Author's Note: A great big hello to everyone who reads this! Honestly, thank you so much for taking the time! I really appreciate it. And also, I know that Clace has not been mentioned yet, and I am sorry for that. I just needed to introduce everything first. Read on for that relationship...:)

Disclaimer: I do not own The Mortal Instruments, or the characters in it, in any way, shape, or form. That honour goes to the brilliant Cassandra Clare. I do, however, own the plot in this story.

After the drama of the morning, Jon offers me a ride to school. I suspect that he feels guilty for opening up the Pandora's box of my relationship issues with my mother. I don't mind, though. I'll take any excuse to avoid the stinky yellow hunk of human sweat that usually transports me there.

Today, however, the weather may have made today's ride more bearable. It was gorgeous outside, September's autumn hues offering the perfect canopy for stray sparks of sunlight. Warm rays streamed down all around me, making me smile the way only perfect weather could. I laughed up at the billowy clouds painted onto a soft baby blue sky. And so, as we pulled up to Clave High School, for the first time in a while, I was grinning.

"Don't let anyone strangle you to death." So comforting, Jon.

Closing the car door behind me, I walked up onto the school campus, keeping my eyes to myself. While everyone else flitted from group to group, chatting and laughing, I trained my gaze to the floor, avoiding the occasional face that would turn questioningly to me. I never understood everyone's incessant need to be noticed. If you have at least one friend, someone to listen to you and care about you, then you have what you need. Fortunately, I did. That honour went to my best friend in the world, Simon Lewis.

While Simon was a geeky, shy introvert, I loved him. We had first bonded over a shared pack of Skittles in first grade, and had been going strong ever since. Simon was my other half, the one who knew me almost as well as I knew myself. He was the person who could tell what I was feeling by the slightest twitch of my face, or the smallest exhale of breath. When you have a friend like that, you just want to hold on tight and never let go.

Simon was the last thing on my mind, though, as I paced purposefully across the school campus. The noise in the hallways was killing me; tiny, floating whispers accumulating into a collective roar that grated painfully against my ears. I needed space and quiet. I desperately craved the meditative peace that only true solitude could bring. I knew just the place from years of escaping torturous classroom lectures with excuses of small bladders and feigned headaches. As I rounded the corner, a small, relaxed smile settled itself onto my lips.

The school garden was magnificent, a mass collection of brilliant shades and hues. Hundreds, maybe thousands of beautiful blooms opened their petals up to the sun's warm rays as if attempting to touch the sky. In the miniscule spaces that the flowers hadn't managed to conquer, tiny patches of grass fought for dominance, green despite the lack of room from the jealous buds. Ivy covered the walls from head to toe, the vines intertwining themselves into every nook and cranny imaginable. It was beautiful; one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen.

Here, I could finally let my guard down. For once, no one was watching me. I sank down to the ground, back against the wall, exhaling in pure relief. My head fell to my knees, and then the tears started to come, like a tide rushing in to the shore. I hadn't cried in so long, hadn't even allowed myself, that I didn't even question the timing of it all. I was so fed up, so exhausted, from pretending like my mom's stony silence hadn't even affected me at all, that for this one stolen moment, I just let myself cry shamelessly and heartrendingly. The tears streamed down in rivulets, soaking my cheeks and forming their own tiny little rivers. As the rivers dripped off on to the ground, the soft patters soothed me, just like raindrops on top of a roof, lulling you to sleep as you lay in your bed.

"I would say that you look ravishing, and that no one will even notice the red, puffy eyes, but then I'd be lying."

I spun around, cranky and embarrassed, to see one of the most attractive guys I had ever seen staring down at me. His hair hung down in waves, gently curling and golden around his face, which did nothing for my concentration. His skin had a golden sheen to it, just like a master artist had swiped a metallic paint lightly over the entirety of his skin. The most breathtaking thing about him, though, were his gorgeous eyes. Pure gold amber eyes were trained on me, framed by long lashes that girls would die for, and boys are miraculously gifted with. This was a face that was kind, was beautiful, and would make me do anything. A girl would kill just for a look from those immaculate eyes.

That was when I noticed the self-satisfied and knowing smirk on his face.

"I would say that most people who insult others usually do because they are insecure or unhappy with themselves. Which is to say that they're know-it-all, pompous jerks."

The cocky smile that he had plastered onto his face faltered, just a little bit. I felt a small tug of pleased victory inside me.

He sauntered over to sit beside me. "What would you say that my issue is, then?"

I took a deep breath, trying my best not to look at him as I replied. "Oh, you know, the usual. Daddy issues, Mommy issues, rebellion, fear of the world, angst, fear of rejection, homicide, patricide, fratricide-"

"Whoa, wait. What? You think I'm a murderer?" he asked, desperately attempting to keep the corners of his mouth from tugging up. He had a nice mouth and lips. Full and smooth-

Wait, what was I thinking? I mentally shook myself.

"It could be possible," I replied demurely. "You never know. Anyways, I gave you options. Pick one."

He laughs confidently. "I guess I'll go with fear of rejection, then. It seems the least deadly of them all. Although, if I'm being completely honest here, I feel like that's a rather ludicrous and irrational fear for me to have, given my extreme good looks and charm."

I snorted, although what he said was completely true. "Yeah, right. Are you sure that your issue isn't self-absorbtion? If it's not, I'd like to add it to your list of options."

Feigning a bullet wound to the heart, he staggers back against the wall. "Oh! You've just wounded me deeply. I'm hurt."

I giggled. "Sure you are. And I'm the Princess of Wales."

"A debate for another time, then." he sighs, as my heart skips a beat. Another time? He looks over at me intently. "As I recall, though, a certain someone was certainly crying her eyes out when I happened upon her in the school garden. Care to share your issue?" Leaning in intently, his golden eyes locked on mine, intrigued.

I shook myself of his gaze, feeling the pain and hurt of the event crashing back in on me. Great. I had just started to forget about it all, and now it decides to come back, ruining everything. I stuttered unattractively, trying in vain to come up with some lie to excuse my excessive blubbering. I came up dry. "Um..." I muttered. "Well, you know, I just landed this role in this school play, and there's this really emotional scene. I just decided to, you know, practice to make sure that my tears don't come across as fake onstage, you see?" I stumbled, hoping that I had won his trust.

The blond-headed boy nodded intently, seeming just the slightest bit disappointed. "I see. Well, I'll leave you to your practice now...?"

"Clary. Clary Fray."

"Well, Clary Fray, pleased to meet you. And I'm Jace. Jace Herondale."

As he stood up to leave, he left me with a sharp pang in my chest, wishing that he wouldn't. What the heck? I watched him leave, smooth and confident as it seemed he always would be.

In a few moments, after I had collected myself, I followed suit, gliding through the school doors, composed and serene once more. The day raced by, a rustle of papers, pens scratching, and teachers faintly calling somewhere in my mind. Though the whole day, though, my mind kept playing back to a single frame: a single boy with a blond mop of hair, head back and laughing against the school wall.

Jace.

Alright, thank you so much for reading! If you do, would you please leave a review in the comments box? It would mean so much to me, and would really make my day! (or inspire me to begin writing another chapter) :) All constructive criticism is welcome, as it helps me to become a better writer. Please even tell me if this is good so far, so I know whether to continue. Thanks!

-Zoe37