Someone's probably done this already but I'm still going to do it because why not. Throughout this whole thing I will try to keep as much historically/musically accurate as possible, so if I messed something up, please notify me so I can make the necessary changes. Also since they're in high school they won't have kids, so I'll be changing the relationships and ages between everyone. And this is a strict No Death! Zone, so don't worry about any heart-wrenching deaths.

Alexander Hamilton

I walked through the grand entrance hall to see a man, towering over me. He probably wouldn't have been all that intimidating except that the coat he was wearing (inside! I knew it was cold, but this seemed more like a blatant show of power than for keeping warm) was lined in fur.

"Welcome to King's College Preparatory Boarding School! I am George King III, the principal here, and I must tell you, I run a very strict institution and I will not tolerate any misbehavior. Is that clear?" If the fur coat wasn't enough, this guy had a very clearly faked British accent, as if it would make him sound more powerful. Which it didn't.

"Yes, sir," I said, regretting my choice of application. But then again, where would I be, if not for this school? Still back in St. Croix, most likely, or I may have gone back to Nevis, though I had sworn I would never set foot on that island again. Even on the way up here there were rumors about King, about his dictatorial rule and intolerable acts of punishment on the student body and staff. But then I remembered my real draw towards this particular establishment: the one student known as Aaron Burr. He was apparently my own age, but was supposedly smart enough that nearby colleges and universities had invited him to some of their lectures.

"Now, Mr..."

As I was about to answer I heard someone yell, "Hey, what's your name, man?"

I turned around and yelled back in reply, "My name is Alexander Hamilton!"

"Oh ho." King looked amused. Why, I wasn't sure, only that it could only mean trouble. "And why do you think you should be accepted into this prestigious place of learning?"

"Well I'm well on my way to becoming a scholar and I've heard this is the best place to advance my learning."

"And why do you, Mr. Hamilton, think that a bastard, orphan son of a whore from the Caribbean should be capable of growing up to be a scholar?"

I fumed. How dare he bring that up, and how dare he think that just because I'm poor means I don't have the mental capacity as anyone else. But just as I was about to give him a piece of my mind, someone else came up and interrupted me.

"Mr. King? This is the room key for Mr. Hamilton here." He then turned to me and continued, "If you would please follow me, I'll show you to your room and give you your schedule. Classes begin tomorrow." I followed him around the expansive campus until we came to one of the four dorm hallways. "The first here is for 6th and 7th graders, next for 8th and 9th, this third one is yours, for 10th and 11th, and then the last one down there is for seniors only. Caught outside of your dorm hall at any time and you will be punished." Being led through the sophomore/junior dorm, I heard people talking and music playing, but the man, who had introduced himself as the financial coordinator, continued passed those rooms until he stopped at a door all the way at the back. I opened the door, wondering who my roommate would be, to nothing. Just a tiny, barren room, empty of all life. "I'm quite sorry," the financial coordinator said, not sounding sorry in the least, "but given your financial circumstances, this was the best we could do. Now, here's your schedule. You will report to English Language and Composition at 8:00 with Mr. King."

He turned to leave, but I had noticed something odd about my schedule. "Excuse me, but aren't I supposed to be in 11th grade? I am 17, after all."

"Oh, right, about that. Well, as you've never really attended a...proper school, we thought it best if you get an extra year in before graduating. You'll be in class with those in 10th grade, but I assure you, it really is for the best."

My anger, which had started with King, rose up and boiled over. "So what? I get a crappy room far away from everyone else and get held back?" Now I probably shouldn't have done what I did, but I was mad and there was no other way to expel my anger that quickly. That's right, I punched him and then slammed the door in his face. I knew it wasn't a smart move; he was in close with King, but I couldn't help it.

"You think you're as good as Aaron Burr, sir?! Go find him, he'll tell you the truth. And don't forget to mention me!" I heard a muffled voice cry from the other side of the door.

I dropped my bag on the floor and unpacked my meager supply of clothes that were somehow expected to last me the entire semester. Next out came my worn notebook. Sure, it was old and falling apart but it got the job done. In this case, the job was to write a ten page letter of complaint to the main office. In it, I expressed my distaste and dissatisfaction with the constant prejudice against the poor. How even though I did not come from money, I've done more than most of the other students here. My father left my brother and I when I was just 10, our mother died barely two years later, and just a month ago my home was destroyed by a hurricane. I've saved myself through my writing yet they treat me as if I don't deserve even the slightest bit of human kindness. I managed to fill ten pages in my cramped handwriting of that.

After unpacking my other bag (full of books, pens, and notebooks for each subject), I decided to head down to the library. I was sure to find a possible friend there, along with the more important goal of getting a head start on all my classes. And as it was on the way to the main office where I was to deliver my letter, I figured why not get everything done at once.

I found him sitting in the back corner of the library, secluded from everyone else. I went up to him and asked, quietly, but loud enough to get his attention, "Pardon me, are you Aaron Burr...sir?"

Not even looking up to see who I was, he replied coolly, "That depends, who's asking?" He did this while keeping his eyes pointedly focused on the page he was reading, an eyebrow lifted slightly. How he was able to stay so composed, with such a smooth voice I may never know.

My stomach dropped. How could he not remember me? He had just yelled at me asking what my name was no more than an hour...is it really 8 already? I must have lost track of my time again while writing my complaint. I gaped at him before replying, "I'm Alexander Hamilton and I've been looking for you."

He finally looked up at me and answered with a hint of a smirk in his voice, "I'm getting nervous."

"I heard your name on my way here, heard how incredibly brilliant you are, and wanted to be given an accelerated course of study. I'm sure I could do it! But I may have gotten into a disagreement with a buddy of yours. He told me to come find you? He said to mention him. I may have punched him, but it really is a blur, he handles the financials I think?"

Aaron Burr

My mouth opened in astonishment, and clarified, both eyebrows up in the air, "You punched the bursar." I said it as sort of a statement, a finality of sorts, which obviously threw him off his game.

"Yes! He looked at me like I was stupid, I'm not stupid," he added. Though I had my doubts, he seemed to be one of those energetic people, like some of the other guys in our year, with no hesitancy about saying what they think. I decided that I had to intervene, before he wound up in the same sort of trouble they were headed for. But he beat me to it. "So how do you do it? How do you get them to allow you this?"

"It was my parents' dying wish before they died," I responded quietly. Even though I barely knew them, my father did serve as the president here before he died, and figured we may as well treat that with respect.

However, Alexander Hamilton appeared to have no such qualms and burst out, "You're an orphan! I'm an orphan!"