16Mortal Instruments fic inspired by Sabrina, the movie (technically the 1954 version, although the later one is pretty much the same). AU, all human, Clary/Jace, seriously OOC. Told from various points of view. Rated M for possible lemons, if I dare write them. Gulp. I'll let you know as they come up.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in Mortal Instruments or Sabrina, I'm only letting them play with one another, as long as they're nice.
To my beta in Spain, my aca-fan sensei (I am your grasshopper) and purrina57. This story literally wouldn't have happened without you peeps. I'm still not sure I have it in me, but here goes.
Chapter 1
"Seventeen years old and still climbing trees," my grandfather would have said if he were still around. Gone were the days when I did it for the tasty apples, though,. Today I intend to get a good look at the beautiful salon where the biggest party in the Hamptons would be held. And I, Clarissa Fairchild, currently sitting on this seemingly sturdy branch, had a perfect view of the goings-on. The Lightwoods threw THE party in THE Hamptons, and everyone who's anyone would be here. I'd make a great paparazzo, I tell myself as I hang on for dear life.
Of course, I wasn't invited. It wasn't that Robert and Maryse Lightwood were unkind, they simply never thought to mix apples with pears. My mom, an accomplished artist, was in charge of buying art for their gallery, which gives her plenty of time to paint on the side. It also gives her time to worry about me. In her defense, I'm a full-time job. She worries that I still behave like a child and that I show no signs of growing up. She'd like to see me wear make-up and paint my nails, but I can't be bothered to do any of those things. It helps that I'm a late, very late bloomer. The shape-like-a-milk-carton kind.
Life at the Lightwoods is pretty sweet. We live in the servant's quarters, on a separate property adjacent to their mansion. We attend one of the best schools in the country, the kind only the right address can provide, even though we are in no way rich. Sure, we get harassed by the rich kids, but if you know how to roll with the punches, they'll eventually leave you alone. Over time, each and every staff member of the Lightwoods is like family. My knees have been mended by more people than I can remember.
My mom and I came here when I was six. I don't know much about my dad, except that he was a horrible person who still found it in him to leave me a college fund before he died. Knowing my college is paid for has not made my life easier. I'm not sure I want my father's money and, even if I do, I have no idea what I'd like to study or where I'd go. Unlike Simon, who'd had to work odd jobs and save every single cent he'd ever earned to go to college, I couldn't play the "oh-I-don't-know-if-I'll-even-be-able-to-go-to-college" card. I had the grades and the money, I just didn't have the drive. I guess I didn't want to leave the Lightwoods. Make that a Lightwood.
My eyes set on the bane of my existence: Alec Lightwood. His deep blue eyes and dark hair made every bit of my girly side swoon in giddy glory. If only my mom knew what Alec did to my girl parts and the impure thoughts I often had regarding him, she'd be less concerned about my immaturity and more concerned about my maturity. My panties would be in a twist, if they could miraculously wiggle in any direction as I ungraciously hang from the tree. Alas, Alec was, to put it kindly, a player. To put it unkindly, he was a man-whore. Unfortunately for me, I was a lowlier version of his kid brother, Max. I was the freckle-faced tomboy with a fan of curly red hair that refused to be tied in any form of ponytail. I had no curves. My body simply wasn't made to be put inside a gown that could twirl prettily at a dance. I did well as a Crayola on Halloween, but that was pretty much as fancy as it got.
"You're going to fall on your ass again, Clary, and I refuse to carry your sorry, broken behind back home again" said Simon, my best friend, son of the Lightwood's gourmet chef. He was the closest thing to a brother to me, which is why I never thought twice about telling him to beat it.
"Don't you have some of Isabelle's panties to sniff or something?" I replied, a bit horrified at my excessive meanness. My underwear was giving me a horrible wedgie, it was hard to be kind under the circumstances.
"Man, you can be a cantankerous hag sometimes. Just remember I told you so" he huffed as he walked away.
I was again left to my own devices. I lay down on the branch and stretch out my hand to grab my binoculars, swing to the left and then scramble to grab hold of the branch once again. Once I've regained my balance, I pull myself up, sit and peer into them. I scan the beautiful salon all decked out in the best linen, the fancy plates with a gold rim. The very ones I'd helped set not three hours ago. My thoughts go to poor Amatis and her housekeeping staff, who'd have to deal with the aprรจs-party cleanup. Some minutes later, I set my eyes on Alec, who is flirting with some cheap, blonde floozy. Really, he had the worst taste. Who like boobs?
In my excitement, I fail to notice I've leaned to my left and need to let go of the binoculars to counterbalance. There, back on the branch, done like a pro. Maybe I should be a jockey. Lord knows at my five-foot-two I'd be a shoe-in.
I set my eyes on Jace Lightwood. He's not bad to look at, really. He is, in one word, golden. Golden hair, golden eyes and the most beautiful golden skin. He was also captain of the football team and graduated with honors from business school a couple years ago. He's like Midas, everything he touches he turns into gold. You'd think there's nothing wrong with him, but there is. Under his rule, Lightcorp has grown tenfold. He eats small companies for breakfast, his dad says. I honestly find it a bit scary that the kid who taught me how to swim could be capable of crushing his competition without batting an eye. I've known him to be kind, but think that part of Jace might be gone forever. Everything about him is serious, just like everything about Alec is about fun. Where Jace wears a business suit with a dark, traditional print tie, Alec wears a tuxedo with a cumberband to match his blue eyes. Alec was the life of the party, the politician, the canoodler. Jace was the stick in the mud. He'd be your man, if you ever wanted a stick in the mud, which, of course, no one does.
I again set my eyes on Jace, who's surrounded by a group of older gentlemen smoking cigars, a blank expression in his face, as if proving my point. He'd just as happily jump into a shark-infested ocean, it seems, than keep this kind of company, but I am sure it's his way of canoodling.
Alec, on the other hand, oozes excitement. I see his blue eyes dance merrily as he chats up the blonde, although he cases the joint like a thief, identifying his next prey.
"Ooooooh, I am a floooozy, watch me twiddle my dyed-blonde hair, ooooooh" I mimic as the blonde speaks excitedly to Alec. Deep down, though, I know she might be a kind and intelligent human, and my mean words simply make me feel shallow. It isn't her fault I still had to buy underwear in the kid's section at The Gap. I had to confess that she had a lovely rack, and none of it appeared to be toilet paper. I sigh.
Ever the masochist, I watch them talk for a bit. He stands up and walks across the room to get her more punch, which she accepts graciously. A waiter offers Alec champagne and he drinks it swiftly. I wonder for a second if he's going to A few minutes later, they slowly move to the dance floor, her lovely red satin gown twirling in the air as he holds her waist gently, his eyes fixed on her face. I watch as he leans in and whispers something in her ear, to which she simply smiles. She leans into his ear and says something that makes his eyes dance with joy.
Having had enough for now, I decide to reach for an apple to calm my grumbling stomach. I don't really feel like getting off the tree just yet to go back home for dinner. Plus, I'm sure Simon would take my stalker-spot in a heartbeat. It was a much coveted place. He was obsessed with Isabelle, Alec's sister. I suppose she's all right, if you like tall, thin women with a rack.
Two apples later, I return to my stalking. I grab the binoculars once more and quickly sweep over the hoards of people in the crowded salon, but can't find Alec. I feel a quickening of my pulse and, in a second of shock, let the binoculars slide out of my hands. In a reflex, my arms jut out to catch them, and I feel myself slide sideways.
I crash to the ground with a thud and pass out.
I wake up, still on the ground, attempt to sit up and immediately know something's wrong. It feels like I'm bending my arm the wrong way, like an everyday movement is somehow wrong.
Oh crap, I've broken my arm. Again. My mom's going to kill me.
"Are you OK? We were on our way to the tennis courts when we heard something fall right in front of us" says a sweet, pleasant female voice. I turn to see Alec and the blonde girl looking at me, clearly concerned.
Earth, swallow me now. Please. Seriously. Maybe a nice earthquake.
I feebly attempt to smile, quickly scanning the grounds in the dark to see if the binoculars are within sight. They appear to be nowhere near.
"My mom got a yen for apple pie and I thought I'd fetch some apples. Clearly that was a dumb idea, seeing as how it's dark and all. It's been ages since I climbed a tree, obviously. It's so much harder than I remember."
"Do you want us to call your mom for you? Or would you rather that I take you back to your place?" asks Alec.
Oh you lovely Roman god, take me in your strong arms, rock me in your hard muscular chest and make me yours. Take me home, my love.
For a fraction of a second, I wonder if I have said this aloud, but then decide their anxious stares must be due to genuine concern and I flush in embarrassment.
"Thanks, my arm seems to be broken, but I'm otherwise quite able to walk back home myself" I reply.
"You were always a tough kid, I've always admired how resilient you are" says Alec.
Kid? Resilient? I wonder if they'll be able to mend my broken heart at the hospital.
They help me up, brush the dirt off me and walk away after asking me again if I'm sure I'm fine. I nod, afraid my voice will give away how close I am to crying. I watch them walk away, chatting and laughing, already privy to some personal joke. My cheeks flame in embarrassment as I start to grope around the ground for the binoculars with my one good hand, only to find they have broken. Broken arm, broken binoculars, broken heart.
The next two hours pass by in a tizzy. Time seems to slow down and speed up on and off. I remember bits and pieces in anachronic order. I hear my mom yelling at Luke, the chauffeur, to drive faster. I recognize Alaric, the groundskeeper, insist that they put ice on my arm, only for Kaelie, Max's nanny, to insist one must apply heat to it. Simon mentions that, should someone be stung by a stingray, you should pee on the affected area. Hmm, good to know. I remember Simon apologizing profusely for not insisting I get off the tree, then another bit about not being interested in Isabelle's underwear. I tell them I like apple pie. This last comment causes the whole room to go quiet.
"Clearly she's got a concussion" my mother tells the doctor, who replies something unintelligible in an attempt to soothe her. It seems he's handled his dose of overbearing mothers because she visibly relaxes.
I wonder if I've been given medication.
I slowly open my eyes and close them again. I blink a couple more times until I get used to the light. My head is killing me, and I feel the light has burned the tissue behind my eye sockets.
I don't remember feeling this bad since that time Simon and I drank all the champagne leftovers after a bash at the Lightwoods when we were eleven.
I slowly turn and notice my mother sleeping in a chair next to me. Even as she sleeps, I see the creases on her forehead. My heart sinks, knowing I've made her worry yet again. She might be overbearing, but I'm all she has. She's all I've got.
She opens her eyes, and I smile sweetly at her. Then she opens her mouth, and all hell breaks loose.
Mom gives me a lecture all the way back home, driving at 10 mph.
As I arrive home, I quickly make my way to my bedroom, or what is to be my sole place of residence for the next two weeks. I can't deny that some of what my mother has said makes sense. I need to get away from Alec, it's bordering on insanity. I also need to start planning for college. Or life. I have no idea what I'd like to do with my life.
You know how some people aren't really very good at anything? I'm not one of those. I'm fairly good at everything I attempt, I'm just not good enough at any one thing. I'm also not particularly interested in anything. I like to draw and cook, but I've never really given either a shot. I'm also mean pot thrower, but you don't want to know about my obsession with the movie "Ghost."
I spend most of the next month avidly reading all there is in the local library, trying to figure out who I am. I'd be lying if I said I didn't stalk Alec a bit more, but I was fairly good all summer.
I discovered I bake a mean apple pie.
I'm going to be a chef. Paris, here I come.
I wonder how you say "How much do those binoculars cost" in French.
So there it is, I'd love to hear from you.
The next chapter will be set a couple years from now. If you've seen the movie, you know the gist of it.
I fully intend to update once a week and finish this story, but I'm busy as heck and have a life, so please be patient and kind :)
