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flawed cecelia ahern pdf free download

flawed cecelia ahern pdf free download

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Celestine North is Flawed. Ever since Judge Crevan declared her the number one threat to the public, she has been a ghost, on the run with Carrick, the only person she can trust. But Celestine has a secret—one that could bring the entire Flawed system crumbling to the ground. A secret that has already caused countless people to go missing. Search this site.

Cosway Review, Discussion. Books Video icon An illustration of two cells of a film strip. Video Audio icon An illustration of an audio speaker. Audio Software icon An illustration of a 3. Software Images icon An illustration of two photographs. Happy Earth Day. WHEN I HEAR that the quiet murmuring has ended in my parents bedroom, which was decidedly longer tonight than usual after the evenings events, and the house has settled for the night, I make my way to the summit, where Art and I have been meeting most nights for the past three months.

I have spent more time with the Crevans over the past few months than with my own family, often wishing I could stay with them for good. I feel like I t in with them more, that everything with them is logical and makes sense. I have always believed in the workings of the Guild. I am one of Boscos greatest supporters. I like to hear him regale people with stories of the courthouse over dinner, how he Ousted a charity board member for Every day, he has interesting stories coming through his courtroom, and I love sitting down and hearing about them.

I understand what he is doing. He is preventing people from being deceived. I know the difference between right and wrong. I understand the rules. But today I feel that the rules, of which I am a true supporter, have been blurred, because today they were literally on my front doorstep. It is PM. The summit overlooks the sleeping capital city. We live in a valley surrounded by mountains. Atop one of those mountains, Highland Castle dominates the city. Lit up by powerful red uplighters at night, it is menacing as it watches over us.

It stands above us all, the tallest round tower in the world, its powerful eye seeing far and wide. The home of centuries of invasions and massacres, it now houses state conferences and dinners, guided tours of its architecture, museums of its ancient artifacts, and, of course more famously now, the ofces of the Guild. We sit on the summit opposite the castle; to the left of us, the lights of more cities dot the night and stretch on forever, the castle keeping its watchful eye on them all.

To the right are farmland and industry, where my granddad lives. Humming is the largest and capital city of Highland, and it is rich in history and beauty. Tourists ock from all over the world to visit our city, our bridges, our fairy-tale castle and palace, our cobblestoned pathways, and our ornate town square.

Most of its buildings have survived the violence and destruction of the twentieth century, and it is a hub for appreciators of our Romanesque,. At thirty feet wide and over six hundred yards long and built in the fourteenth century, it crosses the river and leads to Highland Castle. It, too, is a beauty at night, lit up at its six arches, three bridge towers, and the statues from our history lining the bridge to protect it. I like to travel the world on vacations, but I intend on continuing to live here after school.

Art and I have talked about it. We want to go to the city university, me studying mathematics, him studying science. We have it all worked out. Juniper wants to leave as soon as she can, become a snowboard instructor in Switzerland by winter, a lifeguard in Portugal by summer, or something like that.

Art says he likes going to the summit because it gives him perspective. Hes had a tough year. His mother passed away, and I think this place helps him rise above the worries on the ground, to look at it from a height as if he is distanced from the problems, detached from his grief, which is lessening with the months.

I, on the other hand, see it as a place where it is Art and me against the rest of the world. While the one million people sleep in the city below us, Art and I are together, and it makes our bond feel even stronger.

It makes me feel invincible, alive. I know how the castle feels watching over everybody: untouchable. It is only over the past six months that I have felt this way about Art. We have been friends since we were twelve, when we started school together. The teacher placed us beside each other on the rst day. We hung out together with a group, me with the It was only a year ago, when his mom passed away, that Art suddenly began to seek me out, not caring about the perception of us to the others.

Wed come here together and talk, him grieving and slowly coming to terms with his moms death; he watched her slowly die of cancer. And then the grieving gradually ickered out, didnt become the main reason for our meeting, and it became something else. That was when the something happened for me. The rush of butter ies when I saw him, the silly smile that would appear onmy face at the very thought of him, the ner vous bubbles in mystomach, the jolt of electricity when his skin brushed mine.

Suddenly I cared about what I wore, what I said, how I looked. This didnt go unnoticed, particularly by Juniper, who watched me each day as I obsessed over my reection before I dashed out of the house. Art noticed, too, and then I stopped ustering over myself for a moment to notice it in him. Weve been together for three months. I nally reach the summit and seeing his shape lit by the moon turns me into jelly as usual.

He is always early, always waiting for me, sitting on a blanket, his face a picture of perfect concentration as he gazes out on the sleeping city below. Perfect is a word I use a lot to describe Art or any moment with him. Hello, early bird, I say. He looks up, the sadness replaced with a smile. And do I see relief? Hello, mouse. If youre looking for your cheese, I ate it.

Worms and cheese, I say, sitting beside him on the blanket. We kiss. This is yum, he murmurs, pulling me closer for another, longer, more passionate kiss. I feel there is something different about him tonight. I pull away slowly and study his face, his eyes. How about we make a deal to not talk about any events of tonight? Good idea, I sigh. I have a headache just thinking about it. He kisses my forehead and leaves his lips there. Were both silent, lost in our thoughts, both obviously thinking about the sights and sounds of Angelina Tinder being dragged away.

We cant stay quiet for long. Art pulls away. My dad tonight. He trails off, looking out at the tips of roofs and chimneys, and I see his anguish over what happened tonight.

Ever since his mom passed away, Ive seen it as my role to make him feel better, to get rid of the sadness. And despite mycon icted feelings on this evening, I need to pull it together for him. Look, Juniper should not have spoken to him the way she did, but you know what Juniper is like. She needs to learn how tokeep her trap shut. Shes just like my granddad. Juniper was only saying what she thought, he says to my absolute surprise. She shouldnt be saying these things to him.

He smiles sadly. Everything is so black and white to you, Celestine. Were neighbors; we were in your dining room celebrat I mean, why wouldnt he at least tell her, if not us? Theyre friends. At least she could have been ready and not dragged out like that in front of her family, her kids. Im surprised to hear this from him. Art has never spoken out about his dad.

Theyre buddies, a team, the only two left, a connection made stronger after his mom died. Theyre survivors, or at least thats how they act. The two who came out of her loss alive. I can see he is as confused about all this as I am.

He was following the rules, I say simply, and I know its not good enough. It doesnt feel good enough to me, but its the truth. What happened to Angelina was horrible, but I dont think you can blame your dad for that.

Its his job. A Flawed being taken into custody happens almost every day somewhere in this country. Your dad is under pressure to maintain perfection. What would happen if he turned a blind eye to some and not to others? I ask, airing some of my own thoughts.

I mean, what then? Judge Crevan on trial for being Flawed for missing a Flawed? Art looks at me. I never thought about it like that.

Well, you should. Because hes your dad. And hes power ful. And some people adore him, practically worship him. And that makes it harder for you to have a dad like that, but thats who youve got, and he loves you so much. And hes one half of what made you, and that makes him a genius.

He smiles, takes my face in his hands, makes a disgusted face. I dont really want to think of his part in making me, thank you very much. I laugh. Black and white. All the way. I smile, but my smile feels a bit wobbly, my footing not as sure as it was before.

Convincing Art is easier than convincing myself. Art clears his throat. I wasnt going to do this until your birthday, but after tonight. I think you deserve it now more than ever. He lifts his left leg and moves it beside me, pulling me in closer to him so that I am trapped between his thighs. Suddenly my uncertainty disappears and I am right where I want to be. I got you this for your eighteenth birthday, but I want to give it to you now to let you know that despite everything else going on in the world, you are the one thing that makes sense to me.

You are beautiful. He runs his nger down my cheek, across my nose, over my lips. You are clever, you are loyal. He drops his hand and hands me a small velvet box. My hands are shaking so much Im embarrassed. I open it and lift out the delicate silver chain, so ne Im afraid Ill break it.

On the end is a symbol. And you are perfect, he whispers, and it sends a shiver running through me, and my skin breaks out in goose bumps. I examine the symbol, unable to believe what I see. I had a man at Highland Castle make it for me specially. You know what it means?

I nod. Circles are regarded as a symbol of perfection. All the radii bear a ratio of one to one to each other, showing there are no partial differences between them. They are proved to be in a state of harmony. Geometric harmony. Perfection, he says again, softly. Its hard to get one up on the mathematician, you know.

He laughs. I had to do a lot of research. I think my brain is still sore. I laugh through my growing tears. Thank you. My words come out as a whisper. I attempt to wrap it around my wrist, but he stops me. He takes it from my trembling hands, and he uncrosses my ankles delicately.

He moves back from me and straightens my leg, sliding my jeans up my leg slowly, his ngers warm on my skin. He fastens the chain around my ankle, and then he moves forward again, closer this time, wrapping my legs around him.

He lifts my chin and we are nose-to-nose, the moonlight between us. He tilts his head and kisses me softly, smoothly, sweetly. His lips are succulent, his tongue delicious, and I lift my hands through his hair and get lost in him, in this moment. When I think back to that moment, my heart soars as it did then, and everything is heightened, magical, musical, and mystical, almost too good to be true. I could live that moment forever, his.

It was just us on top of the sleeping world, invincible, untouchable. It was the most perfect moment in my life. It was the last perfect moment in my life. Anklet still there. It was not a dream, not some juicy gment of my imagination that dissolves as soon as I wake. I snuggle down under the covers to relive it in my head and then realize that delaying this morning would delay spending time with Art.

He will be waiting for me, as he always is, at the bus stop, where we will go on to school together. Despite my joy, my sleep was tful, with so much to absorb after the Angelina Tinder scene. I feel unsteady on my feet as I get dressed. Something has been shaken, stirred within me. My feeling of security has been tested, and perhaps my trust, though not with Art, whom I trust more than ever.

Oddly, I think it is with my own self. She gets up a half hour earlier than I do just to get dressed and still ends up being late every morning. Juniper and I are considered identical by most people, but to me we couldnt be further apart. Unless you know us and our personalities, you would struggle to tell us apart.

With a black dad and a white mom, we have inherited Dads skin. We also have Dads brown eyes, his nose, and his hair coloring. We have Moms cheekbones, her long limbs. She tried to get us into modeling when we were younger, and Juniper and I did a few shoots together, but neither of us could stay at it. Me because posing for a camera failed to intellectually stimulate me, Juniper because she was even more awkward and clumsy under peoples gazes. I put on a cream linen dress and baby-pink cashmere cardigan, with gold gladiator sandals that spiral up my legs.

Its hot outside, and I always wear pastel colors. Mom likes to buy pastels for all the family. She thinks that we look more like a unit when were dressed that way. I know of some families who hire stylists to help coordinate not just the clothes but their overall look as a family. None of us wants to look out of place or like we dont belong, though Juniper often likes to do her own thing, wearing something thats not a part of our family color palette.

We let her do just thather loss, though Mom worries that it makes us look fragmented. I think the only person who looks fragmented is Juniper. Hes wearing cream linen trousers and a babypink T-shirt, and I feel happy we match. A good start to the day. Mom is staring at the TV, not moving. Look what I got last night, I sing. No one looks. I circle my ankle in the air, graceful like a ballerina. Ewan nally looks at me, then down at my ankle, which Im dangling near his face.

A bracelet, he says, bored. A bracelet is an ornamental band for the wrist, Ewan. This is an anklet. Whatever, Thesaurus. He rolls his eyes and continues watching TV. Art gave it to me, I sing loudly, oating by Mom to get milk for my cereal from the fridge. Wonderful, sweetheart, she says robotically, as though she hasnt heard at all. I stop and stare at her.

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