Perfect

by Cecelia Ahern

  Mr. Berry seems to get shoved away at this point and his camera drops. We watch his feet. Then Whistleblowers’ boots, a third pair of shoes. Carrick’s sneakers.

  “Keep filming,” Carrick says, his voice clear on the tape.

  Judge Sanchez’s head snaps up to me. “Whose voice is that?”

  We both ignore her. The phone is lifted just in time to see my tongue being branded. And then Crevan starts shouting.

  “Repent, Celestine.”

  He paces before me in the chair, the picture perfectly clear. “Repent!”

  The guards are unstrapping me from the chair. They all appear shaken, including Bark, who branded me, and Funar, who hated me. They are helping me into a wheelchair.

  “Brand her spine,” Crevan says suddenly. It’s loud and clear, and I’m so relieved that we’ve got him.

  I move away from the computer not because I can’t bear to see it but because I want to see Judge Sanchez’s face. I need to see her witness what happened to me under her power.

  Her face is blank, unreadable, controlled. Not a sign of any emotion, no pity, no sympathy, nothing. Her eyes move across the images, processing them all like a robot.

  As I hear Crevan shout, the guards putting up a fight, Crevan grabbing the branding rod, and then my own guttural sounds, she doesn’t blink once. Raphael scratches his head, his nose, fidgets in his chair, uncomfortable, and as my spine is branded without anesthetic and I scream out in utter anguish, so loudly that Tobias returns to see what’s going on, she doesn’t even blink.

  The video finishes.

  She looks up at me, cool as a cucumber. But it’s too cool; it’s too calm; it’s too obvious that it’s a mask to hide how she really feels.

  “He’ll argue that it’s a reenactment.”

  “Baloney,” Raphael says.

  “Was that…?” Tobias asks, in shock.

  “All you have to do is go on YouTube and you’ll find hundreds more like it.” Sanchez ignores her son.

  “This is clearly authentic,” Raphael says.

  “Did Crevan…?” Tobias asks again. Nobody pays attention.

  “Her Flawed character, his power and persuasion, he could convince people this isn’t real,” Judge Sanchez continues.

  “There’s this.” I turn around and show her the brand on my body.

  “Oh my God,” Tobias says, hands going to his head, his coolness gone.

  “Tobias! Out!” she shouts. “This is none of your business!” He looks at her with shock and then anger. He storms back to his bedroom.

  Sanchez turns back to us. “This spine brand doesn’t appear to take the same shape as the other brands.”

  “She wasn’t strapped down, there wasn’t any anesthetic, Judge Crevan did it to her himself, the girl screamed bloody murder with the agony—you saw it yourself. Her brand is perfect, in keeping with the events we just viewed.” Raphael looks at her incredulously, trying to stay calm, but his anger is obvious. “What’s going on here? I thought you wanted to remove Crevan from the Guild. Have you lost your nerve?”

  “No, I haven’t lost my nerve, and removing Judge Crevan as head judge is my plan.”

  “You told me to bring you the proof to take Crevan down and I did,” I say, anger rising because I can sense her backing out.

  She looks at me then and for the first time her expression changes.

  “You brought me too much, Celestine. What you have here is enough to bring down the entire Guild. Now I know why Crevan wants you so much.”

  FIFTY-THREE

  I LOOK AT Raphael nervously. He shares a similar look. We just went from advantage to disadvantage. We are in a precarious position. Sanchez wanted Crevan out, not to bring an end to the Guild. This gives her reason to be the cat and me the mouse once again.

  Raphael clears his throat. “So this gives us the opportunity to make a deal.”

  Sanchez’s head snaps around to him so fast. “Are you threatening me?”

  “Are you threatening my client?” he replies coolly.

  Her forehead wrinkles a little.

  “Judge Sanchez, the game hasn’t changed here. We brought you what you wanted, but this doesn’t have to go public. You can use the video in any way you want to discredit Crevan. You’re still in control here. All that needs to happen is that Crevan’s actions are found to be not in keeping with Guild rules and he is discharged. And my client’s verdict is therefore overturned.”

  She’s thinking hard. “But Crevan will know I won’t want anyone to see this. I have nothing on him. I was part of the judging committee that allowed this to happen. Whether I knew about it or not, I am also responsible. It will fall to all three Guild judges—me, Jackson, and Crevan—to take responsibility.”

  “Not if you bring it to light. You get to make the first move,” Raphael says.

  “We have him,” I say, hearing the tremor in my voice.

  “What I have, Celestine”—she looks at me—“is you. And Crevan is looking for you.”

  “You’re going to use me to get what you want,” I say.

  “This is preposterous,” Raphael yells, jumping down from his seat. “This is unethical, immoral, unprincipled, and below the very laws that the Guild practices. I’ll fight you on this all the way,” Raphael says. “There is an inquiry into Crevan already. This is the beginning of the end for the Guild. You need to choose whose side you’re on. That of the survivors, or the sinking ship.”

  “You’re right. I’m a survivor.”

  Raphael looks relieved.

  “It’s just a shame I see your cause as the sinking ship. It will be very difficult for you to fight this all the way, Raphael, when you’re being held by the Guild for aiding a Flawed.”

  “He’s my lawyer. We signed a contract.”

  “Representing an evader.”

  Raphael is shaking his head, a big smile on his face, as though finding the dismal situation hilarious.

  He looks at me. “Come on, Celestine, let’s get out of here.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not going to let you leave.” She picks up the phone. “Grace, it’s me. Get Crevan on the phone immediately.”

  I rush for the USB, which is still in the laptop, but she grabs it from me and shoves me away. She’s stronger than I thought and I fall back against the coffee table, which shatters as my elbow whacks the glass. Raphael runs to my side.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Tobias!” she calls.

  Her son appears, dressed now in his boarding school tracksuit, assesses the situation, me on the floor lying on broken glass, his mom on the phone. He knows her well.

  “What did you do?” he asks his mother.

  “Stop them from leaving.” She rushes to her bedroom with her mobile to her ear. “Damn it, Grace, keep calling him. I need to speak to him immediately. Tobias, lock the door now!” she yells as she closes the bedroom door behind her.

  Tobias rushes to the front door and locks it, then keys a number into a control panel. A robotic voice announces the apartment is in lockdown. Someone in Sanchez’s position needs high security. Tobias looks at us uncertainly.

  Raphael is strong, but not enough of a match for Tobias.

  “Let us out,” Raphael says. “You can’t hold us here against our will. You saw the video, you know what Crevan did. You know who’s right and who’s wrong here.”

  Tobias, panicking, can’t make a decision. The sweat breaks out on his brow.

  Raphael shakes his head, disgusted. “The problem with people who are always gazing at the stars is that they often miss what’s going on around them. You seem like a nice boy. Your mother doesn’t. Seem like a nice woman, that is.”

  Tobias looks worriedly from him to me, where Raphael is pulling me up from the shattered glass. Thankfully none of it has punctured my skin.

  “I can’t do this,” Tobias mutters, his upper lip breaking out in sweat. “Mom!” he yells at the top of his voice so that she comes running out of her bedroom, half-dressed.
“You’re on your own. I can’t do this anymore. You say you’re right, you say it all the time, but…” His voice catches. “You should hear how they talk about you at school. They’re talking about marching on the castle. Protesting the Guild. I’m embarrassed to say who you are, and what you do, to my own friends.”

  “It’s Crevan, Tobias,” she says, in a tone that I’m not used to hearing from her, her mom voice. “He’s brought our reputation down, but I’m doing this to fix it. People will believe in the Guild again. I promise you. I want you to be proud of me, but you have to trust me.”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “You’re just as bad as him. I’m beginning to wonder who the Flawed really are. It’s not them.…” He takes a deep breath, summoning the courage. “It’s you.” He spits it at her. He enters the alarm code, unlocks the front door, and storms out, leaving it wide open.

  FIFTY-FOUR

  RAPHAEL AND I both stare at the open door in surprise.

  Judge Sanchez is momentarily stunned by her son’s leaving her alone in this situation, but then she recovers. Instead of chasing after him, she slams the door and fires the code into the keypad. We are once again in lockdown. She has one heel on, the other foot in a stocking. She’s wearing a burgundy pencil skirt and a red silk blouse. The red lips and red-framed glasses are back on.

  Her phone rings from her bedroom and she slowly backs away from us, torn between answering her phone and afraid of leaving us alone. She runs to her room. The ringing stops on her way and we hear her curse.

  I check my own phone to see if there’s a message from Carrick.

  Juniper out. Everybody safe. You?

  The relief floods through me. The good news fires me up and I get an idea. It’s okay for Crevan to now know that I’m no longer in his control. Juniper is safe; Mom is safe; Carrick is safe.

  “What are you doing?” Raphael asks as I pick up the phone on Judge Sanchez’s desk.

  “Connect me to Highland Castle, please,” I say quickly.

  “What are you doing?” Raphael hurries over to me.

  I block the cradle, afraid he’ll end the call, and mouth, “Trust me.”

  He backs off a little.

  “Hello, my name is Celestine North, and I’d like to turn myself in,” I say quickly, while Raphael practically rolls around in horror. He stretches to try to reach the phone but I stand on a chair to get farther from him.

  “I’m at Judge Sanchez’s apartment in Grimes Tower, and I would like to be taken away from here immediately. Thank you.” I hang up the phone, my heart pounding.

  “Why did you do that?” he asks.

  “Judge Sanchez is phoning Crevan. She wants to make a deal with him. Do you think either of them is going to allow us to be officially taken into the Guild’s custody, knowing what we know about them? We would actually be safer if the Whistleblowers take us in.”

  Raphael suddenly turns around and sits up. “I hadn’t thought of that. You know what, that might be one of your cleverest ideas yet. It’s my intelligence—it’s rubbing off on you.”

  “We just have to hope the Whistleblowers get here first.”

  Judge Sanchez checks on us now and then, while desperately trying to make contact with Crevan, dialing every number she can think of. She doesn’t want us to hear her make a deal using my freedom for her own gain, and so she talks in a low voice in another room. Raphael and I sit in the living room awaiting our fate. Within minutes there’s banging on the door. I look out the spyhole and I’ve never been so happy to see red helmets.

  “Whistleblowers,” I say.

  We high-five.

  FIFTY-FIVE

  “WHISTLEBLOWERS!” THEY SHOUT. “Open the door!”

  “I’m afraid I can’t,” Raphael says, cool as anything, through the door. “We’re locked in and we can’t open it. I think you’ll have to break down the door.”

  Despite what’s going on, Whistleblowers about to break down the door to take me away, it’s so easy to be sucked into Raphael’s blasé view of the world. I feel as cool as he is acting. Though I know that is only for appearance’s sake; a man who is vegan and decorates his entire office in faux human trophies just to make a point, and spends his life fighting for justice for others, isn’t blasé about anything. Perhaps that’s why I’m smiling, because I know that beneath all the jokes, he means business.

  “Stand back, we’re going to breach the door,” one shouts, and we do.

  I expect to hear a mechanical lock pick but instead there’s a bang on the door.

  “A sledgehammer,” Raphael says, leaning against the wall, arms folded. “They came prepared.”

  There’s a second bang against the door.

  “What’s going on?” Judge Sanchez says, firing herself out of her bedroom, and in a flap. I wonder if she got to negotiate with Crevan yet. If my life has been traded for her power.

  “Whistleblowers are here,” I explain calmly.

  “What?” She looks from me to Raphael in horror. Our calm demeanors are no doubt rattling her even more. “No. They can’t be.”

  BANG.

  “They are,” Raphael backs me up, and pops a mint into his mouth. “I daresay we wouldn’t hear the whistles from all the way up here.”

  Her face crinkles up. “What?”

  She is so unsettled, it is amusing.

  BANG.

  “What are they doing?”

  “Breaching the door,” Raphael explains.

  “What? Why? Hello! Helloo! Please stop!”

  “Because we’re locked in,” I explain.

  She attempts her authoritative voice but she can’t be heard from the other side of the door, where the Whistleblowers are concentrating hard on knocking it down with a sledgehammer.

  The door finally caves in.

  Judge Sanchez jumps back as sawdust, wood, and part of a sledgehammer come flying in on her plush carpet. There are a dozen Whistleblowers outside.

  “Judge Sanchez,” one young man says, breaking through the door and stepping in. “We received information that Celestine North is here. Are you okay?”

  Judge Sanchez looks at him in disgust, at her carpet, at her silk shirt covered in woodchips and sawdust.

  “You broke my door.”

  He suddenly looks nervous. “We were told that it couldn’t be opened.”

  “That’s right, because I locked them in.”

  He reddens.

  A Whistleblower behind him bites his lip to stop himself from laughing.

  “We’ll arrange to have a new door fitted immediately, Judge.”

  “Of course you will,” she snaps, then pinches the bridge of her nose. “Now tell me, why … How … What are you doing here? This is a private matter for Judge Crevan. I was waiting for him to call me back.”

  They look at one another, obviously confused. “Somebody called us from this address, and I believe Judge Crevan is preoccupied at the moment with arrangements for the gathering.”

  “Gathering?” Raphael asks. “What gathering?”

  “All Flawed have been asked to report to their Whistleblowers immediately, where they will be brought to a central location. We have been informed we must take all Flawed to this location, no exceptions.”

  “No, but you can’t take Celestine. She’s an Evader. I must speak to Judge Crevan first,” Judge Sanchez says.

  “We are following Judge Crevan’s instructions, Judge Sanchez,” another Whistleblower speaks up, stepping closer to me. “All Flawed, no exceptions, are to be brought to this location. Judge Crevan will be informed of Celestine’s capture and we’ll ensure she receives appropriate punishment for her evasion.”

  Before he takes me by the elbow, he lifts the red whistle that’s hanging on a gold chain around his neck.

  “Block your ears,” I say to Raphael.

  He does so just in time, because all twelve Whistleblowers blow their whistle to signal the arrest of another Flawed. Again.

  PART THREE

  FIFTY-SIX
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  JUDGE SANCHEZ ORDERS them to take custody of Raphael, too. Despite his profession and our contract, he is seen as aiding an evader.

  We’re brought to a warehouse along the docklands where Flawed curfew buses line up.

  “What’s going on?” I ask Raphael, who doesn’t answer. He’s too busy looking out the window, trying to figure it all out.

  “Were you informed that you were to report to your Whistleblower today?” he asks me finally.

  “I wouldn’t know. I’m an evader. I’ve been with people who never report to Whistleblowers.”

  “Could someone please tell me what’s going on?” Raphael sits forward and asks a Whistleblower.

  “All Flawed are to gather at this address at nine AM sharp.”

  “Why?”

  “Guild’s orders.”

  “And tell me, what do you plan to do with me? I’m not Flawed.”

  “We’re bringing you to the castle.”

  “Judge Crevan is going to address the Flawed,” a more helpful Whistleblower adds.

  “In person?” Raphael frowns. “All the Flawed in the whole of Humming?”

  “Not all at once. Everyone has designated areas. Have you not heard any of this?” a Whistleblower asks, twisting around in his seat and looking at me as if he thinks I’ve been living on another planet.

  “Fugitive.” Raphael points at me. “Not much use for this kind of thing when you’re on the run. Though it would have helped to know.”

  “I’m sorry about this, Raphael,” I say.

  “Don’t apologize. I knew the ending, remember? I feel strangely free. Perhaps my house in the mountains was my self-imposed imprisonment. This is the stuff I was made to do. Are you okay?”

  I nod, then shake my head, then shrug. I tried to beat them, I tried to stay one step ahead of them, but now I’m here and I don’t know what this is.

  “I’ll take that as a yes, only because I’m not good at reassurance.”

  The car stalls in traffic and I look out at the warehouses that line the docks. Down a narrow alley that separates two warehouses I see two women on a cigarette break. They’re wearing white overalls covered in red stains, and the stains mark their arms, too, splattered all the way to their elbows.