Sorry for not writing lately!!! I know I promised... Anyway, one shot time. It's almost everyone, all my people, but I excluded a few. -C

   Desperately clinging to the side of the boat, Alexander Hamilton takes a deep breath. He didn't think he would get so seasick! It was all worth it. That's what he repeats to himself as the contents of his stomach churns.

   A backpack rests on his back, his clothing stuffed inside. He didn't have much. Five shirts, one sweatshirt, three pairs of pants, two pairs of socks, and underwear, including the things he has on already.

The most important thing is nestled in his pocket though. It's the thing guaranteeing all of his dreams to be true, not a fantasy.

That one letter changed his life. Telling Alex that he got a full ride to the college, telling him that he could stay at the dorm. He didn't even realize that he applied until the letter was there, and then shortly after, he was on the boat.

His eyelids flutter shut, and Alex lets the images of America dance across his mind. It's a dream, a fantasy, come true. He'll be there soon...

Then, he practically pitches himself over the railing, his stomach lurching as his lunch resurfaces. The sooner America gets there, the sooner Alex can do something great...And keep down a meal.

From across the table, Sarah Burr stares at Aaron Burr. "You got a scholarship to a New York college?"

"I can't go to Princeton, Sarah," he murmurs, tucking his head slightly. "You're not even going to Princeton, sis-"

   "I didn't get a scholarship to Princeton and then choose a New York college," snaps Sarah. She abruptly stands up, glowering at her little brother with thinly disguised anger.

   He fidgets slightly, but Aaron knows that he won't change his stance on this. It's somehow freeing, knowing he won't be stuck with his parents' legacies. He has to try so hard to be someone they could be proud of. Princeton would bring back memories or thoughts he didn't want.

   New York is a big city, somewhere he can almost lose himself in. Aaron can picture wandering through the city, letting the cluttered roads bring him on something almost like an adventure. He can picture the tranquility of the chaos, the peacefulness of the madness. Aaron wants to see all of this, all the people.

   He smiles at his big sister in a way he didn't think possible. "Sarah, I want to go."

   She hesitates for a long moment. "I'm proud of you, Aaron."

   Shouting and whooping as hard as he can, Hercules Mulligan is almost shaking the floor of his house. He has never been so thrilled in his entire life. The ripped envelope is on the floor in pieces while he keeps hold of his precious letter.

   His older brother, Hugh, laughs over the computer screen. "Bro, it's just a partial scholarship. They're barely paying for anything."

   "Hey, Hugh, look at my face..." Hercules takes a huge pause. "Does this look like the face of someone who cares?! I'm going to one of the best friggin' colleges in all of New York!"

   "You really are pumped, aren't you?" His brother chuckles.

   Hercules wink. "Darn straight, big bro!"

   "You going to go knit yourself a hat with the college's logo?" Hugh teases gently, leaning into the screen ever so slightly.

   His younger brother has a giant grin across his face as he slowly pulls something out of the desk. His brother face palms. "You already made one?"

   "What can I say?" Hercules puffs out his chest. "I knew I was going to get in."

   He slowly plops the beanie on his head, and he winks once more before hanging up.

   Crawling upon the bed, Margarita 'Peggy' Schuyler lets out a huge whoop and falls backwards. The letter flutters upwards along with all of her unruly locks. She grins up at the glow-in-the-dark stars upon her ceiling.

   Then, Peggy turns to stare at her dresser. She points a finger gun at it as if to thank you. All of her prized possessions are on it, things that make Peggy Peggy.

   The props she was allowed to keep are scattered across it. In some vague way, Peggy finds it ironic that it's her assuming a different personality that makes up herself. However, she remembers quite vividly getting every part.

   It feels a little like she feels right now. As if she swallows a dozen butterflies. It's an excited, giddy whirl that she can barely keep ahold of. That feeling that everything is clicking together like a puzzle, and the image is something she never would have dreamed of.

   Peggy creeps to her door, trying her very hardest to contain her excitement. However, a squeal escapes her lips as she suddenly charges out of her room. Time to celebrate with her sisters. Margarita Schuyler is going to college with the two most important people in her life!

   Pulling the bow across the string, Thomas Jefferson lets another musical motif slip off the violin and into the air. It's the only song he cares for right now. He had gotten the sheet music the moment he had heard.

   He's going to New York! His parents might have forced him on that impromptu Paris trip to 'forget' Martha, but what's better than going to New York? Where dreams are made?

   Of course, Thomas never doubted for a minute he was going to New York. The way he anxiously grinds out the anthem has nothing to do with that. Thomas loses himself in the music, letting the music go from prim and proper to almost jazzy, or as much as you can on a violin.

   He envisions the schoolwork and the people there. He envisions smoky cafés, sipping coffee with his best friend, James. He just keeps thinking of all of that.

   One of the notes sours as Thomas pauses ever so slightly. Sure, he might be ready for New York...But is New York ready for him?

   Thomas laughs at his own vanity before returning to his beloved violin.

   'This is the real time', Maria Reynolds thinks, 'that I'm getting out of here.'

   She applies an extra thick layer of lipstick, savoring the future already. Maria tries to capture the idea of all the cute college boys pecking her on the lip. The taste starts forming already upon her lips.

   Maria curls her hair, imagining all of the people she'll meet. There will be all kinds of them. The cocky models, the shy country folk, the gentle confused freshman. Where does she fit?

   Shrugging, Maria happily snaps her locket around her neck. Then, after further hesitance, she rips it off. It slips through her fingers and into the trash can. She already changed her last name from Lewis to Reynolds.

   Once she leaves, there is no way that Maria will ever turn back. She's not coming home because this was never home. It was a prison. She even pulls off the ring her mother gave her. Maria is going to college with people she can care about.

   This time, Maria is never looking back.

   Professor George the Third, because apparently there's two other people who stole his first name, scoffs as he looks over the class list. How are these people even going to do well here? They just...Won't.

   He muses over the immigrants, one from France, which is a pesky country. His ex-girlfriend is there and don't even get him started. Also, isn't three names enough? First middle last. Then, you're done. The other is from the Caribbean, and ugh, last time he went there, his poor skin fried.

   The Schuyler Sisters. He wasn't rid of Angelica either. He had failed her last time. The nerve of that woman, calling him a sexist pig. Or a racist pig. It was one of those. Hopefully, Eliza and Margarita can be respectful or they will fail just like their big sister.

   The Southerners. James and Thomas and John. Three perfectly generic names. George rolls his eyes. Then, he sniggers at the idea of the ridiculous Southern accents they would have. He will call on them a lot...Definitely.

   New Yorkers. Aaron, Jenna, Maria, and Hercules. They probably aren't too bad, but then again, pompous New Yorkers. Ha. Like it's possible to be anything else.

   Samuel Seabury, though, is from Britain too. Instant respect and credit to this kid. Charles Lee, James Brown...There's nothing wrong he can see.

   Except for two James. Which one wants to be the Second? He doesn't believe in nicknames or going by last names.

   George cracks up behind his desk, tossing the papers on. Good luck to the students!