Uglies (18 page)

They descended the ridge on the far side, down a steep, narrow path. David led her quickly in the darkness, finding footing on the almost invisible trail without hesitation. It was all Tally could do to keep up.

The whole day had been one shock after another, and now to top it all off she was going to meet David’s parents. That was the last thing she’d expected after showing him her pendant and telling him she hadn’t kept the Smoke a secret. His reactions were different from those of anyone she’d ever met before. Maybe it was because he’d grown up out here, away from the customs of the city. Or maybe he was just…different.

They left the familiar ridge line far behind, and the mountain rose steeply to one side.

“Your parents don’t live in the Smoke?”

“No. It’s too dangerous.”

“Dangerous how?”

“It’s part of what I was telling you your first day here, in the railroad cave.”

“About your secret? How you were raised in the wild?”

David stopped for a moment, turning back to face her in the darkness. “There’s more to it than that.”

“What?”

“I’ll let them tell you. Come on.”

A few minutes later, a small square filled with faint light appeared, hovering in the darkness of the mountainside. Tally saw that it was a window, a light inside glowing deep red through a closed curtain.

The house seemed half buried, as if it had been wedged into the mountain.

When they were still a stone’s throw away, David stopped. “Don’t want to surprise them. They can be jumpy,” he said, then shouted, “Hello!”

A moment later a doorway opened, letting out a shaft of light.

“David?” a woman’s voice called. The door opened wider until the light spilled across them. “Az, it’s David.”

As they drew closer, Tally saw that she was an old ugly. Tally couldn’t tell if she was younger or older than the Boss, but she certainly wasn’t as terrifying to look at. Her eyes flashed liked a pretty’s, and the lines of her face disappeared into a welcoming smile as she gathered her son into a hug.

“Hi, Mom.”

“And you must be Tally.”

“Nice to meet you.” She wondered if she should shake hands or something. In the city, you never spent much time with other uglies’ parents, except when you hung out at friends’ houses during school breaks.

The house was much warmer than the bunkhouse, and the timber floors weren’t nearly as rough, as if David’s parents had lived there so long, their feet had worn them smooth. The house somehow felt more solid than any building in the Smoke. It was really cut into the mountain, she saw now. One of the walls was exposed stone, glistening with some kind of transparent sealant.

“Nice to meet you, too, Tally,” David’s mother said. Tally wondered what her name was. David always referred to them as “Mom” and “Dad,” words Tally hadn’t used for Sol and Ellie since she was a littlie.

A man appeared, shaking David’s hand before turning to her. “Good to meet you, Tally.”

She blinked, her breath catching, for a moment unable to speak. David and his father somehow looked…alike.

It didn’t make any sense. There had to be more than thirty years between them, if his father really had been a doctor when David was born. But their jaws, foreheads, even their slightly lopsided smiles were all so similar.

“Tally?” David said.

“Sorry. You just…you look the same!”

David’s parents burst into laughter, and Tally felt her face turning red.

“We get that a lot,” his father said. “You city kids always find it a shock. But you know about genetics, don’t you?”

“Sure. I know all about genes. I knew two sisters, uglies, who looked almost the same. But parents and children? That’s just weird.”

David’s mother forced a serious expression onto her face, but the smile stayed in her eyes. “The features that we take from our parents are the things that make us different. A big nose, thin lips, high forehead—all the things that the operation takes away.”

“The preference toward the mean,” his dad said.

Tally nodded, remembering school lessons. The overall average of human facial characteristics was the primary template for the operation. “Sure. Average-looking features are one of the things people look for in a face.”

“But families pass on no average looks. Like our big noses.” The man tweaked his son’s nose, and David rolled his eyes. Tally realized that David’s nose was much bigger than any pretty’s. Why hadn’t she noticed that before now?

“That’s one of the things you give up, when you become pretty. The family nose,” his mother said. “Az? Why don’t you turn up the heat.”

Tally realized that she was still shivering, but not from the cold outside. This was all so weird. She couldn’t get over the similarity between David and his father. “That’s okay. It’s lovely in here, uh…”

“Maddy,” the woman said. “Shall we all sit down?”

Az and Maddy apparently had been expecting them. In the front room of the house, four antique cups were set out on little saucers. Soon a kettle began to whistle softly on an electric heater, and Az poured the boiling water into an antique pot, releasing a floral scent into the room.

Tally looked around her. The house was unlike any other in the Smoke. It was like a standard crumbly home, filled with impractical objects. A marble statuette stood in one corner, and rich rugs had been hung on the walls, lending their colors to the light in the room, softening the edges of everything.

Maddy and Az must have brought a lot of things from the city when they ran away. And, unlike uglies, who had only their dorm uniforms and other disposable possessions, the two had actually spent half a lifetime collecting things before escaping the city.

Tally remembered growing up surrounded by Sol’s woodwork, abstract shapes fashioned from fallen branches she would collect from parks as a littlie. Maybe David’s childhood hadn’t been completely different from her own. “This all looks so familiar,” she said.

“David hasn’t told you?” Maddy said. “Az and I come from the same city as you. If we’d stayed, we might have been the ones to turn you pretty.”

“Oh, I guess so,” Tally murmured. If they’d stayed in the city, there would have been no Smoke, and Shay never would have run away.

“David says that you made it all the way here on your own,” Maddy said.

She nodded. “I was following a friend of mine. She left me directions.”

“And you decided to come alone? Couldn’t you wait for David to come around again?”

“There wasn’t time to wait,” David explained. “She left the night before her sixteenth birthday.”

“That’s leaving things until the last minute,” Az said.

“But very dramatic,” Maddy said approvingly.

“Actually, I didn’t have much choice. I hadn’t even heard of the Smoke until Shay, my friend, told me she was leaving. That was about a week before my birthday.”

“Shay? I don’t believe we’ve met her,” Az said.

Tally looked at David, who shrugged. He had never brought Shay here? She wondered for a moment what had really gone on between David and Shay.

“You certainly made up your mind quickly, then,” Maddy said.

Tally brought her mind back to the present. “I had to. I only had one chance.”

“Spoken like a true Smokey,” Az said, pouring a dark liquid from the kettle into the cups. “Tea?”

“Uh, please.” Tally accepted a saucer and felt the scalding heat through the thin, white material of the cup. Realizing that this was one of those Smokey concoctions that burned your tongue, she sipped carefully. Her face twisted at the bitter taste. “Ah. I mean…sorry. I’ve never had tea before, actually.”

Az’s eyes widened. “Really? But it was very popular back when we lived there.”

“I’ve heard of it. But it’s more of a crumbly drink. Um, I mean, mostly only late pretties drink it.” Tally

willed herself not to blush.

Maddy laughed. “Well, we’re pretty crumbly, so I guess it’s okay for us.”

“Speak for yourself, my dear.”

“Try this,” David said. He dropped a white cube into Tally’s tea. The next time she drank, a sweetness had spread through it, cutting the bitterness. It was possible to sip the stuff now without grimacing.

“David’s told you a little about us, I suppose,” Maddy said.

“Well, he said you ran away a long time ago. Before he was born.”

“Oh, did he?” Az said. The expression on his face was exactly like David’s when a member of the railroad crew did something thoughtless and dangerous with a vibrasaw.

“I didn’t tell her everything, Dad,” David said. “Just that I grew up in the wild.”

“You left the rest to us?” Az said a bit stiffly. “Very good of you.”

David held his father’s gaze. “Tally came here to make sure her friend was okay. All the way here alone. But she might not want to stay.”

“We don’t force anyone to live here,” Maddy said.

“That’s not what I mean,” David said. “I think she should know, before she decides about going back to the city.”

Tally looked from David to his parents, quietly amazed. The way they communicated was so strange, not like uglies and crumblies at all. It was more like uglies arguing. Like equals.

“I should know what?” she asked softly.

They all looked at her, Maddy and Az measuring her with their eyes.

“The big secret,” Az said, “the one that made us run away almost twenty years ago.”

“One we usually keep to ourselves,” Maddy said evenly, her eyes on David.

“Tally deserves to know,” David said, his eyes locked with his mother’s. “She’ll understand how important it is.”

“She’s a kid. A city kid.”

“She made it here alone, with only a bunch of gibberish directions to guide her.”

Maddy scowled. “You’ve never even been to a city, David. You have no idea how coddled they are.

They spend their whole lives in a bubble.”

“She survived alone for nine days, Mom. Made it through a brush fire.”

“Please, you two,” Az interjected. “She is sitting right here. Aren’t you, Tally?”

“Yeah, I am,” Tally said quietly. “And I wish you’d tell me what you’re talking about.”

“I’m sorry, Tally,” Maddy said. “But this secret is very important. And very dangerous.”

Tally nodded her head, looking down at the floor. “Everything out here is dangerous.”

They were all silent for a moment. All Tally heard was the tinkle of Az stirring his tea.

“See?” David said finally. “She understands. You can trust her. She deserves to know the truth.”

“Everyone does,” Maddy said quietly. “Eventually.”

“Well,” Az said, then paused to sip his tea. “I suppose we’ll have to tell you, Tally.”

“Tell me what ?”

David took a deep breath. “The truth about being pretty.”

“We were doctors,” Az began.

“Cosmetic surgeons, to be precise,” Maddy said. “We’ve both performed the operation hundreds of times. And when we met, I had just been named to the Committee for Morphological Standards.”

Tally’s eyes widened. “The Pretty Committee?”

Maddy smiled at the nickname. “We were preparing for a Morphological Congress. That’s when all the cities share data on the operation.”

Tally nodded. Cities worked very hard to stay independent of one another, but the Pretty Committee was a global institution that made sure pretties were all more or less the same. It would ruin the whole point of the operation if the people from one city wound up prettier than everyone else.

Like most uglies, Tally had often indulged the fantasy that one day she might be on the Committee, and help decide what the next generation would look like. In school, of course, they always managed to make it sound really boring, all graphs and averages and measuring people’s pupils when they looked at different faces.

“At the same time, I was doing some independent research on anesthesia,” Az said. “Trying to make the operation safer.”

“Safer?” Tally asked.

“A few people still die each year, as with any surgery,” he said.

“From being unconscious so long, more than anything else.”

Tally bit her lip. She’d never heard that. “Oh.”

“I found that there were complications from the anesthetic used in the operation. Tiny lesions in the brain.

Barely visible, even with the best machines.”

Tally decided to risk sounding stupid. “What’s a lesion?”

“Basically it’s a bunch of cells that don’t look right,” Az said.

“Like a wound, or a cancer, or just something that doesn’t belong there.”

“But you couldn’t just say that,” David said. He rolled his eyes toward Tally. “Doctors.”

Maddy ignored her son. “When Az showed me his results, I started investigating. The local committee had millions of scans in its database. Not the stuff they put in medical textbooks, but raw data from pretties all over the world. The lesions turned up everywhere.”

Tally frowned. “You mean, people were sick?”

“They didn’t seem to be. And the lesions weren’t cancerous, because they didn’t spread. Almost everyone had them, and they were always in exactly the same place.” She pointed to a spot on the top of her head.

“A bit to the left, dear,” Az said, dropping a white cube into his tea.

Maddy obliged him, then continued. “Most importantly, almost everyone all over the world had these lesions. If they were a health hazard, ninety-nine percent of the population would show some kind of symptoms.”

“But they weren’t natural?” Tally asked.

“No. Only post-ops—pretties, I mean—had them,” Az said. “No uglies did. They were definitely a result of the operation.”

Tally shifted in her chair. The thought of a weird little mystery in everyone’s brain made her queasy. “Did you find out what caused them?”

Maddy sighed. “In one sense, we did. Az and I looked very closely at all the negatives—that is, the few pretties who didn’t have the lesions—and tried to figure out why they were different. What made them immune to the lesions? We ruled out blood type, gender, physical size, intelligence factors, genetic markers—nothing seemed to account for the negatives. They weren’t any different from everyone else.”

“Until we discovered an odd coincidence,” Az said.

“Their jobs,” Maddy said.

“Jobs?”

“Every negative worked in the same sort of profession,” Az said.

“Firefighters, wardens, doctors, politicians, and anyone who worked for Special Circumstances. Everyone with those jobs didn’t have the lesions; all the other pretties did.”

“So you guys were okay?”

Az nodded. “We tested ourselves, and we were negative.”

“Otherwise, we wouldn’t be sitting here,” Maddy said quietly.

“What do you mean?”

David spoke up. “The lesions aren’t an accident, Tally. They’re part of the operation, just like all the bone sculpting and skin scraping. It’s part of the way being pretty changes you.”

“But you said not everyone has them.”

Maddy nodded. “In some pretties, they disappear, or are intentionally cured—in those whose professions require them to react quickly, like working in an emergency room, or putting out a fire. Those who deal with conflict and danger.”

“People who face challenges,” David said.

Tally let out a slow breath, remembering her trip to the Smoke. “What about rangers?”

Az nodded. “I believe I had a few rangers in my database. All negatives.”

Tally remembered the look on the faces of the rangers who had saved her. They had an unfamiliar confidence and surety, like David’s, completely different from the new pretties she and Peris had always made fun of.

Peris…

Tally swallowed, tasting something more bitter than tea in the back of her throat. She tried to remember how Peris had acted when she’d crashed the Garbo Mansion party. She’d been so ashamed of her own face, it was hard to remember anything specific about Peris. He’d looked so different and, if anything, he seemed older, more mature.

But in some way, they hadn’t connected…it was as if he’d become a different person. Was it only because since his operation they had lived in different worlds? Or had it been something more?

She tried to imagine Peris coping out here in the Smoke, working with his hands and making his own clothes. The old, ugly Peris would have enjoyed the challenge. But what about pretty Peris?

Her head felt light, as if the house were in an elevator heading swiftly downward.

“What do the lesions do?” she asked.

“We don’t know exactly,” Az said.

“But we’ve got some pretty good ideas,” David said.

“Just suspicions,” Maddy said. Az looked uncomfortably down into his tea.

“You were suspicious enough to run away,” Tally said.

“We had no choice,” Maddy said. “Not long after our discovery, Special Circumstances paid a visit. They took our data and told us not to look any further or we’d lose our licenses. It was either run away, or forget everything we’d found.”

“And it wasn’t something we could forget,” Az said.

Tally turned to David. He sat beside his mother, grim-faced, his cup of tea untouched before him. His parents were still reluctant to say everything they suspected. But she could tell that David saw no need for caution. “What do you think?” she asked him.

“Well, you know all about how the Rusties lived, right?” he said. “War and crime and all that?”

“Of course. They were crazy. They almost destroyed the world.”

“And that convinced people to pull the cities back from the wild, to leave nature alone,” David recited.

“And now everybody is happy, because everyone looks the same: They’re all pretty. No more Rusties, no more war. Right?”

“Yeah. In school, they say it’s all really complicated, but that’s basically the story.”

He smiled grimly. “Maybe it’s not so complicated. Maybe the reason war and all that other stuff went away is that there are no more controversies, no disagreements, no people demanding change. Just masses of smiling pretties, and a few people left to run things.”

Tally remembered crossing the river to New Pretty Town, watching them have their endless fun. She and Peris used to boast they’d never wind up so idiotic, so shallow. But when she’d seen him…“Becoming pretty doesn’t just change the way you look,” she said.

“No,” David said. “It changes the way you think.”