Clary got off the bus with Isabelle, being forcefully pulled along by the taller girl, zooming through the crowd.
They reached a tall megaplex with dozens of signs. Clothes stores, books stores, music stores, video game stores, shoe departments. You name it, they probably had it.
Clary was half being pulled, half running into the crowd.
Isabelle finally pulled Clary into several pairs of double doors, expanding the outside world into a mansion of stores. Clary looked: three floors. She huffed.
Mundanes, she thought, had wide minds. Not like how her father described them. Mundanes created this wide piece of architecture and probably have made several times bigger than this. She thought their minds were beautiful place, that are wide and cannot be described.
The human race was one of the beautiful things she ever saw.
"Clary," Isabelle said, snapping her out of her stupor. "Want to go to this little shop I love? Bearily anyone goes into it."
Clary nodded, smiling, being yet again pulled by Isabelle.
They came up to a shop with a blush pink sign with a scratchy cursive on a chalk board. Demort Timere.
"Blood Fear?" Clary translated. "This is a joke, right?"
Isabelle huffed. "I thought the same thing. But, it is not ran by a vampire or any flesh eatting demon," people were giving the girls strange looks. "Ran by normal mundanes."
Clary smiled and walked in behind Isabelle, who immediatly went to the clearance rack. "Hello." A lady behind the counter said.
"Hello, ma'am." Clary said.
"My!" the lady exclaimed. "I love your accent. Where are you from?"
Clary chuckled. "Berlin, Germany. My father was British, though."
The cashier giggled. "Need any help with anything?"
"No thank you." Clary smiled and walked next to Isabelle, looking at the threes on the rack.
"She is a ass biter," Isabelle whispered. "Her name is Bridget Malloway. The first time I came in here, she scowled at me and said 'Whats with that tattooes?' I flicked her off and just shopped."
"You didn't have a glamour on?" Clary took a side view of Isabelle.
"Didn't think I needed one. Never thought a mundane would be such a snobby ass who can't mind her own buisness, you know?" Isabelle asked.
"Um I guess." Not.
Clary's hand slipped over a purple top that had a small bow at the bottom right. She raised two eyebrows and picked it off the rack.
Isabelle gasped. "By the Angel thats cute! Go grab some black tights and it will be a adorable outfit."
Clary did as she said, and they both bought one outfit from the store.
Clary glanced at her phone and saw she had nineteen messages from Jonathan.
She ignored them saying:
Text you later, hanging with Isabelle Lightwood -C
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Jace rubbed his forehead. "I can't even think straight."
"By the Angel, you are crushing hard."
Alec and Jace sat in Jace's room, brainstorming things to do for Jace and Clary's date.
"Okay, I got it," Alec said. "You knock on her door around nine, hand her a rose, and say something witty. Make her laugh and maybe complement her. DON'T GET TOUNGE TIED. Take her to Takai's and ask her questions, let her ask you questions, answering them honestly, and then take her to somewhere you love."
Jace nodded. "I like it. Alec Lightwood, you are offically my favorite friend I have."
"Offically?" Alec said. "Who out roled me?"
"Church." Jace smirked.
Alec through his head back, laughing. "The cat out roled me? By how much?"
"Zero point ninty five." Jace was smiling ear-to-ear.
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Simon ran up the stairs of the Institute, bags already at the top of the stairs.
He placed his hands on the door, and it swung inward. He smirked, grabbing his four bags.
He went up the elevator. It opened almost immediatly and Maryse Lightwood and Jace Herondale stood there waiting for him.
"The guy has more bags then the girl." Jace said.
Simon rolled his eyes. "Clary forgot a bag at the cottage. We both have three bags."
Jace laughed. "Sure."
"Can you show me where her room is?" Jace shrugged and motioned him to follow.
Simon slugged the four bags up stairs and ended up in the middle floor of the Institute, the middle room.
Simon breathed. "Typical Clary." He place a bag on her bed while Jace looked at her box marked CAM.
"Typical Clary?" Jace repeated.
"Yeah. She likes middle rooms for some odd reason."
Jace nodded. "Whats in the box?"
"Don't know." Simon headed nextdoor and threw his bags on the bed.
"How do you not know? Your her best friend aren't you?"
Simon sighed in agrivation and snapped at Jace. "Listen, she never told me. She doesn't let people in so easily. She has issues. Your even lucky she kissed you last night. If I were you, I'd be careful. Too many people asking for permission into her life at once could be like an overdose of drugs. Clary doesn't like for people to know certian things. Alls I know about that box is that she doesn't want to talk about it. Be careful with her Jace. Your trouble and she's troubled."
Jace nodded and looked at him in shock. "She's troubled? How?"
"Try having your father whip you three times a day for fifteen years of your life. Try feeling like you were the cause of your dead-but-not-dead-anymore mother. Try seeing your father killed infront of you. Try knowing you can't do anything to save yourself. Try letting your father hate you. Try letting you watch your own life crumble infront of your eyes." Simon sat on his bed, looking at Jace. "Try trying to start your life all over again."
Jace looked lost for words. "I- I- I'm sorry. I- I- didn't know. I ca-n't know."
"Your right," Simon shook his head. "I don't think anyone can."