PoV Clary

I jumped on my bed and pulled my blanket up to cover my chest, my back to the wall.

Simon scrambled for his glasses, turning on the light in the progress. His dark chocolate eyes widened looking at me, his cheeks growing pink with heat. He pulled his duvet up to cover his bare chest, mimicking my actions. He sat still, and then shifted awkwardly, moving his feet from under him.

"Who… what… who are you?" he asked after a pregnant silence.

"My name is Clary," I said.

"Fray?" His head snapped up, his fingers clutching his blanket tightly.

"Yeah… How did you know?"

"You… don't remember…" It wasn't a question; it was a statement, filled with such sadness that it broke my heart. "Well, why would you? It's been years…"

"What?"

His breath came out in a sigh, long and low. His fingers picked at the blanket, picking off extra pieces of fluff. I shifted slightly in my bed, reaching to the floor for my shirt. I slipped it over my head, watching as Simon's eyes grew wider. His cheeks grew pinker, his fingers picking at his blanket more furiously.

"Simon Lewis," I said slowly, the rusted cogs in my head starting to turn. "You were the boy who was forced to eat a worksheet in the third grade, and you threw up on my backpack. I… right?"

He smiled ruefully, and nodded, his curls bobbing. "And you punched me," he whispered.

"I hated you, for exactly three days and nine hours, and then I punched you again, saying, 'Jerk, you puked on Peter Pan,' and then I took your hand and we went to lunch." I smiled. "You were my best friend for two years, and then you moved to Philadelphia. I didn't forget about you."

He looked up at me, a small hopeful smile playing across his lips. "Really?"

"You changed, Simon. You look different. And even if I had realized it was you, what would I have done?" I asked.

"You could have told me!" he said.

"Yeah, 'cause that would have worked. 'Hey, Simon, it's me, Clary! Remember me? We were best friends, and now I'm disguised as a boy to come to this school!'"

He laughed, his cheeks losing some of their redness. "I'm afraid to say I would have believed you. It was something you'd do back then, so why not now?"

I smiled. "Will you tell anyone?"

"No." His answer was immediate. He seemed to not want to question my logic, why I was there, well, that was my business, not his, but he would stick with me.

"Thank you," I said softly.

"Can… Can I ask you one thing?"

"Sure."

"Are you transgender?" His eyes were wide, and he looked slightly lost.

"No," I answered. "I'm one hundred percent girl."

"Oh," he said. "It's just, you seem really comfortable in your get up, and you don't in that."

"The bra?" I laughed. "I'm not comfortable at all right now, but that's because I was caught without my top on by an old friend."

He laughed.

There was a knock on the door. I pulled my duvet up higher, covering myself, even though I wasn't very obvious under my shirt. It was Magnus, at the door, so I lowered my blanket. His eye brows raised a fraction, and he strode into the room.

"Can I help you?" Simon asked.

"No, but I wanted to talk to Cain," Magnus said, sitting on my bed.

"It's okay, he knows," I said, really to Simon but Magnus understood it, too.

"This isn't a secret you can throw around willy-nilly, Clarissa, you need to be more, well… secretive," he said, his golden green eyes shining in the lamp light.

"It was an accident," I growled. "What did you want?"

"You left your phone, and I wanted to talk more about Alec."

"He likes you," I said. "He told me so." I had a shooing motion with my hands. "Now go, Simon and I were reminiscing."

He pouted, and flopped on my bed. "No."

I didn't even bother. Simon sat down again, and we talked well into the night about our multiple adventures as children. He told me about his friends in Philly, and I told him about my friends in Boston. I can't exactly remember falling asleep, but when I woke up, Magnus had wrapped an arm around me, and Simon was sat by the side of my bed, his head resting on my mattress.