Flawed / Perfect. Cecelia Ahern

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      My heart is pounding when I arrive at the canteen, and it is a remarkably different atmosphere from the one I’ve just left. It feels like civilisation, and I can hardly believe it was only yesterday morning that I, too, was walking around freely. People having breakfast meetings before work, lots of dark suits with heads close together, tablets out on every table. Free people who come and go when they want. And Art. Somewhere in this room is Art. My stomach flutters.

      “He’s over there.” Tina points and backs away. “I’ll come back in half an hour so you can get ready for your big moment.”

      I swallow hard at the thought of it.

      I go in the direction Tina pointed me to, searching for Art, for his white-blonde hair, for his turquoise-blue eyes, but I can’t find him anywhere. I’m aware of all the eyes on me as I weave my way between the tables. When I get to the end of the room, I look around, confused, then I start walking back again.

      I feel a hand, a rough grip, around my wrist.

      “Ow,” I say, pulling away. An old, wrinkled hand with protruding veins grips my arm. “Granddad!”

      “Sit down,” he says harshly, but his face is soft.

      I embrace him quickly and then slide into the seat before him, happy to see him, but trying to hide my devastation that Art hasn’t come to see me. I wonder if it’s because he’s not allowed or because he doesn’t want to.

      I don’t get to see Granddad as often as I used to after he and Mum had their falling out last Earth Day. He’s welcome in our home, but only when invited, and he isn’t invited as much as he used to be. It is all on Mum’s terms now. Grandma passed away eight years ago, and he lives alone, tending to his dairy farm.

      He looks around conspiratorially, and for once he’s not just being paranoid. Most of the people here are staring at us.

      “We have to keep our voices down,” he says, moving his head close to mine. “Did you see this?”

      He reaches inside his jacket and retrieves a newspaper. It’s folded lengthways, and he slides it across the table to me. “They won’t want you to see this one, that’s for sure.”

      I open the paper and am shocked by what I see. My photograph takes up practically the entire front page, with only a small space for a dramatic headline and the rest of the story inside. My mouth falls open. The headline shouts, the face of change?

      He slides another across to me. It’s a variation of the same photo, with the headline north. NEW DIRECTION FOR FLAWED CAUSE.

      “What? Which papers are these?” I ask, not recognising them.

      “You won’t see these around here,” he whispers. “They’re not Crevan’s. He doesn’t own them all, you know.”

      “He doesn’t own any of them, Granddad. They’re his sister’s, Candy’s,” I correct him, scanning the articles.

      “In name only. You’re about to learn Crevan’s more involved with those papers than anybody else is. You’re all over Crevan’s papers, too. However, their slant is slightly different. All about the girl who protects society from the Flawed. You’re a hero on both sides. Or a villain, depending on your opinion.”

      Which explains the reason for the level of anger outside in the courtyard. I’ve annoyed just about every side you can imagine. Nobody comes to watch a Flawed cross the courtyard to support them.

      Granddad’s conspiracy theories are what Mum fought with him about. It was fine and harmless for him to believe them on his own, on his farm, in the middle of nowhere, but when he kept bringing them to her doorstep, he was, as she said, bringing danger into our home. Particularly when he was sitting at the same table as Bosco. I thought it was funny at the time, the comments he used to make, but now I see why Mum was afraid.

      The sight of me on the front pages is overwhelming, the things they are saying about me, how they are analysing and dissecting my actions when I, who actually did these things, gave them much less thought. If I am who they say I am, which side am I to believe? I don’t think either of them knows me at all.

      “Granddad, have you spoken to Juniper? Do you know anything? Is she okay? She won’t be a character witness for me. Does she hate me?”

      “I haven’t seen her and I’m sure she doesn’t hate you. Your mother won’t let me into the house. I’ve tried, but she thinks I’ve lost my mind. It’s just that I’ve got all this. This СКАЧАТЬ