Sorry about the long wait. I hate waiting for updates, so I'm totally sympathetic. Or is it empathetic? I guess it's both. Anyway, if there are any dry spells in the updating department, it's because of writer's block or massive amounts of homework. Thank you so much to my reviewers; I can't believe I got 13! That's almost twice the goal I was trying to reach. You guys rock.

Chapter 7

After the somewhat disastrous conversation with Clary in art class, Jace went to the gym, only to find two things. (1): Simon was in his class.

(2) The gym uniforms could have passed for gymnast leotards. They were purple-and-white bodysuits—long-sleeved, thank God-with a pair of shorts to hide the "junk" that could pop out at any moment.

Jace quickly changed in the locker room and walked out into the gym, glad the guys looked just as douchey as he did.

Simon saw him and waved him over. Jace made his way to where Simon was standing. He was talking to Jordan, Maia's boyfriend. The two were laughing about something when Jace reached them.

"I love the leo on you," said Jordan with a smirk. "The color sets off your eyes." He pretended to swoon. Jace flipped him off while Simon snorted.

"So. What do you think of this hellhole so far?" asked Simon.

"Teachers and classes suck for the most part, but the chicks are pretty hot here," said Jace.

"You and Clary seem to be hitting it off," said Jordan with another smirk.

Jace shrugged. "When she's not biting my head off, she's not half bad. Izzy mentioned you two used to be friends, Si. What happened with that?"

Simon looked slightly un-comfortable. "She's seemed to hate me ever since I started going steady with Izzy. I'm not sure why. She was the one who wanted me to get a girlfriend. And it's not like I ditched her."

"Women never know what they want," said Jordan sagely. "One minute, Maia wants to fuck till the sun comes up. The next, she's trying to chop my ba—"

"We don't need to know that," said Simon with a shudder.

"Prude," Jace said disgustedly. "Do you think—"

"All right, jackasses! Listen up!"

Jace turned to see a balding middle-aged man striding into the gym. He wore athletic shorts and a Tommy Bahama Hawaiian-print shirt that didn't exactly match them. He wore a whistle on a silver chain around his neck, and Jace had a feeling that his eardrums would be ruptured by the end of the semester.

"I know some of you are new this year, so I'm gonna sum up this class. You do what I say, when I say it, no arguments. You got any injuries, transfer out of this class. I don't tolerate sprained ankles or fractured kneecaps or any of that crap. Anyone need to go make a schedule change?"

When nobody moved, the coach grinned, though Jace thought it looked more like a crocodile's grin than anything else.

"Great. So, you sissyass losers, it's my job to whip your butts into shape. So, today, you'll be running two miles, just to see how much stamina you slugs have. And don't bother complaining, Sebastian Verlac. I may see you run at football practice, but you're just one of the girls in this class. Right! Get your asses to the track!"

Clary knew she would hate chemistry from the moment she'd seen it on her schedule card.

When she walked into Mr. Stern's class and saw the seating chart, she wanted to shoot herself on the spot.

Her lab partner was none other than Isabelle Lightwood, who would probably be doing her makeup the whole time. And to top it off, the small table she and Isabelle would be sharing was right next to Aline and Kaelie's.

Grumbling to herself about how there should have a "no bimbo" policy in AP chem (where they worked with acid and fire), Clary settled herself on one of the stools at the table from hell, took out a piece of paper, and started to doodle absently. She looked down at what she'd drawn in shock; it was Jace, only he had gorgeous angel wings sprouting from his back. How the hell had that happened? Sure, Jace had several angelic features—his hair, eyes, perfect body (God, she had to get a grip on herself.)—but he was no angel, and he was way more, wait, less—less gorgeous in real life.

Clary felt a tap on her shoulder and hastily crumpled her sketch. Clary. She looked up to see Isabelle smiling a little awkwardly at her.

"Hey," said Izzy, pushing a tendril of dark hair behind her ear. "I guess we're lab partners." She took her Prada bag and sat on the stool beside Clary. Clary watched Isabelle pull out an eye-liner pen and begin to reapply her makeup. Clary sighed—it would be a long year if this was how it was going to be.