Hi! So I want to start out by pointing out the new cover for Paint & Coffee. It was a surprise made for the story by the wonderful Golden Butterfly of Atlantis, who I cannot begin to thank enough. I absolutely adore it and think it fits the story fantastically. So thank you a bazillion and one times! I really can't thank you enough!

Also, thank you so much for those who have stuck around, and to those who have recently followed and favorited. You all are fantastic :D And thank you for the reviews!

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

-Clary-

Turns out general art is the class most seniors take when they have nothing else to put into their schedules, since nobody seems to take any interest in what our assignments are whatsoever. That, or they think it's an easy A.

As opposed to my advanced art class where I can have an intellectual conversation with anybody in the room about an art style, or work of art, or an artist, I can't even mention Picasso in here without someone asking who she is. She? It's a 'he' people.

So, on this lovely Monday morning, I sit in my seat in the desk in the corner of the room by the window, drawing in my sketchbook. I trace some curves across the page where I have started a rough sketch of my mom and Luke how they were this morning before I left. Mom had Luke's glasses propped up on her head as she and Luke came into the kitchen covered in paint after a failed attempt at an art lesson. It seems Luke lacks any sense of artistic ability, but the sight the two of them made was priceless… and a moment I wanted to capture while it was still fresh in my mind.

"Are you working on my nude portrait? Because I can offer my assistance if necessary."

Speaking of people lacking any sense of artistic ability, or any other ability for that matter, other than being extremely annoying.

I turn to glance at Jace, who is still trying to finish our assignment that's due tomorrow. Depth perception is the goal. Jace is lucky that his sort of has a 2D element to it. I finished mine last Thursday.

"Nope," I respond while rolling my eyes.

He tries to look over my shoulder, but again, like the other fifty times he tried that, I hunch my shoulders over so he can't see my sketch.

He huffs, "You know, you may be the most stubborn person I have ever met."

I smile at that, knowing it's probably the truth. Jace Lightwood isn't used to being rejected.

I do feel bad in a sense, because I'm not the type to pass judgment on somebody before I get to know them, but with Jace, it's different. I have heard story after story for the past week about the girls he has hurt and his distant attitude about it all. I don't want any complications this year. I know, I know, listening to the rumor mill is shallow of me, but if it were one or two stories, I'd just ignore it. Listening to tons of stories, plus warnings from his sister, changes things a bit.

And yet, all the stories I hear are about his player reputation.

Who is Jace Lightwood really? Because nobody seems to know anything other than that he gets around. Not even his sister.

Stop it Clary.

Wow, I haven't realized how much attention I've been paying him. I've been listening to story after story, and they're all the same. What am I looking for?

One that proves them all wrong.

"Miss Fray?" I look up to see Madame Dorthea directing her attention towards me from her desk in the front of the room. "Could you come here for a moment, please?"

I scoot my chair out and stand up, closing my sketch book and placing it at the corner on my side of the desk. I walk up to her and she beckons me over to her side of her desk, where her computer screen is lit up.

"What do you think of having your class do a modern interpretation of this piece for the next assignment?" I chuckle to myself, because she can only mean the advanced art class since I'm looking at a piece by none other than Picasso.

"I think that actually would be really cool," I say, "and depending on what the results are, some really awesome pieces for portfolios can pop up." A surge of pride runs through me that she's asking my opinion at all.

The bell rings signaling the end of first period. Ugh, now Bio. But Madame Dorthea is still on her mindset from before the bell rang.

"Yes, yes. My thoughts exactly," she comments to me as she scrolls through some other Picasso pieces on her computer screen, apparently expecting me to examine them as well. She looks up at her class to see that everyone is gone. Well, everybody but me. "You better get going dear, or you will be late."

It's probably too late for that. I try to subtly run back to my desk and stuff my pencil that I had tucked behind my ear into my bag and sprint out the door. I make it to Bio just as the late bell rings.

At lunch, Izzy is rambling on about something a teacher said to her about her outfit earlier that day.

"I just don't see how it's any of her business," she retorts after Jordan comments on how the teacher had a point saying shiny silver earrings that hung past her shoulders and clanged when she moved were a distraction to the class.

Before Jordan can even say another word Izzy seems to be over it and on to a new subject, but it's just background noise to me. I'm already thinking of ideas for this art assignment I'll be getting later today.

"Clary!" I jerk my head up to see five amused smirks facing me. "What?"

"I said," Izzy repeats, "are you going to Pandemonium on Friday?" Pandemonium?

"Um… what exactly is that?" I ask, completely confused. Izzy and Aline just gape at me.

Izzy seems to snap out of it first and says, "You're telling me that you've missed the neon signs around the school and people talking about it for a week!?" I look around the cafeteria real quick to see signs hung everywhere advertising PANDEMONIUM! on them. Huh, I guess so.

"Seriously, what is it?" I direct the question towards Maia, since she's the only girl here not looking at me like an alien.

She laughs and says, "It's the annual 'back to school' dance. We have one every year, only this year they switched it up so that the girls ask the guys to the dance," she nudges Jordan as she finishes.

Oh. "So kind of like a Sadie Hawkins type thing?" I get nods from everyone else at the table. "I take it Maia asked you Jordan?"

"You bet," he grins as he places a kiss on her cheek. "And what about you Izzy? Aline?"

"I asked Meliorn last week," Izzy replies. I have no clue who that is. Aline lets out a dramatic sigh and says she can't go because her family is going to visit her older sister this weekend, and they're leaving right after school on Friday.

I turn to the only other person at the table who hasn't said a thing the whole time we were on the subject. "Are you going Simon?" I ask curiously, because he hasn't mentioned anything about it to me.

He looks like he's blushing as he shakes his head no and reaches to grab his drink.

"Well, do you want to go with me?" He spits out the juice he had just taken a sip of. "I mean," I add while Aline and Izzy grimace at the mess he made, "just as friends. The two amigos…"

He recovers enough to look at me, his face flaming red now, kind of like my hair. "Uh- Um- Yeah- I mean absolutely- I mean-," he stutters as I start to giggle.

He takes a breath and a moment to collect himself before he smiles at me. "Of course Clary, it'll be fun… I've never been, so it'll be a first." I smile back at him. It will be a fun night.

Izzy claps her hands together. "Oh! This is perfect! Now you can come to my house and get ready, oh, I'll give you a makeover and everything." I shoot Maia a panicked look, knowing she will understand my terror. Let's just say Izzy and I really don't have the same style, proven by the fact that she is currently wearing six inch stilettos in school while I have a pair of converse that I drew all over on. I get an understanding smile.

"Easy Iz, one step at a time. I just can't believe this is the first I'm hearing about it," I mutter out. Am I that oblivious?

The bell rings and everyone gets up. "It's because you always have that head of yours stuck in your sketchbook, Clare," Jordan jokes as everyone starts to walk towards the exit.

Wait a minute. I stop dead in my tracks.

My sketch book!

I walk back to the table and throw my bag onto it, whipping the zipper open to find that my sketchbook isn't there.

No. No, no, no, no.

This isn't happening.

Calm down Clary, calm down. I turn to see all of my friends have left.

Think Clary, where is the last place you saw it?

In art. I had left it on my desk when Madame Dorthea had called me up, and now that I think of it, it wasn't on my desk when I ran to grab my stuff real quick.

The only person who was even close to it was… realization hits me.

That bastard.

I'm going to kill him.

I storm out of the exit into the hallway, looking for a flash of blonde hair to catch my eye, and when I see it, I shove my way through the students trying to make it to class on time.

He must see me coming, because he's looking at me with that damn smirk on his face.

"Give it back," I whisper menacingly as I stick my hand out.

His smirk doesn't waver as he says, "Why Clary, what ever do you mean?"

I stare in exasperation at him. "My sketchbook," I sputter out, "you took it during art. Give it back now." I shove my hands into his chest as hard as I can.

My every nerve is on end. I need that book back. Did he look in it?

"Oh…" he snaps his fingers, "you mean this?" He pulls out my sketchbook, and puts it out of my reach as I try to grab it from him.

"Yes," I grit through my teeth, my blood is boiling and I feel anger tears pricking at the backs of my eyes. Don't cry Clary. He's just being stupid.

By now, the halls have emptied as everyone makes it to class. It's just me and him.

I try again to grab it, but Jace twists his arm away and manages to get my book into his other hand, again, out of my reach. "What's in this book that I can't take a peek at, huh? I bet there's at least one picture of me, right?" He smiles at me like it's just a joke, and maybe to him it is. But not to me.

He is teasing. This is his way of talking to me because I won't any other way.

But this is cruel, and he doesn't even see it.

"Please," I beg, "just give it back." I don't beg, ever, but I was desperate to get my sketchbook back before he looked inside.

Damn my height. I could feel my anger reaching a breaking point.

"JACE! Give it back now!" I scream at him as he's about to open to a random page. I push against the arm that is holding me back and knock the book out of his grasp onto the floor, landing face up opened to a random page.

He looks at me with confusion and then we both look down at the sketch facing up at us.

No.

Any sketch but that one. He could have seen any other sketch.

His expression turns to shock as he turns his attention back to me. The hall is silent and I refuse to look at Jace, who is staring at me. I scramble to the ground to close the sketchbook and gather it in my arms.

"Clary I-"

"Don't." I whisper, because that is all I am capable of. Traitor tears try to escape my eyes, but I refuse to let them. He will not see me cry. Nobody ever sees me cry.

He's still looking at me with that same expression, and I want to smack it right off his face.

"Clary, I didn't mean-"

"I said don't!" The strength is back in my voice.

Rage. Pure rage settles in me as I take a step toward him. He takes a step back toward the lockers.

"What! I wouldn't talk to you so you take the one thing that I like to keep private!? I wouldn't gape at your perfection so you had to knock me down a few steps to get the upper hand?"

He pales. "No, that's not-," but I cut him off.

"Am I some stupid challenge to you? See if maybe you can get to second or third base with me? Because EVERYONE knows how Jace Lightwood can get ANY girl he wants in this damn school. Hell, they come crawling to you. But no, I didn't bite, so you needed a way, some way to make me see that I'm just like everyone else. Just like every other girl, and since you can get with every other girl, you can get with me."

He doesn't say a word.

"So then," I continue because the words are flowing freely now, my fiery temper getting the better of me, and I know I'm going too far, but so did he, "why not take her sketchbook? Why not take what she stores her most personal thoughts in? It doesn't say diary on the cover so clearly it's okay to take and make a prank out of, right? Well? Say something you ass."

He opens his mouth, but then closes it again.

"You know what Jace? You can go to hell." I turn around to leave, but Jace grabs my arm to try to turn me around.

I whip my arm away.

"Don't," I seethe. "Do not touch me. Do not speak to me. Do not look at me. Do not even think about me."

I know I've overreacted, but right now, I just don't care. I'm sure I'll feel bad once I calm down.

"Just," my voice breaks, "leave me alone, Jace. Please just leave me alone."

His eyes move from the ground to me.

Another reason to stay away from Jace Lightwood. One more reason not to trust him.

This time when I turn away, he doesn't try to stop me. He just stares as I walk away clutching my sketchbook to my chest for dear life.

One that proves them all wrong.

I don't know why I want one to exist, but now I'm not sure there is.

I hear the late bell ring.

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