I Hate You (IN EDITING)

Chapter 17

Clary dropped to the ground, crouching as she did so, so the impact wouldn't come on so strong, but it didn't do much. At all. Her feet stung, and pain shot up through her back. Luckily for her, though, it was gone in a few seconds. Jace looked fairly amused by it all; a smirk rested on his features, his arms crossed over his chest. His golden hair shining in the sun-that was setting, at the moment. The wind had turned cold, almost bitter, blowing the leafs on branches.
"Still don't believe me?" Clary asked, straightening her posture.
"Oh, I believe you," Jace said. "I just-no, I don't believe you. Where's that ladder?" Clary rolled her eyes and walked over to him. "I scared you," she mused.
"You did not," Jace protested. "Just think about how you would feel if you were walking around the woods looking for me, and I swung down from a tree."
"Jace, I'm about five-foot-three, and you're scared of me?"
"Have you met you?" He joked.
The memories came in and out, like a slideshow. It was like watching a movie of someone's life, only, it was her life, parts of it she didn't remember. There were memories of her and Jace, doing almost any activity normal teenagers did with their friends, things that seemed impossible to forget-especially when it was your best friend but, there Clary had been; clueless, oblivious, and not a person willing to tell her what she was missing out on.

"Isabelle!" Clary hissed, "Eyes on the road, damn it. You almost ran into that lamp post." It was a snowy night-no, scratch that. It was blizzard weather, and there Clary and Isabelle were, sitting in Isabelle's car, narrowly avoiding crashing into things as they drove on. They were supposed to meet Jace, at his house-which was all the way across New York-for movie night, but Clary wasn't so sure it was a good idea anymore. "Sorry," Isabelle said, her tone apologetic, her eyes on the road.
It was silent, for a moment, and then Isabelle briefly turned her head to look at Clary, and bit her lip, "You kissed him," she said. Clary raised her eyebrows, paling quite visibly, an unnaturally white colour. "W-what?" Clary choked out, trying to regain her composure. "Jace-you kissed him. Or did Alec just flat out lie to me?" Isabelle's eyes flickered to Clary again, while Clary's nails left crescent indents in her palms, as Isabelle's car started swerving off the road. "Iz!" Clary squeaked. Isabelle cursed loudly, and jerked the wheel, sending her car back into the lane. Though not many people were crazy enough to drive in blizzard weather, there still was a lot of cars, mostly taxi's, driving around. Some honked their horns at Isabelle, but really, they were doing it too.
"Isabelle, if we survive this drive, I'll tell you anything you want to know. But until that happens, please just try to focus, please?" Clary pleaded. Isabelle nodded curtly, her eyes sharpening, her gaze concentrated on the road ahead of her. It was near impossible, though; the blizzard had started, it seemed, because heavy snow blew around in the strong wind, covering the windshield, large snowflakes raining down at a rapid pace. The road was coated in a thick, fresh layer of ice-water that had frozen, from the snow melting only a few days ago. Clary shivered just looking at it.
She didn't think they'd make it, not without crashing. A half hour later-much longer than it would have taken, without the blizzard-Isabelle let out a heavy breath, pulling her BMW onto the side of the road in front of a large house, coated in snow-just like everything else. Lights shone through the windows, giving off a warm, cozy glow.
"He probably thinks we died on the way, we took so long," Isabelle joked, but a hint of seriousness crept into her voice.
"Yeah," Clary said, her hand gripping the latch that would open her door, expose her to the freezing cold winter air.
Isabelle shut off the car, the warm air that had been heating the car, ceased. Isabelle pulled the keys out of the ignition.
Without a word spoken, both girls opened their doors, and got out. The cold air bit viciously at Clary's exposed skin;maybe not wearing snow pants was a bad idea...
And to think, Christmas was still three weeks away.
"Brr," Isabelle laughed, rubbing her hands up and down the arms of her coat, manifestly trying-and failing-to regain the warmth that had escaped her body.
It was a long walk up the driveway, with Clary and Isabelle both slipping on the ice every so often. When they finally reached the few stairs up onto the covered porch, the silence was broken, "I think that might've been harder than driving here," Isabelle muttered. Her cheeks were red from the cold, and Clary could only assume hers looked the same, if not worse.
Clary stepped forward, and knocked on the steel, off-white door. Three loud knocks. The door opened, and a gust of warm air swept over Clary. She relished in the feeling of warmth, before the frosty weather swept it away. "What-I told you guys not to come-the weathers too bad. I texted you, Clary," Jace's voice rang through her head, a soft, sweet, almost melodic sound.
"Sorry, your heiness," Clary responded, the words coming out almost without her permission. "I have no service," Clary dug in her coat pocket, and pulled out her worn cell, shoving it in his face. He pushed her hand back gently, and sighed. "Idiots," he muttered, turning back into the house, walking away. "Don't know why you'd drive all the way here-in his weather," Clary found it funny, the way he was talking to himself.
Clary stumbled over the door way, looking back up to see Isabelle tugging her wrist. "What?" She raised her eyebrows. "You want to stand out there all night?" Clary shook her head, and kicked off her snow-caked boots by the door, Isabelle following suit.
Jace had long disappeared down the polished, warmly lit hallway, without so much as a word. Typical. No matter, though; Clary and Isabelle had been there enough times to know the house like it was their own. It practically was, sometimes. It was the same way Jace and Isabelle and Simon knew Clary's house; the same way they all knew Isabelle and Alec's house.
Agnes, a maid of sorts, walked down the hallway, in her hands she held a pile of blankets. They smelled as if they'd just come out of the dryer. "Hi, Agnes," Clary smiled softly. Agnes returned the smile, "Hello, dears," she stopped mid stride, the small heel of her black shoes clacking against the polished hardwood. "It must be very cold out there. Not very smart of you two to drive all the way out here-you'll be snowed in by morning."
"Blondie doesn't seem to think so, either," Isabelle replied, her gaze shifting down the hall, where it was darker, where there were no lights. Agnes laughed, "He's not been in a very good mood," she remarked. "Can't figure out why-but the boy's been pacing these halls for hours, it seems, waiting for you ladies to get back to him."
Clary almost felt bad, but then again, there hadn't been anything they were able to do, other than not crash. "I never got his text," Clary put it simply. "No service," she tapped her pocket, where the snow was starting to melt, turning to beads of water. Agnes nodded, "I do hope you girls don't plan on leaving tonight. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to the two of you," Agnes had always been so sweet, so kind. She didn't have a mean bone in her body, not that Clary had ever seen or heard of.
"If it will make you happy, Agnes, I don't see why not," Isabelle smiled.
"It's all settled then? You'll stay here until it's not a blizzard out there, no ifs ands or buts about it," Agnes began walking down the hall again, before turning her head back to the two girls. "Would you two like a room, or just the usual?" The usual was what almost always happened; they'd fall asleep on a mound of blankets and pillows, watching horror movies-or just really awful television shows that were on at two in the morning. "The usual," Isabelle said, it wasn't even debatable, because they'd both be too tired to move.