Free Nothing But Shadows by Cassandra Clare Page A

Simon liked the sound of James. He’d liked Tessa, too.
    And though he was starting to get the feeling, even without his memories, that he hadn’t always liked Jace Herondale—he liked him now.
    Catarina rolled her eyes so hard Simon thought he could hear them roll, like tiny, exasperated bowling balls.
    â€œNo, Simon. The Academy drove James Herondale out for being different, and all the people who loved him could do was follow him out. The people who drove them out did have to rebuild part of their precious Academy, mind you.”
    â€œUh,” said Simon. “Sorry, is the message I’m meant to be learning ‘get out, get out as fast as you can’?”
    â€œMaybe,” Catarina said. “Maybe the message is to trust your friends. Maybe the message is not that people in the past did badly but that now we must all strive to do better. Maybe the message is you have to work these things out for yourself. You think all lessons have easy conclusions? Don’t be a child, Daylighter. You’re not immortal anymore. You don’t have much time to waste.”
    Simon took that as the dismissal it was, scooping up his books. “Thanks for the story, Ms. Loss.”
    He ran down the stairs and out of the Academy, but he was too late, as he’d known he would be.
    He was barely out of the door when he saw the dregs, filthy and tired, arm in arm, lurching up from the training grounds. Marisol was in front, her arm looped with George’s. It looked as if someone had tried to pull out all her hair.
    â€œWhere were you, Lewis?” she called. “We could have used you cheering for us as we won!”
    Some way behind them were the elites. Jon was looking very unhappy, which filled Simon with a deep sense of peace.
    Trust your friends, Catarina had said.
    Simon might speak up for mundies in class, but it mattered more that George and Marisol and Sunil spoke up too. Simon didn’t want to change things by being the special one, the exceptional mundane, the former Daylighter and former hero. They had all chosen to come try to be heroes. His fellow dregs could win without him.
    There was one more motive Catarina might have had that she had not announced, Simon thought.
    She had heard this story from her dead friend Ragnor Fell.
    Catarina had listened to her friend’s stories, the way James Herondale had listened to his father’s stories. Being able to tell the stories over again, having someone to listen and learn, meant her friend was not lost.
    Maybe he could write to Clary, Simon thought, as well as Isabelle. Maybe he could trust her to love him despite how often he might fail her. Maybe he was ready to be told stories about himself and about her. He didn’t want to lose his friend.
    Simon was writing his letter to Clary when George came in, toweling his hair. He had taken his life in his hands and risked the showers in the dregs’ bathroom.
    â€œHey,” Simon said.
    â€œHey, where were you while the game was happening?” George asked. “I thought you were never coming back and I’d have to be pals with Jon Cartwright. Then I thought about being pals with Jon, was overwhelmed with despair, and decided to find one of the frogs I know are living in here, give it little frog glasses and call it Simon 2.0.”
    Simon shrugged, not sure how much he was supposed to tell. “Catarina kept me after class.”
    â€œCareful, or someone might start rumors about you two,” said George. “Not that I would judge. She’s obviously . . . ceruleanly charming.”
    â€œShe was telling me a long story about Shadowhunters being jerks and about parabatai . What do you think about the whole parabatai thing, anyway? The parabatai rune is like a friendship bracelet you can never take back.”
    â€œI think it sounds nice,” said George. “I’d like that, to have someone who would always watch my back. Someone who I could count