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Disclaimer: I do not own anything regarding The Mortal Instruments series.

-Clary-

After Simon and I leave the apartment complex, we head down the block towards the school. That knot in my stomach that I have been trying to avoid seems to be getting tighter and tighter. Simon is going on about something regarding a high score he broke last night on some video game when we turn the corner and Alicante High comes into view.

Simon seems to notice that I'm not paying any attention to what he is saying because he stops in his tracks and turns his body to look at me. "Fray? Hello? Anybody in there?" He jokes as he waves a hand in front of my face.

"Sorry," is my only response. I've walked past the school numerous times in the past month with Simon, but it has always been deserted. Now? There are people everywhere. There are kids walking from other streets, cars turning into the parking lot, people scurrying inside trying to make it to class on time. I don't think we're late, but I ask anyways.

"Nah," Simon shakes his head, "we've got a good five minutes before the actual bell rings. You sure you're okay? You're kind of quiet," he adds as an afterthought.

I give him a smile and start walking towards the school's entrance, trying not to bump into the other people walking up the stairs. "Really Si, I'm fine, just want to get the first day out of the way, ya know?"

"Boy do I ever."

We make it through the front doors and Simon leads me down the right side of the hallway and down a small corridor where I guess the office is. I haven't actually been in the school yet, so I have no idea where anything is, and I need to get my schedule. Simon already has his since the school mailed returning student's schedules home about two weeks ago. New kids aren't so lucky.

Halfway down the hall I can see the office with its clear glass windows. We stop right before the open doorway.

Simon looks at me with the slightest bit of concern in his face. "Are you sure you don't want me to wait? I mean, I can at least show you to your first class once you find out what it is."

That earns him another smile. Jon would approve of Simon offering to stick by me. "Oh no, trust me," I had started every year of high school somewhere different, "I've been through it three times already, I'll be good. Besides, a new kid being late to class on the first day is okay. You really don't have that excuse."

He doesn't seem to have an argument to that, but he still grumbles about it being okay if he's late for his first period since it is Phys. Ed. Simon hates any sort of physical activity that doesn't involve sitting in front of a TV with a game controller.

I give him a look that says 'I'll be fine' to which he responds with a gallant bow, saying, "Until lunch m'lady." I playfully shove his shoulder while laughing, and he gives me a wink before heading further down the hallway.

My meeting with the guidance counselor goes better than I expected. When I had first walked in, the lady at the front desk directed me towards the door of Mr. Starkweather, guidance counselor of student's last names A through M. He was an older man, short, with graying hair, and he looked like he had a semi-permanent scowl on his face, but he ended up being nice, and very helpful.

"Ms. Fray, I see that you are interested in art," he commented as he glanced over my file and transcripts.

"That's right," I replied, "I plan on applying to the Art Institute of New York City and the School of Visual Arts soon for next year. I'm considering NYU too." I thought about this a lot. There was nothing I would like to do more with my life than learn everything there is to know about sketching, painting, sculpting, and everything in between.

"Well," he said with a smile, "it's nice to see a senior who actually has a plan for what they want to do next year." That's right. The plan was to lay low this year, not cause any unwanted attention, work on my art portfolio, and get into an art school. I had a set plan that was going to get me there, and nothing was going to mess that up.

I nodded my head, wanting to get my schedule already.

"After looking at your transcripts, it seems that you would have an extra period open even with you taking the art elective," he began saying, "How would you like if I put you into the advanced art class as well?"

I think the immediate joy in my eyes gave me away. "That- That would be amazing!" Two art classes every day? I'd take it.

He gave me a smile of his own, continuing, "The pictures of your art in your file give me no doubts that you would do just fine in the class. I would hope that you would use the time to work on your portfolio for those colleges of yours." Yes Mr. Starkweather, you are following my plan exactly.

"Oh I plan on it," I said while grinning. "Is there anything else? Or can I head to class?"

He handed me two pieces of paper, my schedule and a map, over his desk, and told me that I was free to leave. I thanked him again and headed out of his office into the main office, and then out into the hallway.

Now I look down at my schedule, seeing that I have general art first period and advanced art at the end of the day. Both classes are taught by Madame Dorthea. I knew I would be taking art, so I had asked Simon about the teacher. My schedule says Mrs. Dorthea, but Simon had warned me never to call her that unless I wanted to be poked with a paint brush, or a crayon, or a pencil, or whatever else was in her hands at the moment.

From what I can tell on the map that Mr. Starkweather gave me, the art room is just down the end of this hall on the right. Or am I looking at it wrong and it's down the other end on the left? I take my chances and knock on the door on the right and open it. A wave of smells hit me, ranging from paint fumes to crayons. I've guessed right.

The knot in my stomach loosens ever so slightly. I can do this on my own, without Jon.

A woman, who very much reminds me of one of those fortune tellers that charge people for fake readings, is standing in front of a class of about twenty students. She has a very colorful dress on and bangles on her wrists almost up to her elbows. Unlike every other art class I have had in school, this one is set up with desks that have two seats at each one. The woman, and every other person in the room, turns to look at me as I walk in.

"Can I help you?" The woman, who I assume is Madame Dorthea asks.

I trudge my way down the side of the room while saying, "Is this general art?"

She smiles as knowing crosses her face. "Oh! You must be the new student! Mr. Starkweather mentioned that you may be joining us. Tell me dear, what is your name?"

"Clarissa," I answer, "Clarissa Fray, but everybody calls me Clary." I am painfully aware of the twenty or so pairs of eyes still staring at me now that I'm standing right next to Madame Dorthea at the front of the room. She reaches her hand out and I hand her my schedule.

She looks down at it and smiles, "well Clary, I see we will be getting to know each other very well this year." I can only assume that she saw I had her last period as well. I smile.

"Where are you from my dear?" She asks with interest gleaming in her eyes.

"I moved from Miami about a month ago," I answer.

"As in Florida?" Someone asks, a girl who has far too much makeup on and a skirt that cannot possibly follow dress code. "But you're skin is so pasty. A ghost has more color than you." Several students begin to snicker. I can feel the burn beneath my cheeks, but I smile. There's a reason my nickname is Fireball, and it's not just because of my hair.

"Now Kaelie-," Madame Dorthea starts, but I interrupt.

"No, it's okay. I'm glad the sunscreen did its job," I say with a smirk, "maybe you should try the real sun sometime instead of turning orange in a tanning bed. It clashes with the bleached blonde hair." I stare down at her.

There are even more laughs and snickers now and some oh's from the class, but I get a death glare from the girl whose name is apparently Kaelie.

Madame Dorthea, who seems to try not to let her lips twitch upward says, "Oh Clary, I think we will get along just fine. I will let the torture of standing in front of the class end. There's one empty desk in the back, why don't you head back there and we'll all get started."

Thank you, I was getting tired of the staring.

I nod my head as I take a step forward when the door flings open. Again, everyone turns to see who the intruder is. Only this time, it seems to be an angel. A boy with perfectly tanned skin, a golden halo of hair, and even from the distance, I could tell he has eyes that look like pure gold. He is perfect. But after a moment of gaping, a conversation with Simon pops into my head from when I asked him to tell me about the students at Alicante High. He gave me a firm warning about a boy who is the biggest player in the school. A boy who looks good, and knows it. A boy with such arrogance and confidence that Simon hates even the discussion of him. A boy named-

"Jace Lightwood," Madame Dorthea says in a less than enthusiastic tone.

Scratch that. Not an angel. It's the devil.

I think for a second the boy looks flustered, but just as quickly as it had appeared, it disappears and a smirk replaces it. I don't think anyone notices since all the girls in the class seem to be drooling and the guys look at him with envy. I just roll my eyes.

"Sorry I'm late Madame D. I was a little- busy this morning." My nose scrunches with distaste at the innuendo.

Madame Dorthea rolls her eyes at him, apparently this is normal banter, because the only thing she says is, "I'm sorry Clary, but it looks like you will be sharing that desk with Jace. Good luck my dear."

I smile at her and walk to the desk in the far right corner, right next to the window. Someone mumbles about trading seats with me, but I don't get a good look at who it is. Before I can even think of grabbing that seat closest to the window, the devil/angel slides into it right in front of me.

"Hope you don't mind," he says as he gives me what I think is supposed to be a charming smile, "but I like the window seat." Ugh, I like to just stare out the window and let my thoughts wander. Now I've got a glorified jerk in the way.

Instead of saying something that will probably only egg him on, even though I want to, I bite my toungue and just sit down in the other seat and pull out my sketch pad. Madame Dorthea starts talking, but I just zone her out. Jace, on the other hand, does not seem to want to be zoned out.

"Okay, glad we're at an understanding," he comments with the slightest bit of confusion as he leans over to my side of the table. "So what's your name?"

"Clary."

"Well Clary, it's your lucky day. I'm Jace." I look at him for the briefest of moments, and now all I see is a boy who thinks he owns the world. My initial wave of adoration has passed. My only response is "I know."

But Jace doesn't seem satisfied with that. "So you've heard of me."

Again, my only response is "yep." I continue to draw on the fresh page of my sketchbook, careful to make sure he doesn't see what I'm drawing.

He continues, "Wow, I didn't think my reputation traveled that quickly. I mean, I'm sure you've only heard good things? My charming smile? My never ending humor? Let's not even start on my looks…," he drags on.

I laugh with a snort, "Oh, and he's modest," I comment sarcastically, "how refreshing." He has a smug look on his face.

Okay Clary, just ignore him. I guess he expected me to say something else, but I don't. Or he expects me to be drooling all over him like the other girls, or giggling while twirling my hair. Ugh.

He's still staring at me, brows pushed together in confusion. He tries to lean over further and asks, "What are you drawing?" I really don't want to talk to him. I want nothing to do with him, so I just give him another one worded response. "Nothing."

"Is it a detailed portrait of yours truly?" He asks confidently.

My response is "nope," even though I have a few other choice things I want to say.

He seems to be getting a little annoyed, and instead of saying anything else, chooses to ignore me until the bell rings. I assume he will head out of class as soon as the bell rings, but he doesn't. He waits until I put my sketchbook and other things away. By the time I am ready to leave, the only students left are me and him. I had ignored him while I was packing, but now he is blocking the doorway.

I sigh, saying, "Can I help you with something?"

He smirks at me. "Actually, I think the question is how I can help you." I just roll my eyes at him with disgust. Yep, he's a player. A manwhore. Who would have guessed…

"I'm not interested." I force a smile.

Again he smirks. "I meant that in a completely innocent way. You're new. I've gone to school here my whole life. Where's your next class?"

It's biology. And I honestly have no clue where to even find the science department. The school is huge. "I can find it on my own. Or I can ask someone else."

He puts his hand to his heart faking hurt. "Ouch Clary, that hurt deep." That earns him another eye roll. "Seriously though, everyone else is pretty much already in class, quit being stubborn."

I huff, but tell him anyways. "Bio with Carstairs."

He smiles at that. "Perfect, I have Bio with Blackthorn. They're right across from each other." Great. I will have to beeline it out of that class before he catches sight of me. He leads me down a maze of hallways. He tries talking to me, but I just stick with one word answers, praying he'll take a hint. There are a few students left in the hallways, some staring at us as we walk by, or should I say as Jace walks by, but he's right, most are already in the classrooms. As we turn another corner, somebody yells "Hey Wayland!"

I don't turn around, but Jace stops. Why?

The smirk is gone from his face, and a slight frown stands in its place. He turns around looking at whoever called his name, a boy with black hair and black eyes, looking at both of us with an almost predatory smile. Then, he turns back to me. "You go ahead. It's right down the hall on the left."

I furrow my eyebrows at him. "Um, thanks? I thought your last name was Lightwood."

His frown deepens more with my words and he answers me in a monotone voice before heading towards that guy.

"It is."

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