Hi! Um, this is my first story here, so please, constructive reviews are much appreciated! Gosh, I'm nervous...
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own the Mortal Instruments. If I did, I would most likely not be writing fan fiction about them.
Four feet away, the small yellow bird was busy pecking industriously at a seed, occasionally pausing to ruffle its feathers, shockingly bright against dark green oak leaves. Clary held her breath, hand frozen in place on her paper, terrified that even the smallest movement would alert the animal to her presence and frighten it away. It was rare to see a bird that wasn't a ragged pigeon wandering around New York City. Slowly, slowly she tucked her pencil into her drawing pad and inched forward on the branch, reaching out with her free hand to steady herself as she carefully studied the scene before her, memorizing every last detail in order to set it down on paper later. The bird really was quite striking against the dark gray of the skyscrapers rising behind it, and already she was sketching it in her mind, tracing the graceful lines of its proud little head, attempting to capture its wild energy.
A twig snapped below and the bird was gone in a flash of yellow feathers.
"Simon," the girl sighed, turning to glare at the teenage boy who was standing stock still on the ground a few feet away, grimacing sheepishly. "Why are you so noisy?"
"Sorry, Clary, but we can't all be tiny redheaded Tarzans," Simon adjusted his glasses smugly, grinning at his joke until he noticed that the "Tarzan" had dropped out of the tree and was stalking him, getting ready to pounce.
"No, Clary! I didn't mean it! Really!" He frantically backed away, but it was no use. Simon was promptly tackled to the ground and held there by small but strong hands until he begged for mercy. Clary whacked him in the head a few times with her drawing pad, just to prove who was boss, then rolled off her best friend and helped him up, laughing at the leaves who had decided to make the boy's messy brown hair their new home.
"You barbarian, did you have to cover me in the dirt?" Simon complained, straightening his glasses and picking debris off his clothes, "People are going to think I escaped from the Bronx Zoo." Clary shrugged unashamedly as she reached up to brush leaves off his head, failing to notice when he turned away to hide a glowing red face.
"It's your own fault for lacking my superb ninja skills."
"Yeah, right."
"Shut up."
The friends playfully shoved each other as they left the park and walked to Clary's building only a few blocks away, laughing and arguing about anime and Simon's band's new name, the Golden Trousers.
"What does that even mean?" Clary snorted, "That you often wet your pants?"
"Because of the mind-blowing power of our music," Simon nodded in grim agreement, then chortled gleefully.
"Did you just chortle?"
When they reached her building, Simon stopped and swallowed nervously, trying to think brave thoughts. Come on, just say it, you wimp. He looked up and opened his mouth. Clary had paused on the first step to her apartment and was gazing at him expectantly with those soft green eyes. Why did they have to be so green?
"S-see you," Simon stuttered, then turned and practically ran down the sidewalk. Clary watched him nearly crash into a tourist, concerned and curious about whatever could have been making her friend behave so strangely lately, then turned to go inside, eagerly remembering that she had a bird to draw.
"For Christ's sake, could you get up off your lazy ass and actually help us unpack?"
Jace was lying on his new bed with his arms behind his head, scowling at the ceiling. He turned the scowl on his sister, who was standing with her own arms crossed angrily, glaring at him with a look that had transformed many a young man into a quivering pile of jelly. Jace snorted.
"Fine! Be that way!" She stomped off in her sequin mini skirt and pink kitten pumps, long black hair flying. Jace had no idea how she could haul moving boxes and furniture in that get up, but that was Isabelle for you.
Before he could return to burning a hole in his ceiling, Alec stuck his head in the door.
"Jace, was Isabelle bother-" He halted mid sentence, sensing the dark, moody aura his adopted brother was practically radiating.
"Come on, it won't be that bad. We'll get used to life here faster than you think." Leaning against the doorway, he nodded at the cleats in the open box beside Jace's bed. "Mom tells me this school has a great soccer team."
When his only response was a grunt, Alec sighed and left to rescue Max before he was crushed by a box of books much bigger than the skinny nine-year-old, still worried about his best friend's unhappiness. Jace hated change, especially after he found out he was adopted, and having to live in a new place and go to a new school really, really upset him. Alec just hoped they could get through the first day at their new school tomorrow without Jace physically assaulting someone. Or someone assaulting him. He groaned. It was gonna be a long day.
Jace, Alec, and Isabelle walked together to their new school the next morning after dropping Max off at Foxhurst Elementary. Jace lagged behind the black haired brother and sister, feeling more and more grumpy with every step he took. Just a few months ago he finds out his parents aren't even his parents and then, bam! Mom was transferred, so we're moving to New York City! Now he had to go to some crummy inner city school in a place with far too many people and noises and far too few trees, his only friends his siblings- his adopted siblings. Why couldn't they have stayed in Idris? With his friends, and his team, and the clear blue sky and countless tall trees, real trees, nothing like these sad little shrubs withering among the harsh gray of concrete.
He was growling at a pigeon that had inadvertently stumbled into his path when something flashed at the edge of his vision. Spinning to his right he glimpsed a small bird the color of sunshine take off from a dingy street sign and disappear around the corner ahead. A bizarre, almost desperate feeling rose in him, and without really knowing why, he took off after it.
"Shitshitshitshitshit," Clary muttered, stumbling out her building's front door and tripping clumsily down the steps, one sneaker untied, backpack in hand. School didn't start for another thirty minutes, but she had promised Simon yesterday she would meet him before class so that they could work together on a tough history assignment, and thanks to her crappy alarm clock, she was going to be late. As she began to sprint the three blocks to school, she yanked her cellphone out of her bag, nearly dropping it in the street in the process. She had begun to dial Simon's number, intending to call and tell him she was on the way, when a flutter of yellow caught her eye an instant before she skidded around a corner and crashed head first into a wall.