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She grins. “Nope. Mostly, they want sex.”
I have to laugh.
“I’ve been here one year. To answer your question.”
“You’ve been Flawed for one year?”
“Two years.” She looks away, reaches to a glossy cabinet on the wall with no handle, pushes it to pop it open. She takes bedsheets from the shelves and drops them on to my new bed. Then she stamps on my bed with her big leather boots again and jumps to the floor, where she busies herself with the sheets. I try to help her, but she waves me off, talking as she goes. I can sense it’s easier for her to be busy while telling me her story.
“My family threw me out of the house when I was branded Flawed. Dad said, ‘You’re no daughter of mine’.” She puts on a deep voice and pretends to make fun of the situation, but it’s no laughing matter. “He had my bags packed when I got home from school one day. He walked me out to the taxi while Mum watched from the window. He gave me enough cash for a week and that was it.” Her eyes are distant. “I lived on the street for one year as a fully fledged Flawed. Then I started to hear about these evaders, these magical people who were able to live without having to report to Whistleblowers, without the Guild breathing down their backs. I always thought it was a myth, that evaders were like fairies, but they turned out to be true. I came here finally. Best thing that ever happened to me.”
My eyes widen and I realise how lucky I am to have a family that supported me all the way through. And what my poor granddad is going through now to protect me.
“What did you do?” I ask.
“I spent a year doing this and that, following the rules, doing what I was told by my Whistleblower, but then I got tired of that – it wasn’t for me. I couldn’t get a job; I couldn’t get work, so I couldn’t pay rent. Moved around some homeless shelters. I can tell you it’s bad being Flawed with a roof over your head; you can imagine what it’s like without one.” Her eyes glisten. “So I made a decision and came here,” she replies, eyes back to me.
“What did you do to become Flawed?”
Her tears disappear immediately, her eyes darken, and I learn the first rule of being Flawed. Never ask a Flawed person how they became Flawed.
(#ulink_65bd4d02-0aa2-5336-b646-d230bf3871c2)
I wake up in the cabin to a nightmare, as usual. They haunt me. I’m always on the run from Crevan. Sprinting, leaping over walls, but I’m never fast enough – it’s like I’m on a treadmill, running and running but not getting anywhere. It’s exhausting and it continues all night, like it’s on a loop. The only difference between this nightmare and every other night is a new addition: my granddad being tortured in the Branding Chamber.
Sweating and panting in the early hours of the morning, I sit bolt upright. I need to speak to Dahy. Even more urgently, I need to call home; I need to know what’s going on.
Morning light streams in through the window of the cabin, and when I look up I see that Mona has left her bed. Probably gone to work. I check my watch and can’t believe that it’s midday.
There’s a knock on the door.
I wrap myself in the bedsheet, lifting it to cover the brand over my heart, and open the door.
“Hi,” Carrick says, swiftly looking me up and down, and his eyes on me send goose bumps rising on my skin. “Brought you this.” He hands me a steaming mug of coffee and a chocolate muffin. “I’m on a break from my shift.”
“I can’t believe I’ve slept this long.”
“You needed it.” He looks at me intensely. “You’ve had a tough time.”
I cup my hand round the mug and feel the warmth. “Thank you.”
“The others wanted me to tell you to come to the rec room when you’re ready. Most of them are on a lunch break; they want to show you something. Don’t look so worried.” He offers a rare smile.
“Okay, I’ll be there soon. Carrick … you found your parents!” I grin at him, in celebration.
“I know,” he says awkwardly, face scrunched up in thought. “It’s weird. It’s new. It’s been only a few weeks. I barely know them. But they know me – my mum, more so; it’s like she knows everything about me and I know nothing about her.”
“It’s bound to be weird. I was only in the castle for a few days, and when I went back home it felt different.”
It was odd with my sister, Juniper, the entire time; we didn’t get along at all and made up moments before I escaped from the house. She admitted to feeling guilty for not standing beside me on the bus, for not speaking out in court. Bizarrely she felt jealous because, despite my punishment, she felt I’d done the right thing and she hadn’t. I also discovered she was Art’s accomplice in helping him to hide, when I desperately wanted to see him more than anything in the world. So much of what happened between us during those weeks was all due to lack of communication.
“I think when things happen to you, it can … alienate you from people,” I say quietly. I think of my experience of going back to school and having no friends, being excluded from classes by teachers, being captured and locked in a shed by school kids, the end of my relationship with Art. Everything shifted; everything changed, nothing for the better.
He looks at me intensely. “But what happened to us didn’t alienate us from each other, did it?” he asks.
I don’t even need to think about it. “No.”
“It brought us together,” he says.
“Yes.” I smile shyly.
He nods. “See you in the rec room. Make sure you come the route Mona showed you; we don’t want anyone else seeing you here.”
I close the door, my body brimming with energy just from standing next to him, though a little shot down by his parting comment. I use the shower in the cabin and dress quickly, knowing everybody is waiting for me. As I open the door, I come face to face with a knuckle, which at first I think is aiming to punch me and so I squeal and duck.
When nothing happens and the feet haven’t kicked me or run away and are just shuffling in my eyeline, I uncover my head from my hands and slowly look up.
A young man stands there, his fist still in the air, and he’s looking at me, startled. “I was just about to knock on the door.”
“Oh! Oh. Right.” I clamber to my feet, feeling mortified.
“Sorry for scaring you,” he says, embarrassed, as his cheeks start to go the brightest red I’ve ever seen on a human being. “I’m Leonard,” he says, eyes on the floor, on the wall, on the door, flitting everywhere but not on me. “I work here.” He fumbles with the pass round his neck and offers it through the gap in the door. Leonard Ambrosio, Lab Technician. He looks like a choirboy.
“Hi, Leonard,” I say, widening the gap a bit.
I’m afraid he recognises me, but because he’s in this unit, does that mean he’s Flawed too? Can I trust him? Do his eyes narrow a little as he processes me? My name and face is all over the media. Is it the end for me?
“I’m sorry to disturb you; I know you’re new here. My girlfriend used to sleep in this room.” He looks around as though he’s more nervous to be here than me. “Her name is Lizzie.”
I tense up. This is the boyfriend who doesn’t like Flawed.
He looks at me expectantly.
“I just arrived, I don’t know anything about her,” I say defensively, thinking just because she’s Flawed, doesn’t mean that I am.
“No? Okay. Here’s a photo of her.” He studies my face as I take it, hoping a memory has stirred. “And here’s my number.” He hands me a piece of paper with his name and number. “If you hear anything about her, or if anyone else mentions her or where she might have gone, please call me. I really want to find her.”
“For what?” I say, my voice cold.
He seems taken aback by my tone. “What do you mean?”
“Why do you want to find her?” I’m not going to offer up her whereabouts just so he can call the Whistleblowers on her.
“Because I love her,” he says, eyes pleading. “I’m so worried about her.” He looks up and down the corridor before lowering his voice even more. “I know who she is … what she is … you know?” He looks at me intently. “I think she was afraid to tell me, but I wouldn’t have cared, I always knew and never cared. I mean, of course I cared, but it didn’t stop me from loving her – if anything, it made me love her more.” His cheeks pink at that again, as he becomes embarrassed. “I think it’s important that you know that I don’t have a problem with Flawed people …” His eyes dart around the place again. “But mostly I just need Lizzie to know that. Okay?”
“Okay.” I frown, thinking this is the complete opposite to what I’ve heard, but I don’t want to get lost in somebody else’s drama. And in the back of my mind I’m wondering, Is this a set-up? Use me to get her and she gets in trouble? “But I told you, I don’t know her.”
A door bangs shut round the corner. We both look nervously down the hall.
“Don’t, um, please don’t tell Mona, or anyone, that I was here. I shouldn’t be in this section. Lizzie gave me a key card so we could meet. This is just, um, between me and you,” he says.
He looks so earnest, so concerned, so nervous, that I almost believe him. I understand his words to mean: I tell nobody about him, he tells nobody about me. I close the door quickly, unsure whether I should tell Mona. His story clashes with hers, but I’ve just arrived – I really don’t want to be getting involved in a war of words with anyone, especially when it’s none of my business.
Finally, I shrug and make my way to the recreational room, deciding not to give it any more thought.
My first mistake.
(#ulink_1163ce39-91e7-5b64-a8a4-addd10336a9d)
“You took your time!” Mona says loudly when I enter the rec room. “Our lunch break is almost over.”
“Sorry,” I say. “It’s just been a while since I showered without having to worry about a Whistleblower walking in on me.”
They laugh and welcome me into the room. There are more Flawed here who I didn’t meet last night, and they greet me. Evelyn wants to show me her cartwheels, which she does all around the room while her mother, Cordelia, tries to stop her.
“I’m sorry.” Cordelia sits beside me. “Evelyn’s been here since she was two years old. She’s always excited by new people. It’s a rare thing.”
“It’s okay. She’s sweet.” I smile, feeling sad for the little girl.
“Welcome.” Bahee takes my hands; his are warm. “I hope you slept well.”
“Much better.” I smile. Despite the nightmares, it was an improvement on sleeping in the farmhouse where the fear and anxiety kept me awake most of the night. I feel guilty for sleeping when Granddad is being held in the castle because of me.
“Good. I’m sure you needed it after your recent journey. We’ve all been in your shoes, remember; we all understand how difficult the adjustment is. It takes time, but we’ll help you. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want,” he says, smiling warmly.
“Thank you,” I say.
Bahee claps his hands suddenly. “Okay, my friends. Thank you for gathering on your break, and to those of you who took unofficial breaks: Eddie will kill you, but don’t blame me.” He throws a warning look at Mona, who laughs in her cleaner’s uniform. “Let’s show Celestine North what we do here.”
The couches are moved to form a circle. I sit beside Mona. Carrick hangs back, standing outside the circle, arms folded, leaning against the wall, serious expression, always on alert.
Kelly sits beside me. “You and I need to have a chat,” she says excitedly with a wink. She holds my hand and squeezes it. I can understand Carrick’s discomfort with his mother wanting so much so soon. She is so eager to be back in his life she’s grabbing at everything that’s connected to him. Adam sits beside her and taps her thigh with a hand, a gesture that I read as an instruction to calm herself. She apologises to me and lets go of my hand.
Rogan stays in the same dark corner I met him in last night, on a bean bag, near the computer games. He comes closer to the edge, to see what’s happening, and he ends up glaring at Carrick for most of the time, studying his every move.
“Many people have come and gone from our tribe; all of them have been welcomed in with open arms and love,” Bahee begins. “Before I became Flawed, in my previous life as a scientist I went on many travels, had laboratories and factories all around the world, which took me far and wide,” he says, and it feels as though he’s talking directly at me, that this is all for me. “It’s what I miss most: stepping off a plane, breathing in and smelling the air of a new country, or feeling the heat of the hot African sun hit me.” He seems frozen in a memory momentarily and everyone waits patiently, possibly remembering those moments of freedom, before, when we took them for granted. “But I consider myself lucky to be able to share news of my travels with those who haven’t.” He directs this at Evelyn.
“On my travels I came across the Babemba tribe of Africa, who could teach this nation a thing or two. The tribe believes that each human being comes into the world as good, that each person only desires safety, love, peace and happiness. But sometimes in the pursuit of these things, people make mistakes. When a person makes a mistake, he or she is placed alone in the centre of the village. All work stops and everyone gathers around to take part in a beautiful ceremony where each person of the village shares all the good things that the individual ever did in his or her lifetime. Every positive story, their good deeds and strengths are recounted. At the end, a celebration takes place and the person is symbolically and literally welcomed back into the tribe.”
“That’s beautiful,” I say dreamily. If only.
“These are my favourite days,” Mona says.
“So, Lennox, as a new arrival to our home. Stand up,” Bahee says, and Lorcan, Fergus and Carrick cheer him on. Lennox grins and sits in a chair in the centre of the room, acting as though he’s a rock star taking to the stage, waving as though there are thousands of us in his audience.
Evelyn jumps up and down with excitement, wanting to start it off.
“When Lennox first came here he was so nice to me. He used to carry me around on his back and pretend that he was the daddy monkey and I was the baby.” Lennox becomes embarrassed. “And he was the first person I ever heard burp the alphabet.”
Everyone laughs.
Evelyn continues. “Lennox is always happy and makes jokes and I love that about him because he makes everybody else happy. But then Lennox was sad one day. I found him crying in his room and asked him what was wrong. He was looking at photographs of him and his wife surfing. He said that he missed the sea. I told him that at least he’d seen the sea. I’ve never ever seen the sea. I’ve been here most of my life. The next time Lennox went out when he wasn’t supposed to, he came back with a shell for me. He told me to put it to my ear and whenever I wanted to hear the sound of the sea then all I had to do was listen. And always, when I feel a bit sad, I put the shell to my ear and I close my eyes and even though I’m just in my cabin with Mum, I imagine I’m on the beach, my toes in the sand, and the waves are crashing and I’m in my swimsuit and I’ve made dozens of castles and Lennox is surfing with his wife. So thank you, Lennox, for giving me the sea.”
Cordelia wipes her eyes, tears for her little girl, who has missed so many experiences while living here in the facility.
Kelly starts clapping and everybody else joins in.
Lennox clears his throat. “Man, this is going to be hard.”
And it is, but it is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever witnessed – a room of people heaping praise on somebody and through their stories I receive a huge insight into Lennox’s character. Sure he’s a wisecracking smart-arse, but he has a kind soul. It also teaches me more. Lennox is married, or was, so where is his wife? What happened? What did he do to become Flawed? I know now after Mona’s reaction last night not to ask that question so easily. Yet I can’t help but wonder what everybody did in here to become Flawed, especially Carrick’s parents.
Eventually everyone but Carrick and I have spoken about Lennox.
“That’s it,” Bahee says. “Celestine, you are new here – we don’t expect you to say anything about Lennox; you have yet to discover his charming ways.” Everyone laughs.
“Carrick never speaks,” Mona whispers to me, as though Carrick has been there for longer than his two weeks.
“Uh, wait,” Carrick speaks up, and everyone falls silent in surprise. He unfolds his arms and steps away from the wall, a rare glimpse of awkwardness from him as he fidgets and cracks his fingers.
“Nice,” Mona mutters.
He glares at her and shoves his hands into his pockets instead.
“Right, Lennox,” he says awkwardly, his voice deep and serious. “We met around two weeks ago and I didn’t know much about you. Still really don’t.”
“Well, this is moving,” Lennox says to chuckles.
“But I needed your help with something. And you were there. I got a call from Dahy, and we had to move fast. Because these two idiots’ faces are posted everywhere in the city –” he refers to Fergus and Lorcan – “I needed you. You rose to the occasion. You were there. You didn’t ask many questions. You helped me find someone –” he looks at me and my heart pounds and my stomach flutters – “who is incredibly important to …”
Thud, thud, thud.
“… the Flawed cause.”
Mona tuts.
“And I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that.”
While I melt under Carrick’s intense gaze, Lennox interrupts: “Cash will do just fine,” and everyone laughs.
“Let’s not get into a discussion about any ‘causes’,” Bahee interjects nervously. “The only cause we should be discussing is the cause for celebration yesterday that we only learned about today.”
Suddenly the lights dim and there’s an outbreak of ‘Happy Birthday’ and Kelly, who was beside me and disappeared without my noticing, is exiting the kitchen holding an enormous cake with eighteen candles in it. Evelyn skips alongside, excitedly singing and licking her lips. When the cake reaches me, Evelyn sits on my knee and helps me to blow out the candles.
I said I would never wish again, but twenty-four hours later, I do.
“Thank you so much, everybody,” I beam.
They give me a very generous portion, one that is far beyond what a Flawed is allowed to take in, with our rules on weekly luxury intakes.
