I'll probably update this on the weekends, because between work, swimming, school and sleep I've only gotten about 2 minutes to write this whole week. It'll probably be this way the whole summer, too. I'm sorry this chapter is so short, and literally nothing happens in it, but next chapter the ball should really start to roll.

Also, I might be looking for a beta? If you're interested in that, please contact me!

The math class passes fairly quickly. My mom had already taught me all this a few months ago. Right after the bell rings signaling the end of 1st period, and I'm packing my journal in my bag, I feel a presence hovering over my shoulder. I sigh and turn to look in the face of the freckled redhead called Clary. She asks if I understand the homework assignment. I tell her I do. She just nods and, giving a small wave and a shy smile, she exits the classroom.

If everyone here is like Clary, maybe this whole school thing won't be nearly as bad as I remember it being.

I sigh, and pull out my schedule to see the room number for my next class.

The rest of the day passes by pretty slowly, and uneventful. The only time I start freaking is during passing periods and during lunch. None of the teachers made me stand in the front of their classroom and take the other student's eyeball assault like I had imagined they would. The classes themselves were really easy, and it made me laugh to think that even though I'm afraid of being a part of society, at least I'm smart enough that hopefully I won't ever have to be.

Clary has the same lunch as me, and when I see her standing in the lunch line talking and laughing with a group of friends, it brings me up short. I try not to look at her, try and find a place for me to sit alone and eat, but every place seems taken, although there are several tables full of girls trying to scoot their butts together to make more room. They might want me to sit with them, why I have no clue. Since Clary's the only person who's made an effort at being nice to me all day, I make my way over to where she's standing with her friends. I stand just outside of their circle, not sure where to look or how to get her attention. Turns out I don't have to wait long. One of Clary's friends, a tall girl with flowing black hair, spots me from over Clary's shoulder, and she raises her two perfect eyebrows. Clary stops talking and turns to see what the tall girl is looking at.

Her eyes meet mine, and she lets out a little "Oh!" and smiles. "Hi, Jace."

"Hello,"

She looks at her friends, a lanky, geeky boy with glasses and the tall girl with black hair. "Uh, do you want to sit with us?" She turns back to me, and I breathe out.

"Yes..." Shifting uncomfortably, I move up to stand beside her, the sleeves of my sweater curling around my fingers. I yank my arms away from my body, pushing the sleeves back up my arms.

Clary smiles at me again, with a little glint flying through her eyes.

Her friends are alright, I suppose, considering I don't really have anyone to compare them to. The dark-haired girl introduces herself as Isabelle, and she keeps shooting Clary glances and raising her eyebrows. The geeky kid is Simon, and he acts like a dork. They're all alright.

Now, on my way home from school, I think about the day. It wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. In fact if this is what the rest of the year is like, I could probably deal with it, no problem.

Well, maybe there'll be a little bit of problem.

I shiver and pull my sweater over my hands, curling in on myself. The December weather is biting, and I can't wait to get home and curl up with my mom to watch reruns of our favorite Doctor Who episodes and eat chili. At the thought of my mom I smile. She's the best person in my life, and the only person who knows even remotely what it feels like to have lost Dad. She's the only family I have left. And my only friend. My counselors try to tell me that they're my friends, and that the other people in the various support groups I attend occasionally are my friends, but it really doesn't feel like it. From the books I've read, a friend is someone who's there for you and who you can tell anything. The only person who fits that description is Mom.

I turn into my neighborhood and walk along the cracked and crumbled sidewalk until I come up to my house. There are overgrown bushes outside and untamed weeds in the lawn, and that might turn some people off, but to me it seems homey.

Our house is a squat two-story number, with sagging wood walls and steep creaky stairs leading up to the second floor, which is more of an attic than a level. Once I have the door unlocked I walk inside, but immediately I stop and look around. There's no sign of Mom anywhere. I sigh and flick my gaze to the clock on the mantle above the scrubby fireplace. It's only five-thirty. And it's a Monday, so she'll probably have to stay at the ER until twelve tonight. She works her ass off.

I make my way to the small kitchen off the living room. I rummage around in the fridge for a moment until I come up with two slices of cold cheese pizza. Not bothering to warm them up, I make my way to my room, which is also branching off from the living area. Flipping on my television, I flop down on my bed and turn on Netflix, intent on watching Doctor Who until I fall asleep.

I do end up nodding off eventually, and I wake up to the sound of the front door closing and the sound of quiet footsteps making their way to the kitchen across from my room. I blink the sleep out of my eyes and glance at my T.V; the "Are you still watching?" message from Netflix fills up the screen. Rubbing my eyes, I pad across my room and swtich off the T.V. I make my way to the kitchen, where my mom is leaning against the counter, blinking blearily. When she catches sight of me, her shoulders loose some of their slump and she smiles weakly.

"Jace," she says, and I come up to embrace her. She smells like hospital. "how was school? Was it alright?"

I sigh, "It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."

"That's good."

We sit in silence, her looking through the refrigerator for food and me watching the way she moves. It's tired, jerky, as if she isn't sure she wants to be in her body anymore.

"I'm going to bed, Mom." I walk up and embrace her once more, "I love you."

She leans her head back and kisses my cheek, "I love you too, Jace."

I leave her bathed in the light emitting from the fridge and make my way back to my bedroom. I light some incense before shucking out of my jeans and sweater and pulling on something more suitable for sleeping. Once settled, all I do is listen. Mom isn't making any noises, so all there is to hear is the silence and the occasional rumble of a car. My eyes stray to the faint orange glow of the incense stick burning on the shelf across my room. The light is the only thing I can see, and if it had been daylight I wouldn't have been able to pick it out. The slow inconsistency of the ember soothes me, and and I watch it as it moves down the stick, slowly eating away at the wood, until finally it reaches the end of the rod, flickers and then goes out.