Flawed (7 page)

The fact that he is young makes me sit up. I want him to see me. I want to share a look, a glance, something to comfort him, and to comfort me. The guards aren't as polite and gentle with him as they were with me, and this, selfishly, gives me hope that this has all just been a great big misunderstanding and I'll be able to walk out of here as normal. I watch him, his mean, tough, bold face, and will him to look at me. I wonder what he has done. It can't be a criminal act or he wouldn't be here, but it must have been close. Whatever he has been accused of doing, I have no doubt that he has done it.

He looks up at me once he steps into his cell and sees me through the transparent wall we share. My heart flips. Contact with somebody, for the first time in hours. But as quickly as he sees me, he looks away again and strides with his long, lean legs and sits with his back flat against the transparent divide, so that all I can see are his back muscles, rippling through his soiled T-shirt.

Insulted, scared, and suddenly feeling even more alone, I sense the tears start again. They comfort me; they make me feel human and remind me that I am human, even in here, in this box within a series of boxes.

The guards lock his door and leave. They disappear out the main door and I'm alone again, but this time with a boy who won't look at me.

The main door opens, and I see Mom, her face worried and frantic, and my dad, stern, wide jaw working overtime to contain himself. As soon as Mom sets her eyes on me, she becomes composed again, like she's taking a walk in the park and enjoying her surroundings, so I know that it must be bad. When Dad sees me, his face collapses. He's never been one to hide his feelings. Tina unlocks my cell door, and as they enter I rush to hug them both.

“Oh, Celestine,” she says, voice laden with grief, as she squeezes me tightly. “What on earth possessed you?”

“Summer,” Dad says harshly, to which she reacts as if she has been slapped.

I feel stung, too. The first real contact I've had since this happened and I was hoping for defense, for backup, not for an attack, not for my own mother to agree with them and point the finger at me. I knew that I was in trouble, but now it is really setting in.

“Sorry,” she says gently. “I didn't mean to, but it is just so out of character for you. Juniper told us what happened.”

“It didn't make any sense,” I say. “The whole thing defied logic.”

Dad smiles sadly.

“The man was coughing. Wheezing. He was about to pass out, probably die, and the fat woman and the broken-leg woman just kept on ignoring him! They were in his seat!” I'm talking quickly, leaning forward, in their faces, trying to make them understand. I'm almost pleading with them to see my side of the story, telling them how disgusting and unfair the entire thing was. I get up and pace. I start the story from the start, elaborating, maybe exaggerating, maybe the fat woman was fatter, maybe the coughs were more life-threatening, I try to get them to see what I saw, to say that they understand, that if they were in my shoes, they would have done the same. To tell me I am not Flawed.

Dad is watching with tears in his eyes. He is struggling with all this. It is Mom who jumps up suddenly and grabs me by the shoulders. Surprised by her grip, I look around and notice that the guy in the cell beside me is no longer sitting with his back to me but is instead on his bed, where he can see us. I wonder if he has in some way understood what I said, if he read my lips, but Mom grips me tighter and turns my focus back to her.

“Listen up.” Her voice is a low, urgent whisper. “We don't have time. Judge Crevan is coming to see you in a few minutes, and you have to use every charm you've got. Forget everything we taught you. Right now, forget about right and wrong. This is for your
life
, Celestine.”

I have never seen or heard Mom like this, and she's scaring me. “Mom, it's just Bosco, he'll under—”

“You have to tell him you were wrong,” she says urgently. “You have to tell him you know you made a mistake. Do you understand?”

I look from her to Dad in shock. Dad is covering his face with his hands.

“Dad?”

“Cutter, tell her,” Mom says quickly.

He slowly lowers his hands and looks so sad, so broken. What have I done? I crumple into Mom's arms. She moves me to a chair at the table.

“But if I tell Bosco I was wrong, it will mean admitting I'm Flawed.”

Dad finally speaks. “If he finds out that
you feel you were right
to do what you did, then he will brand you Flawed.”

“Don't lie about what you did, but tell him you made a mistake. Trust me,” Mom whispers, afraid of being overheard.

“But … the old man.”

“Forget the old man,” she says sternly, so coldly, so devoid of all the love that I know her to have, that I don't recognize her, and for that I don't recognize the world. They are my roots, my foundations, and they sit before me now uprooted and saying things I never thought they'd say. “You will not allow a Flawed to ruin your life,” she says, and her voice cracks.

We sit in silence as Mom tries to compose herself, to put the mask back on. Dad rubs her back smoothly, rhythmically, and I sit there, stunned. My thoughts are barely thoughts at all as they hop unfinished from one to the other over what they have just told me.

They want me to lie. They want me to say that what I did was wrong. But to even tell a lie is to be Flawed. To gain my freedom, I must for the first time become Flawed. It doesn't make sense. It is illogical.

The main door opens, and Mom and Dad bristle. Judge Crevan is coming.

 

FOURTEEN

I NOTICE THE
boy in the cell sit up, too. I see the flash of red before I see him. Judge Crevan is like a winged man with his floating bloodred cloak. I see his sparkling blue eyes and his blond hair, and I think of Art and I feel at home. He smiles at me through the glass, his eyes crinkling at the sides as they always do, and inside I relax. I feel safe.

“Celestine,” he says as soon as Tina lets him into the cell. He flashes his perfect white teeth and spreads his arms, and as he does, he looks like he's lifting his wings, about to take off. I run straight into them, and he closes his arms, the red robe wrapped around me. I feel protected. In his cocoon. It will be all right. Bosco will take care of me. He won't let this go any further.

As he hugs me, my cheek is pushed up against the rough crest on his chest. I am face-to-face with the Guild's crest and motto, “Purveyors of Perfection.”

He kisses the top of my head and releases me.

“Right, let's sit. We have a lot to discuss, Celestine.” He fixes me with one of his infamous stern gazes, and just as I always felt before, it looks comical, cartoonish. This is not the man I'm used to seeing in his house.

I hide the nervous smile that is twitching at my lips. Laughing now would not be good.

“Things are going to be very difficult for you over the next few days, but we'll get you through them, okay?”

He glances at Dad, who suddenly looks completely exhausted, and I think for the first time what he's had to tell people at work. How can he run a news station when his own daughter is headline news?

I nod.

“You'll have to listen to me and do as I say.”

I nod again, feverishly.

“She will,” Mom says firmly, sitting poker straight in her chair.

Bosco looks at me to respond.

“I will.”

“Good. Now.” He takes out a tablet and taps and swipes his documents. “This nonsense on the bus this morning.” He sighs and shakes his head. “Art told me all about it.”

I'm not surprised by this. Art wouldn't have had a choice in the matter, and I am sorry again by how my actions have affected the people I love. I assume Art told him the truth. Art would never lie to his dad, but would he to protect me? I'm suddenly unsure of the story I am to tell, particularly after being told by my parents to lie.

“Unfortunately, already there are people using your connection to Art to take advantage and undermine the work of the Guild. The minority, of course. You may be used as a pawn in their game, Celestine.” He looks at my parents and then back to me. “This is just extremely bad timing in light of the Jimmy Child verdict this morning, where people think I was too lenient. But, Celestine, you have always been one of my greatest supporters. You're going to be just fine.”

I smile, relieved.

“I have my notes, but I want you to tell me what happened this morning.”

I wonder what Art has said, but then I settle for the truth, hoping I'm not getting him into trouble. After all, there were thirty other people on the bus who will testify to seeing exactly the same thing. All I have to say is that I know I was wrong. That
should
be easy.

“There were two ladies sitting in the Flawed seats. One had broken her leg and sat there because there was room to extend her leg, and the other was her friend. An old Flawed man got on the bus. He had nowhere to sit. He started coughing. He could barely stand. He was getting worse and worse. I asked the lady who didn't have the broken leg—”

“Margaret,” Bosco interrupts me, staring at me intently, his eyes moving from my eyes to my lips, narrowed in suspicion, analyzing my every word, every facial expression, every little movement. I concentrate on the story.

“Right. Margaret. I asked her if she would move so he could sit down.”

“Why?”

“Because—”

“Because he was disturbing the passengers on the bus, that's why,” he interrupts. “Because his Flawed, disgusting, infectious cough was infecting the good people in our society, and you were concerned about them and yourself.”

I pause, mouth open, unsure of what to say. I look at Mom and Dad. Mom is nodding coolly, and Dad's bloodshot eyes are focused on the table, not giving anything away. I don't know what to say. This is not what I expected.

“Continue,” Bosco says.

“So she wouldn't move, and eventually I called out for a doctor—”

“To stop his disgusting condition from spreading,” he says. “You were thinking of the people on the bus. Protecting them from the dangers of the Flawed.”

I pause.

“Continue.”

“So then I called for the driver to stop the bus.”

“Why?”

“To help—”

“To get him off the bus,” he snaps. “To get rid of him. So that the air of your fellow passengers would be cleaner, wouldn't be polluted. You are, in fact, a hero. This is what the people outside believe now. This is the story that Pia has been telling for the past two hours. People are gathering outside to see you, the hero who stood up to the Flawed.”

My mouth drops and I look across at Dad, now understanding why he looks so shattered. Has he spent the whole morning spinning this story?

“But there's a problem,” Bosco says. “You helped him into a seat. A seat for the flawless. And that is where my colleagues and I cannot agree, and I have spent the past hour discussing it with them. We have failed to mention this part to Pia, but, of course, there are at least a dozen people on that bus who will come forward with the story. They probably even have video.”

He looks at my dad again and my dad nods. He has received video already, something recorded on someone's phone on the bus and sent directly into the news station. He's probably spent the morning fighting for it not to be shown. He knows what will happen if it is.

“Rest assured, your dad will do everything in his power to make sure that video doesn't hit the airwaves.” It sounds like a threat.

“I told you I'm doing everything that I can,” Dad says, looking him firmly in the eye.

Bosco holds his stare; they look at each other coldly.

Mom clears her throat to snap them out of their stare.

“So,” Bosco says, “after hearing that testimony, I would say this accusation is a grave injustice, as someone who was, in fact,
aiding the Guild
cannot be condemned to a life as Flawed. However, my fellow judges disagree. With me and with one another. Currently, Judge Jackson, who is normally a sound man, regards your act as a moral misjudgment and would like a Flawed verdict. Judge Sanchez sees your act as aiding and assisting a Flawed, which carries a punishment of imprisonment.”

Mom gasps. I freeze. Dad doesn't do anything. He probably already knew this.

“As you know, the minimum prison term for aiding a Flawed is eighteen months, and considering this act was carried out so publicly, on public transport, in full sight of thirty people, it carries the highest offense. We have argued this back and forth.” He sighs, and I hear the weariness, the genuine discontent, for what is happening. “And we have reached an agreement of three years. But you will be released in two years and two months.”

 

FIFTEEN

“WHAT?” I SAY.
Two years in prison?
But it's like I'm not there; they're talking about me like I'm not there.

“It is unfortunate timing for Celestine to have … slipped up,” he says to Mom and Dad. “The vultures out there are willing to make an example of Celestine. Pia can only hold her ground for so long. Cutter, you and your team, of course, are pulling your own weight and covering the story as you always should, but there is extreme opposition from the other side. This isn't so much about Celestine being on trial as the Guild being on trial, and we cannot allow that. We cannot allow that.” He sits up, puffs out his chest. “Cutter, I'll need your team to step it up. Candy has commented on the fact there has been some recent … upheaval at the station. I think, for the sake of your daughter, the reporting should be in strict keeping with the style and philosophy of the network. No wandering off…”

Is that a threat? Did I just hear Bosco threaten Dad? Candy is Bosco's sister; she's in charge of the news network. My head snaps around to look at Dad, and it appears as though there's another version of him underneath his skin just trying to get out but is being contained, restrained with force.