Philip Hamilton

You're Thomas Jefferson's son, and practically his spitting image, with the same personality, so it was only natural that you hated Philip Hamilton, just as Thomas hated Alexander. You never got along and were always rude to each other whenever you had the chance. Philip always knew you were 'smart' and 'studious' and all that crap, but personally he thought you were boring. Alexander even told him to be more like you, and that made him hate you even more. You'd always been very popular in New York, and everywhere really. For a few reasons; you were attractive, charming, always wore smart clothes, generous, practically a genius, and extremely rich. So many girls were in love with you, and other people your age envied you. You were just... 'perfect.' Even Philip found you attractive, but he'd rather die than admit it.
You were from France. Like your father had you when he was in France. You spoke with a strong French accent, and Philip 'always' made fun of it; he thought your voice was hilarious. He'd say things like, "Speak English, Rain!" or "What did you say, French boy?" And he'd always tease you because you couldn't help it.
You were studying in the library and trying to speak English more clearly. Your first language was French, and sometimes you didn't know certain words.
"H-how can you say that?" you murmured, looking at the book. Then Philip came up behind you.
"It's pronounced 'Anarchy,' what are you, kid? Can't you say simple words?" Philip mocked you