Flawed (Flawed, #1)(45)

“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.”

“I don’t want to be coached. He’ll just tell me to lie, and I can’t do that.”

It still hurts for me to put full weight on my foot, but I don’t want Pia to see me limping. She’s waiting for me in the library. I take a deep breath and enter. I tell Mom it’s okay for us to be alone. I would prefer it, without having to look at her constantly and worry if what I’m saying is okay. I don’t plan on saying much anyway. Monosyllabic answers would kill Pia, and that’s what I intend on giving.

Pia is even tinier in the flesh than on TV. She’s like a petite doll that looks like the wind could blow her over, though I know that is not the case. Even the wind would lose a battle with her. Her skin is soft and peachy, her clothes delicate and pretty, a silk ivory top with delicate organza flowers and a lace pencil skirt. She even smells of peaches. Everything about her is so fine and pretty, but then her eyes are hard. Not cold, but ready. All-seeing, aware of everything like two zoom lenses on a camera.