John POV

"John!"

I looked up from my latest sketches of a rainbow turtle for Pride Month.

"Yes, father?" I peeked around him to look at my clock. I had been drawing for over three hours now.

"What do you think you are drawing?" He shouted.

"Well, it's Pride Month and-"

"WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT HANGING OUT WITH PEOPLE LIKE THAT?" With every word, he said he got louder and louder.

"Father I just have to do the-"

"NO! NO SON OF MINE WILL BE ASSOCIATED WITH PEOPLE LIKE THEM!" He shouted at me. His words stabbed me like a blade to the chest. I then realized he noticed the shock and hurt on my face. "I want you to throw that sketchbook away. I never want to see anything like that again in my household." He said placing a hand over his right side of his face.

I sat in my small swivel chair, not moving a muscle. I worked so hard on these designs and

I'm not going to throw them in the trash. And this was the special sketchbook that my Nana gave to me before she died. "I'm not going to-" A book hit my face before I could finish my sentence. I realized it was my sketchbook. I toppled over and clutched my face in pain.

"DON'T TALK BACK TO ME OR YOU WILL BE SORRY." He declared, turning around to leave my room. "And I expect you to know that I stand by what I say." And with that, he left without another word.

Tears filled my eyes and were a steady river flowing down my cheeks, my concealer smudged from my aggressive wrists wiping the tears from my face. It was then when I heard the small little pitter-patter of rain on my window.

I looked out at the Washingtons' house, my new neighbor. I met Mr. Washington last week. He seems nice, and he takes in foster kids.

School let out last week, so I never got the chance to meet some people before this summer, and I was not ready for a daily beating from a drunk father every day with him having no recollection of what happened.

We moved here two days ago.

I stared at the window adjacent to mine, wondering whose bedroom that was. I hadn't gotten to meet Mr. Washington's family or foster kids yet, my father said that he didn't want me hanging out with people I barely knew. What does he know?

I stared out at that window for some time when I saw a kid, around my age, sit down at a desk with a plate full of food. Lucky. Most days, if I'm lucky enough, I can barely find food in the fridge or pantry. My father never buys food at all. It's always me or Martha telling him that we are running out of food. If we tell him too often, he threatens me because I'm the oldest. Although I have a driver's license, I'm not allowed to have a car nor drive Father's car.

Anyways. He seemed kind of cute, to be honest. I stared at him typing on his laptop for a little while when he looked and his plate of food, obviously cold. He poked around it with his fork before setting his fork down. He looked so focused on what he was working on. The mystery boy looked up at me and froze when we locked eyes. I looked away, blushing profusely before looking back at him. I gave him a small wave and a small smile when I heard a crack of thunder.

I noticed the mystery boy in the window stared at me with fear in his eyes and shut his window shades and disappeared. I then realized maybe it wasn't a good idea to agree to move here.

The next day I decided that I was going to get to know this place a little more.

"Martha, while Father is gone I'm going to go get some coffee. Please take care of the kids." I said, giving my little sister a peck on the head before heading out.

"I will, you can trust me." She said, giving my hand a small squeeze. "You deserve to make friends who will help you."

"Thank you, Martha. You are the best sister anyone could ask for." I gave her a tight hug. Martha was the only person in the world that knew about my sexuality. If Father knew, I'd be living on the streets.

I slipped into my blue turtle hoodie and snuck outside before any of my siblings could notice.

It was about a half-hour of walking before I found a local Starbucks. I entered and stood in line, scanning the room to see what it might be like tomorrow. It was a small place, but big enough to have a chatter going on. It was almost like white noise, it blended in nicely with my surroundings.

Within no time, I was at the front of the line. "I'll have a [insert Starbucks drink here] with extra whipped cream, please," I said politely.

"Ya know, you are the second person here to actually say 'please.' It's nice to know that SOMEONE around here has manners!" The barista giggled. "The name's Peggy. Peggy Schuyler."

"John Laurens. Everyone calls me Laurens. Pleased to meet you, Peggy." I said with a hearty laugh.

Peggy handed me my drink and said, "You should come by here more often. I only have one friend who comes here daily. Alexander Hamilton." She pointed behind me at someone in a charcoal grey hoodie seated in the closest table to the counter in the corner.

A boy lifted his head hearing his name, obviously named Alexander Hamilton. Then, I realized that it was the mysterious boy next door. I gave him a wave, but he shifted his head back towards his laptop.

"Sorry 'bout Alex being such a jerk. He's always like this with new people. Well, ever since he met Thomas freshman year." She laughed.

"Miss, we'd all love to sit and chat, but some of us are in a rush here!" A man called from behind me in line.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry!" Peggy called, then looked back at me. "I'll talk to you later. Next!"

I stepped into the waiting line. This, I realized, was a great time to examine this Alexander Hamilton a bit more closely. He had beautiful, deep brown eyes. His tongue stuck out while he was focused. He never touched his coffee when he was focused, either. His hair was pulled into a small ponytail on the back of his head, not too close to the base of his head but not to close to the top of his head either. He had a bit of peach fuzz on his chin. He was truly adorable when he was focused.

"Laurens?" Peggy called.

"Thanks, Peggy," I said, turning to leave.

"Wait! Here's my number, call me sometime and we can hang out with some of my other friends. Or wait, are you my age, or are you, like, older?" She blabbered.

"Oh, um, I'm seventeen. I'm going to be a senior this year." I said.

"Oh, goody! So am I! Are you going to Revolutionary High?"

"Um, yeah, I think?"

"Cool! Anyways, here is my number. If you text me, say it's from Lin Manuel Miranda. It's an inside joke between me and my closest friends. It's just so I know that it's you." She giggled. "I'm sorry, but I have to finish my shift. Talk later! Byeeeeeee!"

"Bye, Peggy," I said, giving her a small wave.

I went over to the table behind Alexander's and opened my sketchbook. Taking out my special pencil, I got lost in my drawings and daydreamed about school.

Another couple of hours or so, I heard Peggy's voice. "Laurens!" I turned around and saw Peggy running towards me with two other girls and another guy. Peggy wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug.

"Um, hi, Peggy," I said with the last couple of breaths I had left.

Peggy released me and started blabbering away. "It's good to see you again! These are my sisters Angelica and Eliza and my friend Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Rich Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, Marquis de Lafayette!"

I stood there with eyes wide wondering if that's how I would have to address him every time.

"It's, how you say, okay if you want to call me one of my names, you know," The man said, reading my mind. "Most people call me Lafayette or Gilbert." He placed an arm around my shoulder.

"Okay, thanks, Gilbert," I said hesitantly.

"I'm Angelica, that's Eliza-" Eliza gave a small wave "- and we're triplets, just so you know for future reference," Angelica said with confidence.

"Hi, then."

"You know, Laurens, I haven't seen you around here before. Are you new here?" Peggy cocked her head to the side like a confused dog.

"Oh, yeah. I moved here three days ago from South Carolina."

"That's cool!" Gilbert said with excitement. "Why did you move here?"

"My… father was looking for a new job." I didn't dare tell them the truth. If I told them, they would ask too many questions.

My father wasn't looking for a new job. He came here to get away from gay people. They would probably assume I'm anti-gay as well. Little does anyone know, I'm gay.

"Oh. Nothing too out of the ordinary then!" Angelica declared, "well, we sure show you a good time here in Revolutionary Heights!"

"Thanks!" I headed off towards Taco Bell with my newly found group of friends. Or, I think they are my friends. I'm not completely sure. They could just be being nice.

My group and I walked around the three-story mall for hours on end when it was almost four-thirty in the afternoon. "Oh my gosh, I'm sorry. I have to go before my father comes home. Sorry for having to leave so suddenly!"

"Nah, it's fine, Laurens, just remember to text us!" Eliza said. "Then we can keep in touch!"

"Thanks, guys," I said. One small wave later, I was running back home.

"Laurens! It's about time you got back!" Martha whisper-scolded.

"I'm sorry, I met four awesome people that wanted to hang out with me!" I whispered back.

"You'd better get to your room before Father sees you. I told him you were resting."

"Thanks, Martha. Is Father drunk yet?"

"He was drunk when he got here." She sighed.

"I'm sorry we're living like this. I will figure something out."

Martha squeezed my hand. "Thank you." Her voice was the tiniest I have ever heard out of her mouth. I know she's scared. Father only beats me, but ever since we got here, he's been threatening Martha. Father had threatened me for a month before he started physical contact.

I tiptoed up to my stairs and looked at her pillows underneath my blankets to make it look like I was underneath the blankets. Martha is super smart, if not smarter than me. Probably smarter than me.

I moved the pillows back to Martha's bed and rustled my hair to make it look like I just woke up.

I was about to open my sketchbook when I remembered what happened last night.

"John. I want to *hic* talk to you." Father drawled.

"Yes, Father?"

"I want you to get a job. I can't find one anywhere. You need to help me with this."

"Of course, Father, but I don't have a car."

"Did I ask if you had a car? You can walk for a reason!" The slap caught me off guard. I toppled to my left hitting the fridge. I clutched my left arm and face, tears ruining my concealer once again.

This is how my summer went:

I found a job in no time, and Father found one a week later. Father came home every day drunk, like always. Constant smacks across the face and beatings were same old, same old, except the fact that the belt was added into the mix. Martha was now being shoved every day by our drunk Father when he got upset with her.

My shift at McDonald's starts at 10:00 AM, just enough time in the morning to grab a coffee at Starbucks from Peggy and hang out with the triplets and Gilbert.