Uglies (19 page)

They stayed up late into the night, talking with Az and Maddy about their discoveries, their escape into the wild, and the founding of the Smoke. Finally, Tally had to ask the question that had been on her mind since she’d first seen them.

“So how did you two change yourselves back? I mean, you were pretty, and now you’re…”

“Ugly?” Az smiled. “That part was simple. We’re experts in the physical part of the operation. When surgeons sculpt a pretty face, we use a special kind of smart plastic to shape the bones. When we change new pretties to middle or late, we add a trigger chemical to that plastic, and it becomes softer, like clay.”

“Eww,” Tally said, imagining her face suddenly softening so she could squish it around to a different shape.

“With daily doses of this trigger chemical, the plastic will gradually melt away and be absorbed into the body. Your face goes back to where it started. More or less.”

Tally’s eyebrows rose. “More or less?”

“We can only approximate the places where bone was shaved away. And we can’t make big changes, like someone’s height, without surgery. Maddy and I have all the non-cosmetic benefits of the operation: impervious teeth, perfect vision, disease resistance. But we look pretty close to the way we would have without the operation. As far as the fat that was sucked out”—he patted his stomach—“that proves very easy to replace.”

“But why ? Why would you want to be ugly? You were doctors, so there was nothing wrong with your brains, right?”

“Our minds are fine,” Maddy answered. “But we wanted to start a community of people who didn’t have the lesions, people who were free of pretty thinking. It was the only way to see what difference the lesions really made. That meant we had to gather a group of uglies. Young people, recruited from the cities.”

Tally nodded. “So you had to become ugly too. Otherwise, who’d trust you?”

“We refined the trigger chemical, created a once-a-day pill. Over a few months, our old faces came back.” Maddy looked at her husband with a twinkle in her eye. “It was a fascinating process, actually.”

“It must have been,” Tally said. “What about the lesions? Can you create a pill that cures them?”

They were both silent for a moment, then Maddy shook her head. “We didn’t find any answers before Special Circumstances showed up. Az and I are not brain specialists. We’ve worked on the question for twenty years without success. But here in the Smoke we’ve seen the difference that staying ugly makes.”

“I’ve seen that myself,” Tally said, thinking of the differences between Peris and David.

Az raised an eyebrow. “You catch on pretty fast, then.”

“But we know there’s a cure,” David said.

“How?”

“There has to be,” Maddy said. “Our data showed that everyone has the lesions after their first operation. So when someone winds up in a challenging line of work, the authorities somehow cure them.

The lesions are removed secretly, maybe even fixed with a pill like the bone plastic, and the brain returns to normal. There must be a simple cure.”

“You’ll find it one day,” David said quietly.

“We don’t have the right equipment,” Maddy said, sighing. “We don’t even have a pretty human subject to study.”

“But hang on,” Tally said. “You used to live in a city full of pretties. When you became doctors, your lesions went away. Didn’t you notice that you were changing?”

Maddy shrugged. “Of course we did. We were learning how the human body worked, and how to face the huge responsibility of saving lives. But it didn’t feel as if our brains were changing. It felt like growing up.”

“Oh. But when you looked around at everyone else, how come you didn’t notice they were…brain damaged?”

Az smiled. “We didn’t have much to compare our fellow citizens with, only a few colleagues who seemed different from most people. More engaged. But that was hardly a surprise. History would indicate that the majority of people have always been sheep. Before the operation, there were wars and mass hatred and clear-cutting. Whatever these lesions make us, it isn’t a far cry from the way humanity was in the Rusty era. These days we’re just a bit…easier to manage.”

“Having the lesions is normal now,” Maddy said. “We’re all used to the effects.”

Tally took a deep breath, remembering Sol and Ellie’s visit. Her parents had been so sure of themselves, and yet in a way so clueless. But they’d always seemed that way: wise and confident, and at the same time disconnected from whatever ugly, real-life problems Tally was having. Was that pretty brain damage? Tally had always thought that was just how parents were supposed to be.

For that matter, shallow and self-centered was how brand-new pretties were supposed to be. As an ugly Peris had made fun of them—but he hadn’t waited a moment to join in the fun. No one ever did. So how could you tell how much was the operation and how much was just people going along with the way things had always been?

Only by making a whole new world, which is just what Maddy and Az had begun to do.

Tally wondered which had come first: the operation or the lesions? Was becoming pretty just the bait to get everyone under the knife? Or were the lesions merely a finishing touch on being pretty? Perhaps the logical conclusion of everyone looking the same was everyone thinking the same.

She leaned back in her chair. Her eyes were blurry, and her stomach clenched whenever she thought about Peris, her parents, and every other pretty she’d ever met. How different were they? she wondered.

How did it feel to be pretty? What was it really like behind those big eyes and exquisite features?

“You look tired,” David said.

She laughed softly. It seemed like weeks since she and David had arrived there. A few hours of conversation had changed her world. “Maybe a little.”

“I guess we’d better go, Mom.”

“Of course, David. It’s late, and Tally has a lot to digest.”

Maddy and Az stood, and David helped Tally up from the chair. She said good-bye to them in a daze, flinching inside when she recognized the expression in their old and ugly faces: They felt sorry for her. Sad that she’d had to learn the truth, sad that they’d been the ones to tell her. After twenty years, maybe they’d gotten used to the idea, but they still understood that it was a horrible fact to learn.

Ninety-nine percent of humanity had had something done to their brains, and only a few people in the world knew exactly what.

“You see why I wanted you to meet my parents?”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

Tally and David were in the darkness, climbing the ridge back toward the Smoke, the sky full of stars now that the moon had set.

“You might have gone back to the city not knowing.”

Tally shivered, realizing how close she had come so many times. In the library, she’d actually opened the pendant, almost holding it to her eye. And if she had, the Specials would have arrived within hours.

“I couldn’t stand that,” David said.

“But some uglies must go back, right?”

“Sure. They get bored with camping out, and we can’t make them stay.”

“You let them go? When they don’t even know what the operation really means?”

David stopped and took hold of Tally’s shoulder, anguish on his face. “Neither do we. And what if we told everyone what we suspect? Most of them wouldn’t believe us, but others would go charging back to the city to rescue their friends. And eventually, the cities would find out what we were saying, and would do everything in their power to hunt us down.”

They already are, Tally said to herself. She wondered how many other spies the Specials had blackmailed into looking for the Smoke, how many times they’d come close to finding it. She wanted to tell David what they were up to, but how? She couldn’t explain that she had come here as a spy, or David would never trust her again.

She sighed. That would be the perfect way to stop herself from coming between him and Shay.

“You don’t look very happy.”

Tally tried to smile. David had shared his biggest secret with her; she should tell him hers. But she wasn’t brave enough to say the words. “It’s been a long night. That’s all.”

He smiled back. “Don’t worry, it won’t last forever.”

Tally wondered how long it was until dawn. In a few hours she’d be eating breakfast alongside Shay and Croy, and everyone else she had almost betrayed, almost condemned to the operation. She flinched at the thought.

“Hey,” David said, lifting her chin with his palm. “You did great tonight. I think my parents were impressed.”

“Huh? With me?”

“Of course, Tally. You understood immediately what this all means. Most people can’t believe it at first.

They say the authorities would never be so cruel.”

She smiled grimly. “Don’t worry, I believe it.”

“Exactly. I’ve seen a lot of city kids come through here. You’re different from the rest of them. You can see the world clearly, even if you did grow up spoiled. That’s why I had to tell you. That’s why…”

Tally looked into his eyes and saw that his face was glowing again—touching her in that pretty way she’d felt before.

“That’s why you’re beautiful, Tally.”

The words made her dizzy for a moment, like the falling feeling of looking into a new pretty’s eyes.

“Me?”

“Yes.”

She laughed, shaking her head clear. “What, with my thin lips and my eyes too close together?”

“Tally…”

“And my frizzy hair and squashed-down nose?”

“Don’t say that.” His fingers brushed her cheeks where the scratches were almost healed, and ran fleetingly across her lips. She knew how callused his fingertips were, as hard and rough as wood. But somehow their caress felt soft and tentative.

“That’s the worst thing they do to you, to any of you. Whatever those brain lesions are all about, the worst damage is done before they even pick up the knife: You’re all brainwashed into believing you’re ugly.”

“We are. Everyone is.”

“So you think I’m ugly?”

She looked away. “It’s a pointless question. It’s not about individuals.”

“Yes it is, Tally. Absolutely.”

“I mean, no one can really be…you see, biologically, there’re certain things we all—” The words choked off. “You really think I’m beautiful?”

“Yes.”

“More beautiful than Shay?”

They both stood silent, their mouths gaping. The question had popped out of Tally before she could think. How had she uttered something so horrible?

“I’m sorry.”

David shrugged, turned away. “It’s a fair question. Yes, I do.”

“Do what?”

“I think you’re more beautiful than Shay.” He said it so matter-of-factly, as if talking about the weather.

Tally’s eyes closed, every bit of exhaustion from the long day crashing into her at once. She saw Shay’s face—too thin, eyes too far apart—and an awful feeling welled up inside her. The warmth she’d felt from David was crushed by it.

Every day of her life she’d insulted other uglies and had been insulted in return. Fattie, Pig-Eyes, Boney, Zits, Freak—all the names uglies called one another, eagerly and without reserve. But equally, without exception, so that no one felt shut out by some irrelevant mischance of birth. And no one was considered to be even remotely beautiful, privileged because of a random twist in their genes. That was why they’d made everyone pretty in the first place.

This was not fair.

“Don’t say that. Please.”

“You asked me.”

She opened her eyes. “But it’s horrible! It’s wrong.”

“Listen, Tally. That’s not what’s important to me. What’s inside you matters a lot more.”

“But first you see my face. You react to symmetry, skin tone, the shape of my eyes. And you decide what’s inside me, based on all your reactions. You’re programmed to!”

“I’m not programmed. I didn’t grow up in a city.”

“It’s not just culture, it’s evolution!”

He shrugged in defeat, the anger draining from his voice. “Maybe some of it is.” He chuckled tiredly.

“But you know what first got me interested in you?”

Tally took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “What?”

“The scratches on your face.”

She blinked. “The what ?”

“These scratches.” He softly touched her cheek again.

She shook away the electric feeling his fingers left behind. “That’s nuts. Imperfect skin is a sign of a poor immune system.”

David laughed. “It was a sign that you’d been in an adventure, Tally, that you’d bashed your way across the wild to get here. To me, it was a sign that you had a good story to tell.”

Her outrage faded. “A good story?” Tally shook her head, a laugh building inside her. “Actually, my face got scratched up back in the city, hoverboarding through some trees. At high speed. Some adventure, huh?”

“It does tell a story, though. As I thought the first time I saw you—you take risks.” His fingers wound into a lock of her singed hair. “You’re still taking risks.”