Clary's POV

The warmth from the morning shower clouded the mirror in the bathroom; I rubbed away the condensation and gazed at the reflection.

In spite of my indifference to appearances before I had moved, I decided that since I was leaving all of my friends, I might as well start a new life. Have a clean slate. I wanted to throw away the life of living in the shadows unnoticed, or being taunted or picked on. My usual frizzy, wild red curls were tamed into a gentle cascade of waves. Due to my inexperience, I had used minimal amounts of makeup. Startlingly bright green eyes were set upon my pale skin with light freckles across the bridge of my nose.

No matter what I did, I still was the slightly less than average pretty.

I wolfed down my breakfast and dashed down my way to school; all while Jocelyn, my mother, was in bed. It wasn't like she was a motherly figure to me, anyway, so what was the point of calling her my "mother" or "mommy" or "mom"? Jocelyn had snuck up this whole moving thing out of nowhere, leaving me to only comply with no other choice.

There were so many people.

Everywhere.

They crowded against me like a stampede of buffalo. But I, being the nimble, agile, petite girl I was, weaved my way through the crowd successfully to my locker.

I began to start shoving the contents of my backpack into it until—

"What are you doing in my locker?" a melodic voice drawled. How irritating. I spun around, annoyed, to find myself face-to-face with the most beautiful person I had ever met.

Literally.

He had tousled blonde hair and a gorgeous smirk on his angular face. He was tall, yet muscular. And he had golden eyes that had so much depth. They reminded my subtly of a lion's. He was flocked by a bunch of other hot guys (though not as much as he was) and a bunch of giggly, most likely dumb, girls.

It occurred to me that I was gaping at him.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'll give you a while to adjust to my attractiveness," he grinned arrogantly.

Wait—what? This was the guy bugging me about my locker. All of my previous irritation settled back.

"Excuse me, but last time I checked, this says Locker 421. I'm sorry, but can you read?" I retorted with the same tone, waving the white sheet with my locker number in his face.

He took the slip lazily and slid an identical paper out of his pocket, and held them side by side, still with a carefree smirk on his face. Then his jaw dropped.

"We have a shared locker?" he said indignantly. Well, he was just so verykind, wasn't he.

"I suppose so, if you happen to have locker 421," I stated simply. Then, trying my best to smother my exhilaration to having to share a locker with this person, I turned around nonchalantly and continued to organize my things in the locker.

"Whatever," the person said, with the equal amount of enthusiasm in his voice, "but I have the top half."

Well. That made sense, seeing as I had just finished putting the majority of my things onto the upper portion of the locker.

"Sorry, but it's currently occupied."

A particularly dumb-looking, curvaceous blonde from the gang stepped forward, and snarled, "Give him the space, you bi—"

"No thanks," I interrupted my, spinning around. This was truly annoying. And I still had to find my way around the campus.

"Kaelie, leave it," he said firmly. Kaelie shot me a glare, and sloppily pecked him on the cheek.

"Bye, Jacey-poo," she said, words dripping with honey.

I had to stifle a hysterical burst of laughter. I mean, seriously, Jacey-poo? Along with Kaelie, most of the crowd seemed to have been reminded that they needed to get their own lockers.

"Are you sure you don't want the lower half? Since you are so much shorter."

My eyes narrowed. "Thanks for the concern, but I think I'll be able to handle it…" I stopped myself. It did make a bit of sense. "Alright, you can have it. However, you need to move my stuff."

"Sure thing, babe." He sent me a dazzling smile with a wink, and it took all of my effort not to collapse on the floor. I blushed furiously, but (thank god) it left as soon as he started to guffaw heartily, doubling over. I was now extremely ticked off.

Once he was finished, I sniffed and said stiffly, "Thanks."

He mock-frowned, "Ooh, why the sudden change of heart, redhead?"

"Clary. Nothing besides Clary," I seethed.

"Alright, then. The name's Jace." He grinned sexily and stuck out a hand. I ignored it completely, shoved the locker door closed, and walked away.

Author's Notes: I've been so inspired by all of the Mortal Instruments stories on FanFiction, and I've decided to attempt at a long story.

I'm SO furious at the casting for Jace Wayland for the movie! Alex Pettyfer is MUCH more suitable than Jamie Campbell Bower. UGH!

Anyway, REVIEW please!