Chapter 2

Clary Pov

Clary heard the ding of the elevator as the doors slid open. She stepped in, crinkling her nose at the strong scent of perfume. Simon and she always bickered about how his complex was too fancy for her. At least this time she was dressed better.

When the elevator came to a stop at the penthouses, she made her way to the last door on the hallway. Clary pushed the door open, a bad habit both her best friend and she had acquired after being friends for so long. As she kicked her shoes, she heard the T.V volume go down, and the one and only Simon Lewis appeared, geeky glasses and all.

But Clary had to admit, puberty had done wonders for him. From a gangly, scrawny teenager obsessed with Anime and gaming, Simon had filled out nicely. He was now pretty built and had a wicked jawline. Instead of having a rat's nest for hair, it was now a tousled soft light brown head of hair.

" How bad was it?" he asked, leaning on the side of the wall, looking her up and down.

" I don't only come to you for emotional support Lewis, it was fine. Actually, I never go to you for emotional support. That's Izzy's department." she replied, thwacking him on the arm as she went to his room.

"First off, OW. And second, stop using my girlfriend's compassion. She's mine." Simon complained as he followed her to the room. Clary went to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer where she kept a stash of her clothes for occasions like this.

Laughing as she pulled out a pair of ratty jeans and a paint-stained shirt, Clary retorted, " If we're getting into terms now, she was technically my friend first buddy. So actually, you used our friendship to boost your love life."

Simon placed a hand over his heart. " You wound me," he stated dramatically. Clary snorted and made her way to the kitchen to fix herself another cup of coffee. Her friends had told her off many times about her coffee addiction, but she always fought back with the claim that if they tried to limit her, she'd key their cars.

They made their way to the living room, where Clary explained to Simon how her interview went. She left out the part about her wanting to sketch her future boss though. Simon would tease her endlessly if she let that slip out. In the end, Simon assured her that it went great and that if she didn't get the job, then Jonathon was a major douchebag.

For the remainder of the day, they lounged around on the couch, flipping aimlessly through channels and going back and forth about this and that. Eventually, Simon's girlfriend and one of Clary's only other friends Isabelle Lightwood came home. Tall, dark, and extremely beautiful, Isabelle Lightwood was a sight to see. Her long dark hair was a black sheet to her waist. She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at the sight for sore eyes in her living room.

After a pause, she announced, " I'm going to start dinner."

It was as if an explosion had occurred. Clary toppled off of the couch while Simon choked on his beer, hacking violently. But they both yelled at the same time "NO!"

Isabelle pouted and stomped her foot., "Fine then. If you guys are gonna be such babies about it, then you figure out dinner!" she said, then continued to stalk to their bedroom and slam the door.

"Whew, that was a close one Fray," Simon said as he wiped his forehead.

"Actually Si, I should probably get back. I've got a lot to do at home."

Simon nodded and stood up, dusting his faded jeans. " I'll drive you home."

The drive to Clary's apartment was left to a comfortable silence, with the radio playing distinctly in the background. When they pulled up outside of Clary's crummy apartment, she kissed Si on the cheek before heading up to her quiet little apartment. She lay deep in bed that night. She thought about the past interview, and how much was riding on it. Clary obviously wasn't where she'd envisioned herself in the future right now. She was behind in rent, living in basically living in a shithole. She had no family, and all of her friends were doing extremely well and were perfectly content. And to top it all off, she had no diploma or credibility of any sort, leaving her with very few options. Clary had always wanted to be an artist and have her pieces of work displayed in galleries but had never had the time or financial stability to do so. The dream had never truly died, but more like shoved aside until further notice.


The next day as Clary was attempting to tidy up her living room, the Harry Potter theme song began blasting from her phone. Rummaging through the couch, she triumphantly pulled it out to see that it was an unknown number.

" Fray, who's speaking,"

" Good morning Ms. Clarissa this is Jonathon Herondale speaking." Clary sucked in a breath.

" Oh, good morning. I wasn't expecting to get a call from you so soon. How can I help you?"

" I've called to inform you that you have been given the job."

" Oh. OH. Thank you so much Mr. Herondale. When would you like me to start?"

" I'll have a driver come around to collect you tomorrow evening if that's alright?"
" Yes, that should be alright."

" I'll see you tomorrow then." He said and the line went dead.

Clary squealed and began jumping up and down like a school girl. She then laughed at her antics and flopped onto the couch. She had gotten the job.

TIME SKIP

Clary had finished packing by the time lunch rolled around the next day. It was pathetic really, that she was able to pack up her life so easily. She had already gotten Simon to come and pick up almost all of her pictures and paintings because she definitely wouldn't have room for them in her new home.

Home. It was a word that Clary wasn't too familiar with. As a child, her mother had always been working, leaving young Clary to fend for herself. Then living with her ex-boyfriend Raphael Santiago had been a complete nightmare. She remembered feeling so alone, always afraid, covering up the bruises and cuts. He was the reason she had anxiety attacks. They had gotten a lot better, thanks to Izzy and Simon. They were the only ones who knew that Raphael used to hurt her.

Clary shuddered. That was in the past now and there was nothing she could do but focus on the present.