Hii, guys! So, I was watching Ferris Bueller's Day Off, and the movie inspired me to do a one-shot like this one. So, yeah. Here it is. Thanks to IWriteNaked for beta'ing and providing the story's title. :D You're the best, Ashtray. Also, just in case you ask: I'm not turning this into a full story. It is what it is. Anyway, I hope you like it!

Music:

Welcome to New York - Taylor Swift
Bright - Echosmith

I'm not a very rebellious person.

The only time I've rebelled against someone was in the third grade, when the teacher told me I couldn't go to the bathroom but I ran out of the classroom anyway. I got suspended. Whatever. Anyway, my mom and dad gave me this huge lecture on responsibility and authoritative figures and my role in society as a kid (blah, blah, blah), so I haven't tried to rebel since. Whenever I feel like a spark is rising within me, I doodle aggressively. Or I rant to my friends, because that's what they're for, anyway.

But it's my senior year. The second semester has just begun, and I don't know where I'm going to be in a couple of months. I don't know what I want to do with my life. I want to do art, but I'm terrified that I'm not good enough, that I won't earn enough money. I'm terrified of everything that life is throwing at me.

Which is why my best friend, Jace, convinced me to skip class today.

My perfect attendance record—which I don't care for, really—will be put at risk, but he says that, because it's so immaculate, no one will question my absence. His, however, isn't so immaculate; he and Isabelle have skipped way too much this year.

"It's our last year, though," Jace said. "And I wanna start living."

"You are living."

"Just because I'm alive doesn't mean I'm living, Clary."

Sometimes he gets really deep, and I never really know what he means. I guess it's because he's had a lot of experience with living through different experiences, and my life is a routine. I've gone to St. Xavier's my entire life; I've lived in the same apartment for fourteen years, and I don't remember the three remaining years; the only thing I've ever been good at is art. He and Isabelle are the two things in my life that have changed—they showed up at St. Xavier's in 9th grade, and we just sort of became friends.

I think Isabelle just really wanted someone to play dress up with.

The point is, Jace convinced me to skip. I told him it could only be one day, and he happily agreed. Isabelle and Simon are coming along, too, so this should be fun. Ish. Only I haven't really broken a serious rule in about ten years, so I'm a little rusty.

Jace gives me tips on how to convince my mom that I'm extremely sick without getting her to take me to the doctor. I'll just tell her I have extreme cramps and can't get up or something. I'm not exactly sure. Improvising is quickly becoming my new best friend.

Anyway, I made sure to wake up twenty minutes before my mom's alarm goes off. My dad's out of town on a business trip, so it's just the two of us. I try to strategize. I can go to the kitchen and get some crackers, mix them with water, throw them in the toilet, and pretend like I threw up. Right? Right. I'm gonna do that, and then tell her I also have cramps. Serious enough to maybe persuade her into letting me stay home, but not too serious so that she has to take me to school.

I creep down the stairs and get the crackers. I pour a little bit of water into a container, crush the crackers, and mix until it's the right texture—thick and chunky, but also liquid-y. Ew. I hate thinking about vomit.

I go upstairs and dump that in the toilet, hiding the container in an empty drawer. I barely slept, and the feeling of anxiety and nervousness is coursing intensely through my veins. I feel jittery, like I can't stay still, but I have to make myself.

I go back into my bedroom, choosing to lie down on my bed and close my eyes while taking deep breaths, trying to relax every inch of my body until I'm close to falling asleep again. Just as I'm drifting off, my mom comes in. She turns on my light and gently nudges me. "Clary," she says, "it's time to wake up. You have school today."

I groan, shifting ever-so-slightly so that I'm not facing her. After I move, I make a noise that hopefully makes me sound like I'm dying.

"Come on, Clary. You have to get up."

"Mom," I say, making my voice come out croaky. "I don't feel too good."

"What do you feel?"

"I have crazy cramps, and my stomach hurts, and I threw up earlier."

"What?" She sounds a little more concerned now. "Where?"

"Bathroom."

"Jesus, why didn't you flush it?"

"Too tired."

She places a hand on my forehead. "At least you don't have a fever." I hear the sound of her pacing and turn back around. "Okay," she says. "You can't go to school today. But, honey, I can't take you to the doctor."

"I don't think it's necessary anyway, Mom." I yawn, feeling seriously tired. "I just think this time of the month is hitting especially hard. But I don't think I can do today."

"I know." She kisses my forehead. "You wouldn't stay home if it weren't serious."

"Exactly."

"I'm leaving in about an hour, so just sleep and call me if you need anything, okay?"

"Mhmm." I make myself sound more exhausted than I already am—which, now that I know the plan has worked and my nerves/excitement dies down, is plenty. "Thanks, Mom."

"I'm gonna go, okay? I love you."

"I love you too. Can you turn off the light on your way out?"

"Of course."

Once the room is dark and the door closed, I send a text through our group chat. It's done!

I get a bunch of hooray! and #teamturningclaryfrayintoacriminal messages (because those are a thing in our friend group, apparently). We agree on meeting up at my house at 10am. All of our parents work until 8pm, so we're giving ourselves, like, 9 whole hours to do things. Which should be fun. But it's 6am right now and I'm beyond grateful that I get to sleep.

By the time it's ten o'clock, I'm fully dressed.

I live in the best city in the world, but its weather, like all weather, can be slightly bipolar. It's February, for example, but it's not ultra-cold. The fact that the sun is shining (and melting the snow) really helps. However, I still wear tights under my jeans, my black rain boots, a white wool sweater, and a green coat. I take my gray scarf, too, just in case. I make sure I have my phone and 40 dollars before I head downstairs.

"I don't think I have enough money."

Isabelle, who's now entered my house, rolls her eyes at me. "I have a credit card, Clary."

"But your mom will be able to track it and see that you aren't in school."

"I took the money out yesterday." She reaches into her bag and removes a roll of money. "Three hundred."

"Jesus."

"Do you have your subway card?" she asks me.

"Yeah. Where are Jace and Simon?"

"Getting our coffee."

"I love you for making them do that."

She bats her eyelashes innocently. "How do you know I made them?"

"Do those two ever do anything for others out of the kindness of their hearts?"

"By 'those two,' I'm assuming you mean Jace."

"Yep."

"You got me there." She plops down on my couch, and I close the front door. "So what do you wanna do today, Clary?"

I shrug. "I don't know. This is a bad idea."

"This is a great idea." Isabelle's eyes have a spark in them. "When was the last time you did anything fun?"

"I—I went to Eric's poetry reading last Wednesday."

"You go every Wednesday. It's part of your routine, so it doesn't count."

I don't know what to say to that. What's wrong with having a routine? The only way I let myself be spontaneous is through my art, because it's the only way I know how. Ever since I got suspended from school and got that super serious talk from my parents, I've been slightly traumatized. Seriously, Jocelyn and Valentine can be so goddamn scary when they're mad.

There's a knock on the door. "It's us," Jace says.

I stand up and open the door for them. They're both carrying two cups of coffee, and Jace hands me mine as a way of greeting. I take a sip of it; it's still warm. "Thanks."

"I know you can't function without it."

"The whipped cream was a nice touch, Wayland."

"You're welcome."

Jace sits down on the couch, and I take the space next to him, hoping that Simon and Isabelle will go make out elsewhere. They sit on the loveseat. Good.

"So," Jace says, "have you decided what we're doing today?"

Isabelle rolls her eyes. "Clary here has no idea what to do."

"I have an idea," Simon announces.

"What?" asks Isabelle.

"Let's go to Big Gay."

"Yes!" Isabelle exclaims, high-fiving her boyfriend.

"I'm up for it," Jace replies.

"Wait, hold up."

"Yeah?" Simon looks amused.

"What the hell is Big Gay?"

"It's an ice cream shop. Its full name is Big Gay Ice Cream."

"Right."

"You'll love it," Isabelle assures me. "But what are we gonna do aside from Big Gay?"

"Well, Clary, where haven't you been?" Jace asks.

I shrug. My parents have always been slightly overprotective, so I haven't really gotten a chance to wander around New York City with my friends. Like, ever. They only let me go two blocks away for Eric's weekly poetry readings, and that's about it. I'm pretty sure the only other time they let me do anything was two months ago, when they let me go to the movies ten blocks away. But that's pretty much it.

"Okay, well, what are our favorite places?" Simon asks Isabelle and Jace.

"Well, I like Times Square. I like Ripley's and that celebrity wax museum—the Madame Tou-something one."

Jace thinks about it for a bit more. "I really like The Strand."

"Yes!" Simon replies with enthusiasm. "We have to take her to The Strand."

"Wait," Isabelle says. "Clary, I have a serious question for you."

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever seen a Broadway show?"

I shake my head slowly and watch as Isabelle's eyes all but pop out of their sockets. She lets out an indignant gasp, and then one more, and then she tells me to get my laptop, because we're going to Broadway.

"How have you lived in New York City for fourteen years without attending a Broadway show?" Jace lowers his voice.

"I'd explain to you how my parents work, but I don't want to."

So, with this information, we make a plan. We have about nine hours, and we take out two for transportation. So, with seven hours, we decide to go to Big Gay Ice Cream, go to Times Square, then Broadway, and then to The Strand.

Should be interesting.

We take our stuff and go to the subway stop, which is four blocks away. We walk in pairs—Izzy with Simon, and me with Jace—and we take in the contrast of the warm sun and the snow on the streets.

"Are you skipping anything important today?" Jace asks me.

I shrug. "A presentation for history class, and a quiz for Spanish. I can make them up easily." I'm trying to act as if it's no big deal, but—

"It bothers you," Jace says, just as I complete the thought in my head with those exact words. "Doesn't it?"

I roll my eyes. "Shut up. What are you missing?"

"Two tests and a presentation."

"Jesus H. Christ."

"What's he have anything to do with this?"

I shake my head. "You're never gonna graduate."

"I'm passing all of my classes. Besides, I already applied to college, so it's fine."

"Why are you absent so much, anyway?"

"I've told you this a million times."

"Well, I wanna hear it again."

He sighs. "Fine. Okay. Look, waking up at 6am every morning to get to a place where we have to follow a shitty system and sit in uncomfortable chairs and eat shitty food and listen to professors who wanna be elsewhere? That's not living."

"But—"

"We're not learning anything useful," he continues. "I've just learned how to cheat and make up the right excuses so teachers will give me extensions. And thank god for the quadratic formula, right?" He shakes his head. "I don't wanna be locked up there for a good eight hours when I could be enjoying the time I have left until I have to learn the things that matter."

I hate to admit it, but he makes a good point. "Is it worth it? I mean, you may not graduate."

"I'll graduate." He waves me off dismissively. "My mom's on the board."

"Will you make sure I graduate?"

He rolls his eyes. "Clary, I'm pretty sure you're the valedictorian."

"Probably not after today," I mutter.

"You're crazy."

"I just wanna make sure that nothing I do will keep me from moving on and doing what I really love, you know?" He looks slightly confused. "Like, if my parents find out I'm skipping or whatever, they might not let me live on my own. Or if I get bad grades, maybe the school I wanna end up attending won't take me in."

"That's crazy."

"Yeah, you said that before."

Jace shakes his head. "Clary, you're so smart and responsible. I get what you're saying, but one day of trying to live your life isn't going to make that untrue."

I guess he's right. When did I become so paranoid? I shake my head. "I'm being stupid."

"A little bit."

I smack his shoulder lightly, playfully. "You're the worst."

"Am I really worse than those two?" He points to Isabelle and Simon, who keep kissing every 0.5 seconds.

"I need to get new friends."

"I'm afraid you need a social life for that, Clarissa."

"Oh, you're so dead."

He starts skipping around as I try to hit him in various places, but he's much more graceful than I am, so he's able to dodge my attempts effortlessly. When we finally reach a stoplight, I jab my elbow to his side.

"Motherfu—"

"That's what you get, bitch."

We make it to Big Gay Ice Cream, where it's about the same temperature as the outside. I order a Bea Arthur (vanilla ice cream mixed with dulce de leche and crushed vanilla wafers), Jace orders the Salty Pimp (vanilla ice cream mixed with dulce de leche, sea salt, and topped with chocolate dip), and Isabelle and Simon order the Gobbler (which has apple butter, bourbon butterscotch, pie pieces, and whipped cream). As we make our way back out and I try the ice cream for the first time, I come to the conclusion that Big Gay Ice Cream is heaven.

"I seriously love this so hard."

"Isn't it amazing?" Isabelle beams at me.

"You two are disgusting," Jace says to her and Simon. "How can you eat ice cream with fruit flavors?"

"Says the guy eating ice cream with salt." Isabelle shivers.

He waves her off. "It's delicious."

"So is this."

"I think we can all agree that the Bea Arthur is the best," I say.

"Are you loving today yet?" Izzy asks me with a wink.

I stick my tongue out at her. Now that I'm eating ice cream, the cold is getting to me a little more, but it's okay.

"So, Times Square?" Simon asks.

Isabelle's squeal reveals the answer.

"What time is it?" Jace asks. "We need to get Broadway tickets."

"It's 11:30, so that starts in two and a half hours."

We agree that Jace and Simon should go buy the tickets while Isabelle shows me around Times Square. I've been to Times Square with my mom. Once. When I was, like, seven. So, basically, I don't remember.

Isabelle and I get off the subway first. The boys promise to text us with a meeting place, and we barely have time to nod before the doors close and they're off.

"How long has it been since you've been on the subway?" Isabelle asks as I struggle to keep up with her crazy pace.

"A few years."

"Jesus."

"We mostly take taxis."

She doesn't reply as we go up the stairs in a rush. Once we make it up, the fast pace of the city really hits me. I pull her to the side so we're out of people's ways. I take a deep breath and admire the view before me, the tall buildings and fluorescent billboards making me feel welcome. I love New York City.

"How have I gone this long without coming here?"

"I come here every weekend, basically, so I really don't know."

Suddenly, I'm angry. I'm angry at my mom for not letting me feel like this—happy and with a sense of thrill coursing through my veins. I'm admiring everything all at once, and it feels amazing. I don't feel scared or insecure; I feel alive.

And, just like that, I understand what Jace has been saying all this time. What does it matter if we're alive—if we're able to breathe and move around and do thing—if we're not really living our lives? We follow the same boring routine—the routine I'd welcomed all of these years—and we miss out on things like Times Square and Big Gay Ice Cream.

"We should probably start walking around," she says. "I know exactly where to take you."

"Not shopping," I warn her.

"No," she says. "But you're gonna thank me for this."

My mouth hangs open as I walk around the best mothereffing Toys R' Us I've ever been in.

Seriously. There's a Ferris wheel inside. A freakin' Ferris wheel full of colors and lights. It's divided into section, but the Willy Wonka section calls to me.

I walk around, admiring the shit ton of candy in front of me. "Have the boys texted yet?" I ask Izzy absentmindedly.

"Yeah. I told them to meet us at a different store, so we should probably get going."

"We're leaving?" I pout.

"Jesus, you're the love child of a 7-year-old and a tourist."

"Izzyyyy."

"You'll like this one too. I promise."

And, oh, do I ever. We show up a few minutes early, which gives me plenty of time to admire the rainbow of M&Ms before me. Seriously, how do people come in without leaving with a crap ton of M&Ms?

"Do you want some, Clary?"

"Yep."

Isabelle buys me a bunch of M&Ms, and I eat them while we wait for Simon and Jace.

"Hey, can I ask you a question?"

I nod, wondering what is it she could possibly want to ask me. "What's up?"

"Do you like Jace?"

I almost spit out my M&Ms. "What?"

She sighs. "Well, you two don't usually interact that much, but this year you've been getting really close. And, I mean, he knows stuff about you, and vice-versa, and you're always talking to him, and I know you said you didn't want a boyfriend until college, but do you like him?"

I'm blushing by this point, because of course I am. How can she ask me a question like that and expect me to remain calm?

And, I mean, as to her actual question…do I like Jace? "I don't know," I admit. "Why are you asking me this now?"

"Because I kept thinking, you know," she tells me, "about how there's a lot you haven't experienced. And a lot of it is because of your mom, which I get, but I don't want you to limit yourself just because you're scared of messing up. You're human, you know? You're bound to mess up."

"Look, Izzy—"

She holds a finger up. "I'm not saying that you like him. I'm just saying that, if you were to maybe hypothetically like him, you should let yourself feel the emotions that come with that. Because, like, I'm with Simon, right? And I never really thought I'd be happy with a boyfriend, but this year has been the best of my life, and I don't see myself spending the rest of it with anyone else." She shakes her head. "And that drives my mom nuts, you know, because she's all like, 'You're gonna meet other guys—more interesting, more successful, more attractive guys—and you're going to regret thinking that being in love at 17 equates to being in love for the rest of your life.'"

"Well…"

"I know." She gives me a look that makes me shut up. "But, anyway, I guess that what I'm trying to say is that there's fearlessness in trying, and you should try to be fearless."

Before I can reply, the boys walk in, and they smile when they see me eating M&Ms.

"Did you get the tickets?" Izzy asks, our conversation forgotten.

"2pm show," Jace confirms. "And it's twelve"

"So the wax museum and then Broadway?"

"Sounds good to me," he replies. Simon and I make noises of agreement, and we head in the direction of the wax museum.

The three of them seem to know exactly where they're going, and, just like earlier, I struggle to catch up with them. I keep getting distracted by the huge ads on the buildings. I keep bumping into people, too, but they move on too fast for me to apologize. It's like I've been living in an entirely different place my entire life. I don't have the capacity to be angry at my parents when I have to take this new feeling in.

Before the sea of people swallows me, I feel a hand clasping mine. I look up and see Jace giving me a hurry up type of look as he lightly tugs at my arm to keep me moving. I'm infinitely grateful for this gesture, because I would've definitely gotten lost otherwise.

We arrive at Madame Tussauds, the wax museum. Isabelle pays for our tickets, and we make our way up a long set of stairs, having opted for the individual tour. Simon takes out his phone and takes pictures of us posing with the different celebrities. We ask other people to take group pictures of us, too. I pose next to Daniel Craig like a superspy, and Isabelle gives Taylor Lautner a kiss on the cheek. Jace poses with Angelina Jolie, and Simon with Tyra Banks.

We move on to the next room, where Einstein and Maya Angelou stand. I take pictures with everyone I recognize, and even with the people I don't. Isabelle, Simon, and Jace yell out silly commands, like "blow a raspberry!" or "stick out your tongue!" or "make a funny face!" and the results have them laughing every five seconds.

The next room has characters from TV and film. We all pose with ET and basically with everyone. I sit in a directing chair next to Steven Spielberg. At the end of this room, there's a news set where you can report your own segment. Jace and I report ours, but we aren't able to keep straight faces. When it comes time for Isabelle and Simon to report, they burst out laughing and just start making out. Oh god.

Simon is practically squealing as we enter a room full of historical figures. There's another Einstein, and there's a replica of Obama's desk at the Oval Office. Jace has a staring contest with George Washington, and Isabelle's the one taking pictures of Simon. I, of course, take pictures of Jace.

I basically get a lady boner as we enter a room full of Marvel characters. I pose with all of them—seriously, we're in this room for ten minutes. However, Isabelle reminds us that it's almost one, so we hurry along. There's a video thing for this part, but we make our way to the next exhibit while I silently weep.

There's a part full of New York-type things. We all stop there to admire the city. Isabelle, Simon, and Jace don't try to tell me that we should hurry along. They let me take in the things that have been right in front of me all along, but that I've never been able to see. I take it all in: the Statue of Liberty, the Rockettes, famous artists, an actual cab, street names, subway signs, show sets. There's a feeling rising up inside me, something that tells me that I haven't seen even a fraction of what's out there. And I want to. I want to know every corner of New York, and I want to know Europe, and South America, and islands people don't know exist. I've never felt so utterly overwhelmed at the thought of what's left to explore.

"How do you feel?" Jace asks me.

I shake my head. "Full."

"Full?"

"And empty."

He puts an arm around me like it's the most casual thing in the world. But we've never touched like this before. Ever. I can't make a huge deal out of it, because I can't handle more emotions, so I wrap my arm around his back (because I'm short, goddamn it) and admire the view.

I don't know what this means. Is this a friendship kind of thing? I'm kind of confused, but infinitely grateful when Isabelle interrupts and tells us that we have to keep moving.

We breeze through the Pop Culture, Music Experience, Sports Zone, and Authentic History exhibits (though we do stop to take a few pictures), and it's almost 1:15 when we get out. We run towards the subway stop, feeling exhilarated. We hold hands—Isabelle and Simon, and me and Jace. We run, and I feel like I can do anything. I probably can't, but I feel a confidence I've never felt before, a grace in the way that I walk.

We can finally breathe when, by 1:30, we're already on our way to Broadway. Thankfully, it's not terribly far. We make it to the actual theater with 5 minutes to spare, breathing heavily. We buy some candy and popcorn and some sodas before we make our way in.

I've barely had time to register all of this, but it's happening. I mean, this is it. My first Broadway show. These are supposed to be amazing and breathtaking. Isabelle says that this is her favorite musical, and she's built it up for me.

But whatever notion I had in my head turns out to be absolutely nothing like the breathtaking spectacle that I witness after the lights go out and the musical begins.

I sit in between Jace and Isabelle, wondering briefly if my proximity to Jace was something she planned all along. As the musical develops, I feel myself slipping into this weird state of happiness. I never realized what happiness truly felt like until right now, as I feel Jace's presence next to me and watch the scenes unfolding in front of me.

When the play is done, I'm awestruck. "That," I say to my friends, still sitting in my chair, "is the best damn thing I've ever seen. Ever."

"Remind me to convince Jocelyn to let me take her out to real slam poetry," Jace says.

"Yeeees," Simon agrees, and they high five. You know things are weird when Simon and Jace start behaving civil-ish.

"So, listen," Isabelle says. "Simon and I have to go babysit Max."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah. You know, I figured that, since the last stop is his favorite place, he could take you by himself."

Which is how we end up taking different trains. Simon and Isabelle go home hand-in-hand. I like looking at them sometimes, at the way she effortlessly rests her head on his shoulders. She doesn't need to ask him if it's okay. She just does it. They're so comfortable with each other, and I find myself wanting that more than I would ever admit to anyone.

Jace takes my hand and leads me into the subway. It's full, so we hold on to one of the poles. I focus on him, on the way he is so familiar it hurts. I used to like him, because who didn't? He can charm anyone in 2.5 seconds. He's got a smile that makes me go weak in the knees, and his eyes are the color of honey. His hand feels soft when it brushes against mine. I find myself wondering if I ever stopped feeling for him in the first place.

We finally get off the subway. I let him take my hand again as he leads me out of the station and up the stairs.

"It's close to the station. Just a block or so," he says. We walk at a normal pace. It's 5:15. We have an hour before we have to head back.

He points to the bookstore and starts picking up his pace. He looks happier as we approach The Strand.

I remember being surprised when I found out that Jace reads. I mean, I try not to categorize people into the stereotypes people would usually give them, but it was hard with him. He had the looks and the charm and the smile and the skills to be a jock. I thought he was one, especially since he was kind of a dillhole, until I found out that, by some twisted miracle, Jace is actually really, really, really smart. He loves to read. He lives for planning and strategizing.

I think that was the moment when I realized that I felt something other than occasional feelings of friendship towards him.

When we enter the store, I can see why he got so excited. I mean, the store, when compared to something like Barnes & Noble, is kind of cramped and the space between shelves are slightly narrow.

But it's gorgeous.

I mean, there are rows upon rows upon rows and shelves of books. There are books on the floor and on tables and in shelves. It's pretty much the most beautiful thing I've seen in my entire life. I mean, I've seen a lot of beautiful shit today, and I've loved every second of it, but there's something about having so many stories compiled together in one place that tugs at my heart and makes me want to come here every second of every day.

I love it.

It's a shame that we only have forty-five minutes before we have to leave. I browse through the shelves of the first floor, taking a clothbound copy of Pride and Prejudice (which I own every other edition of), a book with poetry by Pablo Neruda, and The Shining by Stephen King. I go upstairs to the young adult section and pick up two more books before deciding that, sadly, it's time to go.

Jace buys four books for himself and pays for mine. "Isn't it amazing?"

"Dude, this is…" I shake my head. "I can't even describe it. I want to live here, because it feels like magic."

He gives me a small smile, and there's a look in his eyes that I can't quite put my finger on. However, it's gone before I can ask, and we hold hands as we walk through the streets of New York City and back to the subway.

We're one of the very last stops on the subway, so we're there for a good hour or so.

Jace and I sit next to each other the whole times. Sometimes he'll be reading, and he'll be so engrossed in his book that I'll look at him for a while and admire the way he manages to absorb everything he gets into.

"You're staring," Jace points out.

"Oh my god."

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

"I hoped."

He closes his book. He doesn't look mad or anything, just amused. "What's up?"

"Thanks for today," I say. "I mean, seriously."

He doesn't say anything. But then: "What do you wanna do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, college."

I shake my head. "I have no fuckin' clue, to be honest."

He gives me his signature smile without even meaning to. "Yeah, me neither."

"I feel like you could do anything," I blurt out.

"Yeah, well," he says to me, "you see me differently than I see myself."

"Is that a good thing?"

He nods. "I think so. You see good things in people."

"Yeah, well, you're not as bad as you think you are, Wayland."

"I'm offended by that accusation, Fray."

I grin and let him go back to his book.

It's five minutes to seven, and he walks me to my house.

Jace is holding my hand. Thankfully, we have a few extra minutes, since my mom had a meeting that ran late. Anyway, it feels right. Since there's no sun, the temperature has dropped, and the wind and leftover snow make my insides feel cold.

"Wanna come in?" I ask. "My mom's not gonna be here for like twenty more minutes."

He shrugs. "Sure." We've never really hung out alone. We always hang out with Simon and Isabelle, as a group. It's always felt right.

But this feels even better.

I let him into the apartment, feeling slightly nervous. I don't know why, though. I mean, he's been in here a million times over the past four years.

But not just with me.

"Do you want anything to drink?"

"Some water would be awesome."

We walk into the kitchen. "So I meant it, you know," I say. "When I said thank you earlier. This was—is—the best day of my life."

He takes the glass of water from my hands. "Are you sure about that?"

"One hundred percent."

"There's a lot left to see," he tells me.

"Jace—"

"I meant on spring break. And summer. The year isn't over yet."

The year isn't over yet. On the one hand, I really wanna graduate. It's my endgame. But, on the other hand, I don't want to leave all of these people behind. I want to go on with my life, and I know I can do all the work by myself, but I don't know how I'm supposed to say goodbye to the people who have been there through every tantrum my parents have thrown, through every almost-failed test, through every all-nighter. I don't know how I'm just supposed to move hundreds upon hundreds of miles away from the people who make me smile and show me how to live my life.

I sometimes wonder how some people consider themselves strong enough to go through this without any doubts.

I mean, I'll most likely move to Manhattan for college. I'll stay in state, but I'll be on my own. Independent. I didn't apply anywhere where I could commute, because I told my parents that it was time for me to go. My mom got sort of teary-eyed, but they both agreed. Though I'm sure they'll be calling and visiting every two minutes.

If.

If I stay in the state.

It's sort of crazy to think that I don't know where I'll be seven months. I could be in California, or New York, or New Jersey, or Pennsylvania. I could be in Connecticut. I could be living in my parents' apartment still. There are so many things I don't know, and it's driving me insane.

"Is it bad that I sometimes want it to be?"

Jace shakes his head. "We all want to graduate."

"But I don't wanna lose you."

He takes my hand in his. "I'm about to become the biggest cheeseball ever, but you're not. You're not ever gonna lose me, Clary Fray. Believe it or not," he adds, "you're my best friend."

And then it hits me that he's my best friend, too. Well, one of the three, anyway.

"Is it normal, though," he continues, "to want to kiss your best friend?"

I bite my lip, pretty certain that I'm blushing a thousand shades of red. "You're asking the wrong person. I'm a sheltered child."

"Clary?"

"Yes."

"I had a really awesome time today."

"Good. That's good," I say lamely.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Clary?"

"Mhmm." I let out a little string of nervous laughter.

"Can I kiss you?"

I nod, pressing my forehead against his. When our lips meet, it's all the lightning and fireworks that people talk about. I'm pretty sure that most of that's because he's a really great kisser, but I don't have anyone else to compare him to.

And I don't need to.

He tugs at my waist, pulling me closer. I try to channel everything I've seen in the movies while mixing that in with my natural instinct, though that's mostly telling me to take him to the bedroom and screw everything else. I kiss him until I feel like my lips might bruise, and then I let go, trying to gain my composure.

"I've been waiting a long time for that," he comments.

"Yeah," I say, realizing that I mean it. "Me too."

After kissing again, I walk him out. The cold air hits me harder now that I don't have my coat on, but I don't care. The mere thought of him keeps me warm inside.

He gives me a kiss that leaves me breathless. "I'll be seeing you," he says, walking away before I can even come up with a coherent reply.

Yep. This is definitely the best day of my life.

I realize that I only have ten minutes before my mom gets home, so I make sure that everything's clean before I go into my room, take off my shoes and outfit, put on my old pajamas, and tuck myself into bed.

As if on cue, my mom comes in to check on me. She looks worried, like she's been waiting all day to come check on me. I feel kind of guilty, but then I remember that it's because of that guilt that I've allowed her to stop me from seeing and experiencing wonderful things. I'm still slightly angry, but I let it go for now.

"How are you doing?" she asks me.

"Better," I say. "I've been taking Advil and sleeping with the window cracked open a little so I don't get too warm. It's working, I think."

"Good. So, school tomorrow?"

"Definitely." I nod.

"Good to hear." She kisses my forehead. "I love you. You know that, right?"

I nod again. "I love you too, Mom."

When she leaves, I think about everything that happened today. I do love her and appreciate her, but I needed this. I needed to lie to her and to the school. I needed to take this day off and learn the things I didn't know about my city and let myself fall in love a little bit with the world. And with Jace. Oops.

Anyway, I want a million more days like this. I want more days of feeling like I can do anything, like nothing will ever stop me from doing what I want.

And I think a thought I've never really thought before: this is the best day of my entire goddamn life.

Let me know what you think! xo