Chapter One
Beep Beep.
Damn alarm. School is annoying. It's a mess for me. I'm always daydreaming about a land I once knew and doodling pictures, so I don't have a lot of friends.
My name is Alice. I'm 17 and in high school.
My hair is cut short and my skin has tanned over the years. My bright blue eyes are full of wonder and I try to keep my body in as best shape as possible. Sometimes I'll get a cat call or wolf whistle, but that's just from desperate guys who are just looking to get laid. Once they get to know me, most men would run and scream because sometimes I randomly start comparing things to Wonderland. It's not like I mean to and I never actually use the word "Wonderland" but most men find it is odd when I start muttering about how cats should be blue and that hatters should celebrate un-birthdays more often.
One thing I will never reveal is my true past. Never have I told anyone about my adventures in Wonderland and I don't plan to. That would be social suicide, inside or outside of high school. Sometimes things just...slip out. I'm already enough of a freak as it is, though I haven't come across any rabbits with stopwatches in years. No random crazy lunatic with an overly large head and an obsession with tarts has tried to kill me since I was seven. That chapter of my life is over.
I only miss Chesh. He used to visit my dreams to keep me updated with all the beings I met, but I haven't heard from him since I was 13. The Cheshire Cat, or Chesh, almost broke my heart when he stopped coming. He was my safe haven from my hectic world and now I live in a world of misery. He is more complex than people know. Chesh is only a cat while he is in Wonderland. If he is in any other dimension or planet, he changes into a human. I try to remember what he looks like, but now only a smoky façade remain of Chesh as a man. I only remember that he has black hair and piercing blue eyes. He still ages, but only from 18 to 29. On what would be his 30th birthday, he turns back into an 18 year old, which is why he isn't married. No woman would want to deal with that.
What most women don't know is that Chesh could make them like him. A few word and bam! You're a cat in Wonderland and a human everywhere else. You live your lives together until the end of time. And if one of you dies, both of you would turn into stars and rush around the galaxy in an endless game of tag.
Unfortunately, women don't stick around to find this out. Chesh was in a horrible mood one day and when I asked him why, he slouched against the tree he sleept in and said:
"My dear Alice, no woman wants to stay with a thing like me. As soon as I reveal what happens as I age, they don't even want to hear about how they could be like me. They just assume that we can never be together and drop me on the spot."
I always felt bad for Chesh because he was such a good guy...cat...thing. He seemed awfully lonely. I know that if I were to be in love with him, I would go to the end of the end of the universe to be with him. Maybe now that I'm older, Chesh will come back. I really miss him and it was nice to have a friend to vent to.
The alarm went off again, interrupting my daydreaming. Grudgingly, I rolled myself out of bed and changed into my school clothes. Today's outfit consisted of a black baby doll dress with gold beading on the chest, gold faux snakeskin heels, and a black hat that was technically meant for men.
I dragged myself into my bathroom and slapped on a black bracelet with gold bows on it and my sterling silver "three wishes" necklace. Opening up my makeup bag, I pulled out sparkly black Lancôme eye shadow and coated it on my eye lids. I sprayed some Chanel "Coco" perfume on my neck and thanked myself for painting my nails beige because they went with my outfit today. At the same time, I was having an internal battle because I didn't want to be like my mother, hoping to change me from a "rebellious teen who lived in la-la land", bought me Chanel beige nail polish so I would become drab and boring like her and my sister. Speaking of which I haven't heard from my moth-
"ALICE! GET YOUR LAZY UNGRATEFUL BUTT DOWN HERE THIS INSTANCE!" Think of the devil and the devil shall scream your name as a command for you to come into the fiery pits of hell. Or in my case, think of my mom and she shall yell at you to enter her room downstairs that she never leaves because she is always hung-over.
"I'm coming woman! Don't get your panties in a twist," I sighed, not even attempting to meet her outrageous volume. Why does she want to see me this early? She usually is still asleep from her wild night or trying to pull herself together.
We moved out of England when I was ten because I kept having "delusions" and blabbing on and on about the "fictitious" Wonderland. She wanted to live in the United States, so I would have a chance to get away from my crazy dreams. Like that helped. My father was the only one who got me. His death was when it all came out, once and only once. My mother thought I was mental, so we moved so I wouldn't damage her reputation by being sent off to the insane asylum. I still talk with a British accent though I use American phrases, like "panties" instead of "knickers."
I trudged down our stairs and flung her door open. "You rang?"
"Yes, I did," she said as she scanned me up and down. "Well, at least you look semi-decent today."
"Thank you," I said calmly, continuing in my thoughts, "—my lovely mother dear because that's what all girls want to hear from their completely hung-over mother who had some random guy over again after a long drunken night of partying and neglecting her only child still in the nest. Maybe today, you'll break your record of how many times you call me ugly."
My mother is boring and ordinary by day and drunk and out of her mind by night. She was probably still a bit hung-over and maybe a tad drunk from last night. My father was killed from a drunk driver hitting his car, so you would think she would be against alcohol, but no. Obviously, we don't see eye to eye. If my mom thinks that if I grow up to be just like her that I will be a proper woman then she is gravely mistaken.
"Don't you have school or something?" she sneered at me. "I'll break your bloody alarm clock if it wakes me again. Now get out of here. I don't want to hear you clumping around like a bloody teenager."
"Gladly," I said, smiling an utterly fake smile. I grabbed my backpack off the floor and left.
