“How long has he been here?”
“A few weeks.”
“Weeks?” I ask, shocked. “And how much longer will he be here?”
“Whenever you’re finished. He’s a flight risk and has anger issues, obviously. Can’t risk letting him go. Been trouble ever since he got here. Serves him right, to be honest. If he didn’t act like such an animal, his case could have been pushed through by now. Now come along this way. You can get breakfast here, too.” She takes me by the elbow and pulls me along.
I look back at Carrick. He stares at me with his cold, hard eyes, chin raised, chest heaving up and down at the exertion of his fit of rage. Tina called him an animal, but I don’t blame him at all. A few weeks in this place and I’d start to behave like one, too. I try to give him a look of apology, but I’m not quite sure how to pull that off. I need words, and he and I have never shared any. I half-walk, half-run along as Tina pulls me. He stands still, hands on his hips, and watches me all the way out the door, probably wishing I’d never come back. Maybe his eyes really are black.
TWENTY
MY HEART IS pounding when I arrive at the cafeteria, and it is a remarkably different atmosphere from the one I just left. It feels like civilization, and I can hardly believe it was only yesterday morning that I, too, was walking around freely. People having breakfast meetings before work, lots of dark suits with heads close together, tablets out on every table. Free people who come and go when they want. And Art. Somewhere in this room is Art. My stomach flutters.
“He’s over there.” Tina points and backs away. “I’ll come back in half an hour so you can get ready for your big moment.”
I swallow hard at the thought of it.
I go in the direction Tina pointed me to, searching for Art, for his white-blond hair, for his turquoise-blue eyes, but I can’t find him anywhere. I’m aware of all the eyes on me as I weave my way between the tables. When I get to the end of the room, I look around, confused, then I start walking back again.
I feel a hand, a rough grip, around my wrist.
“Ow,” I say, pulling away. An old, wrinkled hand with protruding veins grips my arm. “Granddad!”
“Sit down,” he says harshly, but his face is soft.
I embrace him quickly and then slide into the seat before him, happy to see him but trying to hide my devastation that Art hasn’t come to see me. I wonder if it’s because he’s not allowed or because he doesn’t want to.
I don’t get to see Granddad as often as I used to after he and Mom had their falling-out last Earth Day. He’s welcome in our home, but only when invited, and he isn’t invited as much as he used to be. It is all on Mom’s terms now. Grandma passed away eight years ago, and he lives alone, tending to his dairy farm.
He looks around conspiratorially, and for once he’s not just being paranoid. Most of the people here are staring at us.
“We have to keep our voices down,” he says, moving his head close to mine. “Did you see this?”
He reaches inside his jacket and retrieves a newspaper. It’s folded lengthways, and he slides it across the table to me. “They won’t want you to see this one, that’s for sure.”
I open the paper and am shocked by what I see. My photograph takes up practically the entire front page, with only a small space for a dramatic headline and the rest of the story inside. My mouth falls open. The headline shouts, THE FACE OF CHANGE?
He slides another across to me. It’s a variation of the same photo, with the headline NORTH. NEW DIRECTION FOR FLAWED CAUSE.
“What? Which papers are these?” I ask, not recognizing them.
“You won’t see these papers around here,” he whispers. “They’re not Crevan’s. He doesn’t own them all, you know.”
“He doesn’t own any of them, Granddad. They’re his sister’s, Candy’s,” I correct him, scanning the articles.
“In name only. You’re about to learn Crevan’s more involved with those papers than anybody else is. You’re all over Crevan’s papers, too. However, their slant is slightly different. All about the girl who protects society from the Flawed. You’re a hero on both sides. Or a villain, depending on your opinion.”
Which explains the reason for the level of anger outside in the courtyard. I’ve annoyed just about every side you can imagine. Nobody comes to watch a Flawed cross the courtyard to support them.
Granddad’s conspiracy theories are what Mom fought with him about. It was fine and harmless for him to believe them on his own, on his farm, in the middle of nowhere, but when he kept bringing them to her doorstep, he was, as she said, bringing danger into our home. Particularly when he was sitting at the same table as Bosco. I thought it was funny at the time, the comments he used to make, but now I see why Mom was afraid.
The sight of me on the front pages is overwhelming, the things they are saying about me, how they are analyzing and dissecting my actions when I, who did what they’re talking about, gave it much less thought. If I am who they say I am, which side am I to believe? I don’t think either of them know me at all.
“Granddad, have you spoken to Juniper? Do you know anything? Is she okay? She won’t be a character witness for me. Does she hate me?”
“I haven’t seen her and I’m sure she doesn’t hate you. Your mother won’t let me into the house. I’ve tried, but she thinks I’ve lost my mind. It’s just that I’ve got all this. This proof.” He starts taking out scraps of paper from every pocket of his jacket, some cutouts, some with scribbles on them. “I’ve been collecting information. A lot of which I think will help you. Your mother won’t listen, but you need to. There are two very important names to remember, Celestine: Dr. Blake and Raphael Angelo. Forget Mr. Berry. They can help you with your case. We need to find them—”
“Granddad, stop please,” I say gently, closing my hands over his. “It’s going to be okay,” I say, sounding calmer than I feel. The Branding Chamber really shook me up yesterday, and I know it was a warning from someone. I’m not about to ignore that warning. “Bosco is helping me.” I keep my voice down incredibly low. “We’ve talked already. I just need to do what he and Mr. Berry say, and it will be okay.”
But the old man won’t be okay, my conscience tells me. The old man whom I’m about to accuse of breaking the Flawed rules. The man who reminded me of my own granddad. How could I do it to him? I push it to the back of my mind, knowing I must stay in survival mode.
Granddad snorts. “Celestine, whatever that man has promised you, I would not rely on it. He was double-crossed yesterday by his own two judges. Sanchez and Jackson have had enough of him and his double standards, and it will happen again. They’re not happy about his decisions lately. They feel he’s using his ties to the people to push through whatever decisions he wants, trying to convince the media of his beliefs, not to mention what he did to that poor newspaper editor’s wife. There’s a war brewing, Celestine. Don’t let them use you.”
“Bosco wouldn’t use me, Granddad.”
He studies me. “Do you believe in what you did, love?”
I look down. Then back at him and nod.
“What are you afraid of then?”
“Being Flawed! The pain, the scars, the rules, the curfew, the life, the Whistleblowers, losing my friends, people laughing at me, staring at me. Being thought of as one of them. Yesterday they made me listen to a man in the chamber, Granddad. He screamed so loud I’ll never forget it,” I say, my eyes filling.
“Ah, love,” he says, taking my hand. “They’re playing tricks on you, you know that. It’s all mind games. It’s about power. Control. This society we live in.”
He loses me with his conspiracy words again.
“Live with me,” he says, suddenly full of enthusiasm. “It’s a simple life, but you can live as you like, no one looking over your shoulder telling you what to do and who to love. I won’t bother with the curfews, don’t bother with the diet nonsense. You can go to bed when you like and get up when you like, eat what you like,
go out with whatever fella you like. It’s not like here in the city. You can be as free as you can be.”
“They have Whistleblowers in the country, too, Granddad,” I say gently, grateful for the thoughtful offer, but it’s not something I could even contemplate. “I can’t do it. I can’t be Flawed. And I’d miss Art. Tell me, have you seen him? Has there been anything about him in the paper? I thought maybe he’d visit me or send me a message or something.…” I chew on my nail.
Granddad goes quiet and studies me, concern in his eyes.
“I just…” I pull my finger from my mouth. “It’s not just a childish thing, you see, me and him, it’s serious. We have plans. We’ve talked about everything we want to do after school, together. I really, you know, love him.” I haven’t even said this to Art myself yet, but I will. As soon as I get out of here, it will be the first thing I’ll say as I feel it more now, away from him, than ever before.
Granddad looks sad. He reaches inside his pocket, and I wait to see another newspaper, but instead he slides an envelope across the table. “This is from him. I didn’t want to give it to you. They’re not your sort, Celestine, that family.” He shakes his head. “You’re better than them. But I can’t play God in your life. You have to make your own decisions now. And you’ve some big ones to make.”
I nod, barely hearing what he’s saying. I’m so excited about the letter, wanting him to leave so I can rip it open straightaway and see Art’s words.
“But just think about this, love: Do you think your friend Bosco will let you go near Art when you get out of here? Even if you’re not Flawed? I’d think twice about that if I were you. Prepare yourself. Nothing will go back to being exactly as it was before.”
I have thought about that, in the deepest, darkest corners of my mind, but as Art is the only thing keeping me going, thinking about losing him would tip me over the edge.
“You tell the truth in court today, Celestine. And if they tell you that you are Flawed, then you wear that like a badge of honor. Look at what these papers are saying! You are in a position to make change. You already felt that yourself. You went with your gut, with what felt right, and you have inspired people.”
“Inspired?” Tears fill my eyes. “An old woman spat at me yesterday, Granddad. A nice, decent old woman.”
“Well, then there was nothing decent about her. The people who want change are just begging you to be their girl. Don’t let the Guild wrap you up in their bloody red wings and make you think you’re one of them. You’re not, and you never will be. Seize the moment, Celestine, and say it. Give a voice to those who are silenced.”
His eyes are shining with excitement, filled with tears, filled with hope that his granddaughter can be this person he so wants me to be.
“I’m not like you and Juniper, Granddad,” I say sadly, feeling defeated. “This isn’t who I am. I follow rules, I like logic, I solve problems. I don’t speak out of turn on things I know nothing about. I don’t want to stand out. I want to fit in. I don’t want to be a poster girl for anything.”
“Oh, but you already are, Celestine. The tide is changing, and whether you wear the branding of the Flawed or you walk out of here a free woman, you’ll never be the same girl you were. They’ll be watching you, all of them, and who would you prefer they watch? You or the girl you’re pretending to be?”
TWENTY-ONE
Hi, Perfect Girl,
I hope you’re okay in there. I can’t believe they didn’t let you come home, but Dad says he’s doing everything he can for you. I want to be there for you, but I’m not allowed. Too much press, etc. Hope you understand, but I’m watching you on TV all the time. You look hot. I hope you’re wearing the anklet. You’ll always be perfect to me. Do whatever Dad and Berry Boy say, and we’ll be back on the summit before you know it.
I’m on your side.
Love always,
Art
PS-What did the elephant say to the naked man? How do you breathe through something so small?
I giggle and fold the letter into a tiny square and tuck it into my pocket. Love always! Love always!! Okay, it wasn’t I love you, but it’s close, isn’t it? Is it the same?
I don’t look at Carrick in the next cell, who’s lying on his bed with his back to everyone, no doubt hating me even more than he already did. Art’s words have given me hope that when I get out of here, there is a future for me and him. I hold on to that thought. I feel lifted, like I’ve been connected to the real world and this whole Flawed thing is a misunderstanding easily fixed. I don’t even notice Mom and Mr. Berry enter the cell; and when I look up, I realize it’s time.
“Green,” Mom says, displaying the most beautiful dress I have ever seen. “The color of nature, youth, spring, and hope.”
The dress is not entirely green. It contains the most beautiful scene, a picture of green leaves, flowers, exotic birds, a canvas of nature, of natural beautiful things.
“It’s also the color of envy,” Mr. Berry says, adjusting his green silk tie. “And that’s what we’ll be of every Flawed person in the country,” he says with a grin. “For today is the day, dear Celestine, that you will walk away from here exactly as you walked in.”
I find it a bad analogy. I will never be the same again. But maybe he wasn’t mistaken. I will be as judged when I leave as I was when I walked in. Granddad’s right. It will never end.
Before I leave the cell, I look at Carrick for something, a response of any kind. He is up from his bed now and his eyes run over my dress. I feel naked under his stare, but I can’t move.
He nods at me. A good-bye, a good luck, I don’t know, but it’s not angry. I nod back. I take a mental picture of him, knowing it’s the last time I’ll ever see him as our lives go in two very different directions.
* * *
Dad, Mom, me, and Mr. Berry, flanked on either side by Bark and Tina, stare at the closed double doors ahead of us. Something is going on, because Bark and Tina are holding riot shields, which seems to unsettle Mr. Berry. He checks his green tie at least five times. They all know something apart from me. As soon as the doors open, I see that the security and crowd have doubled since yesterday, as have the media. The crowds are being held back by barricades, and security wear helmets and hold bloodred riot shields in their leather-gloved hands. The sound from the crowd is unbearable. I can’t make out anything anyone is saying, but if you could trap anger in a jar, this is what you would hear each time you twisted the lid.
A can of something goes flying before us and emits steam. Security bundle around it, and we all quicken our step. Mom shows no sign of wobbling today, her head and chin are up. And as much as I want to keep my eyes down, she forces me to follow suit. If I can’t feel it inside, then I at least want to appear as strong as her. Today there are people shouting at me for being Flawed, and there are people shouting at me for hating the Flawed. The only thing in common between them is that they detest me and are here to see me branded Flawed and Ousted from society. Nobody comes here to offer support, it’s merely to vent frustration, to use me as a punching bag. I don’t know how Bosco and Pia’s media campaign is going in persuading people to think I’m the Guild’s hero, but judging by the reaction today, somebody is losing: me.
Despite my terror, I look around. Maybe if I can put faces to the sounds, it will make me feel better. I see Pia Wang reporting from her raised platform, in her perfect clothes, with her perfect hair, even more doll-like in reality. A familiar woman with a pixie cut nods at me again respectfully, just as she did yesterday. A strange-looking man at the barricades blows a kiss at me. There is something familiar about him, but I’m sure I have never seen him before. He has a beard and long hair, hippie-like, but he seems too youthful to have such growth on his face. He wears a childish, elephant-shaped woolen hat. The large, floppy, oversized elephant ears cover his ears, and a trunk protrudes from his head. It is a bizarre thing to see on a man his age, as well as at this time of year, when it’s not cold. As I near him, I
study him more, and he winks. It’s the blue eyes that give him away. Art. I knew he’d find a way to come. I almost stall in my tracks, but Mom and Mr. Berry keep me moving. I think of the elephant joke in his note and know that the hat is a reference to that and that he’s trying to cheer me up. It’s not something that’s going to make me laugh in this situation, but it lifts my spirits. I try hard not to smile, though.
“Celestine! Pia Wang from News 24,” she calls. The camera is on me, the red light on. “We’re live. Can you wave to the people at home?”
“Smile,” Mr. Berry says through his teeth, and I lift my face to the camera on the raised platform and give a small wave with a tiny smile. I don’t want to look like I’m enjoying this.
Like yesterday, there are plenty more flying objects, though the riot shields do a good job of blocking most of them. Still, some manage to splatter my dress, but Mom is prepared this time. As soon as we step inside, she whips out wipes and cleaning products, and I am once again immaculate. Once inside, it’s clear that we are all shaken. Mr. Berry asks for a glass of water and takes a moment to compose himself. Mom rushes to the bathroom.
Dad takes me aside.
“No matter what happens today, sweetheart, you know I’m proud of you. No matter what, I will love you,” he says with urgency.
“Thanks, Dad.”
He looks around, seems strained, unsure of whether to say something or not.
“Dad, tell me,” I say, voice low.
“I haven’t said much during all this. Your mom said it was better I don’t, but I think I need to. It’s just that … I don’t want you to think that because of what I do, it means that you can’t … that you can’t use your own voice. You understand?” He looks at me intensely. He looks exhausted, like he hasn’t slept in days. His eyes are bloodshot. “Bob took a stand at work, he wanted to use his own voice and … well, he was punished for that. Angelina was punished because of him. It was a warning to us all. I will defend you no matter what, Celestine. I have no problem with that. I’ll tell whatever news story Crevan tells me to do, because that’s my job and I try to protect Summer, you, Juniper, and Ewan, but don’t be me. You do what you have to do.”