"And throw me away"
Jace
I wander the streets, not really sure what to do. After midnight, I circle back to the house, climb up the ladder I used when I repaired my window yesterday and get in the house by opening the stupid thing I replaced. I hear Max screaming but I hear Izzy call to him, saying she'll be right there. I feel a tad better about leaving. As much as I hate to leave my little brother, I'm glad someone is taking care of him. Since I'm technically homeless now, my grades are more important than ever, so I throw my textbooks, binders and supplies into my backpack and leave everything else in the room. They can keep it.
…
As I walk around, trying to figure out what to do, I think about the Lightwoods.
"Hi Jonathan, I'm Maryse Lightwood." Maryse says the first time we meet in the foster home. After my dad had died, I was put into the system. I'd already been to one foster home that couldn't handle me and my expectations weren't very high when I see her fancy get-up.
"Don't call me Jonathan." I tell her, looking back down at Journey to the Center of the Earth by Jules Verne.
Her eyes frown but her face morphs into a fake smile. "What would you like to be called instead?" She asks.
"Jace." I reply.
"Okay, Jace, I'm here to talk to you. Is that okay?"
"It's a free country." I shrug, trying to find my place in the book again.
She giggles, causing her dangly earrings to rattle around her ears. "You're a riot." She says.
You don't know the half of it lady.
"I have a son around your age. His name is Alec and he's a year older, but I'm sure you two will get along. My daughter, Isabelle is only a year younger than you." She tells me.
"Well isn't that swell?" I mutter.
"I have another son, Max. He's only two but he's a rather smart two year-old according to our nanny." She continues, ignoring me.
I don't reply. Who cares that she has an infant?
Then Maryse reveals a bit of her true colors. She yanks the book out of my hands and says, "Listen, I'm about to take you home with me so let's get something straight. You're going to treat my husband and me with respect. You won't cause trouble. You'll get along with your future foster siblings and act like they're your own but you will not, under any circumstances, share your tendency to misbehave. I've been told you're quite bright so you will be expected to make stellar grades and nothing less than A's if you wish to live in my house. Do I make myself clear?"
She reminds me a bit of my father, so I nod in confirmation.
I probably should've realized that Maryse Lightwood is a snake, but her frank form of speech was a comfort to a kid who had been lied to, and given high expectations, only to have them crushed by social workers invading the house simply because he went to school with a bruise after being rightfully punished for breaking a plate. I was being clumsy and stupid and deserved punishment-or so I thought. The social workers, followed by psychologists, insisted that I understand that I shouldn't have been hit like that. It confused me and I'm still unsure about whether or not my father's methods of teaching were appropriate. I have come to terms with the fact that the Peterson father hitting me was not right. He wasn't my real father and had no right to lay a hand on me. The social workers and psychologists thought he was wrong because he hit me, but I think there's more to it than that. It's confusing.
Maryse brings me to the front door and has me knock. When her husband answers the door, she says, "This is my husband, Robert."
"You can call me Mr. Lightwood." Robert Lightwood tells me, sizing me up. He looks ready to take me away from his home and throw me away, back to the system. Maybe it's because I'm tall and thin, with a mop of curling, shaggy golden hair so not particularly tough-looking, maybe it's because Maryse didn't ask him about this ahead of time, or maybe it's because he knows what I saw and doesn't want a basket-case in his house. Whatever the reason, Robert Lightwood immediately decides he does not like me.
"You can call me Jace." I reply. It's okay. I don't like him either.
His cold stare only intensifies.
Maryse ushers me inside and says, "Kids? Get down here!"
A boy walks over to us. He has blue eyes, short black hair and he's a little shorter than I am even though he's a year older. Maybe that's why Robert doesn't like me.
"Hi, I'm Alec." The boy says.
"Jace." I say.
A little girl peers around the corner, long dark hair flies through the air as she ducks away when she notices I'm looking at her.
"That's Izzy. She's a little shy, but once she gets used to you she doesn't stop talking." Alec smiles.
I nod to let him know I heard him.
"You don't talk much do you?" He asks.
I shake my head.
"Looks like she'll talk enough for the both of you then." He smiles.
I want to smile, but I also really want to dislike this kid. Father says, "To love is to destroy and to be loved is to be the one destroyed." That means love kills. I killed my father because I loved him. I won't go loving anyone else and kill them too. It's wrong.
There's a thump and crying is heard in the hallway across from the front door. A toddler has fallen and is crying, looking right at Maryse.
"Get up. Don't be such a baby." She says, rolling her eyes.
"He is a baby Mom." Alec tells her, looking concerned.
"He won't be one forever and can't get used to acting like one." She points to the toddler. "See? He's getting up all on his own."
The toddler walks over to me and smiles. His baby teeth are starting to come in so he gives me a toothy grin full of gaps. He's got glasses already, which is kind of funny since he's a baby. How can the doctors tell he already needs glasses?
"This attention-seeker is Max." Maryse says. She doesn't seem too fond of her toddler anymore. Actually, she doesn't look to fond of any of us.
In hindsight, all the signs pointed to the way things turned out between all of us. I was just too stupid to notice.
"Why can't you be more like Jace?" Robert Lightwood yells.
"You want me to get in trouble with the teachers for acting out all the time?" Alec demands.
"It would be better than you getting beat up all the time! You're a disgrace to the Lightwood name!"
"You're the disgrace! Insisting your children misbehave rather than be bullied!"
"Go to your room!"
"Gladly!"
Alec storms into his room and despite myself, I follow him in there. I have only been here for a year, but I'm already at a crossroads. Should I befriend Alec like I so desperately want to? Or do I kick him while he's down so he never tries to be nice to me again?
"Alec?" I ask, not sure what I'm about to do.
"What do you want?" Alec asks as I open the door.
"To talk."
"About what?"
"Your dad's mean."
"No he's not. He's right. I need to stop being so wimpy."
"You should stand up for yourself, but going out of your way to be a pain is only going to get you the wrong kind of attention."
He looks at me and I realize with a start that he's crying. "You always act out." He says.
"I want the wrong kind of attention." I tell him.
"Why?" He asks.
I shrug. So people don't destroy me by loving me and so I don't stop long enough to get to know anyone in a way that causes me to love them and then destroy them.
"You're gonna be really lonely if you keep acting the way you do Jace." Alec says.
"I don't have to be lonely." I say. "You don't either."
"What do you mean?" Alec asks.
"We could be friends. Then we could be lonely together." I suggest.
Alec smiles for the first time since some idiot tossed him in a trashcan two weeks ago.
It's kind of funny how in the midst of a fight with people who are supposed to be important, it's the good memories of them that leave an aching sensation in one's chest.
"Where are you going?" I demand.
"Anywhere I want." Alec says, annoyance clear in his voice.
"Why? Why are you leaving us again?" I yell.
"Because I want to. I'm eighteen and the law is that I can go wherever I please and do whatever I want. Now let me through." Alec seethes. He shoves past me and stomps through the front door, closing it with a slam.
The bad memories seem to cushion the blow of the good ones. Maybe it's because the bad memories fuel the fire of the fight in the first place.
