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"Hey! Watch it!" A random geek had yet juts shoved past Clarissa Fray. It wasn't not normal to be pushed around, even by the geeks and nerds. Typical day. Clary had already realized that there was no point in saying sorry, after all, they never listened.

She was early to class again, not that she had anything else better to do at lunch but draw and draw. It wasn't a hard life to live, she learned. She just had to accept the fact that nobody cared and that was that.

"Clary? Is that you?" The redhead sighed and walked into the classroom. At this point, she just wanted to cry and cry. Her mother never knew of her small 'encounters' around the side of the school where there were blood stains on the brick walls, she never knew about how she got pushed around and was hated by almost everyone in the school (except for her secret friend Isabelle which just so happened to be the sister of Jace, the top of the "people to know" list.

"Hi mom," she faked a smile and set her stuff down. Yes, Mrs. Fray was her teacher. She didn't like it much, but at least it was Art. Something that she got A's in, or her mother was an easy-marker.

"Is something wrong, honey?" she practically cooed it out.

"I'm fine," Clary lied, pulling her sweater sleeve down a couple of inches to hide the marks.

"If you say so. I trust your judgement. While you're here, can you set up the easels for me? We 're oil painting today." Clary finally didn't have to fake the smile. In an instant, she started moving things around and setting up brushes and paints. Sure they were expensive to buy, but this school was worth it. It was a private school that everyone would mistake for a public school. Everyone got to wear what they chose, and that was how people got mixed up. Other than that, it was all private school material. Clary had a free school fee just because her mother worked there. That wasn't how she wanted herself to get an education but it was better than no education at all.

Once the bell rang, Clary got her things that were left outside and let it lean against her own art easel up front.

The students started piling into the quiet classroom and took their seats. Most people tried to avoid Clary, but in the end, someone had to sit next to her. In the end, it was Jace. Clary knew that Jace had never sat next to her before, never talked to her before, never even seen her face, not even beaten her up, but he was still a popular kid. He was known for his 'heartbreaking tradition' and being a total player in general. Clary knew that he was the kind of person not to have anything against, but could do the least and ignore.

Mrs. Fray just went on and on about how to hold the charcoals right and what kind of things they had to paint. Clary did what she always did to make a masterpiece instead of listening to what her mother said since she already knew everything she had left to say. She closed her eyes and let her arm move her around. As she drew, the images in her mind would become clearer and clearer. Once her hand stopped, she opened her eyes to see the outlines of an angel. It was no regular angel. It looked like... a clock.

Clary shrugged and started to choose her colours for the gradient background and the clockwork. She decided to go with the different shades of brown today. By the end of the lesson, she had a background of a hardwood table with all the details proven strong.

"That's interesting. What is it?" a voice behind her said.

"A clockwork angel," Clary said simply, not even bothering to see who was behind her. She had just put the finishing touches on when everyone was done with cleaning up and were conversing together until the next bell rang.

"Where'd you get that from?" the voice asked again. It sounded so angelic to her.

"No where, just as I am no one." Clary dipped her head down and grabbed her paintbrushes, walking towards the sink and washing them thoroughly. As she was doing this, the person that held the voice stared at her intently.

"And how are you no one? You're a living being, so you must have a name." The person leaned against the sink and tried to get the redhead to look at him, but to no avail.

"If I told you, you'd run away," she said in a small voice. The person's eyes turned confused but didn't give up. Clary was beginning to feel annoyed, but she let it go. Finally, someone was talking to her and she was trying to send them away.

"I promise I won't." Clearly, this person was a male and definitely well developed with speech. He could made anything sound flirty.

"If you knew me personally, it'd ruin your reputation," she stated first, hoping he'd change his mind. Finally, she was done and she put her things back in the drawers at the back of the classroom where no one was allowed to go. Of course, she had her own rules in the art room for being Mrs. Fray's daughter.

"I just want to know your name. Is it so bad that you can't tell me?" Clary rolled her eyes. They were two months away from the summer holidays and here this boy was, trying to learn her name.

"Everybody hates me, in case you haven't noticed. If you knew my name, you'd try to find me, and once you find me, you're going to try to be my friend. And as I do to everybody else who tries to get near me, I say no. So unless you want to start that chain of rejection, don't keep trying. It's not going to work." Clary walked back to her seat and started to pack up her things.

"I'm willing to risk it," said the boy. The more mysterious this girl got, the more curious he would get. No surprise there, he was following her, observing her every move.

"Clarissa Fray." She finally admitted it and the boy stared in shock.

"You're our art teachers daughter?" Clary nodded at this. She was surprised that he didn't recognize the name. Everyone knew her as the freak that tried to stay hidden but couldn't possibly let that 'little piece of something' go to waste.

"Did you not see me not pay attention? I already knew what to do since I learned from her since I was five. I received an art scholarship at a university when I was around twelve. I turned it down though. I doubted that I could take that pressure at such a young age."

"You turned down a scholarship! Are you crazy?!"

"I was 12. What did you expect?" Clary pulled her bag over one shoulder and stared up at the speaker.

"You think I'm hot, don't you?" She rolled her eyes. She could admit it, though decided against it. He may have had his golden features, but nothing says 'danger' like someone with a large ego.

"If I say no, what would you do?"

"I'll make you see it. I must say, you are the first girl not to stutter against my charms." Again, another eye roll.

"Listen, Jace," she huffed, "I'm a girl who gets beaten up, called inappropriate names, and gets no attention unless it's negative. You're the complete opposite. No matter what you try to do, I'm always going to be on the bottom. Unless you can change this art geek into some biker chic which I'm sure has not been done in history, then just forget it. If you want to try and hunt me down, go ahead, people will start gossiping and it'll just be a bunch of false rumours going around the school. I don't need that kind of attention. I'm good with being tossed off to the side. Apart from that, I don't know what else is normal. I've had to live with it since I can remember. So, just remember these words: Find me, befriend me, do what you want, but that charm of yours, isn't going to work." Clary gave a heavy sigh and turned away. "Goodbye, Jonathan." Clary almost giggled at the name. No one knew that his real name was Jonathan other than those who had access to the register and such.

Quickly, before anything terrifying could happen to her, she left the classroom, turning around the corner just as the bell rang.

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