These fears come rushing in when I enter here
Another layer on my back
A blazing fire where our glances meet
The largest feeling towering over me
Faces in disguise, not a trace of desire

We're five. Her hair is in braids, two orange braids running down her back and bouncing with her every movement. I chase after her, trying to catch her. But she's so fast. I get so close, but can't reach out and touch her. My arms just aren't long enough. So I grab one of her flying braids, pulling her to a halt. "You're It!" I laugh triumphantly.

She turns to me, her face crumpling, and she bursts into tears. "That's not fair, Simon!" she cries.

What's not fair about it? I got her, didn't I? She's It. That's what you do in the game of tag. But I know she won't stop unless I say one thing. "I'm sorry, Clary," I tell her. Maybe I don't mean it, but I'm not done playing with her. I think she is the prettiest girl in the world, and I want to play with her forever.

She stops crying, wiping her eyes with her palms and her nose with the back of her hand. Finally, she smiles a little bit. "It's okay." Then her smile widens, and she reaches out and taps my shoulder. "You're It!" she calls, taking off running, and the game begins again.

I long to take you to a secret place
Where we could lay aside our past
We'd throw the world away with all its pain
To shine like stars through storm and clouds and rain
Faces in disguise, not a trace of desire

We're nine. It's the first day of fourth grade, and we're finally in the same class. I stop at her apartment before school so we can go together. "Hi, Simon!" her mom says when she opens the door. "How are you doing?"

"Hi, Mrs. Fray," I say, like I do every time. "I'm good."

She peeks out from behind her mom's leg and smiles at me brightly. She's wearing her brand-new purple and black canvas backpack that we picked out together. "Are you ready to go?" she asks me.

"Yeah," I say. "Let's go."

We walk side by side, chatting. She has Mrs. Ambrose, I have Mr. Drew. We'll get to have lunch and recess together, though. As we walk, her hand bumps into mine. "Oh, sorry," she says, smiling her sunny smile.

I suddenly feel the urge to take her hand, to hold onto it. It would feel right. But I don't. I say instead, "That's okay." And then our conversation picks up from where it had left off. Thinking of her hand in mine distracts me.

Go face the day, go and see new things
Go face the day, but you'll remember me

I see a tear inside when you're turned away
Another wound that I'd take back
If I could fill your heart just once and then
I'd take you now where we could live again
Faces in disguise, not a trace of desire

We're sixteen. I wake up alone in her room at the Institute, my head filled with dreams of her. These last days have been so bizarre, and I don't even know how I managed to get myself dragged into it. I just know I don't belong in this world, of Shadowhunters and demons and vampires, and that I've probably overstayed my welcome. Jace seems to think so anyway.

She isn't in her room like I might have expected she would be, so I pull myself out of her bed and open the door. Right to a view of perfect, blonde, handsome Jace kissing her. And she's kissing him back. Condescending asshole Jace kissing her, and her kissing him back. I feel like they've both kicked me in the stomach simulaneously, leaving me that much less time to gain my breath back.

As if sensing my sharp inhale, she pulls away from perfectly messed-up Jace and looks at me. So many emotions flicker across her face, but the one I catch before her face goes blank is guilt. Like she's been caught doing something wrong.

I open my mouth to speak, but I find my fury is blocking my throat, preventing any words from coming out.

Go face the day, go and see new things
Go face the day, but you'll remember me