Chapter One

I, McKenzee Papantoniou, am an actress.

Or, well, I like to think myself as one. In truth, I have never actually participated in a musical, play, or movie of any sort. In fact, I've never even been an understudy. Or even gotten on the list. Or even been remotely considered…

But I'm attending Westside Wisconsin Highschool now, and that is all about to change.

()()()

Before I even woke up, I could smell my dad's coffee seeping through my open doorway. My nose lifted, then my eyelids, until I sat up and stretched, letting the blankets fall off of my small frame. I reached out blindly, squeezing my eyes shut as I hit the lightswitch. Rubbing my face, I tried to get used to the bright light after cracking my eyes open.

Okay. 6 AM. First day of the second week of school. English essay due Wednesday, test on Friday. Two assignments that I know of for tomorrow, and a basketball game on the weekend, which I am not sure I will attend. Personal writing should be finished by the end of today, and be sure to practice French Horn. We've got a professional band director coming in tomorrow. My piano skills could use some work, too. I'll stay after school.

I smiled. And the most important thing… Sign up for theatre.

I kicked the rest of my covers off and swung my legs over the side. 6:03. I had to leave by 7, which gave me roughly an hour to get ready. Time to start the day.

I went through my early morning routine first, which consisted of getting dressed, saying goodbye to my dad, who I wouldn't see until late that night, and putting my make-up on. After throwing my black, curly hair into a quick ponytail, I walked to my older brother's room and knocked on the door.

"Ian? Are you up?"

No answer. I turned the handle and pushed it open a crack. Ian was still in bed, his curly hair spread out over his pillow. I walked over to his side and shook his shoulder.

"E, time to get up. It's 6:30. You gotta take your pills."

He had just started to wake up, enough to murmur, "I don't want to."

"Get up or take the pills?"

"Pills. No pills. They make me...lethargic."

I sighed. We'd had this conversation before. "Ian, you have to take them. Once you get used to them, they'll start working, I promise."

"That's what the doctor said last time."

I rubbed his back. "This time will be different, Ian, I promise."

He groaned, then turned over and stretched. "How can you be so positive?"

"Being positive is what helps my personality."

"Are you saying you don't like my personality?"

I rolled my eyes. "You know that's not it. Now hurry and get up. You need to eat breakfast."

"Don't want to."

"Ian… Come on. I'll give you five minutes, okay?"

"Hmm…"

I flicked on the light, ignoring his protests, and walked out of the room. When I'd worked on my essay for about four minutes, Ian stumbled into the kitchen, his hair sticking up everywhere. He ran a hand through it, making it stick up even more.

"Mom bought new cereal." I pointed to the cupboard.

He took a clean bowl from the sink and the cereal and poured it, though I could tell he was doing it reluctantly. I shook my head and took a sip of my black coffee. A year. This had been going on for a year, and he wasn't much better, despite the medications, the hours of therapy, and the new eating program that they'd started a month ago when we'd figured out he'd been starving himself.

But I was there for him now, and he'd be fine. We would all be fine, despite Dad having to work 14-hour days to pay for the bills and my mom being in the hospital so often. I was okay, and I was all they needed to get through this.

My fingers hooked onto my backpack strap and I swung it over my shoulder. "You almost ready, Ian?"

"I just got up, give me a break."

"The bus'll be here soon, though." The stool's legs scraped against the floor as I stood up.

He glanced at the clock, which read 6:40.

"We've got twenty minutes. I think we're fine. You seriously need less energy."

To prove his point, I took another sip of my coffee. "Nah, you just need more energy."

He eyed me, then my mug. "Give me some of that."

I laughed and pushed the mug over to him. "You can finish it."

After taking a sip, he made a face, got up, and proceeded to dump sugar in it.

"You know that isn't good for you, right?"

He looked straight at me while he finished pouring his unholy amount of sugar into the brown liquid. Then he took a long drink of it. "I don't care."

I laughed again. "Whatever, I guess." I closed the cover of my chromebook with a snap and brought it to my room, which was now illuminated by the faint light coming from the early sun. The posters hung on the wall were clearly able to be seen. I glanced over them once more before I left. I had ones for theatre, for volleyball, for music, and, most importantly, the biggest one in the middle. With a black star against the golden background, the figure stood proud and tall, aiming his gun towards the sky.

Throwing away his shot, I thought to myself. How dare you, Alexander.

Despite the many mistakes of our featured character, Hamilton still remained my top musical. And the best thing was that there was a 90 percent chance my school would be performing it. That's how I was going to get in.

"Bus!" Ian yelled from the kitchen. I shook myself out of thoughts of Hamilton and Anthony Ramos-who was on another poster I had-and ran into the kitchen, making sure all the lights were off and the food put away before following Ian out the door.

I locked it behind me and stuffed the key into my pocket. The wind was strong this morning, pushing against me and threatening to knock me over, despite my heavy backpack. Our lawn hadn't been mowed in weeks, and now the gusts swept through it, rolling it like the rippling waves of a lake. I thought it was quite pretty, but it was just another reminder that we didn't have enough money to afford a lawn mower.

But it was fine. We were content, and I had a great school to attend. An awesome older brother, awesome friends, and the best parents I could wish for.

Who knows when that might change, but for now, I was willing to enjoy it.

Heyo. So as you may have noticed, this isn't a typical Hamilton fanfic. It'll follow McKenzee and her adventures dealing with Hamilton, but I promise I'll make it interesting. Oh, btw, I have no idea how theatre actually works, cause our school doesn't do it (which kinda stinks), but any tips on how it all works? Like how to get in and stuff?

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Next one will be longer. Please review! I live for feedback.

See you next time! -kenna