I only own the plot!

This will be LOOSELY based on America's Got Talent, even though the name of the show is the same. I will change a few aspects (number of rounds, etc) to fit the story. Clace, a bit of Malec and Sizzy. I hope you guys like it :)

Also, the title is a work-in-progress… if you have a better idea, please let me know!

"Clarissa Adele Fray," my mother said, storming into my room. "What is this?"

She held out her phone to me. I took it and looked at the screen. Crap. She had it opened to my email account, showing the email I had received not 2 hours earlier. The one verifying that I signed up for and was welcome to participate in the auditions to America's Got Talent It was the biggest talent show in the country, and was aired live on national TV.

"I FORBADE YOU TO SIGN UP!" she yelled, gripping my arm.

"WELL SORRY IF I WANT TO PURSUE MY DREAMS!" I screamed. "AND WHY WERE YOU LOOKING THROUGH MY EMAILS?"

"I absolutely forbid you to go to this audition, Clarissa," she said.

"WHY?"

"Because you have NO talent! And NO shot at winning this competition because you're such a talentless piece of shit!"

This was crossing the line. My mother always verbally abuses me; it was part of the reason her and dad got a divorce. I was forced to travel between their houses, even though I wanted so badly to live with my dad permanently. I only had three months left until I was eighteen. Three months until I could escape my mother and move to Pittsburgh to be with my father, who never told me I had no talent. Singing was my passion; I had sung ever since I was eight.

"No," I said, and somehow my voice was calm yet somehow angry. "That's not true. You're just a bitch."

"You'll pay for that, later," She said. She locked my door and went into the hall. God, I hated her. This was the last straw. Tears pooled in my eyes.

Throwing a suitcase onto my bed, I angrily shoved stuff in it; clothes, money, snacks from my stash (my mother sometimes denied me lunch or dinner), toothbrush, toothpaste, some hair stuff, and some other things. Scribbling in my messy handwriting, I left a note on my bed.

Screw you.

I opened my window and climbed out. I thanked God we lived in a one-story house. I set off at a brisk pace. We lived not far from the city, and there I could stay at my friend's house until the day of the auditions. I popped earphones into my ears and listened to my phone's vast music library. Before I knew it, I was at Malcolm's apartment building. It was a gray brick structure, with rickety metal staircases on the outside. When I reached Malcolm's floor (floor three), I knocked impatiently.

"Open the door, Malcolm!" I yelled. I heard hurried footsteps from the other side and the door opened. I shoved my way inside. Malcolm was tall, with an angular face topped by white hair. His eyes were the oddest shade of purple, and they glinted in the florescent lighting of the hallway.

"Hey Clary," he said, curious. "What's up?"

"Can I stay here for a few days?" I asked. "Please? Just until the auditions."

Nodding his head in understanding, he closed the door behind him. "Of course. Though, I am leaving for LA tomorrow morning. I have a family reunion." I thanked him and put my stuff in the guest bedroom. I told Malcolm I was getting some fresh air and stepped into the cool night air. I walked around the town for a while before stepping into a quaint and cozy coffee shop called Java Jones. Signs advertising new flavors covered the wall behind the counter, and there only a few other people sitting at tables. I absolutely hate hot coffee, but I love iced coffee. It's a pain in the winter, but in the summer it's heaven.

After grabbing my iced coffee with cream, I sat at a table in the far corner of the shop. I dialed my dad's number. After three rings, he picked up.

"Hey, Clare!" he said, sounding cheerful.

"Hey Dad," I said.

"What's going on?"

I laughed humorlessly. "Well," I said sarcastically. "Mom basically told me I had no talent and forbade me to audition, so I ran away and here I am, at a coffee shop in the middle of the city, and who knows? Maybe when I leave I'll get mugged."

"Are you serious?" he asked, shocked. "Oh, Clary."

"Yeah," I sighed.

"Oh my God. Clary, you have talent. Loads of it. You're the most talented girl I know."

"Really?"

"Well, yeah."

"I don't know."

"Don't listen to her. Clary, your mother was different when she was younger. Then one day… I don't know. It was like someone injected her with demon blood." He laughed dryly.

"Well, I thought you should know I'm not going back there. Ever."

"You can stay with me."

"I was hoping you'd say that. In the meantime, I'm crashing with Malcolm."

"He's a good kid," Dad said affectionately.

I rolled my eyes. "Uh huh."

"Well, Clary. Good luck with your audition. I'll be watching from home. I wish I could be there with you, but work is really hectic."

"Dad, it's okay," I sighed.

"Love you, Clary."

"Love you," I said. Hanging up, I sighed and put my phone down. I rested my forehead in my hands a I mulled everything over. I would stay at Malcolm's, and after that, the show would be providing hotel rooms for us. I really wanted to win this competition. Partly to just show the world that I exist, and I can sing. I want to sign to a record label. I want to prove to my mother that I do have talent, but that's stupid because she'll never see that. Auditions are easy to pass; they let everyone through unless you're exceptionally horrible. Judgment Week is the real deal. It's probably the hardest round to pass because the judges are especially harsh that week. After that, it's on to the live shows.

I picked up my coffee and walked out of the shop. I had only made it a few steps when someone called out.

"Hey-wait!"

I turned to see a guy running towards me. He stopped in front of me, and I could admire his looks. Golden, curly hair framed his face. His eyes were gold-flecked, and his lips were very, very full and kissable. He was reasonably muscled, and his shirt hugged his body in all the right places.

"You forgot your phone," he said, holding it out to me. Of course. Why else would he run up to me? It's not like my looks were exceptionally pleasing; bright red hair, green eyes, pale skin, mediocre curves.

"Oh," I said disappointedly. "Uh, thanks."

I took it from him, and his touch sent a shock through my body. I let my hand linger until he cleared his throat and I blushed.

"Anytime," he said. He grinned, cocky and crooked. I noticed one of his teeth were chipped. It was an imperfection, but I found it cute.

He retreated backwards into the coffee shop, still smiling. The door opened as he walked through, knocking him over. I hurried over, trying to keep my laughter at bay.

"Are you okay?" I grinned, and he grinned back.

"No," he whined. "I need you to kiss my booboo!"

Snorting, I helped him up.

"You're laughing!" he cried.

"I am not," I smiled. "Okay, I am. Your attempt at a cool exit was foiled by a door."

"I will add doors to my list of enemies. Right after ducks," he declared.

"Ducks?"

"Evil creatures," he informed me. "I think we're blocking the entryway." We left the coffee shop and talked for a bit. His name was Jace Wayland. When I told him my name, he smiled.

"Clarissa," he tried it out, letting it roll off his tongue. My name sounded beautiful coming from his mouth, but anywhere else it sounded ugly.

"Call me Clary," I said.

"Okay Clary," he said. "Do you-"

He was interrupted by his cell phone ringing. He answered.

"Yello." I smiled at the greeting.

"Sorry, I didn't realize the time."

"NO, I am not in a Russian strip club!" He looked horrified and indignant, and I laughed.

"Someone."

"None of your business."

"Fine."

He put his phone away and smiled apologetically. "I have to go. Maybe we could see each other again sometime?"

"That sounds pretty good." I smiled. "Russian strip club?"

He cringed. "My cousin is kind of crazy."

"I'm sure he's not the only one," I teased.

"Ha, ha," he said dryly, then smiled. "So, bye?"

"Bye."

Soo… thoughts? Next chapter will be the day of the auditions, so Jace will be back! Whoooo

Drop me a review?