The Other Side - A Jamilton Fanfiction

Chapter Two

His strange eyes narrowed in anger. "Give it back."

"Thom—"

"Give it back," he repeated.

"What does it mean by spells?"

The look of anger disappeared from his gaze and was replaced by a look of utter surprise. "What?"

"Here," I said, flipping through the book until I landed on the page I had previously been on. I scanned the paragraphs until I found the section I had read and pointed it out to him. "These symbols. Don't they say 'spell'? And something about a dead professor named Parrished? And what are these symbols? I've never seem them before! How can I read them? Are they Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics?" Pause. "Thomas?"

He stared at me. "You can read this." It was said as a statement, not a question. He abandoned his original state of shock and began to bombard me with questions. "How? What do you see? You can read this? What are you?"

"I don't— hold on a second. What do you mean, what am I?"

"How can you read this book?" he asked, ignoring my question.

I felt frustration explode inside me like a popped balloon. "What do you see?" I snapped. "Can you read this?"

"Of course I can read this!" he barked back. He yanked the book out of my hands and flipped to a random page before shoving it back in my hands. "Read it. Out loud."

"Uhh, okay?" I cleared my throat, picked a random section, and read it out loud to him. By the time I was done, Thomas was absolutely enraptured. The sudden burst of anger had completely disappeared.

"Do you see the same letters I do?"

"You mean the symbols? Yes."

"Symbols is an interesting way to phrase it. And you can understand what they say? How exactly?"

"Well, I'm fluent in a few other languages besides English. French, for example. Whenever I read French, I can usually understand what it's saying instantly because I've studied the language for years. It's kinda the same with this," I indicated to the book, "but I've never seen this language before."

Thomas took the book back from me carefully. There was silence between us for a second.

"What's it about?"

"Hmm?"

"The book. What's it about?"

"Oh! Uh... just a little bit of... hypothetical situations."

"With magic?"

"Who said anything about magic?" he asked, his eyes studying the book intensely. I wondered if he was reading something or if he was purposefully avoiding my gaze.

"Spells? Counter spells? You can just say you're reading a novel or something. It isn't the end of the world. There's nothing wrong with it."

Thomas laughed and moved to one of the bookshelves. He closed the book and set it down on the wooden shelf, sliding it in between two others. "Novel isn't the right word. But I suppose that's all it is here."

"Here?"

This guy is as insane and as confusing as an enigma wrapped in a mystery.

"Here," Thomas repeated. He had regained his mysterious and aloof nature in a matter of seconds. "Don't worry about it too much, okay? Your classes are probably far more important than whatever is in this book."

I let out a sharp curse. "My classes! What time is it?"

"Six twenty-three."

I let out another sharp curse. "I'm going to be late! I've got to go, okay?"

He nodded. "I'll see you later then. Have fun and don't die."

"Uh, I'll try my best?"

"That's all I can really ask for, isn't it?"

"See you later," I said as I turned and rushed out the door, throwing my bag over my shoulder as I went.

I speed-walked down the street, mostly because running would be impractical in the busy streets of Manhattan (the streets were always busy, no matter how early it was), as I rushed to get to my class.

Finally, I took in the sight of the University of Columbia campus and let out a breath of relief as I checked my watch. Twenty minutes until class began.

I was too distracted in said watch checking, however, and wasn't looking where I was going, causing me to bump into someone.

"I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed, stepping away from the other person. "I didn't mean to—"

"Hey, it's alright," they returned. Their voice had a rather appealing accent. "It's my fault. I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Neither was I," I responded with a slight laugh. I looked up at the other person's face and instantly stiffened.

I knew him. I couldn't place how or why, but I knew him. I'd seen him before.

"Do... do I know you?" I asked rather rudely.

"Hmm? I don't think so. I think I'd remember a face like yours, but I deal with so many people on a daily basis that perhaps I've had the misfortune of forgetting."

I felt my face heat up a little bit. Was he flirting with me?

"Uh, I'm Alexander Hamilton." I offered him my hand.

Something similar to recognition flashed through his eyes. It escaped my notice in the moment that his eyes were very similar to those of Thomas. He smiled and accepted my hand. "George. George Fredericks."