Clary Fairchild sat slumped over, a book held high above her face and oversized glasses falling down barely keeping itself up at the tip of her nose. Her mind was only half on the book. From time to time, she quickly surveyed the throng of teenage students milling into the high school. She was waiting for her best friend, Isabelle, to walk into homeroom together.
"Clary!" she looked up and smiled at Izzy despite the frown on Izzy's face. "What in the world are you wearing now?" Izzy looked her up and down.
Clary could practically hear Izzy mentally ticking off all the things that were wrong with Clary's appearance. From her curly red hair messily gathered up and tied up in a bun atop her head to the oversized long sleeved denim shirt she grabbed out of the stack of clean clothes , not realizing it was her brother's until she stepped out the door, to the well worn ripped baggy jeans and cuffed green Converse sneakers on her feet. She had tried to explain to Izzy that she just didn't care but truthfully it went beyond that. It was more that she didn't want to be noticed. She wanted to fade into the background and the idea of being scrutinized by the teenage boys who always seemed to have nothing better to do than gape and laugh at the array of females before them filled her with horror. She didn't know how to explain this to Izzy without Izzy lecturing her about her apparent asexuality or possible lesbianism. It was always said jokingly but still she didn't need to hear Izzy's diatribe so she just stood good naturedly as Izzy pulled at her hair, tied up her shirt and rolled up her jeans to "do something about this mess." She could always undo it later and if it made Izzy feel better, it was worth it.
"I don't know how you can let yourself be seen in public like this," sighed Izzy giving her another once-over, tugging and pulling at her hair and clothing. "Remind me why we're friends?" she sighed shaking her head.
"Well, we do live across the street from each other," Clary recited, "we've known each other since kindergarten and I keep you occupied," she ended with a grin.
"There, that'll do," Izzy said decisively. "I wish you could lose those glasses."
Clary looked away guiltily. She didn't actually have a prescription. It was just another way to keep herself covered up but Izzy didn't need to know that.
"Now, how do I look?" Isabelle asked her as she twirled around with her arms open.
"Do you really have to ask?" Clary answered. "You look gorgeous, of course."
It was true. Isabelle was tall, almost six inches taller than Clary's five two inches and she had a killer body. She showed off her long legs in tight black jeans over black leather booties and a fitted blue shirt. Her long, shining black hair swayed perfectly behind her back.
"Where is that hottie brother of yours?" Izzy whispered into Clary's ear.
Clary rolled her eyes. "How would I know? I don't keep tabs on him," she huffed. She supposed she probably should know considering how oppressively over protective he was. In fact, he wholeheartedly approved of Clary's choice of misshapen, oversized clothing and did not question the glasses even though he knew she did not need them. Still, as much as she shied away from any attention, her brother, Jonathan, reveled in it. He was the most popular boy at Alicante High, the star football player, a Senior, and all the girls drooled over him. Unfortunately this included Izzy. Clary found this cringeworthy not just because he was her brother but also because they had also known each since they they were little kids.
Her brother would usually give her a ride to school but he had to get in early, earlier than she was willing to get up. He was eager to meet up with a new transfer. They met during football camp over the summer and he was convinced the combination of their skills would get them the State Championship this year. She supportively listened to her brother's plans, hoping he would finally achieve his dream. The team had actually gotten to the State Finals last year but fell short of the Championship win. As much as she sometimes felt suffocated by his watchful presence, she loved him and wanted him to be happy. They were unusually close or perhaps that was natural considering they had lost their parents at a young age. They clung to each other out of necessity and grew up under the care of their Aunt Hodge. Eliza Hodge was not an affectionate caretaker and she held a pronounced bias against men, good looking men to be exact. She had never gotten over a former husband she had divorced before they moved in with her. Clary guessed he must have swept her off her feet with his good looks and charm but Aunt Hodge had explained repeatedly to Clary that men could not be trusted with their hearts. He had been unfaithful and they had separated.
This prejudice in their Aunt Hodge was of course particularly difficult for Jonathan. His thick white-blonde hair, bright green eyes, a replica of her own, and an impressive physique built from many daily hours of training and workouts never failed to bring a scowl to Aunt Hodge's face until it seemed to be permanently fixed there. She did not favor him with any treats or "extras." But, he was resourceful and gainfully employed since he was ten. Clary often marveled at his tenacity and endless energy; that he had time for the constant football practice, his studies maintaining a straight A average and also put in the twenty hours each week for work. He had found the perfect job at a local gym so he had free membership and even convinced her to join (at a steep family discount of course). He thought she could at least use the self-defense classes and she had to admit those were fun along with the spin, cardio, step and strength building classes. She hid it well under the lumpy layers of clothing but she had built up a firm, well toned body over the course of two year of a steady fitness regime. Isabelle often joined her in one or two of the weekly classes but Clary made it a daily habit.
Isabelle sighed, "You've got a terrific body. I don't know why you insist on wasting it. Come on," she tugged on Clary's elbow and Clary followed Izzy into the school.
The first day of her Junior year was uneventful so far. It seemed she could pass through another year generally invisible to the masses. There were quite a few new students other than the Freshman. There were several transfers from St. Xavier's that had recently closed. They didn't seem to notice her either and that was just fine with her. But she couldn't help observing all the new faces. It felt like she was looking for someone. As strange as that seemed, she knew that had always been her way for as long as she could remember. She was always searching through a crowd of new faces, looking for something. But she had no idea what she was looking for.
She was on her way to lunch when she spotted her brother. She thought about sneaking up to him and giving him a playful shove, that was sort of their thing, but she realized he was in an animated conversation with someone. Someone who had his back turned to her but was obviously a member of the football team from his height and sturdy build. Someone Clary didn't know. She considered interrupting her brother's conversation anyway. She didn't know this person and she felt an urge to see who it was.
The loud sound of books dropping to the floor and scuffling feet drew her attention away. A boy was on the floor, searching for his glasses, a bewildered look on his face. He crawled around in front of a crowd of football players. Clary recognized Raphael Santiago among them, laughing at the unfortunate hapless boy on the ground. It was clear that the boy was practically blind without his glasses since he could not see they were just a few feet away from him. She watched Raphael glide down, pick up the glasses and taunt the boy.
"Looking for these?" asked Raphael as he twirled the steel rimmed glasses in his hand, laughing derisively.
"What? My glasses? Oh yeah, thanks," said the boy as he got up on his feet squinting around searching for the owner of the voice that spoke to him.
Raphael scooted back nimbly as the boy finally made his way over to him.
"Not so fast," Raphael moved sideways showing off some fancy footwork, completely unnecessary considering he was maneuvering against someone that moved like a blind man.
She had always liked Raphael. He was one of her brother's many friends or perhaps worshipper was more apt. Raphael had a slim, lean build but a wiry strength that propelled him down the football field with astonishing speed. He also had a very pretty face that Clary liked to draw. She had never known him to act the bully but there wasn't any other way to describe his assault on the poor boy. She felt a surge of pity and outrage at the injustice he was treated with. Why should he be treated this way for a disability? It was wrong. She didn't think as she rushed over, grabbed the glasses out of Raphael's raised hand and placed them in the boy's outstretched palm.
"Hey!" Raphael cried out. "I wasn't done with him," he complained.
"Yes, you were," she said firmly. "Are you okay?" she turned back to the boy who quickly put his glasses back on and blinked rapidly adjusting to his cleared sight.
He was not bad looking. In fact, he had a very agreeable face. Dark brown hair, his eyes a richer shade of brown, long dark lashes that she instantly envied. He was tall but skinny, dressed in patchy, worn jeans and a Warcraft gamer t-shirt. But the best thing about him was the open humor she detected on his face and when he smiled down at her something clicked. She knew he was a kindred spirit and they would be good friends.
"Not to worry," he told her jovially. "This kind of thing happens to me all the time."
She bent down to help him pick up the scattered books, papers and pens along the floor.
"I bet," sneered Raphael.
"You stay away from him," Clary stood up and glared at Raphael. He was shorter than most of the football players but still had several inches on Clary. She wasn't even slightly intimated even though he leaned over her, a haughty and challenging look on his face.
"He doesn't deserve to be treated this way. He's not a toy to play with," Clary stated with her hands were on her hips. She watched Raphael's eyes widen with surprise.
It was then that Clary realized a few things. First, she had an audience. She inwardly cringed knowing she had broken her own cardinal rule, to blend into the background, stay invisible. Secondly, a very tall, very muscular fellow was now standing at her side. She didn't turn to face him out but she could feel electric sparks flying off him. What the hell is that? She would have checked out this strange new creature that could have such an effect on her but she refused to move her eyes off Raphael and let him think she was backing off. Third, she was holding her own glasses in her right hand that was now planted on her hip. She must have taken them off to give Raphael the death glare but this was not something she ever intended to do and felt vaguely naked without them. Fourth, Jonathan was at her other side.
"What is going on, Clary?" he asked, his eyes darting between her, Raphael and the boy that she defended.
"Nothing, no big deal," Raphael answered turning to Jonathan but his eyes were still locked on Clary's. "I'm sorry, Clary," he said contritely. "I didn't know the geek was your friend."
He looked over at Jonathan, swallowed then turned back to Clary. "I'll see you later. I am sorry. Don't be angry," he gave her a weird smile. She wasn't sure what to make of it.
Clary watched Raphael with astonishment. She didn't think it would be so easy to get him to back off. She supposed it was Jonathan but she felt uncomfortable as his gaze seemed to grow more emphatic. "Well, you should really apologize to … to …"
"Simon. Simon Lewis," the boy proclaimed cheerfully. He had gathered up his things, stuffing them into his knapsack that slung over his shoulder and stood behind Raphael.
"Yeah, whatever," Raphael finally tore his eyes away from her and shoved past Simon.
"That's just rude," Clary hissed.
"Like I said," Simon shrugged. "Used to it. But I appreciate your help."
"And I can attest to that," said a low, lazy voice coming from the spark inducing stranger at her side. "I've seen Simon tripping over himself on many occasions."
Clary turned to the voice and was struck by the sight of him. So this was the person her brother had been conversing with. She could tell from his height and build along with the golden hair that curled slightly above his wide shoulders. He was completely breathtaking and she could feel her body's uncontrolled reaction to him. Her heart beat with a hammering pulse and there was a frantic flutter in her stomach. All of a sudden she wanted to be seen. She didn't want to hide anymore. She wanted him to see her and it was such a revolutionary and unfamiliar sensation she trembled. What was happening to her?
"Are you cold?" he asked her, a little crease forming between his brows, a slightly darker shade than his sunny golden blonde locks.
She wondered if he really cared or if he was making fun of her. She couldn't bear the notion that he was just teasing her but she couldn't move her eyes away from him. He had incredible eyes. The golden hues flecked with amber were completely mesmerizing. She imagined she could completely loser herself in them, spend hours trying to recreate those exact colors on canvas. She used all her willpower to stop shaking. She felt Jonathan's hands on her shoulders before she remembered he stood right next to them.
"Clary, is there something wrong?" he asked her and forcibly turned her to face him.
She shook her head in an attempt to clear her idiotic daze. "I'm fine, Jonathan. I wish you'd stop worrying."
Still, she rested her head against his chest. She needed a moment to stop, return to some semblance of normalcy. She could feel the two newly met boys around her take a step back as they watched her with Jonathan. She didn't know what compelled her then but she quickly lifted her head to face the golden god and told him, "He's my brother."
She watched as his face seemed to ease into a smirking grin and at that moment she found him absolutely obnoxious.
"Why are you smiling like that?" the words came out unbidden.
He looked a bit taken aback but promptly answered, "You know, you're a little spitfire. I like girls with spirit." The easy grin returned to his face and she could feel her blood boiling from what, she didn't know.
"What were you saying about Simon?" she suddenly asked him, a dawning sensation flooding over her. "Did you have a hand in him tripping over himself in one of those many occasions you witnessed?"
His eyes narrowed a bit and the easy smile faded. He was still more beautiful than he had any right to be but it was clear he did not like her line of questioning.
"Clary, what's gotten into you?" her brother asked her, his hands still on her shoulders. He looked thoroughly perplexed but took a moment to take the glasses out of her hand and fit them back on her face. "This is Jace. He's the new member of the Alicante Shadowriders. I told you about him." Jonathan gave her a warning look.
"Just to clear the air, Red," Jace spoke up. "I don't actually find it all that amusing to pick on clumsy nerds. Adorable, hotheaded little girls are much more my thing," he leaned against the wall with the sexiest lopsided grin she had ever seen.
It stirred something in her that she had never felt before. An almost painful want shot through her body. She gulped twice before she found her voice.
"Do not call me Red or a little girl. I'm sixteen," she informed Jace before turning away. "Come on, Simon. Let me escort you to the cafeteria." She grabbed Simon's arm and steadied herself against it as she pushed him in the right direction.
Between the two of them, they gracelessly stumbled away. She barely heard her brother tell Simon, "Watch yourself," before they were far enough away that she could breathe again.