Greetings to you all! First off, I just want to quickly say thank you to madelynrichardss! She gave me the idea for the first impression of your partner question in the last chapter but I was a noob and completely forgot to credit her so sorry, and thanks!
Next up, iuybruyghfxgdetrdecutrs I checked the traffic for this story and I cannot believe how many people are reading this from all over the world. Shout out to my readers in Guam. I didn't even know Guam existed so WOW. The hilarious thing though is that I have no readers from Switzerland...who knows, maybe it's a good thing! It's weird, I was never even particularly interested in Switzerland before I started writing this fic (my obsession lies with Germany - was los!?) but now I freak out a little every time something Swiss-related is mentioned. Help, I'm turning into Valentine! So yeah, if my stats are lying and there is someone Swiss or even partly Swiss out there, say hi!
Disclaimer: I do not own TMI or any of its characters. Or any Swiss readers apparently -sobs-
Chapter 8: Trying to ward off Jonathan
You know those times when you can just sense that a situation is about to spiral out of your control? It's as if everything is moving in slow motion and you have this feeling that something is going to happen, something big, but you're powerless to do anything about it. You're not completely sure exactly what's about to unfold, but you can just see the looks on the faces of the people around you and even though you desperately try to stop yourself from talking, the words keep spilling out; but then as soon as you manage to stop yourself, it's always too late. Much too late. The damage has been done. Your words have been spouted out into the universe, irretrievable and unforgettable. And then comes the inevitable aftermath.
Well, this is how I feel on Thursday evening when I stand between the two guys on my front porch. The boy to my right crosses his arms, a smug smile slowly forming on his face. Clearly what I said has pleased him, though if he knew the truth of my intentions, he probably wouldn't be so happy right now. The boy to my left is a whole different story. His features, normally so indifferent, are contorted with pain. He clenches and unclenches his jaw, struggling to contain himself. And me? I just want to disappear. Though I could also really do with a coat right now.
Earlier that day…
The tension between Jace and myself has considerably lessened since our little bonding session last night, so I have no qualms with sitting next to him in English Lit again on Thursday morning. I've had to change some of his answers a bit just in case Mr Aldertree decides to check that we did our homework, which, considering how creepy he is, seems pretty likely.
Predictably enough, the first thing Mr Aldertree does when he enters the classroom is demand to see Jace's work and mine. I hand edited sheet over to him reluctantly. He 'hmm's and 'aah's a bit as he scans what I've written, pausing every so often to squint at Jace over his spectacles. Jace just grins toothily in response.
"Well," he coughs. "I don't know what you two were making such a fuss about yesterday. You seem to have worked together just fine."
"Yes, sir," I nod. "It turned out that Jace was particularly good when it came to talking about himself. Trying to get him to shut up was the issue."
"Not for your father it wasn't…" Jace mumbles so quietly that only I can hear. I glance at him sideways.
"Quite," Mr Aldertree sniffs. "Good work, anyway. This will help you in today's class." Then he raises his voice so the rest of the class can hear. "Today we are going to be focussing on how to create an interesting and varied plot. You will be conducting a short exercise using prompt words from the homework you completed last night, to form a short story together. The first of the pair will pick any word or phrase from either of your answers and write it down, then the second will continue the story from there, writing just one sentence. In this way, you will both alternate writing sentences, thereby completing the story together. Your sentences can be as long or as short as you like, as long as you add at least one word when it is your turn. Mr Starkweather from the History department gave me this idea, and I think it will be an excellent way of utilising your imaginations and teaching you the importance of being pragmatic when writing a story. It can be useful to have a set plan beforehand, but you need to be prepared for whenever the plot doesn't work quite the way you want it to, so you have to learn to adapt around it. I've provided you all with paper, so as soon as you're all ready, you may begin."
Jace gathers a few sheets of paper from the end of the table and drops them between us, a sly smirk on his face. Oh crap. I've played games similar to this with Simon and Isabelle in the past and they've always ended up being either extremely disturbing or downright hilarious. I have a feeling though that Jace is going to be making this as hard as he possibly can for me.
"You can go first," he offers oh-so-graciously.
"You're too kind," I take my time finding a pen from my pencil case, before picking my prompt word. I decide on 'badger'. There's not much he can do to ruin that one.
I write the words 'The badger,' on the sheet, indicating for Jace to continue. He chooses the words, 'was deep in contemplation over the segregation in society.' His handwriting is so much neater than mine it's almost embarrassing, though it doesn't compare to the embarrassment I'd experience if anyone asked to see our finished piece, because five minutes later, our story goes something like this:
The badger was deep in contemplation over the segregation in society. He just couldn't understand why he wasn't allowed to wear frilly underwear in public. His friends had no idea that this was in fact his desire and often questioned his sexuality, though they had absolutely no need to because he was perfectly straight. Or so he thought. No really, all of the female badgers were completely attracted to him. But that wasn't the question, was it? He had no idea what they were talking about. Whether other female badgers were attracted to him had no bearing on his own sexuality. So you admit other female badgers are attracted to me? Since when did this become a first-person story? I feel weird speaking in third person. Okay, since when did you become a badger? Since last night, apparently. Really? Yes. How strange, maybe you should see a doctor?
You can see why Jace and I shouldn't really be allowed to work together. The rest of the lesson proceeds in a similar fashion, with each story somehow ending up being about Jace, despite how varied the prompt words are. By the time we leave class, I find myself seriously doubting whether he's ever had a single thought about anyone other than himself. Luckily, my lunchtime meet-up with Simon and Isabelle helps to clear my brain of Jace, though also fills it with undeniable panic.
"Hey, Clary?" Isabelle says as I take a seat at our usual table. She's gazing into her pocket mirror, running her fingers through her hair. Simon sits opposite her, surreptitiously glancing at her between bites of his sandwich.
"Yes, Izzy?"
"Do you think I should dye my hair blonde?"
Simon almost spits his sandwich out. "Wha-what!? Why would you do that?" He splutters.
"I don't know," she shrugs, moving the mirror closer. "I just feel like maybe it's time for a change. I've had black hair for my entire life, people might get bored."
"Isabelle, are you actually serious?" I stare at her wide-eyed. I have a niggling feeling that I know exactly what this is about, but I can't bring myself to admit it. "Black is your natural hair colour. And besides, since when have you cared what other people think about?"
"I don't," she insists. I just care what Jonathan thinks, I finish her sentence in my head. "I just care what Jonathan thinks." Wow. Okay, so I wasn't expecting her to actually say it. Simon looks like someone just put a stake through his heart.
"Look, Isabelle," I say softly, trying to reason with her. "If you really want Jonathan to notice you, dying your hair blonde isn't the way to do it. He prefers black hair, trust me. If it weren't for my father, his hair would permanently be black."
"But your dad likes blonde hair, right?"
"I'm going to be sick," Simon gasps. True enough, his face actually is turning a little green.
"Not in that way," Isabelle giggles, patting Simon on the head. "Silly Simon. I mean, he would be more likely to accept me if I were blonde, right?"
"The only thing that would make him more likely to accept you, is if you were Swiss."
"Swiss? What's Switzerland got to do with anything?"
"My dad's family is Swiss."
"But I thought you guys were German?"
"We're from the German-speaking part of…okay, this is completely irrelevant," I stop myself. "My point is, impressing my father isn't going to make Jonathan like you any more. If anything, it'll put him off. Jon's a rebel, he loves pissing Valentine off."
"Yeah, I know," Isabelle sighs dreamily. Simon's sickness must be contagious because I suddenly have an urge to vomit as well. "Simon, you're a guy, right?"
"Thanks for noticing," Simon grumbles, glaring at the rest of his uneaten lunch.
"What do you think would make me look more attractive to you?"
"What?" Simon looks taken aback.
"Iz, maybe you shouldn't…" I say, but she ignores me.
"Hypothetically, if I were trying to get your attention, what would I have to do?" She seems completely oblivious to the discomfort he's in.
"Nothing, Isabelle." He gets up abruptly. "There's nothing you can do." He grabs his lunch off the table and stalks off back towards the main school building, leaving the two of us in silence.
"What's his problem?" Isabelle looks a little offended.
"Who knows? It's probably because his mother wouldn't let him pre-order the PS4," I lie. She lets it go then and starts to ramble on about the latest town scandals, as I have my own internal conflict. As she moves on to the topic of the last thing Seelie Queen was caught doing, I make my mind up. I love my brother – eww I can't believe I just thought that – but I also love Simon. If Jonathan is his problem, it's up to me to fix it.
I sigh in relief as I walk to the car after school, noticing that Jonathan is alone. It would've been much harder to have a serious conversation with him if the rest of the guys were around. As soon as he sees me, he sits in the driver's seat and begins to rev the engine.
"Aren't you going to wait for the others?" I say, getting in on the passenger's side.
"They're coming a little later," Jonathan explains. "Mr Mortmain gave Jace detention for mouthing off about how one of his inventions wouldn't work in Physics, so he's stuck here until five."
"But that's just Jace, what about the others?"
"Isabelle had some kind of last minute drama meeting again so since they're both coming over later, Alec also decided to stay behind and catch up with some work in the library with Jordan. Magnus is going to pick them all up on his way back to work and bring them over. So it's just you and me, Sis. And Sebastian, obviously, but he takes forever to cycle so he might as well be coming at the same time as them."
"Has his aunt still not let up on that?" I snicker as Jonathan pulls out of the school car park, spotting Sebastian on his bike behind us, struggling to keep up. Within about thirty seconds he's disappeared from my view completely. Poor kid. "I mean, how would she know the difference?"
"Apparently she can smell the petrol on him every time he gets a lift, so he's just given up now."
"Smell the petrol!? How does she do that?" I ask in disbelief.
"Who knows?" Jonathan shrugs.
"She's French." We both say together, then burst out laughing. Once our hysteria has died down, we fall into a comfortable silence, until I remember exactly why I was so eager to talk to him today. Moments like this are so hard to achieve with my brother that I almost don't say anything at all. But then I remember the look on Simon's face as he walked away from Isabelle today and I know it must be done.
"Hey, Jonathan?"
"Who else is in this car?" He scoffs. I ignore him.
"What's going on with you and Isabelle?"
"What makes you think there's something going on?" His features betray no emotion, so I can't tell if he's deliberately trying to hide something from me, or if he's just indifferent. So little seems to be of any import to him these days, except for the band of course, that the latter is likely enough.
"For one, you invited her to band practice tonight."
"Actually, she invited herself." This doesn't surprise me. "I mentioned we practice every night and she wanted to come see us play."
"And you agreed?"
"Well, why not? I think it's cool when people take an interest in Mallard Massacre, so if they want to see us practice, why would I have a problem with that? It's not my fault that some people…" he looks pointedly at me, "…are less interested than others."
"So there's nothing going on?"
"Not as far as I know. Why do you care anyway?"
"Well…you know…I'm just looking out for you…" Great thinking, Clary. He's completely going to believe that.
"Looking out for me?" He barks out a laugh.
"Isabelle isn't exactly a long-term relationship type of girl…I don't want you to get hurt." You're on a roll here, girl. Keep digging the hole. Just keep digging.
"Well, I'm not exactly looking for a long-term relationship so…"
"She's just using you!" I blurt out. "Yeah, she's using you to make someone else jealous."
"Who?" His voice drops an octave. Is that the other side of the world I can see?
"Errm…Simon?"
"Lewis!?"
"The one and only…" I look out the window so I don't have to face him.
"She's using me to make Simon Lewis jealous?"
"Yes!" I say, indignantly this time. What's wrong with Simon? "He's an intelligent, funny, caring guy."
"Are you sure you're not the one who fancies him?"
"Yes…" I roll my eyes. I actually fancy your bes-no one. I fancy no one. Apart from famous people and fictional characters. Otherwise, no one.
"Fine," he groans. "Any girl who would rather be with Lewis isn't worth my time anyway. She can have him without my help. Taking a picture with a Star Wars figurine would probably be enough to make him jealous."
"Thank you," I sigh. My work here is done. Though I resent the figurine comment. She'd have to at least take a picture with someone in Han Solo cosplay or something. Simon is not that easy.
Deciding I might as well try to finish all my work before the band-based racket begins, I start on my homework as soon as we reach the house. I'm halfway through sketching some Swiss scenery – I can't just offer up that badly painted flag again in future crises – when my phone starts to beep. It's a text from Meliorn. Damn, I completely forgot I'd texted him yesterday before working with Jace.
It reads:
Hey, Clary! I'm so glad you got back to me, I was a little worried that protective brother of yours wouldn't let you out of his sight long enough to text! Anyway, I'm in the area and I was wondering if you wanted to come out for a coffee? Let me know!
Melly xx
Melly!? That's my first thought. The second thought on my mind is, 'how the hell does he know where I live?' until I remember whose sister I really am. To be honest, all you have to do is ask anyone within a five-mile radius where the house is with the band that sounds like donkeys and they'll tell you. Okay, so only I call it the band that sounds like donkeys, but my point is, they have a reputation. I try to figure out a way to let him down gently, but then I hear one of the doors slam downstairs and the distorted feedback of amps being turned on. The band is here.
Then suddenly, they begin to play and my decision is made. I'd much rather go out for a coffee than be subjected to this for the next couple of hours. Besides, how awful could it really be? It's not like he's asking me to see a film or anything. It's coffee. Coffee is good. I like coffee. I text him back saying I'll come, and he replies within seconds saying he's just down the road. Right. So that's a little creepy, but he did say he was in the area. I decide I look decent enough in what I'm already wearing, so I grab my purse and make my way downstairs just as the doorbell rings.
Smoothing out my top, I take a second to breathe. It just occurs to me that I've never really been on a date before. But it's not a date, I remind myself. Just coffee with a friend who is not really my friend. I place my hand on the door handle and fling it open so I don't have time to think about what I'm doing.
"That was quick," I remark, walking straight into Meliorn's chest. "Sorry," I take a step back and crane my head up to look at him. Unless Meliorn's hair isn't naturally straight and he's recently cut it, I'm pretty sure that's not Meliorn. Maybe-not-Meliorn reaches inside the door to turn on the floodlight. I squint as the porch lights up. Definitely not Meliorn. Jace.
"Hey there, Midge," Jace grins. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"
"I was err…I thought you were already inside?" I try to hide my purse behind my back. I don't know why, but for some reason I really don't want him to know where I'm going.
"Yeah, I forgot my guitar tuner and Jonathan won't let me touch his," Jace rolls his eyes. "The door shut behind me though."
"Oh right, I see." I look down, hoping he won't notice the mobile vibrating in my hand. "You better come in then," I move aside to let him in but a voice stops him in his tracks.
"Clary! There you are!" Meliorn leaps up the stairs to the porch, noticing Jace at the last moment.
"Meliorn?" Jace asks, confused. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm here for Clary," he smiles, gesturing for me to come outside. I take my chance while Jace is still frozen to squeeze past him, shivering a little as the cold evening air hits me.
"Wait," Jace reaches out to grab my arm. "This is what you were doing? You were going out to meet him!?"
"We're just going for a coffee, that's all," I try to brush Jace off but he grips me tighter.
"You can have a coffee inside!"
"With you guys screaming away in the next room? I think I'll pass." Again, I try to move but he holds me back.
"Hey man, relax!" Meliorn steps closer, palms outward. "I'll take good care of your sister, I promise. We're only going to the café down the road."
"My sister?" Jace blanks for a second before he remembers the night of the contest, where he'd claimed to be my brother when 'saving' me from Meliorn. "She's not my sister."
"She's not?" Now it's Meliorn's turn to look confused.
"Look, I don't want you going out with him," Jace says to me between gritted teeth.
"It'll be fine, Jace!" I try to reassure him, but I can't keep the anger out of my voice. "I'll be back soon."
"Let me rephrase that," Jace breathes heavily, releasing white puffs in the freezing air. He looks a bit like a fuming dragon, smoke pouring out everywhere. "You're not going out with him."
"I'm not?" That's the last straw. "Who the hell are you to tell me what I can and can't do?!" I push him off roughly and he lets go in surprise. "You don't own me, Jace! For goodness' sakes, you don't even like me! You've only put up with me all these years because I'm Jonathan's sister…"
"Ohh you're Jonathan's sister!" Meliorn says.
"Not now, Meliorn!" I glare at him, before turning back to Jace. It seems that the shock of being rejected by me has worn off and now anger has taken its place. "Like I said, you've only put up with me because of Jonathan and Jonathan is also the only reason I've put up with you!" I let all the frustration that I've accumulated towards him over the years pour out in the space of a couple of minutes as I continue to yell at him. "You never think about anyone but yourself and you know what? I've had enough. I've had enough of pretending I get on with you because the reality is, I can't stand being around you! You're irritating and annoying and you piss me off so much. Every time I finally think we can get along, you just mess it up and ruin everything and I don't want to do it anymore! I hate you, Jace! I hate you!"
I struggle to catch my breath as my outburst comes to a finish. I don't even know where half of that came from. It's true that I've been frustrated with him for the last couple of days, though I have other theories as to why that might be. I know I don't hate him. I don't. It was just in the heat of the moment that I said that, but as I look up at his face, I realise it's too late. I open my mouth to apologise but I know that nothing I say will make him forget those last few words.
His expression is heart-breaking, not so unlike Simon's face earlier. There's no anger there anymore, just pain. But he covers it up straight away, donning a stony mask. Meliorn, on the other hand, is smiling slightly.
"Jace, I didn't…" I decide to try to apologise anyway but he ignores me.
"Go." He says, his voice cold. Then he turns away, shutting the front door, leaving me alone with Meliorn.
"So…" Meliorn says after a minute or so. "Coffee?"
Muhahaha...sorry that was a little more angsty than I'm used to. It all has a reason though, I promise, so don't break out the pitchforks just yet. She is just a hormonal teenager after all though, so a little anger is allowed, I think. Plus, the next chapter is a lot more light-hearted so hopefully that'll make it up to you!
Regarding the next chapter, one of you already guessed something like this might happen, and I can indeed confirm that there will be a sleepover of sorts. So yes, just imagine the band, Clary and maybe a couple of other people in the same house for one night. I wasn't lying when I said it will be a lot more light-hearted. I hate angst but sometimes a little bit is necessary on the road to romance and self-realisation -cue mystic music- so it's all heading to a good place!
Thank you again for reading! Before I forget, for those of you who wanted it, I've put a link on my profile to my tumblr. I will warn you though, it's about as crazy and varied as I am...so make of that what you will. Anyway, that's me done! Tell me what you thought, even if you do want to gather the townsfolk! I'll be back on Wednesday...
smim xx
