Chapter Text
Alexander Hamilton was 17, and honestly, he felt like he was getting way too old to still be dealing with this. Once again, he was sitting in the back of a social worker’s car, getting driven to yet another foster family’s house. He had about just under a year left until he was 18 and could age out of the system, and that day could not come soon enough.
Alex had been in the foster system since he was 12 when his mom died. In the last 5 years he had been through over 15 different homes, and obviously none of them had stuck. His social worker did try, but apparently just not enough. Most of the homes he had gone into ended up saying they couldn’t handle Alex and had him taken away. ‘Couldn’t handle Alex’ was really code for ‘he won’t let us abuse him and therefore we don’t want him’. Alex had been in his fair share of verbal and physical fights with foster parents. He could handle strict rules and a mountain of chores, but he would not let himself be abused which often led to these altercations.
Despite being moved around so much, Alex stayed on top of his schooling as best he could, and for him, that was actually pretty good. He was a high school senior but across the board his mind was probably more advanced than that, and he did his best to ensure he had the schooling to prove it.
Alex had even found a way to get himself a steady cash-flow that he could keep up with no matter where he went so long as he had access to wifi and his laptop. Alex had an online business writing various things for people for various fees. He wrote an assortment of things, essays of any kind, poems, short stories, anything his customers wanted really. Most of his clientele were college students having him write papers for them, and he was able to charge them fairly steep prices, because if they tried to raise hell about it what could they do about it? Report him and admit they were looking to cheat and plagarize? At times it could be hard to keep up with his commissions if he was in a foster house that didn’t give him wifi access but he always managed somehow with the help up free public library wifi or if he was feeling a little extra generous with himself, free coffee shop wifi.
So it was safe to say he was pretty self-sufficient, which only made him hate being stuck in the system more. He had worked real jobs before, but it was tough staying at one job while he moved all around the city and had to most often, rely on public transportation. He had no doubt that he could care for himself if given the chance, but unfortunately, he wasn’t getting given the chance, so he would just have to wait another 11 months until he was 18.
“Alexander?” The social worker spoke after being quiet for a while.
“Yes?” Alex asked, although he already had a pretty good idea of what the social worker was going to say. He didn’t bother to look up at her, instead picking at a string on the sleeve of his flannel shirt. He regretted using his only hoodie to wrap his laptop in for safe keeping, because he was fairly chilly, but he couldn’t make money without his laptop if it were damaged, so he would have to suffer. He was wearing black joggers, a black graphic t-shirt, and a red and black flannel, with his beat up, knock-off navy blue converse and his jet-black hair in a sloppy folded ponytail.
“I had to call in a favor and pull on some heart strings to get you into this house. Your average amount of time in a home is about 4 months, and I know, some of the placements you’ve been in have been really poor matches, but I really do think this house could be the one for you.” The social worker began.
“If it is then why didn’t you try this 5 or even 3 homes ago?” Alex asked, somewhat bitterly, looking over at her with his constantly calculating, brown eyes.
“This couple are friends of friends of mine whom I’ve had the pleasure of meeting on a few occasions. They have a foster license that’s still good but they haven’t exactly been open to taking in a new kid for a while.” The social worker paused. “They agreed to take you in after I explained that they really are your last shot, Alexander. I mean it, if this home doesn’t work out, it’s into a group home and with your history of violence, I don’t know how nice of a place I’d be able to get you into.” The social worker explained. She didn’t mean to sound harsh, but she couldn’t lie to Alex either.
“Why’d they stop taking kids in?” Alex asked, seeming a bit sketched out by that detail, which was probably more than fair.
“Well they really only got the license so they could care for the child of family friends. The parents died and asked the kid to be left with this couple but it was an international thing which was a lot of paperwork and took a while. They’ve adopted the boy now, he’s about your age. They just didn’t want him ending up in the system here or the kid’s home country.” The social worker explained to Alex.
“Great. That’s just great.” Alex mumbled. In his experience, most of the time, biological kids or adopted kids were always favored and in most cases were exceptionally rude to their foster siblings.
“These are good people, Alexander. Just, please, please try and make this one last?” The social worker practically begged.
“It’s not my fault I don’t want to be abused.” Alex said bluntly.
“Well I think it’s safe to say you’re not going to be abused in this home. These are good people, a politician and a lawyer, the husband is even a military veteran.” The social worker sounded pleased to announce to Alex.
“Great, that’s just great.” Alex mumbled, thinking about the cop that had pulled a gun on Alex for raising his voice and the doctor that had- the doctor that had been less than an ideal foster parent, proving that a job was in no way a good indicator of character. Now he was probably gonna get stuck with a super republican family that would fundamentally hate everything about him and send him away in no time at all.
The social worker sighed a bit and fell silent again. They drove to a fairly well off area of town, just on the edge of the city. Soon they pulled up to a large white colonial style house with a roofed-in porch that started in the front of the house and wrapped around the side to the back. The roof was black and the door was red, the snow had all been shovelled neatly, and Alex could see a little tin shed housing firewood on the side of the yard, near the fence. The driveway was an elongated half circle shape, making pulling into the driveway and out of it fairly easy as one could pull right through. The yard was big and everything about the property screamed that these people must’ve had a fair amount of money, not that Alex needed to see the house to be able to figure that out if the couple was a lawyer and a politician.
“Alright. Here we are.” The social worker said as she parked the car at the top of the driveway and turned it off.
Alex grabbed his bag, a small duffle that contained everything he owned in the world, and got out of the car, following the social worker to the door of the house. He watched the social worker ring the doorbell and waited for the door to be pulled open.
The woman who pulled the door open was nothing like what Alex had expected, and it honestly made him wonder if he hadn’t maybe gotten ahead of himself a little. He was expecting a stone cold, emotionless, white woman with long, straight,- probably greying- blond hair, who would hate Alex’s immigrant ass and wouldn’t let him speak Spanish ever. She would be slim and would obviously be trying to hide any signs of aging her face might’ve given away. She would be dressed snobbily and would act nice until the second the social worker left.
Instead, the door was pulled open by a black woman who smiled warmly at Alex and the social worker, and just by looking at her face, Alex could guess that that warmth was legitimate. She was curvy, and didn’t seem too old, but also didn’t seem like she was trying to hide any aging either.
“Mrs Washington, hello.” The social worker smiled back.
The woman, Mrs Washington, spoke up. “Hi. Come inside, it’s pretty cold out there.” She held the door open wider for Alex and the social worker.
The social worker stepped inside the house and Alex began to follow, thinking, trying to remember why the name ‘Washington’ was so familiar to him. He mentally ran through ideas like, an old neighbor, actor or actress, or- “Wait, Washington?” Alex asked, seeming surprised. “As in, Martha Washington? State Governor?” He clarified. Martha Washington had been the Virginia state governor for the last year and was making a lot of good, progressive changes, and perhaps most importantly to Alex; she was a democrat.
“That would be me.” Martha nodded and chuckled a bit. “But you can just call me Martha.”
Alex nodded a bit to himself. He wondered if maybe there wasn’t a chance this could work out- for the briefest of seconds. Every time he had thought that before the home turned out awful, so it was best to not even try anymore. Martha was doing good things in office, and had a squeaky clean public image, but so did many foster parents, and as Alex would know from experience, a squeaky clean public image meant nothing behind closed doors.
“Unfortunately you just missed seeing George, he went out to pick up our son from school and get some groceries.” Martha told the social worker.
“It’s alright. Most of the paperwork is completed already anyway. I can leave what’s left with you and you can fax it to my office once you and George get the chance to fill it all out.” The social worker said and handed Martha a folder from her bag.
“Alright, thank you.” Martha smiled as she took the folder.
“Well Alex, are you good now if I go?” The social worker asked.
“Yeah. I mean, there’s nothing left to do here anyway.” Alex shrugged, whatever happened once she left was gonna happen anyways, it was simply a matter of when to him, and he figured he might as well have gotten it over with.
“Alright. Just, please try and remember what I said in the car just now.” The social worker told Alex and left.
“So Alexander, why don’t I show you around a little? Just take your shoes off and you can just leave your bag near the stairs here and grab it when we head up.” Martha suggested.
Alex nodded a bit, kicked his shoes off, and set his bag down, then followed Martha around the house as she showed him where everything was. She explained that they always took shoes off in the house to keep things tidier so they wouldn’t have to mop the hard-wood floors or carpet clean the carpets as often.
The house was as large on the inside as it looked on the outside and had an attached 3 car garage. Her and her husband both had their own offices on the main floor, in addition to a formal dining room, and an open-concept living room, kitchen, and kitchen nook space towards the back of the house. The second floor consisted of her and Mr Washington’s bedroom, Alex’s foster-brother’s room, his new room, and 2 more guest bedrooms as well as a large main bathroom. The 3rd floor/attic was mostly used as entertainment space for Martha and George’s son to entertain friends which Martha explained to Alex rather than showing him. She also explained that they had a basement that was mostly just used for storage.
The last thing Martha showed Alex was the room he would be staying in, ending the tour there. It was easily the largest room Alex had ever stayed in, even counting ones he’s shared with other kids. The walls were a soft grey, and a double bed with a dark-wood bed frame which had an attached headboard and footboard was set up with a thick white comforter in the corner furthest from the door. Across from the bed on the same wall as the door was a desk that matched the wood of the bed and some floating shelves the same wood color as the bed were set up above the desk. The carpet was the same cream color as the rest of the upstairs carpeting. The closet door doubled as a mirror that was on the wall opposite the head of the bed tucked into the back corner of the room and there was another door on the same wall as the closet closer to the door to the room.
“Through that door is your bathroom. It’s got a stand-up shower, so if you want to take a bath you’ll have to use the main bathroom across the hall.” Martha explained to Alex.
“Wait, my bathroom?” Alex must’ve heard wrong. He’d never gotten his own bathroom that he didn’t have to share.
“Yes. It’s an ensuite, not even a jack and jill. Our son, Lafayette has an ensuite, as do George and I.” Martha told Alex.
“Wow.” Alex mumbled, he couldn’t think of anything else to say while his mind wondered how many strings were attached to this huge room and private bathroom.
“Why don’t I leave you to unpack for a while until George and Lafayette get home?” Martha suggested.
Alex nodded. “Yeah, sounds good.” Alex told her.
“I’ll be in my office if you need anything.” Martha told Alex, giving a warm smile, and then left his room.
Alex closed the door behind Martha. It didn’t have an actual lock, but there was a chain on the door, so it was better than nothing. He put the chain up and set his bag down on the bed. He pulled his flannel shirt off and left it on the bed. He pulled a couple of things out, to make it look like he was unpacking, then grabbed a specific pair of socks from where he’d wrapped them in one of his three t-shirts.
Then he went into the ensuite and locked the door behind him. The bathroom walls were a yellowy beige color with light browny-grey tiles, a decent size counter- with marble white, brown, and grey countertops, which was a huge bonus- around the sink, and fair size stand-up shower with a glass door.
Alex turned the water in the sink on so that he had some noise coverage just in case and unravelled the socks, careful to not let what he was hiding in the socks fall out onto the floor.
Hidden in the socks was a tiny ziploc bag of white powder, along with a razorblade, and a neatly rolled up single dollar bill that was used for this purpose so often, it stayed neatly rolled without Alex needing to try and keep it that way. He cut himself two neat lines of the powder on the countertop, which was easy to do, seeing as it was stone, and snorted both in rapid succession. He was going to need the boost if he had yet to meet Mr Washington and the Washingtons’ son, not to mention that his body had been screaming at him for his next fix since he arrived at the Washingtons’ house.
Alex had never meant to get addicted to cocaine, and he had tried to get clean, but it was hard to do alone, and he had to admit, he liked the way it made him feel. It made him more confident, more alert, and usually made him feel happier, plus it suppressed his appetite which might sound bad, he knew that, but he couldn’t really care much less at this point. Another plus was it increased his body temperature, so he wouldn’t feel so cold while on it.
What Alex did was take the money he made writing each week, meet up with his dealer, got the amount he’d figured he’d need the week, and then the rest went into a savings account where it would say until it came time to pay university tuition for next year. Occasionally he would buy himself some other things if he really needed them, but he didn’t like to because coke was expensive and college was even more expensive so he tried to not spend money on much else.
Alex turned the water off, packed his coke and tools back up in the socks and went back out into the bedroom, he put the clothes he’d pulled out back in his bag and set it at the foot of the bed. He pulled out his laptop and opened his email, looking for his next writing job. He responded to a couple requests before hearing a car pull up, so he set his laptop back at the bottom of his bag and slowly made his way back downstairs to meet Mr Washington and his new foster brother.