“Dr. Smith says your taste buds will come back.”
“I can taste blood, so I must be okay.” Bad joke. And I’m not sure I can taste blood. My tongue is blistered and scabbed, and I just imagine it flowing down my throat whenever I swallow.
Mom winces.
“Maybe it’s better if I never taste again anyway, given the food I have to eat every day of the week for the rest of my life.”
“It’s a healthy diet,” Mom says perkily. “Probably one we should all be eating. And we would, but we’re not allowed to join you, sorry.”
“Are you going to defend everything they do?”
“I’m just trying to look on the bright side, Celestine.”
“There is no fucking bright side.”
“Language,” she says, propping me up with pillows again, but she doesn’t sound like she cares what I say.
“Are Flawed not allowed to swear, either?”
“I think more than anything, Flawed are entitled to swear,” she says.
We smile.
“There she is,” she whispers, tracing a line around my face with her finger. “My brave baby.”
I look at her properly. “How are you, Mom? You look tired,” I say tenderly.
“I’m fine.” Her resolve weakens. “I’ve booked myself in for an eye lift,” she says, and we both laugh. It’s the first time she’s ever admitted doing any work to her appearance.
“Where’s Juniper?”
“She’s out at the moment.” She stiffens.
“She’s being funny with me.”
“She’s afraid, darling. She thinks you’re angry with her.”
I think of the sad way she looks at me when she sees me, the gentle tone in her voice when she asks me what she can do for me, and it makes me bark back at her. I’d rather we return to the banter that we used to have. I’m more comfortable with her being irritated by me, but instead now I see her pity. I think of the fact that she didn’t come to my aid on the bus and how she didn’t testify in court. Mom is right; I feel nothing but anger at her. I know I’m wrong, but somehow it is burning inside me.
“Are you angry with Art?” Mom asks. I know the point she is making: How can I be angry with my own sister and not Art? But somewhere deep down, I keep wondering why he didn’t try harder to make it stop. Why couldn’t he convince his dad? But I understand. I once trusted Judge Crevan, and he wouldn’t have expected his own dad to land me in so much trouble.
“Do you think he’ll come to visit?”
She purses her lips and pauses, and I know it’s a no. “I’m sure he just needs to think about a few things. Away from his father,” she says, and I see the anger in her eyes. “But, Celestine”—she thinks about how to say it—“don’t expect him to—”
“I don’t,” I interrupt. “I already know.”
The realistic view would be to believe that Art will never come back to me. I know that. But it doesn’t stop me from hoping. And it doesn’t stop me from dreaming of the way things used to be.
“I know you don’t want to talk about this, but we’re thinking of contacting Mr. Berry to discuss the extra brand.”
“No,” I interrupt before she takes it any further.
“Listen, Celestine, it wasn’t part of the original ruling. What happened is unheard of. We want to talk to him to see what your options are—”
“And what might they be?” I say angrily. “Are they going to make it disappear? Is Crevan going to say sorry? No. Just because it’s unheard of doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. It’s Crevan. He does what he likes, and he can do whatever he likes to me again. Promise me you’ll leave it alone.”
She purses her lips and nods. “I understand, Celestine. Your dad wants to protect you. He wants to defend you. Fight for your name.” She smiles softly, loving this part of him. “But I agree with you. I think we should stay silent about it. If we talk to Mr. Berry about it, then I’m afraid we’ll bring more attention to it. I’m not sure if he’s aware of it or not, but your file still says five brands. They haven’t contacted us to update it, and it hasn’t been in any of the media reports. They’ve only mentioned the five. Nobody in the media knows or is talking about a sixth brand.”
Yet. The silent word hangs in the air. This news does offer me some relief. I am still the most branded Flawed person in the world, just not yet known to be the most ridiculously branded. I never thought getting away with five would be a bonus.
Mr. Berry knows about my sixth brand already. He saw it happen. I think about telling her, but I don’t. I don’t want to talk about what happened in the chamber. I want to forget. But I can’t. Carrick knows, too.
I see his hand pushed up against the glass, and I hear his voice from the corridor. “I’ll find you.”
I don’t know if I want him to find me like this.
And on that thought, I close my eyes and drift away.
DAY SIX