Please Review!

Clary felt something warm and sticky dripping from her fiery hair and down her face. Her breathing was becoming rapid and shallow, her hands clenched into fists and her eyes narrowed. "I'm going to kill you," the words left her mouth in a snarl, not bothering to even turn around. By that point her breathing was ragged, as if she were an asthmatic on the verge of an attack.

There was a quiet chuckle behind her. "Sure you are. Go on; try it. I bet you couldn't even touch me before-agh!"

His taunting was cut short when Clary spun and pounced on him, knocking him flat on his back. She pinned his arms above his head and looked down at her brother with mix of both smugness and loving irritation etched across her face. "I hate you."

Just to show how much she meant it, she tilted her head forward. The syrup that Jon had just poured on her head inched its way down her scalp and landed with a soft patter directly onto his cheek. She couldn't help the feeling of satisfaction that coursed through her when she saw his look of disgust. Fighting to hold back her laughter, she grinned.

"Gross, Clary!" Jon managed to squirm his way out of her grasp and scramble up to her feet. "You're evil, you know," he said, admonishing her with a wag of his finger.

"Please. Me? I'm not the one who poured syrup onto their assimilating sibling," Clary retorted, accentuating her statement with a roll of her eyes.

"Assimilating? Really? What in God's name has dear old dad done to you?" Jonathan looked his sister with an expression of mock horror. "You've gone missing for two years and all of a sudden you're like a real lady." At this his dark eyes softened and met her green ones. Smiling wistfully, he pulled her into a gentle hug.

Clary melted into him, tears pricking in her eyes before she pulled back and punched him lightly in the arm. "Moron," she said, without any antagonism in her voice. With a final playful shove, she trudged up the marble steps in their house towards the shower. She could hear Jonathan laughing behind her. Walking into the gilded bathroom, Clary stripped off her shirt and smiled faintly to herself. Shaking her head, she remembered how excited Jon was when she had arrived back home. Their father Valentine and mother Jocelyn had gotten their divorce finalized three years ago and Valentine wanted time to spend with his daughter. So off she went to live with her father, traveling from Rome to Germany, from Italy to Ireland.

And while Clary was with Valentine, Jonathan and Jocelyn moved from Washington to some obscure city in the Massachusetts. But now Clary was back. Starting late- it was already well into September- she was ready to start her junior year, with Jonathan as a senior. Being the co-captain of the soccer team, Jon was popular. Clary didn't mind; she preferred to watch from the sidelines, only stepping in when needed.

She stepped out of the shower. Wringing her hair out, she loosely wrapped a short white towel around herself, using one hand to hold the ends together. Padding out of the bathroom and heading to her room, she heard the refrigerator door slam shut and a distinctly masculine voice. Jonathan, she thought, rolling her eyes. He could always eat as if he hadn't seen food in months. Reaching the ivory double French doors that lead to her room, yes, her family was that rich, she turned the handle. Then jiggled it. Refusing to budge, Clary finally threw up her hand in exasperation. Still clutching the towel, she bent down to examine the handle. It seemed to be jammed; she would need something to jab into it for it to become unstuck. Sighing, she skimmed gracefully down the stairs. Turning the corner to the massive kitchen, she called out, "Hey, Jon? My bedroom door won't open; do you know where the screwdriver is? I really-"

She was abruptly cut off as she heard low whistles and a couple of voices muttering, "Damn." Turning her head, she saw... guys. Way more than before she had left to go take a shower. There were around twelve of them, half of them with their jaws dropped and all of them staring at her soundlessly. Clary blinked. "Look at that. Wishing wells do work."

One of them snorted. He smirked at Clary in amusement. She glanced at him, giving him the once-over. Good Looking. Tall. Blond. Arrogant. Ass. All that passed through her mind in a flash, and she couldn't help the grin that crooked at the edge of her mouth. "Like what you see?" he asked, his unnaturally golden eyes sparking mischievously.

"You wish," she shot back, her vivid green eyes challenging his.

"Shit, Jon never told us about his hot girlfriend." This coming from an attractive guy with sandy brown hair and a splash of freckles.

At this Clary felt her blood boil and her face burn a bright crimson. She opened her mouth to start swearing at the boy but her brother beat her to it.

"MARCUS, WHAT THE FUCK?! THAT'S MY SISTER!" Jonathan came storming into the room, wedging himself through the small crowd and came to a stop in between Clary and the blond-haired boy. "Jace, dude, what the hell are you doing with my sister? And seriously, Clary? What's with the towel?

At that her face turned even brighter, and in return all the boys' mouths dropped open again. "She-she's your sister?" the boy-Marcus asked. Clary was getting impatient. She sighed and turned to Jon. "Look, it's not my frickin' fault. You never told me you were bringing people over and my door got stuck and, you know what? Just forget it. Where's the screwdriver?"

Jon, too stunned to respond, just pointed at a cabinet well above her height of five feet. She rolled her eyes and tucked in the corner of her towel so that both of her hands were free. Trudging up to where the cabinet was, she was aware of all the eyes following her. Clary looked up at her new adversary- tall things. For the umpteenth time that day, she sighed. Then she jumped up in an attempt to reach the brass handle and failing miserably. She tried a few more times before pausing to hang her head. After a few seconds, she turned and glared at the mass of testosterone.

"A little help?" She couldn't keep the touch of sarcasm out of her voice. Jace was the first to unfreeze. She smirked, which Clary realized was his signature move, but he swiftly walked over, deftly reached up and opened the cabinet, and pulled out a plain red screwdriver. He held it out to her, and she took grasp of it, but he didn't let go. Stooping down to her level so that they were face to face, Jace looked at her and held the object between them like a promise. A secret. Clary looked at him for a beat. Then another. Finally she tugged the screwdriver out of his hold and smiled.

"Thanks," she said, and she smiled, then turned and left, leaving them all standing in silence.