Mom gasps. I freeze. Dad doesn’t do anything. He probably already knew this.
“As you know, the minimum prison term for aiding a Flawed is eighteen months, and considering this act was carried out so publicly, on public transport, in full sight of thirty people, it carries the highest offense. We have argued this back and forth.” He sighs, and I hear the weariness, the genuine discontent, for what is happening. “And we have reached an agreement of three years. But you will be released in two years and two months.”
FIFTEEN
“WHAT?” I SAY. Two years in prison? But it’s like I’m not there; they’re talking about me like I’m not there.
“It is unfortunate timing for Celestine to have … slipped up,” he says to Mom and Dad. “The vultures out there are willing to make an example of Celestine. Pia can only hold her ground for so long. Cutter, you and your team, of course, are pulling your own weight and covering the story as you always should, but there is extreme opposition from the other side. This isn’t so much about Celestine being on trial as the Guild being on trial, and we cannot allow that. We cannot allow that.” He sits up, puffs out his chest. “Cutter, I’ll need your team to step it up. Candy has commented on the fact there has been some recent … upheaval at the station. I think, for the sake of your daughter, the reporting should be in strict keeping with the style and philosophy of the network. No wandering off…”
Is that a threat? Did I just hear Bosco threaten Dad? Candy is Bosco’s sister; she’s in charge of the news network. My head snaps around to look at Dad, and it appears as though there’s another version of him underneath his skin just trying to get out but is being contained, restrained with force.
“Candy has quite rightly given Bob Tinder some time off due to personal issues. With the atmosphere being as it is now, I need him to be on his toes, performing at a high level to keep the gossipmongers and the opportunists at bay. The naysayers assume that Celestine will get away with this, that the Flawed court isn’t entirely fair. She is the girlfriend of the son of the judge; she will get special treatment. And that is really what I want to do, Celestine,” he says sadly, genuinely sad. “You make Art happy, the only person who can do that since his mother passed, and I know that he thinks the world of you. But, unfortunately, my colleagues, my own people, also see you as a pawn. They see you as the perfect example to show our doubters how the system is fair. How even the seemingly perfect girlfriend of the son of the head judge can be deemed Flawed. I am fighting two sides, dear Celestine.”
I swallow hard.
“And I agree that no one can be seen to be above the Guild. No one can be seen to escape the justice of the Guild.”
I think of the definition of what the Guild is: It is not a function of the Guild to administer justice; its work is solely inquisitorial. I want to say it aloud, but I know I shouldn’t. Now is not the time for my black-and-white logic, though shouldn’t it be?
“Do you realize just how much trouble you are in, child?” Bosco asks.
“Child,” I say suddenly. “They can’t send me to prison. I’m not eighteen for another six months.”
“Celestine,” he says, “an individual over sixteen can be deemed Flawed, and for a punishment of imprisonment, we can delay the start date until the day of your eighteenth birthday.”
Bosco had said I could have a party on his yacht for my eighteenth birthday. Instead, I could be spending my first night as an adult in prison. I don’t deserve this. Do I? Does anybody? Angelina certainly didn’t.
I look over at the boy in the next room, who is sitting on his bed with his head down. I wonder how long he has been here, I wonder what he did. Bosco follows my gaze. As if sensing our stares, the boy looks up and looks directly at Bosco with a cold, hard stare, eyes filled with hate. Bosco matches the boy’s look but holds such disgust and contempt for him that I shrivel and almost want to apologize on his behalf.
“You shouldn’t be in here with such scum,” Bosco says simply, and I’m glad the boy can’t hear.
“What did he do?”
“Him? He’s Flawed to the bone,” he says, disgusted. “Though he doesn’t know it yet. I don’t even need to listen to the facts of the case to know his type. I can see it in him. Not like you, Celestine. You are pure. You should not have the future that is destined for him.”
“What do I need to do?” I ask, voice shaking.
“You repeat the story we just discussed, and when they ask you about helping the old man into a seat, you say that you did not, that he sat there himself.”
My mouth falls open. “But the old man will be punished for that.”
“Yes, he will. He’s old and very sick. He’ll probably die before Naming Day anyway.”
The old man did not sit down. He did everything in his strength to stay standing. It was me who helped him to the seat.
“I can’t—”
“You can’t what?” Bosco looks at me.