“I’m not swimming, sir.”
“Why not?” He comes toward me, his many whistles rattling around his chest reminding me of the Whistleblowers. I hear the others snicker.
I keep my voice down. “My scars, sir, I can’t get them in the water,” I lie.
He suddenly realizes who I am, what I am, and takes a step back from me.
“She needs a doctor’s note, sir,” one girl, Natasha, calls. “If she doesn’t have one, she has to get in.” She flashes an innocent smile at the boy beside her, Logan. I recognize him, too, from my chemistry class, though we’ve never spoken.
“Have you a doctor’s note?”
“No, sir.”
“Then if you don’t have one, get in.”
“I didn’t know I had a gym class today. I was supposed to be in biology.”
“And why aren’t you in biology?”
“Because Ms. Barnes doesn’t want me in her class.”
“Well, I don’t want you in mine, either, if you don’t get into the water.”
“I can’t get in, sir.”
“Do you shower?”
“Yes.”
“Then you can get in. Get in.”
I land myself in Principal Hamilton’s office mere hours after I told him I wouldn’t cause him any trouble. Dr. Smith e-mails the necessary note to the school, explaining how it is best for my scars to stay out of the chlorine, but it’s too late, the damage has already been done.
I feel sick with nerves as I enter the cafeteria at lunchtime and chatter dies down as all heads turn to stare at me and judge me. Colleen, Angelina Tinder’s daughter, is sitting alone, and I build up the courage to make my way to her. I stand at her table, and she doesn’t look up. I know that feeling. The feeling that whoever is there is about to say or do something heartbreaking, so best not to look while they do it.
“Hi,” I say.
She looks up at me in surprise.
“How’s your mom?” I ask.
She narrows her eyes, then laughs. “Wow.”
“What?”
“Are you really this desperate? Where were you two weeks ago? Why didn’t you ask me then? Of course, you were too selfish to even say hi to me then.” The shy Colleen is gone, and in her place is this angry, spiteful young woman. I don’t recognize her, not from the girl I spent Earth Day with each year, and family get-togethers, when both of us were carefree and a life like this wasn’t even a thought in our heads. Of course she’s right about me. I didn’t greet her that morning after her mom was taken away. I was too afraid. And then I went on to make the biggest mistake of my life. I deserve what I got, in her opinion.
A few people come to the table and sit beside Colleen. Logan, the guy from swim class who has a rare friendly face; Natasha; and a guy named Gavin.
“Is she bothering you, Colleen?” Natasha says.
Colleen seems surprised at first, then looks at me smugly. I move away immediately, not wanting a scene, as the neighboring tables have gone silent to watch.
“Maybe there should be a special Flawed table in the cafeteria,” Natasha says, with her dark, sly eyes.
I keep my head down as I leave the cafeteria. My eyes are hot, and, just as I felt in the Branding Chamber, I don’t want anyone here to see me cry.
THIRTY-TWO
WHEN I ARRIVE home after that horrendous day of school, Mom greets me dressed head to toe in perfection: glowing, healthy blond hair down in loose waves, with a pleasant smile on her face. I smell cookies or something baking. She is like a 1950s housewife, and I immediately know something is wrong. She doesn’t ask me about my day at all, which I’m glad of because I feel like I’d just burst into tears.
“Pia Wang is here to see you,” she says.
Juniper looks at us in surprise, then realizes we want to speak in private. Feeling left out, she trudges upstairs to her room and bangs the door. My being Flawed, in a bizarre way, has brought me and Mom and Dad closer, given us more reason to talk privately, which I know is making her feel like she’s being pushed out.
“She’s here? In this house?” I whisper, looking around for Pia Wang.
Mom nods quickly, takes me aside, and whispers, “She’s in the library.”
“Did she just arrive uninvited?”
“Yes. Well, no. She’s been ringing every day for an interview, and I’ve been putting her off, telling her you were … healing, but now that you’re back at school, I can’t put her off anymore.”
“I don’t want to talk to her,” I hiss.
“By order of the Guild,” Mom says quietly. “Apparently, it’s part of the package. Every Flawed must be available to speak with Pia after the trial. And if I didn’t let her in…”
“You’d be seen as aiding a Flawed.”
“You’re my daughter,” she says, her eyes filling.
“Mom, it’s okay. I’ll do it.”
“What are you going to say?” she asks nervously. “Perhaps we should call Mr. Berry.”