I was GOING to keep working on my Infernal Devices fic but something funny popped into my head, I wrote it down, and I found myself writing this.

OK, I just remembered what I wanted to say...*clears throat* THANK YOU guys so much for the 5 reviews and 2 favs (and over 100 views) I got for my other one-shot: When Will and Jessamine Really Fight. You have NO idea how happy I am to see I got that much less than twenty-four hours after publishing, which is why I'm gonna work on a TMI fic straightaway after this as a gift for you guys. It might take awhile, though, since school has just started and they're already assigning homework. :(

Also, Happy birthday, dear little sister! I know I'm publishing this a bit late, but at least I did it. Jeez. ;D My BD gift to you. (::)

Anyways, this story (if you want something less professional than the summary) is a TMI short story. Notice how I say short story, not one-shot. They are two totally different things. A short story is just shorter than most stories, which means about ten chapters max. Maybe I'll make it longer, depends.

Enjoy!

-Marie E. Brooke

Disclaimer: No, the world hasn't been destroyed, and I haven't magically turned into Cassandra Clare. I wish...


~A Reddish Shade of Gold~

A TMI fanfic by

Marie E. Brooke


Clary sagged against a rack of clothes, almost pushing it over, and dropped Isabelle's bags onto the ground. Earlier that day, Isabelle had wheedled her into taking a girl's day out with her. Clary, whose only friend was Simon (not counting Isabelle), had no idea what a girl's day was, so she agreed to go. She soon realized what it meant; endless hours of shopping and talking about boys, two things that Clary had absolute zero interest in. But it was too late and there was no backing out now. Well, her legs seemed to have a different idea. They slid out from under her and she collapsed onto the ground in a heap of exhaustion, bringing half the clothes rack down with her.

"Clary!" squealed Isabelle, clutching a bright pink shopping bag filled with clothes. "Look what I got-at a bargain!" In Isabelle's rush, she accidentally stepped on the mound of chic clothes that was Clary. She groaned slightly as the heel of Isabelle's high-heeled boot squished onto her face. "Clary? Where are you? OMG!" Isabelle started to hyperventilate.

"I'm here," came Clary's muffled voice.

"Where?" Isabelle scanned her surroundings, but saw nothing red except an unfashionable red sweater. "OMG! Come back, Clary!" She bounced on the balls of her feet in agitation. "Clary!"

Ow, ow, ow. "I'm- Ouch! Dammit!- right under you," said Clary.

"Huh?" Isabelle stepped off the pile of clothes and, seeing a strand of red hair, quickly dug Clary out of Mount Fashionable. "OMG! You're safe! I'm so sorry! OMG!"

"That's the fourth time you've said 'OMG.'" deadpanned Clary, brushing dust off her faded blue T-shirt. "Also the fourth time you did the exact same thing to me," she added, cupping her red cheek with her hand.

"OMG! Um...sorry?" said Isabelle, unsure of what to say.

Clary facepalmed. "Whatever. Can we go now?" asked Clary hopefully.

Isabelle shot her the Look. Clary tried to avert her eyes but it was too late; the damage was done. Isabelle's Look was dangerous. It saw straight through your soul and dug out all your secrets for the public to see. With Isabelle's large, chocolate-brown eyes emphasized with black eyeliner and expertly brushed with mascara, the Look was executed without flaw. Isabelle rarely used it unless it was a real emergency. In this case, the emergency was a coupon for Victoria's Secret.

"Fine," grumbled Clary in defeat. "You win. Why can't you just go shopping with someone else and let this poor, exhausted coat-hanger have a break?"

Isabelle smiled triumphantly. "Because," she said, blowing a kiss to a boy who fainted at the sight of her eyes directed toward him, "I like to win. Besides, I rock at Bambi eyes."

"Some best friend. Taking advantage of her loyal other just so she can buy Target," murmured Clary resentfully under her breath. Isabelle heard her and chuckled.

"Silly Clary. Why would I want to shop at Target? Their clothes are so...plain," she said, spitting out the last word as if it were poison. She sounded like she wanted to say something much worse than simple. "Anyways, let's go to Victoria's Secret next!" She started to drag Clary towards Victoria's Secret. Clary started to protest but was quickly silenced with Isabelle's warning look. She settled for fuming under her breath about high heels as Isabelle continued to drag Clary.

To make a long story short, Clary ended up storming out of the mall with a bad bruise and temper.


Clary sighed as she dug into her pocket for her keys. How could she not find them? Before she could find them, though, the door swung open to reveal her brother leaning against the doorway.

"How did you know I was here?" she asked flatly.

"I heard your yell of frustration when you couldn't find your keys," he said.

"You're creepy," she said in the same flat tone, and shoved past him into the house.

"Love you too!" he called out, chuckling at her retreating figure. She ignored him and stormed upstairs. Once she was in the sanctuary of her room, she started to get to work. Her backpack was slung on the back of her dark mahogany chair. With a sigh, Clary pulled out her ginormous pile of homework from her backpack. She cracked her knuckles and, with her pencil gripped tightly in her hand, charged. Bits of paper and eraser crumbs flew into the air as she worked furiously, her pencil darting across the once pristine and now crumbled white paper.

After about ten grumbles (screams) of annoyance and five broken pencils later, a satisfied Clary lay back in her chair, arms crossed behind her head. She had finally finished her English essay. She was feeling quite pleased with herself...until she remembered that she had a science project due in 2 days and 5 pages of math problems.

It took 5 more frustrated yells before Clary's mother, Jocelyn, began to get suspicious of the unnecessary noise coming from upstairs.

"Make sure to turn down the heat when the pot boils, OK? I'll be back in a minute to check on Clary," Jocelyn informed him, bustling up the stairs. Sebastian smirked, thinking about how much trouble Clary would be in. He heard a rattling sound, and turned around to see white foam frothing from the lid. He ran over at top speed and quickly tried to quell the bubbly explosion in the kitchen. He certainly wasn't smiling when burning water spilled on his hand and his shirt.


"Stupid math problem! Reveal your secrets!" she said angrily to the blank page in front of her. She soon realized that a) She sounded dorky because she quoted Simon and b) She sounded crazy because she was talking to her homework. Reluctantly, she picked up her pencil and pressed it to the page, imagining that the pencil was a sword and the paper her math teacher. She returned to her homework with a renewed vigor and finished it quickly (disregarding the fact she got most of them wrong).

"Clary?" Jocelyn popped her head through the doorway, her long red hair barely brushing the floor. She seemed relieved that Clary was in one piece, but narrowed her eyes when they caught sight of the papery mess on Clary's desk. "Clary," said Jocelyn in a patronizing tone, "Why and when did the wastebasket explode?"

Clary gave her mother a sheepish look. "I may or may have not torn up my homework in frustration."

Jocelyn pointed at Clary with one manicured finger. "Spill. Now."

"Well, I was going shopping with Izzy-" started Clary.

"What were you doing shopping with Isabelle?" interrupted Jocelyn. "You don't even like shopping. You could have gone in the summer. School only started a week ago. Besides, if you developed some sort of love for shopping I didn't know of-wait, you did! It was those dastardly girls at your school, wasn't it? I knew that you should have done-"

"She gave me bambi eyes."

"Oh. Okay, then." Jocelyn blinked. She knew the power of bambi eyes as well as Clary did. "I understand. Good luck on the test tomorrow!" she called out as she clambered down the stairs. "Wait-Sebastian, what in the name of God did you do!" Clary faintly heard Sebastian's protests and her mother's screams. She grinned like an idiot for a few seconds. Then she realized what Jocelyn had said. They had a test tomorrow? Oh well, she could worry about that later. There were more important matters to be settled.

"Isabelle. Get out from under my bed," said Clary, crouching down. A second later, a figure clad in fashionable black emerged from under the bed and rudely blew her nose on Clary's neon orange comforter. "Hey!" protested Clary.

"What?" said Isabelle, who was now rummaging through Clary's closet. She pulled out a pack of gummy worms and opened it. "Want one?" she asked as she started stuffing her face.

Clary rolled her eyes. "First you finish off my jumbo-pack of jellybeans, and now this," she said. "I thought you were on a diet."

"I still am," mumbled Isabelle as she continued to chow on Clary's food. "At school."

"You're like Simon," said Clary, shaking her head. "You guys both eat a lot and still manage not to be fat."

Isabelle immediately swallowed her candy. "I'm not!" she protested, putting the bag in its rightful place in the closet. It was no secret that Isabelle was jealous of Clary and Simon's relationship. Isabelle had even told Clary herself that she wished their relationship would be more like Clary's with Simon. Clary had told her - truthfully and bit harshly, she now thought- that their friendship could never be like that. Isabelle had sulked for the rest of the day and refused to talk to Clary, but the next day it was like nothing happened, although Isabelle now had a deep hatred of Simon and hated to be compared to him. "Ooh...is that pasta I smell?" asked Isabelle, hastily changing the subject. Clary decided to let her.

"Yeah. It's for dinner." Isabelle ran through her open bedroom door and made a beeline to the kitchen. "Hey-wait!" Clary tried to outrun her, but adding in the fact that Isabelle had longer legs and had a head start, it was pretty much pointless.

"Yeah, I was thinking that maybe we could invite your two brothers, Jace and Alec, as well?" Jocelyn was saying.

"What! No!" yelled Clary, choosing to burst into the kitchen at the moment. "If Jace, Alec and Sebastian are in the same room things will get ugly."

"Yeah, Clary's right," said Isabelle, nodding. "Those three are trouble in caps."

"But it wouldn't be right to invite their sister and not them-"

"Who?"

Jace was leaning on the wall in all his blond glory. Behind him, Alec lurked, mostly in the shadows. The darkness of the shadows and his hair made his pale skin and bottle blue eyes stand out starkly in comparison.

"When did you get here?" asked Isabelle, regarding the boys with a cross look on her face.

"Seb over here invited us," said Jace, patting Sebastian's shoulder, who had just walked into the room. "Thanks, man. Is that pasta I smell?"

Alec, who was busy brooding and looking cool, looked up. "Pasta?" he asked, sniffing the air. "Oh, yeah. I am in." He scurried into the kitchen.

"It's just pasta," muttered Clary.

"Dinner's ready, children!" said Jocelyn, setting down five steaming plates of pasta coated with red sauce. Steam wafted through the air and clouded Clary's vision. She swatted at the air impatiently.

"You don't say 'just pasta' once you've tasted Izzy's horrible cooking," said Jace, picking up his fork and stabbing it into his food.

"What did you just say?" said Isabelle, pointing her plastic knife at Jace in a menacing way only Isabelle could achieve.

Jace averted eye contact. "Nothing. Anyways, where's weasel face?" he asked, directing the question at Clary.

"His name is Simon," said Clary calmly. "He was busy tonight. Why?"

"Probably off with his nerdy friends playing D&D or something," said Jace.

"Excuse me, but I am one of his so-called 'nerdy friends,'" said Clary, a hint of anger in her voice.

"Exactly, Mrs. Shorty." He winked at her. Clary started to turn a red the shade of her hair.

"Um, so how's art going?" said Isabelle in an attempt to defuse the tension between the two glaring teenagers.

Clary immediately brightened. "Oh, it's great. The teacher said I should sign up for the school art competition, which I've obviously done. I've got a bunch of sketches prepared, and I put together an art portfolio. I was thinking of selecting a few of my best works and combining them to make some sort of mash-up thing. Speaking of which, I was thinking of working on a few of them today." She stood up. "See you tomorrow, Izzy," she said and clambered up the stairs. When she went into her room, she immediately plopped down at her desk.

She closed her eyes, searching for something to draw. An idea tugged at the back of her head. Her pencil moved across the paper in fluid strokes, slowly forming an image. The room was deadly quiet except for the sritch-stratch of the pencil against the paper. Finally, her pencil clattered to the desk. Clary stared, satisfied, at her finished drawing. An angel with pure white wings stood atop a building. She wasn't really sure what had exactly inspired it, but she liked what she saw. Shee still hadn't drawn the face or colored it in, though.

Clary, who was reaching for her pastels, suddenly felt an unbearable feeling of tiredness. With a sigh, she stripped into her PJs, brushed her teeth, and hurried off to bed, where she lay there dreaming about paintbrushes and pencils.


OK, I understand it if you thought that the story was uneventful, flat and generic, but instead of flaming, please give constructive feedback 'cause it really helps. If you like it (which I'm crossing my fingers for), then take a few minutes to drop a review and say you want me to continue. Favoriting and following don't hurt either. ;) I promise it will get better!

Anyways, I was going to publish this a LONG time ago but things just got busy so yeah. But seriously: IF YOU WANT ME TO CONTINUE REVIEW AND SAY SO 'CAUSE I WANT TO KNOW. AND ALSO REMEMBER YOU CAN REVIEW WITHOUT AN ACCOUNT SO PLEASE DO!

Until next time,

Marie E. Brooke