Cecelia Ahern - Flawed / Perfect

“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 Mum 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 Mum’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 recognising them.

“You won’t see these 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 Mum 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 Mum was afraid.

The sight of me on the front pages is overwhelming, the things they are saying about me, how they are analysing and dissecting my actions when I, who actually did these things, gave them much less thought. If I am who they say I am, which side am I to believe? I don’t think either of them knows 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 cut-outs, 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 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 media to push through whatever decisions he wants, trying to convince the people 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 straight away 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.”