Here's a new chapter for you guys, hope you enjoy it!
Also, obvious things are not mine.
Clary ran until the house was out of view, then stopped for a few moments and waited for the severe dizziness to subside. The rain was quickly soaking through her coat, but there was no way Clary would turn back home so soon. But she was out in her neighbourhood which she was still entirely unfamiliar with, with no phone and no money. In desperation she checked her pockets - she found a crumpled five dollar bill. Clary found herself walking along the route her mother drove her to school and happened upon a coffee shop that was still open at six thirty on a Tuesday.
Clary entered the cafe, self consciously pushing her wet hair out of her face and wiping her shoes on the mat. The place was mostly empty, with a couple university students typing away on their laptops, a couple quietly talking in the corner of the small shop. The one person behind the counter, a girl who had more piercings than Clary had fingers looking at her over her magazine, unamused at being interrupted.
"Large black coffee, please," Clary said, putting the damp five dollar bill on the counter.
"Name?" the barista asked, despite the deadness of the cafe.
"Clarissa," she sighed.
Clary smiled and said thanks when the barista placed the coffee on the counter, but she just quickly retreated behind her magazine.
Clary took a seat facing away from the windows of the cafe - she would have loved to sit and watch the rain pound against the glass - but she didn't want her mother to find her if she was out looking, not yet. She sipped quietly at her coffee, while she started to experience the unpleasant side effects of the medicine she'd taken at dinner.
"Hello," someone said quietly while pulling out a chair at the table next to her. Clary jumped, almost spilling scalding coffee all over her hand. Diagonally from her sat a boy, not much older than her, with white blonde hair, and angular face and the darkest eyes Clary had ever seen. She wondered if they were contacts, but he seemed to be dressed too normally, at least, to be into that sort of thing.
A sharp, shooting pain shot through Clary's head when his eyes locked with hers at the same time the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. There was a nagging familiarity about those eyes of his and their cold, calculating stare. But Clary knew she would never forget a face like his.
"Are you okay?" he asked, the words lacking any air of concern as he looked at Clary, who had clutched at her head with the sudden ache.
"Yeah, I'm sorry - it's not you, I just haven't been feeling well lately," she explained, purposefully avoiding his gaze.
"I'm sorry to have bothered you - you looked troubled, and I've found that sometimes just a hello from a stranger can brighten your day," he said, his eyes intent on her as he took a sip of his coffee.
"It's fine really," Clary said, unsure of why this stranger was trying to drag out the conversation, creating more small talk than was really necessary.
"Got caught outside?" he asked, gesturing to her wet hair.
"Yes I did, I still haven't mastered the art of bringing my umbrella everywhere."
"Yes, the umbrella is a necessity in a place like this. Moved here recently, then?" he asked, his presence making Clary squirm. There was something unnatural, not right about him. She was just thankful for the presence of the other patrons around them.
"Yeah, around the end of November," Clary shrugged, not seeing why he seemed so interested in that.
"Ah, November. It's quite the month - nothing ever seems to go according to plan," he said.
"I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're talking about," Clary said, slowly pulling her cup closer towards herself, almost wanting to hide behind it, feeling like a mouse in the gaze of a snake.
"So it would seem," said the stranger, getting up from his seat, leaving his coffee, mostly untouched, on the table. "Have a good evening, Clarissa," he said, striding out of the store before Clary could ask how he knew her name.
Clary finished her coffee quickly after that, as it was getting cold. It sent her stomach churning as she got up to leave the cafe, pausing to throw her cup away - it was then she glanced her name on the side of the cup, barely legible. It didn't do much to ease the unsettled feeling in her stomach.
It was still pouring rain outside, and just as Clary exited the cafe a voice in the back of her head suggested that the creepy stranger might be waiting for her. Clary ran the three blocks to the townhouse, where every light was blazing, her mother sitting on the couch with the windows thrown wide open.
Clary's shoes squeaked as she closed the door behind her. She heard her mother clear her throat behind her, a sure sign that a lecture was about to begin, but Clary wasn't in the mood. Even the unsettled mood the stranger had instilled in her wasn't enough to dissipate any of the anger she felt towards her mother.
"Save it for tomorrow, mom," Clary spat, dripping as she climbed the stairs.
To her surprise, Jocelyn respected what Clary wanted - Clary wasn't disturbed for the rest of the night. She tried to focus on her French homework, but she could never keep the tenses straight in her head, and her mind wandered while she tried to complete the assigned readings. Eventually Clary just slammed her books shut - between her mother, the pounding her her head and the creepy stranger it was impossible to do anything that required her to concentrate.
Clary checked the door of her mother's room - closed, so she was probably in there, before creeping down the stairs as quietly as she could to check on the laundry she'd forgotten about. To her surprise, her mother had taken it out of the washer and had put it in the dryer for her, even folding the clothes and putting them in a neat pile on the counter. It was a sign of peace - Clary knew her mother hated laundry.
On her way back upstairs, Clary heard a muffled crying sound coming from her mother's room. As angry as she was, Clary couldn't stand to hide in her room while her mother cried.
"Mom?" Clary knocked a couple of times before pushing the door open. Her mother was curled up on her bed, staring at a photo that she quickly stashed away when Clary entered.
"Clarissa," Jocelyn said, wiping the tears away from her eyes in a fruitless attempt to hide her sorrow from Clary.
"I'm sorry that I walked out like that, but-"
"But I was wrong and you were right, I know how it goes. It's just, ever since the accident I've been so afraid of losing you, I've gotten used to having you around the whole time," Jocelyn said, her voice hoarse from crying.
"I'm scared sometimes too, mom, but I need to go out and live my life instead of spending all my time here, you have to understand that."
"It's just been hard," Jocelyn replied. And Clary knew - it hurt to see her mother so fragile, when she was usually so strong and sure of herself.
"You can't just make this bubble for me and expect me to never want to pop it," Clary said gently.
"You're right. Tomorrow after school, I'll get off of work on time for once and then we'll go and pick up whatever you need for soccer. If you're well enough to go running out of the house, I suppose you're well enough to run around a field after a ball."
Clary rushed over to her mother's bed and threw her arms around her.
"Thank you," Clary said again and again, hugging her mother tightly, in a way she hadn't since the accident. Jocelyn seemed a little dazed as she returned the hug.
"If I'm not mistaken - Grey's Anatomy is on right now - care to join me?" Jocelyn asked, shuffling over to make room for Clary on the bed.
"Of course," Clary said, settling herself down into the pillows. She was surprised by the offer - something like this hadn't happened since before the accident. Clary guessed her mom wanted to get her mind off of whatever had made her so sad, and Clary wasn't about to hurt her feelings again.
Clary was sitting in the hallway during her free block before lunch, when a group of girls from her grade walked past. They giggled and pointed, whispering the word "freak" loud enough for Clary to hear.
If Clary had been the same girl she was in New York, she would have stood up for herself. But the new Clary, determined to keep a low profile just continued staring at the textbook in front of her.
"Hey Stacey, your spray tan is running!" shouted Charlie from the end of the hall. Stacey dropped the books she was hold and ran off to the bathroom, her two friend picking up her books before they ran after her.
Clary smiled at Charlie as she walked to up her.
"No offense Clarissa, but I really don't like the people in your grade," Charlie said.
"I don't really like them either," Clary said, wishing her head wouldn't pound when she looked up at the fluorescent lights of the hallway. "But thanks for telling them off, but you really don't need to - I don't mind."
"Did you do anything to those girls that made you deserve being called a freak?" Charlie demanded.
"No," Clary said, unsure of where Charlie was going with this.
"So what you're saying is that it's alright for people to treat you like shit, even if you haven't done anything to deserve it. That's a miserable way to think of yourself, don't you think?"
Clary knew Charlie was right, but decided not to answer.
"Let's go out for coffee," Charlie offered after a slight awkward pause.
"Sure," Clary said, taking Charlie's hand as she got up off the floor.
Charlie drove them in her nice, new car to the nearest Starbucks, which was in walking distance, but Charlie had insisted on driving because of the pouring rain.
Once they were seated with their lattes, Charlie took a long look at Clary.
"What?" Clary asked, defensive, coming off as rude, although she didn't mean to. But Charlie was staring.
"There's just something about you - you never seem entirely pleasant," she said, her tone making it seem she was commenting on the weather as opposed to Clary's personality.
"There's some truth to that," Clary shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee.
"You don't want to reveal anything, do you?"
"It takes me a while to open up to people, I guess."
"You know that I want to be your friend, right Clarissa?"
"I'm sorry, I just find it hard sometimes," Clary trailed off, feeling guilty when she saw the genuine concern on Charlie's face.
"Here's a game I like to play - I tell you something about myself and you can tell me something about yourself. No questions," Charlie said, her gaze fierce on Clary, challenging her.
"Okay," Clary agreed reluctantly.
They started small, with likes a dislikes - the problem was, Clary had a pretty neutral feeling about everything. Charlie quickly caught onto this, and changed her facts accordingly.
"I hate how much pressure my parents put on me," she said.
"I hate how much my mother protects me," Clary replied.
"One bad case of food poisoning has permanently ruined french fries for me."
"I used to draw all the time, but I haven't in months," Clary said, the words surprising her as they came out of her mouth. Charlie took a sip of coffee as she fought the urge to ask Clary questions.
"My little brother died when I was seven," Charlie said in the same casual tone that she used earlier.
"Excuse me?" Clary was the first one to break the question rule.
But Charlie didn't seem to mind.
"Yeah, it's something I'm open about with people - I feel like once they find out about it, they see me differently, so I figured why not let everyone know that from the start. Also, my parents never want to talk about it, so I need someone to talk about it to - why not everyone?" Charlie said, her confidence wavering as she stared into her coffee cup. She looked back at Clary and was alarmed to see tears running down her face.
"Why are you crying?" Charlie asked, confusion knitting her eyebrows together.
"I don't know. I feel like I've gone through the same thing, but I haven't. It feels strange," Clary said, trying to take sip of her coffee, but she hands were shaking too badly to do so.
"But there's others who have died, haven't there?" Charlie asked. Her speech had inspired Clary to tell her, even if she didn't know her well - a deep, dark secret wasn't a deep dark secret if you told it to people from the get go.
"In August, I was in a car accident - my uncle Luke died, even though he wasn't actually my uncle. He was the closest person I had to a father. I was in a coma for three months afterward, during which my best friend caught the flu and died," Clary said and to her surprise she felt relieved, rather than anxious after sharing these things that had caused her so much pain in the past three months.
"I'm sorry," Charlie said, her brown eyes radiating sincerity. "You're not fully recovered from the accident, are you?"
"No," Clary admitted. "I feel weak sometimes, but most of the time it's a headache. Sometimes my hands shake, too," she said, showing Charlie her shaking hands.
"We shouldn't have forced you to be on the team, I don't think you-"
"No," Clary cut her off mid sentence, "I managed to get a yes out of my mom, which was a miracle in itself. Really, what I want is to be better," she insisted.
Charlie didn't argue with Clary, nor did she try and ask questions about Luke and Simon, which assured Clary that Charlie was someone she could see herself being friends with.
When Clary came home with Jocelyn that night, after they had gone out to buy Clary cleats, socks and shin guards, Clary's mood sharply contrasted with that of her mother's. Her lunchtime conversation and acquisition of soccer gear had made Clary happier than she had been in weeks. However, something seemed to be bugging her mother.
"Mom, did something happen today?" Clary asked as she cleaned the kitchen after dinner.
"Yes - one of 's assistants who was supposed to go to a conference with him in Toronto over the weekend can no longer go, and he wants me to go with him," she said with a sigh.
"Mom, isn't that a good thing, that he wants you to go?" Clary asked, confused as she scrubbed dishes in the sink.
"I'm just hesitant to leave you alone here in the house - you haven't been home alone since the accident, and I'd feel awful, leaving you here all alone for three days."
"Don't be - I have soccer games on Thursday and Friday anyways - I'm probably just going to be doing homework and sleeping for the rest of the weekend. I can take the bus home, although I think some of my team mates might be willing to give me a ride," Clary said, trying to provide the strongest case possible, that she was responsible enough to be left on her own. She didn't want her mother missing out on work opportunities just because of her.
"I could always get another job-"
"No mom, go, I'll be fine," Clary insisted. She looked up from the dishes to see her mother staring at her with an odd look in her eye.
"I just want to make sure you'll be okay here by yourself - are you sure you'll be fine and remember to take your meds on time?" she asked.
"Of course," Clary nodded. She never forgot to take the little pills her mother laid out for her everyday.
The next morning, Clary gave her mother a hug before getting out of the car, her soccer gear slung over her shoulder. Jocelyn's flight left late that afternoon, so Clary wouldn't see her after soccer. Clary had to sit in the car an extra five minutes as her mother told her things to remember over and over again.
Hehe... Clary's had some interesting chats over coffee, hasn't she? Let's not forget what happened the last time Jocelyn was away from Clary... Please review, it really does brighten my day. I'll update as soon as I can!