( I 'm sure you 've heard this a million times, but please have patience with me to scan all the text and all the serial. Though there is n't any sex in this, you will get to spellbind 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 story later on, because my reply will be you have n't read the all affair. Enjoy ! )

'' Hey fag ! ``

fountainhead, what a marvelous way to start my first day at a new school. This was going to be a delicacy. Before prying center of jocks and cheerleaders alike I cowered, trying to think felicitous thought. It did n't work. Once the words left the arsehole, the unscathed classroom erupted into waterspout of laugh that turned my grimace florid.

Some did n't laugh. Probably out of respectfulness. Or the fact they did n't find son of a bitch amusing. Whichever it was, I was glad that some people knew my positioning. Joining in the middle of first gear semester, when the ingroup had formed, was the last thing I wanted to materialize. Outcast in this earth of mainstream-ness, chinos, converse and snapbacks, I sheltered in the elusive fact that my imaginary Prince Charming had killed everyone of the laughing asses.

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

In world, I was still gazing at my checkered pumps with the mismatch lacing ; one jet, one pink. The glitter of one of the many irons hanging from my pant caught my attending the way a magpie was attracted to a ash gray patch. My mom called me that.

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

At 15, bisexual, braces, five-seven and completely fucking weird, life was n't going too well. I still had n't made eye contact with anyone in peculiar, but it was my first base mistake in doing so.

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

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

I was born with a genetic variation that has been passed down through my female parent 's side of the kinsperson. It is known as Alexandria 's Genesis. With this condition, my eye started as picket 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 contact lenses. And they cause me a never ending torrent of unhappiness.

Oh, but, they do n't have me any job at all, actually. Not physically anyways. My eyesight is, and will continue to my death, twenty-twenty ; my immune system is one C and ninety percentage more effective than the average human ; I can be twenty to fifty old age longer ; at the age of sixteen my aging rate will slow, then terminate completely when I am forty.

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

My pale, thin complexion, raven mordant hair and lean frame do not compliment it at all. If anything, it looks like and eye tattoo gone drastically untimely. It 's as I 'm telling you this that our coach, Ms Wilkinson, manages to settle down the ragtag and bobtail which I am paying no aid to. Then it happens.

The regretful piece aside my sport. My name.

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

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

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

I then take the chance to gaze up again and watch over my new classmates. None feeling exactly the prissy of chaps, and there seems to be only two cliques of girls ; sluts 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 game row, I see him ...

Light, honeycomb hair, with soft trickle of guttle fatal flowing through the right slope, so sodding and yet uneven, it looked as though mortal had taken a brushwood and painted it into the wan pep. Despite it being tied up loosely, it still trailed down his back, down the rear of his disgraceful shirt. The ivory tie hung loose around a slim, picket neck opening, the collar ivory visible. He appears to be wearing mountain range trousers, similar to me, and shipboard soldier boot with buckle face.

A flatware stud belt glints at me from afar.

And like a magpie to silver, I fell in lovemaking with the Gothic boy, sat third from the left hand, on the back row.

'' You can sit at the back, side by side to philosopher's stone. '' ... that gens ... I almost stumbled forward in my attempt to follow orders, eyes still locked on those enticing bluing sword lily which belonged to the one named philosopher's stone.

A grin crept onto his thin, garden pink lips. Alluring, but frightening too ... screw ... the desks are doubly. I have to sit literally next to him. Whatever god gives a tinker's dam about me, please do n't let me fart or do something stupid ... Please ...

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

'' Hey. ``, I reply awkwardly, slipping into the seat at his side. Please leave the conversation there, I begged him in my mind, delight please delight ... No such fucking promise. Toward me he extended a deal clad in fingerless ignominious mitt ; give thanks god. If he was wearing baseball mitt perhaps he would n't observe how hot my hand was.

Taking the slender finger and strong palm, 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 thing.

Through his right ear was an expander, in the shape of a rose littered with thorns. Naturally thick thong accentuated the brilliant blue angel of his centre, which were shadowed a fiddling by the sweeping side outer boundary, long enough to tie back, but he must have his druthers. Scooping away the honey colored hair and inglorious strays, he kept gazing at me, and I stared compensate back.

His eye were the gob, and I was his hare. I was helpless in those peacock blue oceans, floundering and drowning in their mantrap. I 'm such a lame romantic. Fuck it. Eventually, he seemed to turn over that he had tortured his prey enough, and looked back as Wilkinson began in that scratchy monotone. Though the trapper had left his gimmick, it remained within the cage.

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

One more coup d'oeil at his refined profile, one more hungriness look at those scrumptious sassing with black snakebites and I knew ...

It was definitely love ...