Welcome to Shadowhunter Academy by Cassandra Clare, Sarah Rees Brennan

having the urge to—to hurt people? I didn’t want any of that. But—look, I don’t remember much, but I remember enough. I remember I was a person back then, just as much as I am now. Becoming a Shadowhunter won’t change that, if I ever do become a Shadowhunter. I’ve forgotten enough. I will not forget that.”
    He lifted his bag onto his shoulder, and gestured for Catarina to lead the way to his new room. She did, descending down stone steps Simon had figured were to the basement. He had not figured they kept kids in the basement.
    It was dark on the stairs. Simon put a hand to the wall to steady himself, and then snatched it back.
    “Oh, disgusting!”
    “Yes, most of the subterranean surfaces are coated in black slime,” said Catarina, in a matter-of-fact tone. “Watch yourself.”
    “Thank you. Thanks for that warning.”
    “You’re welcome,” said Catarina, a hint of a laugh in her voice. For the first time, it occurred to Simon that Catarina might actually be nice. “You said—if you ever do become a Shadowhunter. Are you thinking about leaving?”
    “Now that I’ve touched the slime, I am,” Simon muttered. “No. I don’t know what I want, except that I don’t want to give up yet.”
    He almost reconsidered when Catarina led him to his room. It was much darker than the last room, though laid out in the same way. The wooden bedposts of the two narrow beds looked decayed, and in the corners of the room the black slime had grown almost viscous, turning into tiny black slime waterfalls.
    “I don’t remember hell all that well,” Simon said. “But I think I recall it was nicer than this.”
    Catarina laughed, then shocked Simon by leaning in and giving him a peck on the cheek. “Good luck, Daylighter,” she told him, laughing at his expression. “And whatever you do, don’t use the bathrooms on this floor. Not on any floor, obviously, but especially on this one!”
    Simon did not ask her to explain, because he was terrified. He sat down on his new bed, and then stood hastily back up at the resulting long creak and cloud of dust. Hey, at least this time he didn’t have a roommate—he was king of this claustrophobic, slimy domain. He set his mind to unpacking. The wardrobe in this room was actually clean and empty, which was a definite improvement. Simon might go live in the wardrobe with his funny T-shirts.
    He was long finished unpacking by the time George sauntered in, dragging his suitcase behind him and bearing his broken racket on his shoulder like a sword. “Hey, man.”
    “Hey,” Simon said cautiously. “Er, what—what are you doing here?”
    George dumped his suitcase and his racket on the slimy floor, and threw himself down on the bed. He stretched luxuriously, ignoring the ominous creak of the bed beneath him.
    “The thing is, the advanced course is actually pretty hard,” George said, as Simon started to smile. “And you may have heard: Lovelaces are quitters.”
    *    *    *
    Simon was even more relieved to have George the next day, so they could sit together rather than at one of the tables of thirteen-year-old mundanes, who were all giving them the side-eye when they were not whispering brokenly about their phones.
    The day brightened further when Beatriz plopped down at their new table as well.
    “I’m not going to drop out of advanced training to follow you around like Curlytop here,” Beatriz announced, “but we can still be friends, right?”
    She pulled George’s hair affectionately.
    “Be careful,” George said in a tired, humble voice. “I did not sleep in our small, slimy room. There is, I believe, a creature living in our walls. I hear it. Scuttling. I have to admit, I may not have made the brightest decision in following Simon. It’s possible I’m not that bright. It’s possible that looks are all I have.”
    “Actually . . . even though I’m not willing to follow you into boring classes and the endless disrespect of my classmates . . . I