Clary POV
"Mom…" I whined for what felt like the millionth time in that hour. What I was begging for you may ask? Only the highest edge bow an archer could ever dream of having! I sighed innerly just thinking about it, the beautiful silver finish, perfect weight, adjustable pull back, and to top it all off, it was featured in my favorite movie ever The Hunger Games! I almost let my begging façade fade into addoration while lost in thought about it. But of cource I didn't. Clary Fray doesn't lose arguments.
"Fine!" Clary's mom exclaimed, finally giving in. I'm almost positive that in that moment my smile shined brighter than the sun. "IF," and with that small word my smile fadded to a frown. "if, you save up the money yourself" Still I was greatful that she was allowing me to at least try to save up for the perfect bow.
"Thank you!" I squealed as I threw mysef at her, she cought me with ease concidering my height, I'm only 5 foot 4 at least a head shorter than my 16 year old peers. To make it even worse I had red hair. Not the cute red hair, but a red somewhere inbetween an opened flame and crimison, to make it even better, it was a curly mess that took hours to tame and got twisted again when I stepped barly a foot out the door. I hope you cought the sarcasm there. But I wasn't going to let that wreck my great mood.
I sprinted stright to my room, working on adrenaline, I opened the door and slamed it behind me, rushed stright to my desk, and opened my black sketchbook. If their was anythig I loved doing more than archery, it was drawing. I had the perfect image in mind and I just had to put it on paper. I let my hand roam freely across the page and when I was finished, what lay before me was a beautiful girt dressed in a leather jacked bow pressed up to her cheek, emerald green eyes focused on her target. Though this girl looked like me, I knew it wasn't. This girl was much to beautiful to be me.
I sighed as I daydreamed about the bow and all I had to to do was save up… 500 dollars… this might be a tad bit harder than I had hoped. I suppose if I got paid 10 dollars an hour and I worked for three hours a day… I would only have to babysit for 50 days. A small time to work for such a great reward. Because all I could really do at this age is babysit, that's what I'd have to settle for.
Little did I know I was walking stright into one of the biggest problem I would ever face.