@jocelynfairchld
Jonathan knew his mother regretted signing him up for gymnastics a few years back. It had been a move of desperation though. He was restless and had a nearly endless energy supply.
After he’d started getting in fights back when he’d first started school his mother had put him in sports. It had been a teachers suggestion, albeit not a well thought out one. Baseball had ended in the catcher having multiple broken bones, football ended in another player breaking multiple bones, and hockey...well suffice to say he wasn’t allowed to go skating anymore.
It had been Luke’s suggestion in the end and his mother’s desperation that had put him in activities like gymnastics, dance, and swimming. Of course he still got into fights though and in the end that lead to being grounded. Gymnastics had rendered being grounded useless.
His room had a window, the window with the fire escape. Sure it was rickety and was missing one of the ladders but he was able to make his way down it usually.
That night had been yet another of his nights evading the near house arrest. He’d gone out to Pandemonium, danced with everyone he could and gotten into a fight with some guy. That fight was really the last thing he distinctly remembered before he was waking up on some bench, shivering against the cold night air.
Checking his phone he found out it was three am, only a few hours left before he’d have to be home to go to school. Grumbling he’d gotten up and limped home.
The second he got there he could tell something was wrong though. It just felt wrong. He tried his key in the lock and it didn’t work, even after he flipped it and retried it a few times. It was after about ten attempts that he gave up and just picked the lock.
Things inside were just wrong too. His second pair of shoes weren’t by the door, his jacket wasn’t hanging on the coat rack either. Had Clary moved them as a joke? Had mom found out he’d left and done it to mess with him? Even the jacket he’d given Clary last year for her birthday was gone.
Shrugging it off was all he could really do as he kicked off his boots and limped towards the kitchen. Without the leather boots on he could see that his ankle was slightly swollen.
Mom was in the kitchen, leaning staring out the window with a sort of glazed expression. Frowning a bit he opened the fridge, grabbing an apple.
“Hey mom.”