Clary Pov
I felt the caffeine fighting the haze in my mind. It didn't have the desired effect. Instead, it left me feeling sick and exhausted. I was in no mood to deal with the moronic bullshit that was high school. It was never easy being the new kid, trust me. No matter how many times we moved, it was the same struggle. I guess that was military life for you.
Although this time I must have broken some record. Usually I kept to myself, and as a result ended up the loner, invisible. This year was different. For the first time, I knew I wasn't moving, so when I had met a sweet dark-haired boy in the summer, he asked me on a date, I, of course, said yes. It turned out to be my biggest mistake yet. As a result, I skipped the invisible stage and went straight to bad reputation. AKA, School Slut. Which was ironic considering I was a virgin. Let's just say that rumours spread fast, and pictures spread faster. Again, it's not what you think. The whole situation was out of context.
I was walking down the hall, and it felt like every head was looking in my direction. "That's her, the new slut.", "Ew, you could catch something just by looking at her.", The whispers followed me. A group of girls jumped back as I reached my locker, I rolled my eyes at them. But when they left, I shook my bright red curls until they covered my face. Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself why I was there. I chose that school for the speciality programs. I got into a music and arts course to help me better develop my skills before applying for college. My goal was a scholarship. I straightened my back, and lifted my head, walking confidently to my first class.
I arrived early, therefore getting the first pick of seats. I chose one in the back with hopes that I'd avoid the stares for most of the lesson. As students began to filter in, taking their seats, the whispers and staring continued. A couple of girls gasped when they saw me, a bit of an overreaction. I lowered my eyes and began sketching. I quickly lost myself in the lines, so it took me a minute to realise the class had fallen silent and someone was standing in front of me. I looked up, my green eyes meeting gold. The boy before me just screamed art, and my hand twitched with the desire to draw him, this was of course before he opened his mouth.
"You're in my seat." The blonde growled. I stared at him in disbelief.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were five." I leaned back and crossed my arms over my chest. I was aware that the whole class was watching our exchange, but I didn't break eye contact. He gazed lazily, but I could sense the dangerous edge underneath. He leaned forward, placing both hands on my desk until his eyes were level with mine.
"From what I hear, that desk would have to be disinfected before anyone else can use it." His voice was low but hard, "What do they call you? Dirty Slut?" I stared back, clenching my jaw, "You want to know what I call you?" I kept my mouth shut and my eyes fixed on him, determined not to let him break me. "Clarissa, wouldn't want to risk her."
The class erupted into laughter, and the blonde moved away, taking a seat on the other side of the room. Before I could even process what happened, the teacher entered and took attendance. Unfortunately, the cruel blonde - Jace Herondale - was in two of my other classes. I managed to stay out of his way mostly, all the while acting like nothing was affecting me. At lunch, I managed to find a place to myself under a tree. Losing myself in my sketches left no room for the evil thoughts. I had to hold on to the end of the day. Hold on until I was safe.
The rest of the week continued like that. School, where I ignored the students, avoided Jace and acted as if nothing could touch me. Then I'd go home, lock myself in my room and cry. Sebastian, the cause for all my torment, must have handed out my number, which resulted in all sorts of abusive texts from unknown numbers. "Clarissa, wouldn't want to risk her" seemed to have caught on. It was texted to me, written on the bathroom walls, and I even found it written on my locker.
I thought things couldn't get worse. Then there was Friday. My world ended on Friday, with a year-long project partner from hell.
Edited version. I do not own any of the characters.