DISCLAIMER: ugh, as much as I wish I owned TMI. . . nope.
Chapter Two: Infamous
How am I supposed to see through your eyes
When you never even saw the stars were falling at your feet?
—Of Mice & Men, "Glass Hearts"
A surprising bout of pure sunlight splayed lazily through the bay window in Clarissa's room. She mumbled incomprehensibly for a second before the persistent brightness prompted her out of bed. Squinting in disbelief, she eyed the cloudless sky, expecting buckets of pouring rain any minute. After all, it was England. She considered flopping back into bed just to irritate Father for another ten minutes before he forcibly dragged her kicking and screaming out of it, but then a thought hit her.
My punishment is over! Elated, Clarissa flung open the door to her room, not caring about the way it noisily rebounded against its frame and the snappish "Clarissa!" from halfway down the empty, serene corridor. She all but sprinted down the winding staircase, methodically composing herself once she reached the foot. Instead of earnestly leaping into the sitting room, she mechanically hastened the spring in her step, turning the liveliness to a practiced grace Father expected from her.
Just like Clarissa predicted, her father was seated elegantly in the most uncomfortable wooden chair in the entire room. Sitting in it always gave her a backache within five minutes. I bet the only reason he likes it is so he can look like royalty in his expertly carved throne.
"Good morning, Clarissa." His newspaper with a black-and-white photo adorning the front page stayed resolutely in front of his face. She took in the stack of newspapers and the small mug of coffee with sugar and cream to his left on the small and just as intricately carved side table. He's probably been here for a while.
"Good morning, Father," Clarissa answered respectfully. She stood stoically before him, wavering whether to sneak out of the stuffy silence or wait and listen to his surely reprimanding lecture. Another five minutes ticked by, slow as Lilith at five AM sharp, before the newspaper was finally lowered from his cold features.
"Why are you not in your room?" A dangerous glint sparked his irises and Clarissa shoved her anxiety further into its shallow grave.
"Yesterday was the last day of my punishment. Sir." She barely remembered to add on the "sir" at the end, fearing what was unfold if she had forgotten.
Her father's stare was penetrating and blank. It sliced through her like a million little blades, his beady, black eyes narrowing in a half-angry, half-inquisitive manner. She squirmed; a helpless insect caught under a microscope. After what felt like an excessively stretched-out hour to Clarissa, her father dropped his gaze like a bag of stones. "Very well." The words came out crisp and polished, nearly professional. "I trust you have learned your lesson?"
"I have, Father." Clarissa didn't want to quiver in her shoes, but she couldn't help it. Her father had a frightening quality that hung about him. It made her feel like her heart was sliding down to her shoes and a pack of carnivorous wolves to erupt in her insides. Any time she was pinned like a butterfly underneath his intense scrutiny, fear prickled in her, playing the role of a rather nasty bush of thorns.
"Excellent." His voice dropped lethally. "Next time, I shall not be quite so. . . lenient."
"Yes, Father." Clarissa felt like she was monotonously reciting lines from a script. "I understand perfectly, Father."
"Off you go, then." The newspaper was back up in the place of a sharply-tipped gate clanging back down. She blinked at him once, twice before the coffee turned into his crocodile-infested moat and had to resist the strong compulsion to bolt out of there. Barely keeping a forceful grip on her self-control, Clarissa edged her way out of the room, singing the praises of newspapers. As she approached the stairs, Lilith was waiting for her on the first landing.
"Hello, Lilith," Clarissa said, taking in the imposing figure of her sister on the landing.
"We need to talk."
Huh. For once in a million years, it's not raining. A cynical smirk rose to Jace's mouth as he stared out the window. As cynical as he enjoyed being, it was simply too pure and lovely of a day to waste away by spending his time in school. The natural thing to do was use the much-abused lavatory pass to stroll out the front doors of hell. The only reason he stopped by the lavatory was to swing the ugly plastic pass in the third toilet stall. He smirked at one of the office aides.
When he passed by his house, two of the windows in the Morgenstern Manor were lit up even though there was no need for artificial light in the bright, brilliant morning. Jace stopped his saunter to gaze at them with interest; silhouetted in one window was the slender form of a girl. He could vaguely make out the shape of a tall boy next to her. Heavy wine-colored drapes had been drawn over the second window. But in the highest window of the entire house, he could see a girl staring bleakly out of it, her scarlet hair a fury about her pale oval of a face. Jace reluctantly tore himself away from the Morgenstern Manor as he headed back into the woods.
Clary?
She sounded gloomy, lifeless almost. Jace.
What's wrong?
Nothing. Everything, I suppose.
Jace paused before he replied gently, Want to talk about it?
I don't know if you'd get it. Jace felt himself stiffen at her answer. He assumed she noticed the tensing of his mind because a flood of reassurance followed his reaction. I didn't mean it like that, Jace! I only meant that our lives are so vastly different that it's hard for me to explain these things to someone who isn't involved.
Try me.
He could feel the defeated sigh sweeping through her body. All right. Let's start at the beginning, shall we? My parents hate me.
They can't hate you! Jace was taken aback. To the best of his knowledge, it seemed impossible that anyone could loathe Clary. She was delightfully witty with a brilliant, fiery personality with an enigmatic quality buzzing about her that drew him towards her. There was truly nothing to dislike about her.
Believe me, they do. I'm a disappointment to them because I didn't turn out like one of my. . . um, relatives.
But they shouldn't judge you based on your relative! Jace insisted, his mind with Clary but his eyes following the rise and fall of the forest's breathing. Your parents sound like they're full of bullshit.
She laughed darkly. That they may be, but it isn't as if I can even do anything about it. Listen, I have to go. My. . . relative is calling.
He easily picked up on her transparent lie—she never had been good at lying—but let it go. Whenever she tried to keep things from him, he always knew she had a good reason to.
The following morning was a Friday, and it dawned crisp and early. Far too early for Jace, as a matter of fact.
Sodding Alec, making me come to school. I think I actually hate him, Jace snarled to himself as he crammed himself inside the school's doors. He felt like a sardine; packed into a small space as tightly as possible and squirming until his eyes turned big and empty. When he reached the main corridor, the crowds and clumps of people had already parted like the Red Sea. A fusion of relief surged through Jace; perhaps he wouldn't be the primary object of interest and gossip for once in his short lifetime. Down at the end of the hall were two girls trailing after a blonde boy, who was trailblazing a path through the crush of students like his life depended on it. As the trio stalked closer to Jace, he could see them in greater detail.
The blonde boy was tall, arrogant, intimidating. He had an air of too much charisma that was darker than his eyes and a head of hair that was paler than his skin tone. The two girls were clearly sisters and could've been twins: their hair was red—carroty, scarlet, bloodred—and the same graceful splay of freckles across their noses. One girl was taller and the other shorter, dwarfed in comparison to the elegant blonde boy and the pretty redheaded sister. As diverse as the trio was, they all had one thing in common: their clothing choice and their skin. The girls were clad in ancient-looking, Victorian dresses with faded colors like those of old photographs while the boy's clothing was creased and faded; small white lines spidering out from pocketmarks in the fabric. And they had abnormally pale skin, almost as if all of their life had been spent inside. Odd.
A plethora of whispers clung to the three of them like snow as they passed by, regal and uncaring to the world like they couldn't hear a word anyone was saying.
"Who let the monsters into our school?"
"What are they doing here?"
"My daddy'll hear about this! He'll get them expelled for sure!"
"The Morgenstern siblings need to find a school that accepts freaks only."
Hmmm, Jace mused. So that's who they were. The infamous Morgensterns, who, according to schoolyard gossip, had just rolled into the slumbering town of St. Arren's less than a week ago. Except what was wrong with them? Why did every hate them? He didn't understand. What had the Morgenstern siblings ever done to anyone?
But, of course, he didn't say any of that out loud. Even if someone could read his mind, his opinion wouldn't matter to the mass student body. They would always continue on in their shunning of him, of the Morgensterns, of anyone they deemed unworthy like a pack of angry, vindictive alley cats.
If it was him, he would've snapped at some of the nasty whisperers to shut up. But each of the Morgenstern siblings kept walking, their features cool and expressionless, their backs rod-straight, and their eyes devoid of life and laughter.
"Why does everyone hate the Morgensterns so much?" Jace found himself asking Alec during their lunch period. Sitting opposite him, Alec shifted uncomfortably, the other boy's dark hair falling into his eyes.
"It isn't my place to tell you," Alec mumbled awkwardly, playing with the pen between his fingers.
"To hell with that!" snapped Jace indignantly. "Why am I the only person in St. Arren's being kept in the dark? Everyone else seems to know every little detail about the Morgensterns the minute one of their feet touched this town's soil."
"Maryse and Robert don't want you to know."
"Why not?" He masked his features into a carefully indifferent expression.
"They say it's the best for you."
"Why are they deciding what's best for me?" Jace asked coolly.
Alec stared at him like he was a foreign person he'd never met before in his life. "Look, Jace, they're you're parents, all right?"
"You think I don't know that?" Jace couldn't control the cruel tone that crept stealthily into the plains of his voice. "That doesn't give them any right to decide that for me. If I want to know, then I bloody will."
If she was anyone else, Clarissa would have shifted anxiously under her newly found classmates' stares, glares, and menacing whispers about her and her family. Except she was someone— a someone whose list of personality traits most certainly didn't have "easily intimidated" written anywhere near it. So her reaction was to let the ugly comments slide glassily off her like water, leaving her refreshed and observant afterwards. She hadn't been born in the tiny, English town of St. Arren's, but she could instantly tell that the townspeople knew how to hold grudges and that they were frightened of her, Lilith, and Jonathan. Some of their logic registered with Clarissa, but she couldn't comprehend other halves of it. She knew what her family had done to this town, but she never had any part in it.
Clarissa knew that the constant, repetitious fear and turmoil twisted between her family and St. Arren's went as far back as anyone could remember. Her father and mother had never enlightened her on the concise details, but she knew enough. Her family had caused awful misfortune to St. Arren's and its people for many years. When Valentine Morgenstern and his cousin, Lucian Graymark, grew up in Morgenstern Manor together, the town knew them as the Light and Dark Brothers. Lucian was more openly friendly than Valentine, while Valentine was darkly charming and charismatic. Lucian was the sunshine with a kind word for everyone while Valentine lurked in the shadows, coldly splitting up charm for whoever was weak or brave enough to speak to him.
When Jocelyn Fairchild, Lucian's best friend, moved into the Morgenstern Manor at fifteen, she was portrayed rather like Valentine: cold, pretty, and acted like every blade of grass, every wisp of dawn sunlight, every breath of wind, and seemingly everything in St. Arren's belonged to her. Nobody understood why Jocelyn was ever friends with Lucian. It came as no surprise that she married Valentine Morgenstern when they were both eighteen. The real surprise was Lucian Graymark's murder. Shortly after Valentine and Jocelyn's wedding, Lucian was found in the weirwood with his entrails spilling out from a gash in his stomach. The killer had never been found. Most suspected whoever it was had gotten tangled in their great escape and was either killed or vanished without a trace.
A month after they were married, the Morgensterns abandoned their ancestral home. Not a single person from St. Arren's or anywhere else could figure out where they had gone. Clarissa knew, though. Her mother and father hadn't been murdered— she and Lilith grew up with Valentine and Jonathan was raised by Jocelyn. The first time all three siblings met each other was when Clarissa and Lilith were eleven and Jonathan was twelve. Their mother and father rejoined each other when Lilith and Clarissa were thirteen and Jonathan was fourteen. And now, for a reason unknown to Clarissa, they were back in Morgenstern Manor three years later. She never bothered to ask her father why they went back to the Manor, why he only raised her and Lilith, why he and her mother went separate directions for a few years because her Father would have surely beaten her or worse. Curiosity was not welcomed in the Manor or anywhere else. It had cost Clarissa many bruises and scars when she was younger and sometimes still did. Lilith was much less impulsive and quick-thinking; Clarissa frequently tended to spit out whatever thought lingered closest to the front of her mind.
She couldn't tell if Lilith was bothered much by their classmates' snide remarks, but Jonathan obviously wasn't. In the relatively short amount of time she'd known her brother, his first quality was that most mundane things never mattered to him. He was standing straight on a pedestal while the common folk fought beneath him.
Clarissa shook of her thoughts as she walked slowly into her maths classroom. Everyone else had already taken a seat. The only open one was next to a girl with blonde, silky hair and enormous blue eyes. Clarissa tensed; something felt off about the blue-eyed girl. Her eyes are too. . . unnerving. Ignoring the teacher's burning stare, she cautiously sat next to the blonde girl, her back rigidly straight and hands folded in her lap just like Father instructed her.
"Helen Blackthorn."
A slender girl with— Clarissa blinked, hard. She opened her eyes very slowly, and like a trick of the light, the strange tips of the girl's ears were back to normal, her white-blonde hair tucked neatly behind them.
"Magnus Bane."
"Maureen Brown."
Somewhere near the eighth name, she lost count. Her mind blurred into flurries of her father, his imposing, white-haired figure floating restlessly through channels in her mind.
"I apologize, Father, I do not understand—"
"Quiet, Lilith!"
"She was only asking a question!"
"Quiet, Clarissa! What is so hard to understand about this? You and Jonathan are going to attend school, whether you like it or not." A hidden threat lay barely concealed in his snarl of a voice. "Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal." Clarissa's hands worried the sleeves of her sweater. Jonathan smirked, flipping his white-blonde hair in pure arrogance. Lilith's shoes clicked louder than the heels she poached inside her flimsy bookbag.
"Shut up, Jona—"
Her side stung. She could most certainly feel a purpling bruise forming on her ribcage from the blonde girl beside her. Gasping, Clarissa tore herself out of her memory and looked up. The entire class was staring at her as if she was a sort of exotic animal, prowling in a steel enclosure to be gazed upon in fascination and terror. The teacher stood near the blackboard, his eyes narrowed in mingled fear and loathing as he rapped sharply onto his clipboard.
"I repeat, Clarissa Morgenstern?"
She raised her hand, poker stiff, into the air. "Present, sir."
His expression was one of someone taken aback. With a sheepish scratch-slash noise, he made a mark on the role call sheet and Clarissa was close to sinking into her seat like any other person. Instead, she remained rigid and straight-backed in her equally immobile chair.
Just like Father taught me.
Quickly glancing around the cramped room, she surveyed the class. Everyone else but her was wearing matching clothing: a tie with presumably the school's crest, skirts for the girls and slacks for the boys, and starched white shirts. She supposed she stuck out like a sore thumb. First of all, she was a Morgenstern, and second of all, her clothing was on the opposite end of the spectrum— loose, rainy-grey dress and a torn, ratty green sweater that landed mid-thigh.
Sitting next to Clarissa was the blonde girl with pointy elbows and enormous blue eyes. The pair next to them was Helen Blackthorn, the first name in roll call, and a lanky boy with brown, curly hair and black glasses. She could see a strange, overly colorful book tucked between the pages of his hefty maths textbook. In front of them sat two boys: one with spiky, glittery hair. The pretty sparkles kept falling from his hair onto his shirt and all over the chair and the floor on either side of him. The glittery boy's partner was a petite girl with spidery limbs and dishwater blonde hair. Clarissa could see her tugging the bottom of her rainbow-knit hat down every so often like a repetitive habit. On Clarissa's right was a girl with smooth brown skin and hair that was tightly coiled into springy curls and a boy with aureate eyes and a conceited, bored expression playing out over his face. For some unknown reason, she instantly disliked him. He seemed so supercilious, so arrogant that it made her want to (quite literally) slap some sense into his stupid features.
As the teacher launched into a dull lecture about something called "radicals," Clarissa moved her pencil lazily across a page of loose-leaf paper to make it appear like she was doing something. Instead, she sketched a diamond. Before she knew what she was doing, curved lines were sprouting off the diamond like roots, except they grew thicker and sharper and more defined by the second and—
Her pencil slammed back onto the desk with a shattering noise as it promptly broke in half. Some of the lead came out, rolling madly on the desk's surface. Half the heads in the room turned in Clarissa's direction as she stared fiercely at the paper. Her temples hurt; she could practically feel her head being pounded with a wooden club.
"Is there a problem, Miss Morgenstern?"
"No, I was just— I was only—" Clarissa stuttered before she instantaneously corrected herself, Father's voice biting at her conscience. Stop stammering and control yourself! "It was nothing. Sir."
Once again, the corridor crowds parted for the three Morgensterns like they were lepers; like they had a deadly disease one could catch from being five feet away from one of them. All Jace could see was three people: the boy, tall and intimidating with cold flames flaring to life in his black eyes, the first girl who was statuesque and effortlessly lovely with bold scarlet hair, and the second girl, who was short and small with long, carroty hair and a handful of freckles. They didn't look dangerous; none of them at all. From all the rumors of "I saw the blonde one with a knife first period!" and "Those girls are gonna kill me!" circulating the air vents at the school, Jace was expecting something more like a serial killer when he saw their faces for the first time. Instead, they looked. . . curiously normal, if not for the outdated wardrobe and odd style of behaving. The three Morgensterns carried themselves like they had something to prove to the entire universe and looked as if they would rather shoot up into deep space instead of flitting the dirty carpets at school.
Hey Clary, he said during English.
Her voice was warm and relieved. Hi Jace. How are you today?
Bored. Very, very bored. Who cares about sentence clauses? I'm skiving off during lunch.
Sounds delightful. Her sarcasm came through loud and clear. He couldn't fight back the automatic grin that stretched his mouth and immediately looked at the floor; no way was he accidently smiling at the professor ever again. Can I ask you something?
You just did, Clary.
You're impossible. Clary sighed, although Jace knew her well enough to tell that she wasn't really irritate with him.
Go ahead.
Why do you dislike school so much?
Why? Jace repeated, gathering his thoughts. Because it's like a prison to me. I hate all of it: the judgmental glares, the gossip, the teachers treating me unfairly. Every damn time it's like someone take away the key and throws it into a well and I wind up in this hell. He paused. I didn't mean for that to rhyme.
Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't intend to bring all of that up. Clary did sound genuinely sorry, but one of the qualities Jace liked so much about her was that she never had apologies infused with dripping bucketfuls of pity. He hated pity.
It's not your fault.
Don't be sad just because the system's broken. We could fix it!
Impossible, he replied wryly.
Oh, all right, perhaps it is. I was just trying to cheer you up.
Good luck with that.
Still ditching school?
Jace answered without any hesitation. Of course I am. I'm getting sick and tired of listening to this random prat blabber on about clauses and participles and I-really-don't-give-a-crap sort of things.
Have fun. One last peal of laughter rang in Jace's ears before she dropped out of his mind like a weight. Except it was as if she'd taken a pinch of him with her; he could feel that something was empty, something was missing.
He shrugged.
It's probably nothing. Whatever. You can always talk to her again soon.
SECOND CHAPTER DONE! And it didn't even take me that long! What is this sorcery?!
Exclamations from the internet aside, how's I'm Falling to Pieces going? Too boring/slow? Yeah, I feel you. Believe me, I'm dying to Jace and Clary to meet, but I can't randomly pop in "OMG! And then Jace saw Clary! eeeeeee!" Okay, so maybe it wouldn't sound like that. Eh, close enough.
Huge thanks to all readers, reviewers, followers, and favoriters! You guys make the world go round :) If I could, I link y'all up to Jace's mind too! Sadly, that's not how reality works :(
Also, I have story ideas listed on my profile, so can you pretty please go and check them out? Pleaseeeee?
A lot of people really want the Clockwork Academy and COTF updates out. I hear ya, they're coming, I'm working on it. . . albeit slowly (sorry, blame writer's block!).
ANYONE WHO REVIEWS GETS SNEAK PEEK OF CHAPTER THREE. LET ME UNDERLINE THAT SINCE I KNOW DARN WELL MOST OF YOU DON'T READ A/N: ANYONE WHO REVIEWS GETS A SNEAK PEEK. *insert arrow here*
Angel:First off, I never really thought people would find this story that interesting, but I'm very glad you do! Second of all, enjoy the update :) Thanks for reviewing!
Luvmortalinstruments:Hope Chp.2 is equally as interesting and you'll find out. . . someday. *evil laugh* Thanks for the review :D
Guest:Thank you! And thanks for reviewing too!
SocialisesWithBooks:Do I know why this review made me make a very squeaky noise of happiness? Not precisely. But believe me, I am thrilled that you're hooked! Thanks for the review :)
Jling:I hope Chp.2's wait wasn't that long :P Thanks for reviewing :)
wood painted flesh:Thanks :) And I absolutely LOVE that series! Has the next book come out yet? I can't find it anywhere, so I'm assuming not. Who's your favorite character? Mine's probably Jared for some odd reason. (Sorry, I get really excited when talking about books haha.) Thanks for reviewing :)
bookwormlover4ever:I shall do my best :) Thanks for the review!
Guest:Hope you like Chp.2 as well :) Thanks for reviewing!
xp:Haha that's my goal! Thanks for reviewing!
AllieCat234:First, your screen name is really cute (that sounded better in my head). Enjoy the update :) Thanks for the review!
Guest:How's the update? I'm happy you like it! Thanks for reviewing :)
varomitrivia:Woah I'm really excited that you like it that much omg! Sorry the CA and COTF updates are gonna be late :( Thanks for the review :)