The school vaguely reminds me of one of those high-security-type prisons you see on television, with the wrought-iron bars, white plaster walls, and sharp edges. I swear, I'm not exaggerating. 

It seriously looks like an old prison turned into a school.

Iron gates surround the fortress of doom; obviously designed to lock the students inside. Two sections of said fence have been pulled open to allow buses and cars in and out. As we pass one of the openings, I look back over my shoulder and stare at the fence -overwhelmed with a troubling sense of being caged.

My mom pulls to a stop and reaches over, patting my knee. "Good luck. Remember, to stop by the office and get your final schedule." 

I wave her off and climb out of the car. As I walk towards the front-most building, an old, withering rectangle of white with dirty windows, I adjust the straps to my backpack and my new, coral-colored shorts -which have been slowly riding up into my crotch.

Instead of following the other arriving students through the four doors in front of me, I turn right, into the front office.   

"You must be the new student." A mousy girl with milk-chocolate skin and thick glasses smiles hesitantly at me.

I blink at her as the door clicks shut behind me. She steps forward, holding out a small slip of paper.

Reluctantly, I take it from her and glance it over; the words, 'Final Schedule', are printed in large, bold letters on the top. I spare another glance at her and realize she's still standing in front of me, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet  -waiting for me to say something.

I bite back a sigh. "I'm Alice." 

"I know." Her lips stretch into a sheepish grin. "I snooped." 

"So I see." I keep a placid expression on my face and start towards a nearby door. I hope it leads to the courtyard. Footsteps sound behind me and I look back,  inwardly cringing when I see the mousy girl padding after me -her mouth moving. "I'll be your friend for the day and show you around. My name is Miley."

I pause in the hallway and turn back to face her, eyebrows kitting together in a silent question. 

"Yes, I know." Miley sighs and shakes her head. "But I can't sing nor am I famous. And my last name is no where near close to Cyrus." 

"Pity." 

Miley snorts. "I know right? My friends used tell me I am like her darker twin. At least, that was before she lopped all her hair off and dyed it..."

Nodding, I zone out as she prattles on and follow her. She leads me out into the courtyard, a vast expanse of concrete with little patches of grass and giant palm trees and benches. In the center of it all, sits a large elegantly designed fountain -spewing streams of water from the mouth of an alligator.

"The school mascot." Miley points to the fountain and lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "The Hampton family donated it. They are one of the richer families; they live up in the older part of town." 

"Fascinating." I try not to sound sarcastic as my gaze travels around the courtyard, taking in all the idiots I will be schooling with. 

Groups are scattered about, mostly huddled under the steel awning connected to the entrance of the cafeteria. Several sit at the picnic tables dispersed around within the covered area and others are crowded around inside the actual building. I don't realize Miley has looped her arm through mine -at least not until I find myself diving head first into a sea of strange looks. I almost run over several unfortunate souls. 

"This is the cafeteria." Miley states the obvious, as she drags me into said building. "My advice? Don't eat the food. It's quicker and safer to bring stuff from home." 

I make a soft humming sound to let her know I heard her. 

A loud buzz blares through the air -akin to the sound an air horn would make if you accidentally rolled over onto it while sleeping. I wince and look up and Miley pulls at my arm. "That was the bell. Your first period is this way; come on." 

I let her drag me out of the cafeteria and to a building to our left. Other students lazily mope about, in absolute no hurry to get to their classes, and I adjust the straps on my shoulders. My stomach churns a little, almost like the bitter thoughts inside my head. Everyone here already knew everything; they know where to go and they know how long it takes to get to each class. It makes me a little homesick. If I was still been in my old school I would be the same way: calm, lazy, and incredibly tempted to skip class. 

Miley drags me through two glass double doors and almost immediately, a cool rush dances across my skin. Lockers line the hallways, colored the lovely shade of throw up green, and excruciatingly bright fluorescent lights illuminate the long stretch of white tile in front of us. 

"Here's the your English class." Miley points to one of the many doors, which are propped open. Some even have a teacher standing in front of it, each wearing a bright smile on their face.

Except for one. 

He stands in front of the door Miley is pointing to and sports a grumpy troll like appearance. Short, squat, and hair fraying around the edges; his eyes are narrowed, the dishwater colored orbs glued to my face. 

I stare at him. "I'm Alice." 

"I feared as much." His voice is raspy and laced with years of smoking. No one moves for a few moments and I glance over to Miley, uncertain. She shifts awkwardly, gaze directed somewhere else. The troll barks, "Well, are you going to get inside or spend the period staring at the walls?"

Suppressing a smart remark, I smile at him and bid Miley goodbye. She scrambles down the hallway like a child who'd just been scolded. I walk inside the classroom and pause for a moment, taking in the room. Plain white walls, decorated with several Garfield posters and a single red bulletin board, and a good ten or so rows of plastic desks. There are already several students lingering around several desks, but no one that I really know. 

"Don't go too far, Miss Wonderland." The troll surprises me and I jump a little, spinning around to look at him. He wags a thick finger my way, "You need to introduce yourself to the class." 

Oh how cliche. He's going to make me stand in front of the class and talk about myself? Great. Most of the time, new students just sort of appear in a desk in the back of the room. You never really know them unless you befriend them. Or they become part of the popular crowd, but then everyone knows them. 

They never have to stand in front of the classroom though, and give a speech about all the horrible things that have happened to them lately.

"Wonderland?" I swallow the urge to throw a book at him. 

"Oh, that's right. Your generation doesn't read books anymore." He half grumbles under his breath. 

I scowl at him. "Not true! I love Lewis Carroll."

Something flashes in his eyes, a hint of suspicion and a small twinge of surprise. But he doesn't say anything else, instead directing his attention down the hall. I let out a huff and move a little closer to the neatly organized desk centered at the front of the classroom. I peek at my schedule really quick and find the troll's name: Mr. Fisher.

Nobody really looks up when the bell rings, but they all rush to their seats like musical-chairs contestants when the door clicks shut. The teacher stands in the doorway for a few moments, his hand curled around the knob. 

He stares at me silently, with a bored look on his face. 

A thump sounds behind him and the doorknob jiggles. Through the long rectangular window, I can barely see a flash of startling blue and ink. 

Mr. Fisher makes a grunting sound and turns around, conveying pure innocence as he opens the door. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there." His voice sounds almost sickly sweet and he steps aside to let someone inside.

The boy squeezes past him, a sour look on his face. 

I almost throw up. That pop-tart that had started to make itself comfortable in my stomach suddenly lurches upwards, threatening to make a second appearance in my mouth. I swallow thickly and force my gaze to move somewhere else. Though, I can't help but look at him.

He's like a magnet.

All eyes are glued to him; to the strong set to his jaw, the slight cherry color in his cheeks -presumably from running, and the gentle twinkle in his bright azure colored eyes. He wears a dark sports coat -a nicely fitted black leather- and a plain white tee beneath. 

"Thank you for joining us, Mr. Hampton." Mr. Fisher starts walking towards his desk and, for the first time since entering the classroom, Blue Eyes's signature orbs land on little 'ole me.

Mr. Fisher lets out a wet cough and glares at us, at least until Blue Eyes tears his semi-surprised gaze away from my face and towards him. The teacher makes some sort of gesture that I don't catch and I watch, borderline obsessively, as he slinks back towards one of the desks in the back and slumps into it. 

Blue Eyes slides down and makes himself comfortable, eyes once again finding my face. 

"You may introduce yourself." Mr. Fisher states. 

I make a funny face and grumble under my breath, "Sitting down sounds like a much better option." I didn't really intend for anyone to hear me, but a few snickers sound and Mr. Fisher narrows his eyes at me a bit. 

Huffing, I flash my captivated audience a saccharine smile. "I'm Alice. No, I cannot see the future, nor am I related to any Edward Cullen. And," I struggle for something else to say about myself. "I'm not sure what else to say."

"What do you do in your free time?" Mr. Fisher lets out an almost exasperated sigh. I don't understand it; he is the one making me stand up here. 

"You mean when I'm not weeping over the massive amounts of homework I always seem to have?" 

He glares at me full on now. I can feel it. I can feel the intense 'struggling to create a laser from his corneas' look boring into the side of my face. I simply smile innocently at him, though, until he points out a seat near the windows and I am free to sink into it. Once my butt hits the cold plastic, I chance a glance towards Blue-Eyes. He sits on the opposite side of the classroom, now leaning forward slightly with his chin resting against his palms. I can just barely see his lips, which are pressed into a wiry smirk.

Something burns the tips of my ears. I pull out a notebook, and try to smother the smugness that swells up inside of me. I made him smirk. 

I am amusing to the boy with the beautiful blue eyes.

Wait a minute.

Why do I care if I made him smirk? 

The smugness is rubbed out with a giant metaphorical eraser and I shove all thoughts about the stupid boy into a drawer at the back of my mind. I am not going to do this; I am not going to start this school year smitten over some boy with sparkly eyes. It is only trouble. I can't do this, not here, not when I plan to move back home the second I turn eighteen. I've heard so much about long distance relationships, and it's not really good.

Besides he probably has a girlfriend already --scratch that, he does have a girlfriend. I chance a look at him once more and resist the urge to shake my head. There is no way in hell this boy could be single. 

Which means he is off the market. And I can't have him.

So, with that resolution firmly rooted in my mind, I force myself to stare at the front board for the rest of the class period. He no longer exists. He is gone from my mind. 

Boom. 

No more mental chaos inside my head. 

The bell rings and it takes every bit of my will power not to jump up like I'd just seen the biggest bug on the face of the earth. I take a deep breath, try to smother the day-dream of Blue Eye's crossing the bridge just to talk to me, and gather my books. Staring at my schedule intensely --though the only thing I can see is the scene playing out behind my eyes, where Blue Eyes tells me to wait once I've reached the door and we talk and then make millions of beautiful babies-- I make my way to the door and step out into the fray. 

Blue Eyes doesn't call me back.

Disappointment hits me like a tidal wave and I stand there, in front of a locker, struggling to read my schedule, for real now so I can get to my next class. Stupid boys and their stupid ability to get your hopes up over something that could never actually happen. 

I am grumbling incoherent curses against the male species when a familiar voice breaks through my concentration.

And I look up, directly into the prettiest blue eyes I've ever seen.