Read Welcome to Shadowhunter Academy for Free Online

metal vats full of very questionable soup.
    Simon lined up for food, and peered into the greasy depths of the dark liquid. “Are there alligators in there?”
    “I won’t make you any promises,” said Catarina, inspecting her own bowl.
    Simon was exhausted and still starving when he crawled into bed that night. He tried to cheer himself up thinking again about how lately a girl had been on the bed. A girl on his bed for the first time ever, Simon thought, but then memories came like a wisp of cloud over the moon, dimming all certainty. He remembered Clary sleeping in his bed, when they were so little their pajamas had trucks and ponies on them. He remembered kissing Clary, and how she had tasted like fresh lemonade. And he remembered Isabelle, her dark hair flowing over his pillow, her throat bared to him, her toenails scratching his leg, like a sexy vampire movie aside from the bit about the toenails. The other Simon had been not only a hero but a lady-killer. Well, more of a lady-killer than Simon was now.
    Isabelle. Simon’s mouth moved to form the shape of her name, pressing it into his pillow. He’d told himself he wasn’t going to think about her, not until he was really getting somewhere in the Academy. Not until he was on his way to being better, being the person she wanted him to be.
    He turned so he was flat on his back and stared up at the stone ceiling.
    “Are you awake?” George whispered. “Me too. I keep worrying that the possum will come back. Where did it even come from, Simon? Where did it go?”
    *    *    *
    The trials of transforming himself into a Shadowhunter became apparent to Simon the very next day.
    First, because Scarsbury was measuring them for their gear, which was a terrifying experience on its own. Second, because it involved hurtful personal comments about Simon’s physique.
    “You have such narrow shoulders,” Scarsbury said thoughtfully. “Like a lady.”
    “I’m lithe,” Simon informed him, with dignity.
    He looked bitterly over at George, who was lounging on a bench waiting for Simon to finish being measured. George’s gear was sleeveless; Julie had already come over to compliment him on how good the fit was and touch his arms.
    “Tell you what,” said Scarsbury. “I have some gear here meant for a girl—”
    “Fine,” said Simon. “I mean, terrible, but fine! Give it to me.”
    Scarsbury shoved the folded black material into Simon’s arms. “It’s meant for a tall girl,” he said in a voice that was possibly intended to be comforting, and definitely too loud.
    Everyone looked around and stared at them. Simon prevented himself from taking a sarcastic bow, and stomped off to put on his gear.
    After they got gear, they were given weapons. Mundane students could not wear runes or use steles or most Shadowhunter weapons, so they were all given mundane weapons; it was meant to broaden the Shadowhunter kids’ weapons knowledge. Simon feared his own weapons knowledge was as broad as spaghetti.
    Dean Penhallow brought around giant boxes of terrifying knives, which seemed very strange in an academic setting, and asked them to select a dagger that suited them.
    Simon picked a dagger completely at random, then sat at his desk waggling it about.
    Jon nodded to it. “Nice.”
    “Yeah,” Simon said, nodding back and gesturing with it. “That’s what I thought. Nice. Very stabby.”
    He stabbed the dagger into the desk, where it got stuck and Simon had to pry it out of the wood.
    Simon thought being trained could not possibly be as bad as being prepared to be trained, but as it turned out it was much worse.
    *    *    *
    The Academy days were half physical activity. It was like half the day was gym. Stabby, stabby gym.
    When they were learning the basics of swordplay, Simon was paired up with the girl he’d noticed in the dining hall, the one who had cried when Scarsbury was introduced.
    “She’s from the dregs stream, but I understand you’re not