Cecelia Ahern - Flawed

“I don’t think they’d want me there, Logan.”

“Well, I do,” he says firmly. “Are you coming or not?”

“Okay. I mean, yes. Thanks.” I feel my grin take over my whole face, and I just can’t stop. As soon as he leaves, I squeal and stamp my feet excitedly. Maybe things won’t be so bad after all. Maybe things can change.

I hear another sound in the library, and I call out. “Logan? Is that you?”

I walk to the end of the row of books and look left. I’m grabbed from the right and pulled around the corner to the next aisle. I’m about to shout when I’m faced with Art.

“Shhh,” he says, holding his finger up to my lips, and leads me down to the far corner of the library, behind the shelves, in the darkest corner.

THIRTY-FIVE

MY HEART IS pounding. I can’t believe it. I can’t wipe the grin off my face.

We’re so close I’m pressed up against the bookshelf. I feel a few books slide behind me as I push against them. Art looks tired, his hair not as bright, a bit grubby, his curls looking more like knots. There are dark circles around his eyes, like he hasn’t slept for weeks, and the mischievous glint is gone from his eyes; they’re flat. While I take him in, he does the same with me. He studies my temple, the one with the brand, and winces as if feeling my pain. His fingers come close to touching it, but they don’t make contact, just hover above my skin. His finger runs down my cheek to my lip, and he looks at my mouth with intensity. I know he’s thinking about my tongue brand.

“It’s still me,” I whisper.

“I know, I just…”

“It’s okay.”

There’s a silence, and I suddenly don’t know what to say. I’ve wanted to kiss him for so long, but now it doesn’t feel right, it feels different, he seems different, and I have so many questions, like where on earth has he been ?

“Who’s Logan?” he asks before I get a chance to speak. “You called out his name.”

“Oh, that’s just nobody. It doesn’t matter. Art, where have you been ?”

“What’s that?” He looks down at the invitation in my hands, reads it.

“Logan Trilby?” His face looks hard, angry.

“He was just being kind, Art,” I say quietly. “How did you get in here?”

He lightens up a little, but he seems flat. “The number of times I had to sit in here for study, I eventually found a way out.”

“I’ve been so worried about you. I didn’t know what was going on. I don’t know what is going on. Where have you been all this time? It’s been a week and a half.”

“I can’t tell you where I’ve been.”

“Why not?”

He looks around, paranoid. “Because they’ll ask you where I am, and I don’t want you to have to lie, to get into trouble again.”

“I couldn’t possibly be in any more trouble.”

Neither of us laughs.

“Please tell me.”

“I can’t. They’ll follow you to me. They’re watching you all the time.”

He leans in, and I think he’s going to kiss me. I watch his lips and wait for them to kiss my lips, but he moves away again.

“I’ve needed you,” he says.

“Me too.” I feel tears prick, feeling sorry for myself. “I feel like you just left me alone.…”

“I’m sorry. I just had to get away from him,” he says, stepping away, agitated. “I’ve been so confused, trying to figure it all out. I was so angry with you, Celestine.” He shakes his head. “Everything was perfect.”

I’m in so much shock I can’t speak. After what his dad did to me, he’s angry with me ?

“And I can’t even look at him knowing what he did to you. Five brands? Five?! That wasn’t just to hurt you, it was to hurt me, too.”

He doesn’t know about the sixth. I can’t tell him, his rage is so intense. I want to reach out to touch him, but for some reason I can’t.

“And I can’t live with you, either, knowing that my dad did this to you,” he says, taking a step back. “I’m in the middle of the both of you, and whatever I do, it will be wrong.”

“Art, listen to me,” I say, feeling the panic rising. I can’t lose him. If I lose him, then I’ll have nothing.

“No, you listen to me. What you did on the bus was right, but it was wrong for us. If you were selfish like me, you wouldn’t have done it. If I was as strong as you, I would have defended you. I would have stood beside you on that bus. Instead, I watched you do it all, in silence. I let the person I loved get dragged away.”

Loved? He loved me! Does he still? The celebration of that idea is killed by the uncertainty of whether it exists anymore.

“It’s not your fault, Art. None of it is your fault. I can’t lose you. What about school? What about university?” I plead with him. “We can do all the things we planned, and then you and I can go somewhere together, away from everyone else. We’ll take our time, build a plan.”

“Where, Celestine? Where exactly can you go?” he asks, and I detect anger at me again. “You can’t leave the country. And you can’t go anywhere without alerting the Whistleblowers. Every single Flawed person is accounted for at all times. You have to report your every move to them. If you move, you get a new Whistleblower. And if you do that, then he’ll know, too. He’ll always know where we are. We’ll never be free of him. He’ll make our lives hell.”

“We could make it work,” I say, holding on to him, trying to stop his pacing.

Just being with Art would be enough for me, even if I have to live under Flawed rules and Art doesn’t. Crevan couldn’t possibly make things any worse for us.

But there’s something else he has said that has my mind in overdrive, about every Flawed person having a Whistleblower, every Flawed being documented, their whereabouts known. I’m trying to find Carrick. Carrick will have a Whistleblower, his whereabouts will be documented. My heart pounds with excitement. “Art, can you help me find someone?”

“Who?”

“A Flawed guy. His name is Carrick.”

“Who?” His eyes narrow.

“Carrick. I don’t know his surname. He was beside me in the cells. I really need to find him.”

His jaw tightens. “Yeah? Become close, did you? Just like Logan?”

“Art!” I say, surprised.

“Forgive me, Celestine, if I don’t know exactly who you are anymore, if I have to question you.”

“You know exactly who I am.” I swallow hard.

He examines me again. He sighs and closes his eyes, the stress clinging to him, weighing him down. I don’t know where he’s been staying, but there’s an earthy smell to his clothes.

“Carrick was kind to me, Art. I was alone in there and so was he, and he looked out for me. I just want to say thank you to him. I just want to know … what it’s like for him. If it’s the same for him as it is for me. It would be nice to talk to someone who understands—”

“You think that I don’t understand you? Forget it.” He walks away. “Do you know how hard it was for me to come here today? Dad has people out looking for me everywhere. Do you know what I risked? What I’ve risked for you period? And in the middle of my trying to explain, you ask me to help you find some Flawed guy you met in a cell? You’re going to parties like nothing’s happened? Well, I’m delighted everything is fine for you,” he says sarcastically, storming down the aisle.

I’m stunned at first but then chase him, realizing I’ll lose him. By the time I reach the end, he is out of sight, completely gone. I check every aisle. He’s gone. I’ve lost him. I run up and down each aisle, feeling dizzy, wondering how he disappeared, when I finally come upon a narrow metal door, like a service door. I pull at the handle, expecting it not to budge, but it opens and brings me to the service area where Mr. Murray, the groundskeeper, does his recycling and stores his tools and equipment. He is ripping up enormous cardboard boxes, flattening them and piling them on the ground.