I’ve heard some stuff. but I haven’t gone out of my way to sit thru it all. It’s like Terminator movies. I know I should watch them but I haven’t gotten around to it

You did not just compare the history of our great nation to the Terminator franchise.

Haha

BEN. The entire album is on YouTube for free. You need this 142 minutes and 13 seconds in your life.

Pls tell me you had to google how long the soundtrack is

You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.

Ok. if I agree to try it, can I call you back?

PUT IT DOWN IN WRITING.

Do u have a middle name?

Arthur JAMES Seuss is not interested in your changing the subject.

I promise I’ll try out Hamilton for mega fanboy Arthur James Seuss

I’m shaking my head and smiling when Arthur calls me back. “I’m sorry I had to hang up on you,” he says. “But Hamilton is very serious business.”

“I get that now.” I’m staring at my ceiling and I really wish he was here.

“Good. Because I don’t want to hang up on you again. Not my finest moment.”

“If you do, I’m going to write you into my story and kill you off.”

“You’re writing a book?!”

“It’s never going to be a real book, but it’s a story I’m trying to finish for me.”

“Is it our epic story?”

“No chill. You have no chill.”

“Nope. So what’s it about?”

I hesitate, like I’m about to not be cool enough for him. Cool is the thing I feel like I’ve had going for me. It’s not brains, it’s not money. But coolness has been my plus. “You’re going to make fun of me.”

“I sang you a song about a rat.”

“Good point.” If Arthur takes away all my cool points and can’t embrace my nerd-ness, we’re not going to be a good match anyway. Loving the same things I do is really important for me this time around. In my former squad I was the mega nerd, and I wish they were as into things as I get. Like how Hudson took a week to read Harry Potter and the Cursed Child and I was done within six hours. Or how they’d shrug off my suggestions for fun group costumes like Super Smash characters or Hogwarts students.

“It’s a fantasy book. The Wicked Wizard War. My character, Ben-Jamin, is the chosen one in this war between wizards.”

“I want to read it,” Arthur says. “Right now.”

“Really?”

“It’s you in a world of magic. Of course.”

“It’s really nerdy.”

“I like nerdy and I like you. Has anyone else read it?”

“Literally no one.”

“I have to have this.”

“What if you don’t like it? What if you don’t like it so much that you no longer like me?” I’m not trying to get canceled right as we really sync up.

“This is impossible. Trust me.”

It’s weird how it’s easier to trust Arthur than it is to trust people I’ve known way longer. Like Dylan and Hudson and Harriett. My parents. It’s not even that it’s kind of low-risk because I’m not sure how long Arthur will even be in my life—it’s more that I’m counting on knowing him for a long time and I want him to know the real me as soon as possible.

“Okay, I’ll let you read it, but I got to warn you. You’re right that this is me in a world of magic. Which means Hudson is a character too. I get it if you don’t want to read that.”

Arthur goes quiet, and here is where he’s going to jump ship. To write about someone is so personal, even in a world with fire-breathing children and flying dragon services, and a lot of the good stuff between me and Hudson is there. I don’t know if that’s going to be hard for Arthur or not.

“If you’ve written about Hudson, maybe this means I’ll pop up in the story one day?” Arthur asks.

“Let’s see how nice you are about the book.”

“I’m going to be the most generous critic.”

“And the only.”

“That’s me. The one.” Arthur pauses. “I have an idea.”

“Yeah?”

“You listen to Hamilton while I read The Wicked Wizard War.”

“Deal.”

We get off the phone.

I can’t believe I’m attaching The Wicked Wizard War to an email that I’m not just sending to myself. I really hope Arthur genuinely likes it. I’ll know he hates it if he just tells me he thinks Ben-Jamin is hot or that my chapter titles are cool. I hit send and cross my fingers.

I go to YouTube and get Hamilton going.

I press play, and I’m going to be really real here: I don’t know who Alexander Hamilton is. I mean, I googled him earlier this year because I thought he was a past president and Ma corrected me, which embarrassed me even though the only other person in the room was Pa. But I’m not sure I still have a handle on what he’s done. If you’re not a superhero or a sorcerer, my memory is bad at retaining any information about you. But as I lie on my side, reading the lyrics of the first song as it’s playing, I’m immediately pulled into Hamilton’s story.

And Arthur is into my story. He texts me after reading about Ben-Jamin getting his powers during a snowstorm and how he already wants The Wicked Wizard War to be a movie so he can buy Hot Topic shirts and Ben-Jamin Funko Pops. He’s being overly generous, but I really love it when he keeps texting me favorite parts. It’s all the scenes that were really cool to me and I wasn’t sure if they would be cool to anyone else. I really like hearing which parts have him laughing and which ones get his heart racing. It’s the greatest ego boost. Like maybe I have it in me to entertain strangers too.

And for the next couple hours, we keep texting each other our favorite parts. Hamilton not throwing away his shot as Ben-Jamin rejects his destiny. King George sending a fully armed battalion to remind the colonists of his love as Enchantress Eva predicts tragedy for a ragtag group of wizards. Hamilton rising up as Ben-Jamin rides into battle on a one-winged dragon. The Schuyler sisters getting me helpless as Arthur loses it over Ben-Jamin getting drunk with Duke Dill. History’s eyes and coming of age in their young nation and making a million mistakes. Flirty touches and first kisses and hearts that turn out to be wrong.

Arthur reaches the end of everything I’ve written, where Ben-Jamin is fighting some monsters in a glass town, and he wants to talk, but I can’t pull away from the tension between Hamilton and Angelica Schuyler, or Hamilton being a dumbass and cheating, or Eliza’s haunting song and shit just getting super real that I can’t believe I’m so caught up in something that happened centuries ago. Then “It’s Quiet Uptown” comes on, and wow, I’m about to cry, and by the end of it I press pause and call Arthur.

“You’re not done yet,” Arthur says. Of course he knows where I’m at in the musical.

“I’m calling it quits. This shit is getting too sad.”

“Oh yeah. ‘It’s Quiet Uptown’ is brutal. But you have to finish.”

“Okay. Will you stay on the phone with me? It’ll be easier for me to yell at you if this gets sadder.”

“My pleasure.”

I wait for Arthur to sync up with me and we press play at the exact same second. I close my eyes, listening to the last twenty minutes, and it feels like Arthur is right beside me.

“Wait, is Hamilton going to die here—”

“So Burr—”

“No spoilers!”

“It’s history!”

“History that I don’t know.”

And the gunshot goes off.

“Burr is a bastard,” I say.

“Hamilton really wasn’t all that great himself—”

“No commentary!”

The last song comes on and a tear finally breaks through. The longing in Eliza’s voice as she sings about aching to see Hamilton again, and wow, I loved every second of this.

“Whatever Hamilton fans are called, Arthur, I am one of them.”

“You’re not just saying that? You’re not obligated to like it, though you would be wrong not to.”