“You’re my best friend,” Clary said. “I wasn’t mad at you.” “Yeah, well, you clearly also couldn’t be bothered to call me and tell me you were shacking up with some dyed-blond wannabe goth you probably met at Pandemonium,” Simon pointed out sourly. “After I spent the past three days wondering if you were dead.” “I was not shacking up,” Clary said, glad of the darkness as the blood rushed to her face. “And my hair is naturally blond,” said Jace. “Just for the record.”
