The Leftover You

`“And five, six, seven, eight!”

The warm late September sun streamed through the window of the studio and lit up Isabelle Lightwood’s left leg. She was already overheated from class, sweat pooling at her lower back where her leotard hit. She tried to shift her leg out of the patch of sunlight and leaned down to scratch at her knee through her tights.

“Miss Whitelaw, you’re up!” Monsieur Aldertree called out over the music. “En tendu, and five, six, seven, eight! One and piqué, step and turn, pirouette, tombé and lift!”

Izzy shifted forward in the line that formed at the back corner of the studio. In the middle of the room, Meliorn gently placed Grace back down and they completed the combination together. Izzy counted who was in front of her and realized that when it was her turn, she’d be paired with Sebastian. Damn. She couldn’t get out of it now; Monsieur would notice if she switched.

Jessica, then Helen, then it was Izzy’s turn.

“Miss Lightwood!” Monsieur called, and Izzy got into position, chin high and arms up.

Turn, pirouette, tombé, and then Sebastian’s hands on her waist, lifting her in the air. Good, and seven— Sebastian’s grip faltered and Izzy slipped down, landing with an awkward and very ungraceful thump.

“What the hell, Sebastian?” she snapped, immediately picking up her right foot and rolling her ankle. Christ, she could have snapped something.

“Maybe if you lay off the carbs, you wouldn’t be so awkward to lift,” Sebastian sneered. Heat rushed up to Izzy’s cheeks, a combination of embarrassment and anger she couldn’t shake off.

“If you think I’m hard to lift then you must have been skipping your strength training because—”

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Monsieur’s voice broke in. “Enough. Back to the beginning. Mr. Verlac, a firmer grip when handling one of our principals, please. And Miss Lightwood, light on your feet. This is basics, people. Again!”

Izzy resisted the urge to stomp back to the corner. It would only hurt her case. She took a deep, hopefully calming breath and got back into position.

“And five, six, seven, eight! One and piqué!”

This time she and Sebastian finished the combination perfectly.

Izzy snatched her hands away from his as soon as she could and took her place at the back of the line, ignoring whatever parting shot Sebastian spoke under his breath so Monsieur wouldn’t hear.

Helen turned to give her a sympathetic look when Izzy got behind her. “What a creep,” she whispered. Izzy rolled her eyes and nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak. Her cheeks still felt hot.

Luckily, she didn’t have to be partnered with Sebastian for the rest of the class, since Meliorn was her partner for the Winter Showcase piece. By the time class ended her anger had cooled and her embarrassment faded. She was tired and a little sore, but happy and buzzed in the way a good afternoon of dancing left her.

Until Monsieur called out, “Miss Lightwood, may I see you for a moment?” before she could leave the studio. Sebastian smirked at her as he left. She bit her lip and tried to push the anger back down. It wasn’t fair. She hadn’t done anything. It hadn’t been her screw up, so why was she being the one reprimanded? But of course she knew the answer to that. With only two male dancers in the master class, they needed Sebastian much more than they needed her, even if she was a principal.

She took a deep breath. “Monsieur?”

“Are you okay, Miss Lightwood? You landed awkwardly, earlier.”

“Yes, Monsieur.” Was that all? That wasn’t so bad.

“Good,” Monsieur said. “And Miss Lightwood? I know it can be frustrating when it feels like other students are letting you down, but let’s try to extend our grace to our attitude as well as our dance. A reputation as a diva is a hard one to shake.”

“Yes, Monsieur,” Izzy muttered, and fled as soon as he dismissed her. She was filled with embarrassment again and couldn’t put her finger on why. Izzy hated feeling embarrassed. She normally didn’t have time for it.

“Everything okay?” Jessica asked when Izzy slipped into the dressing room.

“Yeah, he was just making sure I was okay from the weird landing earlier,” Izzy said. She couldn’t share what else Monsieur Aldertree had said, not without knowing how she felt about it herself. Besides, she wasn’t very close with any of the other girls in the class.

“Sebastian is such a dick,” Jessica said, and turned back to her shoelaces.

“Totally,” Izzy said, and sat down to undo the ribbons of her pointe shoes.

Did the other girls think she had a diva attitude? Izzy didn’t think she did. She tried to be patient when other people didn’t get choreography as quickly as she did, and she was always willing to help the other students if they were having trouble.

By the time she dealt with her feet and pulled on her black skinny jeans and red t-shirt with an open back, the other girls had finished changing and left, leaving Izzy alone. She stood at the mirror and picked the bobby pins out of her bun before shaking her hair out so if fell over her shoulders.

Last year, Aline would have been waiting for her if she was late. Meliorn too. But Aline had graduated in May, and Izzy and Meliorn had broken up not long after that. Now, there was no one waiting for her in the hallway of The Institute. And no one waiting at home, either, her mind supplied, and Izzy grimaced. What she had waiting for her at home was homework, and it was time she went and did it. She pulled on her boots, slung her bag across her chest, and walked out of the dressing room.

Ballet Master Class went until 4:30, and with the extra time Izzy had taken, there was barely anyone left at The Institute. She popped in her earbuds as she jogged down the steps and onto the street. She cut through Bryant Park on her way to the station, dodging tourists and natives enjoying the last few days of summer warmth before fall set in.

At the far corner of the park, a flash of movement caught her eye. She slowed and tugged one earbud from her ear. There was a Pharrell song coming from a small portable speaker sat at the base of a tree. In the grass, five people were dancing to it. They were good. Not technically brilliant, the part of Izzy’s brain that never stopped analyzing said, but they could be, if they worked at it. But they were all smiling and clearly having fun, and that made it very hard to look away. Her gaze caught on the dancer nearest to her. She was the smallest of the group, white, with long red hair pulled back into a ponytail. Izzy let her eyes wander from the girl’s hair, to her pale neck, the loose tank top and bright blue sports bra.

The girl turned her head and her eyes met Izzy’s. Izzy averted her eyes and quickened her steps, past the dancers. Behind her she heard a sudden burst of laughter and a guy’s voice say, “Okay, okay, let’s do it again from the beginning of that section. This time pay attention! That means you—” Izzy stuffed her earbud back in and her music drowned out the rest of his words.

The Q train was crowded with rush hour travelers, and it was almost six before Izzy was walking up the steps to the Lightwood’s townhouse in Lenox Hill.

“I’m home!” she called as she toed off her boots. Silence answered her. Izzy sighed. Her mother must still be at work, and her father was out of town on business.

Two years ago, at least three enthusiastic voices would have greeted her, unless Jace and Alec were at practice or Max at lessons. But two years ago Alec moved into the dorms at Columbia, 50 blocks and a lifetime uptown. Even that hadn’t been so bad, because Jace and Max took up plenty of space. But Jace had gone to Ithaca last month, and Max started at Deerfield, and now Izzy was alone in this huge house with only her parents for company. If her parents could be called company.

Robert had barely been home at all since dropping Max off at school, taking business trip after business trip. Maryse worked long hours at the office to make up for Robert’s absence. When they were home at the same time, the house filled with tension. They bickered when they were in front of Izzy and argued when they thought she couldn’t hear.

Izzy drifted up the stairs to the kitchen. She refilled her water bottle and read the note on the counter next to the fridge. Isabelle, There’s salad in the fridge for dinner. I’ll be home late. Remember to do your stretches. Mom. Izzy made a face. She never forgot to do her stretches. She opened the fridge and noted the neatly packed salad ingredients. She made another face. She could order take out instead, but then she’d never hear the end of it from her mom. Calories, Isabelle. Fats just make you fat. No one wants to lift a heavy dancer, Isabelle. She pulled out the containers, fixed the salad, and ate it standing up at the breakfast bar watching videos on her phone.

With dinner out of the way and her mom still not home, she retreated to her room. She emptied out her dance bag and refilled it with fresh tights and a leotard, made sure she had enough lambswool and band aids and bobby pins. Then she sat down at her laptop and signed on to the CUNY website. She had reading for anatomy and a worksheet to finish. She’d have to go in for a lab on Saturday morning.

People kept asking her what she was doing filling up her schedule with college biology classes. Her mother, Madame Herondale, the guidance counselor at the Institute. She’d taken every science class the Institute had to offer, had more than fulfilled the necessary credits to graduate. She should be focusing her attention on ballet now, especially with the all-important auditions coming up, according to them.

And Izzy didn’t know how to explain to them that she loved science just as much as she loved ballet. Only her dad and Alec had agreed that she should take the classes. Izzy missed them.

She picked up her phone and opened her message thread with Alec. Her fingers hovered over the screen for a few seconds before she put it down without writing anything. Alec would answer her if he wasn’t in class. He always made time to talk to her, but Izzy didn’t want to bother him too much. Their mom had tried to convince Alec to live at home when he decided on Columbia, but Alec had insisted on the dorms. Izzy had said nothing, even though she wanted to cry and beg Alec not to go. She understood why he had to. She knew he felt stifled at home. Like he couldn’t be himself. Their parents always put so much pressure on him, even more than Izzy. Definitely more than Jace and Max.

Izzy understood why he had to go. It was just that she missed him like a missing limb.

Izzy took a deep breath and pushed it all away. She flipped on her speaker and turned on some music to drown out the silence. Then she sat down to get some work done.

“And please remember fittings for costumes begin next week. Check the schedule and be on time! Okay, dismissed.” Monsieur Aldertree shooed the class out of the studio. “Miss Lightwood,” he said, softer, “may I speak with you for a moment?”

Izzy froze on her way to the dressing room. It was over a week since Monsieur kept her back last time, and she’d been careful not to clash with Sebastian since then. She hadn’t messed up today in class as far as she knew. She walked warily back to Monsieur.

“I just wanted to check in, make sure you’re doing okay,” he said when the other students had left.

“Yes?” Izzy said. “I’m fine.”

“Madame Herondale mentioned that you’re taking on extra work outside of school?”

Izzy bit back a sigh. “I’m taking a couple courses through CUNY that aren’t offered here,” she explained. “Biology and Anatomy.”

“I see,” Monsieur said. “I know you’ve never had a problem achieving academic success while maintaining your commitment to ballet, but I wonder if you’re taking on too much?”

Izzy carefully didn’t let her irritation show. “I’m doing fine so far,” she said.

“Of course you are,” Monsieur said. “But it’s only going to get harder from here. I’d hate for anything to interfere with the winter showcase or your auditions.”

“I won’t let it interfere,” Izzy said firmly. She didn’t want to examine the first thought that had run through her mind: so what if it did interfere with her auditions?

“I admire your drive, Miss Lightwood. If you ever need anything, please let me know. You’re a talented dancer, and I know you have a bright future ahead of you.”

Izzy warmed at the praise. “Thanks, Monsieur, I will. Right now it’s mostly just falling asleep at my laptop sometimes.” She laughed softly and Monsieur smiled back before his face slipped into a thoughtful expression.

“I might be able to help you with that,” he said. He reached for his bag and pulled out a small white bottle. “When I was in the New York Ballet Company, everyone used this. Just a little over the counter stuff, but helpful for when you need more hours in a day.”

Izzy took the bottle tentatively. “So what, it’s like no-doze?”

Monsieur smiled. “Something like that. Also doesn’t hurt when the pounds need to come off.” Izzy felt her shoulders stiffen. “Not you need it for that reason,” Monsieur said after a long pause.

“Thanks,” Izzy said, suddenly wanting nothing more than to escape this room and Monsieur’s gaze. “Um…”

“You can go, Miss Lightwood,” Monsieur said, and Izzy didn’t waste time in leaving.

In the dressing room she tucked the white bottle in her dance bag, biting her lip on the sneer that wanted to come out. She didn’t need Monsieur Aldertree’s stupid pills.

Once again she was the last to leave the dressing room. She took her time walking through the park trying to calm the rolling in her gut. The leaves were just starting to be touched with yellow, and though the afternoon was warm, when it got dark she’d need the sweater tucked into her bag. Did Monsieur really think she needed to lose a few pounds? Teacher’s weren’t really supposed to comment on their weight, so this would be the most direct way he could say it if he did. And Monsieur had been a professional. A principal at New York Ballet Company before he was injured. He would know.

It’s impossible for a dancer to be too thin, her mother told her all the time. Maryse Lightwood would also know, being a former ballerina herself.

Whenever she said that, Alec or Jace would frown and say something like, “Are you kidding? Izzy’s already tiny,” and then Jace would pick her up and swing her around and their mom would shout at them to stop roughhousing inside.

But Jace and Alec weren’t here and it wasn’t just her mom anymore.

She’d forgotten to put in her earbuds, so the music jerked her from her thoughts.

It was the same street dance crew she saw last week. This time dancing to Janelle Monáe. She should really get home and start her homework, but she knew the house was empty and she didn’t want to deal with it. Instead, she sat down in the grass next to the speaker and watched them dance.

There were five of them, three guys and two girls, including the redhead that Izzy had noticed last time. They kept a loose V formation as they danced, and a tall Asian guy in the back occasionally called out instructions. The redhead caught Izzy’s eye and smiled, but didn’t stop dancing. Izzy smiled back.

They ran out of choreography before the song was over. “Freestyle!” yelled out the only white guy of the group. The others laughed, but moved out of formation into something looser, each doing their own thing.

All except for the redhead who came over and crouched in front of Izzy.

“Hey,” she said. “You’re Isabelle, right?”

“Yeah,” Izzy said. “How’d you know?”

“I go to the Institute too, but visual arts.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Clary.”

Izzy took her hand. Her skin was soft and her grip was strong. “I can’t believe I haven’t seen you at school.” Izzy would remember, if she had.

“I’m always locked away in the studio, painting,” Clary laughed.

“I’m always locked away in the studio dancing,” Izzy offered.

“Yeah, but then you get on stage and perform. I’ve seen you. You’re amazing.”

Izzy had long since grown out of blushing about compliments on her dancing, but for some reason her cheeks felt warm. “You’re really good too,” she said. “You don’t dance at all at the Institute?”

Clary tilted her head and her ponytail brushed her shoulder. “Nah, this is just for fun, you know?”

Izzy didn’t know. She knew, logically, that at some point dancing must have been fun. But she couldn’t remember the last time she’d thought of it that way.

“Um, yeah,” she said, a little too late. Clary blinked at her. God, Izzy really hoped that didn’t sound as stuck up as she thought it did. But Clary gave her a little smile and stood. She held out her hand. “Wanna dance with us for a little?”

Izzy looked past Clary at the other four of the crew, smiling and chatting and moving to the rhythm. She looked up at Clary, who was still holding out her hand and looking … hopeful?

She reached up for Clary’s hand and let her pull Izzy to her feet. “Sure,” she said.

Clary’s friends accepted her intrusion into their dance party like it wasn’t an intrusion at all. Izzy let herself go. She loosened her spine, her hips, her shoulders and just moved. Sometimes she mimicked the moves Clary or the other girl were making, sometimes she made her own. She realized she was grinning like a loon.

When the song faded out, the Asian guy approached her. He seemed a little older than everyone else, and like he was in charge. He wore black joggers, and sleeveless tee, and a backwards baseball cap. He also, Izzy noticed, had black eyeliner around his eyes that had smeared a little from sweat. “Hey, I’m Magnus,” he said.

“Izzy.”

“Do you know the Single Ladies choreo?”

Izzy arched an eyebrow at him. Did she know the Single Ladies choreo? Did she call herself a dancer?

Magus laughed and jogged to the speaker and the phone sitting on top of it. “Maia, Clary, and Izzy, now!” he said, and the guys moved to give them some room. Izzy positioned herself a little behind Clary and the other girl – Maia, so she could pick up anything they did differently.

When Beyonce started singing, Izzy snapped her head and thrust her hip. She kept one eye on Clary and Maia, but she’d done this so many times in her room or with Jace and Alec and Max in the family room, it wasn’t hard to keep up. Halfway through, Magnus and the white boy joined them, laughing and singing. Only the other guy stood at the speaker and shook his head at their antics. They were getting some looks from the other pedestrians in the park, but Izzy didn’t care. She was … she was having fun.

“You should come back and dance with us more,” Magnus said, when the song ended and he had introduced her to Raphael, Maia, and Simon.

“I’d like to,” Izzy said, surprised at how true it was. “But I don’t know, I don’t have a lot of time.”

Magnus shrugged. “Whenever you do have time then. No pressure. We’re not really a high pressure group.”

“Then sure,” Izzy said. “I walk by here to the train anyway.”

“Awesome,” Magnus said. “Then I’ll see you when I see you.”

“See you,” Izzy said. She reached down to grab her bag and when she straightened up, Clary was in front of her.

“Simon and I are gonna get a coffee. You wanna come with?”

Izzy checked her phone. It was late and she should get home and start her homework, especially with Monsieur Aldertree on her ass about it. But when was the last time she’d gone out for coffee with friends? Not since she and Meliorn broke up, probably. And Clary was looking at her like she really wanted Izzy to say yes.

“Yes,” Izzy said. “I definitely need coffee.”

Clary’s smile was definitely worth a few less hours of sleep.

They went to La Colombe, and on the way Izzy learned that Simon went to The Institute as well, in the music program. She also learned what movies Simon liked, what music he hated, and which TV shows were fine, but could be better. Simon didn’t seem to stop talking.

Clary caught her eye and smiled with a little shrug and her head tilted toward Simon. Izzy’s fingertips tingled, and she bit her lip and smiled back.

Simon held the door open for them both, and Izzy lost the thread of what he was saying when the music from inside drowned him out.

“Simon,” Clary interrupted when they got in line.

Simon scrubbed his hands through his hair and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry,” he said. “I have trouble shutting up.”

Izzy shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“No no,” Simon said, “Clary knows all about that anyway. Tell us about you.”

Two pairs of eager eyes turned to Izzy and she suddenly didn’t know what to say. “I dance ballet?” she said.

“We know that,” Clary said. “You’re really good too. Is that what you want to go to school for, after The Institute? Or is it more like going straight to a company?”

Izzy wondered how this girl she didn’t know managed to immediately hone in on one of Izzy’s main sources of confusion. “Um,” Izzy said, “there are schools for ballet and I’m preparing my auditions for them now.” It was their turn to order then and If Clary noticed that she didn’t actually answer her question, she didn’t say.

Izzy ordered a double espresso and tried not to squirm under Simon’s glance when they sat down.

“No sugar or anything?” he said. “You’re hardcore, Isabelle Lightwood.”

Izzy didn’t feel like explaining her mother’s theory that sugar was the root of all evil, so she just shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

“You want some biscotti?” Clary offered, and Izzy took a bit, just because their fingers brushed when Clary handed it to her. She let herself feel one moment of envy for how Clary stayed so thin, but then let it go because Clary looked so happy to be sharing a stupid biscotti with Izzy.

“What about you?” Izzy asked. “You’re a senior too, right? Any plans for next year?”

“I’m applying to Brooklyn School of Art early decision,” Clary said. “So when I don’t get in we’ll see what other schools I apply to.”

“You’re going to get in,” Simon said.

Clary shrugged. “It’s a really competitive school.”

“She’s amazing,” Simon said to Izzy. “She’s gonna get in.”

Izzy nodded. She’d never actually seen Clary’s art, but she assumed it was amazing because Clary was kind of amazing.

“Simon, stop,” Clary said and ducked her head. She was blushing a little, blotchy against her pale cheeks, and Izzy thought it was about the cutest thing she’d ever seen.

“Have you guys known each other a long time?” Izzy asked.

Clary and Simon told her about growing up together in Brooklyn, talking over each other and finishing each other’s sentences in a way that reminded Izzy of her and Jace and Alec and Max. She missed them so suddenly and so acutely it hurt. She brushed it off after a minute and focused on Simon and Clary. She was having fun, she didn’t want to ruin it.

Izzy’s espresso was long gone when Clary’s phone buzzed with a text.

“Oops,” she said, picking it up and typing back. “Luke says it’s time to come home. Luke’s my step dad,” she explained to Izzy. She drained the last of her latte and set down the cup. “This was fun.”

Izzy felt like an idiot for how much she’d genuinely smiled today. But it felt good. “It was,” she agreed.

“So you’re gonna come dance with us more,” Clary said, “and maybe I’ll see you at school?”

“Sure,” Izzy said, already trying to think of ways to make it happen.

“Where are you headed?” Simon asked.

“Q train, Time Square station.”

“Boo, we’re the opposite way,” Clary said. Izzy bit back her giddiness at Clary’s genuine disappointment.

“Let me give you my number. We can see if we can run into each other at school,” Izzy said.

There was a flurry of them all exchanging numbers and texting each other and then Clary said, “Luke will seriously send cars after me if we don’t get home soon,” and then gathered their things and walked outside.

On the train home Izzy found herself smiling for no reason, probably freaking all the other people on the train out, but she didn’t care. Clary was beautiful and nice and talented and seemed excited to text Izzy later. It had been so long since Izzy had felt this, this fizziness in her stomach when she thought of someone. This genuine joy of anticipating seeing another person again soon.

Her good mood lasted until she got home. The house was empty and dark and Izzy felt small and alone as soon as she walked in. She ate a perfunctory dinner standing at the kitchen counter and went upstairs to her room.

When she’d changed into pajama pants and a soft tank top and settled down at her desk, she began to regret having coffee with Clary and Simon. Well, no, she didn’t regret the coffee. She regretted all the work she’d been assigned, and now it was already late. Maybe she could push some of it off until tomorrow. She put on some music and opened up her assignments for The Institute first.

She didn’t realize how long she’d been working until a soft knock came at her door. Her mother pushed it open without waiting for a response and popped her head in.

“Isabelle,” she said, “are you still up? It’s late, honey.”

Izzy blinked and looked at the clock. It was almost midnight.

“I’m just finishing up,” she lied. “You’re home late too.”

Her mother signed and rubbed one of her temples. “It’s a busy time, and with your father away...there’s just so much to do.” She looked exhausted and worn down and for just a second, very unlike Maryse Lightwood. Then her expression cleared and her spine straightened. “Get to bed soon. And don’t forget to do your stretches.”

“I know, Mom,” Izzy huffed. “Good night.”

When her mother was gone Izzy surveyed the work she had left to do. Another hour or two, maybe, to get her biology and anatomy done. God, she was tired. She stood, hoping the movement would give her the extra energy she needed. She might as well get her stuff ready for tomorrow. She shook out her dance bag and a small white bottle tumbled onto the floor with a rattle. It was the pills Monsieur had given her. What had he said? For when you need more hours in the day. Well, she did.

She shook out one pill and swallowed it.

Couldn’t hurt to see if it worked.

A few days later Izzy was rushing to her English Lit class when something caught her eye.

She was going to be late, but she stopped in the middle of the hallway anyway. There was a glass case there, filled with student artwork. There were cases like it in all the hallways and Izzy had long since stopped paying attention to what was in them. But one piece on the end had caught her eye. She couldn’t even say how long it had been there or why she hadn’t seen it before, but she walked up close to the case and stared.

Izzy went to art school, but she didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about stuff like painting, or drawing, or sculpting, or anything like that. She barely had time to think about her own stuff. But this piece was, well, stunning. It was mostly black and white, with some deep red and blue for emphasis. There were all these chaotic lines, layers and layers of them, and deep beneath them when she looked hard enough, she could make out the face of a woman. It made her feel … she didn’t know. Maybe like someone had gone into her brain when she was at her most confused and angry and somehow represented that all onto a canvas.

Her eyes skipped down to the label underneath.

Clarissa Fray.

Clarissa. Clary. Clary painted this.

Izzy would have never guessed. Clary seemed so bright. So happy. This painting was … so not. Izzy stared at the painting longer, trying to imagine Clary painting it. She reached up and touched the glass of the case, itching to run her fingers along the canvas and feel the ridges of the paint. She caught sight of her watch.

“Shit!” She was so late.

With one last glance at the painting, Izzy bolted for class.

Jace: Izzy she’s the worst.
Jace: Srsly, what do I do?

Izzy: Try not being an asshole?

Jace: Izzy how can you say that about me your own brother.
Jace: You’re supposed to be on my side.

Izzy: It’s because you’re my brother that I know you were probably an asshole.

“Important stuff?”

Clary’s voice interrupted Izzy’s deep contemplation of her phone and Jace’s girl problems. She sat down on the steps of the Institute where Izzy had been waiting for her. Her knee brushed against Izzy’s and Izzy let them press together for a few seconds before moving hers.

“Hey,” she said. “Sorry, it’s just my brother.”

“Alec?”

Izzy threw her phone in her bag and resolved to ignore Jace for the rest of the afternoon. “No, Jace. He’s at Ithaca and learning that not everyone finds him charming.”

Clary giggled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You have a lot of brothers,” she said.

“Only three.”

“That’s three more than I have. I’m a little jealous, I always wanted a brother.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you had one,” Izzy said, rolling her eyes.

“I don’t know,” Clary bumped Izzy’s shoulder with hers and Izzy leaned back, keeping them pressed together. “You seem to love yours a lot.”

“I do,” Izzy sighed. “I … I miss them a lot.”

“You guys are close?”

“Yeah. They’re my best friends, but I think…”

“What?” Clary asked softly.

“I don’t know, I just never really imagined not having them with me all the time, and now they’re gone and I just … I realize that I don’t really have other friends.” Izzy felt stupid the moment the words were out of her mouth. She shouldn’t admit to being a friendless loser to Clary. She wanted Clary to like her.

But Clary didn’t laugh. “You’ve got me,” she said instead. It made something bright and warm unfurl in Izzy’s chest and she smiled.

“Yeah, and honestly, you’re way better than Jace.” Izzy stood and held her hand out to pull Clary up. “Should we go?” Clary’s hands were small, but strong, with paint caught under the nails. Izzy pulled her to her feet easily.

“Sure,” Clary said. No ballet master class on Fridays meant that Izzy would be able to dance with the crew all afternoon. And meeting Clary after school to walk together was the icing on the cake. They walked in comfortable silence for a minute before Clary spoke up. “Actually, I did have a brother. Well.” She paused and Izzy looked at her but didn’t want to interrupt. “He died as a baby, before I was born. I guess that’s why I always wanted a brother.” Clary bit her lip and didn’t look at Izzy, seeming a little unsure at how personal the conversation had suddenly become.

“Well, you can share mine, if you want,” Izzy said. Clary’s grin was warm and happy. She tucked her arm into Izzy’s.

“I can’t wait to meet them.”

Later that night Izzy slid into bed and pulled her covers over her head.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Clary. Clary’s smile. Clary’s perfect skin. The way Clary’s hips moved when she danced. The way Clary’s hands felt against Izzy’s.

Izzy wasn’t an idiot. She’d had crushes before, and this had all the symptoms of a doozy. It was exactly what she didn’t need. She had auditions to prepare for, school work to do. She had her mother and Monsieur Aldertree on her ass every day. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by beautiful girls with beautiful laughs.

Which wasn’t even getting into the fact that Clary was, well, a girl.

Izzy had considered the possibility that she might be attracted to girls before, but only in a vague sort of way. She’d never felt such an intense, visceral desire for another girl before. It was kind of thrilling, but kind of terrifying too.

Without looking, Izzy reached out from under her covers to grab her phone off her bedside table and pull it into her blanket cave with her. She opened up her message thread with Alec. She wanted to talk to him about this. She knew he’d understand. They never talked about it out loud, but Izzy had seen Alec’s sadness growing up. The way he’d looked at Jace, and then the way he’d looked at other guys: longing quickly followed by shame. Izzy had tried to be there for him, to let him know that she loved him no matter what, but it had always seemed pointless to talk about it. Not when their parents had certain expectations, cared so much about appearances, and made the occasional disparaging remark. They were too classy to use hate speech, of course, but it had always been made clear that being gay was for other people, not Lightwoods.

It was no wonder that Alec had insisted on living in the dorms. He seemed happy there, and freer than when he lived in the townhouse. That’s why Izzy didn’t want to bother him too much.

And since they’d never actually talked about it, Izzy had no idea how to start the conversation now.

Hey Alec, I’m kinda freaking out because I like this girl so much. Yeah, girl. I thought you might understand what with you being probably gay and all, how’s that going, by the way?

No.

Hey Alec, I know girls aren’t your thing, but I like this girl, how do I know if she likes me back? I mean, I know she likes me, but she’s always kinda handsy? Does that mean she, you know, likes me likes me, or is that just how girls are with friends who aren’t also rivals?

Also no.

Hey Alec, know any gay clubs that cater to underage bi or possibly pan girls? Asking for a friend.

Absolutely not.

Izzy sighed and tossed her phone aside. There was really no use in freaking out about Clary, when in all likelihood Clary just wanted to be friends. Friends were something that Izzy was in short supply of right now, so she didn’t want to ruin it. She could deal with her crush without letting it interfere. She was an expert at not letting things interfere with each other.

Izzy took one last breath of humid blanket covered air and tossed the covers back.

She fell asleep thinking about Clary.

“Miss Lightwood, tuck in!”

Monsieur’s shouts came in the middle of a series of pique turns. Distracted, Izzy didn’t spot cleanly enough and stumbled.

“Stop! Stop!” The music cut off abruptly. “Miss Lightwood, I’m going to need you to focus, please. No one is so talented that they don’t need to put in hard work. If you’re not willing to put in the work you’re wasting all of your classmates’ time. Do you understand me?”

Heat rushed to to Izzy’s cheeks and tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Behind her she heard Sebastian and few of the girls snicker. She took a deep breath and swallowed back her tears.

“Yes, Monsieur,” she said, forcing a confidence she didn’t feel.

Izzy didn’t consider herself sensitive. She’d had ballet teachers expecting the most from her and yelling when they didn’t think they got it since she was child. She’d grown up with her mother, who was the same but made it more personal. She had a thick skin and a drive to be better. But this … it had been like this all week. Izzy didn’t know if it was because she was tired and stressed or because Monsieur Aldertree seemed to have a way of zeroing in on her insecurities.

Izzy went back to her place for the turns and ignored the people smirking at her, taking delight in her being singled out for reprimand. That had been going on all week too. Izzy refused to let them get to her. Or at least to let them see if they did.

Thankfully class was almost over and there was little time for Monsieur to find fault in Izzy’s dancing, or bearing, or attitude. As soon as they were dismissed Izzy darted out of the studio, not wanting to give Monsieur a chance to call her back and reprimand her more.

She took her time cleaning and bandaging her feet so that by the time she was done getting dressed, she was alone. She unpinned her hair and shook it out. Her hands flexing on her scalp, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, held it for 5 seconds and let it out slowly. She just wanted to go home, get her work done, and crawl into bed early for once. Tomorrow was Friday, which meant no master class and no Monsieur, and instead, Clary and Magnus and Raphael and Maia. Maybe by Monday Monsieur would have the stick out of his ass and Izzy could stop flinching at the sound of her own name.

She pulled on her boots and grabbed her bag, rooting around for her headphones, which always made their way to the bottom, on her way out the door.

“Isabelle.”

Izzy stopped short. Meliorn was standing outside the girls’ dressing room in the same place he’d stood every day last year when he would wait for her. His hair was still pulled back for the day and his shirt was unbuttoned over his tank top. He still said her name like nobody else in the world.

“Meliorn.” Izzy’s fingers caught on her headphones and she pulled them out, then readjusted the bag on her shoulder. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay,” he said.

Izzy raised her eyebrows. Now, nearly five months later, he wanted to make sure she was okay?

“I’m fine,” Izzy said.

Meliorn frowned. “Aldertree was out of line. He’s been out of line all week. You’re not doing anything wrong, and now you’re only messing up because he keeps yelling at you.”

Izzy fiddled with her headphones, plugging them into her phone and then draping them around her neck. She started for the entrance and Meliorn kept pace with her. “It’s fine,” she said. “Everyone gets yelled at sometimes.”

She was unsure why Meliorn’s support was making her uncomfortable. She should feel vindicated that someone was taking her side against Monsieur. Meliorn was looking at her intently, and she was abruptly reminded of what it had been like when they first started dating, how Meliorn’s undivided attention was intense and heady.

“Isabelle,” he said, and she remembered that the way he said her name used to make her shiver. “No one thinks you’re coasting. Everyone knows you work hard.”

“Not everyone,” Izzy grumbled. Meliorn reached out and touched her arm to stop her. It was the first time he’d touched her outside the studio in five months, but Izzy found that the longing she expected didn’t appear.

“Some people are jealous,” Meliorn said. “They think if you feel worse, they’ll feel better, but they won’t.” He paused. “I know you work hard.”

“I know,” Izzy sighed, “but I honestly—”

She was interrupted by her phone buzzing in her hand. She looked down. “It’s Alec,” she said, inexplicably relieved. “I gotta go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Isabelle,” Meliorn said, but Izzy wasn’t listening. She hurried out the front door and picked up the call as she jogged down the steps.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey you,” Alec said in her ear. “Are you okay? You sound weird.”

Izzy rolled her eyes. “I’m just leaving school. Meliorn wanted to talk to me.”

“How’d that go?” Alec asked. Izzy imagined him frowning like he did basically anytime Izzy’s brought up Meliorn since May.

“It was fine, it was about class.” Which was the truth anyway and Izzy didn’t feel like rehashing it again. “So what’s up?”

“That’s what I called to ask you,” Alec said. “I haven’t heard from you in over a week.”

“It’s just the usual,” Izzy said. “And you’re always busy.”

“Not too busy to talk to you.”

“You can always call me, you know.”

“I just did,” Alec shot back. “So what do you say, dinner tomorrow?”

“Sure, but you have to meet me down here. I have a dance thing.”

“I thought you didn’t have master class on Fridays?”

“A non-school dance thing,” Izzy clarified. “I’ll text you the address. Around 6?”

“Sure thing. See you then.”

“Later.”

Izzy’s mood lifted as she rode the train the home. Her week was looking up: tomorrow she’d get to see Clary and Alec. She felt way less like crawling under her covers and never coming out now. She was nodding her head to the playlist Magnus had sent her as she let herself into the house and kicked off her shoes. She didn’t bother taking out her headphones as she went up the stairs to her room. Which is why her mother poking her head out of her own bedroom scared the crap out of her.

“Jesus, Mom, you scared me,” Izzy said when she’d pulled her headphones from her ears. “What are you doing home?” She looked at her phone. “It’s not even 6 yet.”

“I needed an early night,” Maryse said. It was a strange enough thing for her mom to say that Izzy focused her attention and saw that her mom did look tired. She stood straight and proud, like the former ballet dancer she was, but she was pale and there were bags under her eyes that makeup couldn’t hide. Well, she had been working practically non-stop lately.

“Dinner should be ready in about half an hour,” Maryse continued. “Can you set the table once you’ve settled in?”

“Sure,” Izzy said.

Izzy couldn’t remember the last time she and her mom had actually sat down and had dinner together. Even on the nights Maryse got home relatively early usually Izzy had already eaten or they just put together their own meals separately. On nights when her dad was home they tended to go out or order in, since it was becoming something of a special occasion.

“How’s school?” Maryse asked when they were seated. “Are rehearsals for the winter showcase going alright?”

“It’s fine,” Izzy said. “They’re fine. Monsieur Aldertree is…” she paused, wondering whether or not this was something her mom wanted know. Maryse didn’t generally have patience for complaining, but she also had a keen sense of justice if she felt her children were being treated unfairly. “He’s hard to please,” Izzy finished finally.

“He was a world renowned dancer,” Maryse said.

“I know that,” Izzy said, frustration leaking into her voice. “But he’s…” Izzy deflated, unable to find the words that would explain how pointed, how personal it all felt. “I’m thinking about trying to go in early to get some extra practice in next week,” she said instead.

“If you need me to talk to anyone to make sure you can do that, let me know,” Maryse said approvingly.

“Okay,” Izzy said, dread pooling in her stomach. Now she actually had to do it. But maybe it was a good idea. Maybe if she practiced more it would get Monsieur Aldertree off her back.

“Isabelle,” Maryse said, her words holding a strange gravity. Izzy had the sudden sense that she was about to get bad news, and her back muscles tensed. Maryse looked down at her plate, then back up at Izzy. “Your father had to extend his trip for a few days.”

Ready for some sort of catastrophe, Izzy barely understood the words. Then it hit her and she sighed in relief. Not that she didn’t want her dad home, but having to extend his business trips was practically the norm by now. “Okay,” she said. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“I’m … I’m not sure,” Maryse said. “Maybe another week or ten days.”

That wasn’t great, but it was better than nothing.

Izzy couldn’t make it to every rehearsal for the dance crew, but nobody cared. She picked up any choreography she missed pretty easily, and nobody ever seemed impatient if she slowed them down. At first Izzy had felt bad, but everybody missed rehearsals sometimes. Maia sometimes had too much homework, Raphael sometimes had to work. Even Magnus, their unofficial leader, had to bow out sometimes and everyone was fine with it.

They weren’t rushing toward a performance, or an audition, or competition. They were just dancing. When they liked a routine they filmed it and put it on YouTube, and though the videos were fairly well-received, that was pretty much the extent of it. Everyone was talented, but no one felt the need to spend their whole lives on dance. Simon and Clary had music and painting, Maia was studying marine biology, and Magnus chemistry. Only Raphael had a job related to dance, at a ballroom studio not far from the Institute.

They were at Raphael’s studio now, the weather having finally pushed them from Bryant Park.

“So I had this idea,” Magnus said, plopping onto the floor to face Izzy. They were taking a break. Clary had gone to the bathroom, Simon had missed a call from his mom and gone to call her back, and Izzy was hydrating.

“What’s up?” Izzy asked.

“It’s this song with this really cool string part, I’ve always wanted to do a routine to it, but I always envisioned it with actual ballet for string part. None of us are trained for ballet, I can’t really choreograph with it, but you could. And then if you think need another dancer doing the ballet parts, you could teach us the steps.”

Izzy paused. Magnus choreographed all their routines, and he was great. She didn’t think he ever asked anyone for input.

“You don’t have to,” Magnus said quickly. “Like if you don’t want to have to think about ballet here at all, that’s fine.”

Izzy shook her head, touched that Magnus had figured out something she had barely articulated to herself. “No, it sounds fun. I’ve just never really choreographed something before. Send me the song, and then I can come up with ideas and you can tell me if they work or not.”

“Awesome!” Magnus beamed at her and Izzy couldn’t help beaming back.

“What are you two smiling about?” Clary asked. She folded into a seat next to Izzy, and their arms brushed before Clary readjusted.

“Now, now, Biscuit,” Magnus said, wagging his finger at Clary. “That is for me and Isabelle to know, and you to find out.”

Clary pouted and Izzy tamped down on the urge to lean over and bite it. “Secrets are no fun,” she said.

“Not for you,” Magnus shot back.

“Hey,” Maia said, joining them on the floor. “It’s all-ages night at Pandemonium tomorrow.”

“Yes!” Clary shouted, as Magnus said, “Oh right, I forgot about that.”

“What’s Pandemonium?” Izzy asked.

“It’s a club,” Maia said. “Normally it’s 21 plus, obviously, but every once in a while they have an all-ages night, and then our resident babies can come dance with us.” She reached out to pinch Clary’s cheek, and Clary evaded, laughing. Her evasion tactics had her leaning into Izzy’s side, and Izzy raised her arm to give her more room.

“It’s so fun,” Clary said, looking up at Izzy, not bothering to move from where she was pressed against Izzy. “Izzy, you’ve got to come with us tomorrow!”

“Okay,” Izzy said faintly, even though she should have said no. She couldn’t think with Clary basically snuggled up against her. She looked at Magnus and he quirked up a corner of his mouth in a sympathetic smirk. Izzy blushed. She was so busted.

“Yay,” Clary said, and she still wasn’t moving. “We can get ready at my place.”

“Make plans later,” Magnus said. He stood up. “Dance now. Come on, up! Places! Dancing!”

Clary stood and Izzy’s side felt cold but she breathed a sigh of relief. Thank you, Magnus.

They rehearsed for another hour before they were interrupted by a knock on the studio door.

“Alec!” Izzy yelled, and broke formation to get the door.

“I guess we’re taking a break,” Raphael muttered. Izzy ignored him because she wasn’t going to leave Alec in the freaking hallway.

She opened the door and jumped into Alec’s arms almost in the same motion. Alec caught her and squeezed her tight, lifting her off the ground. God, she’d missed Alec’s hugs, and it had only been a month since she’d seen him.

“Hey Izzy,” he said softly into her ear before putting her down.

“Hey,” she said, not letting him go yet. “We’re almost done. Do you mind waiting a few minutes?”

“Of course not,” Alec said.

Izzy finally let him go an scurried back to her place in formation.

“Okay, once more from the top and then we’ll call it a day,” Magnus said, and restarted the music. Izzy threw herself into the choreography, probably hitting it with more precision than she had all day. Alec was fairly indifferent to dance outside of supporting her, but Izzy had spent her entire life wanting to impress him.

They hit their final pose, and Izzy held it, breathing hard as the last note faded out. She looked up to Alec out of habit – she always checked to see what Alec thought first.

Alec was staring at the group with his mouth slightly open looking like he’d just been hit with a two by four. Izzy knew it wasn’t her usual style, but she didn’t think it was that surprising. When they broke up and headed for their water and their street clothes, Izzy made her way to Alec. Alec wasn’t looking at her at all, she realized. Alec was looking past her, and there was a blush spreading across his cheeks. Izzy looked over her shoulder to find that Magnus was the only one who was not getting ready to go. He was fiddling with his phone and the speaker, but he was staring right back at Alec.

A huge smile broke across Izzy’s face, so big and sudden her cheeks hurt.

She reached out and grabbed Alec’s arm. “Come on, let me introduce you to everyone,” she said, and pulled him along behind her. “This is Raphael, and this is Maia. That’s Simon and Clary, they both go to The Institute too.”

Alec made an effort to pull himself together and be polite, but he was clearly flustered. It wasn’t that Izzy was mean, but she definitely saved Magnus for last on purpose. She dragged Alec across the room. She couldn’t blame Alec for his distraction. Magnus was totally hot. He had killer abs and arms that he was showing off with joggers and a tight tank top, and the sweat he’d worked up from dancing made it seem like he was glowing.

“And this is Magnus, he’s kind of in charge. Magnus, this is my brother, Alec.”

Magnus smiled, not the friendly happy smile he gave Izzy when they met, but a smile that was somehow way sexier. “So nice to meet you,” he said. He held out a hand and Izzy had to elbow Alec a little bit when he didn’t take it right away.

“Um, nice to meet you,” Alec said. Magnus didn’t let go of his hand and Alec didn’t pull away. “That was uh, really good. With the. Dancing. Um.”

Holy shit, this was amazing. Izzy had never seen Alec like this.

“Alec goes to Columbia too,” she broke in to save Alec from himself.

“Really?” Magnus said, “I can’t believe I haven’t seen you. Have you taken any chemistry? I TA for Professor Fell.”

“Um, no, no chemistry,” Alec stuttered. “I’m majoring in political science?”

“Cool,” Magnus said. “Do you—”

“Magnus!” Raphael snapped. “Come on, we’re gonna be late!”

“Just a sec,” Magnus shouted. He turned back to Alec. “Well, I have to go, but maybe I’ll see you around sometime?”

“Uh, yeah, sure? Maybe? I uh … I mean that’d be, um…”

“Magnus!” Raphael thankfully cut off her brother’s rambling.

Izzy took just long enough to gather her stuff so that they wouldn’t run into Magnus and Raphael on the way out because she was a nice sister and she didn’t actually want to break Alec. When they walked out of the building and into the cooling evening, Izzy couldn’t hold herself back.

“Oh my God, Alec,” she laughed.

“Shut up,” Alec growled. “Do you want to go to the diner?”

“Yeah, sure,” Izzy laughed and let it go. She didn’t want to push Alec. She wanted him to talk to her because he wanted to. She figured he would eventually, he just needed time. Of course, she’d been figuring that for a long time and had kind of thought he would have by now, but Alec was stubborn like that.

The sun was starting to set by the time they got to Ridgeway Diner, a tiny Greek-run place at the edge of the Flatiron district, tucked between a deli and a church. The Lightwood siblings had been coming here since they were kids. It was the place they went when they wanted to escape the townhouse. It was the place where Alec had told them he’d been accepted to Columbia, and the place they went to celebrate Jace’s soccer victories. The diner had seen many post-recital meals for Izzy and good test grade celebrations for Max. It was the place that Izzy had once seen Yvonne Rainer and been too shy to go talk to her.

Izzy and Alec sat in a booth along the wood-paneled wall and ordered coffee and food without looking at the menu.

“So,” Alec said, after he had meticulously stacked his empty creamer containers.

“So?” Izzy asked. Alec rolled his eyes.

“So, how are you?”

“I’m fine, how are you?”

“Izzy,” Alec said. “Come on.”

“What?” Izzy said.

“Is something going on?” Alec asked. “Is it Meliorn?”

“Nothing’s going on with Meliorn. We’ve barely spoken outside of rehearsals until yesterday.”

“Okay,” Alec said, “So what, then?”

Izzy sighed like Alec was the biggest pain in the ass on the planet, which he kind of was. “So, nothing out of the ordinary. Monsieur Aldertree hates me and is up my butt all the time about not being good enough. I’m tired. The house is always empty. What do you want me to say?”

Alec frowned. “You’re the best dancer they have. Why is your teacher on your case?”

“I don’t know!” Izzy burst out. “He was fine in the beginning of the year and now it’s like I can’t do anything right! I haven’t done anything different! I practice all the time! Maybe he’s just a power-tripping asshole who gets off on humiliating me in front of my classmates!” Izzy took a few deep breaths

“Feel better?” Alec asked.

Izzy thought about it. “Yes,” she said. And she did, a little bit. There hadn’t really been anyone she felt comfortable complaining about this to until now. Just saying it out loud eased the burden of it slightly.

“Have you talked to Mom? If he’s targeting you for some sort of personal reason maybe she can talk to the principal.”

Izzy rolled her eyes, a perfect mirror of Alec’s patented move. “Mom doesn’t listen to me when I complain about my ballet teachers and thinks that since he was used to be a principal in the New York Ballet Company, Monsieur Aldertree can do no wrong.”

“I can try talking to her,” Alec said. “Or him.”

“No,” Izzy sighed. “Don’t bother. I’m just going to practice more. He can’t argue if I’m bringing in results.”

The server brought their food then, putting a pause on their conversation. Izzy poked at her Greek salad while Alec poured ketchup over his fries. Izzy wrinkled her nose at him. “Gross,” she said.

“Delicious,” he countered, and stuffed a fry in his mouth.

“Ugh.”

Alec swallowed. “How are you going to fit even more practice in?”

Izzy shrugged. “I’ll go in early a couple days, get it in before the studios fill up.”

“You just said you were tired. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Izzy said.

“Iz,” Alec said. Izzy looked up to find him studying her intently. “You look exhausted.” He looked down at her plate. “And you’re not eating.”

“I ate before rehearsal,” she lied. She speared a piece of cucumber with her fork and ate it very pointedly.

“Speaking of,” Alec said.

“Speaking of, you want Magnus’s phone number?”

“Christ, Iz. No, I mean what’s the deal with that? It’s not for school?”

“No, you don’t want Magnus’s phone number? Because I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t mind if I gave it to you.”

“Izzy.”

“Alec.”

“Just answer the fucking question.”

“You’re no fun, Alec,” Izzy pouted. “It’s not for school. It’s just for fun.”

“Do you have time for it if you’re so exhausted?”

Izzy knew Alec was just looking out for her, but the thought of giving up the crew made her want to cry. “Maybe not,” she said. “But it’s literally the only thing I have that is fun. I don’t want to give it up.”

“Okay,” Alec said, his voice soft. “I just worry about you. It’s okay not to take on so much, you know?”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Izzy muttered.

“Who cares what I did,” Alec said.

“Um, Mom. Dad. Me.”

“Don’t let Mom and Dad pressure you into too much. You need to do what’s right for you.”

Alec was looking at her so earnestly, and she remembered why she missed him all the time.

“Okay,” she said. “Now tell me about college.”

That night when Izzy got home she had a string of text messages from Magnus.

Magnus: Isabelle.
Magnus: Your brother is STUNNING!!!
Magnus: WTF
Magnus: tell me everything about him

Izzy laughed.

Izzy: If you wanna know about Alec you’re gonna have to ask him yourself.
Izzy: No cheating.

Magnus: :((((((((

Izzy: He might have Intro to Comparative Politics on Monday afternoons.
Izzy: But you didn’t hear it from me.

Magnus: You are a gentlewoman and a scholar.
Magnus: <33333

Izzy: Good luck. You’re probably gonna need it.

Izzy tossed her phone onto her bed. She looked at her desk, with her biology and anatomy textbooks sitting stacked and waiting, and winced. With everything going on, she’d fallen a little behind. She’d planned to catch up this weekend, but if she was going out tomorrow there wouldn’t be enough time.

She reached into her ballet bag and pulled out Monsieur’s pills. She shook one into her hand and swallowed it dry. The little bottle was only a quarter full now. She supposed she should look for it in the drug store next time she was there.

Izzy put the bottle away, turned on some music, and got to work.

Saturday afternoon Izzy threw some clubbing clothes and her makeup in a bag and headed out to Clary’s apartment in Brooklyn. She’d woken up to an empty house, with only a note from her mom. Izzy texted her to tell her she was the spending the evening with a friend and would be home late and didn’t wait for the reply.

On the train she listened to the song Magnus had sent her last night several times, her mind already going through choreography possibilities. If she could convince Raphael, she wanted to try some lifts.

When she was buzzed up to Clary’s apartment she climbed the stairs and found an attractive older black man leaning against an open door.

“You must be Izzy,” he said with a smile and an outstretched hand. “I’m Luke, Clary’s step-dad.”

“Nice to meet you,” Izzy said, shaking his hand. From listening to Clary and Simon talk she knew that Luke was an NYPD detective, but she was completely thrown off by how nice he seemed and good-looking he was. She’d assumed that a cop dad would be a total hardass.

“Come on in,” Luke said. “Clary’s in her room, I’ll show you the way. I was gonna get some pizza later, is that okay? Any allergies?”

“Oh, no,” Izzy said. “Whatever is fine.” The apartment was amazing. Loft style with lots of open space and light, it also had lots of quirky charm, with plenty of comfy looking furniture that shouldn’t have looked good together, but did. There were lots of plants and art on the walls. Not the bland, meaningless art that hung in Izzy’s house, that the interior decorator had picked out for its color schemes rather than artistic merit. This art had clearly been chosen carefully by someone with an eye for vibrant and meaningful contemporary art. The overall effect was sophisticated but homey. Izzy loved it already.

“Clary!” Luke called out as they turned into a hallway. “Your friend is here!”

A door opened and Clary stuck her head out. “Hey!” Clary’s hair was damp and she wore a tank top and sweatpants.

“I’ll let you know when the pizza gets here,” Luke said.

“Thanks!” Clary said and reached to pull Izzy into her room, slamming the door behind her. Clary’s room had a big skylight in the slanted ceiling. There was a bed covered in clothes in one corner, and the other corner was set up like a studio: a drop cloth covered the floor underneath an easel and a couple small tables covered in brushes, pencils, and charcoals. There were canvases leaning against the wall and sketchbooks stacked in haphazard piles.

Music played softly from a speaker next to the bed. Tegan & Sara, and Izzy tried very hard not to read into that.

“Your room is so cool,” Izzy said.

“Thanks,” Clary said. “Sorry it’s kind of a mess.”

Izzy shrugged. “No Simon today?”

“I told him that if he wanted to do girls’ day with us he’d have to let us do his makeup. For some reason he hasn’t shown up yet. So you said you could help me with my hair?”

“Sure,” Izzy said. She pointed to the chair in front of Cary’s vanity, cluttered with make up and hair tools. “Sit.”

“Sweet!” Clary exclaimed, and scrambled to sit in the chair, beaming at Izzy the whole time. Izzy hunted through Clary’s products until she found some mousse and squeezed some into her hand. She buried her fingers in Clary’s hair and massaged the mousse through the strands. Clary tilted her head back and made a contented “hmmm” sound. In the mirror Izzy could see that she’d closed her eyes. Christ, Izzy wasn’t going to survive this. She frantically looked around a distraction. Her eyes lit on a picture tucked into the bottom corner of the mirror. It was Clary and Luke and and a red-headed white woman that looked too much like Clary not to be her mom.

Izzy reached for a brush and started gently brushing Clary’s hair. Now that she thought about it, she’d heard Clary mention Luke a lot, but never her mom.

“Clary,” Izzy said. “Where’s your mom?”

Clary blinked at her in her in the mirror, then dropped her eyes to her lap. “She died. Two years ago.”

Izzy froze. “Oh. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay. Well, it’s not okay. But it’s okay that you asked. You can keep brushing, it feels good.” Izzy began brushing Clary’s hair again, and listened as Clary spoke softly. “She had breast cancer. She was an artist, too. A painter. A lot of the paintings in the apartment are her’s. She’s the one who taught me to draw and encouraged me to go to The Institute. But by the end she was too weak to pick up a pencil. By the time they found it, it had spread. She died less than a year after she was diagnosed.”

“It sounds like she was an amazing person,” Izzy said.

“She was,” Clary said. “I miss her a lot.”

Clary’s hair was tangle free, but Izzy kept brushing it while Clary sat lost in thought. After a few minutes Clary lifted her eyes to meet Izzy’s in the mirror. “God, sorry for being such a downer.”

“You’re not a downer,” Izzy said. She handed the brush to Clary and ran her fingers across Clary’s scalp. Clary sighed and leaned her head back into Izzy’s stomach. “Thank you, for telling me. Now do you want your hair curly or straight?”

They met up with the rest of the crew at Pandemonium and huddled together in line because they hadn’t brought jackets.

“I don’t know how you stand in those shoes, let alone how you plan to dance,” Maia said to Izzy through chattering teeth. Izzy was wearing ankle boots with a fairly sedate three inch heel.

“They’re nothing compared to pointe shoes,” Izzy said dismissively, leaving out the hours she’d spent practicing in heels higher than this at her mother’s behest.

“I’m jealous,” Clary stated. “I would fall on my face.”

“I can teach you,” Izzy said. “And then you can be taller than me again.”

“Hey,” Clary said, and nudged Izzy with her shoulder.

“You’re both too short,” Maia said, “and don’t have enough body fat to keep us warm between you.”

“Oh so that’s our responsibility now?” Clary laughed. Maia slung an arm around Clary’s shoulders and pulled her close.

“Yes,” she said. She held out her other arm. “Izzy, you wanna get in on this?”

“Line’s moving,” Simon said. Maia and Clary broke apart and they all shuffled forward, reaching for their IDs and cash.

Inside it was dark and loud, the music pounding and making conversation impossible. Magnus and Raphael made their way to the bar, but the big black X’s marked on their hands meant Izzy, Clary, and Simon couldn’t get anything interesting there. So when Maia grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the dance floor, Izzy went along, flinging her hand out for Clary to catch and be dragged along as well.

It was crowded, but they were able to make enough room to make a small circle and dance together. It wasn’t even one song before Izzy was sweating, her hair sticking to her neck. Magnus and Raphael found them and shoved themselves into the nonexistent spaces in their circle, their drinks held high in one hand to keep from spilling.

Izzy felt free and happy. The heat and the music and the company combined to make her feel almost drunk, even though she hadn’t even had a sip from Raphael or Magnus. Her cheeks hurt from how wide her smile was. There wasn’t room to do anything fancy, but Izzy could still feel the eyes of the other club goers on them. It felt good, but she was careful not to meet any of the gazes. She didn’t feel the need to dance with anyone except who she was with.

When Rihanna started playing Simon sidled up to Maia and put a hand on her hip. She laughed and moved into him, their hips rolling together.

Clary leaned close into Izzy and yelled in her ear, “He has such a crush on her!”

Izzy laughed and turned to Clary to say something, but when she did she found she was in Clary’s space, their legs tangled together and Clary’s arm draped over her shoulder and around her back. Whatever she was about to say vanished from her mind, and her mouth was suddenly very dry. Clary smiled and adjusted her legs so that Izzy’s fell more naturally between them. She wrapped her other arm around Izzy’s shoulders and began dancing. It took Izzy a couple seconds to get her brain and body online and start following Clary’s lead. She gingerly put her hands on Clary’s hips, her thumbs brushing Clary’s skin right where the hem of her tank top rode up from her jeans. Clary just kept smiling and dancing like everything inside of her wasn’t silently screaming.

It probably wasn’t. Probably this was perfectly normal behavior for close friends. Izzy wouldn’t know, because her closest friends were her brothers, and she and Aline had never … been like this. But Clary had always been kinda handsy, and maybe this was part of it. Simon and Maia were dancing, and she knew that Maia didn’t like Simon like that. Don’t make it weird, Lightwood, Izzy told herself, but she couldn’t stop her hands from tightening on Clary’s hips, from tipping her head back so Clary’s hands tangled in her hair and cradled the back of her skull.

One song faded into another, but Clary didn’t move away. In fact … was she closer? Their hips were almost touching now, and Clary was straddling Izzy’s thigh. Izzy’s hands easily slid from Clary’s hips to the small of her back underneath her tank top. Clary’s skin was soft and slightly damp with sweat. She smelled like soap and slightly of the perfume she’d put on before they left, orange blossom and bergamot. Her fingernails scratched lightly against Izzy’s scalp. Izzy let out a gust of breath she hoped Clary didn’t notice. She felt flushed and overheated and it had nothing to do with the crowds or the exertion. She was afraid to move too much or to look at anyone outside the little bubble she and Clary had created.

Izzy wasn’t sure how long they’d been dancing. She had stopped paying attention to the music outside of the beat and the way their bodies moved together. Clary’s nose brushed against her throat, and again. Izzy couldn’t hold in her gasp. She tried to pull Clary closer, but they were already so close, and grinding. Heat flooded Izzy, radiating out from where she was pressed against Clary’s thigh, from where Clary was pressed against hers. She could do nothing but hold onto Clary tighter. Clary’s breath ghosted across her throat leaving goosebumps, and then, something softer pressed there. Izzy almost froze, only instinct kept her moving. Were those Clary’s lips? Had Clary just …

“I love this song!” A weight hit her side and she and Clary nearly tumbled to the ground. Simon’s hand around her arm kept her upright, and she kept Clary up with her hands around her waist.

Izzy blinked, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. Suddenly her arms were empty and Clary was glaring at Simon.

“Are you drunk?” she was yelling at him. Simon hadn’t let go of Izzy’s arm and was trying to pull her back the group.

“Clary, it’s Demi! You have to dance with us!” His breath did have an distinct alcohol scent. Raphael broke through the crowd, already rolling his eyes.

“Idiot,” he said, dislodging Simon’s hand from Izzy’s arm. “Leave them alone.”

But whatever had been happening between Clary and Izzy, the moment was broken. Clary just looked at Izzy and shrugged before following Simon and Raphael back into the crowd. Izzy took a deep breath trying to get her body under control. It wasn’t working very well.

If Simon hadn’t interrupted, what …. Izzy couldn’t even finish the thought.

She took one more deep breath and went to find her friends.

On Monday morning Izzy dragged herself out of bed before the sun was up. It was so early her mom wasn’t even dressed yet, standing at the kitchen counter sipping her coffee in her robe. Izzy poured a cup for herself and grabbed a banana.

“I could make you some eggs,” Maryse offered, her voice soft in the dim kitchen.

“This is fine,” Izzy said. “I’ll get something before first period.”

Maryse nodded. “Do you want a ride? I won’t be too long.”

“The subway will be faster,” Izzy said. She dropped the banana peel in the trash and grabbed her water bottle.

“Have a good day,” Maryse said. She reached out to smooth down Izzy’s hair.

“See you later, Mom.”

It was early enough that there were plenty of seats on the train, and Izzy put her earbuds in and tipped her head back against the window. As it had every moment she wasn’t busy with something else since Saturday night, her mind drifted to Clary. She flushed when she remembered too vividly what had happened. Clary hadn’t gotten that close for the rest of the night, and Izzy had taken an Uber back her house alone. They’d texted on Sunday, but it was as if nothing had happened. Izzy figured that in Clary’s mind nothing had. Maybe she just got caught up. Maybe Izzy had imagined it. Either way, she didn’t want to make anything awkward, so she was just going to follow Clary’s lead and drop it.

If only her traitor brain would do the same.

The sun was rising when Izzy got to The Institute and the security guard let her in. The halls were empty and quiet. The west-facing studio was still shadowed when Izzy walked in, her pointe shoes clacking against the wooden floors. She didn’t bother turning on the light, just hooked up some music and stood at the barre to warm up.

When her muscles were warm and loose she turned on their showcase music and started from the beginning. With no other students, no Monsieur, no audience except her own image in the mirror, she was able to concentrate on the choreography, fine tuning each step until it was as precise as possible. When she was done, she started over again. And again.

Eventually the improved steps became more natural and she was able to lose herself in the music and the choreography. She hadn’t felt joy while in her ballet shoes in so long, but she really did love it. Here, alone, she was finally able to feel it and she was relieved. She had begun to wonder if that joy was lost to her for good.

She reached the end of the choreography and held her place for a second as the music went on.

A slow clap from the door of the studio startled her and she jerked around.

“That was beautiful, Miss Lightwood,” Monsieur Aldertree said. “I’m impressed.”

Izzy clenched her teeth, all the joy she’d felt fled.

“If you continue to put in this level of commitment you should have your pick of schools, and the winter showcase will go off without a hitch.”

“I’ve always been committed,” Izzy said.

“Of course you have,” Monsieur said. “And your other commitments? How are they going?”

“I’m handling them,” Izzy said.

“I see that,” Monsieur said. “And are the pills helping?”

Izzy paused. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but they were helping and he had given them to her. “Yes,” she said. “Thank you for them. I’ll have to pick some up for myself next time I’m at the drugstore.”

“You can have mine,” Monsieur said. “Remind me after class this afternoon.”

Izzy bit back the instinctive response that she could get them herself. She didn’t want to give Monsieur any reason to stop being nice to her. Maybe he’d stop singling her out in class.

“Thanks,” she said.

“You’d better get changed if you want to be on time for first period,” Monsieur said. He didn’t move from the doorway, only turned to the side to give Izzy some room, and she brushed uncomfortably close to him on her way out. “See you this afternoon, Miss Lightwood,” he said as she did.

“Yeah,” she mumbled when she was finally past him. “See you later.” It was rude, but she escaped to the dressing room without saying anything else.

On Wednesday Izzy came home to voices coming from the kitchen. She was so used to the house being silent when she got home, she froze on the stairs for a minute. Then she recognized the voices as Alec’s and her mom’s. They were indistinct, but she thought she heard her name and Alec sounded angry.

“Hello?” Izzy called as she finished climbing the stairs. The voices cut off.

“Hi honey,” her mom said when she walked into the kitchen. Alec was glaring at her.

“Hi,” Izzy said. “Alec, what are you doing here?”

Alec finally turned to her and smiled. “I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d stop by.” He held an arm out and Izzy ducked in to hug him.

“What are you doing all the way down here?”

“Just meeting a friend,” Alec said vaguely. Izzy narrowed her eyes, but didn’t press with their mom right there. Magnus hadn’t come to rehearsal today.

“I’m going to start dinner,” Maryse said. “Why don’t you two set the table?”

“What were you and mom arguing about?” Izzy asked when their mom was out of earshot.

“Nothing,” Alec said.

“Bullshit. I thought I heard my name.”

Alec sighed. “I just think it’s shitty that you’re all alone here so often,” he said. Izzy blinked.

“I’m fine,” she said, even though she hated the empty house and wished all the time that she wasn’t alone in it.

“You mentioned it last week. And I just … I’m sorry too, that I’m not around more.”

“Alec, you’re going to school. You shouldn’t feel bad about that,” Izzy said.

“I know,” Alec said. “But you know you can call me anytime, right? Or if you want to come up and hang out, you can.”

“Okay,” Izzy said. “I just don’t wanna like, cramp your style or anything.”

Alec rolled his eyes. “Iz, I don’t have style to cramp. Besides, you’re more important than anything I might be doing.”

“Even if what you’re doing is Magnus?”

Alec blushed violently red. “Fuck off,” he said.

Izzy laughed, but their mom called them before she could tease Alec more about it.

Izzy’d told Alec he shouldn’t feel bad, but he must not have listened, because suddenly he was around more. He started showing up for dinner a couple times a week, and came by to do his homework with Izzy on a Sunday afternoon.

“Nice shirt,” Izzy said when she saw him. “Visiting a ‘friend’ again?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alec said.

Last week it would have been funny, but this week, irritation sparked. Why was Alec being coy? Why didn’t he trust Izzy with this? Had she done something? He wouldn’t even have met Magnus if it wasn’t for Izzy, and while she didn’t think that entitled her to the dirty details, he could at least admit that they were dating. Magnus was suddenly absent a lot and when he was around he was spacey and smiled a lot for no reason. Raphael kept yelling at him. Izzy wasn’t an idiot.

And Alec being around more would have been nice if Izzy didn’t get the impression that he was actually around more because he was meeting with Magnus and the townhouse happened to be more convenient to whatever they were doing. It wasn’t really about Izzy at all.

“Fine,” Izzy snapped, and looked back down at her lab report.

“Are you okay?” Alec asked.

No, Izzy wasn’t okay. She was tired. The stress of Monsieur riding her had been replaced with exhaustion from her early morning practices. She could barely concentrate on her college classes and her grades were slipping. She had a hopeless crush on a girl and she couldn’t talk to anyone about it because she and Alec couldn’t talk about her liking girls without talking about Alec liking boys, which he clearly didn’t want to do. Meanwhile he was dating Izzy’s friend but refusing to say and pretending Izzy was the reason he was suddenly hanging around.

Izzy was not fucking okay.

“I’m fine,” she said without looking up.

The couch dipped as Alec moved to sit beside her. “Come on, Iz,” he said. He put his hand on her shoulder. “You know you can talk to me.”

Izzy slammed her book shut and shrugged his hand off. “What, like you talk to me?”

“What?” Alec said. “I talk to you.”

“Yeah, you’ve been real forthcoming about the reason you’re suddenly wearing nice shirts and Magnus is walking around with his head in the clouds. It’s not like I’ve been waiting for you to open up to me for literally years or anything.” Izzy stood and gathered her things. “But it would be nice if you’re gonna use me as an excuse to see your boyfriend you would at least tell me you have one.”

She stomped out of the room and up the stairs.

“Izzy, wait!” Alec called out behind her. Izzy did not wait. She slammed the door to her room, locked it, and turned on some music. Even with the music she heard Alec knock on her door and call out her name. She turned it up.

Eventually she heard Alec’s footsteps retreat.

Her eyes filled with tears. She tried to hold them back, her throat hurting with the effort of it, but she couldn’t, so she buried her face in her pillows and cried. She cried until she fell asleep, and when she woke up it was dark out and the house was empty.

There was a note from Alec on the kitchen counter. Izzy crumpled it up and threw it away without reading it.

She decided that being awake sucked and went to bed without eating dinner.

Izzy took to leaving the house before her mother woke up to practice early at the Institute. The morning security guard got used to seeing her sitting on the steps when he got there to start his shift.

She stopped going to crew rehearsals, unable to face either Clary or Magnus. She didn’t know how to deal with either issue, so she just stayed in the ballet studio and practiced more. Unanswered text messages piled up on her phone, from Alec, from Clary, and as the week wore on, from Magnus. Izzy ignored them all.

On Thursday Izzy came home to lights on in the townhouse. She’d barely seen her mom all week, but she must have come home early.

She was completely unprepared to walk into the den and see her dad sitting on the couch.

“Dad!” He stood and she practically threw herself into his arms for a hug. “I thought you weren’t getting back ‘til the weekend,” she said into his shirt.

“I finished a little early,” Robert said, patting her shoulder. “How are you doing, kiddo?”

“Fine,” Izzy said dismissively. “Do you have to leave again?”

“Yes,” Robert said, and Izzy’s face fell. “But not for a little while. We’ll talk about it later.”

“I’m going to get dinner started,” her mom said from the other side of the room. Izzy had barely noticed she was there.

She sat with her dad and let him ask her questions about school and her life that she mostly avoided. He insisted that both LA and Chicago had been boring.

“You didn’t even eat at any good restaurants or go to any shows?” Izzy asked.

“Unfortunately, no. I told you it was all work and talking to stuffy investors. Nothing fun.”

“Can someone come set the table?” Maryse called from the kitchen. Robert stood.

“I’ll set the table. Why don’t you go get changed?”

Izzy took a minute to gather up her ballet bag and the sweater she had taken off while talking to her dad. On her way out of the door, there was a beep and a buzz from the coffee table. Izzy looked back and saw her dad’s cell phone sitting there. She walked back and shifted her sweater to the other hand and picked up the phone, intending to take it in to her dad before she went to get changed. It lit up and buzzed in her hand with another text message. Without thinking, Izzy looked down at the screen.

Anne: Have you told them yet?
Anne: Our bed is empty without you.
Anne: I miss you.

Izzy stared at the phone in her hand until the screen went dark, and then it buzzed and lit up again, the words on the screen just as incomprehensible as they were the first time.

She might have stood there all night if Robert hadn’t called her to dinner.

She drifted into the kitchen with the phone still in her hand.

“Hey, I thought you were gonna go change,” Robert said from the counter.

“You got a text message,” Izzy said dully.

“Okay,” Robert said, and held out his hand for his phone.

“From Anne,” Izzy said.

Robert froze. His guilt was written all over his face. Izzy let her bag and sweater slip from her arms. She looked to her mom, but her mom was looking down at the sink, her bottom lip between her teeth. So she knew.

“Real boring trip, huh,” Izzy said. “No fun at all.”

Robert flinched and Izzy didn’t care. The room was suddenly suffocating and she didn’t think she could look at either of her parents’ faces without exploding. She threw the phone at Robert, heard it crack on the marble countertop, and ran for the stairs.

“Isabelle!” someone called out after her, but she ignored it.

She stuffed her feet into her boots, grabbed her purse and jacket and was out the the door before anyone managed to follow her. Her phone started ringing as she jogged down the stairs of the subway station. She declined the call and turned the phone off before she slide her card and walked through the turnstile.

She had transferred to the L train before she realized she was on her way to Clary’s.

She considered turning around once she hit Brooklyn, but the only other place to go was Alec’s and she couldn’t deal with that right now. Besides, her stupid crush on Clary didn’t seem like such a big deal now.

The walk from the station to Clary’s apartment was cold, the late fall wind was harsh against Izzy’s face. She didn’t want to turn on her phone and deal with her parents so she couldn’t warn Clary she was coming. It would be just Izzy’s luck if she wasn’t home.

But when she rang the doorbell, Luke buzzed her up. Clary and Luke met her at the door. For all that they looked nothing alike, they had identical worried expressions.

“I’ll make some tea,” Luke announced without Izzy having to say anything.

Clary gently pulled Izzy to her room. “Are you okay? No one’s heard from you all week. What’s wrong?”

“Um,” Izzy said once the door was shut firmly behind them. She knew she had to explain but she had no idea how to. “I found out that, uh. I found out that my dad is having an affair and he’s probably leaving us to go live with her in a different city.” The words sat like stones in the silence of the room for a few seconds. Then, to Izzy’s utter embarrassment, she burst into tears.

Within seconds Clary wrapped her arms around Izzy’s shoulders. Izzy sobbed into Clary’s shirt and Clary smoothed over Izzy’s hair, whispering, “I’m so sorry, that sucks so much. Shhh. It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

Izzy only managed to get herself under control when Luke knocked softly on the door and announced that the tea was ready. Clary ran her hand down Izzy’s hair one more time, and gently disentangled herself. “I’ll be right back,” she whispered.

Izzy sat on the edge of Clary’s bed and wiped at her face. She probably looked like a mess.

Clary had slipped out of her room instead of letting Luke in and Izzy could hear their low voices on the other side of the door. Probably Clary was explaining to Luke what was going on, which on any other day would probably be embarrassing, but Izzy couldn’t summon up the energy to care tonight.

When Clary came back she was carrying two big mugs of tea. She handed one to Izzy. Izzy wrapped her palms around it letting the warmth seep into her palms.

“You can stay here tonight, if you want,” Clary said, sitting on the bed beside her. “Luke said it’s okay. And we can go to school together in the morning?”

Izzy felt like she should probably say no thank you and go home. There had to be a good reason not to stay here in Clary’s warm apartment, on her comfortable bed where people made you tea and told you everything was going to be okay. But if there was, Izzy couldn’t think of one and she didn’t care to try.

“Okay,” Izzy said, her voice rough from crying. “Thank you.”

“I’ll get you some pajamas. Did you eat dinner?”

Izzy nodded. She set her tea down on the desk and took the shorts and t-shirt Clary held out to her. She changed in the bathroom and made a half-hearted attempt at taking off her makeup. When she got back Clary had changed too and was sitting in her bed with her knees pulled up to her chest. She patted the space beside her. Izzy climbed under the covers and thought that yesterday she would be freaking out about the way their bare legs briefly brushed together. Maybe tomorrow she would remember and feel excited or nervous about it. Tonight she was too tired.

Clary pulled her laptop from her nightstand. “I know it’s early, but I thought maybe we could just watch Netflix until we fall asleep?”

Izzy nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good. Thank you.”

Clary shuffled closer to Izzy and opened her laptop. Izzy leaned in close. Clary was warm and soft and that’s all Izzy wanted tonight.

They only got through two episodes before Izzy fell asleep on Clary’s shoulder.

Izzy woke with the sun on her face, which meant she’d overslept and missed her practice. Why didn’t her mom wake her up?

She inhaled the scent of vanilla and linseed oil and blinked her eyes open in confusion. For a second all she saw was orange before her eyes focused and it was Clary’s hair. Izzy’s head was tucked into Clary’s neck, her arms around Clary’s waist. Their legs were tangled together and Clary’s arms were wound around Izzy’s back, holding her close. God, it was nice.

“Morning,” Clary said softly.

“Morning,” Izzy said. Clary shifted a little and Izzy picked her head up to give her room. But Clary didn’t move far, only wiggled down in the bed a little so they were facing each other. Their faces were very close on the pillow.

“How are you feeling?” Clary asked. She still spoke quietly as if she didn’t want to disturb their small cocoon. Izzy didn’t want to disturb it either.

“Okay,” Izzy said, and it was true. At this exact moment, warm and sleepy and wrapped up with Clary, she felt more okay than she had in weeks. Maybe months.

With a small smile Clary reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind Izzy’s ear. Her fingers lingered there, her thumb brushing the shell of Izzy’s ear. They were already so close it was nothing for Izzy to press her lips to Clary’s. Clary kissed her back softly, and it was light and sweet and so good that Izzy’s mind completely blanked. Then she moved slightly and the kiss got deeper, Izzy’s tongue flicking out against Clary’s lips and Clary’s hand curled into Izzy’s hair to pull her even closer. They both had morning breath and Izzy didn’t care at all. This was what she’d wanted for so long, and it was perfect.

She pulled away a little to take a breath, meaning to go right back to kissing Clary, but Clary’s hand on her chest stopped her.

“Wait,” Clary said, a little breathless. “Izzy, wait.”

Izzy came crashing back down to reality.

Clary’s face was all sympathy and Izzy was so stupid.

Izzy scrambled out of the bed, nearly falling on her face when her foot got caught in a sheet. “Sorry! I’m so sorry!” She grabbed at her clothes that were folded on Clary’s vanity and started pulling them on haphazardly.

“No, Izzy, wait,” Clary said, struggling up from the twisted covers.

“I need to go home,” Izzy said, unwilling to hear Clary’s perfectly nice and understanding rejection. “I don’t have my books or my dance bag. I gotta—” she shoved her feet into her boots just as hastily as she had the night before. “Thank you, tell Luke I said thank you, I’ll see you later.”

Izzy bolted.

She was halfway to the subway station when she realized she had no idea where she was going to go. Not home, to her parents. Not school, to Monsieur Aldertree. Not back to Clary’s, a friendship Izzy had probably just ruined, if not by kissing her, then by the awkward way she had run out.

Izzy sighed and got on the train back to Manhattan.

It took her almost two hours to get to Morningside Heights during rush hour. She thought Alec had class this morning but she turned her phone on and called him when she was above ground anyway.

He picked up on the first ring.

“Izzy?” he said. “Are you alright? Where are you?”

“I’m fine,” Izzy said. “I just got off the train at 116th street.”

“Stay there,” Alec said. “I’m coming to get you.”

“Alec, I’m fine.”

“Stay put.”

Alec hung up. Izzy sat on the steps of a building and waited for him. She looked at her phone, at all the missed calls and text messages. She couldn’t even begin to deal with them right now. Instead, she watched all the students rushing back and forth. Ten minutes later she spotted Alec’s particular head of messy hair jogging her way. She stood and waved to get his attention.

Alec hauled her into his arms and squeezed. “Jesus, Izzy. You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m fine,” she said into his shirt, but found herself hugging him back just as hard.

Alec pulled back so he could look at her. “What the hell, Izzy? Mom called me in a panic last night. I tried calling you a million times.”

Izzy stared hard at the ground. “I turned my phone off until just now.”

“You should call Mom and Dad. They’re worried.”

“No. I don’t want to talk to them,” Izzy said, her jaw set.

“Why not?”

Izzy said nothing, not quite sure how to explain while standing in the middle of a sidewalk. Alec sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair.

“Let’s get some coffee and sit down, okay?”

Izzy nodded. They went to Starbucks, then Alec led them to a bench in Riverside Park. It was a little chilly to be sitting outside, but the bench was in the sun and the coffee kept her hands warm.

“Please tell me what’s going on, Iz,” Alec said. He looked tired and stressed, probably up late worrying about her. Izzy sighed.

“Dad’s having an affair,” she said.

Alec blinked. “He’s what?”

“I saw some text messages on his phone last night. He’s planning on leaving us and moving in with her.”

“Shit,” Alec said. “Does Mom know?”

“I think so,” Izzy said. “I think that’s what all the business trips have been about. And all the fights.”

Alec stretched an arm out and pulled Izzy into his side. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to find out like that. That’s fucked up.”

“I couldn’t be there,” Izzy said.

“Okay, I get that. But why didn’t you call me? Where did you go? I was so worried.”

“I’m sorry,” Izzy said. “I went to Clary’s. I …” she sniffed and blinked around a few tears.

“It’s okay, I’m just glad you had a safe place to stay. Tell me,” Alec said.

“I kissed her,” Izzy blurted out.

“What?”

“Clary,” Izzy said. “We slept in the same bed, and this morning when we woke up I kissed her, but then she stopped me, and then I left and came here, and she probably hates me now.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t hate you,” Alec said immediately. Then, “I uh, I didn’t know you … wanted to kiss girls.”

Izzy barked out a short, humorless laugh. “How was I supposed to tell you when I know it’s not something you want to talk about?”

“What? No. Why would you think that?”

Izzy pulled away from Alec and glared at him. “Because you wouldn’t fucking talk to me about it, Alec! How was I supposed to know you’d be okay with it? I don’t want to push you, but I’ve been waiting for you to talk to me. If you don’t trust me, how am I supposed to trust you?”

Alec rubbed at his eyes with one hand. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s not … it’s not that I don’t trust you, okay? Besides, you already know.”

“Knowing it and knowing you’re okay to talk about it are completely different,” Izzy said.

“You’re right,” Alec said. “I just, I wasn’t comfortable with it for a long time. And then I’d gotten so used to not saying anything, it was just easier. But I didn’t realize you could be going through the same thing, so I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need you to apologize, I need you to tell me things.”

“What do you want to know?”

Izzy threw up the hand that wasn’t holding her coffee. “I don’t know! Whatever you want to tell me!”

“Okay.” Alec scratched at his eyebrow. “I joined the Queer Alliance?”

Izzy’s eyebrows shot up. “You did? When?”

“Freshman year. It’s pretty much the first thing I did. I just, I promised myself that once I was out of the house I would, you know, explore that part of me, but I didn’t know any other gay people, so…”

Izzy bit her lip. It was the first time she’d heard him say it out loud instead of ignoring it or talking around it. If it felt relieving to her, she couldn’t imagine how Alec must feel. “And you like it?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Alec said. “I mean, it was super awkward for the first few weeks, but it’s good.”

“And?” Izzy asked.

“And?”

“And? You’re dating? You’ve had boyfriends? Come on, Alec.”

Alec blushed and ducked his head. “I mean, I’ve hooked up with a few people, but I haven’t really had a boyfriend or anything, until…”

“Now?” Izzy asked gleefully.

“Magnus and I are kinda…” he waved his hand, “boyfriends. I guess.”

“You guess?”

Alec rolled his eyes. “Well he hasn’t asked me to go steady, if that’s what you’re asking. But we’re, you know, dating.” He smiled, something small, but genuine and happy. “It’s good. I like him.”

Izzy leaned into him. “You have good taste. Magnus is totally hot. And flexible.”

The blush spread down Alec’s neck. “Jesus, Izzy.”

“I’m just saying, I’ve seen him shirtless and—”

“Oh my God, shut up,” Alec interrupted her. “Stop perving on my boyfriend,” he said easily.

Izzy laughed. “Okay. Thank you for telling me.” She sat back against the bench and took a sip of her coffee, letting Alec know she was done interrogating him. For now.

“You’re welcome. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I promise, it wasn’t because I don’t trust you.”

“Okay,” Izzy said.

“And Iz,” Alec hitched a leg up onto the bench so he could turn and face her, “I wasn’t hanging around just because it was more convenient to see Magnus that way. He lives like, five blocks from my dorm, it’s actually less convenient. I just really … I miss you and I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Izzy said.

“Try that on a day when you didn’t run away from home,” Alec said.

Izzy sighed. “I’m serious, Alec, you’ve got enough on your plate. And all this parental shit sucks, but I’ll be fine.”

“The thing is,” Alec said, “I don’t think you are. You’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re exhausted and …” he bit his lip, unsure of what he was about to say, but then he took a deep breath and went on, “and you’ve lost a lot of weight. You’re scaring me, Izzy.”

Izzy blinked and looked down at her coffee. Of course she knew she’d lost some weight. She just didn’t seem to have an appetite anymore, and her jeans were starting to get loose in the waist and thighs. She’d honestly figured it was a good thing. Like her mother always said: a dancer can’t be too thin. And she hadn’t heard a word from Monsieur or her mother about her weight in weeks. It had felt good, to know she was at least doing this one thing right.

“I … I didn’t mean to,” Izzy said, but even as she said it she wasn’t sure it was true.

“I know you love ballet, but—”

“I don’t,” Izzy said.

“What?”

Izzy bit her lip. She hadn’t really meant to say it, but since it seemed to be a morning for confessions, she might as well. “I mean, I do. Or, I did. But it’s like, it’s just this thing I tell myself, that I love ballet, and I don’t really remember what that feels like. Now it’s just pressure, and work, and constantly feeling like I’m not doing enough.”

“It’s fine if you don’t want to do it anymore,” Alec said, “but why push yourself so hard for something you don’t want?”

“I don’t know!” Izzy burst out. “It’s what I’m supposed to do!”

Alec reached out for Izzy’s hand. “Izzy, no. You’re only supposed to do what makes you happy. You don’t have to keep doing ballet if you hate it.”

“I don’t hate it,” Izzy sniffed. “I just don’t … Mom’s going to be so disappointed in me if I quit.”

“Mom will get over it,” Alec said firmly. “But you’re gonna have to tell her.”

“I know,” Izzy said.

“I’ll come with you, if you want.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Alec said. “You don’t have to do any of this alone, you know.”

“Thank you,” Izzy said, then found she couldn’t say anything else because she was choked up with tears.

“C’mere,” Alec said, and pulled Izzy into a hug. God, Izzy was sick of crying. But for the first time all week, it felt almost good. She was making a mess of Alec’s shirt, but he didn’t seem to mind.

After a few minutes she calmed down and was able to take a few deep breaths.

“So I mean, are you gonna tell me about this girl or what?” Alec said.

Izzy choked on her laugh and almost started crying again. Slowly, stutteringly, she told Alec about Clary. About how pretty and talented she was. About her smile. About dancing with her at the club, and finally about the morning and the kiss.

“I’m no expert,” Alec said, “but it sounds to me like she likes you too.”

“Probably not after what I did.”

“If she’s worth it, she’ll understand. But you know you have to talk to her about it, right?”

“I know,” Izzy sighed. “I can’t believe you’re the one telling me I have to talk to people.”

Alec ruffled her hair and Izzy swatted at him. “And you’re running away from your problems, so we’ve gone full role-reversal.”

“I’m not running away. I’m … taking a break.” At Alec’s skeptical look she relented. “I’ll talk to Clary today, when school’s done.”

“Okay,” Alec said. “It’s cold out here, let’s go get breakfast.”

“Okay,” Izzy said. She stood. “And Alec, thanks.”

Alec draped an arm over her shoulder. “Of course. What are big brothers for?”

Izzy sat on the edge of the fountain in Bryant Park, picking at her nail polish and searching for Clary’s hair. She had texted Clary, asking her to meet after school, but Clary hadn’t replied. Izzy showed up anyway, hoping that Clary would give her a chance to explain, but now she was so nervous she was kinda wishing she put it off until Monday.

But over their omelettes that morning Alec had asked if she really wanted Clary to spend the weekend thinking Izzy didn’t want to kiss her, and he had a point. And Izzy didn’t particularly want to spend the weekend wondering where she stood with Clary either. But it was easy to say that to Alec and harder when she was sitting alone and facing the possibility that Clary didn’t want to talk to her.

She was coming up with a plan for what she’d do if Clary didn’t show in the next 15 minutes (email her tomorrow with a short explanation, ask to meet on Sunday or Monday and if that didn’t work she’d go to Simon and Magnus.) when she saw Clary walking her way.

Clary stopped a few feet away from Izzy and crossed her arms.

“Hey,” Izzy said.

“Hey,” Clary said. She didn’t smile or move toward Izzy in any way. Izzy swallowed.

“Listen, Clary, I’m sorry about this morning,” she said.

“Which part?”

Shit, Clary wasn’t making this easy on her. She supposed she deserved it, so she straightened her shoulders and said, “I’m sorry for leaving like that. That was … shitty. You and Luke were really nice to me and I was really rude.”

“I—” Clary started, but Izzy held up her hand.

“Sorry, just, let me get through this, okay? And then you can yell at me, and I promise I’ll take it.” Izzy took a deep breath. “I’m not sorry for kissing you, because I’ve wanted to do that for a long time now. But I am sorry if it made you uncomfortable. Either way, I should have stayed and talked to you about it. But when you stopped, I just got scared. It’s been a really crappy week. But that’s not excuse, so um. Yeah. I’m sorry.”

Clary’s arms had loosened and her expression softened while Izzy was speaking. “You’ve wanted to kiss me?” she asked. “For how long?”

Izzy’s cheeks flushed. But she had promised to be honest. “Pretty much since the first time I saw you. If you don’t want that, that’s fine. I promise I won’t make it weird. Or, you know, weirder.”

“Izzy,” Clary said, finally sitting down next to Izzy, “when I stopped you it wasn’t because I didn’t want to kiss you. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t kissing me because you were upset about your parents.” She paused. “And also because I didn’t want to get carried away when I knew Luke was gonna come wake us up soon.”

“Oh,” Izzy said faintly, her mind whirling with thoughts of getting carried away with Clary. “So….”

Clary huffed and finally smiled. “I like you, Izzy. I have for a long time. Before you even knew I existed.”

“Oh,” Izzy said again. She felt a smile widening on her face. They just sat there, smiling at each other for a few long seconds before Izzy said, “So, can I—”

And Clary said, “God, yes,” so Izzy grabbed at Clary’s jacket and pulled her closer so Izzy could kiss her. Clary’s lips parted beneath hers. She wrapped her hands around Izzy’s neck, pulling herself closer even as her tongue flicked against Izzy’s. Clary’s lips were slightly sticky with lip gloss that tasted like cherries. Izzy licked it off her bottom lip, then nipped gently and felt Clary exhale into her mouth.

Izzy probably could have kissed Clary forever except that someone wolf whistled and Izzy remembered that they were in public. She threw out her middle finger in the direction of the noise. Clary laughed against her lips and pulled away a few inches.

“Maybe here’s not a good place to get carried away either,” she said.

“Maybe,” Izzy agreed. “But sometime soon maybe we can get coffee and go back to my house and get carried away?”

“Definitely,” Clary said. She sat back but reached out and entwined her fingers with Izzy’s. “Are you coming to rehearsal today?”

“I have to go home and talk to my mom,” Izzy said. Clary nodded in understanding. “But I’ll be back next week.”

“Okay.” Clary bit her lip and looked down at her lap. “Izzy…” She looked serious and unsure and Izzy was suddenly scared. She can’t have changed her mind in the last 30 seconds. “You left something at my place this morning.” She reached into her satchel and pulled out the bottle of Izzy’s pills.

“Oh,” Izzy said, reaching for them, “thanks.”

“What are they?” Clary asked.

“Just some no-doze,” Izzy said. “I’ve been a little over-extended, but—”

“It’s not,” Clary said.

“What?”

Clary tightened her grip on Izzy’s hand. “I was worried. I asked Ollie – she’s Luke’s partner – about them. I didn’t tell her whose they were. Izzy, they’re diet pills. Nasty ones, Ollie said. They’re not illegal but they’re unregulated. She said—” Clary stopped.

“What did she say?” Izzy asked, her heart pounding in her chest. A part of her was angry at Clary for interfering. It was none of her business, talking to police detectives about Izzy, about Izzy’s things. What gave her the right? Izzy didn’t need her fucking judgement.

But another part of her was scared. She’d gone from taking the pills once in a while when she needed a boost to taking them every day. The transition was so gradual she hadn’t given it much thought. They helped, so she kept taking them. She had an insane urge to open the bottle and take one right now, and that scared her. And Clary was genuinely scared, which made Izzy even more scared.

“She said they’re addictive and the side effects can be really bad.”

“I didn’t…” Izzy swallowed. “I didn’t know.” She hadn’t. She hadn’t known. But she hadn’t thought very hard about it, had she? Something like that, Monsieur said when she asked if they were caffeine pills. The truth had been right there, but she hadn’t wanted to think about it.

“Ollie said that if you want to tell her where you got them you can call her. She said to give you her card.” Clary let go of Izzy’s hand to pull a business card out of her pocket. Izzy took it and looked at it without processing any of the words. “Sorry,” Clary said. “I just didn’t know what to do.”

Izzy shook her head and shoved the card into her jacket pocket. She wasn’t really mad at Clary. But she hated that Clary knew this, knew that Izzy had been so stupid, so weak. “It’s fine,” she said. “I… I just feel like an idiot. He said…”

Clary grabbed Izzy’s hand again. “You’re not an idiot.”

Izzy nodded, even though she didn’t think it was true. “I should uh, go home and talk to my mom.”

“Okay,” Clary said. “Do you need company?”

“Nah,” Izzy said. “Alec’s gonna be there. You should go to rehearsal. I’ll text you later?”

“You better.” Clary surged forward and kissed Izzy again, her hands cupping Izzy’s face. Izzy held onto Clary’s waist, opening her mouth and letting Clary kiss the hell out of her.

“You’re gonna be late,” Izzy said when they stopped to breathe.

“Who cares?” Clary said. Izzy managed a laugh and leaned her forehead against Clary’s.

“We’re getting carried away in public again.”

“Fine,” Clary said. “I can’t believe I finally get to kiss you and we have to do stupid things like go to rehearsal, and talk to our parents, and not make out in public.”

“Totally unfair,” Izzy agreed. She leaned in and pecked Clary on the lips quickly before pulling away completely. “If I don’t go now, I’m never gonna get home.” She stood.

“Good luck” Clary said.

“Thanks, I’m probably gonna need it.”

Izzy let her giddiness about Clary carry her halfway home before the anxiety of her impending conversation with her mom overtook her. Her steps got slower the closer she got to the townhouse.

She let herself in quietly and listened. She couldn’t hear anything, but she knew Alec and her mom were home. When she got upstairs she heard quiet voices in the living room.

“Hey,” she said, stopping in the doorway.

“Isabelle!” Izzy was so surprised to feel her mom’s arms around her that she only barely got her own arms up before her mom was pulling back and holding her by the shoulders “Oh Isabelle, I was so worried.”

“Sorry,” Izzy said. Behind her mom Alec waved at her. “Where’s dad?”

Maryse pressed her lips together in a thin line. “Let’s sit down.”

Izzy sat on the couch next to Alec while their mom sat in a chair across from them.

“Your father’s staying in a hotel for now,” Maryse said. “You can go see him if you want, but we thought it best he not be here.”

“I don’t know,” Izzy said. She had yet to really process her dad’s betrayal. They had always been so close, but the person she thought she knew would never do this.

“You don’t have to,” Maryse said. “It’s totally up to you. But you should let him know you’re okay.”

“Like he cares,” Izzy muttered.

“He does care. I promise you both, no matter what problems your father and I have, we both love you very much.”

“How long has this been going on?” Alec asked.

Maryse’s face twisted. She clearly hated talking about this, but Izzy knew that Alec felt the same way she did: they deserved some answers. “I’m not sure. I’ve known about it for about a year. We agreed he would stay until all you kids were in college, but…”

“But he figured if I was the only left at home it didn’t matter so much,” Izzy finished. Maryse grimaced but said nothing.

“What a bastard,” Alec breathed.

“I’m sorry you had to find out like that,” Maryse said. “I never wanted you to go through that.”

“Okay,” Izzy said. She had other questions, but she figured she’d have to ask Robert once she felt calm enough to talk to him without screaming.

“Are you hungry?” Maryse asked. “I figured we could order something. Whatever you want.”

Alec nudged her with his elbow.

“Wait,” Izzy said. “There’s something else I want to talk to you about.”

Maryse had been halfway out of her chair, but she sat down again.

Izzy swallowed. “I don’t want to do ballet anymore. I don’t want to audition for any ballet academies, or dance in a company. I want to go to regular college and study pre-med.”

“What?” Maryse said. “Isabelle, it doesn’t have to be one or the other. You can always go to college when you’re done dancing. That’s what I did.”

“I know,” Izzy said. “But I don’t want to do that. I want to be done dancing now.”

“You’re going through a lot right now,” Maryse said, “but I don’t think you should be making these kinds of hasty decisions when you’re upset.”

“It’s not a hasty decision. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, and the only reason I’ve stuck with it is because you want me to, but I can’t anymore. I’m sorry. I know you’re going to be disappointed in me, but I don’t love it, not enough to make it my whole life.” Her voice wavered and Alec took one of her hands in his. Izzy squeezed it in thanks.

“Isabelle,” Maryse said, her expression softening in the face of Izzy’s distress. “I’m not disappointed in you, I’m just surprised. I only pushed ballet so hard because I thought it was what you wanted.”

Maryse paused and Izzy held her breath waiting for her mom to decide if she was going to let this go. “If you want to study pre-med, by all means, study pre-med,” Maryse said, finally. “Do you have schools in mind? You’re already behind on applications—”

“Mom,” Alec interrupted. “Maybe give her a couple days.”

Maryse blinked. “Of course. We’ll have to do some research.” Izzy stifled a half-hysterical laugh. “Was that all?”

“No,” Izzy said. She clutched at Alec’s hand. “You know how I told you Monsieur Aldertree was being really hard on me?”

“Is that why you want to quit?” Maryse asked, “because—”

“No,” Izzy said forcefully. “That’s not why. A couple months ago I told him I was having trouble balancing everything with ballet and school and my college classes. He gave me these.” She reached into her purse and gave the bottle of pills to her mom.

“Wha—”

“He told me they caffeine pills, but they’re not. They’re diet pills, apparently.”

Maryse gaped. Alec squeezed her hand. “Is that why you’ve lost so much weight?” he asked.

Izzy shrugged. “I guess. I didn’t really realize…”

“He gave these to you?” Maryse asked.

“He said everyone at NYBC used them.”

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Alec swore.

“You’ll do no such thing, Alec,” Maryse said, but didn’t comment on his language. She stood. “I’m going to call Imogen Herondale right now. You two decide what you want to eat.” She stalked out of the room, her heels clacking angrily against the hardwood.

Izzy breathed out a sigh and leaned against Alec. The relief of having it all out in the open was making her dizzy. He put an arm around her shoulders and held her to him.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Izzy said. “That actually went better than I thought.”

Alec snorted and tugged at the ends of her hair. “And how’d it go with Clary?”

Despite everything, Izzy smiled. “Good. It went really good.”

“Good,” Alec said and kissed the top of her head. “You’re gonna be okay,” he said.

“Yeah,” Izzy said. “I am.”

Monday morning her mom was already waiting for Izzy in the kitchen.

“I made breakfast,” Maryse said. Izzy grimaced. She knew this was going to be a thing for a while, Alec and her mom hovering, making sure she was eating, gaining back the amount of weight the doctor had suggested.

Izzy didn’t know what her mom offered or threatened their family doctor with, but she had dragged Izzy there on Saturday morning to get checked out. So now they were waiting for bloodwork to come back, and Izzy had an appointment with nutritionist who specialized in eating disorders later in the week. She had objected to that one, but her mom had insisted, and they’d spent most of Saturday afternoon fighting about it until Alec had pleaded with Izzy to at least go to the first appointment. Izzy relented because she was finding it very hard to say no to Alec right now, and she was a little irritated about it. But she figured if after the first appointment it seemed useless she’d be able to convince her mom.

Izzy rubbed her temples. “I can’t eat,” she said. “I’m nauseous.” The doctor had also warned her to expect some withdrawal symptoms now that she wasn’t taking the pills anymore, and Izzy had spent most of Sunday curled up under a blanket on the couch watching movies and trying not to throw up.

“Some toast then,” Maryse said. She put some slices of bread into the toaster without waiting for Izzy’s approval. “Are you sure you’re okay to go to school today? You can stay home.”

“I’d rather have the distraction,” Izzy said. “If I start feeling worse I’ll call you.”

Maryse pressed her lips together. “Fine. Call me at lunch either way and let me know how you’re doing.” And what you’re eating went unsaid but was implied.

Her mother drove them to the Institute, navigating midtown traffic as smoothly as she could and cursing under her breath frequently.

Clary was waiting for her on the steps with an older woman with long brown hair.

When Imogen Herondale hadn’t bent to Maryse’s will fast enough on Friday, Maryse had started talking about calling the police. Izzy had dutifully produced Ollie’s card. Suddenly Madame Herondale had time to meet on Monday morning, and Ollie offered to accompany them, “to impress upon her the seriousness of the situation,” Ollie had said.

“Isabelle?” The woman said. “Mrs. Lightwood? I’m Detective Ordolis. Nice to meet you.”

Izzy waved and Maryse stepped forward to shake the detective’s hand. Clary stepped close to Izzy and took her hand. Izzy knew she looked like a mess, but Clary didn’t seem to mind.

“How are you?” she asked softly.

Izzy shrugged. “I feel kinda crappy, but I’m okay. Thanks for coming in early.”

“Of course,” Clary said. “I’ll be right outside the door.”

“Girls,” Maryse said. “We’re going in.”

“We’ll be in in a minute,” Izzy said. “I’ll meet you at Madame Herondale’s office.” Maryse nodded and she and Ollie went inside.

As soon as her mom was gone she pulled Clary in for a long kiss.

“I’ve wanted to do that all weekend,” she said when they broke apart.

Clary beamed at her. “Me too.”

“Sorry for the—” Izzy gestured at the door her mom went through. “I figure I should give my mom a couple weeks to get used to all the bombs I dropped this weekend before I tell her about us. Is that okay?”

Clary lifted their clasped hands to her mouth and kissed Izzy’s knuckles. Izzy melted a little bit. “It’s fine. Take however long you need.” She kissed Izzy’s lips softly. Izzy didn’t think it would ever get old.

Clary let Izzy rest her head on her shoulder for a minute, breathing in orange blossom and bergamot, vanilla, and a little bit of linseed oil. It calmed the ache in her head for a precious few seconds.

“Ready?” Clary said.

Izzy lifted her head, but she didn’t let go of Clary’s hand.

“I’m ready.”

an epilogue

Snow caught in Clary’s hair, dusting her hat and her eyelashes as well. The picturesque effect was marred slightly by how red her nose got in the cold, but Izzy didn’t care. Clary was the most beautiful girl in the whole world.

“Two weeks of freedom!” Clary was saying as they walked hand in hand to Raphael’s studio for rehearsal. “I thought it would never get here.”

“I’m going to sleep for a million years,” Izzy said.

“Naps,” Clary agreed. “Let’s take lots of naps together.”

“But we have to take them at your place,” Izzy said. “If we’re at my house nobody will leave us alone.”

“How is it having all your brothers home again?” Clary asked.

“Annoying,” Izzy said, but she was smiling. The only damper on having everyone back in the house for the holidays was the absence of their dad. Izzy was trying not to think about it.

They reached the studio and pulled open the door. In the hallway, Izzy suddenly found herself crowded up against the wall.

“Hi,” Clary said, before ducking and kissing Izzy. Izzy made a small pleased sound and opened her mouth, deepening the kiss. With midterms and winter shows they’d barely seen each other the last two weeks. But now school was over for the semester.

Izzy had performed in the winter showcase as a principal and then resigned her place. Everyone said the senior master class had performed beautifully, despite the scandal of their ballet master being asked to leave in the middle of the semester. After her less than stellar midterms, she had aced her finals for her college classes, and she was taking two more next semester. It would look great on her college applications.

Clary had done two large paintings for the winter art show, had worked on them day and night for weeks, and ended up hanging them with the oil paint still wet. Just last week she’d gotten her acceptance letter to Brooklyn School of Art.

Izzy unzipped Clary’s pea coat and slipped her hands around Clary’s waist underneath it, pulling her closer. Clary’s cold hands slipped into Izzy’s hair, dislodging her hat. Izzy licked across Clary’s bottom lip, then sucked on it gently. Clary moaned and reached for the zipper of Izzy’s coat.

“Oh for – get a room, guys.”

Izzy reluctantly lifted her lips from Clary’s, but didn’t move otherwise.

“Hey Raphael,” she said.

“We’re starting soon,” Raphael said. “And Isabelle, Magnus wants to talk to you.”

“Okay,” Izzy sighed, and untangled herself from Clary’s outerwear.

The rest of the crew was already present and warming up when Raphael, Clary, and Izzy got there. Magnus immediately pulled Izzy back into the hallway and shouted at everyone else to keep warming up.

“Is everything okay?” Izzy asked. “Need help with a Christmas gift for Alec?”

“Isabelle, I got Alexander his Christmas gift weeks ago,” Magnus said with an eyeroll Izzy was pretty sure he’d picked up from Alec. “And everything is great. More than great, actually.” He smiled. “Last month I submitted our Walls Could Talk video to the Brooklyn Streetdance Showcase.”

“You did?” Izzy asked.

“I didn’t tell anyone because I thought it was a pretty long shot. And you were really busy. But it got such a good response online I thought it couldn’t hurt to try.”

“And?”

“And we’re accepted. They loved it, and they loved the ballet part.”

“That’s awesome!” Izzy threw her arms around Magnus. He picked her up and spun her around until she was dizzy. “When’s the showcase?” she asked when she was back on the ground.

“February. You want to do it?”

“Of course I want to do it! This is huge!”

“I know,” Magnus said, “but I wanted to make sure before I told anyone else. I know you don’t really want to dance anymore.”

Izzy shook her head. “Thanks for thinking of me, but I still want to dance if it’s fun, and this is fun. Besides, you and the rest of the crew worked hard and you deserve this.”

“Well you choreographed half of it, so you deserve it too.”

“Then let’s do it.”

“Awesome! I’ll tell everyone when we’re done.”

Izzy followed Magnus into the studio, quickly stripping out of her coat and winter gear while Magnus set up the music.

“Is everything okay?” Clary asked from where she was stretching on the floor.

Izzy bent down and pecked her on the lips. “Everything’s great.”

“Okay people, get in your places!” Magnus yelled.

Izzy held out a hand and pulled Clary up. “Everything’s really great,” she said.

The music began.

“And five, six, seven, eight!”