Disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan or Cassandra Clare, so this does not belong to me.

I let out a scream of frustration as I throw my knife to the ground, having failed, for the fifth time in a row, to hit my target. I hate throwing knives. I hate them with a passion and I never want to touch another one ever again. I cross my arms and look down at my feet, where the sixth knife has lodged annoyingly in the rubber mat, sticking straight up, in exactly the position I have been aiming for for the past couple hours.

"So now you cooperate, huh?"

I've spent the entire morning listening to the dull thud of knives on rubber as weapon after weapon misses its target, bounces off some random object in the room, and lies pathetically on the ground. It's a good thing I train alone, because I think my rebounds pose a much bigger threat than my initial throws.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead and glance down at the small watch on my wrist. I'm pleasantly surprised to find that it's already eight o'clock in the morning, which means I've been training for a full hour. I usually give up and storm off well before that.

Grateful, I put the knives away, already disregarding my previous vow to stay away from them, and hope that I didn't leave too big a hole in the mat. The other shadowhunters always get mad when I lose my temper like that, especially when I ruin the equipment. Though I do suspect it's mainly because I'm a danger to myself and to others every time I start throwing knives around, and not for the reasons you might think. I chopped of my own toe a few weeks ago.

I baffles me how seemingly every shadowhunter in the universe can spend hours at a time training with one weapon. And the same one every time, at that! I get bored after approximately ten minutes, then I have to go and find something else to do. I hate training, and that's why I always do it alone. I don't want to embarrass myself in front of anyone, even my closest friends.

I slip silently out of the training room and head down the hall in the direction of my room, intending to get changed quickly then go to the kitchen for breakfast. I'm in a baggy shirt and shorts, my dark hair tied up in a messy ponytail. I know I'm supposed to me in gear for training, but the stuff is so damn uncomfortable that I never bother to put in on unless someone forces me into it. Besides, it's not like I've suffered that many serious injuries in my street clothes. Or at least, nothing that can't be fixed with a simple iratze. Except my toe. That's still missing.

When I reach my room, I throw on, well, pretty much the same thing I was just wearing, just a little better fitting and a with slightly better smell. My fashion sense is really lacking. I take out my ponytail, which has fallen so far out of place I look like a lion, and try to arrange my thick curls around my shoulders in a way that doesn't make me look like I just got out of bed. It's a difficult process. I've always wanted to just chop it all off, but I'm pretty sure Jessica would have a heart attack if I did. She's obsessed with my hair.

When I step into the dining room, which is just down the hall, I'm greeted with groggy "Good morning Alyssa's" from everyone present. They all sit in their regular spots: Jessica at the head of the table, the place she has apparently insisted on occupying since she was five. She doesn't even look up from her food, her thin golden locks hiding her face as I walk in. Chris sits to her right, and makes a point of flashing me a warm smile as I walk over to the small table. He smiles at everyone like that, all the time. It must get tiring. The corners of my mouth turn up slightly in reply as I take my seat and Maryse slides a plate in front of me.

"Where were you this morning?" Chris asks immediately, "I went to wake you up, but you weren't in your room."

Looking down at my plate, I answer his question as calmly as I can, though I wonder if he can see my shoulders tense. "Oh, I was training."

I don't usually tell them about my training, because they always insist on accompanying me, and I'm not sure how to tell them that I don't want them around. It's not that I don't enjoy their company, I just… need to train on my own.

Sure enough, Jessica looks up immediately. "You didn't tell us that! We would have come with you, helped you out!" You really need it. She doesn't say it aloud this time, but the phrase is implied. We all know that's what she's thinking.

That's the thing with my friends. They can't grasp the concept of individual training. They don't understand when I tell them I want to do things alone because I, quite frankly, suck at everything, while they're unbelievably good at everything and they know it. Jessica especially.

I pretend to be absorbed in my meal. "I just wanted to do things on my own. I get more done that way."

I can't see her, but I imagine that Jessica rolls her eyes at me. "Alyssa, I know we intimidate you, but trust me when I say it's a good thing. You're a shadowhunter. If you would just work a little harder, you'd be just as good as any of us."

That's just the thing. The working hard part. I can't do it, because any time I start doing something, my ADHD brain trails off and breaks my concentration. I've tried to explain it before, but they all seem convinced it's something I can work through. I know Jessica resents me for it, even if she tries to hide it. She values hard work over just about everything. Chris is more understanding, but I think he sees me as more of a friend/little sister than a teammate or training partner.

I continue to shovel pancakes into my mouth, completely ignoring the others, until I realize that my plate is empty. Damn. Taking the excuse, I bring my plate over to the sink, then make my way to the door. I hear Chris' voice just before I leave.

"Hey, we're gonna go for a run then train for an hour or so once we're done. Why don't you come with?"

He doesn't look surprised when I shake my head. This is a routine for us. Every morning, after breakfast, they go for a run. Then they train. They ask if I want to join them. I refuse. Sometimes they insist, but lately they've started to give up on me. Most of the Shadowhunters already have. They've finally figured out that I just don't belong here.

My room is bare and tidy. What else am I supposed to do while the others are training? I spend hours here every day, cleaning, reading, whatever, and it's the only place in the institute that really feels like home. After five years in New York, my room here is completely different from the one I had back home, and yet it has just as much personality. My walls are a light green, a few posters from back home tacked up on the walls. None of them mean much to me, but I like having them there anyway. An old Winnipeg Jets poster my friend gave me. I don't actually care much about the team, but it's nice to have a reminder of home and of my friends. A poster for some ancient greek play about the gods that I thought was super cool at the time. The greek alphabet, the only letters I can read without too much difficulty.

My bookshelf is dusty and seldom used. I have a few mandatory shadowhunter books, including the codex, but I don't think I've finished a single one of them. If the practical part of training is bad, the theoretical part is an absolute nightmare. My dyslexia makes it incredibly difficult to read anything, and my mind always wanders off any time I have to sit in the library for extended periods of time. This part is considered less important, but the Shadowhunters are not known for their patience, and they often get seriously annoyed with me.

The only books I really read are in ancient greek. I don't know why the language fascinates me so much, but we touched on it briefly once and I found I had a natural talent for it. I have since scoured the library for any book written in ancient greek, which are surprisingly few. My greek still isn't perfect, but I find these books much easier to read than the others. Besides, I love the thrilling tales of the Olympian gods, the drama that is so exaggerated and extreme it seems almost laughable. It's how I spend a good portion of my free time.

I pick up my book on runes, the least excruciating of the various subjects I will have to continue studying for two more years, until I'm eighteen (probably much longer, though, given the rate at which I'm progressing). I might even go so far as to say that I like runes, though that preference may have been forced upon me. Since I can't fight with the others, I tend to end up treating their wounds after the battle, a practice that requires a certain knack with runes as well as a knowledge of the various different ones and what they do.

I'm just starting the book when I hear the phone ring in another room, followed by the sound of someone dashing to get it. I guess there must have been some sort of incident in the city. This sort of stuff doesn't really concern me most of the time, since I always stay at home. I have never been on a single mission, battle, whatever you want to call it, in my entire life.

I hear Maryse run frantically around the building, calling for Chris and Jessica, but they're not home. They always start off their training with a run in Central Park, so of course they're not back yet.

Maryse sounds really worried. I'm about to get up and ask her what's going on, when my cellphone starts ringing. I immediately dash to my desk and snatch my phone off of it, worried that Chris or Jessica might be in trouble.

"Hello?"

"Alyssa, it's Jessica. Where are you?" She sounds really freaked out, and I immediately stand up straighter. It takes a lot to unhinge my best friend.

"Um, in my room. Where else?"

"Where's Maryse?"

I hear the door slam at the other end of the building. "I'm pretty sure she just left. Is something wrong?"

She curses. "Listen, I need you to get into gear, grab as many weapons as you can carry, and get to Central Park. Now."

I freeze. Nobody ever asks me to help them out with important shadowhunter stuff. Ever. That's how I know something big is happening. My voice takes on a dangerous tone. "Jessica, what's going on?"

"Just hurry!" She screams. I don't think I've ever heard her sound so scared. "God, Alyssa, can't you just follow orders for once? There are too many of them and not enough of us, and we need to protect the mun-"

She cuts off. The line goes dead. And then all I can hear is the dial tone.