So yes, I'm one of the latest Andrew-Lee Potts fangirls jumping the fan-wagon due to Alice. I spent the past two weeks watching *every* episode of Primeval, and I'm still not tired of watching him. Had this idea for a little while, but not sure how to execute it. hope it goes over well with you few readers out there. :)

Usual disclaimers apply.

She wasn't a loud person. She wasn't the life of the party, she wasn't quick to add her opinion; she considered herself to be observant. Yes, she did have a reputation of saying a few slutty things things here and there, and even though she had just turned fifteen the other day, she'd had her fair share of "boyfriends" over the past year or so. As much of a boyfriend as you could have in middle school, she thought wryly one day.

Still, she was the quiet bookworm in the back of the classroom, silently willing each day to go by faster and faster so as to escape the hellhole that was high school. She would rather keep her nose buried in her book during class and then toss around a few insults in the halls and cafeteria.

Her father had disappeared a mere five years ago; she still hadn't quite gotten over it, and she doubted that she ever would. Her mother had looked into trying to find him, but private investigators and missing-persons-finding cops were expensive. And so they plunged on with life, taking it by the horns, day by day.

She lived in a flat with her mother so she could go to a school in Manhattan designed for New York City's best and brightest. Even still, she found herself getting bored and lost in thought every day instead of finally feeling that challenge she had been promised not only in the brochure but by the numerous faculty members and teachers that they had encountered when they were first looking at the school.

Thankfully, she didn't have to give up her love of martial arts. There was a dojo right near their flat (3 blocks south, 2 blocks west, to be exact), and that was were Alice made a few friends. Currently, however, she was more worried about finally securing her black belt - the dojo had let her keep her belt rank instead of making her start over, and after a grueling four years, she was nearly ready to test for her black belt.

This was Alice Hamilton in a nutshell. Fifteen years old and had a hidden spunkiness about her, with a killer mouth to boot. Alice found it amazing, her mouth, especially since she hadn't lived in New York City her entire life. She used to live in a quiet suburb of Albany before moving to the Manhattan flat.

"Ms. Hamilton?"

Alice shook her head, turned away from the window, and looked her English teacher, Mr. Tompson, square in the eye.

"For once, you're not reading," he noted. This elicited a few giggles from her classmates. She glanced over at her best friend, Jack Hart, and he just smiled reassuringly back.

"It'll be alright," he mouthed and then turned his attention back to the open book in front of him.

"Yes, Mr. Tompson?" Alice asked, thumbing the edge of the copy of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland that she had to borrow from the school.

"I was asking if you could add anything to our discussion of Charles Dodgson's alleged sexual interactions with Alice Liddell, the little girl that Alice in Wonderland was based off," Mr. Tompson prompted.

"Oh, um," Alice stammered. She hadn't realized they would be discussing Lewis Carroll's - sorry, correction, Charles Dodgson's - private life.

Knuckles rapped sharply against the hard wood door. Immeadiately, the entire class went from staring at Alice to the door.

"I would say that you've just been saved by the bell, Ms. Hamilton," Mr. Tompson said. He stood up from the edge of his large desk and opened the door to Ms. Barnes, the ninth grade guidance counselor, and a boy wearing the most ridiculous outfit on the planet. It was crazy, even by New York standards, where even Lady GaGa could pass for being dressed acceptably.

Alice was too busy staring at the hat in his hands in wonder to register what he was wearing. From what she glanced at, it was like a matched, modern version of a '70s clubbing outfit. But it was the black fedora in his hands that he was twisting around nervously that caught Alice's attention. Keeping her vow of not befriending new kids, she turned her attention back to her book.

"David Hatter," she heard someone say as the occupied the empty desk next to hers. Glancing up, she saw him looking extremely nervous and out of place with his hand stuck out awkwardly. Seeing that she wasn't going to openly accept his handshake without a good reason as to why she should, he withdrew his hand.

"Alice," she replied curtly, turning back to her book.

Mr. Tompson got the new kid up to speed, handing him a tattered copy of Alice, and then resumed his discussion with Alice.

"I don't really know anything about their relationship," Alice admitted.

"So you admit that you didn't do the research notes I assigned two nights ago to do in preparation for today's discussion?" Mr. Tompson countered, his arms folded across his thin chest.

Alice rolled her eyes. Nobody did them. That's why the discussion was going nowhere. "No, sir, I did not do them. I also do not know anything about the relationship between Alice Liddell and Charles Dodgson."

Next to her, she could hear the new kid snicker. What was already a very long day was about to turn more arduous for Alice. Sighing, she ducked back into her book, attempting to memorize the song the Mock Turtle sang after telling his story to the girl who fell down the rabbit hole.

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