“Who cares if you have a girlfriend, anyway?""I care," Simon said gloomily. "Pretty soon the only people left without a girlfriend will be me and Wendell the school janitor. And he smells like Windex.""At least you know he's still available."Simon glared. "Not funny, Fray.""There's always Sheila 'The Thong' Bararino," Clary suggested."That is who Eric's been dating for the past three months," Simon said. "His advice, meanwhile, was that I ought to just decide which girl in school has the most rockin' bod and ask her out.""Eric is a sexist pig," Clary said. "Maybe you should call your band The Sexist Pigs.""It has a ring to it.”

“Pretty soon the only people left without a girlfriend will be me and Wendell the school janitor, and he smells like windex.""At least you know he's still available.”

“Was it weird hearing from Jace?" asked Simon, his voice carefully neutral. "I mean, since you found out..."His voice trailed off.Yes?"said Clary, her voice sharply edged. "Since I found out what? That he's a killer transvestite who molests cats?"No wonder that cat of his hates everyone."Oh, shut up, Simon," Clary said crossly.”

“I just wanted to say that it's okay if you dislike me. If you make Clary happy, I'm fine with you." He stuck his hand out, and Jace took his own hand out of Clary's and shook Simon's, a bemused look on his face."I don't dislike you," he said. "In fact, because I actually do like you, I'm going to offer you some advice.""Advice?" Simon looked wary."I see that you are working this vampire angle with some success," Jace said, indicating Isabelle and Maia with a nod of his head. "And kudos. Lots of girls love that sensitive-undead thing. But I'd drop the whole musician angle if I were you. Vampire rock stars are played out, and besides, you can't possibly be very good."Simon sighed. "I don't suppose there's any change you could reconsider the part where you didn't like me?""Enough, both of you," Clary said. "You can't be complete jerks to each other forever, you know.""Technically," said Simon, "I can."Jace made an inelegant noise; after a moment Clary realized that he was trying not to laugh, and only semi-succeeding. Simon grinned. "Got you.""Well," Clary said. "This is a beautiful moment.”

“She winced and covered her ears as Eric,onstage, wrestled with his microphone."Sorry about that, guys!" he yelled. "All right. I'm Eric, and this is my homeboy Matt on the drums. My first poem is called 'Untitled.'" He screwed up his face as if in pain, and wailed into the mike. "Come my faux juggernaut, my nefarious loins! Slather every protuberance with arid zeal!"Simon slid down in his seat. "Please don't tell anyone I know him."Clary giggled. "Who uses the word 'loins'?""Eric," Simon said grimly. "All his poems have loins in them."'Turgid is my torment!" Eric wailed. "Agony swells within!""You bet it does," Clary said.”

“Maybe I could love you someday."If you ever do," he said, "come and let me know. You know where to find me."Her teeth were chattering harder. "I can't lose you, Simon. I can't."You never will. I'm not leaving you. But I'd rather have what we have, which is real and true and important, than have you pretend anything else. When I'm with you, I want to know I'm with the real you, the real Clary."She leaned her head against his, closing her eyes. He still felt like Simon, despite everything; still smelled like him, like his laundry soap. "Maybe I don't know who that is."But I do.”