Did I miss-spell Friday in Spanish? Probably.
Am I going to check my spelling?
No
Did I ace Spanish last year in school?
Yeah.
Does that matter?
Nope.
And I a 15 year old white girl?
Sadly.

So, it was finally Friday, weeks are far, far too long in my opinion, and the weekends are far far too short.

I know most Sophomores have jobs, but, please just let me gripe about mine for a second, and I apologize in advance because I truly have an amazing job. Ok, so, Friday's are tough. I've been working my butt off all week, and then I finally get home Friday afternoon, and then I have 2 hours at home, then I have to go to work. Before anyone gets on me about this, I get it, I only work for about an hour, but, it's generally kind of hard, there's a lot of people there, and everyone seems kind of rushed.

Anyways, you've probably guessed this, but I'm at work. Well, technically I have 3 minutes before Tim the house manager opens the door and let's the fans in like a pack of wild wolves. I was sitting cross-legged on top of my merch counter, on my phone, because, this may come as a shock to some you, I am a teenager.

I got off of the counter as Tim opened the door, and everyone started getting their tickets checked, then coming over to the various stands, many to mine.

"Hi!" A little girl skipped over to my stand, she was probably 10 or 11. She put her arms up on the counter, even through her head barely passed it.

"Hi." I replied, smiling.

"Can I have a Schuyler Sisters shirt?" She asked, pointing to a shirt on display behind me.

"Of course sweetheart." I said, smiling, and grabbing one off of a stack.

"Lily!" I saw a women run over to the little girl, who I assume was her mom. "You can't run off."

"Sorry mom." I heard Lily whisper.

"It's ok." Her mom replied, as I bagged the shirt for Lily. Her mom handed me the cash to pay for it, and without waiting for her change shuffled her daughter into the house. I laughed a little, then turned my attention to the next person in line.

"Hi!" I greeted cheerily.

"Hey." The lady responded.

"Can I help you with anything?" I asked, smiling.

"Of course not. I stood in line to say hi." Wow. The sarcasm is strong in this one.

"Good point." I laughed a little, "they pay me to say that." I admitted.

"They pay you?" She asked, genuinely curious.

"Yeah, this is my job." I shrugged.

"You're Abigail Miranda right?" She inquired.

"Yep, that's me." I giggled, and she rolled her eyes.

"Okay, your quote unquote dad pays you to do this?" Ouch. That kind of hurt.

"Yeah, Lin pays me." I was a little confused.

"Ugh, he really shouldn't, but, before you hold the line up any longer, can I have a mug?" She asked, and I silently began wrapping the mug in paper. "And can I say something?" She asked, and I nodded. "I know you came from abusive homes, I'm from one too. And to be honest, the way you dealt with it disgusts me." I finished wrapping the mug, and without looking up, grabbed a bag. "I dealt with it by myself. I didn't cry to the media. And I most certainly didn't leech off of someone else's money and fame."

"$28.40." I said softly, and she handed me 30 dollars.

"You think what happened to you makes you special. You're wrong. A lot of people go through that, unlike you, they aren't over-dramatic cry babies. It also makes me fume that you're making such a big deal about it by shoving yourself into someone else's family and using their hard earned money and fame." I handed her her bag and her dollar 60 in change.

"Enjoy the show." I said softly, still refusing to make eye contact. With that she left, stalking off into the house. I managed to make it through the remainder of the hour and once it was over I sat back against the wall. I didn't cry, I didn't sleep, I didn't go on my phone. I just sat there and thought. I sat there for 3 hours.

I was more or less confused. No one else had people saying things like that about them. Why me? The theatre fandom had always been extremely supportive, why was I an exception?

When the show ended, I managed to get backstage, and I waited for Lin by the stage door.

As I was sitting there, I saw mail fall on my lap. Our mail guy, Frank was standing next to me.

"Fan mail." He explained, and started off.

I looked down at it. I mean, it was addressed to me.

Abigail Miranda
C/O Richard Rodgers Theatre
226 46th Street W NY
10036

There were 2 letters there. 2 people took time out of their day to write a letter to me. 2 people I didn't know.

"Whatcha got Niñita?" I looked up to see Lin standing by me, with his backpack on, ready to leave.

"Fan mail?" I said, sort of questioning it.

"Awe." He smiled, "this is the first time isn't it?" He asked, and I nodded. "Well. That's really sweet of them. Come on, let's go."

"Ok." I sighed a bit, standing up.

"Hey, you ok?" He asked, prior to opening the door.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just tired." I said, half lying.

"So, what you're saying is that you're too tired to walk?" He asked, and cut me off before I could say no. "Take my backpack. He handed me his bag, which I swung over my back. "Hop on." He said, bending down to let me jump on his back.

"Seriously?" I asked.

"Niñita, tú eres mi hija, ¡salta!" He said, I swear this man switched between English and Spanish too much. I laughed a little, then hopped on his back, wrapping my arms around his neck, and my legs around his torso. "¡Fantastico! ¡Vamos!" He said, opening the stage door, to a mass of screaming hamilfans.

He managed to sign autographs for a good 20 minutes with me on his back. Which also means I was in all of the selfies people got with him. I finally got off his back when we got to the car. I swear, this mans a nut. I hope he actually likes me. I hope I'm not as obnoxious as that lady made me out to be.

•••
Q&A! Yay! Alrighty!

Q: Why are you so insistent on being a horrible creepy weirdo?
L: Well, I wouldn't say I'm insistent on being a horrible creepy weirdo, but I guess I'm one because, I mean, she's hot man. Like, boys will be boys.

Q: Why are you gross?
L: I'm gross because the last time I showered was last week.

Q: Why do you hurt Abigail?
L: I think it's less me trying to hurt her, but trying to help myself. Her getting hurt is kind of like a side-effect.

Q: Have you ever hurt anyone else?
L: I killed my sisters pet hamster, does that count?

Q: Favorite color?
L: Navy, dark blue. Thanks for asking.

Q: Favorite Animal?
L: Wolf. They're fierce.

Q: What do you want to be when you grow up?
L: Hm... I would say a dancer. That's why I'm at Beacon, I'm a dancer.

Q: What compels you to treat Abigail/girls the way you do?
L: The fact that females are very good looking, and well, stuff happens. Am I really to blame here?

Q: What the heck man? You can't even get a girlfriend, so you dare touch the magnificent and beautiful Abigail. No just no. Why do you do this?
L: Like I said before. She's really attractive and I mean, she's just, accessible, honestly. Also, I could get a girlfriend if I tried, but this is way easier.

Q: If Abigail died in a tragic accident, would you mourn her or at least say 'I'm sorry for your loss' to Lin?
L: Okay. Are you planning on killing her? Never mind. Um, I would be upset that she's gone. Definitely, I don't hate her. I just don't respect her. If Lin would let me offer condolences, I would.

Q: DIDN'T YOUR PARENTS EVER TEACH YOU NOT TO HURT A GIRL?!
L: Yeah. They also taught me not to kill hamsters, not to do drugs, not to lie, not to drink and not to steal. I don't really listen.

•••

Okay! There's Luke! Questions still open for:

Nick

Abigail's friends

Mr. and Mrs. Walter

Misc.

Thanks for reading!!

- Abi