Flawed (Flawed, #1)(27)
Dad takes me aside.
“No matter what happens today, sweetheart, you know I’m proud of you. No matter what, I will love you,” he says with urgency.
“Thanks, Dad.”
He looks around, seems strained, unsure of whether to say something or not.
“Dad, tell me,” I say, voice low.
“I haven’t said much during all this. Your mom said it was better I don’t, but I think I need to. It’s just that … I don’t want you to think that because of what I do, it means that you can’t … that you can’t use your own voice. You understand?” He looks at me intensely. He looks exhausted, like he hasn’t slept in days. His eyes are bloodshot. “Bob took a stand at work, he wanted to use his own voice and … well, he was punished for that. Angelina was punished because of him. It was a warning to us all. I will defend you no matter what, Celestine. I have no problem with that. I’ll tell whatever news story Crevan tells me to do, because that’s my job and I try to protect Summer, you, Juniper, and Ewan, but don’t be me. You do what you have to do.”
Now? He says this to me now? Angelina Tinder was branded because Bob wanted to speak out? And yet, as soon as he said it, I know that I knew it already, somewhere deep down, somewhere I was afraid to say it out loud.
I swallow hard and nod, almost afraid of the intensity of his look, by his grip on my arm. I know Dad is trying to be helpful, but I can’t help but still feel confused as to what he thinks I should do. The plan was always to lie.
To not be deemed Flawed, I must betray the old man on the bus.
To be true to myself, I will be deemed Flawed.
TWENTY-TWO
I STAND IN the corridor, mind reeling. I am seventeen years old, and though I have fought with my parents about my being more responsible than they give me credit for, I am not ready for this decision. I enter the courtroom, my mind far from clear, my focused plan now a blur in my mind. I don’t even know what the right thing is anymore. Me, who is always so sure. My black and white is now fuzzy and gray.
I scan the room for Art. Even though I know we have just left him in disguise outside, I still remain hopeful he has entered through the public entrance. When I look at the back of the courtroom, I can’t believe what I see. Carrick is standing at the back of the courtroom, his cap on low over his face, arms folded, shoulders up as if he’s a bodyguard watching the door. Our eyes meet, but neither of us reacts. He even stands with the Flawed at the back as though he already is one. I’m beyond moved by his presence, and my eyes fill. I wonder if he has chosen to watch my trial or if they are making him, just as they forced us to listen to that man being branded. And if they are making him, then a lesson is about to be taught in order for him to learn. Either he is supporting me or they want to scare him.
Granddad grins broadly at me and gives me a thumbs-up. Juniper sits beside him, looking tiny and terrified. She gives me a small smile. I’m glad she’s here. My mind is at peace with her being ashamed of me at least.
The trial begins by listening to the first of my character witnesses, Marlena, my friend since I was eight years old. She is nervous, but she is loyal, telling stories of how I have always been mindful of correct behavior, even when around those who aren’t. I think she sums me up well: logical, loyal, fun, but always staying within the rules. It is the first time in two days that I recognize myself in somebody else’s description of me, and I’m glad of the general description of my being considered boring for a teenager.
“Ms. Ponta, is it your belief that Celestine North’s character is Flawed?” Bosco asks.
She looks at me, and there are tears in her eyes, but she speaks firmly. “No, not at all.”
“Thank you, Ms. Ponta.”
Dad speaks on behalf of him and Mom. He talks about how he took me to work with him when I was younger, to the TV station, and how I had to be removed from the editing suite because I wanted everything to be perfect and I kept pointing out imperfections and continuity issues. “Celestine is a logical child. She is a mathematician; she scores top grades in her class; she wants to study at the School of Mathematics at the city university; and her December results show that she is on course to receive far and above the required points. She is a very bright young woman, a pleasure to have as a daughter. She likes things to be in their rightful place; she takes problems and, using theorems, solves them. She follows rules.”
I smile at Dad. This is me.
Judge Sanchez looks at Dad, with her bright red lipstick visible from the moon, and smiles, a sneaky look on her face. “Indeed, Mr. North, but I’d like to quote Kaplansky when he talked about mathematics: ‘The most interesting moments are not where something is proved but where a new concept is involved.’ Mathematics takes basic concepts, but these varying applications have led to a number of abstract theories. Is this the kind of mind your daughter has, Mr. North? The mind that creates new theories, new concepts, takes risks, and goes against the grain?”
Dad thinks about this and looks at me. “No.” He pauses. “I would never have said that Celestine was the type of person to go against the grain. Never.”
I understand what he’s saying. To go against the grain in this circumstance is to go against myself. I have never been the type of person not to do what I believe. He’s telling me to follow my heart.
Judge Sanchez smiles and hears the same thing I heard. “And what about now, Mr. North?” she says in her honey, dulcet tones. “Our children have the ability to take us by surprise. They change when we haven’t noticed.”