He is our spoiled kitty.” At the call of his name the cat stretched it’s long body and yawned widely, exposing sharp teeth before laying back down. Alex stared. He’d never really been around cats before, only strays that sometimes came around on Nevis.
“Do you like cats?” Lafayette asked.
“I don’t know.” Alex answered truthfully.
“I do. But this cat only likes Papa. He tolerates mama and I but he loves papa.”
Lafayette made a face. “He was supposed to be my cat, but c’est la vie. Now. “ He clapped his hands together. “A tour sounds about right. Shall we mon ami?”
Alex nodded, having started slightly when Lafayette clapped.
By the end of the tour Alex was convinced that the Washington’s must be insanely rich. They had luxurious rooms with rich colorings and fabrics from what Alex could tell. The floors were dark hardwood, and lush curtains hung from every window.
“We closed off part of the house because mama likes a closer feel to the house.” Lafayette had explained when they came to a large set of wooden doors. “It’s not locked but we keep the door closed. Nothing is secret here.”
Alex snorted inwardly at that. There certainly would be secrets if he stayed here. Not that he would. One panic attack and the Washington’s would pack him off to CPS like everyone else.
They headed down for dinner, Alex following Lafayette. Like a pathetic puppy, Alex thought disgusted with himself.
“Gilbert sweetheart why don’t you and Alex set the table?” Martha asked when they entered the dining room.
“Oh Mama,” Lafayette groaned with a smile.
“Do not sass me Gilbert du Motier,” she snarked back.
Alex smiled softly at the clearly loving family. He felt like an outsider as Martha ran a hand over Mr. Washington’s shoulder as she passed him and flicked some water at her son.
“Come Alexander!” Lafayette called from the cutlery drawer. “Plates are over there,” he pointed to a cabinet.
Alex looked nervously at the tall cabinet. Too tall. He turned to Lafayette but he already had two hands full of cutlery.
He reached up on his tip toes, aiming for the blue patterned plates.
“Here let me get that Alexander,” a deep voice behind him said. He felt a body brush behind him and froze.
One.
Two.
Three.
Alex gasped and jerked away. A plate fell from George’s hand and onto the floor with a loud crash. Alex screeched in fear and fell back. He crashed into George and panicked even more, wrenching himself away from George’s concerned grasp and rushed blindly out of the room, stepping into the shards of ceramic as he went.
In the dining room he bumped into a hard chair and jerked away again, this time against the wall. He sunk down to his knees, breathing heavy and gasping through panicked sobs as he pressed against the wall.
“Alexander!” It was Mr. Washington.
“No! Please! I’m sorry please!” He moaned, curling up as small as he could. He couldn’t breathe. “Please,” He whimpered again. “I don’t want to!”
“Alexander,” Mr. Washington said softly.
“No!” This time he all but howled, his voice cracking in fear.
“George. Out!” This time it was a woman speaking.
Alex heard heavy footsteps walk away from him and his breathing calmed a little.
“Alexander sweetheart?” The voice was feminine this time. He opened his watery eyes. Martha.
“I-I-I” Alex stumbled over his words. His words were all he had. Why couldn’t he make them work? What was wrong with him? He started to work himself into a panic again.
“No alexander, shh, you’re okay. You’re safe. I promise. “ Martha’s voice was soft and soothing and Alex opened his eyes again. She was crouched down beside him, Lafayette hovering over her, looking shocked.
“No,” Alex groaned, turning away again. He had already screwed it up his last chance. It hadn’t even been an hour.
“Alexander, sweetie, will you look at me?” Martha asked softly. He looked again, ashamed at the concern on her face. He didn’t deserve her worry, he was a freak who couldn’t control himself.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice croaky.
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” she said firmly. Alex shook his head.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He chanted over and over.
“Alexander. You have nothing to be sorry about. I need you to calm down now,” she reached out to touch his shoulder, but he flinched horribly.
“May I touch your shoulder,” she asked. He nodded slowly. She reached out again and he followed her hand with his eyes, turning his head to keep her hand in sight.
She rubbed his thin shoulder steadily and despite himself, Alex found himself calming.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” Martha said, quelling Alex’s fear for the time being.
“We need to get you cleaned up,” she said. Suddenly Alex became aware of a throbbing in his socked feet. He looked down and saw blood spots seeping through his thin socks.
“The plate,” he said slowly. “I’ll- I’ll pay you back."
“Shush,” Martha said with a firm look.
“We have too many anyway,” came a voice from the doorway. Alex looked up with a jerk.
Mr. Washington stood in the threshold, smiling slightly. He maintained a steady distance and Alex, while nervous, didn’t feel the need to rush from the room again.
“Here sweetheart, can I see your feet please? George, get me some band-aids and some antiseptic.” Martha gently removed her hand from Alex’s shoulder and began to roll his socks off his damaged feet. He hissed slightly in pain and had to resist the urge to kick out. Lafayette took over rubbing his shoulder, crouching down to Alex’s level.
In short time his feet were bandaged, and he began to look at the dining table, he felt too raw to sit down to a meal with these strangers. As if reading his mind, Martha offered a solution.
“Would you like to eat in your room tonight?” She asked. Grateful, Alex nodded. He hobbled up the stairs after Martha and sat at the desk. A plate of pasta with meatballs was set in front of him and Martha brushed his shoulder as she left.
Later, plate halfway empty and stomach completely full, Alex rested on the bed. Xander had since left the room, having pawed at the door until Alex got up and released him. Alex wasn’t going to admit it, because admissions like this were dangerous, but this placement might not be as bad as the others.