As a few weeks went by, the lessons in Thomas's classes slid by. Eventually, he had to go to the campus library to study for an upcoming exam. He thought that he could ace it no sweat, but if Jane found out that her younger brother went in to take his very first exam without studying, she'd probably kill him.
Literally.
With a pencil.
Just for the irony of a pencil being the murder weapon.
It's just a better situation if Thomas went to study, that's the point.
He went inside and the atmosphere reminded him of somewhere from a fairy tale. Old book smell and the soft humming from the librarian being the most obvious things that Thomas could point out.
Despite paper being almost useless, large shelves were lined neatly together, creating rows of towering stories. Those seemed way better than the used textbooks in his bag. Paperbacks were stacked next to hardbacks and instead of being completely disorganized and absolutely hideous, it was actually pretty great. Impressive.
After using most of his self-control, Thomas set his bag down at the table that was closest to the shelves. A part of him knew that it was a horrible idea and he'd probably use books as an excuse to not study, but he figured that it was a great exercise in self-control and responsibility that was desperately needed. The musty smell of the books was comforting and Thomas barely opened his textbook before he was ready to wander through the aisles.
Thomas found it harder to focus on his lesson than he was expecting. After a while of rereading the same paragraph at least sixteen times, his eyes were wandering all around the building. Anywhere from the rotting wood to the attractive librarian behind the desk was way more--
The librarian was gone.
Thomas's mind immediately went to what could have possibly happened to the librarian. Abducted by aliens that were interested in the dying paper industry and transforming into a literal bookworm were his favorite scenarios. They were both put to death as someone walked by though.
"Already have an exam?"
Thomas jumped and turned to see the librarian leaning on a rickety metal cart with even more books stacked on top.
"You're taking notes wrong." the librarian started again. He sat down in front of Thomas and pointed to the bullet points scattered around the page. "You need to organize it more."
"And who might you be?" Thomas leaned his chin in his palm and smirked at the man in front of him.
"James Madison, apparently your note-taking savior. Now, bullet points are fine but you really need to have headers that you can put like-notes under so you can take a quick glance to find what you need. Columns also help--"
"Wait, you aren't going to ask who I am?"
"I can't say that I exactly care. You'll also save room if you cut out unimportant words, the ones that really don't add anything other than extra letters and hand cramps. And conjunctions can go."
Something about the man in front of him made Thomas think back to elementary school. Specifically, playing kickball and soccer and basically anything that had to do with feet and sports balls during gym class. Suddenly something dawned on Thomas and his flirtation went to dorky laughter.
"Well if you don't like my methods then you can just say--"
"No, no, I just remember that you used to come to class in the middle of summer with your own box of tissues because of your allergies in elementary school." Thomas almost laughed harder when James's confused face looked up from the notes. "Oh yeah, and you had to sit during gym, and you would read books that nobody'd even heard of. Some kid kicked a soccer ball at your face. That was first grade, I think."
"Wait a minute. . ." James squinted and looked at Thomas.
Jefferson thought he was going to come up with his own fun memory of when they were kids, maybe even throw in a hug.
Instead, James said, "Wasn't that you? That kicked the ball in my face."
"I would never! You don't even know who I am, how can you prove that I did it?"
"The teacher made you walk me to the nurse to make sure my nose wasn't broken, Thomas. I remember the obnoxious grin."
"So you do remember me!"
"Regrettably." James pinched the bridge of his nose. "You know I only moved in sixth grade? Up until that point, you didn't leave me alone."
"So then why didn't you recognize me when I walked in?"
"Mostly because we were ten. Literally eight years ago was the last time I saw you."
"Alright, let's start this again." Thomas sat up straighter and held his hand out over the table. "Jemmy James, haven't seen your face in a while!"
James couldn't help but smile as he shook Thomas's hand. "What brings you up to New York? Did you just come up for the college?"
"Actually, yeah. Jane and Mary go here and they've got the program that I need so here I am, live and in the flesh. Mostly alive, actually."
"Meaning?"
"My sleep schedule has me dead inside."
James made a face that told Thomas to continue.
"My roommate is an absolute snobby asshat. Everything has to go his way all the time. He's always got to stay up at least until two in the morning typing or writing or doing something that's just loud enough to be annoying. I can't remember the last time I got more than six hours of sleep and I need at least eight, man!"
"Sounds rough," James sighed.
"Yeah, I had to get myself noise-canceling headphones." Thomas rubbed his eyes, the mention of sleep making him want to just lay back down and catch up.
"Who do you have, anyway?" James laced his fingers together to form a platform to rest his chin on. He seemed to forget about the cart of books that was sitting next to the table.
"Hamilton. I think his first name was Alexander or something, but I just call him Hamilton whenever I do absolutely have to talk to him." Thomas shrugged, not really seeing the big deal. James on the other hand. . .
"You're living with Alexader Hamilton!?" He screeched.
"You aren't very quiet for a librarian."
"That's good considering I just help out around here. Anyway, how are you not worried about that? Or at least for your own safety. . ."
"What are you talking about? The guy's like two feet tall with the body of a twelve-year-old." Despite the joke, Thomas was suddenly worried. "Why, what happened?"
"You seriously haven't heard?"
"If I had, I wouldn't be asking," he deadpanned.
"Oh. Right. So when I moved up here, I went to the same high school as Hamilton. To say he was sketchy would be an understatement. He came in the middle of like October during eleventh grade, I think, but by the time New Year's came around, the entire school was either afraid of him or respected him to the point of obedience." James shook his head.
"How?"
"He would do these favors for people around the school. It didn't matter what it was or how illegal it was, he'd do it for the right price. Nobody ever tested his limits, though. I don't think anyone wanted to see how far he would really go. That or no one had the money to." Madison leaned in closer across the table and lowered his voice. "Some people say that one of the favors went wrong and someone actually died."
"Alright, I'm calling bullshit. If that were true, how did he get away with it?"
"No clue, I'm just spreading the word on what people think happened. As far as I know, he won't talk about it to anyone. I heard someone ask him about it during senior year and I've never seen a kid so scared.
"Maybe I'll cure your curiosity and I'll ask him. I need to get back anyway," Thomas said as he stood up. James helped him gather the incomplete notes and textbooks. "Thanks for the help. It was nice catching up, Jemmy!"
"Why won't you let that name die!" Thomas heard James yell from inside the building as he left.
He let out a snicker and headed back the way he came to get some information out of his roommate for once.