That night at dinner, she ate alone.
Now that she’d spent a day cutting trees herself, thewooden table in the dining hall no longer horrified her. Thegrain of the wood felt reassuringly solid, and tracing itswhorls with her eyes was easier than thinking.
For the first time, Tally noticed the sameness of thefood. Bread again, stew again. A couple of days ago, Shayhad explained that the plump meat in the stew was rabbit.
Not soy-based, like the dehydrated meat in her SpagBol,but real animals from the overcrowded pen on the edge ofthe Smoke. The thought of rabbits being killed, skinned,and cooked suited her mood. Like the rest of her day, thismeal tasted brutal and serious.
Shay hadn’t talked to her after lunch, and Tally had noidea what to say to Croy, so she’d worked the rest of the dayin silence. Dr. Cable’s pendant seemed to grow heavier andheavier, wound around her neck as tightly as the vines,brush, and roots grasping the railroad tracks. It felt as ifeveryone in the Smoke could see what the necklace reallywas: a symbol of her treachery.
Tally wondered if she could ever stay there now. Croysuspected what she was, and it seemed like it would be onlya matter of time before everyone else knew. All day long aterrible thought had kept crossing her mind: Maybe theSmoke was where she really belonged, but she’d lost herchance by going there as a spy.
And now Tally had come between David and Shay.
Without even trying, she’d shafted her best friend. Likewalking poison, she killed everything.
She thought of the orchids spreading across the plainsbelow, choking the life out of other plants, out of the soilitself, selfish and unstoppable. Tally Youngblood was aweed. And, unlike the orchids, she wasn’t even a pretty one.
Just as she finished eating, David sat down across fromher. “Hey.”
“Hi.” She managed to smile. Despite everything, it wasa relief to see him. Eating alone had reminded her of thedays after her birthday, trapped as an ugly when everyoneknew she should be pretty. Today was the first time she’dfelt like an ugly since coming to the Smoke.
David reached across and took her hand. “Tally, I’msorry.”
“You’re sorry?”
He turned her palm up to reveal her freshly blisteredfingers.
244 Scott Westerfeld“I noticed you didn’t wear the gloves. Not after you hadlunch with Shay. It wasn’t hard to guess why.”
“Oh, yeah. It’s not that I didn’t like them. I just couldn’t.”
“Sure, I know. This is all my fault.” He looked aroundthe crowded hall. “Can we get out of here? I’ve got somethingto tell you.”
Tally nodded, feeling the cold pendant against her neckand remembering her promise to Shay. “Yeah. I’ve gotsomething to tell you, too.”
They walked through the Smoke, past cook fires beingextinguished with shovelfuls of dirt; windows coming alightwith candles and electric bulbs; and a handful of younguglies pursuing an escaped chicken. They climbed the ridgefrom which Tally had first looked down on the settlement,and David led her along it to a cool, flat outcrop of stonewhere a view opened up between the trees. As always, Tallynoticed how graceful David was, how he seemed to knowevery step of the path intimately. Not even pretties, whosebodies were perfectly balanced, designed for elegance inevery kind of clothing, moved with such effortless control.
Tally deliberately turned her eyes away from him. Inthe valley below, the orchids glowed with pale malevolencein the moonlight, a frozen sea against the dark shore of theforest.
David started talking first. “Did you know you’re thefirst runaway to come here all alone?”
UGLIES 245“Really?”
He nodded, still staring down at the white expanse offlowers. “Most of the time, I bring them in.”
Tally remembered Shay, the last night they’d seen eachother in the city, saying that the mysterious David wouldtake her to the Smoke. Back then Tally had hardly believedthere was such a person. Now, sitting next to her, Davidseemed very real. He took the world more seriously thanany other ugly she’d ever met—more seriously, in fact, thanmiddle pretties like her parents. In a funny way, his eyesheld the same intensity that the cruel pretties’ had, thoughwithout their coldness.
“My mother used to in the old days,” he said. “But nowshe’s too old.”
Tally swallowed. They always explained in schoolabout how uglies who didn’t have the operations eventuallybecame infirm. “Oh, I’m so sorry. How old is she, anyway?”
He laughed. “She’s plenty fit, but uglies have an easiertime trusting someone like me, someone their own age.”
“Oh, of course.” Tally remembered her reaction to theBoss that first day. Only a couple of weeks later she was muchmore used to all the different kinds of faces that age created.
“Sometimes, a few uglies will make it on their own, followingcoded directions like you did. But it’s always beenthree or four in a group. No one’s ever come all alone.”
“You must think I’m an idiot.”
“Not at all.” He took her hand. “I think it was really brave.”
246 Scott WesterfeldShe shrugged. “It wasn’t that bad a trip, really.”
“It’s not the traveling that takes courage, Tally. I’vedone much longer trips on my own. It’s leaving home.” Hetraced a line on her sore hand with a finger. “I can’t imaginehaving to walk away from the Smoke, away fromeverything I’ve ever known, realizing I’d probably nevercome back.”
Tally swallowed. It hadn’t been easy. Of course, shehadn’t really had a choice.
“But you left your city, the only place you’d ever lived,all alone,” David continued. “You hadn’t even met a Smokey,someone to convince you firsthand that it was a real place.
You did it all on trust, because your friend asked you. I guessthat’s why I feel I can trust you.”
Tally looked out at the weeds, feeling worse with everyword David said. If he only knew the real reason she wasthere.
“When Shay first told me you were coming, I was reallyangry at her.”
“Because I might have given the Smoke away?”
“Partly. And partly because it’s really dangerous for acity-bred sixteen-year-old to cross hundreds of miles alone.
But mostly I thought it was a wasted risk, because youprobably wouldn’t eve............