( I 'm sure you 've heard this a million times, but please have patience with me to read all the text and all the series. Though there is n't any sex in this, you will get to grips with Alice and Elixir. I 'm aspiring to be a novelist and decided to try my hand at this. Please leave constructive criticism and do n't comment saying you do n't get the narrative later on, because my reply will be you have n't record the whole thing. Enjoy ! )

'' Hey fag ! ``

fountainhead, what a wonderful way to start my commencement day at a new school. This was going to be a treat. Before prying eyes of jocks and cheerleaders alike I cowered, trying to guess happy mentation. It did n't turn. Once the words left the asshole, the unanimous classroom erupted into torrents of laugh that turned my grimace florid.

Some did n't laugh. Probably out of deference. Or the fact they did n't find oneself motherfucker amusing. Whichever it was, I was glad that some mass knew my position. Joining in the heart of first semester, when the clique had formed, was the finis affair I wanted to occur. castaway in this world of mainstream-ness, chinos, converse and snapbacks, I sheltered in the insidious fact that my complex quantity Prince Charming had killed everyone of the laughing piece of tail.

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

In reality, I was still gazing at my checkered pumps with the mismatched laces ; one cat valium, one pink. The glitter of one of the many chains hanging from my pant caught my attention the way a scavenger was attracted to a fluent piece. My mom called me that.

'' My fiddling magpie. ``, she used to coo whilst I huddled in her branch. That was a 10 ago, and her quilt was retentive gone. Now, I had to face this world alone.

At fifteen, bisexual, pair, five-seven and completely fucking weird, life was n't going too well. I still had n't made eye contact with anyone in particular, but it was my first mistake in doing so.

'' What the fuck is incorrectly with his eyes ? ``, shouted the mother fucker again.

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

I was born with a transmissible mutation that has been passed down through my mother 's side of the syndicate. It is known as El Iskandriyah 's Genesis. With this condition, my eye started as pallid lilac-blue when I was born. During pubescence, they darkened to royal purple, but now, they are rich plum tree in color. It looks like I 'm wearing contact crystalline lens. And they cause me a never ending torrent of unhappiness.

Oh, but, they do n't cause me any problem at all, actually. Not physically anyways. My seeing is, and will remain to my death, twenty-twenty ; my immune organization is one C and ninety percent more effective than the mediocre homo ; I can live XX to fifty years longer ; at the age of sixteen my aging rate will slow, then end 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 reward by a evenhandedly mile.

My picket, thin complexion, raven Negroid hair and lean physical body do not compliment it at all. If anything, it looks like and eye tattoo gone drastically wrong. It 's as I 'm telling you this that our tutor, Ms Wilkinson, manages to calm the rabble which I am paying no attention to. Then it happens.

The unfit part aside my mutation. My name.

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

'' Alice ! ``, returned some of the assholes, chortling with unmerciful laugh.

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

I then take the prospect to stare up again and observe my new schoolfellow. None look exactly the dainty of feller, and there seems to be only two inner circle of girl ; sluts and goths. What the roll in the hay ? 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 back row, I see him ...

Light, honeycomb hairsbreadth, with fragile trickles of prey Shirley Temple flowing through the right side, so utter and yet uneven, it looked as though someone had taken a light touch and painted it into the pale ginger. Despite it being tied up loosely, it still trailed down his rachis, down the rear of his black shirt. The ivory tie hung loose around a slim, pale cervix, the shoe collar bones visible. He appears to be wearing chain pant, exchangeable to me, and marine boot with bent sides.

A silver scantling belt spark at me from afar.

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

'' You can sit at the back, next to philosopher's stone. '' ... that name ... I almost stumbled forward in my effort to follow orders, eyes still locked on those enticing blue devil iris which belonged to the one named elixir.

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

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

'' Hey. ``, I reply awkwardly, slipping into the nates at his side. Please leave the conversation there, I begged him in my mind, please please please ... No such fucking Bob Hope. Toward me he extended a hand clad in fingerless dim baseball glove ; thank god. If he was wearing gloves perhaps he would n't notice how hot my hired man was.

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

Through his right ear was an expander, in the human body of a rose littered with prickle. Naturally thick-skulled eyelash accentuated the brainy blueing of his optic, which were shadowed a little by the tangle side fringe, long enough to tie back, but he must receive his preferences. Scooping away the love colored pilus and black strays, he kept gazing at me, and I stared right back.

His eyes were the ambush, and I was his rabbit. I was helpless in those aquamarine oceans, floundering and drowning in their mantrap. I 'm such a lame romantic. Fuck it. Eventually, he seemed to see that he had tortured his quarry enough, and looked back as Wilkinson began in that scratchy monotone. 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 enjoy ? Or just my way of describing ineptitude ?

One Sir Thomas More glance at his refined profile, one Sir Thomas More longing looking at at those luscious lips with bleak snakebites and I knew ...

It was definitely love ...