Attention: This was not written by me. It was written by TheFeatherQuill who had previously given her account to me a while ago due to problems she was having. However, as part of her request, I have re-uploaded this for her. All credit goes to her not me. If you have read this story, please know that she may be finishing it.

Disclaimer: TMI belongs to Cassie alone.

For all she knew, today was another regular day at the Institute High School of Excellence; or how Clary and everyone else liked to call it: the Institute. The Institute was a "prestigious" private school to which only the best of the state attended. Clary and her best friend Simon had both received special scholarships to come to this school. But as far as she could see, it wasn't any different from a normal high school. Loud, unruly teenagers roaming the hallways mean and boring teachers, etc. And she and Simon were still at the bottom of the social rank. Not that it really mattered. She was fine with just having Simon around. She couldn't wish for anymore.

After the morning bell had rung, she walked along the hallway trying to find her locker, which happened to be located in the main hallway of the building. Simon was already there, tidying the contents of his locker, which was right next to hers. His brown hair hung in front of his eyes, which had a tired look to them, telling Clary he had stayed up all night playing Dungeons and Dragons.

"Hey Simon," she said, opening her locker.

"Oh hey. What up?" Simon replied as he shut his locker and leaned against it.

"Eh, not much. Stayed up a little late last night finishing off some Trig. I swear, Professor Maryse is gonna kill us with all this work. I mean, 30 pages out of the workbook? C'mon!" Clary exclaimed as she placed her textbooks in her mini shelves.

"We had Trig homework? Dammit. I forgot. I had other stuff on my mind."

Clary smirked. "I'm assuming that beating the level on Dungeons and Dragons was the "other stuff"."

"That level was really hard!"

Before Clary could reply, the second bell rang. She rolled her eyes. This didn't just mean it was time to go to class. She watched as the students of the Institute lined up along the Main Hallway and faced the entrance of the school.

And here comes to Royal Family, thought Clary as she rolled her eyes at the gathering. It was like this every morning. Everyday, at precisely 7:30 when the second bell rang, the three most popular students would enter the school. They weren't just high in social ranking. They were also rich, good looking, and pretty much regarded as gods in the school.

The door opened and everyone came to a hush as the sound of heels clicking on the ground was heard, and in came Isabelle Lightwood. Dressed in a blue jeans miniskirt, and a long-sleeved, v neck white top, Isabelle Lightwood was probably the most gorgeous girl Clary had ever seen. Her long, sleek black hair fell gracefully down to her waist, and her blue eyes radiated importance. She was the school's star field hockey player, as well as the head of the Drama department. Her beauty had guys begging on their knees for her while it left girls hiding their face in shame. She always did what she wanted and had little regard for the school rules. Not that anyone tried to stop her. No one got in the way of Isabelle Lightwood.

Applause rang throughout the hallway as guys immediately stopped what they were doing, and girls rushing up to her, asking her for the fashion tip of the day.

Clary eyed her as she walked by. She had to admit, she was jealous of the pretty girl's beauty. Then her eyes drifted to Simon, who was staring in awe. Clary smiled.

"Hey Simon, you should probably stop staring. It's a little creepy."

Simon, as if he had snapped out of a daze, hurriedly replied, "I was not staring. I… just wasn't blinking."

Clary laughed. "Simon, your crush on her is so obvious, there's no point in hiding it."

"I do not-"

He was cut off when another round of applause welcomed the second student. Alec Lightwood was a senior at the school and Isabelle's older brother. He was tall, around 6 feet, had soft, jet black hair, and striking blue eyes, which contrasted his pale skin. He was the school's best Lacrosse player, leading the team to Nationals four years in a row. He was an honor roll student and destined to be the school's valedictorian of his graduating class. Though he looked strikingly similar to Isabelle, he was more soft spoken, and had innocent look to him that made the girls in the school sigh when he smiled. Clary could see why everyone admired him. He was the perfect student.

And suddenly, the chatter in the hall dwindled into a hush as the third and final god of the school entered. He was unlike the other two. Not like Isabelle, with her dancing grace and splendor. Not like Alec, with his humble beauty. He was like proud lion, ready to pounce. His skin was tanner than the other two, and his shoulders slightly broader than Alec's. His tawny hair shone like an angel's halo, and he had golden eyes that seemed to melt anyone who looked into them. And with a dip in his walk, Jace Herondale entered the school: Captain of the Varsity football team, the nightmare of every teacher, and every girl's heartthrob, especially Clary's.

"Clary."

She didn't respond. Simon tried again, with more emphasis,

"Clary!"

"Huh?" Clary gasped, as if startled out of a trance. She saw Simon's face and a blush crept up her face. Simon smirked,

"Who's staring now?"

"Shut up."

The fourth period bell rang and Clary sprinted out of the classroom, thankful to be relieved from the horrors of English. Romeo and Juliet, yuck. It was the worst book in the world in Clary's opinion. Two people who met, fell in love, married and died in two days. Utterly stupid.

She hurried to her locker, finding Simon already at his.

"Oh how I hate English," she murmured, opening her locker.

"Tell me about it," Simon answered. Clary noticed he seemed a little tense, though she couldn't make out why.

"Is something wrong?" she inquired, frustrated at not being able to diagnose the source of her friend's tension.

Simon sucked in his breath. "Nothing. Just… look to your left."

Clary turned her head to the right, and turned back to Simon puzzled.

"I don't see anything."

"Your other left, idiot," Simon smirked.

Clary looked to the left, and at first saw nothing. But then she knew what Simon was talking about. Across the hall, Isabelle Lightwood was talking one of the kids from Theater. But her dark eyes were focused intensely on Clary.

Clary gulped and turned away. "Why is she staring at me?"

"I dunno," Simon replied. " But she's been following us- well you actually- since the end of first period. I don't know why, but its creepy. "

Clary glanced again, and this time saw Isabelle striding over to her and Simon.

"Simon, she's coming over here!"

Simon panicked. "What! Holy crap-"

"Hey," sang a voice.

Clary and Simon slowly turned to face Isabelle Lightwood. Clary had never really noticed how tall she was; 5'9 she guessed. She smelled like captivating vanilla, and cherry blossoms.

She smiled. "I'm Isabelle, but you probably already knew that." She paused, waiting for any reaction. When she didn't get any, she simply smirked and went on.

"Anyway, the Theatre department- or rather, I- am putting on a production of Romeo and Juliet for the school, and… I couldn't help but noticing…" her black eyes focusing on Clary, "how much you resemble Juliet."

Clary raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Who, me? How?"

Isabelle shrugged, " I dunno, you just do. So I was wondering, how would you like to play Juliet in the play?"

"Are you serious?" Simon exclaimed, still in awe of standing in the presence of Isabelle Lightwood.

"Very," she said, without giving him a second glance. "I would have played the part myself, but I can't manage the play, direct it, and be in it. Plus, you have a kind of childish and innocent image. You're perfect!"

Clary chewed on her lip, a habit she seemed to have when she was indecisive.

" I don't know…."

"You don't have to tell me now. I'll give you the rest of the day. If you're interested," she reached in her purse and pulled out a piece of paper, "just come to the Clave Theatre this evening at 4:30. And this is my number. And please, "she shot daggers at Simon, "don't give this out to anyone at your liberty. It's an awful lot of pain. See you!"

And she bounced off, her long hair flowing like an elegant waterfall, and the fading noise of stiletto boots let them know she was gone.

Simon raised his eyebrows. "So…. What next?"