Problems

|| Chapter 12 ||

Tw: depressed thoughts, disordered eating, panic attacks, self hate, Burr being his weird-ass self.
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"Mr. Burr. What are your standings on the Florida gun control change?"

A small man in the back fiddled with his laptop cord, flushing slightly. He was a tad bit taller than Alex (who was he kidding, everyone was taller than him), and was wearing a dark purple sweatshirt, so dark it was almost black.

"Um, well..." Burr cleared his throat and looked up. "What are your outlooks, sir?"

Washington sighed and glanced at the ceiling, with an expression that said, Why is it always me who gets this kind of thing?

"Never mind," he grumbled, and turned to Alex. "Alexander, your insight, if you will."

Alex sat up straighter in his chair. "I believe that there are two conflicting sides, sir. I truly think that the law was a good idea, but now the state of Florida is paying for it with backlash from the NRA. It was passed with good intentions, and I think that it will hopefully start a decline of crime for teens, but ultimately I believe that it won't play as big of a part as it was meant to. Passing this law doesn't stop kids from taking their parent's guns and doing what they want with it. In my opinion, it will help us get to better control, but we aren't completely shutting down the problem just yet."

The classroom was quiet, a bit taken aback from Alex's short spiel. Washington raised his eyebrows and awarded Alex a faint smile, something that he almost never gave. "Thank you, Mr. Hamilton, for voicing that so nicely. I happen to agree with your standings."

In the back, Burr sank lower in his seat and scowled. Alex shot him a sympathetic look, but he just frowned in response. Whatever, Alex thought, and turned back around, re-focusing on the lecture. Washington had now moved onto a different subject and was talking about types of guns and how they worked during revolutionary times. John was scratching down notes next to him; ever since he had missed his essay he was working twice as hard on his schoolwork. Angelica approved, but Alex suspected that John's dad was the object that was giving John drive.

Washington glanced at the clock. "Alas, it seems that our river has run dry." The class stared back uncomprehendingly. "Our time is up," he clarified, and students started putting books into their bags. Alex quickly stuffed his books away and hurried out the door, barely pausing to wait for John, who had to jog to catch up.

"Where are you running off to?" He asked, only half joking, and Alex glanced over his shoulder. "Jefferson," he muttered, and John just nodded. He had given up on trying to get Alex to just ignore him.

Alex was so busy looking for Jefferson that he almost ran over a guy in a purple sweatshirt. "Sorry-" he started to apologize, when the figure turned around and he stopped midsentence. "Oh. Burr. Hey."

Burr raised his eyebrows and his eyes flashed over Alex, taking in his disheveled appearance, with Alex's ratty Converse and his hair in a messy bun.

He smirked.

Burr cleared his throat. "I believe we haven't properly introduced yet." He held out his hand, "Aaron Burr. My father used to be the Headmaster before his untimely passing alongside my mother." A smug little smile had crept up his face.

Alex quickly stuck out his hand, almost dumping his bag onto the sidewalk in his haste. "Alexander Hamilton. Pleased to meet you."

John shifted uncomfortably behind him, then peeked over Alex's shoulder, "Hi. I'm John."

Burr rolled his eyes just the tiniest bit, and Alex got the subtle feeling that this guy would do anything, play anyone, to get what he wanted.

Alex re-adjusted his bag, self-consciously trying to make himself tidier. "So...If you don't mind, can you please move? I have to go to Fiction-Writing in a few minutes."