“Clayton Byrne. The Flawed man.”
“But didn’t anyone tell you? He died, Celestine. He died in the hospital last night. I told you that he wouldn’t live to see punishment.”
“Oh.” I exhale shakily. Was it all in vain?
“His family shouldn’t have been in court.” He continues pacing. “I wouldn’t have allowed it. It must have been Sanchez. She’s playing a game, and Jackson is falling for it. She’s been against me for some time, but I see she’s upped it now. This is a whole new level.”
Sweat breaks out on his brow. I have never seen that before, not even on the hottest day as he stood over his barbecue. His hair, which has come undone from its blow-dry, is starting to stick to the beads of sweat on his forehead. He stops pacing and looks at me, desperate, close to my face.
“Would you recant, Celestine?”
“What?”
“We can still swing this. It will be difficult, but Pia can do it. A reality show. She can follow you around, show the country how perfect you are. And the world. You know there are other countries contemplating adopting our system? They have been watching us for a while. I could be president of the Global Guild; I’m going to speak about it in Brussels this month. Celestine, this couldn’t be worse timing.” He looks at me again, wild, desperate, intense. Terrifying. Art is gone from any of this man. I no longer see the face I love in him. “Would you recant?”
“I … I … I can’t.” I can’t go back in there and take back what I said. It would be completely illogical. Who would trust me?
I once took my lead from Bosco. I thought that he knew everything, that he was perfect, but I’m surprised by what I see right now, this panicking, conniving man, desperate to maintain his sliding power. He is clutching at straws that are so delicate they will disintegrate upon his touch, and he is using me in the center of all this. Granddad was right.
“I can’t. I’m sorry,” I say gently. “Could you please let me explain this to Art myself?”
His face hardens, and I brace myself for another shout, but instead he is so quiet I have to strain my ear to hear, which, of course, is worse. It’s almost a hiss.
“If you think I will let my son go anywhere near you ever again, you are delusional. Whether this court had proved you Flawed or not, I had no intention of letting you ever set foot near him again, and particularly not now, now that you are Flawed, Celestine North, Flawed to the very bone.”
And on that he turns and leaves, his red robe flicking up and swishing with him. He slams the door closed.
TWENTY-SIX
A FEW MINUTES later Tina opens the door, with a new female guard. “They’re ready for you now.” Perhaps thinking of her daughter then, she softens her tone. “This is June.”
June speaks up. “Bark is heating up your iron, Flawed, gonna make it nice and hot for your pretty little skin.”
I look at Tina in horror and notice she in turn is looking at June in anger. I stop walking, terrified to go any farther, but they pull me along.
“Come on, keep walking,” Tina whispers.
I feel my legs weaken, I crumple, and Tina pulls me up.
“You’re not being branded yet, Celestine. They have to name your flaws first.”
I allow them to pull me through the maze of corridors. I move limply with them, like a rag doll. We stop at a new door. Perhaps they took me out through it before. I can’t remember, I was so stunned.
Tina looks at me. “Ready?”
“No.”
The door opens and the place explodes.
The first person I see is Carrick, who’s standing in the same place at the back of the room. He stands up straighter when he sees me, turns his body in my direction, and almost follows me with it as I make my way to my seat. I sense his newfound respect for me; there will be no back to my cell wall tonight.
The room is hot and stuffy. I can smell sweat and excitement, my life the entertainment of others. I see one woman offer a bag of candy to the man beside her. They ram the sweets into their mouths as they watch me pass, eyeing me up and down as if I can’t see them.
I take my seat beside Mr. Berry.
“What’s happening?” I ask him, and he shrugs, looking just as confused as I am.
“Ms. Celestine North, please stand,” Crevan says.
I stand, my legs shaky beneath me. My mom clings to my dad. My granddad’s cap is in his hand as he clutches it tightly, his knuckles white.
I stand alone in the courtroom and realize this is how it will be for the rest of my life, standing alone, branded Flawed forever because of one act.
I hear doors burst open, and the three judges look up.
“Don’t do this,” a voice shouts from the door.
It’s Art. I turn around. The disguise is gone.
“Art,” I say to him, afraid, and hear the quiver in my voice.
“Order in the court,” Judge Crevan says, banging his gravel.
“Don’t do this to her!” he yells again.