Shadowhunting IRL

The Station

Hi again!! More Sizzy tension in this chapter with an unhealthy dose of pining :)

Izzy's diary: 3 A.M. Drunk Ramblings

Results of my 30-minute-long comprehensive study of Alec: he's a bossy idiot. fourth beer, dancing(and making out) with Jordan when Alec helpfully reminded me of the 2 am curfew. Most people would've been horrified  that my brother sets my curfew if they knew–By the Angel, Izzy, what are parents for?? standard unspoken response, coming to you from the Drunken Invisible Chronicles—Jordan didn't even question me though, just nodded--bobbing his head, like a stupid dance move--he was hardly drunk, but wow he understood having to be your own parent. My insides are literally twisting—not with beer, with that funny feeling Ive said too much, too soon. I'm not a lightweight like Clary--god, Clary's hair is weird. Scarlet curls-- oh she's probably  writing a spendid Scarlet Letter thesis with her best friend. Dammit I'm just  gonna copy that from Simon. That cute-faced dumbass. I would use a worse term if he weren't actually so freaking cute. Weird little Ravenpuff. Not even gray-eyed; boring mud eyes and hair. tho that black shirt did... i don't know, he looked nerd hot? Not a thing. By the angel, doesn't one just love unrequited crushes? oh well. screw it. screw him. I wish. for now this Toblerone will have to do, though ughh

Isabelle was never embarrassed; especially not of herself. Even drunk, she wasn't the kind of person who embarrassed herself: if she felt herself slipping, she usually shut up and exited the place real quick; mostly she just didn't slip. But reading at her diary entry of last night over cereal in the morning made her stomach churn all over again, like embarrassment was folding her organs in on themselves. She put down the spoon (so her obsession—she refused to say LOVE, that was a drunken mistake and she was going to keep it that way—with Simon was cutting her meals short now) , ignoring Alec's worried glance, and walked out of the room clutching her dairy. She'd rather die than Alec see even a word of all this shit-especially the bits where, loopy, she'd gone off into unspeakable tangents which seemed to be destined to end in Simon. Plus the bit where she'd apparently poured her life story out to Jordan in a few drunken sentences. She'd have to take care of that later, overcompensate and also try to get some leverage. And oh God, she had it bad for Simon. Drunk Izzy clearly wanted him to know. But sober, she wasn't so sure.

If they deserved each other. If they'd even work! But with that thought, any semblance of control that Izzy possessed over her crush vanished. Her thoughts last night, she had written off as drunken rambling. She could justify her attraction to him as a need for change—so far, everyone she'd even come close to dating looked on some level like Jordan. But this—her mostly-sober (aching, slightly hungover) brain whirring, trying to come up with ways it could work—this was when she knew there would be no easy ridding of this crush. Her first unrequited one. Her first real one, now that she was being (mostly) honest with herself.

She gritted her teeth and grabbed her car keys, ignoring Alec's muffled protests (Max, in his magician and manga phase, was trying to gag him with bound hands as part of a trick). It was a Saturday. She'd do a lot better at the station in the evening if she knew the place. There were thngs of more importance than The Scarlet Letter.

She opened her diary to a new page, taking out the time to scribble one sentence:

Step one to Goodbye, Simon: Hello, Murder.

(hopefully. They better not stick me assisting a filing cabinet.)

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By 11 p.m. that day, Izzy was about ready to faint. Not that she looked it, Angel forbid, or that anyone cared.

When she came to know that Clary's mom Jocelyn had gotten her an internship at the local police station where Jocelyn worked, she'd had been excited. Determined, even, to exploit all cases that came her way.