Cecelia Ahern - Flawed

“I forgot he was your boss. Anyway, they’re moving. You probably know that, too, so it’s hardly a punishment. Colleen will have to start at another school anyway.”

She shakes her head, seemingly appalled.

“Pia, there’s one other thing I’m worried about. Last night, when they stripped me”—I swallow hard, feeling the humiliation all over again—“they photographed me. They’ve seen the sixth brand and have proof of it.”

Pia focuses hard while she thinks it through.

“The thing is, they were afraid of it, they backed away after that. So I think they know not to say something, but sooner or later it’s going to come out. Natasha’s bound to let it slip to someone. She couldn’t keep a secret if you paid her.”

“But they don’t have the video,” Pia says. “We need to get our hands on that video. And we need to move on this story fast.” Pia starts pacing again. “We need to break it before they do. Before Crevan hears their rumors and has a chance to spin it, if he’s not working on that already.” She looks around the room to see if anyone can hear us. “This morning I learned that there’s an inquiry into Crevan,” she says, her voice a hush. “A private inquiry. The outcome of your case, Angelina Tinder, Jimmy Child, Dr. Blake, they’ve all got people talking.”

“Who’s Dr. Blake?” The name’s familiar. Granddad mentioned him to me during the trial. He said I needed to find Dr. Blake and somebody else. It didn’t seem important at the time. I was putting it down as his conspiracy ramblings, but I should have taken note.

“Dr. Blake is the woman who misdiagnosed Crevan’s wife, Annie,” she says. “Your granddad told me to look into her at your trial, and I fobbed him off as a crazy old man. I started looking into it, though, after meeting you. She didn’t catch the cancer in time. Crevan found her Flawed just before Jimmy Child’s case. She was found Flawed on another personal matter, much like Angelina Tinder was. The case had nothing to do with Crevan’s wife. I would never have caught the link until your granddad tipped me off.”

Good old Granddad , I think proudly. He was always on my side, but I, too, thought his views were extreme. If he got Dr. Blake right, perhaps he’s right about it all.

“Crevan is using the Guild as his own private court,” I say.

“I believe he was planning the Dr. Blake case for some time. The outcome gave him confidence to proceed with Angelina and Jimmy Child. He got away with them, but now people are questioning his decisions.”

I roll my eyes. “A Guild into the Guild?”

She smiles weakly. “Kind of. A private inquiry into a public one.”

“Well, let me guess the outcome. The Guild will find that the Guild acted perfectly and appropriately. Ta-da! Inquiry over.”

“It’s an investigation into Judge Crevan only. Members of the government feel he has been abusing his powers. Remember, this began as a temporary fix to look into wrongdoing. It has become far more than that and grown faster than the government has had time to control it. The lines are blurring between legality and Guild rules. The government wants to take back its power.”

“People like Enya Sleepwell.”

“Exactly. Because of pressure by her, a private commission has been set up to first investigate the cases privately.”

“Privately,” I sigh. “They hide well, these rational-thinking concerned people.”

“Not everyone is as brave as you are.”

I look for the sarcasm in her voice, but there isn’t any.

“You know.” She sits down. “A new journalist arrived on the online scene a few days ago. She’s getting popular, very quickly.”

“Jealous?”

“A bit.” She smiles. “She’s a fan of yours.”

I’m surprised. “Who is she?”

She takes out her tablet to show me. “Her name is Lisa Life.”

I snort.

“She’s on your side. She’s part of a new news site called X-It. They have millions of readers every day.”

She flicks through her tablet to show me the article. The headline reads, IF I WAS SUCH A HERO, THAT OLD MAN WOULD BE ALIVE NOW. I FAILED. Underneath that is a pretty picture of me sitting by Clayton Byrne’s grave site and lighting a candle, with the quote, “I helped an old man to a seat.” I hadn’t known I was being followed that day. I should have been more careful, especially after escaping school to visit the guards and Mr. Berry in Highland Castle. I read on.

The story is about how my actions on the bus have made the Flawed issue a human rights issue. Clayton Byrne’s death is the first recorded death of a Flawed through negligence of society, a society that was following rules. Yet those rules led to the death of a man. There’s a quote from Enya Sleepwell, “I’m not condoning what Celestine North did, but her actions, and recent comments, raise serious and valid points that must be questioned and answered by our government. If we are to question the rule of aiding a Flawed, then surely the entire system must be questioned.”

I look closely at the photograph of Enya and recognize her as the woman with the pixie cut who nodded to me each day in the crowd as I was jeered and jostled on my walk across the courtyard at Highland Castle.

“Lisa Life published this today,” she says, handing me a new article from a folder.

“Compassion and Logic: The Perfect Pairing. Our Perfect Leader?”

There is a photograph of me, looking strong and determined, standing in court. I don’t remember ever feeling how I look in the photograph. It’s a girl, no, a woman, whom I would trust, a woman I would think is strong and powerful. A woman who appears to know exactly what she’s doing. How deceiving appearances can be.

Pia dumps article after article on top of my lap, one after another, so quickly that I have time only to take in the headlines and the photographs before another lands on my knees. She spreads them out on the coffee table. More and more. Images of me, page after page of stories and familiar quotes, so much that I don’t recognize the person I’m seeing.

“This is all Lisa Life?” I feel embarrassed, feel my cheeks blush. It’s overwhelming to see all this support.

“No, not all of them. I gathered as many supportive articles as I could. There are many more, Celestine.”

I can’t believe that people I have never met think so highly of me. If they had seen me on my knees, begging and cowering in the shed in front of Logan, taking back everything I had done … Pia interrupts my dark thoughts. “Do you see what’s happening? The power you have and don’t even know it?”

I laugh bitterly and feel the ache in my ribs and in my pounding, pulsating head. Earlier this week I thought I could take on Crevan; all day today I’ve curled up in a ball and cried, admitted defeat.

“Power? I got locked up in a shed by four people in my class, and the police and the school don’t care. They can’t help me. Two people I love most in the world betrayed me. I can’t even stay out after eleven PM. I have no power , Pia.”

“Yes, you do. You know you do. The power doesn’t just lie in the sixth brand on your spine, but in the strength you’ve had in getting it. What you did on the bus, what you said at the trial, the way you faced Crevan. I’ve worked at the castle for ten years, and I’ve never seen anyone speak to him like that. Now use that power and hone it, because you’re going to need it with what’s to come.” She sighs. “The thing is…”

My heart hammers, and I brace myself.

FIFTY

“I’VE BEEN TRYING to meet with Mr. Berry,” continues Pia. “I’ve called his office, cell, home, every number I have for him, and there’s no answer. I went to his home, and his husband doesn’t know where he is. Says he’s been gone for weeks and hasn’t heard from him. None of Mr. Berry’s clients have heard from him, nor his staff, though they think he’s on a sudden holiday as he was inclined to do that, but I know that’s not the case this time. Not with what we know, Celestine.”