Chapter Forty-Two

Anna.

"We need to talk" Clary came to stand beside my locker, as I slammed it shut. I sigh before turning to look at her. 

And did she look like a mess. Her hair was roughly brushed and in a messy bun. She had dyed it blue over the weekend. She wore a pleated skirt and a black blouse over it, and black knee boots. 

While I was my usual self on Monday putting on a red dress and knitted black sweater over it, I was still kinda angry with my best friend. 

"What?" I ask, waving at Tom who walked past us sensing malice on the air. 

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