~~~Chapter 9~~~
But the stepmother began to show herself in her true colors. She could not bear the good qualities of this pretty girl, and the less because they made her own daughters appear the more odious.
Previously...
Clary swore under her breath and dashed out of the room down the corridor. Everyone was asleep, she couldn't ask for a lift. She would have to run.
It was pitch black outside, and freezing, and Clary was shivering as she dashed down the drive and onto the quiet street. Every story she'd ever heard about girls getting kidnapped or murdered in the dark flooded back to her, and she ran faster.
Clary's legs were aching and she was gasping for breath when her house finally loomed out of the dark. The porch light was still on.
Clary staggered to the front door, only to find it unlocked.
Camille stood in the hallway, hands on her hips. "Clarissa. Come in."
Clary gulped.
Camille's mascara was smudged, leaving dark tears under her eyes. Her chipped nails were clutching a bottle of what looked like champagne.
"Camille, I'm so sorry, I - " Clary began.
"I don't want to hear it." Camille snapped. She stalked forwards, grabbing Clary's chin and pushing it upwards so Clary was looking directly into her face. "You look so much like your mother," Camille said softly, "it's disgusting."
"My mother wasn't - "
"Your mother was a bitch." Camille snarled. "Her husband couldn't bear her, or you. You're why they split up, you know. Your father couldn't stand either of you, and so he left to find me instead."
Clary's head spun. "You told me my mother died!" she said, "And my father met you afterwards!"
Camille's smile was savage. "Oh she did die, in a way. She was dead inside after your father left her, and she forced him to take you with him. She abandoned you. She hated you."
"That's not true!" Clary cried. Hot tears were pricking her eyes, and she tried to blink them back. Camille's fingernails were digging into her skin.
"Both your parents wanted nothing to do with you!" Camille snapped. "That's why your father left me, so he could be rid of youI! You cursed me, you cursed this house! And every day, you remind me of what I lost!" Her words were jagged and cut into Clary like knives.
Camille hated her, because she believed Clary was the cause of her breakup with Clary's father.
Because Clary's father had hated her. Because Clary's mother had abandoned her.
The tears ran freely down Clary's face now. "It's not true," she whispered, "it's not…"
"SHUT UP!" Camille yelled, and threw the champagne bottle. It smashed on the floor, soaking the carpet. Glass shards glinted like knives.
Camille was breathing hard, her eyes bright. "You." she said softly to Clary, hands clenching and unclenching. "You look just like her, big doe eyes, a face like a doll. No wonder your father hated you."
Clary shook her head, her mind as shattered as the broken glass at her feet. Camille had closed her eyes, like she was silently counting to ten.
She opened them again. "Pick up the glass."
"What?" Clary whispered.
"Pick. Up. The. Glass."
Clary knelt, and carefully put some of the shards in her hand. She was shaking so hard she nearly cut herself.
Camille knelt down too, wobbling slightly on her heeled shoes. She took Clary's hand in her own and folded it closed. Clary cried out as the glass cut into her fingers.
"You are nothing but vermin, Clarissa." Camille whispered, hand tightening around Clary's own. Her perfume was mixed with the smell of sweat and alcohol. "You are nothing. Don't you forget it."
Clary flinched as the glass cut in further, drawing blood.
Camille straightened. "Pick it all up. By hand. And mop up the champagne. Then I want you to wash the carpet and re-wax the floor." her voice had gone back to calm and controlling. Clary didn't look at her.
"And if you disobey me again, Clarissa," Camille hissed, "I will know, and I will throw you out on the street."
Clary listened to her heels clop back down the hallway and up the stairs. Then she opened her hand and let the glass spill out like rain.
Clary's mind was numb as she picked up the glass, as she mopped up the champagne, washed the carpet, and waxed the floor. It was well into morning as she climbed the stairs to her room and collapsed onto her bed.
Her phone had missed texts from Christopher, but Clary couldn't talk to him. She lay in the darkness, unable to sleep.
Her husband couldn't bear her, or you.
She abandoned you.
You are nothing.
Clary was practically a zombie the next day. She hadn't slept at all after she'd gotten home, and Camille's words played in her head over and over again.
Clary had no idea how she got though the day, in fact. Simon kept asking her what was wrong, but she told him she was just tired. The wounds were to fresh and raw for her to talk about them.
Isabelle came up a few times too, to ask if Clary was okay. Clary brushed her off the same way as Simon.
She slept through Maths, managed to take down zero notes in Science, and had to leave halfway through English, on the excuse that she had a headache.
She walked down the corridor and then stopped abruptly, leaning her head against the wall.
"Clary?"
She turned, and bit back a groan as Jace came towards her. "What are you doing here?"
Jace raised an eyebrow. "I could ask the same of you. I'm supposed to be fetching some spare microscopes from the science office."
Clary nodded. "I'm… not really supposed to be out here." she mumbled.
"Clary, what's wrong?"
Clary had to look up to meet his eyes, she was so short. He was looking at her with worry, something she'd never thought she'd see.
"I'm fine." she said, pushing off the wall and stepping away from him, but Jace stopped her.
"Clary." he said sharply. "What's that on your hand?"
Clary made to put her hands behind her back but Jace grabbed them before she could. He stared at the scratches on her palm and running up her arms.
"It's nothing." Clary insisted. "A glass smashed while I was holding it, and I got cut. That's all."
She pulled her hands out of his grasp and tried to keep walking back to her classroom, but Jace blocked her way. "Glass doesn't cut that badly unless it's pushed into you."
"It's none of your business!" Clary snapped, pushing past him.
"Clary, you disappeared in the middle of the night last night. You didn't have a car, so you must have walked home. In the dark. What were you thinking? Then you show up to school with scratches up your arms and huge bags under your eyes - "
"Thanks a lot."
Jace blocked her way again. "Clary, what's going on?"
She glared up at him, but he wasn't budging.
So Clary decided to do something extremely stupid.
Later, she told herself it was because she was tired, or because she was mad at him and wanted him to move. Later, she couldn't remember what she had been thinking.
Clary kissed him.
She had to stand up on her tiptoes, and grab his shoulders for balance. Jace tensed in surprise, his body jerking away - before he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back.
His mouth was hot under hers, one of his hands in her hair. Clary was lifted half off the ground. She remembered thinking, what the hell am I doing? She remembered thinking, this is a very bad idea. She remembered thinking, Jace is surprisingly good at this.
And it was the last thought that made her push away. Of course Jace was expert at this. He'd kissed so many girls, had so many girlfriends. He hadn't cared about any of them.
Clary was not going to be the next girl he discarded.
She stared at him, breathing hard. Jace's eyes were slightly wide, his hair rumpled.
"Clary - " he began.
She turned and ran.
When the bell finally rang for the end of school, Clary had never been so relieved. She hurried home, trying not to thing about anything - especially not Jace.
Which was hard to do when she found him, Alec and Isabelle standing outside her front door.
Clary saw Kaelie and Seelie's parked car and breathed a sigh of relief. They'd already gone inside, and hadn't noticed the visitors. That would have been awkward.
Clary made her way warily up the drive. "What are you guys doing here?"
"Isn't this what friends do?" Isabelle asked innocently. "Go over to each other's houses?"
Had Jace told her -
"Plus," Isabelle continued, "friends also are there when the other person is down."
"I'm not - " Clary began.
"Jace told me you were upset." Isabelle cut her off. Jace had the grace to look slightly embarrassed as Clary glared at him. But at least he hadn't told Isabelle everything.
"I'm fine." Clary said. "You guys should probably go."
Isabelle drew herself up to her full height - taller than Clary. "You can't order us away."
Clary sighed. "Fine. Whatever. Come in." She unlocked the front door and let them in.
"Wow." Isabelle went into Camille's shop room and stared round at all the makeup and hairbrushes.
"My step-mother. She, uh, runs a beauty salon thing here." Clary said.
Isabelle picked up a perfume bottle and sniffed it. "Nice."
"I hate to be rude," Clary said, "but you guys kind of have to go. I'm not really allowed to have friends over at the moment."
"Grounded?" Alec asked.
Clary thought of Camille smashing her champagne bottle on the floor. "Something like that."
"Clarissa?" came a voice from upstairs. "Who are you talking to?"
"It's Kaelie!" Clary hissed. "And she really cannot know that you guys are here!"
Jace, Alec and Isabelle blinked at her.
Clary dragged them over to Camille's makeup storage closet. "Hide in here, quick!"
She slammed the door just as Kaelie walked in.
"Hi Kaelie." Clary said, heart racing. She leaned causally back against the closet door.
"Talking to yourself is one of the first signs of madness, you know." Kaelie replied. "What are you doing here, anyway? Trying on makeup?"
She looked at the perfume bottle Isabelle had discarded and smirked. "Clarissa, there are some people that even makeup can't beautify."
Clary rolled her eyes. "I assume you're referring to me."
"You're learning fast, Clary," Kaelie simpered, patting Clary on the cheek with her manicured nails. "My room needs vacuuming, by the way."
"I'll get right on it." Clay muttered.
Kaelie smirked. "Good girl." She patted Clary's cheek again and flounced off.
Clary let out a sigh and stepped away from the closet door. It immediately burst open and Jace tumbled out, groaning. "I think there's nail-polish in my hair!"
Isabelle and Alec got out more gracefully. Isabelle was frowning. "Clary, Kaelie was just - "
"Ordering me around." Clary muttered. "I know. If I refuse her, she goes straight to her caring mummy and tells on me. And then I'm really in trouble."
"Last night." Jace said quietly, getting up off the floor. "Was your stepmother mad at you? Is that why…?"
Clary flushed. There wasn't much point lying. "Uh… yes. You guys should go."
They relented, and Clary managed to push them back out the door. Isabelle and Alec started down the drive, but Jace hung back.
Clary couldn't look at him properly without blushing. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off.
"Jace, yesterday… it didn't mean anything, okay? I'm sorry, I was tired, and I wasn't thinking straight." The words came out in a rush.
Jace looked surprised. He closed his mouth, opened it again, and finally said, "Uh - if you ever need help… or someplace to stay or something, just call me."
He turned and followed Alec and Isabelle down the drive.
Clary shut the door and leant against it with a sigh.
She did not like Jace. She did not.