I'm back and with a brand new chapter, fresh from the mind of a girl who really doesn't want to do her homework, but doesn't want to fail her classes. Do you see my dilemma here? Why can't I live on the Upper East Side and go to Constance St. Billard's so I can focus on the important things, like drinking and boys, instead of worrying about my high school education and college acceptance letter? Sigh. Well, we can't have it all, can we? I wish I was Blair Waldorf, but who doesn't? She's the Queen. Anyways, I sort of kept my promises with quick updates, but the reviews were scarce and unencouraging! Like oh, did you expect this story to suck or something? "Actually good." Uhg. That was sort of offensive, anon guest. If you want another chapter, you'll have to review more!

Spotted: Alec Lightwood hurrying down 5th Ave, ducking into one of his mother's shops. Where's the fire, A? We both know you're not that into fashion, not enough to induce running, anyways.

Alec Lightwood let out a huge exhale as he read the latest blast.

She doesn't know, he reminded himself. No one knew, not even Isabelle.

Alec loved his sister, but Izzy had turned into something he could barely recognize, and her currently power struggle with Clary just proved him right.

Yes, he felt bad that all of Iz's fascist followers were "switching sides", but Clary was showing them kindness, and she sort of deserved it after sleeping with Alec's best friend to get back at Clary.

Alec tugged at a string fraying off the end of his basic black sweater. He would have a fit if he saw it-

"No bother, Alexander. My fashionable eyes have already laid their gaze upon this monstrosity you call an outfit." A deep voice resonated through the stairwell leading up to Lightwood Designs' studio. Alec bit back a grin. He was always one for the dramatics.

Clad in a crisp pinstripe suit and purple shirt, Magnus Bane was easily the most fashionable man in Manhattan. He dressed Isabelle and Mayrse on a daily basis, and Alec and his father for special events.

Robert Lightwood certainly wasn't Magnus' biggest fan, but who could argue when Page Six admired the movie star's outfit choices?

Magnus was also very, very, very gay and very proud of it, which was something Alec admired.

Why couldn't he have the progressive parents that ran a spa resort in Indonesia? Nope, instead he got the outwardly homophobic father who voiced his opinions every opportunity he got, and a mother that simply stayed silent and let her pieces talk for her.

His sister's extreme bitchiness didn't make her a very good person to talk to, and Alec was afraid that Jace wouldn't understand, or worse, tell the group. His secret would be all over Gossip Girl within milliseconds, and he would be shunned from his family and the UES.

No, he just had to push it down and get through one more year of high school. Then he could move away for college and finally be himself.

That was until he met Magnus.

Of course, Alec always knew him as "the guy who forces me into nice suits" but Alec had never really met him.

Imagine his shock when "the suit guy" was actually a very attractive, young Asian man with the most intriguing eyes he had ever seen.

Since their first conversation, Magnus and Alec have had a strange relationship, to put it lightly, never pushing too far past Alec's boundaries, never going out in public together. He was sure Magnus was distraught by it, but still understood, nonetheless.

If only Alec could find the strength to tell the world who he really was, instead of showing them exactly what they wanted to see.

With the Kiss on the Lips party fast approaching, Isabelle needed to get her act together again. This was the biggest social event of the fall season, always hosted by hers truly, and it needed to be perfect.

Especially with her social standing in freefall.

It had been five days before Clary made her debut at Constance, and she was already so loved, it seemed impossible Isabelle could ever reclaim her rightful throne.

Innocent little Clarissa Morgenstern, with her virginal attitude and New Hampshire values. Isabelle and Sebastian had tried their hardest to dig up some blackmail worthy dirt, so Seb could sleep with her and so Iz could run her out of town, but she was squeaky clean.

Oh, please. Everyone had dirt, Isabelle just had to dig a little deeper to get to Clary's.

She could already tell Sebastian was getting soft. One bat of an eyelash from Clary could turn him to her side.

At least she still had Jace. He was adamant in his barely disguised disgust for her. Isabelle had no idea what Clary could have done to make him hate her so much, but she didn't mind. It just helped her cause more.

Isabelle scrolled through the RSVP section of Gossip Girl, confirming that even though she was a Queen exiled, her subjects still appreciated a good party.

Heavy breaths blew out of Jace Herondale's mouth as he pushed through the last mile, half mile, 400 meters. He needed that scholarship; he needed a reason to escape.

His mother would never let him leave Manhattan otherwise.

Jace paused at a tree; pushing his palms against the rough, cool bark as he regained his breath. Running was his only sanity these days, the only time his thoughts didn't drift to red and green.

He glanced up from the slowly browning grass to gaze at the duck infested waters of Central Park and froze. There she was again. His hallucination of Clary.

This time, Fake Clary was wearing a striped black and white shirt, a brown leather jacket and dark jeans. Her blood red curls were messily pulled back into a low ponytail, accentuating her elegant features.

Jace sighed. This was getting out of hand. After his escapades with Izzy, and half the girls at Constance, things just got worse.

After every labored pant, he found himself wishing it were Clary underneath him. Sebastian had once said that a new girl every night was therapeutic, but Jace found himself more and more distraught.

So distraught that Fake Clary had pulled out a loaf of stale bread and began to feed the yellow monstrosities, quaking viciously at her. Fake Clary had the audacity to giggle.

Jace just watched, open-mouthed. Slowly, she turned to him, glimmering emerald eyes meeting his own aureate ones, proving to him it wasn't a hallucination.

Fake Clary's eyes never had the right shade of green.

She simply waved a weak wave, and went back to dotting on the ducks.

Outraged someone so pure and innocent could associate herself with such beasts, Jace swallowed his fear and stormed over and grabbed the bread out of her hands.

"I thought someone raised by someone as sensible as Jocelyn would know better." Jace groaned, holding the half torn loaf above his head, far out of Clary's reach.

She placed her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow. "And I thought someone with your 'impeccable breeding' would know better than to harass the girl he's been avoiding for no reason at all." Clary growled, not meeting his eyes.

Jace could tell he had hurt her. Half of him told him to end it and move on, but the other half begged, pleaded to be the one for Clary. Someone she deserved.

"But… The ducks." Jace shuddered, hoping his simple, barely coherent sentence would be enough.

Clary cracked a small smile. It was simply breathtaking, or maybe it was just from the run. Jace wasn't sure. He had never felt like this before.

"Is poor, wittle Jacey still afraid of the cute wittle duckies?" Clary mocked, poking at his arm good-naturedly. She must've remembered their childhood, when Isabelle and Alec filled his bathtub with rubber ducks. The plastic, beady red eyes were still embedded in his memory.

Jace said nothing, and Clary began to giggle. The ducks were getting impacting, quacking louder, but she didn't seem to mind. She was oblivious to the flesh-rendering demons below her.

Jace tossed the loaf into the pond, a feeling of satisfaction washing over him as he watched the monsters battle for the bread instead of Clary's limbs.

"You're a strange one, Herondale." Clary whispered, turning to leave. Jace caught her wrist.

"Clare, I am so sorry." He said, pouring as much sincerity into his tone as he possibly could. Clary bit her lip, eyes cast downwards.

"I just don't understand. I thought we really had something." Her voice was choked and he noticed the tears threatening to spill over the rims of her eyelashes. It was the most weakness she's allowed to show all week.

"We do, Clary, but I just…" Jace trailed off, not knowing how to express his feelings. They were an entirely new thing to him.

"You just want to keep sleeping with my ex-best friend turned mortal enemy?" Clary scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"No, Clary! That was a one-time thing. She wanted revenge, I wanted a distraction. It won't happen again." He swore, meeting her skeptical gaze.

Moments, minutes, maybe hours passed before she finally responded.

"I don't trust you, but I'm willing to give whatever this is, a shot." Clary allowed a thin smile to cross her lips. Jace slid his hand in hers.

"How about we ditch the party tonight and go on our own date instead?"

"Hotel Alicante still up and running?" Clary asked with a sly grin plastered to her lips. As kids, they would always cause mayhem in the Herondale's hotel. Maybe history was bound to repeat itself.

"Uhg." Clary groaned later in the afternoon, safely inside her room. She had no idea what to wear, how to do her hair, or even what they were going to do tonight. It was five o'clock, and Jace was coming at six.

Her father had his personal shopper drop off a gown for the Kiss on the Lips party, clearly seeing the invitation Jon had brought home the other day and assuming Clary would be going as well. It was a nice, yet misguided gesture, but at least he was trying.

Clary knew she should probably call her mom and Luke, but Jocelyn would be so disappointed that she was already caught up in a level five hurricane of drama.

She picked up the gown, a long, strapless scarlet number with matching ruby and diamond earring, and silver Jimmy Choo heels. It was certainly head turning. Too bad Isabelle would either murder her, or publically humiliate her if Clary were to show up.

Instead, Clary pulled a more casual outfit from her closet. Black beaded dress, tan leather jacket, and motorcycle boots.

She sat at her vanity and began to curl the ends of her already silky hair. There must've been something in the water to allow her wild waves to dry tame every day.

Clary remembered how most of the girls did their makeup here, cakey and smoky, and decided to opt for the simpler look she wore to school everyday.

Taupe liner around the lids, a few coats of mascara, red tinted gloss and she was good to go.

She wondered what Izzy was doing right now. Was she also sitting at her vanity, prepping for an entirely different reason? Or was she planning her next attempt at ruining Clary's life? Her daily tricks never seemed to work, or maybe she was just going easy, for now. Clary sighed. She was excited to have her best friend back, but it seemed that the new Isabelle Lightwood was a total bitch.

She was happy in New Hampshire at boarding school, so why was she so hung up on failed relationships? Why was she even forgiving Jace after sleeping with Izzy and God knows who else within the past five days?

She had only been back in her old lifestyle for a week, and she was already acting like one of them.

A knock sounded on the door to her bedroom.

"Come in!" Clary chirped, trying to sound light in the midst of her depressive rant.

Jon stepped through the doorway, looking sharp in his designer suit. His light blonde hair was slicked back with an abundance of gel, and his emerald eyes caught the light in mysterious ways. Clary was determined to find somewhere else to sleep tonight, because she knew her brother would be bringing home one or two guests for the evening.

"What's with the getup?" Jonathan motioned up and down his sister's body, white eyebrows scrunched in confusion. Clary stood, rolling her eyes.

"I have a date." She grinned, stepping into her boots.

"A what?" Jonathan nearly shrieked in a very unmasculine way. He cleared his throat a few times before saying, "Since when does my little sister go on dates?"

"Since Jace Herondale asks her out on one? We're stopping for sushi and then catching a movie." Clary said breezily, hoping Jon wouldn't make a huge deal out of it. Her prayers were not answered, for a series of profanities and promises of violence escaped her brother's lips. Clary waited, tapping her foot, for him to calm down.

"Why is Jace Herondale of all people taking you out on your first date? He's a pig, Clare. He slept with your best friend on Monday and you know it!" Jon finished his rant, inhaling deeply to make up for all the air he just spewed.

"Who said it's my first date?" Clary said, lifting an eyebrow. She was forever grateful to her old friends for teaching her how to do that.

Jon turned a bright, furious red, running a hand through his gelled hair.

He cursed, yet again.

"Dammit, Clarissa! I really do not want to know about my little sister's… sex life." He spluttered, choking on the last words.

"Good, and I don't want to know about yours, which is why I'm staying out tonight." She said with a wink, picking up her purse and dashing out of the Morgenstern penthouse before Jonathan had time to react.

She slammed into a solid wall of muscle.

"Shortcake, you really need to watch where you're going. Not all of us are going to be so nice about getting body check." A deep, male voice stated with a light-hearted chuckle.

Clary's heart warmed a little.

She looked up, expecting to meet gold, but instead, pitiless black. Her green eyes widened, and she took a step backwards.

The name hissed between her cherry painted lips like an unspeakable sin.

"Sebastian."

Another reason why I wish I lived on the UES; I wouldn't have to cook for myself like I'm about to go do right now. I have finals to cram for and my diet of late has been apples with peanut butter, gluten free frozen foods (I have celiacs. Also, happy Celiac's awareness month) and ice cream. Let's pray that my cross country coach doesn't find out. I'd be dead and unable to update my stories.

xoxo, A