The morning had gone by quickly; waking from her seemingly endless nightmare, being forced to change into a bathing suit. It was the bright green one she'd worn last time they'd went swimming. Clary pulled a pair of shorts over top of the bottoms, her silver anklet catching her eye-she always seemed to forget about it-she never took it off. But the strange thing, she couldn't really remember who she'd gotten it from, or why. She usually shrugged it off, but kept her gaze on it a little longer, and tied her hair up into a pony tail. She took a look at herself in the mirror; there were dark circles under her eyes, and she just looked exhausted. Like she hadn't had a decent nights sleep in a while. Quickly, Clary applied some water-proof concealer to her under eyes. At least now, she didn't look like diseased racoon.
"Clary," Isabelle sing-songed from the other side of the bathroom door. "Hurry up, we'll leave with out you," she warned. Clary rolled her eyes. "I'm so worried," she replied, sarcasm dripping from every orifices of her body. She heard Isabelle let out an annoyed puff of air, and left the bathroom. The house was quiet, save for the opening of the front door. Clary slathered on some sunscreen, and snatched up her towel. Despite her lack of sleep, Clary dashed down the stairs, and swung open the front door, closing it behind herself.
Isabelle and Jonathan were waiting by the bottom of the stairs, silence surrounding them. Isabelle looked up, and let out a quiet breath of relief. "Where is Magnus?" Clary asked, looking towards the beach, thinking that perhaps they had decided to leave without Isabelle, Jonathan and her. But, no. There was no one wearing brightly-coloured swim shorts on the beach-not that she could see, anyway. Isabelle shrugged in reply, muttering something about a glitter shortage.
Clary could hear her phone ringing from the open upstairs window, but she had no intention of going to answer it. It was probably her mom, and she was angry with her, and the last thing she wanted to do was scream at her mom. Clary shook it off, exhaling a deep breath, and then she spoke, "What about Satan's off-spring?" Because, of course, Alec would have been dragged along to purchase more glitter. Jonathan laughed, but caught Isabelle's annoyed glare, and stopped. "I don't know, he went out early this morning. Haven't seen him since."
"Perfect, hopefully I won't have to see him anytime soon," Clary said, and began walking down to the beach.
-*#*-
Swimming had been dull, and lifeless without Magnus, it was almost sad how bored they got after only half an hour. So now, Clary found herself walking back to the bakery, Isabelle at her side, Jonathan trailing behind slightly. "Is this where you've been disappearing to?" Isabelle raised an eyebrow, as Clary pushed open the door to the bakery, subconsciously clutching tighter to her towel. "You tasted the cupcakes," Clary retorted. "That should be reason enough."
"Can't argue with that," Jonathan added, looking around the bakery. And-just in time-a mess of black hair, sneakers, and a messy apron stumbled through the side door, all but tripping on his feet. He looked up sheepishly, his eyes lighting up when he saw Clary. "I thought you didn't bake?" Clary motioned to his flour-covered apron, which may or may not have had a swatch of chocolate icing on it. She was faintly amused. He stuttered a little, searching for the words to reply to her. In response, though, he simply shrugged. And then, the girl-Maia, she'd learned-came through the door, too, wiping her hands off on her apron, she grinned when she saw Clary.
"Seb told me you wouldn't leave without paying him," she grinned even more, if that was possible. Clary felt a blush rising into her cheeks, and failed to stop it. "He told me that he couldn't bake to save his life," Clary retorted after a moment, as Jonathan seemingly admired the menu board overhead. Maia laughed hysterically at this, bending over, tears streaking her cheeks, the whole bit. She even went as far as to slap her thighs, and look up at Sebastian, and laugh even more. "Him-can't bake?" Maia asked, almost rhetorically. "I'm the one that can't bake. I just icing things."
Isabelle seemed fairly amused by the whole situation, Clary noticed, as she looked over at her friend, who she had forgotten was even there. She was being so quiet. It was abnormal, for Isabelle. Clary feigned hurt, "You lied?"
Sebastian bit his lip slightly, and looked down at the cash register, before his gaze flickered back up, his eyes shadowed by his long, thick eyelashes. She was so jealous that boys got the perfect lashes. "What can I get you?" He asked. Clary tapped her lip, looking over at Jonathan and Isabelle, who both said "Red velvet," in such close time, Clary's eyes widened, as she watched Isabelle and Jonathan give each other questioning looks. Sebastian punched something into the register, and looked back up at them all, as if taking them in. "So, a six pack for you, your boyfriend, and friend?" He raised an eyebrow.
Clary laughed a little bit, as Jonathan visibly paled. "My twin," he choked out, still shocked, to say the least. Sebastian looked faintly amused, through his shock. "No way, you two look nothing alike." Jonathan stood beside Clary now, the height difference was weighing heavily in Clary's mind, making her all too aware of her shortness. "He looks like our dad," Clary pointed to him for a second, and then focused her attention back to Sebastian.
"Okay, then," Sebastian said, slightly awkwardly, and he left through the side door again. It swung slightly behind Sebastian, and Clary noticed that Maia had gone, and that Isabelle was staring longingly at the menu board. Was that drool on her chin?
Isabelle snapped her attention back to Clary. "He's so into you!" She squealed. Clary's eyes widened, and her blush could put her hair to shame. "Shh!" Clary hissed. "Shut up! He can probably hear you," she tried, but Isabelle looked far away, as she sang-like a child, "Sebastian likes Clary, Sebastian likes Clary, Sebastian likes Clary!"
Clary was about ready to punch Isabelle in the face, when Jonathan stepped in. "No, no way. She's not old enough to date," he moved in front of her, as if protecting her from Isabelle "bad influence" as people sometimes put it. "Too late for that," Isabelle sing-songed. "What?" Jonathan demanded, whirling on Clary. She held up her hands I defence. "I've never had a boyfriend," Clary said, through gritted teeth, as she shot Isabelle a glare. If looks could kill...
"But Isabelle likes to pretend, don't you, Iz?" Clary said, cocking her head to the side slightly. Now all the attention in the small room had shifted to Isabelle, who had stopped her incessant singing, and was giving Jonathan a look, one mixed with annoyance, and that said, really?
"You know, these walls are paper thin," Sebastian informed them, and Clary spun around, clutching her chest in shock. She let her eyes close, as her heart rate slowed itself. "Sorry about her," Clary jerked her head in Isabelle's general direction. "Actually, I'm just going to apologize in advance for anything my friends may do, okay?"
Sebastian laughed a little bit, a small dimple appearing on his face. "Here you go," Sebastian held the box out to Clary, she took a hold of it, while digging through her pocket for her money. And before Sebastian could protest, Clary slammed the loose change, and crinkled bills onto the glass counter. The loose change made a loud-enough-noise, as it fell onto the glass, Clary removed her hand from over top of the pile of money. She gave Sebastian a challenging look, daring him to try and refuse. He didn't.
Clary smiled sweetly at him, as she turned to leave, giving him a wave over her shoulder. "Keep the change," she said, as her hand made contact with the cold metal of the door handle. She pulled it open, and stepped onto the moderately clean sidewalk, Isabelle and Jonathan in tow.
They ended up sitting in the park, the small one they'd found that day when Jace had been chasing them. Isabelle actually seemed to be enjoying Jonathan's company now, as they all sat on the bright green grass, under the shade of a large tree-what kind, she had no idea. The cupcakes were delicious, and all of them were on their second, Clary and Isabelle savouring theirs, as Jonathan all but inhaled his. He then proceeded to try and steal Clary's from the box, where she'd put it down, as she put her hair into a fishtail braid at the side of her head.
Clary smacked his hand away quickly, almost as an instinct, after he had tied off the end of the braid. "Brother or not," Clary said, picking up the cupcake, and taking a bite. "Never touch my food." Isabelle snorted at that. "She almost cut off my fingers once," and when Jonathan looked at her in disbelief, Isabelle held up a hand, wriggling around her fingers. "True story. She was cutting p some brownies, and I tried to steal one. Almost took off four of my damn fingers."
It was Clary's turn to snort. "Drama queen," she muttered. "Am not!" Isabelle retaliated. "Are too," Clary said, taking another bite of her cupcake. Jonathan looked fairly amused by the whole situation. Clary swiveled her body around, so that she could get a better look at him; he was still Jonathan, still her brother. Except now, he looked older, he was taller, more muscular, and his fair hair fell to about his ears, covering his eyes at times.
"So tell me, dearest brother, why mom went to such extreme lengths to keep you from inheriting the family business-that she now runs, might I add," Clary said, but it turned into more of a question. Jonathan took a deep breath, and ran a hand through his hair, it was a moment of intense silence before he spoke. "Dad was a good man, he was," Jonathan said finally. It was true, too.
"But, he was into some bad things with the family business," Jonathan continued. "I knew, figured it out right after the crash, but they tried to keep it from us, Mom and Dad. Mom, because she didn't want us to think less of her or Dad. But, Dad, because he thought you were too 'fragile' to hear it," Clary scowled at her brother. "His words, not mine. Dad started telling me about it, a couple weeks before the crash, as if he anticipated it to happen. He seemed so frantic about it, like something bad was going to happen to him any day."
Isabelle was listening intently, as curious about Clary and Jonathan's past as Clary was-Clary probably more so, considering she didn't remember it properly. "I'm not sure what he was into exactly, but I know he did some dirty transactions, and when he told them he wouldn't do it anymore, whoever it was sent him a few threats. Quite a few involving us and Mom." Clary gaped at Jonathan. How did he know all this? How could he keep all this from her?
Jonathan shook his head, as if to clear it of the cobwebs of days past. "I'll tell you more, not today, though," he said. "You're probably still getting over me not being dead, and all." Clary gave him an incredulous look, "No duh, Sherlock," she said.
"Do you guys want to go back to the house?" Isabelle raised an eyebrow at them. Jonathan wiped his hands off on his pants, as he stood up. "Sorry, maybe another time. I have to get back to my apartment, school starts next month," he said. It didn't really surprise Clary-nothing did, at this point-Jonathan was a genius, after all. Not that she'd admit that to his face. Clary almost wanted to beg him not to leave her again, but not in front of Isabelle, not in public. But she really didn't think she could handle Jonathan leaving her again. So, she stood up, and wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on her tiptoes to reach him. She rested her head on his shoulder. "Please don't leave me again," Clary whispered in his ear, tears prickling the back of her eyes, and blurring her vision.
Jonathan rubbed her back, up and down, "I wouldn't leave you if you let me, Clare," Jonathan whispered back. Clary nodded, although it was kind of hard, considering his shoulder was right under her chin. Some tears fell down her cheeks, against her will, and onto his shirt. Jonathan pulled back from her, and she fell back flat on her feet, looking up at him. "Don't cry, okay? Please," Jonathan said, wiping away the remaining tears from her face with his thumb. Despite his fingers being ruff, and calloused from what she could only guess was work, or some pass time he enjoyed, his touch was gentle, just as it had always been. "I'll come visit you, as soon as I can. Promise," Clary nodded, swallowing the pleas she wanted to scream out to him, not to leave her ever, not even for school.
"Bye, Clare," he said, as he stared walking away, backwards. Clary wondered how he was able to do it without running into anybody, because if it was her doing it, she'd surely run into everybody, and thing in this park. "Bye, Isabelle," he added, as a most certain after thought, but Isabelle didn't seem to mind. She was brushing off her shirt, which had small bits of grass on it, since she had lain down on the grass.
"Shall we?" Isabelle asked, holding out for Clary to take. "We shall," Clary cracked a smile, and laced her arm through Isabelle's. They walked through the park, and soon found themselves back at the house, which seemed alive with energy-and not the good kind. There were screams coming from inside. Yelling, as if there were a contest; The next louder than the one before.
Clary could easily identify Magnus' voice, as he hollered at someone, and then Alec's, and then Jace's. She wondered what on earth they were arguing about. Probably who ate the last bag of chips, that would inevitably run out sometime-much to the boys' dismay. Clary and Isabelle winced, as the shouting match seemingly reached it's climax, and the shouting came to the loudest Clary thought she had ever heard it. Reluctantly, though, Clary and Isabelle walked up the front steps, and hesitantly, Isabelle pushed on the front door. It didn't budge. Locked.
Clary and Isabelle both cursed loudly, but both of them were cancelled out by the screaming match inside. The worst part about being locked out? They didn't have their keys, and there was no way to get the boys' attention, save for out-screaming them, which was definitely something they were good at...A wicked grin spread across Isabelle's model features. Clary knew her face probably mirrored Isabelle's, as they found their way to the back door, which for some reason they had yet to use, and pretty much ignored. It opened right by the kitchen, just by the stairs, most likely where the screaming match was taking place.
"Why would you do that!" Clary could hear Alec yell at the top of his lungs, no doubt trying to get his point across to someone-most likely Jace-because, Alec being himself; a quiet, calm person, hardly yelled for anything. Luckily, the back door was unlocked, Clary had no idea why, because if they hadn't used it, it should be locked. But maybe that was how Jace had been getting in and out unnoticed.
"You know she was devastated when he died!" Alec hollered, and Clary and Isabelle winced, their proximity not helping the loudness of the shouts. "What did you want me to do? He's just going to leave her again!" Jace shouted back.
"So you had to tell that other guy to back off, too?" Magnus' voice topped Alec and Jace's petty argument, he had always had strong lungs, Clary knew. She remembered from the time when she had to go pick him up from a bar, to find him completely, absolutely hammered, singing Mariah Carey karaoke on stage, from the top of his lungs. Which, to say the least, was loud. So when Magnus was yelling like this, purposely, seemingly even louder than then, Clary knew that something was wrong.
"I don't know what is wrong with you!" Alec shouted. "You kiss her, and then go an sleep with who knows how many other girls! All you're doing is making things worse!" She had a sickening feeling that they were talking about her, hopefully, though, they weren't. With her stomach in knots, and Isabelle at her side, they glanced at each other, and nodded, agreeing that they were going to do this. Clary guessed that the boys were in the kitchen, but from where they were standing, the kitchen might as well have been invisible for all they could see.
"I haven't slept with any girls since coming here, I'll have you know, Alexander!" Jace hollered in response. Isabelle walked forward, into the kitchen, Clary at her side. Sure enough, there stood Alec, his cheeks definitely could put a fire truck to shame, as he seethed angrily at Jace, his glare deadly. Magnus stood further away, his cheeks red, as well-which meant something, considering Magnus never had any colour, save for the natural one, in his cheeks-and then Jace stood on the opposite side of the room. His black t-shirt wrinkled, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, and a very, very deadly glare pointed towards Alec and Magnus. One of Ale's hands gripped the side of the counter, turning his hand a pure white, which couldn't be good.
"Are you sure about that?" Alec asked, venom soaked his words, as he spat them at Jace, as if disgusted by his best friend.
Isabelle counted on her fingers, she held one finger, then two, and then the final one...three.
Clary took a deep breath, before she screamed as loud as she could, "SHUT UP!" Her and Isabelle both screamed, Isabelle overpowering her slightly, but nonetheless, it got their attention. They turned their heads to look at the girls, it was like they didn't recognize them; they all wore deadly glares, Alec was panting slightly, the room was deadly silent and Clary was sure that if either her or Isabelle moved or made another sound, they would be ripped to shreds. But that didn't stop her from opening her mouth.
"Glad that we've got your attention," she mused. "Now, have you got all that screaming out of your systems?" She tried to raise an eyebrow, but both went up. No one seemed to notice, though. The room stayed silent. "Well?" Isabelle asked, her tone expectant.
"Fine, no one's going to answer us?" Clary asked, looking around the room. When no one moved, or even a syllable left anyone's mouth, she continued. It was so silent she swore she could hear each rapidly beating heart in the room. "Then someone better explain what the hell this screaming match is about."
Alec moved to storm out, but Isabelle held up a hand, "Alexander Gideon Lightwood, move another millimetre, and I swear on Magnus' life I will skin you alive with the heel of my stiletto," she warned, her voice steady. And frankly, Clary would have been afraid if she was on the receiving end of that threat. Alec's eyes widened, and he visibly gulped. He didn't move a muscle. "Just like that," Isabelle said.
"Now, Magnus, why don't you explain, hm?" Clary gave him an expectant look, as Jace's chest moved up and down heavily, his gaze anywhere but her, more specifically her eyes. He refused to even look at her, so he stared down a cupboard. Magnus looked like the last thing he wanted to do was explain, but he groaned, and met Clary's gaze head on. "Guess what Blondie over here did," he said, motioning with his head to Jace, who glowered at the sparkly man across the room from him. Clary shrugged, "I don't know what the hell he did this time," she said void of emotion. "Enlighten me."
"He told Jonathan, and Sebastian to stay away from you," Magnus said, giving Jace a superior look. Clary gaped at Magnus, and then turned her attention to Jace, who refused to meet her gaze. "You don't want to know the rest," Alec added, his voice low.
"Tell me," Clary pushed. Magnus looked hesitant, but unless you knew Magnus like the back of your hand, you wouldn't have noticed it under his thick layer of anger. "I said, tell me," Clary said, her own anger growing-not only towards Jace, either. She had a feeling that they were all keeping something from her-things-and Isabelle, too. The anger in the room seemed to evaporate. Just like that. There was a fog of uneasiness that had swept over the room, mixed with the leftover anger that Clary could tell was still boiling under the skin of each boy in the room.
"No one's going to tell me?" Clary raised her eyebrows expectantly. There was dead silence, so quiet you could tell everyone was holding their breaths, leaving Clary to hear her own heart thumping wildly in her chest. "Okay, you know what? I'm so over this whole thing." Clary turned on her heel, willing herself to remember where Isabelle had left her car keys-the room, of course. She dashed up the stairs, grabbing her phone, a jacket, and some money that was laying on the bed, just visible under the mess of blankets. Her hands grasped the car keys, having pulled them off of Isabelle's small table beside her own bed. Clary clutched them tightly in her palm, the metal of the keys digging into her palm. She sensed some bleeding in the near future, if she didn't loosen her death grip. But still, she held them tightly.
Clary slammed the bedroom door on her way out, and ran down the stairs as fast as her small form could carry her. Luckily, she didn't need to go through the kitchen to get to the front door. The front door wait, just in front of the steps. Her escape. The way to put an end to this terrible nightmare.
Clary jumped down the last few steps, nearly twisting her ankle, she let out an annoyed grunt, and grasped for the metal doorknob. Twisting it, and pulling. She glanced at the kitchen, where everyone still stood, looking a little dumbstruck. Clary wanted to laugh-and she did, to herself. The sound in her head was bitter and not her at all, but that's how she felt. The door was wide open in front of her, and a soft summer breeze blew around her hair. She pushed it back down, tucking a few pieces behind her ear. She would probably be branded as reckless by her friends, but at the moment, she couldn't bring herself to care. Time was moving in slow motion, as she tried to run down the stairs, she found that she couldn't move fast enough for her liking.
Time was still slow, to her, as she walked to Isabelle's BMW, and clicked the unlock button on the remote hanging from the keychain. There was a click noise, and Clary pulled on the handle of the door. It swung open faster than she thought, time seemingly having sped up, the door hit her hip, and she hissed in the slight pain. That would definitely leave a bruise.
Clary put one leg in the car, swinging the rest of her body in after it. She had driven Isabelle's car enough to know just how to work it. Otherwise, she would be pretty screwed right now. I must seem like a five-year-old, throwing a tantrum. But this was no tantrum; she was fed up with the secrets-what else were they all keeping from her? Clary promptly shut the door, and pushed the key into the ignition, turning it. The car purred to life, finally allowing Clary some relief, for whatever reason.
She pressed down on the brake, to shift gears, and pulled on the gear shift, bringing the car out of park, and into drive-good thing Isabelle had backed in. Taking her foot off the brake, she put it on the gas. At this point, she had looked down at herself, and realized she was wearing but a bikini top, shorts, and sandals. A little bit of a horrible choice of clothing, but then again, she'd never planned on driving back to New York. Clary pressed on the gas, and the car lurched forward smoothly, spinning up sand with its tires. Am I really going to do this? She asked herself. What answers will my mom give me, when my own best friends won't even answer anything? Do I really even want to talk to her? No. No. No. Her head spun, as her inner voice repeated the same word over and over again; no.
The sky had fallen dark, and stars pierced the sky. Bright, and white and pure. So beautiful, Clary thought, as she pumped gas into Isabelle's car. Thankfully, there had been about fifty dollars in that wad of money she picked up before she left, and her jacket had had even more money in it, which she couldn't even begin to express how grateful to herself she was for working like crazy at that diner on Sixth Avenue.
Her phone had been buzzing like crazy against the passenger seat the whole ride, and Clary had to swallow back guilt every time she pretended she didn't hear her phone ringing. Although, Clary couldn't figure out why they would still want to be friends with her-or worry about her, for that matter-considering her life was like a never-ending soap opera.
She looked through the tinted window of the driver's side, and could see a faint light coming from her phone screen-more texts, more missed calls. Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes. But going back wasn't an option now; she'd seem like she was simply throwing a tantrum. That was so far from the truth, it was laughable.
Clary pulled the pump out of the car, and set it back on the stand, where it had been, before she went into the gas station to pay.
"Jace! Put me down!" Clary yelled at him, pounding on his back. She could easily jump off of him if she wanted-all it would take was her kicking him where the sun didn't-nor would it ever-shine. But, she really wasn't prepared to do that to him, considering it would involve her getting some major payback later. She held tightly to him, squeezing his torso with her legs. He was so tall, and Clary hated to admit, but she loved the view from up high-she could definitely get used to it.
He laughed, his body shaking under Clary, and she involuntarily grasped tighter to him. "Relax, Clary," he said. "I wouldn't dream of dropping you," his signature smirk found its place on his gorgeous features. Clary scoffed, and rolled her eyes. "I'm serious, let me down," she said. He stayed quiet for a moment, seemingly contemplating it. "Hm," he said, turning his head to look at her. "I don't think so."
"Remind me why you're my friend again?" Clary asked, as Jace walked them out into the woods behind his house-where they'd always played when they were kids. "Best friend-excuse you," Jace said. "And it's because I am amazing in every possible way, and hotter than the sun." Clary laughed loudly at this, and it took a few minutes before she'd recovered. "Are you sure you didn't mean that your ego is a big as the sun?" Clary asked.
Jace feigned hurt. "You wound me, Fairchild," he said, and let his grip on her legs go. Her upper arm strength wasn't all that great, so after a few moments, she lost her grip on him completely, falling on her butt. Jace chuckled, a low sound in his throat. Clary glared up a him. "What happened to not dropping me, hm?" He shrugged. " I changed my mind."
Clary jolted awake, her breathing heavy, and her heart beating crazily in her chest. What the hell? She squinted, her eyes adjusting to the darkness, before she remembered that she'd pulled over in a vacant parking lot, when her eyes started to droop shut; Isabelle would not have been happy if Clary crashed her car. Not that Clary thought she'd be happy about her taking her car all the way back to New York...without her.
Her mind wandered to the dream, but now it seemed more like a memory than a dream. Could it be one of the ones she'd lost after the crash? No way she had been friends-best friends-with Jace Herondale of all people. It didn't seem real, but sure enough, the image was still there, as vivid as it had been while she slept. Usually her dreams faded within a few minutes of being awake, but this one stayed firmly in place, replaying on loop in her head.
Clary yawned, and felt her eyes begin to shut again. She let them; that had been the first time she hadn't had a restless sleep. Why not catch up on some sleep?
Blackness took her over, and she was held tightly in the clutches of sleep.
Clary sat on a couch, someone's body pressed very close to hers. The couch was white, and plush, and just overall comfortable-like the kind you would use as your bed, if you could. The room was familiar, she knew it like the back of her hand, having been here so much. On the television screen, Friday the 13th was playing. Not one of her preferred horror movies, but it wasn't bad. The only reason she'd agreed to watch it at all, was because Jace liked it, and he was sick of watching all of the other ones on repeat. So, begrudgingly, Clary had agreed to his choice. If he wasn't her best friend, she'd probably have murdered him a long time ago.
At the moment, someone was being murdered, and Clary was actually quite bored. Jace was watching the screen intensely. Clary squished herself more into his side, finding that her eyelids were falling shut every couple of minutes...seconds, now. Jace's body was warm, and comforting. She rested her head on his chest, as sleep clawed at her. Clary breathed in his scent, pine needles, laundry soap and sunshine-if sunshine had a smell, she was sure that it would be what Jace smelled like.
Clary yawned, and allowed her eyes to shut. She was just falling asleep, when she heard an amused laugh, it was all too familiar. "Are you comfortable there?" Jace asked. Clary slapped him, her hand making hard contact with his chest, the sound oddly satisfying. "Shut up..." Clary trailed off. "I'm tired."
She felt Jace relax beneath her, and lay back against the couch. She heard Jace say something, but his voice was too low and quiet for her to hear, and the sleepiness didn't help much, either. "What...?" She mumbled into his chest, but got no reply.
Clary jolted awake, for the second time that night. She was surprised to have had another...dream? Or maybe it was another memory coming back to her. Or maybe, she just imagined the whole thing, something her mind made it up to toy with her.
It was still dark out, but she could just see the sun coming up through the thick clouds that had gathered. Clary yawned, and tried her best to stretch out in the small space. Her phone buzzed loudly, startling her so much she jumped in her seat, nearly hitting her head on the roof of the car. She cursed under her breath, and hesitantly picked up her phone, turning it over so she could see the screen. On the screen, it showed a picture of her and Isabelle, both covered in paint from a party they'd went to-paint Twister had been the main attraction. They were both smiling widely, and Clary found herself near crying. She couldn't answer, Isabelle would want answers. Ones that she didn't have, and wasn't prepared to share, even if she did.
The declined the call, sending Isabelle to voicemail. The picture disappeared from the screen, showing Clary's lock screen, which had countless notifications; sixty-nine missed calls from Isabelle, forty-three from Alec, seventy-two from Magnus, twenty from Jace. When she scrolled down further, there was nothing but voicemail notifications, and text messages from Isabelle, Alec, and Magnus. None from Jace, though.
Hesitantly, Clary replayed the voice mails, the first one from Isabelle, sounding frantic and stressed, and on the verge of tears.
"Clary," she said. "Please, please, answer your phone. Tell me you're okay!" And the call ended.
The next one was from Magnus.
"Biscuit, come on, answer your phone...come back to the house. Tell someone where you're going," and that was the end of the voicemail. The next few were from Isabelle and Magnus, a few from Alec, and then to her utter surprise, Jace.
"Clary, I know I've been an ass," he said, sounding distraught, "Just please, come back. Isabelle and Magnus are freaking out, and Alec's trying to calm them down, while he's freaking out just-" the end of the voicemail cut him off. Just what? Clary wondered. She fought the urge to call each of them back, tell them she was fine, and that she would come back. Or just that she was sorry, and that she was going home.
"Clary!" Jace shouted from somewhere in the woods. She knew it was sort of childish, but she was hiding in the woods, from Jace-she may or may not have shoved him into his pool, while he was fully dressed, and then run away into the woods while he was still under the water.
Clary bit her lip to keep from giggling. This was all way too amusing to her. She could hear the crunching of leaves under his soggy shoes, and the awful squishing noise his shoe made whenever he stepped. Did she forget to mention it was November? Oops.
Clary was much quieter than him-when she wasn't giggling like a mad man-when it came to running, which would make her escape easy. She took off like a shot, careful to avoid big patches of leafs. Clary soon found herself right back in Jace's manicured-to-perfection backyard. Water surrounding his pool, and one of his maids-Clary's personal favourite, Agnes, a sweet old woman, who could cook like nobody's business. She shook her head disapprovingly at Clary, but the small, amused smile she wore, and the look in her eyes told Clary she found this just as funny as she herself did. "Agnes!" Clary squeaked. "Hide me!"
Agnes laughed, and motioned for Clary to follow her. She did so without hesitation. Agnes led her inside the house, "Take off your shoes, and carry them with you," Agnes instructed. Clary peeled off her sneakers, which no doubt would track in at least some mud. The two stopped in front of the basement door. "He never goes down here," Agnes informed her. Clary nodded, "Thanks, Agnes," she said before pushing open the door, and darting down the stairs, holding her shoes tightly.
She fit herself in between the deep freezer, and the cement wall, holding her shoe sin front of her, as her body was squished. Though she was small, the space in between the freezer and the wall was even smaller. She sat there for who knew how long, waiting for Jace to return, it seemed he hadn't yet, and wouldn't for a while. Probably searching the woods for her, she thought. But, no. Jace jumped out from the other side of the wall, wearing an Anonymous mask-where ever he'd found that-and he screamed at her. She jumped, well, tried to, but it proved much more difficult sitting in that small space. The lights flicked on, and Jace took off the mask, and laughed. Hard. Although Clary didn't scream-she was pretty un-scarable, he'd gotten the reaction he wanted.
Finally, after he had his laugh, he offered a hand to Clary, helping her get out of the small space she was wedged into. She scowled at him, although, really she couldn't; she had pushed him into his pool, after all. "You pushed me in my pool," he defended himself. Clary huffed. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," she grumbled.
The dream-or was it a memory?-faded out, and a new one faded in.
It was her birthday, her sixteenth birthday, to be exact. And no, she wasn't throwing some extravagant Sweet Sixteen party, she was simply hanging out with her friends, watching some of her favourite movies, and eating cake. It was perfect. Isabelle sat behind her, braiding her hair, she was always so good at those types of things. There was a bunch of blankets stacked on the floor, with pillows all over them, creating a spot for them to sit, and hang out and watch television. Jace and Alec sat in front of the girls, conversing, while watching whatever show was on.
"Oh!" Jace said, standing up quickly, "I almost forgot," he said. He retrieved a box from the coffee table, and sat back down, facing Clary. His golden hair fell in his eyes slightly, and his golden eyes glowed beautifully. He was smiling, and Clary could see his chipped incisor. It might be an imperfection, but Clary found it kind of cute.
He held the box out to Clary, "Open it," he said. Clary gave him a look, and then the box, before she took it. Isabelle continued to braid her hair, but Clary could feel her leaning over her shoulder slightly to watch, see what was in the box.
Clary pulled off the newspaper wrapping, and the small red bow. Inside, was a crushed velvet box, the colour of blood. Clary looked up at Jace, and hen back down to the box. "I swear, Herondale, if you spent over a hundred dollars on this, I'll smack you." She warned. "Better get it over with now, then," Jace said, and leaned forward, waiting on Clary to slap him. "Jace!" Clary gasped. "I told you I didn't want anything."
He shrugged. "Too late for that."
Clary rolled her eyes, but she couldn't hide how happy she was. She often wondered what she would do without him, but couldn't think about it long, without feeling the backs of her eyes prickle with threatening tears.
Clary lifted the top of the box open, and her mouth opened slightly in shock. "Jace," she said. "It's beautiful," he smiled at her. It was a silver anklet, with small silver balls stuck in place every few centimetres. A loopy C with small diamonds hung from it. "Come here," Jace said. "I'll put it on." Clary put out her right foot to him, and he gently took the anklet from the box, and undid the clasp, redoing it around her ankle. "You know," he said, matter-of-factly. "The lady at the store didn't believe me when I told her how small your ankle was," Clary laughed, and pulled her foot back, admiring the anklet a few moments, before she threw herself on Jace, hugging him tightly. Isabelle huffed at her. "I wasn't done yet," she said, but Clary could hear the smile in her voice. Jace wrapped his arms around Clary's small form, and held her tightly.
"Thank you so much," she said softly, by Jace's ear. "Your so welcome," Jace said, and let her go. "Happy Birthday, Clary," he smiled brightly.
Clary took in a deep breath, her eyes snapping open. It was early morning sometime, the sun was further in the sky than it had been, and there were no bright headlights shining in her rear-view mirror. Clary yawned, and felt everything from her dreams flooding back to her-there had been so many dreams, but two major ones, both including Jace. She couldn't believe it, but she knew it now. She could remember bits and pieces, but it was enough-more than enough. For now, anyways.
Jace is my best friend, she thought, with utter clarity. It was as if someone had sucked out all the fogginess that had surrounded certain memories, and made one thing absolutely clear; I miss my best friend.
She was exhausted, having driven for at least four hours straight. Most likely more, much more. Clary had went above and beyond the speed limit to get back to the house, and it was already getting dark. She let her head rest against the steering wheel a moment, before she pulled the keys out of the ignition, and got out of the car, locking it.
Clary had parked away from the house, so it was a surprise that she was back-although she didn't really know how happy they'd all be to see her. The weather was warm, and the same soft breeze of air blew her hair around behind her head. She walked back to the house, her energy slipping away like sand in an hour glass.
The front door was unlocked, and Clary went right in, just as she always had. The kitchen was in view, and she could see the tired, glum faces of Alec, Magnus, Isabelle, and to her surprise, Jace. Come to think of it, he had surprised her a lot in the last twenty-four hours.
Magnus' head was leaning heavily over a coffee mug, and when he ran a hand through his already messy, glittery hair, glitter rained down in a fine spray onto the counter, and into his mug. Clary certainly didn't want to be the person drinking that coffee. Isabelle and Alec had their heads bent in conversation, as they sat beside each other on the barstools, Alec rubbing Isabelle's back. Jace had sat himself in one of the leather arm chairs, looking tired, just as the rest of them.
"You all look like racoons," Clary commented, and each and everyone of their heads snapped up, eyes locking instantly on Clary, and her disbelieved self. Believe it or not, sleeping in a car, and driving for long periods of time did nothing for the already-there bags under your eyes, your hair, and or your patience. Isabelle jumped off the barstool, and wrapped Clary in a tight hug. "I swear on my high-heel collection, Clarissa, if you ever do that again I'll-" Magnus cut her off.
"Oh, shut it, Iz," he said. "We all knew she'd be fine, and here you were stressing out. We told you she'd come back," Magnus said, a little overly-dramatic for Clary, though. "Now, though, the question remains; why did you come back?"
Clary shrugged, all eyes on her. "Various reasons-one being all the missed calls and texts," she ran her hand along the wall. "Uh-huh, what else?" Magnus prodded, raising a suspicious eyebrow. "I didn't think it would happen," Clary said, being vague on purpose, just to keep the suspense building. She knew she really shouldn't do that to her friends who had probably been up all night worried about her, but it was just too good an opportunity not to. "But it did. Bits and pieces, it started coming back to me last night."
Alec looked around the room, confused, his eyes meeting Jace's, who then shook his head, and shrugged his shoulders, as if to say he had no idea what Clary was talking about. Isabelle and Magnus traded glances, eyeing Clary cautiously, as if they thought she'd completely lost it.
She decided then and there, to stop, to just not say anything to anyone but Jace-from what she remembered, he was good at keeping secrets, staying quiet. "I remember the crash," Clary said, tears that she had been holding in since who knew how long, came out like a waterfall of heartbreak and hurt. Isabelle pulled her back in again, and Clary buried her face in Isabelle's inky hair, and soft shirt.
After everything had settled, and Clary had handed over Isabelle's car keys, they had all went to bed, after eating a very late dinner of take-out from a restaurant further in the small town. It turned out the "small town" was much bigger than they'd thought, they were just in the more rural area of it, a little distance away from the bigger portion of the city. Isabelle had been excited to go shopping, while Magnus' words had grouped together when he'd gotten so excited about buying more glitter, that all it sounded like was a bunch of gibberish. But, that was Magnus for you. And then, of course, Alec and Clary had groaned at the idea of shopping.
Now, though, it was late, and pitch black outside. Not a star, nor the moon pierced the vale of darkness that covered them. Clary tried to be as quiet as possible, as she crept down the stairs at nearly two in the morning. She may be tired, but she was a little scared to go back to sleep, for fear of what she might remember next. Clary knew she could only remember nice, happy things for so long, before the awful memories came back-and she didn't know if she would be able to handle remembering those ones.
There was a faint noise coming from the living room, and Clary had no doubt in her mind that it was Jace watching television at this late at night. She reached the bottom of the stairs, and turned into the living room, to find Jace; his feet propped up on the wooden coffee table, and his arms stretched out across the back of the couch, on either side of him. He looked tired, like he wanted to sleep, but wouldn't let himself.
"Jace," she squeaked, against her will. "Can we talk?"
Jace turned his head, he looked surprised to see her. He shrugged, and Clary took this as a yes, and sat herself beside him on the couch, her position the one she'd have to sit in during school; criss cross apple sauce. "You won't tell anyone, will you?" She found herself asking. Jace looked at her, his brows creasing together in the center of his forehead. "I won't tell you if you're going to tell anyone else," Clary warned. This, got his attention fully, and he removed his legs from the coffee table, and set his hands in his lap. "Depend what it is," he said. "I guess I'll just have to take a chance then," Clary said, more to herself than to Jace.
He looked at her expectantly, and Clary moved her leg, to reveal the silver anklet she always wore. "Do you remember this?" She asked. Recognition flashed in his eyes, but then was gone, like a ghost. He shook his head, no. "Liar," Clary blurted. Jace raised an eyebrow at her, and she continued, "You bought me this," she said. Jace looked unconvinced. "On my sixteenth birthday, when I told you not to buy me anything. I haven't taken it off since, and could never remember why, only that I couldn't-wouldn't."
Jace's expression was unreadable, so Clary went on, "I pushed you into your pool, in mid-November, and then you tried to scare me by jumping out from behind a wall in your basement, while wearing an Anonymous mask. Remember that?" Clary raised her eyebrows at him, waiting for a response.
"Doesn't ring a bell," Jace said, looking bored. Fine, Clary thought, let's see if you remember this...
"I'm sure it doesn't," Clary dead panned, "so, are you really going to tell me you don't remember me the night when we watched Friday The 13th, and I fell asleep practically on top of you?"
Jace paled at this, and Clary raised her arms in triumph. "Ha!" She quietly shouted-if that was possible. "I knew you remembered."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Jace said, but his voice was so low Clary had to strain to hear it. "Fine," Clary said, slapping her hands against her thighs in exasperation. "Tell me, who else would know that," Jace looked over at her, his expression un-decipherable, his aureate eyes burning, as if there were a raging fire on the inside of him. A war going on in his head, it seemed. He stayed silent, save for his deep breaths every few seconds. It was obvious, by the look on his face that he wasn't going to say anything for a long time-if he was going to speak at all. Which Clary doubted very much.
"Okay, so we're going to pretend you don't remember? Sounds good," Clary said, and stood up. She suddenly wasn't in the mood for conversation anymore, not with Jace, anyways. "Hope you enjoy being all alone," she spat bitterly, before she left the living room, and mounted the wooden steps, feeling the smooth wood grain under her bare feet. For some reason, though, here was a nagging at the back of her head that told her he wouldn't act like this for long, that something would change. All Clary could do was hope-hope that she remembered the rest of whatever it was she was missing.
Whew! That took quite a few hours to write.
First of all, guys, I'm so sorry about the time gap between updates-there really is no excuse for me taking this long to update, especially with the free time I had on the weekends. But I just couldn't get the right words-and looks like I finally did!
I really hope you all liked this chapter, because another one should be coming within the next few days.
I'm really going to try and keep the updates coming at a normal rate-not a few within a couple days, and then the next one a week or two later. Promise.