I'M HERE.

DON'T DO ANYTHING DRASTIC.

PUT DOWN THAT PITCHFORK.

I'M BACK FROM THE DEAD AAAAAAAAAH!

Literally, I am back from the dead. You know how I mentioned last chapter that my laptop was dying? Well, it turns out that it was the charger that was dying. So once my laptop battery finally ran out, I couldn't bring it back again. For the past week or so, my brother lent me his laptop while I was waiting for my new charger to arrive but then that started messing up too, so I physically could not update, even though I wanted to. Once I finally got the laptop working again, I had to catch up on all the work I missed from uni first, so this is the earliest possible time I have been able to write. Seriously, this is the first time I've been home in weeks, and the first thing I did was write this chapter. I'm so sorry that I had to keep you all waiting, but it was completely out of my hands.

I managed to explain most of this to all of you tumblr guys, but then I realised the rest of you wouldn't know about that, so I've now set up a link on my profile to my update section on tumblr. You don't need an account to be able to see it, but basically if I'm ever having problems with updating, I'll post about it on tumblr because I don't like uploading whole chapters for just an A/N. In the future, if you're ever worried about not getting an update on the day you're meant to (allowing a bit of leeway), just check that page and it should tell you what's going on. I'll put some FAQs and the like on there as well for you.

Finally, just to clear a few things up. I think some of you got a bit confused but Mr Wayland is not Jace's father. Jace is a Herondale, Mr Wayland is just Clary's form tutor, which I've been told is a 'homeroom' teacher for some of you non-UK folk.

Right. Crisis over. Off we go.

Disclaimer: I do not own TMI or any of its characters. I do now finally have a new charger and my beloved laptop back. I've missed you baby.

Chapter 25: Trying to pass the pepper

"Jocelyn dear, could you pass me the pepper please?" Dad asks, reaching forward. He sits opposite my mother at the dinner table, smiling as she obliges. Jonathan is seated at the head of the table – he's always insisted upon it, even from a young age – with Mr Wayland at the other end, the farthest he could possibly be from us. That leaves Jace and I sitting next to my parents, with my mother at my left and Jace on the same side as my father. Dad's elbow unashamedly keeps knocking into him as he sprinkles the pepper over his lasagne.

Mr Wayland – or Michael, should I say – has been avoiding direct eye contact with either myself or Jace since the moment he arrived, though this is not necessarily the best thing. It's clear that my parents have always known he was my form tutor, and I'm certain the reason he's always been so lenient towards me is because I was Valentine's daughter. Therefore, the awkwardness between us may raise suspicion. If he really is as close to my father as I've been led to believe, is there a chance he may have already let something slip about us? It would explain why Dad insisted on sitting next to Jace at the table, though it wouldn't explain why said blonde is still allowed to keep breathing.

The silence between us all is palpable, with only the sounds of Jonathan's sloppy eating and Dad's knife scraping exaggeratedly across his plate disturbing the peace. Mum's cooking is good enough today to justify the lack of conversation, so I'm hoping we may get away with not having to say a word until the end of dinner.

Unfortunately, my father doesn't have the same idea.

"So, Michael," he begins, setting down his cutlery to take a sip of wine. "I hope Clarissa hasn't been causing you too much trouble at school."

Mr Wayland begins to choke on his mouthful of lasagne.

Great, Mr W. That's exactly the sort of subtlety I was hoping for.

"Sorry," he splutters, coughing into his hand. "A bit of errm…sauce just went down the wrong way."

I'll bet it did.

I keep my head bowed, staring intently at an oddly-shaped mushroom on my plate until he's fully recovered.

"That's a relief," my mother laughs. "I was worried it was my food that was the problem."

"Absolutely not," Mr Wayland dabs at his mouth with a handkerchief. "The lasagne is divine, Jocelyn."

"Thank you," she nods, giving my father a look. "See, Michael likes it."

"I didn't say I didn't like it, my dear," Dad says, sitting up a little straighter. "I just like a bit more of a kick to my food." To back this up, he shakes yet more pepper onto his lasagne, grinning at the way my mother glares at him in response. "Anyway Michael, we were talking about Clarissa…"

"Ah yes," Mr Wayland mumbles, throwing a quick glance in my direction. "Clary is…well, she's certainly very punctual."

"Thanks to me," Jonathan pipes up, pointing his fork at himself. "I see it as a personal duty to always make sure she's in on time."

"Actually," I glower at him. "You're the one who takes forever looking in the mirror every morning. If you didn't drive like an idiot, we'd be late every day."

"What?!" Dad snaps his head in our direction. "What's this about your driving?"

"It's perfect," Jonathan insists, gulping down his food. "I promise, I'm the safest driver on the road. Now, could you pass me the pepper please?"

"If the road was empty, maybe," Jace laughs under his breath, handing Jonathan the pepper, but of course my father picks up on it.

"You can talk!" Jonathan blurts out at Jace, before Dad can begin screaming at him. "That thing you drive is like a coffin on wheels."

"Coffins don't kill people, Jon."

"But they hold the rotting corpses of the dead, so basically, that would be your passengers."

"I do hope you're not talking about my grandmother there, Morgenstern. Imogen Herondale could take you down any day."

"Okay, that's enough!" Mum brandishes her cutlery at the two of them. "Both of you, stop it. Really Jonathan, do you have to make everything about yourself?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Jonathan turns to me, arching an eyebrow. "We were talking about Clary, weren't we? Mr Wayland, why don't you tell my parents about that detention she got last week?"

My mouth falls open at the same time that my teacher has another coughing fit; this time, he chokes on his water. Jace stops halfway through a bite of his food, a panicked look on his face.

"Detention?" My mother gasps, her eyes widening at me.

Seriously, one of these days Jonathan's remains are going to end up as fertiliser for my vegetable patch and I will have no regrets.

I kick my brother under the table, hard. He winces slightly in response, but that doesn't wipe the satisfied grin off of his face.

Keep smiling, bro. You will help my carrots grow. They will grow to extraordinary lengths and I will win many prizes and then, it will be my turn to smile.

"Is this true, Michael?" Dad asks, pounding him on the back until his throat has cleared up again.

"Well…" Mr Wayland finally says. "It was no big deal, really."

"That's not what I heard," Jonathan shakes his head slowly from side to side. "I was told she was booked for violence towards another student."

"Clarissa Adele Morgenstern!" Dad booms, slamming his hands down on the table.

I cringe away from the noise, fixing Jonathan with a stony glare before I dare to look at my parents.

"But it wasn't…" I start, but my mother cuts me off.

"Your father and I raised you so much better than that!" She raises her hand to her mouth, the immense disappointment clearly etched in her features. My father is a whole other story. His face is contorted with such pain and fury you'd think that instead of just getting a small detention, I'd just painted his garage with the blood of his people.

"Violence!?" I watch the vein in his forehead pulse almost in time with his words. "You know how much I abhor violence! I raised you to be indifferent in these situations, Clarissa. I raised you to be…" He takes a deep breath.

"Neutral?" I offer, realising that in his eyes, yes, it probably is as bad as the garage thing.

"I was actually going to say a lady, but that works too."

"Really, it wasn't like…" Mr Wayland begins, though my parents are too distraught to notice him. "Jonathan, could you pass me the pepper please?"

"Oh the shame," Mum bows her head, muttering to herself. "How will I ever show my face at the Paint For Peace society again?"

"It's okay, darling," Dad reaches across to place his hand over hers. "We'll speak to the poor victim and resolve things between our families. Of course, there is a chance we may be able to cover it up completely. As long as it doesn't spread to my cousins back in Switzerland…"

Jace looks up at me then, struggling to contain a smile. I roll my eyes, deciding I might as well make the most of the fact that they're more concerned about why I got the detention, rather than what actually happened there.

"If compensation is needed, obviously I'll see if I can arrange something with them…" Dad continues. "Wait, who was it Michael?"

Mr Wayland freezes, the pepper pot still in his slightly shaking hands. "It was…err…Mr Herondale."

"My daughter hit Stephen!?" All eyes are back on me.

"Junior!" The teacher adds, before things can spiral out of control again. "Mr Herondale Junior."

My father's bushy eyebrows scrunch up in the middle as he struggles to make sense of the situation, then smooth out when he realises exactly who Mr Wayland is talking about. Jace gulps, his Adam's Apple bobbing up and down in his throat as my father slowly turns his gaze on him. Then he moves his head fractionally, glancing at me.

"You hit Jace?" Dad asks, his voice suddenly impassive.

I nod once, not trusting myself to speak. Something about his tone screams danger.

"She hit you?" Dad turns to Jace for confirmation.

"It was nothing…"

"Yes or no, Jace. Did she hit you?"

"Yes."

"How did she hit you?"

"She slapped my hand…"

I have to admit, it's impressive that Jace is able to maintain eye contact with my father, despite how stressed the situation has suddenly become. It doesn't help that they're within such close proximity of each other, either.

"She slapped your hand?" Valentine says, enunciating every syllable. Even Jonathan is too terrified to add his usual unhelpful comments.

"Yes, Sir." Jace's voice is barely above a whisper.

"Why?" Dad shifts in his seat, leaning forward so he can place his arms either side of Jace, trapping him. "Why did she slap your hand?"

Oh God, anything but this. Luckily, apart from the two of us, no one knows the real reason as to why exactly Jace was annoying me that morning. My parents are the last people I'd want to tell, so it's all a matter of whether or not Jace can come up with a plausible explanation.

"My Wayland, could you pass me the pepper please?" I say, trying to somewhat diffuse the tension. He smiles gratefully at me, sliding it across.

"Well?" Dad asks again. "Why did she slap you hand? I know my daughter, and she would never resort to violence unless she was given no other option. So what did you do?"

He's thinking the worst, I realise. He thinks Jace must have tried something with me – which he kind of did, but not to the extent my father is probably thinking. I decide to step in at this point, because there's only one way things will go down if I don't resolve this quickly. It's a way that would see Valentine completely disregarding his beliefs, despite the fact he preaches them so strongly to the rest of us. It's the way of violence.

"Fly!" I blurt out, drawing the attention back to myself. "There was a fly on his hand, so I slapped him to try to get rid of it. Mr Aldertree just looked over at the wrong time and misunderstood the entire situation. That's literally all that happened, so Jace had nothing to do with it."

"Really?" My Wayland perks up. "He put you both in detention because of something that small?"

"Both?" Mum raises her eyebrows. "What do you mean both?"

I groan, rubbing at my temples. This has clearly gone far beyond something I can handle. I thought I was making things better, but instead I've just dug myself into an even deeper hole.

Whoever invented family dinners should be very ashamed of themselves. They need to have a long, hard think about what they've done. The silence drags on, no one daring to speak up. I can feel the pressure almost like a physical weight holding me down, as they all look my way for an explanation.

Think, Clary. Think. Think of something. Anything.

But then I'm too busy thinking that I should be thinking of something, that I don't end up thinking about anything useful at all.

In the end, my salvation comes in the form of the most unlikely source.

Jonathan stands up suddenly, his chair scraping noisily across the floor.

"Mum. Dad." He looks at each of them in turn. "I have something to tell you…"

"Jonathan, can't this wait?" Mum waves him off irritably.

"No, I'm afraid it can't." Jonathan takes a deep breath, then gives me a pointed look. This is for you, he's telling me. "I don't think Switzerland was right in staying neutral during the war."

The effect of his words is instantaneous.

Jonathan may have just pulled me out of my hole, but he just plunged himself into a ravine.

-o-O-o-

Half an hour later, I'm so mentally exhausted I could quite easily fall asleep at the table. On the plus side, Jonathan's declaration completely distracted my parents from the detention issue. After his heated discussion with my father – apparently, this is something he'd already thought through many times before - it took them both quite a while before they calmed down enough to eat dessert. Mum was quick on bringing in the strawberry trifle, knowing that it was vital to everyone's state of mind for the rest of the evening. Mr Wayland excused himself pretty early on, making some excuse about having some correspondence with Mrs Branwell that he still needed to reply to, so it was up to the rest of us to deal with the situation. At least with him out of the picture, there's no way my parents can find out about exactly what happened that detention, unless Jace and I tell them ourselves.

Yeah. Unlikely.

"So," I clear my throat. "This trifle is great."

"Yeah," Jace nods. "It's amazing, Mrs Morgenstern."

"It's from ASDA," Mum answers, smiling awkwardly at us.

"Ah."

We all fall silent again.

"Oh, Val!" She says a few minutes later. "Charlotte phoned today. She was wondering if you'd be free this weekend for the suit fitting? You know, for the wedding?"

"Eh, I don't know yet." Dad shrugs, not even bothering to look up. "I have a lot of work."

"I know, dear, but surely it can't hurt to get out of the house for a bit?"

"I'll see…"

"How about you, Jonathan?"

"I'm busy," he grumbles, spooning the dessert into his mouth.

Mum sighs, clearly deflated. I'm pretty sure this isn't what she'd envisioned for her evening. I can't help feel that it's partly my fault. Only partly though, because the rest of it I'm completely pinning on Jonathan.

"Is there any more?" Dad asks a little while later, having scooped his bowl clean.

"There should be," Mum nods. "Jonathan, could you go and get your father some more trifle?"

Jonathan looks like he's about to complain, but then Mum glares at him so he rolls his eyes and walks off to the kitchen.

"Don't be too hard on him," she says, speaking softly to my father. "He's just stressed out, that's all. There's not long now until the semi-finals of your contest, is there Jace?"

Jace's head snaps up.

"Erm…no, just a couple of weeks left."

"Do you know who you're playing against?" I ask, realising I don't actually know much about what's to come. Jace stiffens suddenly, then a slow smirk spreads across his face.

"Sebastian knows, but the rest of us decided we didn't want to find out. It doesn't matter who we're facing. If we're good enough, we'll get through on our own merit."

"That's a very good way of thinking!" Mum exclaims. "Isn't it, Valentine?"

"Sure…" Dad shrugs, still staring down at his bowl.

"Well, I'm sure you boys will be just fine."

"Thank you, Mrs M," Jace grins, though his eyes don't leave mine. He raises his eyebrows at me, though I can't figure out what he's trying to tell me. There's something more mischievous about his expression than usual, though I can't quite put my finger on it. It's a good thing my father isn't paying too much attention to him right now. "I'm pretty confident in our skills."

"As you should be," Mum agrees. "You're all very talented."

Jace bites his lip then, his eyes boring into mine. I give him a questioning look, but this only causes his smile to stretch wider.

Seriously, is he trying to get us caught?

"What's taking that boy so long?" Dad snaps, pushing away from the table.

My mother gasps. "How are you doing that?"

"How am I doing what?"

"I…but…" Then her eyes widen with horror, and she looks towards Jace. He drops my gaze, his eyebrows pulling together as he notices her stare.

Then as if given some invisible cue, they both cry out and jump out of their chairs. All of the colour drains from Jace's face as he looks between my mother and I, his jaw on the floor.

"What?" Dad demands. "What's going on?"

"I thought…was that not you?" Jace squeaks out, now taking on a rather green hue.

"Was what not me? I don't understand…"

"I'm going to be sick…" He leans over his chair, his hand to his stomach. I look to my mother for an explanation, but she doesn't seem to be doing much better.

"Will someone tell me what's going on?" Dad places his hands on his hips, anger seeping into his tone. "Jocelyn?"

"Oh, Valentine!" Mum breathes out. "I was just trying to calm you down, like always…"

"Calm me down? But I didn't…" Dad takes a step back, surveying the scene. Jace still seems as if he's in a serious amount of pain. "You were playing footsie with Jace!?"

"YOU WERE WHAT!?" I yelp, standing up.

Jace. And my mother.

Jace. And my mother.

I'm going to faint.

"I thought it was you!" Jace wretches again.

"How could it be me? I always keep my legs tucked under my chair!" I run a hand through my hair, pacing backwards. "That's just what I do!"

"Well, how was I supposed to know that?" His voice rises in pitch.

"By the fact that it was coming from a different direction! My left foot would be where her right foot was."

"A foot touched my leg, Clary! Obviously the first thought in my head wasn't 'ooh, I wonder what type of foot this is!?'"

"I'm going to puke…" I hold my hand to my mouth, trying to erase the mental images in my head.

Oh dear Lord.

"It wasn't that bad, Clary," Mum insists, holding her hands out. "I didn't go above the knee area."

"Mum, please…" I grasp the back of my chair, struggling for breath.

Stay calm, Clary. Just breathe. Don't think about your boyfriend and your mother playing footsie under the table, just centimetres from you….

Oh god.

I SAID DON'T THINK ABOUT IT!

"I'm sorry, Clary!" Jace says. "I thought it was you!"

"STOP!" Dad yells. "Jocelyn is my wife! I should be the one you're apologising to here! But wait…" He looks between the two of us, his lips pressing together. "What do you mean, you thought it was her?"

Shit.

"I…" Jace chokes out. "I…I'm sorry?"

"That's true," Mum looks up too, narrowing her eyes at us. "I know it must be a little weird, but why are you so upset, Clary?"

Double shit.

In all of the chaos, Jace and I had completely forgotten my parents were still there. And more importantly, we'd forgotten that they had absolutely no idea about us.

"What are you not telling us?"

Jace and I stare at each other, neither of us willing to be the first to speak.

"You aren't saying…" My mother backs away toward my father. "Are you…surely not?"

"No!" My father shakes his head violently. "I refuse to believe it."

Our continued silence is answer enough for them.

"I had to go to the extra fridge in the garage," Jonathan says, walking into the dining room with another trifle. "Sorry it took so long."

Then he takes in the four of us standing there, frozen with varying degrees of mortification on our faces.

"I was only gone five minutes…"

When no one replies, he sets down the trifle and glares at us.

"Okay seriously, what did I miss?"

A lot, Jon. You really need to hurry up in the future.

Right, since I've updated today, I probably won't have time to update again by Sunday. I'll be back on Wednesday though and I'll resume my normal schedule from there. Sorry again for stressing you all out, trust me when I say I have been so frustrated this past week too! I fell behind on so much of my work and it was awful D: But yeah, I'm slowly getting back on track.

Technology. Sometimes it's the most amazing thing in the world, and sometimes I just want to beat it with a hammer.

Thank you all again for sticking with me! Till Wednesday guys...

smim xx