Нил Шустерман - Duckling Ugly

"Twenty miles," he said. "But it feels like a lot more because it's almost all mountains. As you get closer, you'll see the monastery on top of a hill, but whatever you do, don't go near it, because the monks won't know you're one of us if they see you. It's their duty to make sure no one from the outside ever finds us, and they take their job very seriously, if you know what I mean."

I nodded. These so-called monks sounded more like ninjas, but I kept my opinion to myself.

"Turn west at your first glimpse of the monastery," Aaron continued. "There's no path after that, but if you follow the set­ting sun, you'll come to De León. Good luck."

He hugged me tightly, like he had changed his mind and wasn't going to let me get into the sack.

"I'll be back before you know it. I promise."

"I don't think I'll sleep until you are."

I gave him a kiss that wasn't long enough for either of us, then I stepped into the fur-lined bag. Aaron covered me with trash, just in case the monks looked inside, then he tied the sack closed.

Only after I was tied into the bag and I couldn't see him did I hear him say: "I love you, Cara."

And then he was gone.

After he left, I sat there for hours, waiting for the monks to ar­rive, afraid to move the slightest bit in case they might be close enough to see. As I waited, I kept playing in my mind the last thing Harmony had said to me before she had hugged me good­bye and hurried off to Abuelo's that morning.

"Do not linger in the outside world," she had warned me. "Say your final good-byes quickly, and come home to us."

"What will happen if I stay too long?" I had asked. "Will I turn ugly again?"

"I don't know," Harmony had answered. "But I do know there are worse things than being ugly."

Traveling as garbage was not a highlight of my life, but some­times you do what you have to do. The monks never knew I was there. I suppose I wasn't much heavier than what they were used to hauling. The fur around me kept me warm, but not warm enough. I shivered most of the way, and wondered if I would die of hypothermia and end up as part of the garbage after all. Trashes-to-ashes, I thought. It almost made me giggle, which, under the circumstances, would have been disastrous. The jour­ney took a day and a half, and although they rested, I barely slept. I was hungry and, even more, thirsty. It was unbearable. Finally, toward the end of the second day, my bag was hurled into a hard, rough place, where I landed with a bruising crunch.

I let the pain peak, then fade, clenching my teeth so that I didn't make a sound. Then, when I was sure they were gone, I pulled myself out of the bag.

I was in a Dumpster. I stood up to get my bearings. I was out behind a gas station, and it was after dark. It was chilly, but nowhere near as cold as it had been in the higher altitudes as we crossed the mountains.

I climbed out and walked around to the front of the station, trying to stretch my cramped arms and legs. The second the gas-station attendant saw me, he swaggered over to me.

"Hey, little lady," he said. He was just a couple of years older than me, nineteen at the most. "What can I do you for?"

He was all goggly-eyed, and it took me a moment to realize he didn't see the Flock's Rest Monster when he looked at me. He saw someone beautiful. It amazed me that he didn't seem to no­tice I was covered in garbage.

"Which way to Flock's Rest?" I asked.

"No easy way to get there from here," he said. "That's clear over the mountains. The nearest road that crosses over is twenty-five miles away."

So the monks had taken me in the other direction. Well, that was just a minor inconvenience. I could still get there, and make it back, in time.

He smiled at me, showing me a cracked tooth, and tried to act all charming. "I get off in a couple of hours. I could give you a ride if you like. I know where it is; I was just there 'bout a month ago."

Something told me it wouldn't be a good idea. "No thanks," I told him, and he seemed a little hurt.

"Hey, I understand," he said. "A pretty girl like you―why would you take a ride from a guy like me? Right? 'Cept, of course, I got a really good car. Tiger-skin seats." He winked at me, and I rolled my eyes. Is this what pretty girls had to put up with all the time? "Runs like a dream," he said. "Just got it last month down at DeFido's. That's how come I know Flock's Rest."

I laughed at that. "If you got your car at DeFido's, then you got ripped off," I told him. "Trust me, I know. He's my father."

Suddenly he started snapping his fingers like something was wrong with him. "You―you―you're that missing DeFido girl. Holy Mother of―no friggin' way! I gots to call the cops, that's what I gots to do."

"No," I said. "No, don't!"

But he wasn't listening. "Oh yeah, they got a reward out for you."

"My parents offered a reward?"

I was actually impressed, until he said, "Five hundred dollars. Get myself some spinners for my car."

Five hundred bucks , I thought. Is that what I was worth to them? I knew people who offered higher rewards for their lost cats.

He ran into the gas-station office, and I ran after him. "No, stop," I said. He was already picking up the phone, but then he stopped when he looked at the "Missing" poster taped right there on his window. It didn't have a picture of me, because there were no pictures. Instead there was a police sketch. It was ugly, it was awful. It was me. Or at least the old me.

"Hey, hold on. This ain't you."

He looked to the poster, then to me, then to the poster again.

"No, you're right," I said, thinking quickly. "That's my sister. My sister's the one who's missing. Not me."

He looked at me, the expression on his face souring. "I guess there's no reward for you, is there?"

I shook my head. "No. Sorry." And I hurried out before he could offer me a ride again.

Five days, I thought as I walked down the road, and two already gone. Not much I could accomplish in what little time I had. But I didn't need to accomplish anything, did I? All I had to do was have a nice long sit-down with Mom and Dad. Maybe pack a bag of what few things I cared about, and leave forever. If I had time, maybe I'd go out to Vista View, find Miss Leticia's grave, and pay my respects.

The gas station was on a lonely road, with only a few homes nearby. I changed out of my garbage-covered clothes in someone's toolshed, took a long drink from the yard hose, then hosed myself off with its freezing water, and took some clothes that were hang­ing out to dry in the backyard. Then I started walking.

About five miles down the road, my feet were hurting some­thing awful, and although a number of folks stopped to offer me a ride, I didn't take them up on it―mainly because they were all guys of varying ages, with their tongues practically hanging out like wolves when they looked at me. That wasn't the kind of at­tention I wanted from strangers, and I wasn't foolish enough to get into a car with any of them. It was a different world for me now. I had to get used to that.

Finally, a family in a minivan pulled up next to me.

"Honey, are you all right?" the woman asked, leaning out of the passenger-side window. "You know, it's dangerous to be on the road like this after dark. You might get hit by a car. Would you like a ride somewhere?"

This was a ride I felt safe taking, so I smiled, thanked them, and hopped in.

I sat in the back with the kids. A little boy no older than six, sucking on some sticky candy that made his lips blue, smiled at me. "You're pretty," he said.