Chapter 5

Eliza, Miranda, and I all gape at Philip.

"What?" Eliza finally shrieks. "Eacker challenged Alexander?"

"Yes!" Philip answers. His eyes are panicked. "Mom, what do we do?"

Eliza strides towards her son. "Where are they now?" she demands. "George and your father?"

"In the market," Philip replies. "Eacker challenged him in front of everyone. And Dad accepted."

"Take me there," Eliza says. Her voice is angry, but the anger isn't directed at Philip. "Hurry."

She turns to me and Miranda. "Girls, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to leave you in the house alone for a bit. We'll be back soon, okay? Make yourselves comfortable."

I manage to nod before she and Philip rush out of the house, the door slamming shut behind them.

I immediately turn to Miranda. "This is crazy!" I exclaim. "This is all our fault, Mandy! We changed history and thought there wouldn't be any consequences… we were wrong!"

"Let's think about this for a moment," Miranda says, taking a deep breath. "What year is it?"

"1801," I reply promptly. "If Philip was supposed to die today, it means the year is 1801."

"Good," Miranda nods. "Alexander Hamilton is supposed to be challenged to a duel by Aaron Burr. What year is that supposed to happen?"

"1804."

"So… I guess since Eacker didn't kill Philip… he might be feeling angry. He probably wants revenge. So he decided to go after Philip's father."

"We can't let this happen," I say firmly. "Who knows what the consequences will be if we let Hamilton duel Eacker? What if they kill each other?"

"We need to set history right again," Miranda agrees. She sighs. "I just have no idea how."

I start to walk towards the door. "Come on," I call over my shoulder. "Let's just get to the marketplace. I want to see what's going on, exactly. Maybe then we'll think of a plan."

Miranda nods and follows me. We carefully exit the house, closing the door gently behind us.

Now that we're standing outside the Hamilton's house, we glance around the quiet streets. Every road looks exactly the same.

"So…" Miranda drawls. "Which way is the market?"

I bite my lip. "Er… this way," I decide, pointing to the road on the right, pretending to be more confident than I feel.

Miranda looks at me hesitantly. "Are you sure?"

I shrug. "There are two roads. We have a fifty percent chance of choosing the one that leads to where we need to go."

Miranda shrugs in return, and together, we start towards the road on the right.

After walking up the road, we hear shouts.

"I think we're going the right way after all!" I exclaim, speeding up my pace. "Come on, Miranda!"

I break into a full-out sprint, Miranda by my side. We come to a large, paved rectangular square lined with brightly colored tents and wooden stalls.

"Welcome to the market," I announce, pleased at my navigational skills. I breathe deeply. Mingling with the aroma of wildflowers, I can also smell salt, fruit, eggs, and spices. My ears are filled with the sounds of clucking chickens and overlapping voices.

Miranda and I walk down the slightly sloped hill that leads into the center of the market.

"There!" I yell, struggling to be heard over the jumble of other sounds. I gesture to where there is a very familiar-looking man standing on a barrel- which probably contained wine or beer.

"George Eacker," Miranda hisses through her teeth, anger flashing in her eyes. "What is he doing?"

Eacker, standing tall atop his barrel, seems to be making a speech.

"I, George Eacker," he announces, his loud voice carrying over the crowds of people, "hereby do challenge Alexander Hamilton to a duel."

He points down at a small man in the crowd. I follow his gaze. The man he is pointing at is wearing a rumpled, dark red suit, along with dusty shoes. His hair is slightly long, like he hasn't had the time to cut it in a while. His blue eyes are fierce.

"Miranda," I whisper in awe. "That's Alexander Hamilton!"

We exchange looks. But now is not the time to be fangirling over meeting the historical characters from our favorite musical.

"You can't do that!" a voice shouts, snapping me out of my thoughts. I turn to see Philip, who has climbed onto an overturned crate in hopes of making himself taller and more intimidating.

"And why not?" Eacker sneers. "You were too cowardly to duel me properly. Now your father will pay."

"Cowardly?" Philip shouts. "I was not a coward! I took up your challenge! I met you in the street! You shot at me!" His gaze is pure fury. "It isn't my fault that you don't know how to aim a gun! It's not my fault your bullet missed me!"

"No," I realize suddenly, spinning to Miranda. "It's not Philip's fault. It's our fault. We were the ones who had to mess up history. We did this." I swallow hard. "We should have just let Philip d-"

"No." Miranda interrupts firmly. "No. Don't say that. Yes, in history, Philip died in a duel. But we saved him. We did a good thing, remember?"

"There are always consequences, Miranda," I say, a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Shh," Miranda says suddenly. "Something's happening."

I look back up to where Philip and Eacker are glaring at each other.

"I challenge you do a duel, George Eacker!" Philip announces. "I want to take my dad's place."

"Philip, no!" Hamilton yells from the ground. "Stop! I can duel Eacker!"

"Both of you dueling me?" Eacker says, sounding amused. "Now, that's a bit unfair, is it not?"

"What about a two-on-two duel?" a new voice asks.

From behind Eacker, a man has approached the scene. He has thick, dark hair, and is wearing a maroon suit with a red tie. He looks coolly uninterested in everything that's going on, and, for some reason, I flinch backwards from him. He radiates authority.

"Aaron Burr," Alexander Hamilton scowls. "What are you doing here?"

Miranda and I turn to gape at each other. Aaron Burr?

Burr chuckles softly. "Well, Hamilton, considering the fact that we're rivals, I don't want to pass up the chance to duel you."

"A four-person duel?" Philip scoffs, interrupting Burr. "That's ridiculous."

"Is it?" Eacker asks softly, smirking. "I think it's a wonderful idea. Thank you, Aaron."

"My pleasure, George."

"Well, Mr. Burr, sir," Hamilton spits, "if it's a duel you want, it's a duel that you'll get. But leave my son out of this. What has he ever done to you?"

"True," Burr says, turning to Philip. "Philip, I have no quarrel against you. I don't wish to duel you."

"Wait, I want to duel him!" Eacker protests, but Hamilton, Philip, and Burr all ignore him.

"If you want to fight my father, you'll have to fight me too, Mr. Burr," Philip responds calmly.

Burr gives Philip a respectful nod. "Very well. Name the time and place."

"Tomorrow," Eacker suggests. "Noon."

"Philip, you don't have to do this," Hamilton pleads.

"Yes, Dad, I do," Philip responds. He turns to Burr and Eacker. "Tomorrow at noon. On the corner of Riverside and Heartsdale."

Eacker grins. "See you then, Hamiltons."