AN: this was written for the tmifemslash halloween exchange (2016) as a gift for royeauxhale on tumblr. the title is from attachments by rainbow rowell.
Volunteering to run a pumpkin carving class for kids at the local library may not have been her brightest idea. Clary is covered up to the elbows in pumpkin guts, and there are seeds in her hair. And they're only fifteen minutes in.
"Okay, kids," she says, waiting for the hum of chatter to die down. "Now that you've taken all the seeds out, you can start thinking about what design you want. I recommend that you start by drawing it on a piece of paper."
The door opens, and Clary's ready to sigh in disgust at the latecomer, but in walks the most beautiful girl she's ever seen. Okay, that could be an exaggeration fueled by pumpkin guts and sharpie fumes, but this girl is certainly very pretty. Her hair is artfully windswept, and her cheeks and nose glow pink from the cold. With her is a boy, maybe ten years old, probably a younger brother; she doesn't look old enough to have a kid of her own. In fact, she looks about Clary's age...
Clary walks over to greet them. "Hi!" she says. "I'm Clary, and I'm leading this class."
"I'm so sorry we're late." The girl holds out a hand. "I'm Isabelle, and this is my little brother Max."
Clary shakes her hand, and whatever sparks she feels are probably—definitely—imaginary. She's wearing an apron covered in pumpkin guts; Isabelle is wearing sleek black boots with four-inch heels. In other words, she's way out of Clary's league. "Nice to meet you!" It is. "We just have to find you a pumpkin." The collapsible white table that had held the pumpkins is now empty.
She considers for a moment, then says, "If you don't mind, could you take the demo pumpkin? I'd have to work with you, to keep teaching the class."
"Not at all," Isabelle says, smiling warmly at Clary and following her to the table at the front.
"Max, do you want to make a design?" Clary says, holding out a piece of paper and a sharpie. He eagerly gets to work, and Clary turns back to Isabelle.
She should be making conversation, right? As usual, all of her social skills have disappeared in the wake of a pretty girl. "Um. Do you live around here?"
Isabelle's laugh is like the tinkling of bells, and hasn't even ended before Clary starts to miss it. "No, I came halfway across the city because this is the only kids activity in all of New York." Isabelle is definitely teasing her, but it feels more like what Simon or Maureen would say than anything mean.
"Wait, I've seen you here before," Clary says. "You're always—" She breaks off; someone is tugging on her apron. She looks down to see a little girl.
"Miss, can you help me?"
Clary gives Isabelle an apologetic grin before following the girl to her station. She fixes a squiggly mouth before calling the room's attention once again. "Alright, kids. Let's start carving! I'm gonna need you to let your parents help with this part, okay? Wouldn't want them feeling left out." She earns a couple of laughs from the adults.
Back at the table, Isabelle is working on carving the first triangle eye. "Sorry about that," Clary says.
Isabelle waves her hand; all is forgiven. "Duty calls."
"I was going to say, I always see you studying here when I'm picking up comics."
"Oh, you're who's making all that noise in the comics section?" Isabelle stops carving to smirk at her.
"God, Isabelle, if I'd known you were busying finding the cure for cancer, maybe I would've been a little quieter."
"Izzy," she corrects after a beat, looking Clary in the eye, and Clary tries it out. "Izzy."
Their eyes are still locked; the jagged knife is frozen in Izzy's hand. Clary coughs, and her gaze darts away. "Uh. Max, what do you think?"
Max is impressed, overly enthusiastic in the way that only a ten year old can be. He beams at Izzy, and she mirrors his expression, ruffles his hair. Whatever awkwardness there was is diffused.
"Is everyone done carving?" Clary asks the room at large. There are mumbles of assent, enough to go on to the next stage. "When you're done, come up to the main table to get glue and decorating supplies!"
There is a flutter of activity, people lining up to get the best glue and glitter and feathers, and then the room returns to its normal level. Max has opted to decorate his pumpkin all in black, with feathers and sequins and those little plastic gems. Clary and Izzy hand him things to glue on.
"Max, you're quite the artist!" Clary tells him.
He's too absorbed in his work to answer, so Izzy answers for him. "He loves to draw," she says.
"I could draw you, sometime," Clary blurts. "Um. What I mean is, you have a good face! To draw!"
Izzy laughs, and somehow it feels like she's laughing with Clary instead of at her. "Thanks. And, I'd love that."
"Really?" Isabelle nods sincerely, and Clary appreciates that her artistry is being taken seriously. "Here, let me give you my number." Yeah, she has an ulterior motive, but by the way Izzy smirks when she hands over her phone, Clary's willing to bet that the other girl does, too.
The class comes to an end all too soon. Parents trickle out of the room, scooping up pumpkins and children sticky with glue, pausing at the door to give hurried thank yous and goodbyes as they head out into the cold.
Isabelle and Max are the last to leave. "Are you sure you don't need any help cleaning up?" Izzy asks.
"No, don't worry about it!" Actually, she would love some help cleaning up this giant mess, but that is not on her list of ways to impress girls. It might actually make the list of how not to impress girls. She'll have to verify that one with Simon.
"But, um, call me!" she says. "If you ever want that drawing."
"I will," Izzy says, and Clary believes her. She has her coat on now, and her hand on the door. She turns around one more time. "Happy Halloween!"
"Happy Halloween," Clary calls back.