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did not remember much about Clary’s brother, but he knew his name. He did not particularly want to remember more.
    “Oh, right, Jonathan Herondale,” said Jon. “Of course you know him. I’m actually pretty good friends with him myself. Taught him a trick or two that probably helped you all out in the demon realms, am I right?”
    “Do you mean—Jace?” Simon asked dubiously.
    “Yeah, obviously,” said Jon. “He’s probably mentioned me.”
    “Not that I recall . . . ,” said Simon. “But I do have demon amnesia. So there’s that.”
    Jon nodded and shrugged. “Right. Bummer. He’s probably mentioned me and you forgot, on account of the demon amnesia. Not to brag, but we’re pretty close, me and Jace.”
    “I wish I was close to Jace Herondale,” Julie sighed. “He is so gorgeous.”
    “He is foxier than a fox fur in a fox hole on fox hunting day,” Beatriz agreed dreamily.
    “Who’s this?” asked Jon, squinting at George, who was leaning back in his chair and looking rather amused.
    “Speaking of people being foxy, do you mean? I’m George Lovelace,” said George. “I say my surname without shame, because I am secure in my masculinity like that.”
    “Oh, a Lovelace,” said Jon, his brow clearing. “Yeah, you can sit with us.”
    “I’ve got to say, my surname has never actually been a selling point before, though,” George remarked. “Shadowhunters, go figure.”
    “Well, you know,” said Julie. “You’re going to want to hang out with people in your own stream.”
    “Come again?” Simon asked.
    “There are two different streams in the Academy,” Beatriz explained. “The stream for mundanes, where they inform the students more fully about the world and give them badly needed basic training, and the stream for real Shadowhunter kids, where we’re taught from a more advanced curriculum.”
    Julie’s lip curled. “What Beatriz’s saying is, there’s the elite and there’s the dregs.”
    Simon stared at them, with a sinking feeling. “So . . . I’m going to be in the dregs course.”
    “No, Simon, no!” Jon exclaimed, looking shocked. “Of course you won’t be.”
    “But I’m a mundane,” Simon said again.
    “You’re not a regular mundane, Simon,” Julie told him. “You’re an exceptional mundane. That means exceptions are going to be made.”
    “If anyone tried to put you in with the mundanes, I’d have words with them,” Jon continued loftily. “Any friend of Jace Herondale’s is, naturally, a friend of mine.”
    Julie patted Simon’s hand. Simon stared at his hand as if it did not belong to him. He did not want to be put in the stream for losers, but he didn’t feel comfortable about being assured he would not be either.
    But he did think he remembered Isabelle, Jace, and Alec saying some sketchy things about mundanes, now and then. Isabelle, Jace, and Alec weren’t so bad. It was just the way they were brought up: They didn’t mean what it seemed like they meant. Simon was pretty sure.
    Beatriz, who Simon had liked on sight, leaned in across Julie and said: “You’ve more than earned your place.”
    She smiled shyly at him. Simon could not help smiling back.
    “So . . . I’m going to be in the dregs course?” George asked slowly. “I don’t know anything about Shadowhunters and Downworlders and demons.”
    “Oh no,” said Jon. “You’re a Lovelace. You’ll find it will all come very easily to you: It’s in your blood.”
    George bit his lip. “If you say so.”
    “Most students in the Academy will be in the elite course,” Beatriz said hastily. “Our new recruits are mostly like you, George. Shadowhunters are searching all over the world for lost and scattered people with Shadowhunter blood.”
    “So it’s Shadowhunter blood that gets you into the elite stream,” George clarified. “And not knowledge at all.”
    “It’s perfectly fair,” Julie argued. “Look at Simon. Of course he’s in the elite stream. He has proven