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Sharks and Tight Pants

Clary P.O.V

The bleak grey building looms over me, blocking the summer sun with its gloomy outline - Ellis High you have not been missed. The building itself is boringly plain in aesthetic with acne plagued and sleep deprived students milling around its corridors. The old main doors screech their protest upon my entrance; almost as if they know they're fixed into a crumbling ruin needing to finally meet its end. As if he came as a package deal, behind the main desk sits a greying secretary slumped over the latest edition of Golfer's Weekly - I wonder how great a read it will be when the poor guy sees he's drooled on the contents of pages 6 and 7. Shaking my head with a small smile, I move to fight my way through the bustle of students towards the stairs.

"Little Miss Red, if you don't hold up I'm going to have a serious wardrobe malfunction!" Magnus, my best friend since forever, glides his way through the throng of the crowd to where I'm angled towards the staircase.

"I swear, if this is about sudden movements causing glitter loss I will leave you behind with, what do you call them? The fashion blind?" I chuckle at Magnus' sudden look of disapproval.

"Clary, you can't say it as if it's their fault," he whisper shouts, "Fashion isn't just what we wear - It's a statement, an art form and an educational process," He tsks at me, "I thought I'd taught you better than that."

I chuckle at Magnus' madness as we climb the stairs together, "So what is the wardrobe malfunction threat this time?"

Magnus looks sheepish and his cheeks flush with colour. I hear him mutter something, "Sorry, I didn't quite catch that." Magnus gives me a dramatic look of agony before whipping his head around violently to assess the possibility of being overheard.

"If I move too quickly this yummy ass of mine will be on full display." I look at Magnus for further elaboration, to which he rolls his eyes and all but hisses, "These fashion genius pants are tighter than my Aunt Sandra's tummy tuck."

I think I almost die of laughter holding onto Magnus' shoulder to keep me grounded as I double over, Magnus' unamused expression only making it worse, "Yes, Clary. Laugh at my pain and the potential of my reputation falling into ruin."

"I'm sorry, Magnus," I breathe trying to regain my composure, "Why would you buy something so tight if you're forced to walk like you've got a rod up your ass all day for the privilege?"

Magnus gives me a look as if he can't quite understand the level of stupidity my question is on, "Do I look like the kind of guy who sag's his pants and parades around like the buffoons on the football team? Don't even answer that because the answer is no - I'm a classy man, Clary. The tighter the better."

"Now if a girl said that she'd be written off as a slut," I comment meeting Magnus with an almost parental eye.

Magnus rolls his in return, "Your feminism is not required with me dearest. Besides, everyone loves a little scandal in their lives," Magnus wiggles his eyebrows, "I believe finding you a rebound falls under the duty of best friend, does it not?"

I shake my head at the lunatic I chose as a lifelong partner in crime, "Absolutely not going to happen. This year I just want to focus on getting into Art School and... Do not say it!"

Magnus puts his hands up in mock surrender, "Alright, no need to start your threats little Red… But I told you so."

"I told you not to say it!"

"Well it's out there now and we can move on from this moment with the knowledge that Magnus is always right and Clary should consult with Magnus, the most important man in your life by the way, before pursuing any future romantic interests."

"Does that mean I get a say in the men you date?"

Magnus chuckles, "Absolutely not. I'm a shark Clary, I smell blood and I go in for the kill."

"You're a psycho."

"Pretty sure I just said shark."

Magnus and I continue with our pointless rant all the way to English where we take our seats side by side. It's the start of senior year, the finish line is so close I can practically taste it - One more year and I'll be at Art School.

Mr. Jamieson is already at his desk, his mop of brown curls covering his brow and his thick rimmed glasses perched on the end of his nose as he reads through some notes - He can't be older that 30 with a waif like build and nervous disposition accustomed with lack of experience. To give him his dues, the man truly did love his subject and spent most of his down time planning these lessons which can be observed from the extensive notes he prepares the night before.

"Alright, good morning. I don't expect you to say it back, being pulled out of bed simply to listen to me prattle on about dead writers is not exactly a picture perfect start to your day but please, bear with me." Mr. Jamieson takes to the board scrawling across its expanse an outline of this years syllabus.

"Ooh," Magus swoons, "Tall, blonde and mysterious is looking mighty fine today."

I don't even need to look at Magnus' mischievous grin to know that the tall, blonde and mysterious he was referring to was Jace Wayland. He sits at a corner desk way up the back of the classroom, never sits beside anyone else and never talks to anyone else. My knowledge of Mr. untouchable is limited merely to the observations Magnus made of him last year whilst ogling the poor boy. I know for a fact he's not Magnus' type and the only reason Magnus brings him up to me is due to a small but very embarrassing run in I had with Jace as a junior; I came round the corner, another guy came round the same corner, books flew and always the graceful I stumbled and flattened Jace with my landing sending his coffee everywhere. Magnus had swooped in to my rescue and came pretty close to death by laughing fit after plucking me from the scene and my humiliation.

Since then, I have avoided Jace Wayland at all costs.

The rest of the day moves along sluggishly as if it wishes to make us suffer on our first day back. When the end of the day finally comes, I race out of the hellhole and throw myself into my car. As always, Magnus is sitting waiting for me in the passenger seat. Since passing my test, I've entrusted my spare car key to Magnus for safe keeping which he uses to his full advantage - I can walk out at 7am and find Magnus in my car pleading with me to take him to the latest sale at his favourite store.

"I cannot tell you the struggle I'm going to have getting these off," Magnus sighs dramatically gesturing to his pants.

I shake my head but smile, "I'm not helping you." Magnus huffs with a pouted lip and folded arms, "Can one of your eye candy's not do it for you?"

Magnus pats my knee and looks sympathetic and voices his next words as if speaking to a child, "Honey, these may look like sexy pants but they are most certainly not sexy pants if you catch my meaning - They're removal takes too long and it would kill the mood."

"I find that ice-cream doesn't judge what pants I'm wearing; you should try it."

Magnus chuckles and shakes his head, "Oh honey, we need to get you a man and quickly before you start adopting stray cats."

"There's nothing wrong with being single," I defend.

"There's everything wrong with treating an inanimate object like a companion for a prolonged stretch of time," he counters.

"You need to get off this boyfriend band wagon with my mum - I'm fine I promise."

Magnus gives me a knowing look, "You will be, but who says you can't have a little fun along the way?" He grins from ear to ear.

"You're incorrigible."

"I prefer genius."