Perfect

  “I find that the people who’ve had to fight the hardest in their lives are the strongest. What have you ever had to fight for, Mr. Willingham? If you want my business, you’ll have to sell yourself to me.”

  “No,” Crevan says simply. “Mr. Willingham is your appointed lawyer.”

  Sanchez and Jackson look at Crevan because they know that’s not right. I should be able to choose who I want.

  “I think that Ms. North retains the right to choose her counsel,” Judge Jackson says, overruling Crevan.

  While Jackson, Crevan, and a hotheaded Willingham discuss the changes between them, Sanchez is busy texting on her phone. I wonder what she is up to.

  “Mr. Willingham, thank you for your presence today. I’ll make sure the Guild jet is at your disposal,” Crevan says finally.

  Mr. Willingham seems very unhappy and he lets it be known through a series of huffs and pants and stern looks, but that’s as far as he goes: His hands are tied; the powers that be have spoken. He passes Raphael as he leaves, giving him a disgusted once-over.

  Raphael is brought into my cell, sits down, crosses his legs. “Now, where were we?” he says.

  “We’re here to discuss Celestine’s sentencing,” Jackson begins. “This has been a very public disobedience and disrespect of the Guild, of Guild rules, and she must be punished accordingly. Though evading the Guild is nothing new, and there are sanctions in place for that, her case is unprecedented. We thought it best to gather and discuss it out of court.”

  Crevan and Sanchez sit quietly. They both have other plans.

  “Indeed, Judge Jackson, we appreciate your settling it in this way,” Raphael takes over. “It’s best for everybody involved. So let’s begin, the Guild is a morality court. What immoral acts has Celestine carried out recently? Making a speech at a gathering that you arranged? A very inspiring one by the way, Celestine. No, I believe the Guild has not yet removed freedom of speech. All Celestine has done to the Guild is evade her Whistleblower and missed her curfews, and if she is to be punished for that, we look to precedent. In the case of Angelina Tinder missing a curfew, you removed her children from her care for one week; in the case of Victoria Shannon, you arranged to have her work without pay for one week. For Daniel Schmidt it was one month; for Michael Auburn it was six months, until he missed his mortgage payments and his home was almost taken from him, until common sense prevailed in the form of the high court.”

  He rattles all these cases off the top of his head.

  “But Celestine doesn’t have a job, she doesn’t have children, and she certainly doesn’t have a home. If you punish her family, then I will take you to court for human rights violations. Families of Flawed cannot be punished for Flawed acts.

  “But let’s not forget the Guild incorrectly incarcerated her sister, Juniper, who did nothing wrong, and her grandfather, who you have yet to prove has done anything wrong.”

  “He aided an evader,” Crevan says.

  “But where is your proof? If you had any, then you would have charged him by now. These acts against Celestine’s sister and grandfather were carried out in order to bring Celestine out of the woodwork. The Guild has done nothing but antagonize my client and fill her with fear so as to prevent her from finding her way back. Instead of discussing punishments, I say Celestine North deserves an act of mercy.”

  “Mr. Angelo, the court of the Guild doesn’t sit to administer clemency,” Judge Jackson politely says, denying the request.

  “I agree. Nor does it sit to introduce a role for justice after a wrongful conviction. But the government can,” Raphael explains. “A government without decency, a government without mercy, is a pretty harsh overlord. I intend to appeal to Prime Minister Percy on this issue.”

  “A wrongful conviction?” Judge Jackson frowns. “We’re here to discuss Celestine’s evasion. And with all due respect, Mr. Angelo, the election is tomorrow. You will be taking a risk—who knows who will be in government?”

  “Indeed, it could very well be Prime Minister Sleepwell, and I’m sure she’ll take a more favorable view.”

  “I hardly think that will be the situation,” Crevan snorts.

  Judge Jackson looks less sure and annoyed that Crevan keeps talking despite being told to take a backseat.

  A guard interrupts our meeting. “Judge Jackson, there is an important phone call for you, in your office.”

  “Can’t it wait?” Jackson asks, confused. “This is important.”

  “It’s urgent, sir.”

  I look at Sanchez, who seems coy, and I realize whatever she was texting on her phone made sure that Jackson would have to leave the room. This disappoints me, as I think Raphael was getting through to Judge Jackson, or that at least he could be more fair.

  When Jackson leaves, Raphael continues. “How do you wish to further punish my client? After all, you branded her already in the five areas.”

  “Well, we can always find more areas,” Crevan says to me jokingly, with a twinkle in his eye.

  He actually thinks that nobody knows. Sanchez regards him differently then. I can tell his arrogance has angered her.

  “A spine, perhaps,” Raphael says.

  My heart drums manically. We’re finally there. Raphael is going for it now.

  Sanchez senses it, too, and sits up rigidly.

  Crevan looks at Raphael coldly.

  There’s a long silence.

  “Let’s all be honest with one another now,” Raphael says. “There is footage, Judge Crevan, that reveals you branding this young lady’s spine yourself, without anesthetic.”

  Crevan’s eye twitches. “This footage allegedly exists but it is rather elusive, as nobody can seem to find it. Personally I think it’s an idle threat, one that doesn’t exist.”

  “It exists,” I say.

  “I can assure you, Judge Sanchez, there is no such footage, and even if there is, I’m sure it’s a cheap re-creation, along with everything else we can view on the Internet,” he says to Sanchez.

  He’s trying to reel her in. She remains silent, keeping her cards close to her chest. I can’t be certain whose side she’s going to eventually take.

  “I know that Celestine was in your home this morning,” Crevan says, suspicious.

  “Indeed, I called you personally to tell you, but the Whistleblowers got to her first.”

  “I called the Whistleblowers on myself,” I interrupt their cat-and-mouse game, which is starting to bug me. No games. Just honesty. “Judge Sanchez wanted to hand me over to you herself. She wanted to give me to you for something in return. Do a little deal.”

  She looks at me, surprised, but must continue now that I’ve begun.

  “You’ve made too many mistakes, Bosco,” Sanchez says. “There is a private inquiry into your actions; it has asked me to comply. I’m going to have to answer honestly.”

  “What do you want from me?” Crevan asks her, and it’s as if Raphael and I suddenly aren’t in the room.

  “I want you gone. I want to be head judge of the Guild.”

  Crevan laughs nervously. “You want me to step down?”

  “I want control. Full control.”

  He stiffens, stands up. “You want to take my job in return for what? Her?” He points his finger at me. “I already have her.”

  I’m insulted that he can’t even say my name. As is Raphael, who regards this all with disgust.

  “I have the footage,” Sanchez says, and I see the color drain from Crevan’s face. “I saw you hold that iron in your hand and brand that seventeen-year-old girl. It was deplorable. Disgusting. This is not what the Guild was founded for.”

  He is momentarily shaken by this. “As I said, the footage was faked.”

  “I think people would be extremely doubtful about that.”

  He swallows.

  “It puts the entire Guild in disrepute, Bosco, and I will make it public if I have to because they are your actions. Your remaining as head judge will bring about the end of the Gu
ild. It’s already happening. I can begin a new relationship with the new government. It will be like starting fresh, continuing on with what we set out to do.”

  Crevan isn’t happy about this. The Guild is his baby; perhaps Erica Edelman is right about Crevan treating the country as if it were his child. When his wife died he fell to pieces; he started blaming everybody else for her loss, starting off by branding the doctor who missed the cancer, who misdiagnosed her. Then he got a taste for revenge, and that’s when he came apart at the seams, becoming this monster.

  “You can’t do this.” Crevan leans toward Sanchez threateningly. “The Guild was founded by my family. It has always been led by a Crevan.”

  “I can do this and I will,” Sanchez says, standing.

  Raphael and I look at each other. This isn’t looking good for me. They’re working out a deal and I’m not gaining anything.

  “It is the right and best thing to do,” she says. “You leave on your terms, at the start of a new government, a new era, a new beginning for the Guild. You go quietly, no questions asked, no video released.”

  “What about me?” I ask, breaking their long stare.

  “I will grant you your freedom,” she says. “Mr. Angelo is correct. The Guild is not above an act of decency and mercy.”

  “You will overrule me?” Crevan raises his voice.

  “It’s the only way.”

  “It is not,” he yells. Carrick and Granddad are glued to their glass walls, trying to understand what is going on, just as much as Raphael and I, who are in the room.

  Crevan marches to the door of my cell, tries to open it.

  “It’s locked,” I say.

  “For God’s sake, open this door,” he yells at the top of his voice.

  “They can’t hear you from here,” I say calmly. “Soundproofed.”

  He turns to us, face red and trembling, his insides bubbling with rage, ready to explode. The guard comes just in time to unlock the cell and he catapults himself out of here as fast as he can, almost knocking over the guard.

  SIXTY-FOUR

  SANCHEZ EXHALES, a long shaky breath.

  “So you’re granting me my freedom. I’ll no longer be Flawed.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll let my granddad go, too?” I ask Sanchez.

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll let Mr. Angelo go?”

  “Yes.”

  “My parents had to pay my legal costs.”

  “That will be refunded by the Guild.”

  “Marlena Ponta, she was my character witness at my trial. You will say that she didn’t mislead the Guild. Publicly.”

  “Yes.”

  “Celestine’s brands,” Raphael says. “The Guild will cover the costs of their removal.”

  Sanchez is thoughtful. “Yes.”

  “This verdict overturn will be public knowledge?” Raphael asks.

  “It will.”

  My heart pounds. This is everything I wanted. I want the world to know that Crevan made a mistake so that it will help shine a light on all his Flawed cases. If Crevan is Flawed, then so is the entire Guild. Then perhaps it will bring an end to the Flawed regime. I can’t believe this is everything that I wanted. Though not quite everything.

  Sanchez gathers her papers and, as if reading my mind, asks, “That’s everything?”

  I look over at Carrick. “And Carrick Vane. His verdict must be overturned, too.”

  She looks at me then, and I think I see a smile at the corner of her lips.

  “No,” she says.

  SIXTY-FIVE

  “BUT YOU HAVE to grant Carrick his freedom, too.” I raise my voice.

  “Carrick Vane isn’t part of your case,” Sanchez says. “He has nothing to do with this discussion.”

  “But he is being punished for being on the run with me.”

  “He is being punished for evading his Whistleblower. There will be no punishment for his colluding with you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “But you have to let him go free,” I say, voice shaky now.

  “No,” she says again firmly. She looks at Raphael. “Are we finished here? I’ll draw up the paperwork.”

  “I need time to consult with my counsel,” I say, to their absolute surprise. “I need time to think.”

  Raphael closes his eyes, with dread.

  “How much time?” Sanchez asks.

  I look at the clock. “I don’t know. Tomorrow?”

  “You have until the end of the day.”

  “But they’ve agreed to everything, Celestine,” Raphael says. “You have your life back. Take the deal.”

  “Listen to your counsel, Celestine,” Sanchez says, gathering her papers. “My offer comes off the table at six PM today.” She walks to the door and the guard opens it for her immediately.

  “What’s going on?” Raphael asks as soon as she’s gone. “You should take the deal. This is exactly what you wanted. Your case publicly being overturned will raise questions about the entire Flawed system, which in turn will help everyone.”

  “And, realistically, how long will that take? I want Carrick to be free now.”

  “When you began this, you wanted to find Crevan Flawed. This is a step in that direction. Celestine, you have to stick to the plan. Don’t be foolish. You can do a great deal more good for Carrick and for all of the Flawed after you’ve regained your freedom. Don’t let Carrick sway your decision.”

  My heart pounds at the enormity of the choice facing me.

  I glance up at the clock, watching the minutes pass.

  “Look, you’re young, I understand,” continues Raphael. “When I was eighteen I was crazy about this girl, Marie. Christ, if you’d asked me to jump off a cliff for Marie, I would have. Celestine, don’t give up your freedom at eighteen for somebody else. You have so much to learn. You have to think of yourself now. Take the deal.”

  I finally look at Carrick, who is so close to the glass he looks like he wants to punch through it if I don’t tell him what’s going on.

  I sigh and pick up a pen and paper that Judge Sanchez mistakenly left behind, though nothing she does ever hints at being a mistake. I lift the page and show it to him.

  They agreed to everything, except you.

  He stares at it for a moment, allowing it to settle, and then he nods, in a so what way. He folds his arms and studies me intently, asking me, telling me, to let him know that I took the deal. I squirm under his gaze.

  I shake my head.

  He throws his hands up angrily, and though I can’t hear him, I see him shouting at me. He wants me to be free. He wants me to take the deal.

  I write again and push the paper flat against the glass.

  I will never feel free if you’re not.

  This seems to break him. I know it touches him, but it breaks him more because he snaps. I know he’s shouting my name but I can’t hear a word from my soundproofed box. I shake my head and look away; I don’t want to see any more protests. He can’t argue with me when my back is turned, which I know will drive him demented, but I can’t argue with him here, not like this. I’ve made my decision, and yet what Raphael has said stays with me. Am I being foolish?

  “Sometimes you must be selfish for the greater good,” Raphael says, shaking his head.

  “Whatever decision I make, Raphael, you and Granddad will be okay. I wouldn’t do that to both of you.”

  “I appreciate that,” he says, almost sadly, for me.

  But he doesn’t realize, I am being selfish. I have grown to love my Flawed world. I love the friends I have made. I love Carrick. I know who I am. I feel like one of them. For that to be taken away would be to go through it all again, being ripped away from a world and people I know. I feel at home being Flawed, maybe more comfortable than ever; I feel at peace in my scarred skin. I don’t want my brands removed. I don’t want to go back to who I was, to the life that I had. I would never feel at home being perfect. It doesn’t exist; it’s all fake.

/>   But I don’t tell him any of this.

  I look up at the clock.

  Watching the time.

  Waiting.

  “Why do you keep looking at the clock?” Raphael asks, suddenly suspicious.

  “No reason,” I say.

  He narrows his eyes. “Celestine, you’re up to something, aren’t you?” he says, watching me. “That’s why you’re not taking the deal.”

  “I’m not up to anything.”

  It’s not a lie. I’m not up to anything now. I’ve already done it. Something is about to happen. Something I put into motion before I was even captured.

  SIXTY-SIX

  I GLANCE AT the guard, who’s still in the room.

  “I’m not up to anything,” I repeat.

  Granddad watches me, eyes narrowed, as though he’s trying to figure me out. He knows me well; he, too, suspects something. Or perhaps he already knows. Carrick is now beyond angry with me. He picks up a chair and throws it against the far pane of glass. It just bounces back at him. I see his red face, the veins pulsating in his neck, the anger high.

  “Uh-oh,” Raphael says.

  The guard in my cell jumps to attention.

  “Leave him. He’ll calm down,” Raphael says.

  “Back in your cell,” she says to Raphael, opening the door.

  “I’m not finished with my client,” he protests.

  But he doesn’t get to say much more because he’s strong-armed back into his cell by two guards who come racing in to settle the Carrick situation. I need Carrick to calm down—he can’t lose it now. Carrick has his back to me, deliberately so, a sign of his anger. His back is heaving up and down as he tries to gather himself. I write quickly and slam the page against the window adjoining our cells.

  He’s going to ruin this if he doesn’t realize what is about to happen.

  Turn around, Carrick, turn around.

  I bang on the glass but of course he can’t hear me.

  The guards open his door and I pray he doesn’t attack them. He finally looks at me, but I’ve lowered the page. I can’t risk the guards reading what I’ve written. I rip it up into a million pieces and throw it in the trash. The guards go to either side of him. They hold their hands out in front, like they’re taming a wild horse. Carrick ignores them, turns around to look at me, eyes red like he’s been crying. He thinks he’s ruining my life, but he has no idea how much he has saved me. If he had just read my note, he’d understand everything.