Скотт Вестерфельд - Uglies

Shay giggled. "People don't eat wolves, Tally. Rabbits, I think, and deer."

"Oh, gross. Thanks for the image, Shay."

"Yeah, I think I'll stick to vegetables and fish. But it's not about camping out, Tally. It's about becoming what I want to become. Not what some surgical committee thinks I should."

"You're still yourself on the inside, Shay. But when you're pretty, people pay more attention."

"Not everyone thinks that way."

"Are you sure about that? That you can beat evolution by being smart or interesting?

Because if you're wrong…if you don't come back by the time you're twenty, the operation won't work as well. You'll look wrong, forever."

"I'm not coming back. Forever."

Tally's voice caught, but she forced herself to say it: "And I'm not going."

They said good-bye under the dam.

Shay's long-range hoverboard was thicker, and glimmered with the facets of solar cells.

She'd also stashed a heated jacket and hat under the bridge. Tally guessed that winters at the Smoke were cold and miserable.

She couldn't believe her friend was really going.

"You can always come back. If it sucks."

Shay shrugged. "None of my friends has."

The words gave Tally a creepy feeling. She could think of a lot of horrible reasons to explain why no one had come back. "Be careful, Shay."

"You too. You're not going to tell anyone about this, right?"

"Never, Shay."

"You swear? No matter what?"

Tally raised her scarred palm. "I swear."

Shay smiled. "I know. I just had to ask again before I…" She pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Tally.

"What's this?" Tally opened it up and saw a scrawl of letters. "When did you learn to write by hand?"

"We all learned while we were planning to leave. It's a good idea if you don't want minders sniffing your diary. Anyway, that's for you. I'm not supposed to leave any record of where I'm going, so it's in code, kind of."

Tally frowned, reading the first line of slanted words. "'Take the coaster straight past the gap'?"

"Yeah. Get it? Only you could figure it out, in case someone finds it. You know, if you ever want to follow me."

Tally started to say something, but couldn't. She managed to nod.

"Just in case," Shay said.

She jumped onto her board and snapped her fingers, securing her knapsack over both shoulders.

"Good-bye, Tally."

"Bye, Shay. I wish…"

Shay waited, bobbing just a bit in the cool September wind. Tally tried to imagine her growing old, wrinkled, gradually ruined, all without ever having been truly beautiful.

Never learning how to dress properly, or how to act at a formal dance. Never having anyone look into her eyes and be simply overwhelmed.

"I wish I could have seen what you would look like. Pretty, I mean."

"Guess you'll just have to live with remembering my face this way," Shay said.

Then she turned and her hoverboard climbed away toward the river, and Tally's next words were lost on the roar of the water.

When the day came, Tally waited for the car alone.

Tomorrow, when the operation was all over, her parents would be waiting outside the hospital, along with Peris and her other older friends. That was the tradition. But it seemed strange that there was no one to see her off on this end. No one said good-bye except a few uglies passing by. They looked so young to her now, especially the just-arrived new class, who gawked at her like she was an old pile of dinosaur bones.

She'd always loved being independent, but now Tally felt like the last littlie to be picked up from school, abandoned and alone. September was a crappy month to be born.

"You're Tally, right?"

She looked up. It was a new ugly, awkwardly exploding into unfamiliar height, tugging at his dorm uniform like it was already too tight.

"Yeah."

"Aren't you the one who's going to turn today?"

"That's me, Shorty."

"So how come you look so sad?"

Tally shrugged. What could this half-littlie, half-ugly understand, anyway? She thought about what Shay had said about the operation.

Yesterday they'd taken Tally's final measurements, rolling her all the way through an imaging tube.

Should she tell this new ugly that sometime this afternoon, her body was going to be opened up, the bones ground down to the right shape, some of them stretched or padded, her nose cartilage and cheekbones stripped out and replaced with programmable plastic, skin sanded off and reseeded like a soccer field in spring? That her eyes would be laser-cut for a lifetime of perfect vision, reflective implants inserted under the iris to add sparkling gold flecks to their indifferent brown? Her muscles all trimmed up with a night of electrocize and all her baby fat sucked out for good? Teeth replaced with ceramics as strong as a suborbital aircraft wing, and as white as the dorm's good china?

They said it didn't hurt, except the new skin, which felt like a killer sunburn for a couple of weeks.

As the details of the operation buzzed around in her head, she could imagine why Shay had run away. It did seem like a lot to go through just to look a certain way. If only people were smarter, evolved enough to treat everyone the same even if they looked different. Looked ugly.

If only Tally had come up with the right argument to make her stay.

The imaginary conversations were back, but much worse than they had been after Peris had left. A thousand times she'd fought with Shay in her head-long, rambling discussions about beauty, biology, growing up. All those times out in the ruins, Shay had made her points about uglies and pretties, the city and the outside, what was fake and what was real.

But Tally had never once realized her friend might actually run away, giving up a life of beauty, glamour, elegance. If only she'd said the right thing. Any thing.

Sitting here, she felt as if she'd hardly tried.

Tally looked the new ugly in the eye. "Because it all comes down to this: Two weeks of killer sunburn is worth a lifetime of being gorgeous."

The kid scratched his head. "Huh?"

"Something I should have said, and didn't. That's all."

The hospital hovercar finally came, settling onto the school grounds so lightly that it hardly disturbed the fresh-mown grass.

The driver was a middle pretty, radiating confidence and authority. He looked so much like Sol that Tally almost called her father's name.

"Tally Youngblood?" he said.

Tally had already seen the flash of light that had read her eye-print, but she said, "Yes, that's me," anyway. Something about the middle pretty made it hard to be flippant. He was wisdom personified, his manner so serious and formal that Tally found herself wishing she had dressed up.

"Are you ready? Not taking much."

Her duffel bag was only half-full. Everyone knew that new pretties wound up recycling most of the stuff they brought over the river, anyway. She'd have all new clothes, of course, and all the new pretty toys she wanted. All she'd really kept was Shay's handwritten note, hidden among a bunch of random crap.

"Got enough."

"Good for you, Tally. That's very mature."

"That's me, sir."

The door closed, and the car took off.

The big hospital was on the bottom end of New Pretty Town. It was where everyone went for serious operations: littlies, uglies, even late pretties from way out in Crumblyville coming in for life-extension treatments.

The river was sparkling under a cloudless sky, and Tally allowed herself to be swept away by the beauty of New Pretty Town. Even without the nighttime lights and fireworks, the city's surfaces shone with glass and metal, the unlikely spindles of party towers casting thin shadows across the island. It was so much more vibrant than the Rusty Ruins, Tally suddenly saw. Not as dark and mysterious, perhaps, but more alive.