hair already back in place, though I donât recall her fixing them.
As I turn around to look back into my house, I see Bosco standing inside at the window, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold. And I realize itâs him that Bob is shouting at. Bosco, the head of the Guild, is the head of the organization that took Angelina away.
He can help; I know it. Heâs the head of the Flawed court. He will be able to help. It will be all okay. Normality can resume. The world will be turned the right way around again. Things will make sense. Knowing this, my breathing starts to return to normal again.
As Dad nears Bob, the shouting dies down, but the crying continues, a heartbreaking sound.
When you see something, it canât be unseen. When you hear a sound, it can never be unheard. I know, deep down, that this evening I have learned something that can never be unlearned. And the part of my world that is altered will never be the same.
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FIVE
âLETâS ADDRESS THE elephant in the room,â Bosco says suddenly, reaching for the red wine and filling his glass generously. He had insisted we all sit back down at the table, though there isnât anyone who feels hungry after what weâve just witnessed. Dad is still with Bob. Mom is in the kitchen preparing the main course.
âI donât understand,â I say to Bosco. âAngelina Tinder is accused of being Flawed?â
âMm-hmm,â he says good-naturedly, his blue eyes dancing as he looks at me. Itâs almost as if he is enjoying my reaction.
âBut Angelina isââ
Mom drops a plate in the kitchen, and it smashes and it stops me in my tracks. Was that a warning from her? To tell me to stop talking?
âIâm okay!â she calls, too chirpily.
âWhat were you going to say about Angelina, Celestine?â Bosco eyes me carefully.
I swallow. I was going to say that she is nice, that she is kind, that she has young children and sheâs a great mom and that they need her, that she has never said or done anything wrong in all the moments Iâve spent time with her. That sheâs the most talented piano player Iâve ever heard, that I hoped I could play just like her when Iâm older. But I donât because of the way Bosco is looking at me and because Mom never usually breaks anything. Instead I say, âBut she teaches me piano.â
Juniper tuts beside me in disgust. I canât even look at Art, Iâm so disappointed in myself.
Bosco laughs. âWe can find you a new teacher, dear Celestine. Though you raise a good point. Perhaps we should think about stopping her from playing piano. Instruments are a luxury the Flawed donât deserve.â He tucks into his starter and takes a huge bite of carpaccio, the only person at the table even holding his cutlery. âCome to think of it, I hope thatâs all she was teaching you,â Bosco says, his smiling eyes gone.
âYes, of course,â I say, frowning, confused that he would even question that of me. âWhat did she do wrong?â
âTaught you the piano,â Art teases. âHer downfall, if anyoneâs heard you.â
Ewan giggles. I smile at Art, thankful for the break in nervous tension in the room.
âItâs not funny,â Juniper says beside me, quietly but firmly.
Boscoâs eyes move to her immediately. âYouâre correct, Juniper. Itâs not funny.â
Juniper averts her eyes.
And the tension is back.
âNo, itâs not funny, comical , but itâs funny, peculiar ,â I say, feeling slapped.
âThank you, Thesaurus,â Juniper says under her breath. Itâs what she and Ewan always call me when I get bogged down by definitions.
Bosco ignores me and continues to direct his gaze at my sister. âDid Angelina teach you, too, Juniper?â
Juniper looks him square in the eye. âYes, she did. Best teacher I ever had.â
Thereâs a
Gene Wentz, B. Abell Jurus