Summer Term

Summary: "...He's supposedly the hottie professor of the summer." "Ew, Izzy." "Don't tell me you wouldn't bang a hot professor."

Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments and all its associated characters, places and events all belong to Cassandra Clare and the copyright holders. This is a non-profit fan work and no copyright infringement is intended.

Acknowledgement: 1. Thank my awesomesauce beta for being so good about sending this back to me very quickly. She rocks my socks. 2. Also, thank rippingbutterflywings for pushing me to write at least one page a day, if not more. Seriously, thank these two ladies.

A/N: Thank you everyone for such a positive response! I'm so glad you all seem to like it. I'd just like to mention something real quick: I'll update this story depending on my school schedule. I barely had time this summer because I did take summer courses (where do you think the inspiration for this story came from? ;)), and it was pretty hard to update quickly. That being said, please bear with my schedule. I do intend on writing more chapters, but the updates will be slow.

Chapter Two: Substitutions

Ass.

That was what his name should have been. Ass. Or an asshole.

Was she talking to her neighbor the entire class like BB? Certainly not. Was she texting during class like BB? No. But that was mostly because Sebastian refused to communicate via phone while anyone he knew was being lectured to in school.

A large drop of water hit Clary on the forehead, pulling her out of her thoughts. She glanced up at the gray sky and frowned. Dark clouds rolled in and lightning sparked in the distance, threatening to drench her.

Hurriedly, she took out her keys from her bag and unlocked the door. Clary stepped inside and kicked the door shut. She tossed the keys onto the kitchen counter and headed up the stairs, straight for her room.

She was about to open the door when she noted it stood ajar. Clary frowned. Was her father snooping around in her room again? Checking to see if she was going to escape this hellhole? It wouldn't be the first time. She crossed the threshold and dropped her bag to the ground, when she noticed a dark-haired, slim girl lying on her bed.

"Izzy, what are you doing in my room?" Clary asked.

Isabelle sat up—still wearing the stylish clothes Clary had seen her earlier in—and waved her phone in the air. "Your boyfriend called to inquire where his wonderful girlfriend was."

Clary sighed and walked over to her bed, lying down on it. "I guess the reception sucked in the room."

Isabelle lay down beside her and handed Clary her phone. "Call him."

Clary smiled graciously at her. "Thanks."

She typed in Sebastian's phone number and waited for him to pick up. Within seconds, a warm voice flooded her ears.

"Hey, babe."

Clary closed her eyes and reveled in listening to her boyfriend's voice. "Hi."

"Where were you?"

She could imagine his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"Class. Dealing with crappy teachers. How was your day?"

He sighed on the other line. "Boring. I miss you."

"You can always come visit."

There was a pause. "You know I can't..."

"I know," Clary cut him off. "I get it."

"Only two more months."

Clary chewed her bottom lip. "How's-" She started asking when the phone was suddenly ripped from her hand.

She turned to glare at Izzy, who was busy talking into her cell.

"Sorry, Clary's boyfriend. It's girl time now. Have a great day!" she replied enthusiastically before turning her phone off.

"Izzy!" Clary glared.

"Sorry darling, but you can talk all night long when I'm gone."

Clary let some anger seep into her tone. "What now?"

Isabelle tapped her chin. "I want to know what happened with the ever-so-attractive-teacher today."

"I think you mean what didn't happen. He wasn't polite to me. He thought I was dumb, which is ludicrous when I understood absolutely everything he wrote on the blackboard. He suggested I need a tutor. He's practically asking to get fired."

Izzy's eyes glowed mischievously.

"I didn't say I was going to do that," Clary said quickly before her best friend could speak her mind.

Now Izzy's gaze turned pleading.

Clary rolled her, stood from her bed, and brought her bag over to her bed. "You're ridiculous," she said as she pulled out her math textbook, notebook, and phone.

"At least then you two can make out without any rules getting in the way."

"Isabelle Sophia Lightwood. Do I have to remind you that I have a boyfriend?"

She sighed. "No."

Just then, the phone in Clary's hand buzzed. She glanced down to see Simon's name, and slid her thumb across the screen to see his text.

Heyo, math buddy. Figure out #37 yet?

She smiled and typed back.

I haven't even started.

Clary looked up to find Izzy giving her a look.

"Who's that?" she nodded at the device.

She shrugged. "A friend I made in class," she said as her cell vibrated again. "In fact," Clary continued, "I have an idea."

"What's that?"

"Talk to him while I do homework. Oh, and please make sure to let him know that it's you who's talking to him. I don't want him getting weirded out."

Isabelle saluted. "Ay, ay, captain."

Clary tossed her mobile to her best friend and settled on her bed. She spread out her school belongings and opened the book to the first page of the chapter. Clary hadn't taken math in over a year, but she remembered clearly that before she started working on problems, she would look over and work through each example. People who knew what she did always criticized her. They told her it was pointless to solve extra math problems when there were already too many assigned. But that didn't bother her. Clary knew that everyone had his or her own way of succeeding, and this was her way.

Chapter 6.1: Integration by Parts.

Clary recalled this name all too well. Asshole had called on her and she didn't know the answer. Damn him. She was going to make sure that tomorrow, she wasn't going to make the same mistake. If Asshole was going to call on her, she was sure as hell answering him. Correctly, of course.

Clary scanned the next couple of pages, occasionally yawning. She memorized the formula (out loud) she was supposed to use for the following questions in the section. Izzy would roll her eyes at her now and then, but she didn't know how important this was for Clary. If she didn't pass this damn class, her father would stop paying for college. And she did not have enough money on her hands to pay thousands of dollars.

She worked on all the "evaluate the integral" questions with ease. Oddly, she had begun to enjoy solving them, but only if she got them right in the end, which fortunately for her, happened often. Clary would look up at her best friend from time to time, to find her smiling at Simon's texts. She was forever grateful that Izzy was enjoying his company, even though it was virtual at this point. But she hoped it would grow into something more.

Clary thought back to the period of time when Isabelle and her had a fight.

From the day Clary landed herself a boyfriend, Izzy had always wanted to meet him. But for some reason, Clary kept dodging the bullet. It wasn't that Sebastian was a bad guy, because he wasn't. But something about him made Clary very dependent on him. And that was a quality Isabelle loathed.

Circumstances got even worse after that. Isabelle soon realized that Clary and Sebastian were growing more and more clingy everyday. That was one of the worst days Clary had gone through. Clary admitted it was her fault. She shouldn't have forgotten about Izzy, but she also didn't want to lose spending time with her boyfriend. She wasn't great at handling two things to begin with, so she had no clue how to fix the situation.

Thankfully, Izzy came around and helped Clary. She made sure she figured out how to be an independent girl. And Clary did figure it out. Because of her best friend, she had the best relationship with her boyfriend.

Since Isabelle assisted her through her problems, Clary wanted something good to happen to Izzy too. And she suspected her math buddy would have something to do with it.

It had poured thunderously outside until Isabelle left her house.

"I swear this state hates me," she muttered as she had tied her boots and popped open her simple, black umbrella.

Clary was about to argue with her regarding that subject, but the rain had miraculously stopped as soon as Isabelle was out of sight. Thankfully, too, because Clary was so used to the warm weather in California, that she wasn't ready for this humidity and rain in New York.

She walked over to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Her stomach growled as she scanned through the delicious options. Clary finally settled on frozen pizza. Something nice and easy, and very, very scrumptious.

Clary stuck the pizza in the microwave and wandered over to her phone, sitting on the island. Her brows furrowed as she slid it to unlock and found a voicemail notification from Valentine. She touched the screen and her father's voice was soon resounding in the kitchen.

"Clarissa," he said. It was as if he was standing right next to her. "I will be stuck at work until very late—possibly until tomorrow morning. Lock the doors before you head to sleep, and I will see you before you leave for class."

A beep sounded, indicating the message was over. Clary sighed in relief. At least she could sit at home comfortably tonight, talk more with her boyfriend, and watch movies on Netflix until she fell asleep. It sounded like a blissful night.

But, what she wanted to do and what happened instead were two completely different things. Unfortunately, Clary realized she hadn't finished her online homework, which was additional to her written one. She also had forgotten to read the next chapter in the book, to stay ahead of the class. So instead of watching more episodes of One Tree Hill, Clary read and worked on problems.

And before she realized, her eyes closed. She dreamt of a blond-haired and a golden-eyed man.

A loud noise clanged near Clary's ear, causing her to fall off the couch. She rubbed her eyes and looked around to find Valentine bent over pieces of glass near the TV. Clary stood and blinked to get a clearer view of what was going on in front of her. Her father was on the phone, which was pressed between his shoulder and his right ear. His hands were bleeding as he picked up the shards and the flowers that were in the vase.

Clary's brows furrowed. "Dad?"

Valentine glanced up at her, anger flashing through his eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?" he hissed as he covered the mouth piece.

"I-um," she stuttered. "I fell asleep studying last night."

"I have clients coming in," his voice grew harder. "Either leave or get a change of clothes before they arrive. I cannot have them seeing my daughter looking like a rag doll."

Clary smiled sweetly and let some venom seep into her tone. "Aw, at least I look like a doll to you. How long has it been, father, since you've had a genuine conversation with me?"

Valentine narrowed his eyes and stood, then muttered into his phone before he set it on the table.

"Watch your tongue, young lady."

"No." Clary was being stubborn, and she knew it, but this was the only way to get a rise out of her father. She wanted to fight with him. She wanted to fight with him on everything he threw upon her ever since her mother died. She wanted to talk about Jocelyn's death-not ignore it like it never happened.

"You know what? I don't think I'll go anywhere." Clary plopped on the couch behind her. "I'd love to meet these troubled clients."

For a split second, confused crossed Valentine's face. "Troubled?"

"Anyone that uses you as their lawyer must be troubled."

And of course, then confusion was replaced with anger. His eyes hardened. "You should get going, Clarissa," he hissed, "before you say anything else you shouldn't."

"Whatever," Clary muttered, and pushed herself off the couch. She gathered her school belongings and headed for her room. Clary glanced at the clock above her desk and noticed she had about an hour to get to class. Quickly, she picked out clothes she knew Isabelle would approve of, and one Valentine would not. All the more reason to wear it.

She padded over to her bathroom and hung her clothes on the hook before turning on the faucet. Hot water sprayed from the nozzle as she stepped into the stream. For the first time in a very, very long time, Clary was enjoying her shower. She enjoyed thinking about how she would answer Mr. Herondale's questions today in class. She enjoyed thinking about how she would show BB that she knew more than her. A huge smile spread across her lips as Clary imagined flirting with Mr. Herondale in front of—

Clary paused. Flirting with Mr. Herondale? Was she going crazy? She shook her head and turned off the supply of the water. Maybe she should call Sebastian. Or text him. Or just look at some of his pictures. Anything. She should not be thinking of Mr. Herondale in that way. Not even how he might look with his shirt off, or naked in the shower...

Shut up, Clary, she scolded herself. You're not helping anyone.

With even more speed than before, Clary dried and toweled her hair. She stepped into a short, black skirt, and pulled on floral-printed purple shirt. Afterward, Clary proceeded to tame her wild, fiery curls, and settled with a high ponytail, with a wavy strand loose in front of her face.

Clary contemplated if this was too much for just a class, but she figured it was worth it if Valentine would yell at her. But, when she descended the stairs, she couldn't find him. She crossed the room and peeked out the window, only to find an empty space where her father's Mercedes had been.

She sighed, trudged back to her bedroom, and packed her bag for class. She would have to deal with Valentine later. For now, she wanted to pretend she didn't have a bad relationship with her father. And that was exactly what she was going to do.

"I see you're all working diligently on the warm-up," Mr. Herondale said.

Clary looked up to find him leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he scanned his students. Today, he wore a loose green t-shirt matched with khaki shorts. She'd never imagined khaki shorts were attractive, but somehow, Mr. Herondale looked... too good in them. He seemed like someone who could be a model for Hollister or Abercrombie & Fitch. Someone with great blond hair. Someone with toned arms. Someone with—

"Whatcha get for the answer, Ginge?"

She smiled and glanced at Simon, who sat to her left again. The minute his eyes spotted Clary in the sea of students, he quickly had made his way over to her and plopped into the seat next to her. She was glad she had someone like him in her life. He brought a smile to her face everytime they spoke.

"I don't know. I got distracted," she replied honestly.

He rolled his eyes and pointed to the solution written neatly on his paper. "Copy it down before he calls on you."

"I doubt it." But nevertheless, Clary copied the answer onto her piece of paper and went back to doodling.

"As you all might have noticed from the syllabus online, on Tuesdays, the class will be split in half. I'll lecture for about an hour or so, and the other hour will be recitation. Recitation will be taught by an assistant of mine, and she will give you guys practice problems to do," Mr. Herondale said.

Everyone groaned.

"I know this news must be a shock to you all—to not being able to see my face the entire time—but I assure you, Aline is almost as beautiful as I am," he continued. "Almost."

"I'd love to see this girl named Aline," Simon murmured beside her.

Clary smacked him upside the head. "What happened to giving Izzy a try?"

"Hey," he complained, rubbing his head, "I'm a guy. I like to survey the species before settling on a fish."

She blinked in confusion, but let it drop. It seemed like when Simon was in his "I'm a guy and this is what we do" mode, there was nothing that could stop him. Except perhaps Dungeons and Dragons, which he kept mentioning he loved playing, and hoped Isabelle did too. But little did he know, Isabelle was allergic to anything video game-related. Clary believed that on their date, later on in the afternoon, the conversation would cover Simon's nerd side.

"Has anyone figured out the answer?" Mr. Herondale asked, but his gaze landed on Clary instead of anybody else.

She felt blood pool in her cheeks and looked away hastily. What was it about him that made her feel like a high-schooler? She wasn't sixteen anymore, so why the feeling of shyness?

"Great, come on up and explain it to us," he spoke to a sandy-haired boy sitting in the very back.

The boy finished the problem in no time and returned to his seat.

Mr. Herondale inspected the solution and bobbed his blond head when his eyes came across a step that was correct.

"Alright," he said at last, "That was done correctly. If anyone has any questions, ask your neighbor, or come to office hours after class today. I'll be in my office all afternoon," he paused and raised his brows at the students. "Am I really that boring to listen to that I get no response?"

People shook their heads while Simon nodded. Clary let out a giggle and quickly placed her hand over her mouth to cover the sound.

Mr. Herondale pursed his lips. "Do I need to tell you guys a story about my life to make sure everyone's still alive?"

"Yeah!" Everyone replied enthusiastically.

Mr. Herondale rolled his eyes. "Now you guys say something."

"Please, Mr. Herondale?" BB begged.

He turned his back to her. "Once we're done with this chapter. Let's get on with trigonometric integrals and substitutions."

And so the lecture began. Clary tried focusing, but Simon's consistent bobbing of his leg distracted her. Every few seconds or so, she would kick him, hoping that would make him stop, but it kept getting worse. After a bit, she decided to text him. She fished out her phone from her bag and typed her question.

What is up with your leg?

Since Simon kept his phone on the table, next to all his school belongings, there was a loud buzz when Clary's message was received to him. Thankfully, people were too busy hanging on to their teacher's every word to notice what was happening around them.

Simon took his cell and hid it under the table to open up the text.

Clary wrote down everything that was on the board, and to make her notes prettier, she added a couple sunflowers, roses, and other random flowers on the page. In the corner, she started drawing a sun, when her phone vibrated. She peeked at what Simon said.

Date with Isabelle.

She raised her brows, and wrote back.

Your leg is nervous that you have a date with my best friend?

"Hey, Aline."

Clary and Simon both looked up to find a dark-haired girl, with sharp, yet pretty features standing near the doorway. She wore a simple blue dress and tugged on the strap of her backpack.

"Hey, handsome."

Mr. Herondale flashed her a smile. "You've got pretty good timing."

She grinned. "I know."

He faced the students. "Everyone, Aline. Aline, everyone. Get to know each other. Learn. Practice. I'll be in my office if anyone needs me, or if anyone wants to see my face." Mr. Herondale grabbed his folder and water bottle from the table.

Clary hoped he'd stay, but unfortunately she knew he wouldn't. She looked at the page in front of her, filled with notes and doodles. One more hour left. How was she going to make it?

"Clary?"

She raised her head to find Mr. Herondale making his way toward her instead of leaving.

She furrowed her brows. "Is something wrong?"

"You need to come with me."

Thank you for being awesome. xoxo