Clary hadn't been signed up for twitter, but thanks to Simon-who after seeing Jace's tweet-she now had an account. Isabelle had insisted she tweet Jace back something in reply, but she didn't quite know what, and had given up after five minutes. It was kind of ironic, really, Isabelle telling her to ignore Jace, and then telling her to tweet him back. Ignoring Jace seemed like the best option, for the time being, anyways.
Isabelle was curled up on the couch, shoveling Ben and Jerry's ice cream into her mouth greedily. It was quite the disturbing sight...if you weren't already used to it, which Clary unfortunately was. Simon was playing a video game, Isabelle studiously ignoring him, as she scrolled through twitter-again-letting out the occasional giggle or gasp. It was rather unsettling.
"Iz," Clary said, sitting down on the arm rest. "You're creeping me out."
Isabelle raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "Can you at least tell me what you're laughing about?" Clary prodded. Isabelle seemed to consider this, and shrugged. "I'm having a Twitter war with an idiot," she announced, as Simon shouted some profanities into his headpiece. "Idiot?" Clary asked. "That could be anyone. Including us," Isabelle seemed amused by the thought, before she tapped away violently on her phone screen. Her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. She sighed in content, at whatever she'd written, before she resumed the conversation. "Check your Twitter," she said.
Clary reluctantly reached into her jeans pocket, pulling out her phone. She swiped at it, tapping on the Twitter icon that appeared on her screen. She had at least fifteen notifications. She groaned. "Izzy, what did you do?" Isabelle's eyes twinkled in amused deviousness. Was that even a thing?
Clary clicked on one notification. Her face turned an very unnatural shade of red, as anger overtook her. "Isabelle!" She exclaimed. "Why would you bring me into this?!"
Apparently, the Twitter war was between Isabelle, Jace, and his-more than angry, and overly defensive-fans. "Sorry," Isabelle mused, looking over her manicured nails. But she already knew they were perfect. "I'll make you sorry," Clary said, her voice low. "Don't think about trying anything," Simon interjected, distractedly. He held up a single hand, as if that could end any fight between herself and Isabelle. "Fine," Clary said, cupping her elbows in her hands, and holding her arms close to her body. "I'm going out."
"Where?" Isabelle asked, again tapping away at her phone's screen. Clary hoped she tapped so hard that it shattered the screen. "To rob the bank, maybe some old ladies," Clary shrugged. "Bring your keys," Simon added, before Clary could leave. "I don't want to have to get out of bed to let you back in."
Clary rolled her eyes at him. "Glad to know you two care so much about me," she said, holding open the front door, allowing the somewhat cool night air inside. "Clary, you can't go out alone," Isabelle finally said, frowning, as she leaned over the back of their newly-purchased couch. "Iz, I'm an adult; I think I can handle myself."
Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Not when your that size," she muttered. "Pardon," Clary said, trying to get Isabelle to repeat the comment she'd just made about Clary's height. Isabelle snapped her head up, and gave Clary a sweet smile. "Nothing," Clary nodded. "That's what I thought."
LA was pretty at night, all the buildings lit up, and the noise that seemed so far away. It was almost like New York. Almost. They'd hadn't been in LA a week, and Clary was feeling longing for New York, the only place she'd ever called home. It made her happy, in a strange way, that she was starting her own life.
Clary found herself walking by the Staples Center, where there were screams, somewhat muted by the building. She could just see inside, where hundreds, upon hundreds of people were wearing black t-shirts, with someone printed on them, she couldn't quite make out who it was at this distance. But from the way girls were jumping up and down and screaming, Clary could only assume it was a guy, or a boy band of sorts. She shrugged, and walked further down the street, her back to the glowing red Staples Center sign.
She passed a few girls on the street, wearing the same black t-shirts, and Clary thought it was probably because the concert was just about over now, it had been almost twelve-thirty when she'd left the apartment. Concerts usually didn't go until one in the morning, as far as Clary knew. She did a double-take, making sure she saw correctly the first time. And, oh yes, she had.
It was none other than Jace Herondale.
In that moment, Clary decided to eliminate any memory of Jace from her mind; she was going to pretend he was just another stuck up, egotistical, arrogant, cocky celebrity she hated. Easy enough.
"I can't believe we just went to a Jace Herondale concert!" One of the girls squealed, and Clary fought the urge to roll her eyes. There was another squeal, and then silence. Puzzled, Clary turned her head to look at the girls. They were watching Clary with such intensity, she quickly turned her head back around, hurrying her pace. She was practically running, except she was still walking, her short legs trying to carry her quickly. It just wasn't working like she wanted it to. "Hey," one of the girls said, in a hushed tone. "Is that her-the girl from Jace's picture?" Clary screwed her eyes shut tightly, hoping it would make her disappear into thin air, like, poof! But, no, that only happened in books and movies, unfortunately for her. "I think so," the other girl replied, her voice equally hushed. "She's so much prettier in real life."
Clary wasn't sure if that was meant as a compliment, because there wasn't really a hint of hatred or disappointment in the girl's voice. Maybe some girls weren't so deluded by the idea that they would have a shot with the Rockstar. There was a quick click of a camera, so fast Clary thought she might have imagined it, but sure enough, when she turned her head back, there was another click, and the girls' heads were bent together, as they examined the pictures. Clary cursed under her breath.
"Clarissa Adele Fairchild!" Isabelle hollered, as soon as Clary had pulled open the door to their apartment. Clary squeezed her eyes shut tightly, and bit her lip, as she prepared for whatever Isabelle was angry about. She stood, a disapproving expression on her face, mixed with anger, her phone clutched in one of her hands-which were balled into fists, as they rested on her hips. She was clad in her silk, pink robe, and tight black under shirt. Her zebra-print shorts were barely visible under the robe.
"Shut up," Clary hissed. "Shut up, shut up! Don't wake up Simon."
Isabelle snorted, and rolled her eyes, her long, inky hair-which had been pulled up into a pony tail-swayed slightly. "Simon is about as hard to wake as a dead person."
Clary didn't reply; it was too true to even attempt an argument. "Well?" She finally asked, cupping her elbows in her hands. "Well? That's all you have to say for yourself?" Isabelle demanded. Clary looked up, from where he eyes rested on the floor. They really needed to sweep it, sometime. "What are you talking about?"
"What am I talking about?" Isabelle raised both eyebrows, her lips parted slightly. "You don't know?"
"Know, what?" Clary demanded, her voice sounding firmer than she'd expected. Isabelle sighed, and sat down on the couch. She patted the spot next to her, indicating Clary to sit. She did. Isabelle revealed her phone, which was open to Twitter. Big surprise. "Look," Isabelle said simply, as Clary took the phone from Isabelle's hands. Clary's eyes roamed the screen, seeing herself, looking backwards. Clary squinted at the screen, as she scrolled through the comments. All of them demanding to know who this "mystery redhead" was. Although, there was still the occasional, who the hell is that? She's so ugly. Clary didn't so much as flinch at the comments.
"You're the talk of the internet tonight," Isabelle smiled tiredly at Clary. Clary clicked off Isabelle's phone. "Enough Twitter for tonight," she said, standing up and extending a hand to Isabelle. She took it, and stood. "Let's get to bed, okay? We can talk in the morning."
Isabelle nodded, and padded down the hall, followed by Clary. "Night," Isabelle murmured sleepily, as her door swung closed. "Night, Izzy," Clary said softly, as she turned the knob on her own door.
Her bedroom was still empty, for the most part, lacking colourful walls, and pictures. But it would do, for tonight, anyways. Clary stood in front of her newly-hung mirror, and used a makeup-removing wipe, to get rid of her mascara, discarding the wipe into the trash can near her closet. She pulled her hair up into a pony tail, similar to Iz's, but not quite as nice-looking. She had small bits of frizz popping up, no doubt from the humidity. She sighed internally, not really caring. She was only going to bed, anyways.
Next thing Clary knew, she was laying down in her soft bed, pulling up the comforter under her neck, snuggling into her abyss of pillows. One thought ran through her mind, as she drifted further into the clutches of sleep; LA was a bad idea.
Short chapter, I know. Sorry, guys, but I'm just too tired to continue tonight. Expect some entertainment in the next chapter.
That's all I'm willing to give away, sorry.
Until next time.
