"Jonathan Herondale."
"Jace."
Mr. Valentine lifted his head from the print-out of students in his third period class, brows raised at the interruption.
"Excuse me?"
"My name is Jace."
"I didn't ask," the teacher replied bluntly, glancing back down at the page.
Jace snickered. Several of his fangirls giggled quietly, shooting him admiring glances. Everything he said or did was golden. Just like his perfectly styled hair. They ate it right up.
Isabelle Lightwood rolled her eyes. It was pathetic. She wouldn't be caught dead fawning over a boy. That's not to say she didn't have her eyes on several. But only an idiot with no hope of actually getting a date would make it so painfully obvious that she was crushing on a boy. Especially when half a dozen other girls were doing it, at the same time.
Fangirls might be fun for a night, to a boy like Jace. But nothing beyond. They were like cheerleaders – complimenting him when he already knew he was good. Brainless. And easy.
She rolled her eyes, filing one of her manicured nails. Well-kept nails aren't just important for looks. There's nothing that says 'get out of my face' like a four-finger scratch. She'd left Rodney with a clawmark to remember her by.
She lifted her head sharply, realizing that tall emo kid – what was his name? Maverick? was staring at her. She mouthed 'eye problem' to him, shooting him a glare, and he sent back a wide grin.
He was watching her nail-filing with interest. Jealous? She ignored him, and went back to work.
The bell rang sharply. Isabelle slid her bag over one shoulder and headed out of the class with the fast-paced click of heels. She had five minutes to scope the hall for Meliorne – the hottest foreign exchange student she'd ever seen! Having a deep, meaningful conversation was not one of her priorities – so she wasn't going to hold poor English against him.