Hi everyone! Ok, so this is my first fan fiction, pretty much my first time writing anything. I've had this idea for a while, and I wanted to write something fun, where Clary has a bit of attitude.

Just a note- the characters are OOC and all human.

It would be great if anyone reading this could review; praise, encouragement, constructive criticism, whatever! Any kind of feedback would be really helpful to me as a writer, so I know how to improve.

Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare is an amazing author, and I definitely do not own the characters or TMI series!

Anyway, on with the story!

Clary Fray was queen of the school. And here at the Institute, where the Order was everything, everyone knew it. They parted around her as she strutted into the school, her co-rulers Izzy, her brother Alec, and Simon and either elbow. The younger students who were effectively nobodies tried to hide, pressed against their lockers and hoping they wouldn't be seen. The wannabe-popular girls glared at them enviously. The jocks called and wolf whistled appreciatively. Clary smiled to herself as she watched Izzy handle them. She always thought that this was Izzy's favourite part of being in the 'it' crew; she strolled casually but purposefully down the hall, her high heeled boots clacking on the polished marble floor, waving at the boys and occasionally holding her fingers to her ear and mouthing call me. Clary plastered her trademark slightly cocky, slightly sexy grin on her face and tossed her fiery hair behind as her shoulder as she continued to march into the Institute. Despite the fact that it was still school, she loved this place.

The shrill noise of the morning bell reverberated down the hallway. Clary turned to Simon and Alec, who were joking around in front of the lockers. "Where are you guys first? We have to have at least a few classes together this year." They shrugged, and handed their timetables to Clary, who examined them and scowled. "Damn, only third and fifth. Maths and US history. Well, see you guys later." She turned back to Izzy, who was busy flirting with a nerd who thought he had a shot with her, standing out the front of her locker. But Clary knew better. Izzy was famous for it. She was a one night, move on kind of girl. She toyed with boys hearts then tore them out and walked all over them in high-heeled boots. Clary grabbed her elbow and towed her down the hallway.

"Whoah, whoah, what's the rush? It's only class!" Izzy protested indigently.

Clary rolled her eyes. "First day of school Izzy, no toying with the boys." Izzy set her red lip-sticked lips into a pout. Clary sighed. "Come on, I thought we had this sorted by the end of last year. You know how important the Order is here. Right now, we are at the top. We want to stay at the top. And, while I'll admit your one-night-stand thing with my hard-to-get-ness makes us a pretty dynamic pair, flirting with the dregs of this place is so going to drag us down."

Seeing that Izzy was about to interject, Clary put her hand over her friend's mouth and continued. "Remember our rule, Izzy? I know you do. No-one above thirty. Forty, for a stretch. Anyone above those numbers in the Order, is effectively nobody. I don't care if they're cute. We rule here, and everyone had better know it."

And with that, Clary turned on her heel and headed down the nearly deserted hallway. But not before Izzy got her say. "You know what they say, Clary." She called, tossing her waist length midnight-black hair over her shoulder, her blue eyes glinting mischievously. "Every ruler has to fall."

Clary sauntered into the classroom, late as usual. It wouldn't do well for her image to be on time like a teacher's pet. Her first class was chemistry, and while she would never let anyone know it, she actually didn't mind the class. She was far from being a genius like Simon, but at least she did okay. Her teacher, Mr Starkweather, wasn't too bad, either. He was a middle aged man, and reminded Clary slightly of a raven, with his beak like nose and tufty hair. He wasn't as cranky as some of the other teachers, but the thing Clary liked best about him was the fact that he seemed to accept she was always going to be late to class.

"Ahh, Miss Fray, nice of you to join us."

Clary gave an angelic smile to her teacher as she made her way to her seat at the back of the class. "It's nice to be here sir." She scored a few sniggers from her classmates, which was what she was hoping for, before she dropped her fluoro green schoolbag onto the floor under her desk and reclined casually in her chair. Mr Starkweather was going on with the usual it's-the-first-day-of-school-now-you-have-responsibilities-blah-blah-blah speech that they all heard at least ten times on the first day back from summer break, every single year. Clary couldn't help her mind wandering, back to her conversation with Izzy. She mentally groaned. At this school, the Idris Institute for Excellence, the Order was everything. The Order was basically where everyone sat in the popularity rankings. Everyone who was anyone had a number, and Clary was definitely number one. She had been a contender for the top ever since she arrived at the school in her sophomore year, and had slowly climbed until she owned the place. It hadn't been easy, though. She had honed her attitude and sharp tongue that she inherited from her mother until she could take anyone down. Now, what she said went.

Clary often wondered if her sharp attitude had anything to do with what went on at home. Or at least, what used to happen. Even there, in the warm classroom, Clary shuddered as a swarm of horrific memories threatened to engulf her. She still remembered every detail, even from all those years ago…

A six year old Clary hopped eagerly through the front door to her apartment, wiping her muddy shoes before she entered. Today had been a good day, it was the first day back at school and Clary had made a new best friend. She could barely contain her excitement as she skipped through her mum's art room and into the living room, her backpack bouncing against her shoulder blades. Her mum was always happy when she had good news from school, and Clary couldn't wait to tell her about today. "Hey mum, guess what? Guess what, guess what, guess what?" Clary sung as she walked into the kitchen. "I made a new-" But she cut off as soon as she saw what was in front of her. The first thing she noticed was her mother, lying horribly still on the white tiled floor. Her vibrant red hair was fanned out around her head like a halo, contrasting against her ivory pale skin. The second thing Clary noticed was the man standing over her. He towered over the both of them, and in Clary's young eyes, was downright terrifying. Pale, almost white hair fell into his eyes, which were black as midnight. He jumped as he noticed the small red head standing in the doorway. Clary could feel a flush creeping up her pale, freckled cheeks, a flush of anger at this man who was standing over what she thought was the dead form of her mother. "Who are you? What… what did you do to my mummy?" Tears tracked down her face, and she angrily dashed them away with a clenched fist. She wouldn't cry in front of this man. The man turned to face her. His eyes raked up and down her body, scrutinising every aspect of her, from her mass of red curls to the paint splattered shirt she was wearing, her favourite one with the butterflies on it, to her pale, skinny legs and her old green sketchers. "You must be Clarissa." He intoned. "I am Valentine. Your father."

The shrill ring of the bell signalled the end of first period, breaking Clary out of her reverie. She noticed suddenly that she was trembling, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. It's okay, she tried to reassure herself, it's over. Mum has Luke now. He's gone, long gone. She stood from her seat, threw her bag over her shoulder and walked out of the classroom, bringing up her strong mental walls again, the walls that no one could break through.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. The only thing exciting that happened was when Clary passed the noticeboard on the way to lunch, and saw an announcement for swim team try outs tacked over the other posters. Clary couldn't wait; swimming was her favourite thing on earth, even in front of art. She signed her name immediately and made a mental note to show up at the school's pool the next day after school.

But, swimming announcements aside, the rest of the day was mundane as far as days went. Clary was relieved when she stepped off her bus and walked up street to the apartment she lived in with her mother and step-dad, Luke. She was still pretty shaken up from that morning. It had been forever since she'd lost control like that; let her walls come down long enough for the memories to claim her.

The building they lived in was old, or antique, as Clary's mother said. The walls were a weather-washed white, paint peeling off and mould growing in the sections that didn't get much sun. A cobbled path led through a garden full of weeds and rosebushes and up to a set of brick steps and an oaken front door. Inside was always dim, there weren't many windows and the skylight was covered in leaves and grime. Clary held her breath like usual as she passed the door on the first landing. It belonged to a batty old woman who called herself Madam Dorothea. She was supposed to be a witch or something, but whenever Clary had been into her apartment all she had seen were a few glass balls, tea cups and an old record player that was always playing some kind of Egyptian music. And the whole place smelled weird, like flowers and mothballs.

Clary scaled the old staircase and arrived at the floor her apartment was on. She retrieved the spare key from the potted plant that sat in front of the door, and let herself in. Grabbing a muesli bar from the kitchen, she headed straight for her room and shut the door. The bang echoed through the empty apartment, seeming to threaten Clary, let her know she was alone. Clary flopped onto her bed and rubbed the heels of her hand against her eyelids. She was exhausted, mentally and physically. Before she knew it, the memories suffocated her again.

Clary was lying face down behind the couch in her pyjamas, trying to quieten her frenzied breathing. It was late, she knew she should be asleep, but a noise from the living room had woken her up. It wasn't the first time it happened, but tonight Clary had quietly snuck out of bed to investigate. Now, crouching behind the couch, she wished she hadn't.

From over the other side of the room, she could hear sobbing. She knew it was her mother, and the sound terrified her. Mothers weren't supposed to cry, right? They were supposed to be brave, handle anything, be strong and hold up the world. Even against really horrible fathers. Clary could hear Valentine pacing up and down the living room floor, his footsteps beating a rhythm, like a heartbeat. Like Clary's heartbeat, which was racing a million metres a second. "You're disgusting." He snarled. Clary's mother's sobbing grew more intense, terrified moans escaping her mouth. "No, please don't Valentine, no, no, PLEASE!" Clary covered her ears as her mother's voice grew to a shrill, horrified scream. But she still heard the solid thud as Valentine's foot connected with her mother's side. And she still heard her mother's scream, a heart-piercing cry of pain and misery. Clary was drowning in what she heard and in tears, tears that wouldn't stop even when she knew that they would give her away, because she was suffocating and she couldn't find the surface.

A loud beeping noise woke Clary from her nightmare. Puzzled, she sat up in bed and yawned. Had she fallen asleep? Clary glanced at the clock beside her bedside table, and jumped out of bed like a firecracker had been let off underneath her. Izzy would be by to pick her up for school in fifteen minutes, and she wasn't even properly awake yet. Running to her chest of drawers, Clary quickly grabbed an appropriate 'I'm popular' set of clothes- tiny denim shorts held up with a leopard print belt and a sheer white top over a black singlet. She pulled on her favourite pair of knee-high black boots and hid her tired eyes behind a pair of sunnies. With ten minutes to go, Clary judged she had just enough time to straighten the fiery jungle that was her hair and scoop it up into a messy bun held in place with pins. A loud honk sounded from outside. Clary rushed to the small window overlooking the road out the front of the apartment block and saw Izzy sitting in her yellow VW. "I'm coming!" She called, and, grabbing an apple on her way out, scooped up her school bag and bolted out of the apartment.

Izzy had to stop for petrol so by the time they pulled up in the school car park the bell had already rung and people were already on their way to class. They hadn't talked about much in the car, just some new cute guy in Izzy's algebra class called Magnus. Clary hadn't really been listening all too attentively, she was more focussed on how to bring up the topic she'd been wanting to have a serious talk to Izzy about since, well, since Izzy had been Izzy. As they slammed the car doors and speed-walked up the path to the school's front gates, Clary decided she couldn't put it off any longer.

"Hey, Izzy, about what we were talking about before…"

Izzy's eyes lit up the way they always did when there was as much as a mention of a boy in a conversation. "You mean Magnus? I totally think-"

"No, no," Clary cut her off, rolling her green eyes skyward. "Not that he doesn't sound cool or anything. It's just… I mean yesterday, about, you know, the Order?"

Izzy let out an exasperated laugh and held a hand to her brow, scout-style. "It's okay," she joked. "I, Isabelle Lightwood, solemnly swear not to go near any nobodies, no matter how hot they might be…"

Clary, slightly impatiently, cut her off again. "That's hardly necessary. No, what I mean is… I don't know how to put this, but really I need to, well stay up there, at the top that is…"

The rest of Clary's sentence was cut off by the warning bell, and Izzy smiled and made her way down the other hallway. "How about you tell me at break, I have a really nasty chem teacher. I'd really rather not push my luck second day of term." Izzy said, and entered her classroom.

Sighing to herself, Clary continued walking through the school to her chemistry class. She'd been about to tell Izzy about her real reason she needed to be top of the Order here, the real reason she had her kilometre-thick mental walls that tightly enclosed the vulnerable part of her mind. Why she might break if that was torn away from her. As she pushed open the heavy door to her classroom, Clary shook her head vigorously to clear it and criticised her weakness. The reason she had those mental walls, she reminded herself, was to keep people out. And she was comfortable with it staying that way. Taking only a second to compose herself, Clary stepped into the classroom. Her face was a mask again, steadily set into the look that the school knew Clary Fray for- the popular, hard to get queen of the school who everyone both loved and hated. Loved, because she was their ruler. Hated, because there were many who wanted her position.

Mr Starkweather was in the middle of a lecture and didn't notice Clary sneaking in the classroom to her seat at the back. Clary smiled wryly. That was always her seat. Even though the classroom had rows of two-seater desks, everyone knew to leave this desk for Clary, even if all the other desks were occupied. She slid casually into her chair and extracted her books from her bag. She attempted to focus at least slightly on what Mr Starkweather was saying about electron structures and reactions, tapping her pen on her cheek thoughtfully. Even though it was only the second day, school was pretty much back to normal. The kids were back in the pattern, the teachers had hatched their 'education' plans, and the Order was settled. But Clary had no idea how much that was all about to change when a golden haired boy pushed open the classroom and flashed an insouciant grin at the teacher.

"Sorry I'm late sir. I got lost."

Thanks for reading this far! Please, reviews are like gold!

So anyway, I'm guessing everyone can guess who 'golden haired boy' is? Sparks will fly when they meet in the next chapter. Also, the next chapter will see some intros to some of the other characters I kind of skimmed over here- Simon, Alec, Magnus etc.

OK, until I update again, thanks for reading!

-ApproachingDarkness