Perfect

by Cecelia Ahern

  “No,” he says, annoyed but calm. He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t get dramatic like me. He just says steadily, “Anything we can do to get our lives back, we should do.”

  “Without hurting the people we love.”

  Pause.

  “You love him?” he asks, revealing nothing.

  “No! I mean, no.”

  “You’re still wearing the anklet he gave you.”

  “How do you know he gave me that?”

  “The chamber.”

  I remember now. I’d refused to take it off. The guard who branded me was the very same blacksmith who had made it. It had shaken him to see it on me, branding a girl Flawed who he had only days previously thought was perfect, even if he didn’t know me.

  “So you’ll protect Art no matter what he’s done to you?” he asks.

  “What exactly do you think he’s done to me?”

  Art ran away after the branding, he hid out, only letting Juniper know where he was, which hurt me deeply. But I’ve since realized he wasn’t trying to hide from me, he didn’t want to hurt me. He was trying to stay away from his dad, whom he hated for what he’d done to me, and anyway, Carrick wouldn’t know anything about that. He wasn’t around, and I didn’t tell him. “Carrick, what are you talking about? What do you think Art has done to me?”

  “Nothing,” he says, his face unreadable.

  “Carrick, no secrets, tell me everything.” I’m aware of my hypocrisy, seeing as I haven’t told him about not actually possessing the footage.

  Deadpan face again, revealing nothing, but then it breaks. “If I were him, I wouldn’t have left you like that on the bus. He let them take you away from him. I wouldn’t have let them take you without a fight. I would have made them take me, too. I would have stood beside you on the bus and in court. I would have told the media the truth. Everybody wanted to hear from him, and he chose not to say anything.”

  “He did try to speak for me in court…” I say quietly.

  “His last-minute hissy fit? It was too late. It was more of a tantrum against his dad than anything else. I just wouldn’t have let it happen,” he says simply.

  I start to realize what exactly Granddad meant when he said Art had cut me loose. I never thought about it the way Carrick phrased it. I kept understanding Art’s perspective; his fear, his situation, but maybe Carrick’s right—perhaps Art could have spoken up for me more.

  “You were there for me in court every day,” I say, remembering. Carrick was loyal to me; Carrick showed the support that my boyfriend at the time didn’t. “But you hated me when you first saw me.” I smile, sitting back down on the bed.

  “Hated you,” he agrees.

  “Hey!” I slap him playfully on his arm. He catches my hand and pulls me close.

  “You were hugging Crevan,” he says. “I remember you all, huddled around the table with your parents and him, trying to come up with a way out of it, your fancy clothes all laid out like they were going to fix it all.”

  I picture my story from his angle, and I don’t blame him for hating me. It was pathetic.

  “When did you stop hating me?” I ask.

  He fixes me with an intense stare. “Approximately fifteen minutes ago.”

  I shake my head, trying to hide my smile. “You’re right, you don’t do jokes very well.”

  “It was when I saw you in court for the first time.”

  “Judge Sanchez announced they weren’t letting me home for the trial. You realized the Guild wasn’t on my side then.”

  “No. It was before that. The minute you stepped inside the courtroom you looked so terrified—I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look so scared. I wanted to be glad. I wanted to be pleased by what everyone shouted at you in the courtyard; I wanted to feel like you deserved it, but as soon as I saw you in court I thought to myself, This girl doesn’t think that it will be all handed to her on a plate. You were afraid from the start, which makes your bravery all the more striking.”

  I feel shy all of a sudden, from his compliments.

  “Sorry for losing my temper.” I sigh.

  “I understand,” Carrick says. “My timing sucked.”

  “Can we just rewind five minutes?”

  “Let’s rewind more.” He smiles. “Thirty minutes? I want to try the combination code again if I can remember it. What was it? One, two, three…? I should have written it down,” he murmurs as he kisses my branded skin again.

  His head disappears up my T-shirt.

  “Found one,” he says, voice muffled.

  I can’t help but laugh.

  And then an alarm rings out.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  CARRICK’S HEAD APPEARS from under my T-shirt and he leaps out of the bed at top speed to dress. Thankfully I’m already dressed, so I search for my sneakers.

  “What’s that?”

  “I don’t know. Nothing good.”

  The door to the cabin bursts open. It’s Lennox, who takes no heed of the fact I’m in Carrick’s cabin at this hour and he’s half-naked. “Whistleblowers at the gate.”

  “Oh my God.” My stomach sinks. My haven has been sprung.

  The east wing, which houses the Flawed, is in pandemonium. Everyone is running around in a panic, half-asleep, trying to gather themselves. The Flawed workers who were on shift are running toward the cabins, terror in their eyes. There are at least a dozen more Flawed whom I haven’t met yet.

  Eddie arrives, the stress crawling up from his neck to his face in a red rash.

  “What’s going on, Eddie?” Carrick asks.

  “I don’t know, but let’s be clear about one thing: I never knew anything about you guys, okay?”

  Mona looks disgusted. “Your ass is safe, Eddie, don’t worry, now come on—help us save ours.”

  Cordelia clings to Evelyn, the terror clear on her face. If the Whistleblowers find us, not only will they take us away, but they’ll also separate Evelyn from Cordelia because she’s F.A.B.

  “What’s the routine? What’s the drill? For these types of situations?” I ask, hearing the shake in my voice.

  Eddie won’t meet my eye; he paces the room.

  “Surely you have some sort of emergency plan?” I look around at everybody.

  “We never needed one,” Bahee says anxiously. “They’ve come here twice in all the years I’ve been here, and each time we were warned.”

  “Well, they knew exactly when to come tonight. Somebody told them,” Carrick says accusingly.

  I look at Carrick in panic: His face is clouded over.

  “Which one of you told them?” he shouts.

  “Carrick!” Kelly says gently. “Nobody here would do that.” She reaches out for him and he pulls back from her, an insult of the worst kind. It’s not just a rejection of his mother, it’s almost an accusation, a show of distrust.

  “Where’s Rogan?” Carrick asks.

  We look around for his brother, but there’s no sign of him, even in the darkened corners.

  “How convenient,” Carrick says angrily. “Someone alerts the Whistleblowers and Rogan disappears.”

  “How dare you.” His mom slaps him across the face, then pulls her hand away in surprise, as if the slap hurt her more.

  I gasp as Adam jumps in between them. “Carrick, you need to check yourself now, and calm down. We’re all under pressure. I’m sure Rogan is hiding somewhere safely. He wouldn’t do this.”

  “No?” Carrick challenges him. “I guess I don’t know him as well as you do.”

  Uncomfortable, Bahee tries to calm everyone down. “I have my passes to the lab. The Whistleblowers won’t be allowed access without the correct paperwork. They’ll have to wait until morning to get it, and the bureaucracy will kill them. Everyone will be safe with me.”

  Carrick eyes him suspiciously. “Okay, you all go with Bahee. Lennox, Fergus, Lorcan, and I will break away. Celestine, you stay with me.”

  I can tell that Carrick has a plan, so I don’t bother asking
him what it is. I trust him.

  “Celestine can stay with us,” Bahee says, placing a protective arm around me. “It’s too risky out there. I’ll keep her safe in the lab. You have my word.”

  Carrick shakes his head. “We’ve got a route out of here. We can get straight to the Jeep. If anyone wants to come, come, but we have to go now.” He grabs my hand and leads me out of the cabin.

  “And lead her straight out to them?” Bahee pipes up. “Whistleblowers will be blocking every street leading from here. Think, Carrick.”

  Carrick looks doubtful.

  “You have to trust us,” Kelly says tearfully.

  I can see Carrick’s guilt, for how he made his mother feel. He looks at me. Bahee’s plan sounds better than Carrick’s. Hiding gives me more of a chance than running straight into their arms.

  “Maybe we should stay,” I whisper to him.

  “We shouldn’t all stay together,” he says. “I’m going to take my chances this way. You hide with the others. I’ll get the Jeep ready. I’ll make a plan; I’ll come back and get you when the time is right. Trust me.”

  “I do.” I smile.

  He kisses me quickly.

  Bahee pats Carrick on his back. “She’s in safe hands. Follow me, everyone,” Bahee says urgently, hand on my arm.

  We follow Bahee. Through the east wing, down the steps, and outside to the night air. The sun is about to rise, I can see light on the horizon. I wonder what state we’ll all be in when the sun is up. We run at high speed, keeping low, following Bahee across the compound, avoiding the main routes. Though he said otherwise, I’m betting Bahee has this escape route mapped out in his head and takes it every night just in case.

  There’s still no sign of Rogan, and I wonder about Carrick’s accusation. Rogan clearly had dark thoughts about his brother joining their lives, but I’m not sure if he would orchestrate all this and risk being found and having his family broken up. But perhaps Carrick is right about it being someone within these walls. I fear that it was Leonard, that this is all my fault. If I’d told Carrick about him coming to see me in my cabin, asking about Lizzie, then maybe we would have had time to plan an escape just in case.

  Who was listening to Carrick and me outside the cabin door tonight?

  We run up six flights of stairs, trying to be quiet as our shoes hit the metal, and reach the rooftop. Bahee is ahead of us all, standing at the high-security door entrance, holding it open. Everyone runs inside and down a corridor. I start to relax at seeing the size of the door, a big steel shield from the Whistleblowers, and the wall beside it covered with all kinds of security keypads and locks. Safety is in sight.

  Evelyn runs in ahead of me. When it’s my turn, Bahee blocks the entrance.

  His smile has vanished, his eyes are cold behind the tinted glasses. He holds on to the door handle tightly.

  “Bahee?” I say, a nervous tremor in my voice.

  “Remember, you brought this on us. You should never have come here.” And he slams the door in my face.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  I’M LEFT STANDING on the rooftop in absolute shock, while an army of Whistleblowers streams into the compound below. Their red suits are gaudy and warn of danger; it’s like they bleed into the courtyard. They’re dressed in their riot gear, with their black helmets and shields. What do they think is going to happen? A shoot-out? And then I realize it’s all for the media. To show the public just how dangerous Celestine North is.

  It’s too late for me to hide anywhere now; I’m completely exposed on the rooftop, all they need to do is look up. I’m surrounded. There’s no way of getting down off this roof, not alive anyway.

  The Whistleblowers climb the metal fire escape, and the first feeling of panic consumes me. It’s over. After all this, it’s over. But then a hatch opens in the ground beside me and a head pops up. I leap away and retreat to the corner, thinking it’s a Whistleblower.

  “Come on!” Leonard says impatiently, nervously.

  I have one second to judge his honesty. I curse myself for not going with Carrick when I had the chance. He’s the only person I trust. I hear the Whistleblowers’ boots on the metal stairs. Leonard’s face is open and honest; Carrick said I could trust Leonard. I trust Carrick. Granddad said don’t trust anybody. I trust Granddad. My head spins.

  With no other options open to me, I take a leap of faith and hurry toward him. He’s standing on a ladder and offers me his hand. I take it and lower myself inside while Leonard shuts the hatch quickly and silently above us. We are in a narrow passage, I’m not sure if it’s for ventilation or heating, but the air is tight and it’s close. We’re crouched down, hunched over.

  Leonard holds his fingers to his lips to keep me quiet, but he doesn’t need to tell me that—I’m terrified, and I know he is, too, from the sound of our short breaths in the tight space. We hear the Whistleblowers’ boots clambering around above us trying to figure out the magic act: How did Celestine North disappear?

  My heart pounds, and sweat glistens on Leonard’s brow; I can smell the fear emanating from him. People I love have surprised me by hurting me, and it’s been the people I’ve least expected who have redeemed and restored my faith. It never ceases to both break my heart and amaze me. Juniper could probably have predicted this, she always understood people and situations so much better than I did. If she was watching me from anywhere she’d probably be saying, “Now you’re getting it, Celestine!”

  The heavy footsteps above us are circling, scurrying around in panic, all order lost, like a trail of ants that have lost their scent. I didn’t know the hatch was here until it opened, the outline faint and flush with the surface. I’m hoping they won’t see it, but they’re Whistleblowers—they’re trained to see everything; they don’t miss a trick.

  “They won’t be able to open it from up there,” Leonard whispers, his hot breath on my neck. “They can’t gain access from outside.” He points to the panel on the ceiling, which opens with the swipe of a security key card. “But it’s only a matter of time until they try to find their way to us from another angle.”

  The stomping on the hatch ends and we begin to hear pounding on Bahee’s door instead. I think of Carrick’s parents, Cordelia, little Evelyn, and Mona, all huddled inside, thinking they were safe.

  You brought this on yourself. I direct Bahee’s words back at him angrily. Bahee, the peace-loving leader. If he has orchestrated this search to get rid of me, then it’s his fear of change that brought greater change than I ever would have, and will inevitably hurt the people he loves the most.

  “Bahee locked me out of the room,” I whisper to Leonard. “Could he have called the Whistleblowers? I don’t get why he’d risk his own safety.”

  “I’m not surprised.” He shakes his head angrily. “Lizzie always thought Bahee was a creep. She couldn’t stand him. I’m sure it was him.”

  And at that, I am surprised by how little I have learned after all. I fell for Bahee’s nice-guy act.

  I feel that I owe Leonard something.

  “I asked Mona about Lizzie,” I whisper, and despite what’s happening above us I have his full attention. “She said that Lizzie told you she was Flawed, that you didn’t want anything to do with her, and she ran away heartbroken.”

  “That never happened,” he says, hurt, angry.

  He says it too loudly. I push my hand to his mouth. His eyes are wide and he nods quickly, understanding, keen to continue our conversation.

  “I told you,” he whispers, “I knew she was Flawed all along. Or I suspected. Her brand was on her chest. She was funny about me touching her…” His face goes beet red. “I wouldn’t have cared; I would never have let her go. I wanted her to confide in me; I kept bringing up the fact that I’m against the Guild, trying to make it easy for her to tell me. Why would Lizzie tell Mona that?”

  I frown, trying to work it all out, but I can’t. Was Mona lying to me? I don’t know her well enough—I don’t know anybody here well enough, but even s
o, that idea of her feels wrong.

  I shake my head. “I don’t know. But we’ll find out,” I say, determined.

  The Whistleblowers’ footsteps retreat back down the fire escape.

  “Thanks for your help, Leonard. I appreciate what you’ve risked.”

  “I’m just following your lead. During the trial you said you helped the old man because it was the right thing to do. Compassion and logic,” he says. “I’m voting the Vital Party.”

  I smile.

  “We’d better move, in case they try to find another way in here. This way.” He moves and I follow him through a maze that traverses the plant.

  Leonard guides me to a safe position where we can see the Whistleblowers gathering in the entrance courtyard. On one side are a dozen Flawed people who work in the factory legitimately, all of them displaying their F armbands on their sleeves. They have been called to witness whatever is about to happen. On the other side a team of Whistleblowers surrounds the discovered evaders: Carrick’s parents, Cordelia and Evelyn, Bahee, and Mona, who thought they were safe in the laboratory. My heart thuds: If they’re here for me, I should give myself up. Me instead of them would be the right thing to do.

  Thud, thud, thud.

  I move forward.

  “What are you doing?” Leonard asks, panic in his voice.

  “I can’t let them be taken away. They’re here for me.”

  “You don’t know that!” he says. “Celestine! Come back!”

  Suddenly Evelyn screams as a Whistleblower grabs her, and I stand up tall and quicken my step. If anyone looks up now they’ll see me. A hand grips me from the darkness and pulls me close. I go to fight it but as soon as our bodies touch I sense it’s Carrick. I can smell him. I squeeze my body tightly to his, and he wraps his arms around me.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he says, voice low.

  “I can’t let them be taken away.”

  “So they’ll take you and them, what good will that do? Think about it, Celestine.”

  He’s always calm; even under these circumstances, his sentences are slow, as if he is able to process everything in proper time, unlike me, whose head is jumping around with images and thoughts, panic and fear.