So...NEW STORY! For those of you expecting a epilogue and a sequel to my other story, Our Choices Make Us Who We Are, I'M SORRY THIS ISN'T IT! I PROMISE I AM WRITING ONE! I just had really bad writers block, and decided to take a short break form Infernal Devices stuff to write this.

I was in dance class when this idea came to me...I was like, "What if I make Clary a dancer...and Jace...and...CLACE..." And yeah. You know how these things are. They like NAG YOU ALL DAY until you finally write them!

If you guys want me to continue this story, then I'm going to do a Chapter Playlist (starting next chapter) like I did last time, but I'm also going to have a "Dance Terms" section where you can go if your confused by any dance terminology. If there is something that you read that you are confused about and its not in that section, FEEL FREE TO PM ME ANY QUESTIONS! I am a dancer, so I will explain it to you to the best of my abilities.

So without further ado, here is chapter one of Turning Point!

Dance Terms:

Pointe Shoes- also known as toe shoes. Most of you probably all know what these are, but basically they're hard shoes that allow you to dance on your toes.

Fouetté- French: means "to whip". Basically just a type of turn; look up a video online if you want to see them.

Fourth Position- one of the positions of the feet (Google it if you want to know, cause I can't explain it :DD )

Tendu- French: means "stretched". It's when you extend and point your foot, then bring it back to your original starting position.

"And now, please welcome to the stage, number 25, Clarissa Fray."

Applause thundered in Clary's ears, but all she could hear was her heart thudding. She flexed her feet in her pointe shoes and cracked her knuckles in the final seconds before the applause faded. This had always been a nervous habit for Clary before she would perform.

"You'll be fine, Clary. You know the dance inside and out. Just have fun and smile!" she heard her best friend, Isabelle whisper.

But she knew she wasn't going to be fine. This was the dance that defined her future. Judges from the New York City Ballet were here to watch the performances and offer the top 10 dancers a contract with the company. Clary wanted this so badly it hurt. It had been her dream since she was three years old. She knew she couldn't mess this performance up or she would lose everything she had been working towards for almost 15 years.

The music started and she stepped out into the spotlight. She plastered a smile on her face immediately, even though the last thing she wanted to do was smile. She wanted to throw up.

Usually, during performances Clary would try to find her family out in the audience. She always felt like it helped her put purpose into her steps if she was dancing for someone else and not just going through the motions.

Clary prepared herself for her upcoming fouetté turns by finding something to spot. She scanned the crowd frantically, but nothing stood out to her. Thinking she would just have to spot randomly (which was never good), she stepped into fourth position and wound up. But then, her green eyes met gold ones that were intently staring back at her.

She hesitated a second to long before going in to her turns which threw her off. She tilted to the side to try and regain her balance, but it was no use. She lost her spot and fell out of the turn clumsily.

She mentally swore and continued with the dance. She had blown it. They would never take her now if she couldn't even complete a set of fouetté turns. She wanted to cry. The song ended, and applause once again thudded through her ears. Clary quickly curtsied and ran off the stage. Isabelle was waiting in the wings with her.

"That was amazing, Clary! You nailed it!" Isabelle whisper-screamed.

Clary glared at her and stormed off, but Isabelle followed. "No it wasn't! I totally fell out of my fouetté turns, and then I lost my focus at the end, and-"

"Clary, stop beating yourself up. It wasn't noticeable." Isabelle paused. "What made you lose your balance?"

Clary hesitated. Should she tell Isabelle about the gold-eyed boy? "I-I was looking for something to spot, and then I saw someone towards the front staring at me. But he had the most gold eyes, and I just got distracted."

Isabelle's eyes widened. "Oh my god, I'm going to kill him," she muttered. "If you don't make it, I swear, I will beat him to a pulp!"

"Izzy, calm down! What's wrong, do you know him?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course I know him! That's Jace, my brother!"

Realization dawned on Clary. She had ever met Isabelle's family, but Izzy talked enough about Jace. "Mr. Golden Boy" she called him. She said he was always cocky and narcissistic, and had about 3 girlfriends a month.

"My whole family is came to watch my performance," she said. "That's why he's here." Isabelle had already danced; she was number 10.

They had reached the dressing room, and Clary immediately started peeling off her costume. She didn't care if something ripped, she probably would never have to wear it again. She pulled her fiery red hair out of its tight bun and took her sweat pants and sweatshirt out of her bag, slipping them on over her tights and leotard.

"Well, we have about 30 more acts," Isabelle sighed. "But I did bring a card game!"

So they played cards on the floor for an hour until they announced all dancers could leave. They would contact everyone individually who was selected. Clary hated when they did it this way because it meant she had to wait overnight to hear if she made it or not. I guess I won't be getting any sleep tonight, she thought.

"Clary, don't worry," Isabelle reassured her as they cleaned up the cards. "Hey, why don't you and your family join us for dinner! That will get your mind off of dance for a while."

Clary attempted a weak smile. "Okay. What time?"

"Umm...well, it's four o'clock how about six?"

Clary nodded. "Alright."

She sent a quick text to her mom telling her that she would meet them by the car, and then Isabelle and her went their separate ways.

When she reached the car, she was showered with hugs and praises. She didn't want it though, she knew she danced horribly.

"Clary, you were beautiful up there! You did marvelous! Absolutely wonderful! I'm so proud of you!"

"Mom," Clary sighed. "I fell out of my

turns and messed up the ending."

"Oh sweetie, stop!" her mother dismissed with a wave of her hand. "You were perfect. Now, I talked to Mrs. Lightwood, and they want to have us for dinner! Isn't that great!"

"Yeah, Isabelle told me," Clary muttered as she got in the car.

The last thing she wanted to do was celebrate.


As they pulled up in the driveway, Clary gaped. She had never been to the Lightwood's home, but now she could tell why Isabelle never worried about money and always insisted on buying her coffee at Starbucks in the morning.

Clary and her mother walked to the front door and she rang the doorbell. Almost immediately it flew open.

"Hi! You're here!" Isabelle squealed and hugged Clary tightly.

"Yeah," Clary mumbled into Isabelle's shoulder.

"Well, come in!" Isabelle released Clary and led her and her mother through the house to the kitchen. "Mom, they're here!" Isabelle yelled.

"Down in a minute!" came a faraway muffled response.

"You can sit down anyway; dinner will be ready in a couple minutes."

Clary's mother smiled. "Thanks so much for having us."

"No problem," Isabelle smiled back. "Alec, Jace, dinner's ready!"

Clary's heart sped up. Of course he would be here! She wondered if he would recognize her. Probably not, she thought.

There was an audible thumping on the stairs and a black haired boy came into view. He looked exactly like Isabelle, but with short hair. She assumed this was Alec because she knew what Jace looked like.

But she was nowhere near prepared when he walked in the kitchen. His whole demeanor radiated confidence, but way too much of it. It wasn't just his eyes that were gold. His hair, his skin...

Clary looked away before she got too lost in his appearance, but not before she saw him flash her a crooked grin. So that's how it is, she thought. Just like Izzy described.

Dinner was eaten comfortably; Maryse and Jocelyn talking, asking questions. Clary didn't eat much; not because she didn't like the food, but because she was constantly watching her weight for dance. Isabelle, on the other hand, ate whatever she wanted whenever she wanted and never seemed to gain a pound. It wasn't fair how some people were like that.

Clary excused herself to go to the bathroom, but passed something on the way that made her stop. It was Isabelle's "private" dance studio, where she practiced at home. Clary slowly opened the door and walked in knowing that Izzy wouldn't mind. It had a stereo system in one corner of the room, and a full length mirror across the wall; giving the allusion that the studio was bigger than it actually was. A pair of pointe shoes and one of Izzy's many dance bags was strewn across the floor.

Clary slowly walked towards the center of the room and took her sneakers off so she could dance in her socks. She pulled her hair back off her face and did a few tendu's to warm up her feet. Then, she found herself winding up to do a fouetté turn. She didn't know why she was so upset with herself for messing that up in the dance. Maybe it was because she had mastered them at age 14, or that she didn't understand how she could let herself get so distracted by just a glimpse of a boy. Now she knew why her parents wouldn't let her date.

"Is that what you messed up in your dance?" came a voice form the door. Although Clary didn't fall out of her turns this time, the voice did startle her. She turned around to see Jace casually leaning against the door frame, grinning.

"Yeah," she breathed.

His grin spread wider. "Is that because you looked at me?"

Oh God. Seriously? "No," she lied.

"Sure. I saw you look at me and stumble. It's alright, I understand. Most girls have the same reaction when they first see me."

Clary rolled her eyes. "Don't get too full of yourself."

"I'll try." He paused. "What are you doing in here anyway? I thought you were going to the bathroom."

"Yeah, well, can't pass up an opportunity to practice."



"You're worse than Isabelle."

"I doubt that."

"No, really," Jace said. "Whenever she's not at dance, she's in here. But after 6 pm, she's done. You're still dancing at," he checked the clock on the wall, "7:15, after you just did a performance. Do you ever stop dancing?"

"Not really," she sighed. "Even when I'm lying in bed at night, I always run through my latest routine to keep it fresh in my head."

"Wow. Do you have any friends besides Isabelle? Any social life?"

"Yes," Clary defended. "But my parents won't let me date."

"Are you kidding me?" Jace looked incredulous. "For someone as pretty as you, you've never dated…anyone?"

Did he just call me pretty? PRETTY? "Uh, no," she said, blushing.

"You've never kissed anyone?"

Wow, this is awkward. "Um, no, not really," she said, her cheeks turning redder.

"Well, that will have to change," he said smirking, turning away from her and walking out with one last glance over his shoulder.



And if you're wondering, Clary is beating up on herself for no reason. LIKE SERIOUSLY, Fouette turns are REALLY hard. I've been dancing for a longtime (almost 11 years) and I can't even do one. So yeah. Just clearing that up :DDD


XOXO, ByTheAngelIsThatWillHerondal e