Cecelia Ahern - Perfect

“I thought that saving your life would show you how sorry I am, you know, so we wouldn’t have to do the talking thing,” he says, biting his lip to hide his cheeky smile.

“Um, you actually didn’t save my life. They were going to do a skin graft, not kill me. But I appreciate being rescued all the same.”

“Nothing’s good enough for you,” he says, amused.

I hold my hand out to his chest, palm against his brand. “ You are. I wanted to blame somebody for all this. Someone other than my stupid self. I love my family, I never wanted to leave them. I’m not used to being by myself; it’s easier when it’s somebody else’s fault.”

I think of Juniper alone in the hospital and I shudder. Have they discovered that she’s not me yet? I hope the plan holds firm and that Tina can help to make it work. I know I won’t be able to relax until I know that both my mom and Juniper are safe.

“And I’m only ever used to being by myself,” he says. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, holding me tighter, “for what happened at the supermarket, for leaving you in the mountains. But if it’s any consolation, I followed you the whole way. And you were driving way too fast down the mountain in that Mini, by the way.”

“I was on a mission.”

“I saw you with Art,” he says, studying me.

I don’t say anything.

“I heard you with Crevan.”

I look down, embarrassed that my rogue plan didn’t work. “Crevan knows about you. I’m sure he’s guessed that you’re helping me. I’m sorry. I tried to bargain with him for our freedom, which he was willing to give us, but I couldn’t leave everybody else behind. I couldn’t do it.”

I wait for him to yell at me What a stupid thing to do, Celestine , but he doesn’t.

“Go on, tell me I’m an idiot.”

“You’re brave to have tried.”

“Stupid.”

“A little bit stupid.” Except I hear the smile in his voice. “But you were right not to take the deal. As much as I want to run away to another country and live completely freely, I couldn’t do it knowing that everybody else was left behind.”

I’m relieved that I made the right decision. “The other night, in your cabin, was one of the best nights of my life,” I say.

He reaches down to my face, lifts my chin, and kisses me tenderly.

I close my eyes and savor the moment—who knows when we’ll get to do this again?

“So why have you taken us here?” I ask as we pull away and gather ourselves.

“I want you to meet someone.”

“Who?”

“Enya Sleepwell.”

FORTY-SEVEN

IT USED TO be a cell phone shop. It’s closed down, there’s a FOR SALE sign in the window, and the glass has been painted over so no one can see in.

“She’s in here?” I ask, confused. I’d have thought the possible future leader of our country would be somewhere more refined.

“When you have as many Flawed supporters as she does, you can’t just meet them anywhere. She has to be careful.”

He rings the bell and the door opens immediately. Carrick still has to assist me in my walking, but my strength has grown, and I limp along with him.

As soon as we’re inside, I’m surprised by the setup. Desks and chairs everywhere, whiteboards showing stats and opinion poll results. Laptops hooked up to every socket around, and because it was an electronics shop, there are plenty. No one even bats an eye at me and Carrick, they’re so busy watching a large plasma on the wall.

On-screen is the interview with Judge Crevan and Erica Edelman. He’s wearing a sharp suit, a blue shirt and tie that make his blue eyes shine and glisten under the lights. Someone you can trust. Erica is in a neat skirt and blouse, toned legs, perfectly blow-dried hair. One of our most famous anchorwomen, she has her own show, and every politician fears her because she reduces them to schoolchildren.

I look around for Enya Sleepwell but I can’t find her. I don’t even know what I’ll say to her. Carrick and the others show such loyalty to her, but all I’ve ever felt from others like Alpha and Raphael is that she hasn’t quite earned her place yet to be trusted. Some accuse her of using the Flawed cause to climb her way up, which is fine if she sticks to her guns once she gets to the top.

We stand at the back of the crowd and watch the interview. I lean against the wall to prop me up.

Crevan and Erica Edelman walk around the place where he grew up, recorded footage from days earlier. He shows her the house he grew up in, his football trophies, photographs of his grandparents, things to make us think he’s a human with a bloodline. And then back to the studio. Only it’s not the studio. It’s his living room. The grand living room that is rarely used. The beautiful fireplace, bookshelves, the walls filled with photographs of Art as a baby, moved closer together to be caught on Crevan’s close-ups. I note that the photos of me have been removed.

“Mr. Crevan, starting off, let’s get to know a little about you. Even the name is unusual. Where did Bosco come from?”

I like that Erica calls him Mr. Crevan and not Judge; it immediately removes him of his weaponry, makes him human again, and I know each time she addresses him as such it will bother him, hammer him down an inch or two into the ground.

“From my grandmother. She was Italian, Maria Bosco, a good Italian name, and so my parents wanted to honor her, a great woman.”

“Maria Bosco, wife of Mitch Crevan, whose idea it was to begin the Guild.”

“Indeed. It was him and the great prime minister Dunbar who brought in the first Guild, the tribunal, which was initially a temporary measure to look into wrongdoing within the government.”

“And it was your father who brought it further.”

“It was my father who upgraded it to permanent status and, along with others who played important roles, brought it to what it is today, yes.”

Erica looks at him deeply, her brown eyes probing into his soul. “Tell me, Bosco, what was your childhood like?”

“We had a very happy childhood, two brothers and one sister, Candy.…” And he explains the story of a happy family who worked hard but reaped the rewards.

“You paint quite the glossy picture, Mr. Crevan,” Erica says. “Let’s go back to your younger years. Tell me about the punishments you endured at the hands of your father and grandfather.”

Crevan laughs. “You make it seem so … draconian. It was the same disciplinary action that my father received from his father, and indeed my grandfather at the hands of his father. It wasn’t…” He shrugs. “There were worse styles of disciplining around at that time, believe me.” He smiles, trying to get off the subject.

“Tell me about it,” she pushes.

He sits back, sits straighter, casting his mind back. “It was a method of discipline based on the seven main character flaws. Whatever our misbehavior or misdemeanor was, we had to wear a sign around our neck that displayed what our flaw was.”

“You wore this sign around the house?”

“No, no.” He smiles as if it’s a humorous memory. “We had to wear it everywhere. Soccer practice, school, you name it. I remember Candy going out on a first date with ‘Greed’ hanging around her neck.” He laughs. “And Damon wearing ‘Stubborn’ around his neck during a soccer tournament. But we quickly learned. And what I mean by that is that we quickly learned how to identify our behavior, we learned what our ‘chief features’ were at an early age and how to control them.”

“At thirteen years of age, you learned this?”

“At thirteen it was introduced to us. I think it took some time for us to learn it.” He laughs again.

“Tell me about these character flaws, the chief features that you mentioned, and the purpose of the punishment.”