Hi! For those of you who don't know, I'm Wisterian Princess. I write a lot of Mortal Instruments FanFictions, and I make playlists for the, etc.

This story was based off of a dream I had a while back, but I forgot it unfortunetly :( I did, however, write a couple of things down, enough to write chapter one!

Okay, I'll shut up now so you can get to the fic. Enjoy!

Luke's old pickup truck jostled around as they went over the curvy mountain path. As it did, Clary struggled not to bump into Luke. It wouldn't be good to ram your shoulder into the driver.

"Oh my," Jocelyn laughed, "the terrain's bumpy."

Luke chuckled. "Something to get used to." He glanced over at Clary, whose expression was blank as she stared at the crack in the windshield intently. "Oh come on, Clary," he said, "are you going to be mad at us forever?"

Clary crossed her arms over her chest, not answering.

Luke let out an exasperated sigh.

"How about some music?" Jocelyn suggested, turning on the radio.

Tim McGraw's Highway Don't Care came on, and Clary sighed. The radio DJ in her old neighborhood was DJ Bat, who had much better taste than this. This song only reminded Clary that she was moving, and that her best friend, Simon, was a six hour drive away.

The road was winding, and curving around cliff edges and trees. Clary could see through the gaps in the trees the true expanse of the mountain. She suddenly wanted to draw it.

The song became fuzzy on the radio, and after a minute, it was all static. Luke shut it off. "That'd be the mountains. There'll be no radio up here I guess," he chuckled.

A surge of fear and panic suddenly ran through Clary. She took out her phone, and checked for reception. There was none.

"No," Clary whispered. How was she supposed to be able to contact Simon if there was no reception? She slammed her head on the back of the seat and closed her eyes, trying not to lose it. She'd liked where they'd been living before, and didn't understand why they had to move to the middle of nowhere, into a house full of other people.

"Cheer up, Clary," said Luke, "you don't need a radio. I heard the boys there formed a band, and there's a recording studio set up in the basement."

Clary groaned inwardly. Just what she needed; a group of teenage boys playing loud, awful music out here. All music out here was awful, she decided.

"Oh my goodness, we're here!" Jocelyn squealed, obviously very excited.

Clary looked out the front window. There was a white-gray house in a clearing, surrounded by monsterous trees that literally touched the sky. There was a fallen tree in the expansive front area, and a few cars parked side-by-side.

Luke pulled up beside one of them, parking the truck. "Alright," he said, "we're here."

Jocelyn got out the passenger door and stretched. It had been a long car ride.

Luke got out his side, and walked around to where Jocelyn was. He put his arm around her waist, and began talking excitedly to her.

Clary didn't listen to what they were saying. She was looking at the lack of reception she got on her phone, muttering curses under her breath at it as she tried to compose a message to Simon. It didn't send, and she angrily stuffed her phone back into her pocket, unfastened her seat belt, and climbed out. She'd been sitting on her legs, so when she stepped out, she realized how numb they felt, and fell onto the ground, growling as the pins and needles assaulted her legs.

"Clary, we're going to go meet them," said Jocelyn. "Come in when you're ready." Luke and Jocelyn walked toward the house that Clary instantly hated. She wouldn't have hated it if the circumstances were different, though. It was a nice house; tall, wide, and almost Victorian-looking. It may have been a good thing to draw. Maybe Clary would once her sketchbook was unpacked.

Clary used the car to stand herself up, brushing off the dirt that was now on her clothes, and pulled a dead leaf out of her right side braid. She angrily slammed the front door and stomped across the too long front yard to the front door, and paused before the front porch steps. She closed her eyes, and took a few slow, deep breaths, attempting to calm herself.

She slowly stepped up the blue-gray porch steps, and walked through the front door. The house didn't look bad. The wallpaper was white, with the outline of red roses all over it. Near the front door, there was a small, dark wood hutch with a blue vase holding a few white flowers that Clary couldn't name.

She heard the sound of Luke and Jocelyn's voices from down the hall, and walked nervously further into the house.

Down the hall lead to the kitchen, where Luke and Jocelyn were chatting animatedly with a dark haired woman. Clary paused, nervously fiddling with one of her braids.

The dark haired woman looked at her. "Ah," she said, "you must be Clarissa."

Luke and Jocelyn turned and saw Clary, standing in the middle of the hallway like an idiot. "Clary," said Jocelyn, "so nice of you to join us." She looked back at the woman. "Maryse, this is my daughter, Clary. Clary, this is Maryse Lightwood, she owns the house."

Clary nodded at her, not feeling friendly enough to smile.

"Your room is upstairs, down the right hall," said Maryse. "Your name is on the door. And the stairs are down the hall, opposite direction."

Clary nodded and muttered a thanks, then turned around and walked down the hall, passed the front door, and into the next room. It was a sitting room, with couches and coffee tables, and a staircase curved up to the next floor. Clary walked up to the top, and looked both ways, as if she were preparing to cross a busy road. She went right, as Maryse had instructed, and looked at the doors.

She finally came across one with a pink post-it note on it that said "Clarissa" on it close to the end of the hall. Clary cautiously opened the door, and stepped in.

The room was alright- a bit smaller than her last room was, but okay. The floor was hardwood and creaky, and the shape of the room was an exact square. On the opposite wall from the door was a window, smack in the middle with white sheer curtains. The walls were a light green, and very uninteresting. In her old house, her walls were orange. Maybe they'd let her paint it.

She walked slowly over to the window, leaving the door open, and peeked out the curtains.

The view was of the dense forest behind the house. Not bad- rather beautiful, actually.

Living here didn't seem as bad as she'd imagined, but she was still unhappy that she had to leave the place she'd grown up in, and leave everyone and everything she knew.

Clary opened the window, having to shove it upwards as it squeaked in protest, little chips of white paint raining down on the windowsill.

"Clary!" Jocelyn called up the stairs. "Come help bring our things in!"

Clary sighed, and left the room.

Clary went down the marble staircase, her converse making an interesting sound as they slapped against them.

She went out the front door and went over to where Jocelyn and Luke her removing the tarp from the back of the pickup truck, revealing the little furniture and boxes of things they'd kept.

"Tell you what Clary," Luke called across the front yard as she approached, "you only have to help bring your things in, then you can unpack if you'd like."

Clary said nothing. She said nothing as they brought up her double bed, three-drawer-dresser, armoire, desk, shelf, and boxes. The room was just big enough for everything- including the boxes- to fit.

Clary used a house key she was given to open up her boxes labeled "Bedding", "Clothes", and "Art Supplies."

She spent the next hour in her room, alone, with the door shut making her bed, organizing and putting away her clothes and art supplies, and hanging posters. Then, when she was finally done, she sat down on her bed and sketched the view from her window, trying to distract herself from her unhappiness.

Clary was woken up by the sound of shoes and voices in the hallway outside her bedroom. There were several pairs of gym shoes, and one pair of annoying high heels, Clary could hear.

There were overlapping conversation, and laughing. Clary wondered if those were their other teenagers she'd heard about.

She heard someone exclaim, then there was laughing.

The light coming from her window was slightly orange, and she wondered if it was sunset.

Clary was vaguely curious about what they were talking about, but then decided she didn't care.

She picked up her phone to see if she'd gotten any new texts from Simon, but she had no new messages. She sighed, stuffing her phone into her pocket as she left the room.

When she opened the door, there were several teenagers in the hall, going in and out of room. They all looked at her and she froze.

"Oh, hello," said a boy with black hair. "You must be Clarissa."

"Um... Yes."

"Hi, I'm Sebastian," he went up to her and offered his hand. She took it- but just to be polite. She didn't feel like talking to anyone right now.

A girl with black hair came out of a room at the end of the hall, a few doors down from her own. "Hi," she said, looking her up and down. "Mom said there'd be a new girl. I'm Isabelle," she smiled.

Clary nodded at her.

"This is Jonathan, Sebastian, Alec, Jordan and Maia," Isabelle gestured to people as she said their names. Clary forgot most of them almost immediately. "I don't know where Jace went..." She looked around, then shrugged. "All well." She looked back at Clary and smiled.

"We were just going to play flashlight tag," said one of the boys- Sebastian? "Would you care to join us?"

Clary blinked, surprised. "Um, no thanks."

"Oh come on," the other girl encouraged. Was her name Maia? "It'll be fun. Promise." She gave a warm smile.

She seemed like the kind of girl Clary could grow to like over time, but right now, Clary felt resentful. She didn't want to like anything in this house, including the people. The girl in platform heels, Isabelle, Clary knew she'd be able to hate easily.

"No thanks," she said, "I'm a bit tired."

"That's okay," said the only boy without black hair. "Maybe later?"

Clary shrugged. "Sure. Excuse me." She passed them, and went down the hall, and down the stairs.

She made her way to the kitchen, where several adults were. Clary counted seven including Luke and Jocelyn.

"Clary!" said Jocelyn. "There you are!"

"We're ordering Chinese," said Maryse, "They'll deliver. What do you want?"

"Um," Clary thought for a second. "I'll eat whatever."

"You should try the mu shu pork," said a voice from behind her. Clary spun around, surprised. She'd had no idea someone was there.

There was a boy about five feet behind her, a crooked smile on his face. "It's delicious."

Clary was speechless. He was cute. He was tall, muscular, and had golden-blonde hair. Clary bit down on her tongue to get herself to say something. "... I'll keep that in mind," she said finally.

The boy gained a smirk.

"Mu shu pork for Clary then?" said Maryse.

Clary turned back around. "Um, yeah. Thanks."

Maryse wrote something down on a piece of paper.

"So you're the new girl?" said Jace, coming up beside her, crossing his arms, and smirking.

"Yeah," Clary said, sounding defeated. Every time someone called her "the New Girl" it reminded her that she'd moved in the middle of nowhere, and she hated it.

"I'm Jace," he said.

"Clary." She didn't really care that he was cute at this point. All she wanted to do was go home. This is your home now, a voice at the back of her head reminded her. She bit her tongue, suddenly feeling miserable all over again. "Nice to meet you," she said, turning back towards the direction of her room, and walked away.

"Ouch," she heard him say as she walked away. She couldn't help but smile slightly at this.

Did you like it? Should I continue with the story?

I'm posting the playlist on my website (link to my website in my profile) in a minute, so you should check that out ;)

Any requests? I totally thrive on those, so please, tell me if you have any :)