"Come on, Katherine!"

"Wait..." I stood up, frantically scribbling some last-minute notes into my notebook. Professor Rollins shut off the projector just as my watch beeped, signaling the end of class.

I scampered down the lecture hall steps and joined my friends, Sophia and Oliver, at the bottom. Sophia gazed at me for a long minute, and I fidgeted under her stare.

"Okay, Cathy, I know for a fact that you cannot have as much energy in the morning as you did when you were in class, especially because of the way you ran down the stairs—!"

I cut her off. "Nope, I had coffee blacker than my soul and I caught a few Zs. Besides, you guys know how much I love the class." I adjusted my backpack, draped my arms at my sides, and straightened my back. Be a queen if it makes you feel good.

They bought it almost as quickly as the guilt settled in.

"See you later!" Ollie said, waving as I turned the corner. I waved back.

The hallways are so warm...

As soon as I realized that, the world began to spin a little, and I hugged the wall, staggering over to my next class. But it felt like all the care I had for anything just fell apart.

I needed water. I had eaten only a small breakfast. My stomach ached with hunger, and I hadn't slept at all last night because I was stupid enough to be caught up in a fantastic book.

Sleep, water, water, sleep, sleep... It was almost as if my thoughts were audible, screaming in my ears. Mindlessly, I pushed open the door to the nurse's office, not caring about my next class.

"Hey—¡Dios mío! Are you alright?" Nurse Rolón ran out as I leaned against the wall, my breathing shallow.

"Fine... is there... food?" I asked sluggishly, the words sounding even more stupid as I said them.

"Sí, claro, right this way..." She led me to a bed, gripping my shoulders gently. Sadly, I'd had a lot of visits to her office, so I was accustomed to this behavior.

Sleep, sleep, sleepsleepsleepsleep...

I went into a faint and collapsed into the mattress, my backpack still on my shoulders.

When I woke up, everything felt different. And it wasn't in a good way.

I sat up on the bed and stared at my hands, not realizing I had just fainted. Then the usual process from past years started—recent memories hitting me slowly, like a tidal wave of molasses.

I looked down and yelped, scrambling up onto the bed. The floor was made of hard wood.

Where had the marble gone?

A man came rushing in. "Are you all right, ma'am? You look a little under-the-weather..."

Who says that anymore? I looked at the man and murmured incoherently in shock. What was he wearing?

"Miss, you have to stay in here for another hour."

Do people even dress like that anymore?

"Sir, I-I should be fine." I stammered, still incapable of processing what happened. To prove my point, I slowly got up from the bed.

He gently pushed me back. I stared at him as he pressed his hand on my forehead.

I must be dreaming. "How long was I unconscious, sir...?"

"A few minutes, I think," he said quietly. "Now, rest. And take that red satchel off you as well." He left.

My backpack seemed to grow heavier every second I wore it. No sooner had I taken it off than the man walked back in with a glass—no, a goblet—of water. "Drink up. You've been perspiring frequently ever since you arrived here."

I drank deeply, feeling much better. "Doctor, really, I'm fine. I only fainted from a heatstroke." I smiled, albeit a little weakly.

Much to my surprise, the doctor frowned in confusion. "Pardon me? A 'heatstroke'?"

I stared at him for a long moment. How does he not know what that is?

"Doctor, I'm perfectly fine. I think I must be...new here, so, uh, may I please explore outside?"

He sighed. "If you insist." He felt my forehead again, declared me "well enough", and led me out the ward as I shouldered my pack.

The very first thing I experienced as I walked into a warm, clear evening was the faint smell of something so wonderfully familiar that I immediately felt homesick. My nose told me to go left, past a big building that had people rushing around it, dressed in the same funny clothes as the doctor.

I turned a corner and my eyes went wide. I almost ran towards the place, weaving my way around people who looked at me funny. I could swear I heard whispering behind my back.

If there's no possible way to blend in, try to stand out as much as you can.

I straightened my shoulders and pushed my chest out a little, reducing my jog to a brisk walk.

At last, I reached the coffee shop. Opening the door, the scent hit me so hard that my stomach ached at the thought of having a cup of the stuff.

I looked around. The place was lit by the setting sun, giving off a golden-brown glow that made me relax and smile giddily.

"Evening, mademoiselle."

I jumped and looked at the man who had apparently emerged from a back door. He was tall, dark, broad-shouldered, and smiling. His hair was pulled back into a poofy ponytail, and his dark eyes shone with mischief.

"Er—hello, sir."

"May I ask of you your name?" He had a thick, throaty French accent, complete with a slight drawl.

"Katherine, sir. Katherine Fleming." He reached for my hand, kissing my knuckles.

"Je m'appelle Marquis de Lafayette. And you, Kat-e-reen, look like you need something to drink."

My hand went slack with shock. Did he just say he was...

I blushed and withdrew my hand gently, trying to compose myself. This isn't possible.

Another man—thinner, with tan skin, and about my height—almost fell out of the back room. He shouted something that sounded like, "Mulligan, I will slaughter you!"

Mulligan?

He twisted and saw me. "Oh, who's this?" His face erupted into a bright smile amongst countless freckles.

"Her name's Kat-e-reen, mon ami," Lafayette said.

"Well, that's a lovely name." Another dark man poked his head out from inside the backroom. From what I could see, he was the tallest and burliest. He emerged from the back room, wearing pretty much the same clothes as the others.

"You've got the strangest outfit I've ever seen, honestly." The thinner one said.

I stared down at my jeans and purple hoodie, then took a long look at their clothes. "Same to you."

"Well, I never had the opportunity of sizing you up—you look like you need something strong." He placed his hands on the counter and took a hard look at me. I blinked back. At last, he gave a satisfied nod and started preparing a drink. "I never got to introduce myself, by the way." He flipped the switch for the milk dispenser, and stuck out his hand. "John Laurens."

I reached out to shake it, but his reflexes were quick as lightning. He brought my fingers up to his lips, and the next thing I knew, Lafayette was whistling appreciatively and I was blushing so badly I almost felt dizzy from the emotion. My drink appeared and I took a careful sip.

It was liquid heaven, and I told that to John in a dazed voice, downing half of it in a gulp. He chuckled—a warm, rich sound—and asked for seven shillings.

"Pardon?"

"Seven shillings."

I reached in my bag for a dollar bill, completely nonplussed.

Suddenly John exclaimed, "Here he is—the pride of Mount Vernon!"

Wait, no, no, crap!

I hastily stuffed the dollar bill back into my bag, shock and horror seizing me. I was absolutely determined not to look, and I fished out a handful of coins from my bag: quarters, pennies.

John took the money without a second glance, and I almost sighed in relief as I put my hood up. Quickly I slid off the barstool and into the furthermost table, taking off my hood and letting out my hair from its braid.

George Washington sauntered in, doing a once-over of the place. "Laurens, Mulligan, Lafayette! How are you holding up?"

"Well enough, sir," Mulligan responded, rocking on the balls of his feet. "I believe John's shift is over?"

"As a matter of fact, it isn't yet." John smiled warmly at Washington, who returned the gesture.

The front door opened, and two other men walked in. One of them was a brunette my height, and the other was a bit taller, with much darker skin. They were talking hard.

"I don't think so, Aaron Burr, sir—"

"Are you going to do that to me every time, Hamilton?"

WHAT.

Slowly I pulled out my History book, a sheet of paper, and a pen, thinking right now was the perfect time to finish some homework. (Note the sarcasm.)

"Yes. As I was saying—" Hamilton had a loose ponytail and walked like he was the smartest in the room, which made the darker guy, Aaron Burr, frown slightly at him.

Although the Fourteenth Amendment set forth guarantees for the civil rights of African Americans...

The scratching of my pen filled the calm silence. Hamilton, the brunette, turned towards it. "Who's that?"

I stopped writing, panic seizing me worse than ever before. I took a sip of my drink cautiously, trying to play it off as a regular customer. I was feeling considerably more alert than when I walked in, and tried to listen to every word being said.

"Oh, she's a girl we served just now. Quite... eccentric, if you ask me." Mulligan nodded in my direction.

Washington narrowed his eyes. "Eccentric how?"

"See for yourself, sir."

So that was how George Washington ended up sitting across from me. I accidentally shut my book too hard and fast, making me flinch at the noise. All I could do was stare in pathetic disbelief.

"Hello, there." Washington smiled kindly at me. I blinked, a little stunned to say anything.

"Sir!" I hastily shoved the book into my backpack. I'm sitting next to the fricking President! "Hello..." I almost had to force out the words.

"Might I be so bold as to ask what are you reading?"

My eyes widened. Should I tell him? "Er—just a book of some...memoirs, sir. Personal stories I write for my-my friends. If it's all the same to you, sir, I'd rather not talk about it."

The corners of Hamilton's mouth twitched into a small smile.

He decided not to pry any further on the subject. "Now then, who are you, and where do you come from?"

"My name is Katherine, and I come from..." I figured telling him which state I came from would send him into nearly the same amount of shock as I was in. "It's hard to say, sir." I straightened.

"I see. Your clothing explains everything, Miss Katherine."

"Sir?"

"You come from a strange land where your people are allowed to wear such eccentric clothes that they have a... cloak behind them at all times?" He gestured to my hood.

Wow. He pretty much described 2016 in a single sentence.

"Yes, sir." There was a pause. "Can you please tell me where exactly I am, and what year it is, sir?"

"Have you not been here before?"

"No, sir."

"This is New York City, 1776."

My breath caught in my throat, but I tried my best not to let it show. "Okay," I said in a small voice.

Twenty minutes later, I walked out of the coffee shop calmly, passing a fleeting smile at Mr. Hamilton, who returned the gesture. Hercules, however, noticed the hard glare I shot him as I left.

And Hamilton thought only one thing: Why does she carry herself like a queen?