Flawed (Flawed, #1)(60)
I think of the silence in their house when I visited, how there were no signs of their presence, no sounds of their playing. I swallow.
Mom looks at me; her fear is clear. “They were taken into temporary foster care for one week.”
“I won’t be late,” I say quietly. I couldn’t cope with Ewan being taken away from us.
Mary May gathers her things to leave. “By the way, Judge Crevan tells me we will soon be recruiting an old friend of yours. Art Crevan is to become a new member of the Whistleblowers, and I’ve been honored to be asked to personally train him myself.” She gives me a look, a satisfied twinkle in her eye, before she closes the door behind her, leaving me shivering in fear.
“Art couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Working for the Guild is the last thing he’d ever do. He wants to go to university. I’m going to study mathematics; he’s going to study science. That’s what we planned.”
Dad sits on my other side as Mom applies cream to my face to stop the bruising from coming up.
Dad sighs. “Oh, Celestine, I’m sorry.” He kisses my forehead. “Try not to worry. Last I heard, they still don’t even know where Art is. Crevan has put a lot of manpower into finding him, but there’s been nothing yet.”
“I hope he got away,” I say, for the first time realizing Art might be right, maybe we can’t make us work.
“Me too.” Dad smiles sadly. “Now put it out of your mind. I know that’s hard, but you have to look forward. Let’s think of tonight. New beginnings. New friendships.”
I nod, trying to ignore the throbbing in my cheek.
“What was all that noise?” Juniper says, entering the kitchen. “Dad, did you shout?”
She has taken far less time to dress than I expected, and as soon as I see her, I suck in air. She is wearing my clothes. Pink skinny jeans and a cream crop top that I threw out last night. I’d tried it on, but it revealed the F brand at the base of my spine. I can never wear it again. I threw all those clothes out so I’d never see them again, never be reminded of the life I had to leave behind, the person I used to be. And now she’s wearing them. It all looks unusual on her, out of place.
“What?” She looks at me self-consciously, angry and embarrassed at the silence that has greeted her. Wearing it is retribution for my calling her out earlier, but it has backfired. Even Mom and Dad are uncomfortable with what they see. “You’re wearing my clothes. What am I supposed to do?”
I watch Juniper walk across the kitchen confidently in my clothes, in the crop top that would reveal both my chest and spine brands, in flip-flops that would reveal my foot brand. Reminders, rubbing it in my face.
Today Juniper must get the bus to school. She was quite happy with the chauffeuring, but now that I can’t attend any longer, she’s back to getting the bus. I was worried for her, hoping she wouldn’t get into any trouble on the bus, but now I couldn’t care less.
“I need some air,” I say quietly, feeling dizzy.
“Hold on.” Mom holds me back at my shoulders as Juniper steps outside into the full glare of the media. There’s a small, amused smile on her lips. “They’ll think she’s you.”
I look outside to see Juniper being surrounded by the press. She can barely move forward they’re so much in her face. I bite my lip to hide a smile, then slip outside. Perhaps Mr. Murray was correct about being able to slip into the cracks.
FORTY-THREE
LOGAN’S HOUSE IS on the other side of town, in an equally leafy neighborhood in a nice part of the suburbs. I blare the music and lower the window to feel the wind in my face. I sing loudly, feeling free. As long as I have friends who will support me and be friends with me for who I am, I can do this, I can live this life. It’s not what I wanted, it’s not what I planned for in my carefully thought-out plans of yesteryear, but it’s the hand that I’ve been dealt, and I will make as much of it as I can. I sing along to the radio, feeling happy, feeling like maybe I don’t even need to worry about outing Crevan’s act in the chamber. I can live this life. I can be happy.
I’m nervous about arriving at a party with people I don’t know, but it’s more of an excitement. I’m ready to do something new. I’ll be there by 8:00 PM. Two hours of being young again ahead of me, because I don’t want to be home late. I want to be home well ahead of Mary May’s arrival, so there’s no doubt that I have not broken any rules. Two hours is perfect. New friends, new beginnings.
Despite my parents’ nerves about my going, they are both delighted that I’m doing something that a seventeen-year-old should be doing. That I’m not holed up in my bedroom crying as I have been the past few days. But mostly one of the reasons they were so open about my coming here was that they know Logan’s parents. Not personally, but they know of them. Everybody does. They are both pastors, a husband-and-wife team. Because of this, they get a fair amount of media attention, and they have been upstanding citizens. I feel this is probably why Logan reached out with the olive branch. He lives in a house that encourages understanding and forgiveness. He knows what it’s like to be perceived as being different, to be watched by others and analyzed and dissected until there’s nothing left of you but to feel raw and naked.
We follow the directions in Logan’s invitation to a modest white house with a pretty yard. They even have a picket fence. Mom and I embrace, and Mom holds on to me tight, too tight, afraid to let go, but she finally does, eyes teary.