Hi! This is my first fanfic so enjoy!

Disclaimer: ALL characters belong to Cassandra Clare! (Characters made from character contests discluded)

For the sake of not spoiling things to anyone, I'm keeping the last names as "Fray" and "Wayland". Please, if you read the more recent books in the series, you'll hopefully understand why I didn't use what I could've used.

Trying to be cryptic here, work with me.

If you see any mistakes with last names, I sincerely apologize. I will fix them when I get to rewriting the chapters.

Edit: My story was originally written back in 2014; my writing style has changed and improved so much. Because of this, my story in currently undergoing tons of changes, edits, and re-writes. Everything after this chapter has been written/rewritten over a year ago, so the quality obviously won't be the same. Please be patient for the updated chapters, as I've got multiple things on my to-do list, constantly. If I find time, I certainly will do my best to tidy up these chapters. Also, this chapter was written while I was rushed, so it still isn't up to my standards. I will work through the re editing of this story when I can, but between work, tutoring, and social life (which doesn't even exist for me during the school year), it'll take me a while to do so.

For now, please enjoy what I've got, and I'll be sure to get to you soon! Any feedback? Questions? I'd love to hear!

I hardly recognized the reflection in the side mirror of my car. Although the surface was smudged and a tiny crack was placed on the top corner, I could still see the image before me.

The girl staring back at me had dark bags under her eyes, and unruly hair; a frizzy mess that wouldn't be tamed down.

Her face was expressionless, maybe a little stressed, but that wasn't what concerned her most.

It was her eyes that took me by surprise.

Her green eyes might as well have been colourless; they were dull, and depressing.

Eyes are the windows to the soul.

Well, if this were the case, then that must mean that I'm a colourless, dull, depressed person.

Sounds about right.

"Hey, Red," Clary heard a rough voice say as she passed by a group of people. They looked smug, as they picked on a ninth grader. Nothing says "coward" like picking on someone years younger than you. Clary thought, but all of those thoughts washed away when they approached her.

"I—I...um, sorry..." She stuttered, not knowing what she was doing. Was there anything that she was supposed to even be sorry about? It didn't matter.

She'd have to say so regardless if she wanted to make it scratch free to her next class.

"Oh, stammering now, are you?" Three of them, two girls, one with blonde hair and the other black, and one brunet guy, cornered me into the lockers behind me. "How cute."

"Leave me alone," Clary voiced a squeak, her voice sounding not much more than a small whimper. The blonde girl reached and twirled a lock of Clary's flame red hair around her finger. Clary tried to wriggle away, but she was backed right into the lockers. The three towered over her, and a looming shadow casted on her face.

No escape. The boy crossed his arms, looking bored.

"Come on, let's go. She's no fun." He drawled, unamused.

"Oh, but her hair is so pretty!" The blonde haired girl said. "How would it look if I just...snip some off? You wouldn't miss it, would you, Red?"

"No, please," Clary shook her head, forcing herself not to cry by biting the inside of her cheeks. She squirmed in the small spaced she was now confined to.

"Poor thing," The black haired girl sounded anything but caring as she said so. She pinched onto a chunk of hair, then cut once.

Snip.

It was almost slow motion for Clary; she could see the lock off hair fall to the ground, then another,

Snip.

And then another,

Snip.

Clary saw the sadistic smiles of the other three.

Almost slow motion when she ran to the bathroom, and held her breath once she met the mirror. Eyes wide, she looked at the blurred image before her, as she felt warm teardrops weigh down to her arms.

Just another day.

She didn't think she could take another one.

The administration office was one of those rooms that seemed overwhelmingly gloomy. There weren't any windows, and all the lights inside seemed to emit a colour almost gray.

"Hello, dear. New?" The woman at one of the tiny, old desks asked, not even looking up from her computer. How welcoming.

"Yes, Clary Fray." I replied, glancing at the clock. A habit, for when I get nervous. It was one of those plastic ones, the kind that all schools had.

"Oh, of course. Here." With her eyes glued to the computer screen, she handed me a slip of paper with one hand, and was typing away on the old, worn out keyboard with another. I took a peek at the paper; a schedule.

I mumbled a thanks to her and took the schedule, trying to find my way to class. How confusing could this school get? I couldn't even find my first period.

And I was going to be la-

Knocked out of my train of thought, I found myself sprawled on the floor. So much for a graceful start to a new school.

"Shoot, I'm sorry," I raised my eyes, only to see a perfectly manicured hand reach out towards me. I took it, and felt myself being pulled up.

"That's, uh...that's okay," I replied, wary of her. People who looked like that never talked to people who looked like me.

"Isabelle's the name. I'm guessing you're new here?" She untied her French braid, letting long locks of raven hair cascade down her back, almost like as if it was in rivulets.

Damn, she was everything I wanted to be. She was gorgeous, and kind, and, as you could tell by her voice, was very charismatic. I was jealous.

"Uh, I- yeah, okay, that would be me. New, I mean," I stumbled on my words. Clearly, I'm not social. At all.

Nonetheless, I needed help, so I asked, sheepishly, "If it's not a problem...could you show me my next class?"

"Sure. Can I take a look at your schedule?" I handed her the small slip of paper, pressing it into her open palm. The curves of her lips raised into a smile, after scanning the list. "Cool! We first period together."

I couldn't help grinning myself. A possible friend?

I liked the sound of a friend.

I think that's what I needed.

As I followed Isabelle down the hall, I noticed that almost every guy in the school was staring at her. One guy nudged his friend upon seeing her, another scanned her from top to bottom, lingering at...what perves.

I shot them disgusted looks, and turned away.

Thankfully, the classroom was just ahead. Room 58.

By no means was room 58 a nice one. It was dusty, and the books looked over two decades old, with cracked and Peking spines. The chalkboard had markings on it that wouldn't wipe off—you could tell by the layers and layers of writing that hadn't fully gone away, and the faded green of the board.

I was, for the second time today, drawn away from my thoughts, as I saw a figure shadowing over the seat I had chosen.

God, she was so fake.

She was pretty enough, but everything about her just screamed "pseudo", with dyed blonde hair (you could see the dark hair roots), the most ridiculous false eyelashes, and lips so thick, they'd make anyone wary. Actually, I think she had actually over lines them, too. Not that this was wrong or anything, but...the way this girl had presented herself, with such an arrogant vibe...

...I instantly hated her.

"Excuse me, Red,"

Ouch. I remember that nickname. I hadn't heard that one in a while, that being said, I switch schools too often anyways.

"That seat you're on? Yeah, that's got my name written on it."

She was quite literal. Sure enough, etched on the side of the plastic chair seat, was a name. It was jagged, very poorly done, so maybe it was scratched on with a pair of scissors; Aline.

I didn't think she'd walk away—and I was right. This girl held her stance, waiting for me to move.

"Actually, Aline,"

I bent over, gripped a mechanical pencil, and crossed the etching of her name out. Right above it, I carved in my initials—C. F.

"It's mine."

Her face was overcome with an array of pink and red splotches. She raised her chin up, as if she was looking down on me. Two can play at that game.

I smirked at her, and stood up from the seat, pushing that plastic chair a foot back. I stuck my chin up the exact same way she had, and held her glance. From my peripheral, I could see other people staring at our war of glares.

Aline must not be very strong of a person.

She didn't last more than ten seconds before she huffed, backed up, and sat on another cheap, plastic chair halfway across the classroom.

Damn, that felt nice.

I didn't notice the yelling when I entered the cafeteria.

I looked down, and walked to the counters where the food was. Slowly, the line began to move, and I could finally smell the aroma of their variety of food.

It'll sound cliche, but the food was inedible.

The mounds of slush that sat on my plate was enough to halt my appetite. The smell—gosh, what was that?

I set the pale, yellow tray down on an abandoned table. Only then did I realize that there was a crowd surrounding the table smack-center of the room.

Now, typically, I wasn't one to follow these crowds, but something about this intrigued me. It peaked my interest, you could say. I was small, and irrefutably short, so pushing my way through the wall of people was easy when I could just slip underneath their arms and elbows.

The cause of all this attention didn't surprise me, not at all.

Aline stood at the centre of this all, of course, but across from her was a male, arms crossed and all. Holy crap. He was as undeniably attractive as I was undeniably, averagely short. His hair matched his eyes, a shade of deep gold, with locks and locks of said gold piled to one side of his head. Messy, but really, really attractive.

"You have got to be kidding me! Do you have any clue what you are doing?!" A shrill scream echoed through the room; a scream so loud that I'm sure there's no place in the entire school in which you could stand and not hear her.

"I'm well aware, Aline," Golden Boy—which is what I had called the blond, because damn—said. He was calm and quiet—props to him—yet his message came out loud and clear. "I'm done with this."

Until now, I had not seen a single face so murderous. Her cheeks were a dangerously red flame, resembling the embers of flickering fires, and her eyes glaring daggers, cold like steel. God, she was terrifying.

"Is this about the new girl? It's about her, isn't it?"

"No, it's not-"

"It is! That-" Aline began to hiss, but before she could go any further, she scanned the now-enlarged-crowd, and her furious eyes met mine. "YOU FREAKING B-"

Aline tore through the masses of people, and lunged for me. I had no clue what went over me. As the stupid, stupid person I was, I only stood my ground, like as if roots had grown from my feet and planted themselves to the floor.

Before I knew it, a palm had embraced my face. Heat erupted as Aline's hand swept across my cheek, strong enough to push my head to the side. It hurt like hell, but it was nothing compared to my embarrassment.

I wanted to make a stronger image of myself than before.

So hell nah, I wasn't going to let her humiliate me like that.

"For someone who tries so hard to be pretty..." I said, drawing out my words, "...Your personality is so damn unattractive. Unappealing. Hideous. Repugnant. Grotesque. Must I go on, or do you finally get it yet?"

And with that, I hadn't ever heard a room with so many people be so silent. I glanced around me and saw that most were looking right at me, some with shocked faced, some who quietly laughed, some that almost seemed impressed. I looked back to Aline, and i was met by an annoyed face. Not mad, not sorry, but annoyed. Like as if nothing I said had registered in her near empty head.

"You don't know what you're talking about." She replied, in a loud, bold voice. She held herself, yet again, with such a confidence that I was sure it wasn't that. It was arrogance. "You're just jealous. You are, aren't you? Just stop attacking me! I didn't do anything much to you."

I couldn't believe these words I was hearing. I was mad. This time, I was really, truly mad. Taking a deep breath, I took a step away from her. I'll be the bigger person, I'll leave. She was impossible to reason with, anyways.

I was just about to step out and into the hallway, until a firm but gentle hand grasped my wrist. I spun around, only to see the Golden Boy's arm outstretched, with a palm against my arm.

"That was real brave of you," he smiled crookedly, which worked for him. He could pull off just about anything, though. "I'm Jace. Wayland, Jace Wayland."

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! More edited chapters to come.

A lot of things through out the rest of the story may be different. The new story's plot line is varied from what it was before.

If you're a reader of my original, let me know what you think of the new version! Actually, if you're a reader at all, I'd really appreciate feedback.

Review, follow, and favourite, please! Thanks everyone!