Okay okay, exposition, explanation, concentration, humiliation. I will explain to you how I look, just so you know.
I'm quite plain, so I thought. One of my eyes was of a chocolate brown hue; so dark that it was difficult to locate my pupil. My other was a chilling moonstruck blue, from an accident earlier in my life. More on that later.
I'm tall and lanky, and I pretty much only ever wear long clothing, because it seems to suit me just right... Not atheletic, not particularly intelligent, or lovely like some girls. I have thin, pale skin stretched over my frame, and a scar slicing through my eyebrow.
Fluttering over my face is my long, thin black hair, which was constantly in my eyes, all the time. My hair was always straight, but fell into a natural wave down my back, and spilling over my shoulders.
I had a smile. A good smile. My smile seemed to easily make others return it. I liked that. It was familiar. To me, I suppose.
I should probably explain what this story is going to be about. It's about me, plain me, getting looped into a tragedy, in which most of the time, I'll be left with a blushing face, and a tight frown. Oh yes, this is a teen story, about a boy. What a miracle. Well, this is me, my name is Luka, meaning Light, for my one blue eye. This is my story. Read it. Stop now, and you may regret it, baby.
((You can just SEE the winky-face at the end of the last sentence.))