Fallen

Clary

Mom took it better than I thought she would. Dad left to go to New Jersey with his brother, Uncle Mac. I'm reading the book I found in the library that day. I unfurl my silvery wings around my bare shoulders. My short jean shorts don't help. The doorbell rings and my mother, frayed to her wits end over my recent discovery gives me a glance that says, put away the wings, I'm not ready for my little girl to be scrutinized in public. Sighing, I tuck them back into my hoodie. Alex Smith stands in the porch. I nearly fall out of my chair in surprise. The quiet kid from school who acts like he's better than everyone. His dark hair falls in his dark blue eyes and my mother waits patiently until he starts talking instead of stuttering greetings.

"Uh, sorry mrs. Lions... I need to talk to, uh... Clarabelle."

I freeze. No one. NO ONE knows my real name except family and they are sworn to secrecy and they know the price of telling. I have hated my full name my whole life. Preferring to be called Clary, my nickname. I was found with a scrap of paper with the letter c on it. That's how Clarabelle came about. I shudder and stalk to the door.

"It's Clary. NEVER SAY THAT NAME AGAIN!!! What do you want Alex?" I scream and mumble. I reflect in how well I can put several octaves into three sentences.

My mother sets us up outside in the hot, summer weather. He waits until my mom is gone before speaking.

"You can call me Alec Delara now. I know your secret. Can I- can I see them?" He asks? His innocent look tells me he isn't faking.

"First, why change your name, second, HOW ON EARTH DO YOU KNOW MY REAL NAME!!! Third, why should I show you? Just cause wing girl over here has something you don't you suddenly know where I live and pay attention to me?! Not cool. Forget it."
I spit every word out with venom and I feel great. But not for long. Suddenly, strong arms are around me and I'm being pulled to the ground. The garden box where my mom's gardening supplies lay few feet away and I whip the hedge clippers out and deal out a clean upper cut to their jaw and whirl around to face my opponent. It's Alex/Alec. He is staring at me with a look of awe on his face while I push the clippers into his throat. Not too much, but enough to make him reconsider what he was about to say. And then it hit me. Literally. A searing pain flowed in my skull and I went down into a seemingly empty abyss.