If I had to describe it, I’d say that the stares greeted me first, and the people second. I could just imagine what they were thinking as I walked down the hall that morning, light filtering in through the doorway behind me. New fish, new fish, new fish.

Same ol’, same ol’, I was sure. I get moved around again, I hate the school, I get into a fight, I get expelled, my foster parents get pissed… if worst comes to the worst, new foster parents. Meh. Like I said. Same ol’, same ol’. But boy, was I wrong.

Chapter One: Welcome to Alandra.

So anyways, I walked down the hall, trying to avoid the staring eyes, and eventually found the office. I knocked once, twice, three times, and then the door swung open.

“Come in.”

I came in.

The headmistress was sitting at a polished beech desk, in a large swivel chair, with a pencil in her hand.

“Francis Carlisle?”

I nodded.

“Sit down.”

She was a cheerful old girl, I could tell. I estimated her to be around thirty-four years of age, and guessed she was a bit of a narcissist, due to the many mirrors and portraits of her spread around the room. Still, she wasn’t that unpleasant to look at. In fact, quite the opposite… but, anyway. I was not going there. Tom had tried, Tom being my ex-foster-brother, a couple of years ago to date his Dean in college. After he dumped her she had him expelled. Anyway, she was not my type.

I realized that she was waiting for me to sit, and so I did.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, “a little nervous.”

She seemed to warm up to me a little. “It’s okay to be,” she said. “This is a big step. I am told you have just come from upstate?”

“Yes, my last set of parents split up, so I had to go back to Fortune.”

Fortune was the ironically named orphanage that I was part of. Or rather, had been dumped on the doorstep of because my real parents ‘couldn’t cope’. It was getting on and it was in bad need of repairs, but the people were nice enough.

Anyway, fast forward that meeting, and I was once again avoiding people’s gazes and unspoken jeers as I headed for my first lesson ever at Alandra. Maths. Whoopee. My worst lesson is my first lesson. Worst, first. It rhymes. Worst, first. Worst- okay, okay. I’ll get on with it.

I pushed open the door and stood, completely relaxed, which probably wasn’t the best first impression I could give, but hell, I’d done it so many times before and at that time I was still totally sure of how it would turn out.

“Francis…” the small man in the middle of the room paused for a second as he looked at me, and I felt the heat rising to my head already. “Francis Carlisle?”

I nodded, already mistrusting of the man.

“Class, please raise your hands if there is a spare seat next to you.”

Only one girl did. I walked up the stairs and sat in the space next to her. I saw a couple of others vacant, but I was fine here.

She turned to me as soon as teach’s back was turned.

“Hi! I’m…”

Utterly gorgeous, I thought, cheekily.

“…Ariadne Kane. I…”

She stopped, and then I realized she was staring straight into my eyes, transfixed. Ah, yes. My eyes. Well, long story short, they’re purple. It’s completely natural, 100% toxic-waste-and-superpowers-free. The doctors were worried when I was born with purple eyes, but they found out there’s nothing wrong with me. I did hear someone mention my ancestor Alexandria though… but back to the present.

I blinked, and she snapped out of it.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry… your eyes are just so pretty!”

I blushed. Pretty? This hadn’t happened before.

“It’s natural.”

“You are so lucky!”

And we started talking.

I learned one very clever trick in that lesson- if you tell someone exactly what you are going to do, you are more likely to get away with it (unless you’re a supervillain, of course).

You see, my new friend Ari put up her hand and said, “Sir, can I please get permission to talk to Mr. Carlisle?”

“Yes,” he said. “That’s a good idea. Fill him in on the syllabus and what we’ve covered so far.”

Either he was very stupid, or Ariadne was very smart and he trusted her. It seemed like the latter, because she did actually tell me what they’d done up until now, for credibility’s sake. But in the fifty-five minutes that I wasn’t being told about trigonometry (thankfully, my ‘ace’ section of maths, so no work needed anyway), she and I had some great talking time, and I learned lots about her and vice versa.

She was sixteen days younger than me (happy birthday, I said, being sixteen years and sixteen days old). She disliked cheerleading and jocks. She was on the sports teams for just about everything she could be (I noticed- great figure). She was a ‘popular’, but hated labels. She was a sucker for romance novels and poetry (the book in my bag of my writings may come in handy later). She wasn’t a girly girl, yet nor was she a tomboy. She looked after herself as much as she should, but didn’t let it get in the way of fun.

After class, teach did ask me to relate to him what Ari had told me. Clever girl. I smiled as she brushed past me.

I put my hand in my pocket, and was surprised to find a little folded sheet of note paper in there. I opened it up.

“07934 854 766 -Call me! P.S: Meet me by the big oak in the orchard at lunch.”

I blushed again. No way in hell was I leaving now. Sixty minutes into this school, and I had a friend, and her mobile number!

Well, maybe Maths wasn’t so bad after all.

Second lesson was English, and a sign on the door told me what we were going to be doing- “Bring your creative hats! Writing prose and poetry today!”

My first impression of my English teacher was- fruitcake. But she was very nice, if a touch odd, and she even took us outside, as the weather was ‘too nice not to share’.

“Which of you likes reading stories or poetry?” she asked us, and several of us put our hands up. I looked around. Myself, one boy, sitting across from me, and seventeen girls had our hands up.

“I think we’re outnumbered, friend,” I whispered to the boy, but he just looked away. Maybe he didn’t like purple? I wasn’t going to dwell on it, as I didn’t want to get thrown out now.

“Which amongst you has tried writing their own? Come on now, don’t be shy, keep those hands right up!”

Nine girls dropped their hands. But, strangely, the boy did not. Was it strange? No, actually, it wasn’t. Had I not my own hand up?

“Well, congratulations to you. Now, class, we are all going to try writing something today, previous experience or no. Pick a theme, and run with it. Let your imagination run wild, and then start writing.”

Several boys groaned, but we got down to it. She came over to me.

“Good morning, child. You must be Francis Carlisle?”

“Yes.”

“You have the eyes of a seer, my boy.” For a second there, I thought she was talking about the colour, but she went on, “Very intelligent eyes indeed.”

“Thank you,” I said, and my head bobbed a little of its own accord.

We talked for a while and then I began writing.

“Ten seconds left!” she called. “9… 8… 7…”

I hastily finished the penultimate sentence, and rushed onto the last one.

“4… 3… 2…”

“Done!” I accidentally yelled. Heads turned, and, realizing my mistake, I quickly sat down and shut up.

“1… and stop! Now… will anyone read aloud something of what they've written?”

A couple of hands went up uneasily, mine included.

The teacher looked around at us all.

“I’m going to start with… you.”

She was pointing at me.

I gulped, stood up, and began.

“The rain beat down heavily upon the already-sodden wooden panelling of the cruise deck, and waves roared and crashed up the sides of the boat. The vessel rocked in the stormy waters, threatening to topple at any moment. All personnel on the ship had moved into the relative safety of their cabins. All but two, that is. Caught up in their merriment on the deck, they had failed to notice the storm rolling in and were now stranded. Every step they made towards the doors separating the cabins from the deck was two steps backwards as the boat rocked the other way. Jason, the stronger of the two, had almost made it all the way inside when the fore of the ship ricocheted off of a wave crest. Behind him, Maria lost her footing and was catapulted into the raging tempest below. Without thinking, he dove in after her.”

Applause erupted from my classmates as I sat down again, a little embarrassed, but nonetheless happy.

“Li. You’re next.”

I looked around. And then she stood up. ‘She’ was an absolutely beautiful dark-haired Korean girl with a pencil behind her ear. I notice the strangest things. At once I could tell she was a natural at this.

“Wizened and old as time itself,

Unseeing yet seeing all,

He stands immovable.

He has seen life, and he has seen death,

Seen the young grow into the old,

And wonders what it would be like to follow them.

Cold winter, hot summer

He withstands it all,

A suffering smile etched on his face.

The snows rend life from the world,

Only for it to be reborn in spring.

Life must go on, and he must endure.

Wizened and ancient as the world,

Unknowing yet knowing all,

The Old Man of the Oak rests, forgotten by time.”

Wow. That girl is simply amazing.

Tremendous applause. They were generous with me, but this girl deserves every bit of it. She does a funny little bow and blushes a little, and then sits over by a tree on the edge of the circle.

A boy stands up to read, but is quickly hushed by our teacher as his subject matter goes a little too ‘downstairs’ for school discussion. I’m not really listening, though. I’m still staring transfixed at the girl.

The bell rings, and I jump, startled, and we shuffle back to school. I look around the crowd of faces. Li has vanished.

…Damn.