I'm scared.

I am so, so scared.

My body courses with adrenaline, my head is spinning and my joints ache with the need to get out, out, out of there, out of this situation. I never should have agreed to this. This was a horrible plan. All the pep talks, all the counseling sessions, everyone saying you can do it! with cheery stretched smiles pulled over annoyingly white teeth. And I had believed it towards the end, too, and they finally convinced me to start attending school again. I agreed at a stronger moment. Now, though, it took all my willpower not to bolt out of the front office right that second, or turn into a pile of mush right where I was standing.

I cannot go through with this.

There's a young girl at the front desk, and her eyes light up when they see me, sweep my frame, candy pink lips smiling over crooked teeth. She says hi, she's been expecting me, I must be Jace, it's nice to meet you. I nod numbly, and she hands me a packet and a schedule and sends me on the way to my class, picking up a phone. Probably to call my family to let them know I had talked to her.

Progress, right?

"Try to make some friends, Jace." My mother had begged of me last night when I was crying about having to go to the hell called school, "You agreed to this, after all. You'll do fine, handsome boy like you is sure to make a few friends." But I don't want friends, I'd wanted to tell her, I'm only doing this to make you happy. I don't want anything to do with the world outside of you and me. The world is scary, and people are terrifying, and now, now I was being shoved into a big building full of the exact thing I hate.

Teenagers.

I take a step froward and grab the handle for the door leading out of the office and pull it open. There's hardly anyone in the hallway because I made sure to get here as late as I could without being on time. I wanted to avoid the mess of people flooding the hallways. Quickly, I pull out my schedule to see the room number of my first period. Pre-Calc, 218, Aten. I make my way 218, keeping my head down and hoping no one tries to make conversation with me. It's inevitable, because I'm new and it's the middle of the school year and I'm handsome, or so people have told me. I'm not going to be able to avoid conversation, but I can try my damn hardest to prevent it. News travels quickly in high schools, I've learned, and if I make myself out to be a surly guy who doesn't like the company of others, people won't mess with me. Probably.

But I'm not an acne-ridden Freshman anymore, like I was the first time I'd tried this whole school thing. I was a Junior, and I'd be expected to make nice with all the other students, and-

oh, God no.

I'd probably have to introduce myself in front of the class.

I chuckle a little bit. Maybe, if my mom and counselors forced me to go out more, I wouldn't have so much trouble with a simple task like standing in front of an entire class and saying Hi, my name is Jace Herondale. But I know it's not their fault. They've tried to make me go out before, but I've fought until they caved and let me stay home. Sometimes I go to the grocery store with my mom, and whenever I get back home I feel really proud of myself, and Mom kisses me and hugs me and unloads all the food all the while with a big smile on her face.

Maybe today will be like that. Maybe it'll be another grocery trip. Maybe tonight when I get home, I'll feel that great sense of accomplishment, and high school won't be so bad after all.

I make it to room 218, and enter without much thought. There's a teacher already in the classroom, and one other student who is probably there for tutoring. The teacher looks up from her laptop when I enter, her brown hair swinging in its bob.

A smile crawls across her face when she sees me, and she gets up from her desk and walks over to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. I stiffen. "Hello, dear! You must be Jace!"

I notice the other student in the room, the one who was bent over her math book just a second ago, is looking at me with piercing green eyes, and I gulp. I try not to return her gaze, but her curly red hair keeps calling my attention, so I settle with examining her out of the corner of my eye.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm Jace." I try to give her a shaky smile, but it probably comes out as more of a grimace.

The teacher nods, "I'm Mrs. Aten," she extends a hand for shaking, and I grasp it, realizing too late that my hand is probably drenched in sweat. Mrs. Aten keeps smiling, though. "Don't worry, hon, I'm completely aware of your, uhm..." she glances at the girl, who looks down quickly at her worksheet as if she hadn't just been listening in, "situation."

She whispers the word like it's a disease, and I want to smack her because I don't want the red-headed girl to go around spreading those kind of rumors. I'd already had to deal with all that shit – the "you're a freak" stuff – when I was in 9th grade. I didn't want to have to go through all that again. But instead I nodded, and Mrs. Aten pointed me to a desk towards the back of the room, telling me that the bell for class was almost about to ring, assuring me that she wouldn't make me stand up and introduce myself, in fact she wouldn't even introduce me, she'd just get on with her lesson as if I had been in her class the whole year. While I was secretly grateful, I kept shooting the girl who was doing her math homework wary glances as I sat down. Hopefully she wasn't one to gossip, otherwise I was roadkill.

I pull out a notebook and write 'precalc' on the front cover. When I look up I see the redhead has moved to sit in the seat next to me. My mouth goes dry and my heart starts hammering. Please don't talk to me, I pray, please, please don't talk to me.

But the girl takes a breath and, with a shy smile on her face says, "Hi, I'm Clary,"

I stare at her, blinking. I know I'm supposed to introduce myself, too, but all I do is mumble "hi" and turn back to my notebook.

The girl's shoulders slump, and she sits back in her seat. For a minute, she's quiet, but then she leans forward and tries to talk to me again. "Where did you go before here?"

I set my pencil down and sigh. "I was home schooled," I tell her shortly.

"Ah," she nods her head once, slowly, and it's then that the bell rings.

Students start to trickle into the classroom, and all eyes instantly hone in on me, and I bury my face into the notebook, my cheeks burning from all the stares. There are a few girls up at the front of the room whispering behind books and shooting glances at me.

The late bell rings, and Mrs. Aten starts teaching. When she turns around to the board, I glance at Clary and say, "I'm Jace."

Out of the corner of my eye I see a little smile flit across her face.