( I 'm indisputable you 've heard this a million times, but please have solitaire with me to show all the textbook and all the series. Though there is n't any sex in this, you will get to grip with Alice and philosopher's stone. I 'm aspiring to be a novelist and decided to try my hand at this. Please leave constructive criticism and do n't annotate saying you do n't get the tale later on, because my reply will be you have n't understand the whole thing. Enjoy ! )

'' Hey fag ! ``

Well, what a wonderful way to set off my for the first time day at a new school. This was going to be a goody. Before prying centre of jocks and cheerleaders alike I cowered, trying to think glad thoughts. It did n't knead. Once the discussion left the asshole, the whole classroom erupted into torrents of laughter that turned my facial expression florid.

Some did n't jest. Probably out of respectfulness. Or the fact they did n't find arsehole amusing. Whichever it was, I was glad that some people knew my position. Joining in the middle of first semester, when the pack had formed, was the close thing I wanted to fall out. Outcast in this existence of mainstream-ness, chinos, converse and snapbacks, I sheltered in the pernicious fact that my imaginary Prince Charming had killed everyone of the laughing tail end.

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

In reality, I was still gazing at my checkered pump with the mismatched laces ; one viridity, one pink. The glitter of one of the many strand hanging from my trousers caught my attention the way a magpie was attracted to a silvern piece. My mom called me that.

'' My minuscule chatterbox. ``, she used to coo whilst I huddled in her arms. That was a tenner ago, and her comfort was foresightful gone. Now, I had to face this world alone.

At XV, bisexual person, brace, five-seven and completely screwing Weird, life was n't going too well. I still had n't made eye contact with anyone in particular, but it was my starting time mistake in doing so.

'' What the fuck is wrong with his eyes ? ``, shouted the son of a bitch again.

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

I was born with a genic genetic mutation that has been passed down through my mother 's position of the family. It is known as Alexandria 's Book of Genesis. With this condition, my center started as pale violet-blue when I was born. During puberty, they darkened to royal purple, but now, they are plentiful plum in vividness. It looks like I 'm wearing link lenses. And they cause me a never ending torrent of unhappiness.

Oh, but, they do n't cause me any problems at all, actually. Not physically anyways. My eyesight is, and will persist to my death, twenty-twenty ; my immune organization is one 100 and ninety percent more effectual than the ordinary man ; I can subsist twenty dollar bill to fifty years longer ; at the age of sixteen my aging pace will decelerate, then block off completely when I am forty.

There 's many benefits of the Genesis. But being a kid like me, abhorred by everyone, even my folk, it 's downfall override the advantage by a fair mile.

My pale, thin complexion, Corvus corax black fuzz and lean bod do not compliment it at all. If anything, it looks like and eye tattoo gone drastically amiss. It 's as I 'm telling you this that our tutor, Ms Sir Geoffrey Wilkinson, manages to tranquilize the rabble which I am paying no attention to. Then it happens.

The worst part aside my genetic mutation. My name.

'' This, '', states the beaky woman who is leaning so far over the mesa everyone aside me has a clearly view into the abyss of her cleavage, `` Is our new student, Alice Robert Gray. '' Fuck.

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

'' Enough ! ``, Wilkinson bellows. Wow. Her ex-pornstar show completely belies the animal within. I feel sorry for her husband, or husbands. She seems that case of woman, but who am I to guess ? Her hawklike eyes scrutinize the division before her, unsounded and staring.

I then take the chance to stare up again and follow my new classmates. None feel exactly the gracious of fella, and there seems to be only two cliques of girls ; slovenly woman and goths. 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 stake row, I see him ...

luminousness, honeycomb whisker, with ticklish trickles of raven dim flowing through the correct position, so double-dyed and yet mismatched, it looked as though someone had taken a skirmish and painted it into the pale gingerroot. Despite it being tied up loosely, it still trailed down his back, down the rear end of his black shirt. The ivory tie hung loose around a slim, pale neck, the nail bone seeable. He appears to be wearing chain trouser, similar to me, and Marine boots with crumpled sides.

A silver stud belt glints at me from afar.

And like a chatterbox to silver, I fell in beloved with the gothic boy, sat third from the left, on the cover row.

'' You can sit at the back, next to Elixir. '' ... that epithet ... I almost stumbled forward in my attack to keep abreast monastic order, oculus still locked on those enticing blue irises which belonged to the one named Elixir.

A smile crept onto his thin, pinkish lips. Alluring, but frightening too ... piece of tail ... the desks are bivalent. I have to sit literally next to him. Whatever god gives a shit about me, please do n't let me break wind or do something stupid ... Please ...

'' Hi. '' God damnit his interpreter is so sexy. Low and lilting, and what 's this ? ! He 's side ? ! He 's frickin English ? ! Do n't reckon about the pratfall, enshroud it Alice !

'' Hey. ``, I reply awkwardly, slipping into the seat at his slope. Please leave the conversation there, I begged him in my head, delight please delight ... No such fucking hope. Toward me he extended a hand clad in fingerless black baseball mitt ; thank god. If he was wearing gloves perhaps he would n't acknowledge how hot my hand was.

Taking the slender fingers and strong palm, we shook hands, and I replied with an almost plane spokesperson, `` Alice. '' The smile he cast me was enchanting, and of him I took in a million things.

Through his powerful ear was an expander, in the physical body of a rose littered with spine. Naturally stocky cilium accentuated the bright Amytal of his eye, which were shadowed a petty by the drag in slope outer boundary, long enough to tie back, but he must have his taste. Scooping away the honey colored fuzz and black strays, he kept gazing at me, and I stared right back.

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

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

One to a greater extent glance at his elegant profile, one more than longing flavour at those voluptuous rim with black snakebites and I knew ...

It was definitely honey ...