"...weeks to determine- Mr Wayland!"
Clary jumped in her seat, her pencil skidding from her grasp and her eyes snapping to the grinch at the end of the room. He lounged in an office chair next to the whiteboard, his podgy legs crossed at the ankles and hooked over the armrest, on show to the entire first row; all of whom failed to maintain eye contact for more than seven seconds.
Clary eyed the man carefully and found his gaze on the lonesome boy slouched at the table in front of hers. It wasn't surprising; Mr Panghorn was never one to pick on the weaker man. And Jace, with his borderline psychotic grins and pyromaniac-like tedencies was not, for all intents and purposes, the weaker man. She didn't know why the teacher did it or why, this month, he'd been riding Jace relentlessly. There were plenty of other students that snored through class, talked back or didn't do anything at all. There were plenty of students who had been nothing but disruptive throughout the year. Jace had always been good, quiet, and wrote essays nicer than her own- despite their undeservingly low marks. That his giganticness shielded her often snoring, back taking and lazy best friend from the teacher's scornful eyes was a bonus.
Her stomach sunk for the boy, as did her empty supply of respect for the man. He was a bully. A short, fat, pack-a-day smoker kind of bully that parked in clearly marked disabled parking spaces.
"Yes, Mr Panghorn?"
Clary glanced over at Jace. He turned a thick, silver ring between his fingers as he spoke.
"Care to explain why you consistently feel the need to fall asleep in my classroom?"
Jace sighed, and pressed the ring to the tabletop. With a jerk of his hand, he released it, and Clary watched it as it spun across the desk. As did Jace, apparently.
"Wayland," Panghorn snapped, "you will look at me when I am speaking to you."
Jace brought his palm down on the ring, and glared up at the teacher.
"I'm sorry sir," he said. "It won't happen again."
Panghorn sneered a creul, horrible sneer, and Clary frowned with disgust. How one man could be so ugly- how one man could treat people so badly!
"I should hope not," Pangborn muttered. "Not after your next assignment."
the teacher turned back to the whiteboard, but not before catching Clary's obvious glare. His eyebrows shot up to his hairline and he grinned a gruesome grin.
"Do you have something you'd like to say, Miss Fray?"
Jace stiffened, and glanced back at her. She met his eyes with furrowed brows, and pulled her lower lip between her teeth.
Do I?
Jace shook his head the slightest, and Clary let out a resigned sigh before facing the grinch once more.
"No," she said, voice like ice. "Not today."
The tension left Jace's shoulders as he turned toward the front and slouched back against his desk. He didn't look at her for the rest of the period.
"What assignment?" Someone called from the back. "We just handed one in!"
Clary resisted the urge to turn and locate at the whiner. She was still a little red from the exchange with the teacher, and she didn't want her classmates spurring her on, any.
The teacher re-folded himself on the chair, and smirked.
"Fear not, Ingrid." Clary rolled her eyes. "This is assignment is not of the written variety."
A wave of relieved sighs rolled through the room.
"First thing is first, partner up."
Clary immediately grasped at her best friend's hand, from where it lay beside him on his makeshift bed of her lap. She knew no one else would take him, it was merely a precautionary measure.
Mr Panghorn dragged a box forward while the class set about partnering up, and toed it open with the edge of his sandal.
"Okay," he said, clasping his hands together. The class silenced as he scanned the room, his eyes falling on Clary. He slowly bent and retrieved something from the box- something pink and plastic with gigantic head. It looked roughly the size of Clary's forearm; tiny.
"It's a baby!" Someone exclaimed.
Mr Panghorn smiled devilishly.
"Miss Morgenstern and Mr Wayland," Clary glanced over at Jace, "please come and collect your baby."
I wrote this at crazy o'clock- 0:40 a.m, because it was in my head and I had to get it down. So I apologise for any mistakes, or the potential misspelling of the creepy demon's name.
I don't own the Mortal Instruments. It's all Cassandra Clare's.
(: