Hey! I originally posted this chapter without an author's note, which looked kind of strange on a mobile device. Yes, this is my first fanfic ever, and I'm really excited to become a part of this amazing website filled with so many fandoms and feels! Of course, none of the characters are mine, as they belong to the lovely Cassandra Clare. I wish they were, though. The things I'd do to Jace… Okay, let's keep this part clean. I'm open to all reviews and criticism, so please don't be shy! If my writing just so happens to absolutely suck, tell me so I can get it fixed. I'm planning on switching POVs. throughout the story, and this may be the last chapter with Clary as the P.O.V. I don't know yet. Too early to determine that. Anyway, enjoy! (:

Clary looked around her room for the last time. The walls were stripped bare, the dresser cleared out. The window was swung open, letting in a slight breeze. She glanced in her bathroom, not used to it being so cleared out. All of her makeup and shampoos were packed away already along with her clothes and art supplies. The large bed sitting in the middle of the room was stripped down and left white, the once-colorful room now whitened and plain.

It was truly her last few moments in this room. Clary thought this day was coming up way too quickly for her liking, and now it had arrived before her like a train skidding to a halt. It was her fault for her departure. It was her fault this day was even scheduled to happen. Her throat constricted and tears burned behind her eyes; she shoved her sadness down.

"Clary?"

She responded to the familiarity of the voice, turning so fast it almost gave her whiplash. Jocelyn, her mother, stood uncertainly in the doorway, looking as disheveled as Clary felt. "Clary, Luke's truck is fired up," her mother continued, leaning into the room to give it a last one-over, her green eyes scanning wall to wall. "Are you ready to go?"

Sighing, Clary pointed to the two green suitcases leaning against the wall as an answer, the zippers all neat and zipped up. Jocelyn smiled lightly in relief, pushing a few strands of her red hair out of her eyes. "That's good." Tears flooded her mom's vision, causing Clary to roll her eyes.

"Mom, it's only twelve weeks," she said, but even as the words escaped her lips, twelve weeks sounded a lot more like twelve years. Swallowing hard, Clary continued, "There's a thing called a phone."

Jocelyn wiped her tears away. "I know, I know," she muttered, pulling Clary tightly in her arms. Clary grunted in surprise, but didn't push her mom away; the feeling of home burned deep in her gut, and Clary suddenly felt how real this situation was. This was the last hug she will receive from her mother for twelve weeks. She felt the expansion of her mom's chest as Jocelyn sighed. "I just wished you were smart enough to not have caused so much trouble."

Clary buried her face in Jocelyn's shoulder as she tried to suppress the memories of the graffiti she had spray painted across New York, the cold eyes of Judge Imogen piercing holes in her in the courtroom, the dropping sensation of her gut as she received her punishment. Twelve whole weeks away to fix an abandoned town seemed to be so unrealistic then. Now, it felt more real than ever.

At least she won't be alone. Imogen had told her twenty-three other teenagers would be staying with her in the same house to help the cause, closely monitored. They were all in similar situations, all under the threat of jail time. And all of them had been served by Imogen. Clary didn't know much about these teens, but all she knew was that they all had some things in common: they were close in age, this was their first time meeting each other, and this was their only chance to get out of jail. And nothing was going to ruin this for any of them.

Clary untangled herself from the embrace and tried to memorize her mother's features in person. From Jocelyn's beautiful dark red hair to her emerald green eyes, she was effortlessly beautiful, even close up. Her mother smiled sadly down at her, tucking a piece of Clary's red hair behind her ear in a motherly fashion. "Oh Clary, don't look at me like that," Jocelyn said softly, lightly stroking her cheek, "there are four visiting days, you know. One every three weeks."

Clary leaned into her mom's hand as she frowned. "Once every three weeks… I don't like the sound of that."

Jocelyn chuckled dryly. "No one does, dear." A loud honk from Luke's truck made both of them jump, ruining the moment. Clary was already late – she had to leave. Clary and her mother looked at each other, knowing it was time to depart. Tears slid down Clary's cheek as she engulfed her mom into one last hug before leaving. "I love you, Clary," Jocelyn sighed, stroking Clary's red hair. "And please remember why you're in this mess."

Clary did remember, only too well. She wish she hadn't done what she had done, but the past was in the past, and it was time to accept her punishment and get it over with. Things needed to change in her life, and they were going to start now.

Another honk broke out as Clary rushed out of the house, her mom trailing after her. Clary jumped into Luke's beaten-up truck as Jocelyn kissed Luke good-bye through the window, reluctant to let Luke leave. Clary quickly drank in the sight of her house, as she won't see it again in person for twelve weeks.

Twelve weeks. That thought pounded through her skull as Luke pulled out of the driveway. Twelve weeks without her mom with her, without her friends from St. Xavier, without the small bedroom she had been so accustomed to. Twelve weeks without the familiar streets Clary had memorized so long ago. Twelve weeks without her favorite coffee or her favorite comic book store Forbidden Planet. Twelve weeks.

Luke drove through the streets and instantly got stuck in midday New York traffic. Clary stared out the window, trying to remember New York as much as possible. She knew the manor she was going to live in was located in heavy wooded areas near Canada, and that she wasn't going to be able to leave that area. A pang of homesickness embedded itself deep in the pit of Clary's stomach as Luke drove out of New York and into Vermont.

Deciding watching New York behind her wasn't the best idea, Clary plugged in her headphones and listened to her more relaxing albums, her consciousness drifting off into a hazy dream, the only escape from reality.

"Clary."

Clary's vivid reverie of apples and the farmhouse was drifting off slowly; she tried to grasp it back. Someone was shaking her awake, causing her dream to shake off along with it. She was having such a good dream: she and Luke were sitting on top pillow-y green grass, munching on their handpicked apples. But all that was gone before her eyes were even open.

"Clary," the voice repeated, "we're here. At the drop-off."

Groggily, her eyes fluttered open. She was instantly greeted with the sight of thick pine trees, covered with a thin layer of white snow. Another realization struck when she noticed Luke's truck surrounding her; she had thought she woke up outside. Turning her head, Clary saw Luke hovering over her, his blue eyes crinkling when he realized she was awake. She smiled weakly – which instantly dropped when sudden dread filled her stomach. This was it. The twelve weeks start now.

That woke her up. Clary shot up, looking out her window. They were parked in a sludge-covered parking lot with a dozen cars surrounding them. Outside, Clary could make out a small blue tent set up in front of a blue bus. Families surrounded the tent, talking to the assistant inside. Clary's stomach churned, and more than anything she wanted to turn back.

"Well, go on out, Clary," said Luke impatiently, opening his car door. "We have to sign you in."

Clary quickly glanced at Luke. He was avoiding eye contact, purposely turned away from her. She felt a lump form in her throat. "Luke," she started, "I'm sorry –"

"Don't." Though he didn't look at her, Clary could tell he was glaring. He swung himself out of the driver's seat and slammed the door shut behind him, causing the car to shake.

With an exaggerated sigh and a feeling of regret, Clary swung open her truck door, and was instantly greeted with a blast of wind. Her eyes and face stung as she wrapped her scarf tighter around herself. Snow was lightly falling, catching in her red hair. Luke was suddenly beside her, grabbing her arm and leading her towards the blue tent. The bitter air sucked all the air out of Clary's chest.

They dodged several families hugging their kid good-bye. Luke led her in the blue tent, walking up to the foldable grey desk. A woman was sitting behind it, typing furiously on her laptop. She looked up from the screen as they approached, her hand pausing momentarily. She had an 80's hair style and wired-brimmed glasses, perched on the binge of her nose. She cocked a pencil eyebrow as she pushed the laptop away from her, leaning in. "Are you here to sign in?"

Clary almost rolled her eyes; why else would they be here? Luke answered instead. "Yes. Yes, and how might we do that?"

The lady smiled her snaggletooth smile, red lipstick staining her teeth. "Just tell me your name, dearie, and we'll put you in," her eyes narrowed fractionally. "How old are you?"

Luke choked back a sarcastic laugh as Clary said icily, "Sixteen, why?"

The lady frowned, and then went back to her hideous smile. "Oh, nothing. The age limit for this is fifteen, and…" she trailed off as Clary's eyebrows rose, silently telling her to not finish that sentence or else death would be inevitable.

Luke cleared his throat. The lady looked up at him and her smile broadened. Clary's eyes narrowed. Why is she so nice to them? Clary was a criminal; shouldn't she be evil towards her? But then she realized Luke was standing beside her, and Clary noticed the lady giving him puppy eyes. Oh, she thought, she is nice because of Luke. Okay, gross. Old people love. "Right," the lady continued, "your name. What is it, hun?"

"Clary," said Clary, wishing she were anywhere but here. "Clary Morgenstern."

The lady frowned, typing in her name. "That's odd," she muttered, "you're registration didn't tell me of a brother –"

Luke coughed to cover the end of her sentence, pushing Clary out of the tent. "That's enough," he said forcefully, interrupting the lady's sentence. Her eyes narrowed.

Clary was in a daze. "Brother? What are you talking about?" She struggled out of Luke's grasp, trying to get back at the lady. "I'm an only child!"

Luke dragged her back into the cold, Clary trying to get out of his grasp. But his grip was iron-tight, and he showed no reason to lesson it fractionally. "Luke!" she screeched, sending curious stares their way. "Let me go!"

Luke stopped abruptly in front of his truck, sending Clary's arm flying behind her. He whipped out his phone and started to call someone, making Clary's temper fire up. She was told she had a brother, and Luke wanted to make a call without any further explanation?

"Alright!" A loud booming voice broke her thoughts; she turned around curiously to see an older man holding a microphone. Families turned towards his voice, looking at him curiously. "My name is Hodge Starkweather, and I'm the town mayor and the person to be monitoring your child's work," He looked across the crowd, a friendly spark flying behind his eyes.

Clary walked closer to him, temporarily forgetting about her brother. So this is the man who organized their punishment, huh? He doesn't look that impressive, from his potbelly to his short height, down to his neatly-trimmed gray beard. "You may have many questions, and I'm the person to go to before sending your child away." He grinned, showing white teeth. Everyone was quiet, and the only noise to be heard is the howling of the wind.

"Okay, so here's the deal: your child has the fate of a jail sentence stuck in their backside, am I correct? They've been a bit more naughty and irresponsible than normal. Well, this punishment is to help boost up their responsibility by giving them the heavy weight of fixing up a town in less than twelve weeks, which seems to be unmanageable. But trust me, with this stimulating team work and responsibility, they are sure to get the task done, with credit and honor to their name." His blue eyes twinkled. "That's right. In their hard work, the town will dedicate a plaque showcasing all of their names in the town hall. But that will only take place if the job gets done.

"'Where will my child stay?' They will be staying in the Institute, which is the name of an old manor that has been vacated long ago. We have sent a crew to fix the place up, installing new house essentials and new furniture. We already assigned a boy's hallway and a girl's hallway, and your child's name has been assigned a room. Along with this, we have also spent a good amount of money on spyware, ensuring your child will be closely monitored during these twelve weeks. We also have a stationed adult to live with them during this time. There are cooks and maids to be keeping the place running, so while your child is away building and fixing, there will always be a hot meal and a cleaned bed waiting for them.

"Today and tomorrow is a free day for your child to get used to the place and meet each other. On Monday we will begin construction, and they have all Sundays off to rest and relax. Every three weeks, we will have a Family Reunion, which means you will be able to greet your child in the very home they will live in. You can take them wherever you want, but remember, they have a curfew of eight o'clock. Any later time will result in further punishment for your child, meaning their Sundays off will be restricted.

"We understand the situation of a bunch of teenagers living together. Their hormones can get a bit out of hand sometimes, but remember, we have several adults and even more security cameras placed around the house, watching their actions. If they misbehave, a letter will be sent home to you and your child's Sunday off will be restricted. If that doesn't seem like much, just wait until they have to work from five in the morning to ten at night every night without any break. If this punishment does not work, and your child continuously misbehaves, they will be sent to jail immediately to await their next trial, which will not be as friendly as the first.

"Any questions before we take off?"

A tall woman with slick, black hair spoke up. "Will this show up on their permanent record?"

Hodge nodded and spoke up, his voice gruff from his speech. "This will show up as volunteer work for your child, and their case will be dropped without further question."

This seemed to rile up the crowd. Clary went rigid as she felt someone grab her hand and squeezed it for support. She relaxed, recognizing Luke's parental movements. She looked up at him, and this time, he looked down at her and smiled weakly. Got you, she thought happily, turning back to the crowd and at Hodge.

Hodge brought up his hand, dwindling the noise of the crowd.

A blonde man raised his hand. "Will there be professionals there to help our kids rebuild a town?"

Hodge smiled and chuckled dryly. "Why, of course there will be professionals! They'll leave after the fourth week, though. Anyone else?" No one spoke up this time. He smiled again. "Okay, then. Let's get your kids on the bus!"

Clary was pushed within the crowd towards the blue bus, and with much effort she wiggled herself out of the crowd and to Luke's car. Her luggage was in there, and she was not going to start off her twelve weeks without anything. Luke was already there, pulling out her suitcases. Clary took one and together they hauled them towards the blue bus, a tense silence between them. She wouldn't be with Luke for twelve weeks. Twelve full weeks. That's eighty four days, two thousand hours, one-hundred-twenty-thousand minutes, and seven million seconds without Luke. That math startled her, even more than her ability to do all of that in her head.

Lost in thought, she bumped into someone in front of her – someone tall and blonde. She didn't give him much thought, and didn't respond to his snarky retort. When the view of the door to the bus became clear, Clary quickly turned and hugged Luke briefly, before letting go and putting her suitcases besides the piles of other luggage. There were at least fifty other bags piled on top of one another, all laying and probably getting ruined by the snow underneath. And then the time is here: her turn to go on the bus. She took a deep breath and stepped up the stairs, looking around. The inside of the bus seemed comfortable, with blue cushioned seats and heaters placed throughout the bus. She ignored everyone's stares as she sat down in the seat closest to her, which turned out to be the middle of the bus.

The small bus was filling up, leaving only a few seats open. The last person to jump on was a skinny boy with brown hair and glasses. He looked far too geeky to be on a bus full of criminals. He must've seen Clary's gaze on him, for he sat down beside her. Clary gave him an odd look. Why would he sit by her? There were plenty of other seats open, most of them not even occupied by a person. He looked at her, and time slowed. Clary recognized him immediately. He was her childhood best friend before she moved away. "Simon? Simon Lewis?" she choked out.

He grinned. "Hello, Clary Morgenstern."

Clary was stunned. "How did you… what did you do?"

His grin wavered slightly. He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Well, I uh… well you see, there's this… I'll tell you later." He finished, noting people surrounding their seat leaning into their conversation.

Clary nodded and took out her phone and earbuds, scrolling through her song list. Simon leaned over her shoulder and snorted. "Really, Morgenstern? Is my company really that dull?"

Clary glanced up at him. "No, but you're really not giving me a reason to continue our conversation."

He shook his head, looking forward. "I forgot how you are," He muttered, mostly to himself.

She whipped her head up at that. "Oh?" she said, sarcasm lacing her words. "Exactly how am I, Simon?"

He glanced down at her over his glasses, his brown eyes calculating. "You're very direct." Simon, not going into further detail, reached into his backpack and took out a book, plopping it open and propping it against the back of the chair in front of him. Clary snorted and plugged in her earbuds, listening to Stepping Razor and gazing out the window. She felt the bus lurch, and they were off, steering through the many cars in the parking lot and on the main street. The bus was engulfed in a tense silence, no one daring to break it.

She tried to find Luke's truck, but it wasn't in sight. Clary sighed, knowing he probably took off right when she went on the bus. The bus inclined, going up a hill. They were probably in Canada, from the looks of her surroundings. The trees became thick, the snow falling lightly on her window, fogging up any clear image she could make out. Clary leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes, becoming lost in her music.

Twelve weeks without her mom. Without Luke. Without her small room, the noise of New York bringing her comfort. She already felt homesick. The trees engulfed whatever sun came through, making the bus go into a dark shadow. The lights in the bus streamed on, earning a few groans from people trying to sleep.

Just as suddenly, Clary's phone beeped, along with many others around the bus. Looking down anxiously, Clary saw, to her dismay, a notification very clear on her screen: No Signal.

"No signal?" A girl with long, black hair said, standing up. "What kind of bull is this?"

A guy with white-blonde hair in the back stood up, too. "Screw this," he snarled, moving towards the driver. "We're already ascending into hell. But hell without signal?"

A guy sitting beside him with blonde hair grabbed the back of his leather jacket and hauled the guy back in his seat, saying, "Sebastian, sit down!"

A guy in the row in front of him turned around lazily, again with a pretty shade of gold hair. How many blonde guys are on this bus? "Johnathan, Sebastian, try to control yourselves. There are ladies on this bus."

A guy with black hair sat beside the blonde, coming back from recently making out with a pair of blonde twins in the back. He snorted, wiping off the red lipstick off his cheek. "Yeah, ladies whom are all criminals."

A girl with curly, black hair from the front of the bus stood up. "Do you wish to repeat that, William?" They must be siblings from their startling resemblance and knowledge of names.

"Can you guys shut up?" A pretty girl with glossy blonde hair in the front of the bus turned around and snarled. "I'm trying to get my beauty rest in before we arrive."

"Oh, hun," an Asian guy piped up from across her seat, and to Clary's horror, she realized he was wearing better makeup than she was. He was wearing neon yellow pants and a shirt that looks as though a disco ball threw up on it. "You're going to need years' worth of sleep to be considered beautiful."

She snarled at him, but didn't say anything back. A few guys in the back hollered with laughter.

"I for one," a guy with pretty brown hair spoke up, "am wondering if we're going to be able to live together. We're already killing each other, and we haven't even arrived."

"No one cares what you're wondering, Gideon," another guy said, with the same shade of brown hair. They glared at each other, and Clary realized they're probably siblings, too.

Clary wondered if she'll meet her brother here, and if he's on this bus right now. If she even had a brother. Then why would the lady say that, if she didn't? And why would Luke react the way he had reacted if she didn't have a brother? Did her mom have an affair? Was her brother from the same father she had? But her father is dead… right? And why would Jocelyn abandon her baby like that if he were? Does that mean he isn't dead, and Jocelyn had been lying this whole time? Thoughts swirled in her head, causing a massive headache. She groaned and leaned her forehead against the window, the coldness giving her some relief.

Simon looked down at her quizzically. "Hey, you all right?" He nudged her with his elbow, and she shook off his concern.

"Fine," she said, "just contemplating how I'll be able to escape this hell hole."

"Ah, but that's the thing," Simon grinned. "You can't."

The bus rode on, with multiple people speaking up to exclaim their thoughts. Clary tuned them out by listening to her music, though once or twice she would look up and see people making out or yelling at each other. It looked a bit comical, but she was too tired and sad to laugh. Soon enough, music seemed to give her an even bigger headache, so she ripped out her earbuds and shoved her phone in her pocket. She wished she had her sketchbook, which was packed away in her suitcase.

The conversation's volume dwindled, engulfing the bus in another uncomfortable silence. Clary tapped the window, creating an off-tune beat. The person sitting in front of her turned in her seat and glared at Clary. "Can you cut that out?" she sneered, her black, curly hair covering her face. Clary, in exaggeration, took her hand off the window as if it had burned her and placed it in her lap, smiling icily. The girl rolled her eyes and turned back to the front.

As Clary was drifting off into sleep, a guy behind her tapped her shoulder. She turned, and was welcomed with the sight of a hot guy, with sharp jawlines and brown eyes and curly hair. He grinned at her, noting her jaw dropping fractionally. "Hey, pretty thing," he said seductively, "what's your name?"

Clary resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "My name is 'I'm out of your league'." Though Clary was more out of his league, she still felt pride lick the insides of her stomach as he reeled back and switched seats with another girl. What a player.

Simon chucked dryly besides her. She turned towards him. "What? What's so funny?" she demanded.

He looked down at her. "You," He said with a sly smile. "You're borderline hilarious sometimes."

"Uh, thanks?"

"Please, do not mention it."

They remained silent for the rest of the drive.

A loud crash issued behind them. Clary whirled her head, watching the funniest drama unfold in front of her: the two blonde twin's nail polish had fallen out of their purse and has splattered on the surrounding seats, including themselves. They were wailing about the nail polishes being more than everyone's existence. Clary couldn't help it: she laughed along with everyone else on the bus.

As they cleaned the mess up, Clary glanced down at her phone. They've been on the road for almost five hours now. She has 2,011 more hours to go before this punishment is over. That's 120,660 minutes, and over 7,000,000 seconds left. She shook her head, disbelieving the boredom of the bus has driven her to do math that will only make her feel worse.

The steady drive of the bus against gravel lured Clary into a deep sleep, her being conscious only a few times. She would occasionally dream about the conversations happening around her, but mostly she dreamed of home. Of Jocelyn cooking her famous pancakes, of Luke driving them up to the farmhouse, of the memories they have all shared together. Even of Clary's crazy neighbor, Madame Dorthea, Clary had dreamed of her. It had been an odd dream, as Dorthea is an odd woman, but a dream nevertheless.

Stop, she thought bitterly, it's not like you're never going to see them again. But the thought of not seeing them for weeks still hurt as much as if she were leaving forever.

The bus lurched, stopping. Everyone's conversation cut off abruptly, and suddenly everyone was looking out the window to see where they have stopped at. The bus parked outside of a large iron gate, a long pathway leading up a mountain on the other side. The driver was clearly talking to whoever controlled the gate. The bus buzzed with activity as everyone pressed their faces firmer against the window, trying to see if they can see the house they're staying in.

But to no avail. The house was too far up on the hill to be seen. Clary shoved a kid out of her personal space, as he was leaning over her to look out of her window. Everyone needs to be under control. They have been on the road for nine hours, sure, but it doesn't mean to act like animals being released from captivity.

The iron gate slowly creaked open, creating a god-awful sound equivalent to a cat shrieking over someone scratching their nails against a chalkboard. And just as sudden, the bus lurched to life, and they were moving again, slowly this time, up the long pathway up the mountain. Behind them, Clary saw the gate slowly close shut, shaking as it locked together. The bus moved up the hill as if the tires were covered in honey – irritatingly slow. The blonde boys in the back cussed the driver out to drive faster than their blind grandmas, which was funny at first, but grew old just as fast.

Up the hill the twenty four teenagers went. Like Clary, most remained quiet and enjoyed the view of Canada. The beautiful green trees loomed up around them, and the prettiest white snow flaked around their bus like stars cascading down to earth. The air was sucked out of Clary as they reached the top of the hill. Green pine trees dipped in fresh snow stretched for miles, touching the tip of the blue skies. The bus hummed in appreciation as they leisurely drove by, the light sun hidden behind fluffy clouds mirroring the snow on earth.

It left their vision as quickly as it came. The view became hidden behind the trees towering on top of the mountain. The bus rolled up to a massive mansion Clary was sure wasn't there moments before. It looked as though it were a forgotten cathedral, the style of the manor very Victorian. The large, glass-stained windows winked at the teenagers, the many roofs coming up to a point, seeming to cut into the sky. Trees surrounding the manor wrapped the house in a nature blanket, hiding the other half of its mysteries.

In front of the manor was a massive, marble fountain of an angel pouring water. The bus drove around it on the circular brick pathway, stopping at the entrance of the house. Clary's nerves sparked. This was it; this is what was waiting for her for months after the hearing. This is why her mother had almost thrown her out of her house. This is what Luke was stressing out over. This is what the school had to hear about in order to lose a month of her education.

After all of that hassle, this is looking more as a vacation than a punishment.

The bus stopped; along with many others, Clary was thrown forward at the sudden change in motion. Clary looked out the window and saw a slender women in a tight, black dress strut out of the massive wooden doors. She held her hips as another man walked out of the manor, his muscles poking through his shirt. He opened the compartment on the side of the bus and began to drag out the luggage.

The spark of Clary's nerves inflamed. People were starting to file out of the bus. She wrung her hands nervously as she and Simon stood up, grabbing their things. Simon wriggled his way in the tightly packed line, and Clary was stuck waiting. The blondes from the back of the bus were by her when one of them, his hair more golden and all golden eyes, stopped to let her go in front of him. His blonde friends protested, but he gestured madly for her to go. Clary shot him an appreciative smile and scrambled out of her little isle to leave the bus. She felt his eyes on the back of her head as she exited the bus, looking for Simon. No one had entered the manor yet, since the woman in the black dress was guarding the entrance.

Everyone was collecting their luggage from the muscular man, and when he pulled out Clary's suitcases, she quickly grabbed them and sat them by her feet; the green designs smudged together in a muddy texture. Clary frowned; this was a Christmas gift, and now it was ruined because of snow. She had no room to complain, since the reason she was here because of vandalizing buildings. In a way, this was payback.

When everyone was associated with their luggage, the woman nodded her head in thanks and in a way of telling him he's excused. He mock-saluted and headed back inside. She turned towards everyone, holding her hands in front of her. She radiated power, from her expensive black dress to her gorgeous makeup job. She held herself up as if the world depended on it.

"Teenagers," she began, earning everyone's attention to be snapped towards her. "You are here for one reason and one reason only: redemption. Do not blow this, for this is your last shot to stay out of jail and for your records to remain clean."

She smiled unnervingly. "My name is Jia Penhallow, and I funded this program. I funded the tightened security in the house and the new appliances and furniture. I chose where you will be staying, and I chose a church built in the 1800's. When you see me in the house, I will be treated with respect."

"I don't get it," piped up one of the blondes – Sebastian, Clary remembers. His name is Sebastian. "Why are we in the middle of nowhere?"

Her icy gaze swept towards him. "Treat me with more respect," she spat, "and don't interrupt me." She cleared her throat and moved her gaze back towards the crowd. "I have placed you here in this location to isolate you from anyone else besides yourselves. You will have to learn to live with the same people, no matter the drama you've caused yourselves, to prove your behavior worthy of prison. Think of this as a more luxuries version of a prison. There is no escape, since you're on top of a mountain. The only escape you have is to rebuild the town and Family Visit time. Did that," she added towards Sebastian, "answer your question?"

He nodded but did not respond.

She took his silence as an improvement. "Good." She smiled tightly. "Now, as of all of you, you're all to unpack in your assigned rooms and to meet me in the dining room for dinner. The travel was long and was sure to be tiring, but after every hard day we all come together for dinner. Of course, this will most likely be my only day to eat dinner with you all, to much of your relief. But as this is a tradition, we will follow through with it, me being present or not."

Everyone was silent. Impatiently, she gestured towards the door. "Well, what are you all waiting for?" She demanded. "Go on in and get settled!"

I would have continued, but this chapter was awful long - over 5.8k words! I have huge plans for this story. So much drama is going to take place, it's like a crossover between Days of our Lives and Jersey Shore. Here's the biggest drama to go down: CLACE, MALEC, SIZZY, & JESSA/WESSA. Most of these ships won't happen until later, so stay tuned. Until next time...