She hands me the invitation, her chocolate eyes sparkling.

"Alexandra, I refuse to believe that you are not excited about this! A ball in the Schuyler mansion? Do you not want to gaze upon the finest men in all of the thirteen colonies?"

I sigh, wishing I had Joanna Laurens' imagination. None of the men there would give me a second thought, even with my brains and if I care to admit beauty. Jo shoves my invitation at me, squealing praises of the Schuylers, of General Washington, of God himself. I take my invitation and shove it in my bosom, unable to excite myself the way Jo can.

Jo approaches me again, taking me in her arms. She is tinier than me by a foot; her skin looks like caramel and she has dainty freckles painted across her cheeks. She is one of the most beautiful women I have ever had the pleasure of meeting, much less becoming my friend. "Alex…"

"Yes, my darling Joanna?" I smile in mock admiration for my best friend. She giggles, pushing me away. I laugh too, realizing that she is behaving herself today.

"I just want you to relax. You've been so uptight the last few weeks. I think this ball could be the chance for you to take a load off, enjoy some ale… Enjoy my company," she takes my hand with this, kissing the back of my palm. My cheeks fill with warmth as she turns away. "Please. I will not ask you again."

After pondering the thought, I slowly remove the invitation from my bosom. In fancy, looping letters reads, "The Schuyler family formally invites the aide-de-camp Alexandra Hamilton to a ball at Albany". I nod at the words almost like a non-verbal confirmation.

I sigh, taking Jo in my arms again. "I suppose I'll have to go. They did formally invite me, after all," Jo giggles at my joke as I put my invitation into my important business sachel. I blow out the candle on my dresser, laying in my cot.

I stare at her through the darkness of our tent. "Good night, Laurens."

She stands in the middle of the room, her undershirt falling off of her right shoulder. She pulls her hair out of her ponytail, letting it fall down her shoulders dramatically. "Good night, Hamilton." Before I drift into sleep, the last thing I see is her ghostly figure, and hear her voice.

"Good night, Alexandra Hamilton."

Good night, Joanna Laurens.