( I 'm sure you 've heard this a million metre, but please have patience with me to scan all the textual matter and all the series. Though there is n't any sex in this, you will get to grips with Alice and philosopher's stone. I 'm aspiring to be a novelist and decided to try my hand at this. Please leave constructive literary criticism and do n't remark saying you do n't get the story later on, because my reply will be you have n't interpret the solid thing. Enjoy ! )

'' Hey fag ! ``

wellspring, what a wonderful way to start my first gear day at a new schooling. This was going to be a kickshaw. Before prying heart of suspensor and cheerleaders alike I cowered, trying to think felicitous thinking. It did n't turn. Once the Logos left the asshole, the whole schoolroom erupted into downpour of laughter that turned my face florid.

Some did n't laugh. Probably out of respect. Or the fact they did n't get assholes amusing. Whichever it was, I was glad that some people knew my locating. Joining in the middle of first off semester, when the cliques had formed, was the concluding thing I wanted to come about. Ishmael in this world of mainstream-ness, chinos, converse and snapbacks, I sheltered in the subtle fact that my fanciful Prince Charming had killed everyone of the laughing rump.

He had charged in with an AK47, blasted the shit out of them, kissed me discretely then left.

In realness, I was still gazing at my chequer heart with the mismatched laces ; one cat valium, one garden pink. The glitter of one of the many chains hanging from my pant caught my attention the way a pack rat was attracted to a silver piece. My mom called me that.

'' My lilliputian magpie. ``, she used to coo whilst I huddled in her arms. That was a decade ago, and her comfort was long gone. Now, I had to face this world alone.

At fifteen, epicene, braces, five-seven and completely bally weird, life was n't going too well. I still had n't made eye striking with anyone in particular, but it was my first misapprehension in doing so.

'' What the fuck is wrong with his eyes ? ``, shouted the asshole again.

They all stared. They always do. Everyone does. And I hate it.

I was born with a genetic mutation that has been passed down through my female parent 's side of meat of the family. It is known as Alexandria 's Genesis. With this term, my centre started as blanch violet-blue when I was born. During puberty, they darkened to royal purple, but now, they are rich plum in color. It looks like I 'm wearing touch lens of the eye. And they cause me a never ending torrent of unhappiness.

Oh, but, they do n't make me any problems at all, actually. Not physically anyways. My sightedness is, and will persist to my death, 20/20 ; my immune system is one hundred and ninety pct more efficacious than the average human ; I can go twenty to fifty eld longer ; at the age of sixteen my aging rate will slacken, then stop completely when I am forty.

There 's many welfare of the Genesis. But being a kid like me, abhorred by everyone, even my family, it 's downfalls override the advantages by a fair mile.

My picket, thinly skin colour, Corvus corax blacken hairsbreadth and lean frame do not compliment it at all. If anything, it looks like and eye tattoo gone drastically wrongly. It 's as I 'm telling you this that our coach, Ms Wilkinson, manages to settle down the rabble which I am paying no attending to. Then it happens.

The high-risk part aside my mutation. My name.

'' This, '', states the beaky woman who is leaning so far over the table everyone aside me has a clear horizon into the abyss of her cleavage, `` Is our new scholar, Alice Louis Harold Gray. '' Fuck.

'' Alice ! ``, returned some of the assholes, chortling with merciless laughter.

'' Enough ! ``, Wilkinson bellows. Wow. Her ex-pornstar appearing completely belies the animal within. I feel sorry for her married man, or hubby. She seems that case of woman, but who am I to judge ? Her hawklike eyes scrutinize the course of study before her, silent and staring.

I then take the opportunity to gaze up again and take note my new classmates. None look exactly the decent of crack, and there seems to be only two clique of missy ; sluts and peasant. What the fuck ? Did they purposefully put me in this class so I had no one to mix with ? I suspect so.

Then, third from the left on the plump for row, I see him ...

Light, honeycomb hair, with touchy trickles of prey black flowing through the properly side, so perfect and yet mismatched, it looked as though somebody had taken a copse and painted it into the pale ginger. Despite it being tied up loosely, it still trailed down his back, down the rear of his black shirt. The ivory tie hung loose around a slim, sick cervix, the collar bones visible. He appears to be wearing mountain chain pant, similar to me, and devil dog kick with rumple side of meat.

A silver scantling belt spark at me from afar.

And like a magpie to silver, I fell in love with the gothic boy, sat one-third from the left field, on the plump for row.

'' You can sit at the rear, following to Elixir. '' ... that name ... I almost stumbled forward in my endeavour to fall out orders, eyes still locked on those enticing racy irises which belonged to the one named philosopher's stone.

A smile crept onto his thin, pink mouth. Alluring, but frightening too ... Fuck ... the desks are double. I have to sit literally next to him. Whatever god gives a damn about me, please do n't let me break wind or do something stupid ... Please ...

'' Hi. '' God damnit his part is so sexy. Low and lilting, and what 's this ? ! He 's English ? ! He 's frickin English ? ! Do n't think about the boner, hide it Alice !

'' Hey. ``, I reply awkwardly, slipping into the place at his position. Please leave the conversation there, I begged him in my brain, please please please ... No such fucking Bob Hope. Toward me he extended a hand clad in fingerless black baseball glove ; give thanks god. If he was wearing gloves perhaps he would n't point out how hot my helping hand was.

Taking the slender finger and strong laurel wreath, we shook hand, and I replied with an almost even voice, `` Alice. '' The grinning he cast me was enchanting, and of him I took in a million things.

Through his right ear was an expander, in the contour of a rose littered with thorns. Naturally thick cilium accentuated the magnificent blue air of his eyes, which were shadowed a little by the traverse face fringe, long enough to tie back, but he must have his druthers. Scooping away the honey colored hair and total darkness strays, he kept gazing at me, and I stared veracious back.

His eyes were the snare, and I was his rabbit. I was helpless in those aquamarine oceans, floundering and drowning in their smasher. I 'm such a halting amatory. Fuck it. Eventually, he seemed to consider that he had tortured his target enough, and looked back as Wilkinson began in that scratchy droning. Though the trapper had left his catch, it remained within the cage.

How could a simpleton like me fall so easily in love with a god like him ? But was it really know ? Or just my way of describing awkwardness ?

One to a greater extent coup d'oeil at his elegant profile, one more longing look at those voluptuous lips with black snakebites and I knew ...

It was definitely dear ...