DISCLAIMER TIME

The Mortal Instruments does not belong to Madi or me, no matter what you think. We're not that amazing. Yet. It's the property of Cassandra Clare.

Glad that's over!

Now, guess who's back? CLAIRE ICANTHYA. ME. And in this book, you can expect from me…

*BETTER WRITING

*A MORE DEVELOPED CHARACTER

*SUPREME BADASSERY

*ME BEING AWESOME IN GENERAL

Now sit back, relax, and enjoy the show.

~ THEMESONGS ~

Pas De Cheval ~ Panic! at the Disco

Comes and Goes (In Waves) ~ Greg Laswell

.C.I.W.

1. Productive

I could be doing something productive. Like running, or doing homework, or hanging out with friends. It was a pretty day out.

But nope. I was sitting on my bed and tossing a stress ball at the ceiling repeatedly.

The stress ball was left over from when I actually had too much to do, instead of absolutely nothing. An AP Test and a play with nine hours of rehearsals a night can do crazy things to a person. But now everything was back to normal.

God, I was bored.

You know, back when I had no time to be an actual person, I thought I would revel in boredom when everything was over. That I would sit down and lean back and breathe in, completely relaxed. No flashcards to memorize backstage. No performing twice a day. No reading text books while blow drying my hair at midnight. But now that everything actually was over, I realize that I was very much mistaken. I couldn't deal with not doing anything. I like to believe that I have an adventurous soul, and this was anything but adventurous.

Maybe I needed a job.

Nah. Who am I kidding, I would hate that.

A hobby?

I have plenty of hobbies already, just not ones that I feel like doing.

Let's face it, I had hit rock bottom. I was lethargic, languid, lazy, lack luster, you name it. I had mindlessly watched every single existing episode of Doctor Who, Sherlock, Community, and even started on Supernatural. The only thing intact was my fashion sense and a tiny shred of dignity.

"Uh, have you seen your brother?"

I looked up towards the speaker. He was tall, even taller than my big brother, with dark brown hair and stubble on a pale face. Nicely dressed.

"I think he's in the basement." I replied, though I really had no idea at all. I'd stopped paying attention to my brother after he got home from college about a month ago.

"Thanks." He said, and departed down the narrow back hallway.

Good looking, I thought, resuming my ball tossing, vaguely Scottish sounding.

My ceiling was white. It was white and boring. But there was that blue swirly spot over to the left…

Wait. That shouldn't be there. What?

Think, blue and swirly, blue and swirly…

Then I remembered. I'd only ever seen something like this once before, and thought I was dreaming afterward. I'd been sucked through and passed out, awakening to a different world. A world written by James Patterson, actually. My internet friend, Madi, had been there as well. She said it was a dream, though.

And, let me tell you, this does not look dream-like.

I was gonna kill her.

Nonetheless, I kind of leapt off of my bed and into the portal. It was that or the stress ball, so really, what choice did I have?

This time, I didn't pass out. The blue gave way to concrete fast approaching, my arms jerked out and jammed against the sidewalk, breaking my fall. Getting to my feet and dusting my hands, I surveyed my surroundings. I saw tall buildings, people brushing past me, lots of taxis.

I was in a city, evidently. No extra clothes, no money, no way of contacting anyone…

This could be interesting.