~~~Chapter 6~~~

There she had to do hard work from morning until evening, get up before daybreak, carry water, make the fires, cook, and wash.

Clary was glad when the week finally ended.

She spent a lot of the weekend cleaning up the house, and Camille made her a list of a pile of materials for her shop, which took Clary all Saturday to buy.

On Sunday, Clary carefully traced out her design for the school ball artwork on black fabric, and decided to walk down to the art shop to buy some more supplies. She needed some sequins, some paint, and a lot of feathers.

But when Clary arrived at the art shop, she was horrified to see a fat for sale sign on the shop window. Clary peered inside, but the shop was half cleared out and empty. She'd been going to this place for as long as she could remember, often not because she needed to buy anything, but just to look at all the supplies and dream.

Clary huffed and set off down the road to find somewhere else. Brooklyn was its usual self today, busy, messy and loud. Cars honked and people yelled and lights flashed.

Clary stopped in front of a little shop, old and half hidden between buildings. G & F Books and Art, it read on a peeling sign. Clary looked through the window and smiled as she saw the bright shelves of pencils and paint.

She stepped inside and breathed in the smell of paper and paints with a sigh. The back walls were lined with books, but there were shelves and shelves of art supplies too. Clary found what she needed and went over to the counter, fumbling for her wallet.

A man came out from the back room and stopped short when he saw her. He was tall and dark, his glasses perched crookedly in his messy hair.

Clary put her items on the counter. "Um…"

He snapped out of his reverie and hurried over. "Just these today, miss?"

"Yes, thank you."

He blinked as she spoke and stared at her again. Clary was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable. "What is it?" she asked.

He shook his head, embarrassed, and put her items in a bag. "I'm sorry, you just look a bit like… someone I know. That's all."

Clary took the bag, payed, and hurried out of the shop. She was glad to put some space between her and that guy, who did seem nice enough, but creeped her out slightly. She'd never met him before. She wondered who he knew that looked like her.

Next, Clary went to the supermarket to buy something for dinner. She dumped everything in a trolley and payed for it with the allowance Camille gave her - to be used only to buy food, of course.

Clary shoved everything into shopping bags and was just about to walk back home when -

"Clary, is that you?"

Clary sighed, turning round. Was everyone going to recognise her today?

Isabelle was standing in the paying line, holding a bag of sugar and a packet of chocolate chips. Beside her, looking bored, were Alec and Jace.

"Um… hi?" Clary said.

Isabelle looked delighted. "You'll be able to help us! I'm going to make chocolate chip cookies - "

"She's going to try to make chocolate chip cookies." Alec interrupted.

"Her last attempt, we nearly had to call the fire brigade." Jace added.

"Oh shut up. They weren't that burnt," Isabelle said, undeterred.

Clary blinked.

"Anyway, Clary. Can you come and help me?" Isabelle asked. "These two usually spend the whole time eating the chocolate chips and making rude comments about my cooking abilities."

"Honesty is the best policy." Jace smirked.

"Um… I'm not sure if I can - " Clary began.

"Course you can come!" Isabelle said, grabbing Clary's arm before she could get away. "Don't be stupid."

And that was how, much to her surprise, Clary found herself crammed in the back of Alec's car with Isabelle and Jace, talking about chocolate chip cookies. At least, Isabelle talked about chocolate chip cookies. Clary spent most of the trip trying not to bash into Jace when Alec went round corners.

The Lightwoods' house was big. Actually, it was huge. Modern, flashy and expensive. Alec parked carefully in front of the house and they all clambered out of the car, Clary still clutching her shopping bags.

The house was different on the inside. More… lived in. The walls were decorated with pictures, photos of Isabelle, Alec and sometimes Jace as toddlers, and artworks they had done. The kitchen was bright and big, cluttered with utensils. Isabelle dumped her ingredients on the bench and turned to Clary. "Right. Let's make cookies."

Clary had spent a lot of her life cleaning up after and baking for her step-sisters and mother, and if there was one thing she was confident about, it was making chocolate chip cookies.

Clary ordered Jace to beat the butter, and Alec to crack the eggs. She stopped Isabelle just before the whole bottle of vanilla was poured into the mixture.

About half the chocolate chips had mysteriously disappeared by the time Clary added them to the mix, but Alec, Isabelle and Jace all flashed her innocent smiles.

They crowded round the bench together, rolling out the doughy mixture, and shoving each other with their elbows. Isabelle was sprinkled with flour, and both Alec and Jace had chocolate smears on their faces.

Clary was surprised to realise that she was actually having fun as they finally stuffed the cookies in the oven.

Isabelle enveloped her in a hug. "You are amazing thanks so much!" she said happily, getting flour in Clary's hair.

Isabelle wasn't that bad after all, Clary decided.


Just before the cookies were out of the oven, Magnus mysteriously appeared, claiming he had smelt the chocolate from a mile away.

"Alec, you texted him, didn't you?" Jace said, rounding on Alec. "Traitor! Now there's less cookies for us!"

Alec went red. "I don't know what you're talking about."

But the cookies did indeed smell heavenly as they took them out of the oven. Buttery, tinged with the scent of melted chocolate.

"They look amazing!" Isabelle clapped her hands.

Jace reached for one but Clary slapped his hand away. "Wait for them to cool down, or you'll burn yourself, idiot."

It was torture waiting for the cookies to cool, but they distracted themselves by setting up the table with fancy cloths and cutlery.

"We'll have a proper high tea." Isabelle decided. "Clary, why don't you text Simon? He can come over too."

"Who's Simon?" Jace asked.

Both Clary and Isabelle glared at him.

Simon came around just as they were setting out the cookies on a platter. He looked around in surprise and then at Clary, who shrugged as if to say I have no idea how I got here.

The cookies… were delicious.

Afterwards, Clary and Jace got voted for washing up duty.

"I'll wash, you dry." Clary said, turning on the taps in the sink and adding detergent.

Jace grabbed a towel. "So." he said conversationally. "Bet you never thought you'd be washing dishes with me, miss high-and-mighty."

Clary ignored him.

"I mean, one day you're dumping paint over my head, the next you're eating cookies with me." Jace continued, grinning.

Clary ignored him.

"I shouldn't be surprised." Jace said, stacking up the washed plates. "My charm attracts everyone. Even the most hard-hearted come round eventually."

Clary looked over at him with raised eyebrows. "Oh yes?"

Jace smirked at her. "See? It only took me a week to win you over."

Clary splashed him with the dishcloth.

Isabelle smirked behind them. "Ah, young love."


And so, strangely enough, Clary found herself talking to the Lightwoods more and more, and going over to their house strangely often.

She couldn't quite understand why they were suddenly being so nice, only that Isabelle was convinced that Clary was the next Master Chef, and teasing Clary was Jace's favourite pastime.

Clary found that she didn't hate them all quite as much any more.

She didn't hate them at all, if she was being honest.

The other person Clary had made fast friends with was the stranger she'd been texting. She talked to them mainly just before midnight, before Camille got home.

Clary found herself telling the stranger nearly everything about her life, and she was kind of worried. Brooklyn High had done many lessons about cyber-safety before.

So when the stranger finally asked Clary her name, she remembered one of the tips they'd been given at school. Never give your name. Not your first name, not your full name. Your middle name can be a good alias.

So Clary had told the stranger her name was Adele. It wasn't technically a lie, her full name was Clarissa Adele Fray. But no one knew her middle name, apart from her stepmother and Simon.

Adele's a pretty name, the stranger had replied. Nice to meet you, Adele. My name is Christopher.

You're a boy? she had typed.

Last time I checked, yes, was the answer.

Clary had blushed. She found out that Christopher also lived in New York.

Whereabouts? she asked. Maybe I can come meet you some day.

Brooklyn, he had replied, the classiest place in town.

So Christopher was somewhere nearby, also looking at his phone. She could have passed him on the street before and never guessed.

The idea that they were so close made him seem a lot more real.

But Clary didn't have much time to think about Christopher. Camille was keeping her extra busy, forcing her to help out in the shop and restock on makeup supplies almost every day.

And then of course, Clary was busy with her project. She had sewn in all the feathers in the shape of huge wings, and had painted the angel as a girl, looking back over her shoulder. The girl was made of rough, bold paint strokes, white lines and splatters.

Clary spent hours sewing on the sequins and beads and lace and ribbons, making the angel's dress, and the glitter and clouds around her. The fabric was black, but it was shimmering with light the more Clary added to it.

She'd had to go back to the art shop for supplies only once, and it had been an as strange as before. This time, instead of the man at the counter, it had been a woman. Clary had done a double take when she'd seen her.

The woman had long red hair - as fiery as Clary's own. Her eyes were the same piercing green. Clary and the lady had stared at each other for a moment, before Clary had pulled herself together. There were plenty of people with red hair and green eyes, it wasn't that much of a coincidence.

Luckily, Isabelle - who had also been shopping with Clary - dragged her away before the woman said anything to Clary, although she had the suspicion that the woman had watched her the whole way out of the shop.

But Clary quickly put that out of her mind.

For the actual ball, which drew ever closer, Clary hadn't bought a dress. She already had the perfect one.

Under Clary's bed was a trunk, full of her mother's things. Useless, faded things, mostly, but Clary treasured them. There were yellowed pages of rough sketches, and ripped paintings. There were some old shirts and dried paints, and brushes speckled with colour. There was a coffee mug, a few necklaces, a torn photo. There wasn't much else.

But right at the bottom was her mother's dress.

It perhaps wasn't perfect for a ball, being black in colour, but Clary loved it.

It fit her perfectly, hugging her chest, but then sweeping out below her hips in floaty waves like the ocean at night. The black brought out the green of Clary's eyes even more, and made her look older. The gown swished past her ankles, so she walked like she was floating.

There was only one problem, which was Clary didn't have shoes.

The only pair she owned, really, were the sneakers she was wearing now. Red, dirty, faded, and covered with little sharpie drawings she had doodled over them. The left sneaker was peeling.

Definitely ball worthy material, Clary thought with a sigh.


So the ball draws ever closer... hope you liked this chapter, and please leave a review!