though Carrick has been there for longer than his two weeks.
“Uh, wait,” Carrick speaks up, and everyone falls silent in surprise. He unfolds his arms and steps away from the wall, a rare glimpse of awkwardness from him as he fidgets and cracks his fingers.
“Nice,” Mona mutters.
He glares at her and shoves his hands into his pockets instead.
“Right, Lennox,” he says awkwardly, his voice deep and serious. “We met around two weeks ago and I didn’t know much about you. Still really don’t.”
“Well, this is moving,” Lennox says to chuckles.
“But I needed your help with something. And you were there. I got a call from Dahy, and we had to move fast. Because these two idiots’ faces are posted everywhere in the city –” he refers to Fergus and Lorcan – “I needed you. You rose to the occasion. You were there. You didn’t ask many questions. You helped me find someone –” he looks at me and my heart pounds and my stomach flutters – “who is incredibly important to …”
Thud, thud, thud.
“… the Flawed cause.”
Mona tuts.
“And I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that.”
While I melt under Carrick’s intense gaze, Lennox interrupts: “Cash will do just fine,” and everyone laughs.
“Let’s not get into a discussion about any ‘causes’,” Bahee interjects nervously. “The only cause we should be discussing is the cause for celebration yesterday that we only learned about today.”
Suddenly the lights dim and there’s an outbreak of ‘Happy Birthday’ and Kelly, who was beside me and disappeared without my noticing, is exiting the kitchen holding an enormous cake with eighteen candles in it. Evelyn skips alongside, excitedly singing and licking her lips. When the cake reaches me, Evelyn sits on my knee and helps me to blow out the candles.
I said I would never wish again, but twenty-four hours later, I do.
“Thank you so much, everybody,” I beam.
They give me a very generous portion, one that is far beyond what a Flawed is allowed to take in, with our rules on weekly luxury intakes.
“Do you like it?” Evelyn asks. “What’s your favourite part?”
I laugh to cover my awkwardness and look at the sponge cake, cream oozing from the layers.
“The vanilla,” I say easily, taking another bite.
Evelyn frowns. “But it’s lemon sponge.”
I feel my cheeks pink and I heap another spoon into my mouth to avoid having to say anything else. From the corner of my eye I feel Carrick watching me.
Kelly sits beside me, puts her arm round my shoulders, and speaks quietly into my ear. “Your taste will come back eventually. Trust me.”
As I swallow the next tasteless piece of cake, I can’t help but wonder what lie Carrick’s mother told.
At night, when everybody has finally gone to bed, or to work, Carrick comes for me in the cabin. Mona raises her eyebrows at me suggestively, and I laugh as I leave. It’s not what she thinks it is; Carrick and I desperately need to talk. Even though I understand why she’s doing it, Kelly constantly trying to be near Carrick and fussing around him has prevented us from being able to talk. And then I had to wait for him to finish his shift, and when he finally did there was a group dinner, where Kelly sat between us, thinking she was bringing us all together when, really, Carrick sat by stiffly, giving one-worded answers, and I was too tired to speak.
It’s been an exhausting two weeks, a terrifying twenty-four hours, and now that I have finally stopped, and the adrenaline has worn off, I am sore and stiff, my head aches, and I feel like I could sleep forever.
Carrick takes me to the kitchen, the furthest room from everybody’s sleeping quarters, and closes the door. We sit at the kitchen table.
“Did you hear anything from Dahy about my granddad?”
It is the tenth time, at least, that I’ve asked him and Lennox today, though at one point Lennox fixed me with a dangerous look and said, “North, I like you, but I will swat you like a fly.”
“Yes. Just a few minutes ago. Your parents went to see him today. He’s in a holding cell; they’re treating him well. They’re questioning him and holding him for another twenty-four hours on suspicion of aiding the Flawed. They’re trying to say he’s been giving his employees privileges.”
I’m both relieved and not, at the same time. He hasn’t been charged, or hurt. Yet.
“They have no proof against him, or they would have charged him by now. They’re just holding him to smoke you out.”
I wince.
“Sorry.” He backtracks. “I didn’t mean to use that expression. But on the positive side, the fact that they’re holding on to him means he knows you’re still alive.”
“You’re sure?”
“Certain. He’s not stupid.”
I smile. “No, he’s not.”
“So … I’ve been formulating a plan to get us out of this mess.”
“What mess?”
He makes a general gesture, indicating the room around us, the factory.
“You want to leave Vigor?” I ask, surprised.
“You don’t?”
Would it be stupid to say that I like it here? That for the first time in weeks I feel safe? Surrounded by steel, metal, enormous structures, key cards to get through doors, heightened security, all to keep the outsiders from getting in. I don’t feel locked inside, I feel protected, as if for the first time it’s me who is being guarded.
“I feel safe here,” I admit. “And you’ve found your family, and your brother – did you even know you had a brother? Why would you want to give up being with them?”
“I understand, Celestine, I do. But this place isn’t real life. This isn’t freedom. Poor Evelyn is six years old and hasn’t been outside these walls since the day she arrived. She has no friends her age, probably has never met anyone her own age. Bahee doesn’t want us to fight for freedom. If he hears us speak about it, he tells us to stop, so nothing around here is ever going to change.”
“But I got ten hours of sleep last night,” I whine, and he laughs gently.
“I
