Cecelia Ahern - Perfect

Cordelia howls for her child.

Some of the other Whistleblowers seem to look at Art and Evelyn in amusement, though they are all human and I hope, behind those helmets, some are finding it heart-wrenching.

“Look, can’t we just take them both together?” Art asks, and his voice breaks my heart. “The mother and the child?”

“Yes! Yes!” Cordelia leaps up from her knees, eager to be taken away, ready to be taken to the ends of the earth if it means staying with her child.

I’d longed to hear his voice for so long and now it’s here, under these circumstances. He looks strange in the uniform. Like a young boy dressing up as a soldier; no wonder the helmet fell off, even with the huge mop of hair I don’t think it fits him. He’s the same age as Carrick but he’s no soldier, he’s baby-faced, never serious about anything. The only time he ever truly concentrated was when he played his guitar, and even then he made up ridiculous songs, his favorite being about the polka-dot zebra. The elephant with no trunk, the tiger that got a manicure, the giraffe that couldn’t find a turtleneck to fit, the broccoli that wouldn’t eat its vegetables. That kind of thing.

This situation isn’t suited to Art, this is too real-life for him. No awkward jokes can get him out of this. He’s ripping a child from her mother. He’s been in that position: He lost his mother. He can’t do it. He won’t do it.

“Take me instead,” a voice suddenly booms from the opposite side of the gate. Rogan appears. He was out; he was free. What is he doing?

The Whistleblowers turn to stare at him.

“I’m an F.A.B. child, too,” he says, voice cracking with fear, but he’s trying to appear strong.

“Rogan! No!” Carrick’s mother screeches.

“What the hell is he doing?” Carrick says, moving from his position, and it’s my turn to pull him down. It takes Lennox to hold him down as well.

“Leave Evelyn here. Take me,” Rogan says, pleading with them all. “I’m fourteen years old. My parents are Flawed. I’ve been living outside the system all my life. Take me!”

Mary May barely glances at him. She gives a signal and the Whistleblowers all move out, ignoring Rogan as they pass him by, some bumping against his shoulders, knocking him about, teasing him as they pass.

“Take me!” he shrieks now in a high-pitched, desperate voice, arms out in surrender.

They move by him and load themselves into the vans.

“Am I not good enough for you?” he yells. “My brother was good enough, but I’m not?”

I look at Carrick, who is shaking his head angrily, eyes black as coal.

Kelly runs to her youngest son and wraps her arms around him, both of them barely able to stand with the tears. Rogan is exhausted from the shouting.

Evelyn is taken into the van, her screams still audible from outside. Cordelia sobs uncontrollably, back on her knees on the ground. It reminds me of when my neighbor Angelina was torn away from her family in front of my very eyes. The sound of children screaming for their mother, the anguished sound of a mother’s heart being ripped apart. Angelina’s detainment had been the first moment with Whistleblowers that I’d witnessed. I’m going to make sure this is my last.

The red vans drive away, taking Evelyn with them.

TWENTY-SEVEN

“WHAT THE HELL did you do?” Back in the recreation room, Carrick pushes Bahee up against the wall. We’ve gathered here, wild and angry with one another, nobody trusting anybody, to try to make some sense of this. Bahee yelps as his tiny frame is crushed.

“Please.” Bahee holds up his hands in self-defense as Lennox, Fergus, Lorcan, and Mona gather around him, like scavengers eyeing their dinner. I hover in the background, too stunned to say or do anything. I’m feeling so guilty to have brought this upon everyone, even if it was Bahee who pulled the trigger. He would never have done it if I wasn’t here.

“I can’t breathe … I can’t…” he squeals.

“Carrick,” his dad says, warning.

Carrick loosens his grip around Bahee’s neck and the blood drains from Bahee’s face as he fights to catch his breath.

“I didn’t know it would work out this way; this wasn’t the arrangement,” he says nervously, and Cordelia cries to herself, hugging Evelyn’s pink bunny rabbit close to her body. “You know I adore Evelyn. I would never have arranged for this to happen. Please believe that I did it for the right reasons.” He hardens. “ She shouldn’t be here.” He points a finger at me, and they look at me. “I know you all agree. Nobody wanted to say it, but I will. She shouldn’t be here. We’ve been safe for years , and she was about to ruin everything.”

“No, you ruined everything,” Carrick says, through gritted teeth, giving Bahee one last hard shove against the wall before releasing his grip and charging away.

“They would have found her eventually,” Bahee says, trying to get everyone on his side, growing in confidence as he’s given the chance to defend himself. “Of course they would have. Celestine has the most recognizable face in the country, someone would have seen her and told the Guild. I just did it in a way that protected this family forever.”

“Family,” Mona spits out. “You’re living in cuckoo land.”

“You should have consulted us on a decision like that,” Adam says, and I’m surprised that Carrick’s dad isn’t immediately defending my presence. “And I’m afraid, son”—he turns to Carrick—“that you should have consulted us in bringing Celestine here.”

Carrick is stunned, then very quickly becomes angry. “Consulted you ?” He steps forward, fists clenched.

“Son,” Adam warns, looking at Carrick’s fists.

“He’s not your son,” Rogan says quietly, back in his darkened corner, sitting on the bean bag.

Carrick turns to him. “Say that again and you’ll be sorry.”

“You’re. Not. His. Son,” Rogan says, slower and louder. He stands up. “ I’m his son. You showed up, what, two weeks ago? I’ve been by their side all my life. Do you know what I sacrificed to be his son? School, friends, a normal life. I’ve had a lifetime of hiding underground. Moving every few weeks, months if we were lucky. While you got to live like a king. I’ve seen those institutions on TV: swimming pools, restaurants, holidays, skiing. What did you have to give up?” he shouts.

Kelly lets out a pained sound and covers her ears as her sons argue.

“What did I give up?” Carrick asks, as if Rogan’s stupid. “My parents,” he yells so loudly that even Cordelia stops crying and looks up. “People who loved me. I was five years old, alone and afraid. You think that was fun for me? I waited for my mom and dad to come get me, and they never did. I was told every day that my parents were monsters. You think I was treated like a king? I had no one . I didn’t trust anyone. Every day I was fed so many lies I didn’t know who to believe. So forgive me if I have no sympathy for you. I gave up my freedom to find you all, and I get here to discover that my parents already have a son . That the whole time I thought they were missing me, they’d already started again. That’s what I sacrificed.” He turns to his dad. “And for that, I expected some trust, for you to believe that I was bringing someone important here.” The veins in Carrick’s neck pulsate, his fists tightly clenched. Everyone gives him space, like he’s a monster about to explode.

“I understand your feelings for Celestine,” his dad says quietly, patiently, as if everyone has forgotten that I’m still in the room.

“Forget about my feelings . This is not about me having some crush . You’ve no idea the power Celestine holds over Crevan, the importance she has in the Flawed movement.”