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Hi. My name is Clary Fray. I live in New York City with my mother Jocelyn and my best friend Simon. I don't believe in fairy tales.
It's just something I've come to accept. Dad believed, and where did that get him? Dead. Simon doesn't believe either. That's why he and I first started hanging out in fourth grade. He's sweet and probably one of the most down to earth people I've ever met.
He's with me right now, dropping me off at my apartment. His shoes are squeaky in the steps as he leads the way. I follow, trying to get my hair out of my face. It's kinky because it's rainy outside, and I feel like a witch. Too bad they don't exist.
The door opens, and my graceful, perfect mother opens the door. Her boyfriend of two years, Valentine, stands beside hr. His hair is such a white blond. I thought he was strange choice when they started dating, but now it makes sense. They look so sophisticated together, so haute. Sometimes I feel sorry for them, having a short girl with runaway red hair and a million freckles tag along with them everywhere. My mother takes a step forward and pats Simon on the shoulder.
"Thank you for walking her home, Simon. You know her I worry about her." He smiles at her, and turns around and walks past me, back down the stairs.
"Come in Clary. Valentine and I have to talk to you." She puts a hand on my back, and guides me inside and to an armchair. I start to feel nervous. My mother never needs to talk to me. She's always too busy going to plays or dinner parties. I slowly lower into the chair and look up at them. They're trying to look relatable and understanding. Trying to pretend that they're like me.
"Your mother and I are going away for a vacation for three weeks." Valentine says. I flinch. This is worse than I thought. I'll be coming home to an empty house, not allowed to go out, even with Simon, trying to pretend that I'm not a prisoner. I look terrified at them, silently begging them not to. "You won't be staying here though." My mother adds hopefully. "You'll be staying with some old friends of mine that actually live in the city. They've agreed to let you stay, so you'll be able to go to school still." They look at me, waiting for my response. I want to yell. I want to stand up and confront up and confront them. I want to tell them that I won't go stay with strangers.
I don't through. All I say it "Ok, when do I leave?" My mother smiles, and kneels down to look at me.
"Tomorrow"
……..
I sat in my room, folding cloths and putting them in my suitcase. I didn't have many. I sucked at shopping, and could never decide which piece to buy, what would suit me, and what size was just too baggy. Mom had said was going to take me shopping in February, but its July now, and she still hasn't gotten time to do it, so I've sort of stopped hoping. My suitcase isn't even close to full, but I close it, and sit down on my bed. The bedspread is a burnt orange. I got it for my thirteenth birthday, from my mother. That was two months before she met Valentine, and started dating him. The rest of my room in boring, except for my drawing, dominating the walls. There are still lives, and portraits, and almost everything to could think of. They're incredibly accurate, and realistic. They all look like photos. I don't love them. I feel like they're missing something, though I don't know what. I don't know had to find out.
I slide off the bed and onto the cold floor. I called Simon before I started packing, and he was angry on my behalf, and then I had to hang up and pack. Now, I push my suitcase into the corner, so it will stop reminding me of tomorrow, then pull my hair into a pony, and join Mom and Valentine, where dinner is being put on the table.
Mom looks up, and comes over to me.
"Clary, so it seems that we'll be leaving early tomorrow and we won't have time to drive you there. You'll take a cab, Ok?" She hands me a piece of paper with an address scrawled on it, and then gets distracted, discussing window seats with Valentine.
….
The next morning, I take my backpack and suitcase, and try to get them both down the stairs at once without injuring myself. I'm barely successful. When I get down, the car is almost packed, and valentine is bringing out the last bag. Mom puts her purse in the front seat, and seeing me, runs over, opening the door to the vestibule. 'Clary, dear, I'm glad you're finally down. Listen, I just realised that I need you to do me a favour, a huge favour, alright dear?" I nod. Obeying my mother is one of things I've just come to do.
"I need you to go to this address first, and give them this note." She hands me a second scrap of paper along with a folded piece of paper. "Don't look at the letter Clary. It's very private. Understand?" I just nod. My mother so rarely asks me to do anything than come home on time, so doing this doesn't seem like much of a task. She squeezes my hand, and runs back out to where Valentine has started the car, her heels clacking on the asphalt.
Once our car disappears, I grab my things, and head out onto the street to flag a taxi.
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