Chapter 19: More of a Phenomenon

Alex and Evan both ended up trotting to Washington's history class together, right next to each other physically but a million worlds apart mentally.

When they arrived and Evan hurried off, Alex happily made his way over to his seat. Mondays. You could tell that some people looked crushed under the strain of the workload, but Alex felt better than he'd ever had. He thrived off the work.

"Hey, Alex!"

The boy turned to see Angelica happily waving at him. "Hey, hang out with us."

Alex blinked in surprise before shifting his attention to Eliza. She was grinning from ear to ear at him. Evidently, that girl could work miracles, because Angelica had done a complete 180 on him.

He glanced over at Hercules and Aaron. They were both grinning and gesturing that he should go. Emboldened by his friends' arm-waving, he went over, sat next to her, and began his most enjoyable history class yet.

More time passed, just as it always did. Halloween came and went, and Alex spent it working, wondering just what he might be missing as he typed into the night.

A few feet away across the dorm room, Evan was also working, madly conducting the Connor Project as though he were in a trance. Jared and Alana had been surprisingly receptive of the idea, and when they'd gone over to pitch the idea to the Murphys, they were more gung-ho about it than he was. Oddly enough, Zoe wasn't there, but that was all the better. Evan wasn't sure if he had enough moisture in his body left to sweat out.

It turned out, however, that starting something - anything, really - in college was a much more difficult endeavor than it would have been in, say, high school. So many hoops to jump through, so much paperwork that had to be written in order for even just a single assembly to be called.

November passed, and the two boys spent countless hours, toiling side-by-side. Winter break rolled around, and while most students happily enjoyed the break from their studies, the two of them continued to work.

Of course, Alex had already finished his assignments ages before they were due. Currently, he just spent his time writing essays, theses on the economy, on the country, and on politics. It was his vice, his source of pleasure. He'd lose himself sometimes in the paragraphs he built.

He still managed to make time for his friends and for excessive consumption of alcohol, of course. He would hardly be Alexander Hamilton if he did not.

"It's the Schyuler's big party soon," Hercules mentioned, downing another shot happily.

"And remember, you promised to go," John added.

Alex rubbed his temples. "Damn it. Really? I've got stuff I want to do."

"What stuff could that possibly be?"

"Work."

"My friend, S'il vous plaît." Lafayette leaned forward. "My offer is still standing. Like I say before, the French are the best-"

"At making love. Just ask any pig or dog you find in the field."

Thomas Jefferson sauntered in with James Madison lurking behind him. The former was grinning from ear to ear, as though he'd just told a funny joke.

"Take that back," John spat as he rose up from his chair. Several people swung to look at the interesting situation.

"Your friend can speak for himself," Jefferson shot back. Lafayette looked like he was about to blow his top off. One could almost see cartoonish steam coming out of his ears.

"Or has he already surrendered?" Thomas continued. "Just like his people always do."

Lafayette jumped up. "Vous enculé!" he screamed. "Je te deteste. La France est la meilleure! Je vais te fourrer une baguette dans le cul, espèce de connard pompeux!"

"He's cursing at you in French," Alex helpfully translated.

James glowered a bit at Lafayette, and the latter slowed down slightly. Despite being a rather quiet and sickly person, he was built as wide and strong as Hercules, and definitely looked like he wouldn't be a pushover in a fight.

"Now, how about we all relax a bit?" Hercules asked, suddenly looking somewhat frightened.

"How about you stop being a pus-"

Before Thomas could finish his insult, Alex walked up to him and punched him in the gut.

Thomas was surprised. Alex was surprised. Heck, everyone was surprised. But it felt so immensely satisfying, seeing the pained expression on his face and the feel of Thomas almost doubling over.

What was less satisfying was when Jefferson returned and swung at Alex so hard in the arm that he nearly knocked him over. Alex was flung backwards before catching himself on the table, barely avoiding smacking his head.

John lunged forward and attempted to slide-tackle Jefferson, only to miss by a few feet and knock some other random person over. They flailed and hit someone else, and suddenly, it was a full-on bar fight between everyone around, nobody knowing or caring who started it.

Burr stood up and put himself between Hamilton and Jefferson, desperately trying to convince them to stop fighting. This was a bad idea. Alex, already in the process of throwing another punch and unable to stop himself, hit Burr square on the cheek.

On instinct, Aaron punched back and hit hard enough to send Alex back several feet once again, hitting the floor.

Thomas laughed. Hercules rammed his shoulder into him and knocked him down, turning his laugh into a strange mixture of laughter and screaming.

"Oh, God!" Aaron shouted. He ran over to his friend's fallen form. "Are you alright? I'm sorry."

"Nah, I'm good." Alex spat a little bit of blood on the floor. A bottle smashed against a counter somewhere, sending shards of glass flying. "Maybe we should leave."

And so the two of them carefully wound their way around the chaotic fighting and left. John, Laf, and Hercules clearly had the same idea, and were all nursing various wounds that they had sustained during the tussle.

"Let's leave," John suggested.

And so, they did.

It was odd. Rumor had it that at least one person had been hospitalized thanks to the incident at the bar that Alex himself had ignited, but nothing happened to him. The authorities didn't come to take him away. It seemed as though this sort of thing happened at Sam Adams frequently. At least, that's what Alex had gathered from the whole experience.

The only thing that reminded him that it wasn't some sort of crazy hallucination or something was the constant dirty looks that Thomas would shoot him whenever they crossed paths. Man, that guy was a pest.

One week more, and Alex woke up to the realization that he'd be attending the Schyuler's party.

What an obligation, it felt like. More so than any assignment he'd been given.

Eliza's there, he reminded himself.

And that's how he somehow found himself in the back of John Laurens' crappy car, wearing the one nice dress shirt and one formal pair of pants he owned, trying to smile and pretend like he was enjoying himself while also pretending he wasn't pretty damn stressed out.

The mile-long driveway of the Schyuler mansion was jam-packed, and so it was a mile-long walk that the quartet would be taking, which gave Alex plenty of time to admire the house that he would be partying in. The young man still could not understand how a living space could be this big.

He steeled himself. Focus. It's showtime.

Credit to Google Translate, because I do not speak French.