Flawed (Flawed, #1)(46)

“Pia Wang,” she says politely, holding out her hand.

I stall, unsure what to do. My seared hand is no longer bandaged; I had to remove the light gauze for school so I wouldn’t be seen as hiding my flaws. I haven’t had to shake hands with anyone yet. My hand hangs limply by my side. I leave her hand hanging midair. Her eyes drop to my hand, and then she smiles. “Oh, of course.” She drops her hand. I’m certain she knew what she was doing.

I didn’t trust her before, and I don’t trust her even more now. If she tried to put me in my place, on the back foot, then she has failed. It is she who has fallen back first, because I won’t make this easy for her.

“Nice to meet you,” she says. “Shall we sit here?”

There are two armchairs by the bay window, which overlooks a small, pretty flower garden that Mom tends when she insists she’s having a fat day. But the shutters are still closed to protect our privacy from the press.

She holds out her hand for me to sit, as though this is her home.

“I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time,” she says with a big grin. “You’re big news, Celestine. Seventeen-year-old ex-girlfriend of Art Crevan, branded five times, turns out to be the most Flawed girl in history. Talking to you is the biggest scoop of the year.”

“I find it intriguing that my life entertains you so much.”

Her smile lessens a little. “I’m not alone in that, obviously.” She refers to the press outside the house. “As you know, under the Guild rules, I have a sit-down with the Flawed, which will go out on our online news, TV, magazines.”

“All the Crevan media.”

She pauses. “Yes. I’d like us to do an interview first, and I propose something new. A series of televised interviews as we follow you around and film your life as it is now.”

“A reality show?”

“If you want to call it that. I prefer documentary.”

“Because you’re a hard-hitting journalist and all.”

She pauses to take the insult. “I’m interested in people. Intrigued by what makes them tick. Interestingly, with you”—her eyes run over me—“I can’t quite figure that out. I’d like to find out.”

“I don’t want to be followed around by a camera. My dad is a TV editor. I know exactly how you can make me look: whatever way you want. If I have to do the newspaper interview, then I’ll do it, but that’s all.”

She’s clearly disappointed by this, but there’s nothing she can do about it. “Okay. It will be a series of meetings, not just one sitting. I want in-depth. I want to understand you, Celestine, really get to know you.”

I half-laugh.

“I amuse you?”

“You work for Crevan. Do you think I’m stupid enough to think that you want to understand me? That anything you have to say about me will be favorable? That anything I actually say will make it into your articles?”

“You’re an interesting case, Celestine.”

“I’m a person. Not a case.”

“Friend of Judge Crevan, honors A student, a perfect good girl. You’re an unlikely candidate for this situation. People want to know about you.”

“Me and Angelina Tinder. Funny, isn’t it, two Flawed on one street within the span of two days? Such a coincidence.”

Something flashes in her eyes. Something different. A doubt of some kind, but then she resumes normal play.

“Euthanasia is frowned upon by our society,” she says, defending the Guild’s ruling on Angelina Tinder.

“So is compassion. I helped an old man to a seat.”

Then I realize I just gave her a headline. She’s thrilled.

“You see, Celestine.” She grins, moving forward in her chair. “It’s comments like that that are making people pay extra attention to you. You’re refreshing. For one so young.”

“I’m not trying to be anything.”

She looks momentarily confused and then looks around quickly before changing her tone, as though she shouldn’t be telling me this. I’m on the edge, trying to analyze her tactics. “Enya Sleepwell was at your trial every day.”

I look at her for more. I have no idea whom she’s talking about.

“You do know who she is,” she says patronizingly.

“No,” I sigh. “I have no idea who that is. Was that the old woman who spat at me? Or the young woman who threw a cabbage at me? Or perhaps it was the lady in the third row who ate an entire bag of Pick n’ Mix on my Naming Day.”

She frowns. “She’s in the news a lot these days. You haven’t heard of her?”

“I don’t watch the news.”

“I find that hard to believe. You’re in it every day.”

“Well, then, why would I watch it? I know what I’m doing every day.”

She gives me a small smile. “Your parents don’t talk to you about what’s happening? About what’s being said out there?”

“It’s not important what’s being said about me. I don’t need to hear it. I can’t control it and I can’t change it.”

She looks confused, then checks the door to make sure it’s closed. “I mean, you seriously … you don’t know this? Enya Sleepwell is in the Vital Party. You must know who they are. They picked up a lot of seats in the last election. They’re the fastest-growing party in Parliament.”