Okay, this is my first fanfiction! Also, be warned; I have no beta-reader, terrible spelling, and horrible grammar! So, if someone could beta-read, that would be helpful! Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and I like reviews! *WINKWINK* Anyway, onward!

Disclaimer- Um, please?

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I, 15-year-old Alex Rider, absolutely hate my life. Why, you might ask? Well, let's put my life into a list, shall we?

I'm a teenage spy, yet I don't want to be one.

My family is dead.

My last friend is away and won't be back until September.

Everyone in school hates me.

My only friend and guardian, Jack, can be deported at any moment.

As you can see, it isn't all that good to be me.

Alex reread the small entry he had just written on the computer and sighed. Man, did his life absolutely stink. He didn't want to think about or even write about it, but he had to. Why? Well, he had to write it all down, so that later in his life, when he ran away and when Jack was finally gone, he would send it to a publisher and go into hiding. He slowly began to write.

My life has been a hard one that no one should live. The excitement that I have faced was always laced with danger, and I often times wished I could end it all. Though I could never bring my self to actually do it, but I have no idea why. Maybe it is because I want to bring out the legacy of my father and uncle, or perhaps it is because I know that I would bring sadness into the hearts of all my friends. Or I might be just plain insane!

Alex stopped and looked at what he had just written with a smile.

I think I should begin with my uncle, Ian. My uncle raised me ever since I was about one year old or since the death of my parents. Ever since I could walk, Ian had been training me. Though, at the time, I had no idea what for. I loved my uncle- even if he wasn't always there for me.

"Alex?" The call echoed up the stairs.

"Yes, Jack?"

"You have to go to school, Alex."Alex groaned, saved what he was writing, and closed his laptop. He stood, shoved it in his bag, and then hurried down the stairs.

"Bye, Jack!" Alex rushed out the door and into the cool London air. He grabbed his bike and began to pedal towards Brookland High, his school. He passed his best mate Tom's home while looking sadly at the house; Tom's parents were in the middle of a nasty divorce so Tom was staying with his older brother, Jerry, until it was over in September. So now, his only friend at school was gone.

Alex rode the rest of the way with a heavy heart guessing what would become of today, and he was, in a way, correct, but nothing like that would prepare him for what was coming next. When Brookland came into view, he slowly sneaked in, chained his bike with the rest of them, shouldered his bag, and made his way up into the school. Once in, he ignored the disgusted looks, nasty comments, and the whispers and slowly made his way to his locker.

Only when he finally remembered the combination to his locker and opened it did he see the damage. Someone had dumped flour into his locker, along with a note that read:

You don't belong here, druggie.

Alex grabbed his books, shoved his bag in, and slammed his locker shut. Then, he slowly went to his homeroom and began to wipe off his books while ignoring the annoyed looks that Mr. White was giving him. Alex sighed and walked over to his desk and dropped his head into his hands trying not to fall asleep, for that would evoke the nightmares that kept him up have the night.

Alex was fully aware of every passing minute and every single whisper until finally he couldn't take it; instead, he dropped to get his notebook and pencil case, so that he could at least begin the short story assignment that wasn't due until the end of the month. He quickly pulled out the notebook he kept all of his drawings, stories, and other random junk in. Yet, his pencil case wasn't there.

"Alex," He looked up and came face to face with Rachel Kassen, one of the most popular girls in the school.

"Yes?" Alex snapped.

"You dropped this in the hallway." She shoved his black pencil case into his hands.

"Oh, um, thanks." He felt sorry for snapping at her. "S-sorry for snapping at you." Rachel just nodded and spun on her heels, causing her brown hair to fly around her. Alex sighed, opened his pencil case, and shoved his hand in only to jam the palm of his hand into something incredibly sharp. With a hiss, he pulled his hand out only to find it covered in blood and flour.

He dumped the contents out and out came flour, empty pill bottles, needles, razors, and another note.

Leave rider! No one likes a druggie!

Alex looked up to find the teacher gone and the rest of the students looking at him, some in shock and pity; others were holding back chuckles. He then looked at the bleeding gash on his hand. It wasn't too deep, but it still stung a lot. He stood and made his way to the door where he ran into Mr. White.

"May I go to the nurse?"

"Oh why? Feeling sick again?"

"No, I'm not ill."

"If it doesn't involve either blood or bodily fluids, then no." Alex could barely hold in his annoyance- why would he go to the nurse if he wasn't injured?

"I cut my self, sir," he said calmly, wishing the teacher wasn't so blind, so that he could see the blood dripping from his hand and onto the tile floor.

"Oh?" Alex raised his bleeding hand and Mr. White's eyes briefly widened. "Y-yes, I-I see!" He stepped aside, and Alex hurried off to the nurse.

Mrs. Meera, the nurse, looked up as Alex opened the door. "Yes?" She asked him, noting his pale features. "What can I do for you, sweety?"

"I, um, cut myself," he said lamely, holding his hand up. Mrs. Meera gasped and quickly stood, letting her brown curls fall over her face. She grabbed his hand, causing him to hiss in pain.

"Sorry, dear." She led him over to the sink where she ran his hand under the tap. "How on earth did this happen?"

"I had an exact-o knife in my pencil case from my last social studies project, and I forgot I had it in there."

"Hm," She replied, luckily not asking about the flour. She bandaged it, signed a pass, and handed it to him. "Don't forget to take that thing out!" Alex nodded with a small smile. "Oh, and I want to see that hand at the end of the day!" she called after him.

"Yes, ma'am!" He closed the door, made his way into his homeroom, handed Mr. White his pass, and made his way to his desk, which was totally clean. He looked around, confused, and then sat down and grabbed his book SEVEN TROOP by Andy McNab. Alex began to read, thinking that the teacher must have cleaned off his desk.

When the bell finally rang, Alex didn't get the chance to thank Mr. White for it; the teacher had gone to the office for a second so Alex slowly made his way to English when he made a shocking discovery.

His pencil case was switched back, and this one held all of his things in it with no flour or blood. Second his black, private notebook was gone- the notebook that was like his Journal.

His notebook that mentioned MI6.