Uglies (The Uglies Book 1), page 1
CONTENTS
A Letter to Readers
Part I: Turning Pretty
New Pretty Town
Best Friends Forever
Shay
Wipe Out
Facing the Future
Pretty Boring
Rapids
The Rusty Ruins
Waiting for David
Fight
Last Trick
Operation
Special Circumstances
Ugly for Life
Peris
Infiltrator
Part II: The Smoke
Leaving
Spagbol
The Worst Mistake
The Side You Despise
Firestorm
Bug Eyes
Lies
The Model
Work
David
Heartthrob
Suspicion
Bravery
The Secret
Pretty Minds
Burning Bridges
Part III: Into the Fire
Invasion
The Rabbit Pen
In Case of Damage
Run
Amazing
Ruin
Maddy and Az
The Oil Plague
Familiar Sights
Accomplices
Over the Edge
Inside
Rescue
Getaway
Night Alone
Hippocratic Oath
Confessions
Down the River
‘Afterworlds’ Teaser
‘Zeroes’ Teaser
‘How David Got His Scar’ Short Story
About the Author
This novel was shaped by a series of e-mail exchanges between myself and Ted Chiang about his story “Liking What You See: A Documentary.” His input on the manuscript was also invaluable.
A Letter to Readers
Ten years ago I began to write about Tally Youngblood, a teenage girl defined by her shifting identities. Across the Uglies trilogy, Tally takes on the roles of vandal, outcast, government informer, runaway, prisoner, hedonist, enforcer, and full-throated revolutionary. Several times her memories are erased, her personality reprogrammed, and her face and body remade.
And yet the most common line in my fan mail is simply “I am Tally.”
It seems Uglies readers recognize themselves in this ever-changing character. They know what it’s like to switch sides, to try on new selves, to be a little schizophrenic. Of course, these are all perfectly sensible responses to being a teenager—pushing back against expectations and fixed identities on the way to finding yourself.
So this tenth-anniversary edition is dedicated to those of you who were Tally for a while. And to those who still are Tally in some way, refusing to be defined by your tribe, by the body you were born with, or even by the face you woke up with this morning.
Thanks for all the fan mail, and for staying true to the uncertainty of who you are.
—Scott Westerfeld
Part I
TURNING PRETTY
Is it not good to make society full of beautiful people?
—Yang Yuan, quoted in the New York Times
NEW PRETTY TOWN
The early summer sky was the color of cat vomit.
Of course, Tally thought, you’d have to feed your cat only salmon-flavored cat food for a while, to get the pinks right. The scudding clouds did look a bit fishy, rippled into scales by a high-altitude wind. As the light faded, deep blue gaps of night peered through like an upside-down ocean, bottomless and cold.
Any other summer, a sunset like this would have been beautiful. But nothing had been beautiful since Peris turned pretty. Losing your best friend sucks, even if it’s only for three months and two days.
• • •
Tally Youngblood was waiting for darkness.
She could see New Pretty Town through her open window. The party towers were already lit up, and snakes of burning torches marked flickering pathways through the pleasure gardens. A few hot-air balloons pulled at their tethers against the darkening pink sky, their passengers shooting safety fireworks at other balloons and passing parasailers. Laughter and music skipped across the water like rocks thrown with just the right spin, their edges just as sharp against Tally’s nerves.
Around the outskirts of the city, cut off from town by the black oval of the river, everything was in darkness. Everyone ugly was in bed by now.
Tally took off her interface ring and said, “Good night.”
“Sweet dreams, Tally,” said the room.
She chewed up a toothbrush pill, punched her pillows, and shoved an old portable heater—one that produced about as much warmth as a sleeping, Tally-size human being—under the covers.
Then she crawled out the window.
Outside, with the night finally turning coal black above her head, Tally instantly felt better. Maybe this was a stupid plan, but anything was better than another night awake in bed feeling sorry for herself. On the familiar leafy path down to the water’s edge, it was easy to imagine Peris stealing silently behind her, stifling laughter, ready for a night of spying on the new pretties. Together. She and Peris had figured out how to trick the house minder back when they were twelve, when the three-month difference in their ages seemed like it would never matter.
“Best friends for life,” Tally muttered, fingering the tiny scar on her right palm.
The water glistened through the trees, and she could hear the wavelets of a passing river skimmer’s wake slapping at the shore. She ducked, hiding in the reeds. Summer was always the best time for spying expeditions. The grass was high, it was never cold, and you didn’t have to stay awake through school the next day.
Of course, Peris could sleep as late as he wanted now. Just one of the advantages of being pretty.
The old bridge stretched massively across the water, its huge iron frame as black as the sky. It had been built so long ago that it held up its own weight, without any support from hoverstruts. A million years from now, when the rest of the city had crumbled, the bridge would probably remain like a fossilized bone.
Unlike the other bridges into New Pretty Town, the old bridge couldn’t talk—or report trespassers, more importantly. But even silent, the bridge had always seemed very wise to Tally, as quietly knowing as some ancient tree.
Her eyes were fully adjusted to the darkness now, and it took only seconds to find the fishing line tied to its usual rock. She yanked it, and heard the splash of the rope tumbling from where it had been hidden among the bridge supports. She kept pulling until the invisible fishing line turned into wet, knotted cord. The other end was still tied to the iron framework of the bridge. Tally pulled the rope taut and lashed it to the usual tree.
She had to duck into the grass once more as another river skimmer passed. The people dancing on its deck didn’t spot the rope stretched from bridge to shore. They never did. New pretties were always having too much fun to notice little things out of place.
When the skimmer’s lights had faded, Tally tested the rope with her whole weight. One time it had pulled loose from the tree, and both she and Peris had swung downward, then up and out over the middle of the river before falling off, tumbling into the cold water. She smiled at the memory, realizing she would rather be on that expedition—soaking wet in the cold with Peris—than dry and warm tonight, but alone.
Hanging upside down, hands and knees clutching the knots along the rope, Tally pulled herself up into the dark framework of the bridge, then stole through its iron skeleton and across to New Pretty Town.
• • •
She knew where Peris lived from the one message he had bothered to send since turning pretty. Peris hadn’t given an address, but Tally knew the trick for decoding the random-looking numbers at the bottom of a ping. They led to someplace called Garbo Mansion in the hilly part of town.
Getting there was going to be tricky. In their expeditions, Tally and Peris had always stuck to the waterfront, where vegetation and the dark backdrop of Uglyville made it easy to hide. But now Tally was headed into the center of the island, where floats and revelers populated the bright streets all night. Brand-new pretties like Peris always lived where the fun was most frantic.
Tally had memorized the map, but if she made one wrong turn, she was toast. Without her interface ring, she was invisible to vehicles. They’d just run her down like she was nothing.
Of course, Tally was nothing here.
Worse, she was ugly. But she hoped Peris wouldn’t see it that way. Wouldn’t see her that way.
Tally had no idea what would happen if she got caught. This wasn’t like being busted for “forgetting” her ring, skipping classes, or tricking the house into playing her music louder than allowed. Everyone did that kind of stuff, and everyone got busted for it. But she and Peris had always been very careful about not getting caught on these expeditions. Crossing the river was serious business.
It was too late to worry now, though. What could they do to her, anyway? In three months she’d be a pretty herself.
Tally crept along the river until she reached a pleasure garden, and slipped into the darkness beneath a row of weeping willows. Under their cover she made her way alongside a path lit by little guttering flames.
A pretty couple wandered down the path. Tally froze, but they were clueless, too busy staring into each other’s eyes to see her crouching in the darkness. Tally silently watched them pass, getting t
The two disappeared around the next bend, and Tally shook her head to clear the mushy thoughts away. She wasn’t here to gawk. She was an infiltrator, a sneak, an ugly. And she had a mission.
The garden stretched up into town, winding like a black river through the bright party towers and houses. After a few more minutes of creeping, she startled a couple hidden among the trees (it was a pleasure garden, after all), but in the darkness they couldn’t see her face, and only teased her as she mumbled an apology and slipped away. She hadn’t seen too much of them, either, just a tangle of perfect legs and arms.
Finally, the garden ended, a few blocks from where Peris lived.
Tally peered out from behind a curtain of hanging vines. This was farther than she and Peris had ever been together, and as far as her planning had taken her. There was no way to hide herself in the busy, well-lit streets. She put her fingers up to her face, felt the wide nose and thin lips, the too-high forehead and tangled mass of frizzy hair. One step out of the underbrush and she’d be spotted. Her face seemed to burn as the light touched it. What was she doing here? She should be back in the darkness of Uglyville, awaiting her turn.
But she had to see Peris, had to talk to him. She wasn’t quite sure why, exactly, except that she was sick of imagining a thousand conversations with him every night before she fell asleep. They’d spent every day together since they were littlies, and now . . . nothing. Maybe if they could just talk for a few minutes, her brain would stop talking to imaginary Peris. Three minutes might be enough to hold her for three months.
Tally looked up and down the street, checking for side yards to slink through, dark doorways to hide in. She felt like a rock climber facing a sheer cliff, searching for cracks and handholds.
The traffic began to clear a little, and she waited, rubbing the scar on her right palm. Finally, Tally sighed and whispered, “Best friends forever,” and took a step forward into the light.
An explosion of sound came from her right, and she leaped back into the darkness, stumbling among the vines, coming down hard on her knees in the soft earth, certain for a few seconds that she’d been caught.
But the cacophony organized itself into a throbbing rhythm. It was a drum machine making its lumbering way down the street. Wide as a house, it shimmered with the movement of its dozens of mechanical arms, bashing away at every size of drum. Behind it trailed a growing bunch of revelers, dancing along with the beat, drinking and throwing their empty bottles to shatter against the huge, impervious machine.
Tally smiled. The revelers were wearing masks.
The machine was lobbing the masks out the back, trying to coax more followers into the impromptu parade: devil faces and horrible clowns, green monsters and gray aliens with big oval eyes, cats and dogs and cows, faces with crooked smiles or huge noses.
The procession passed slowly, and Tally pulled herself back into the vegetation. A few of the revelers passed close enough that the sickly sweetness from their bottles filled her nose. A minute later, when the machine had trundled half a block farther, Tally jumped out and snatched up a discarded mask from the street. The plastic was soft in her hand, still warm from having been stamped into shape inside the machine a few seconds before.
Before she pressed it against her face, Tally realized that it was the same color as the cat-vomit pink of the sunset, with a long snout and two pink little ears. Smart adhesive flexed against her skin as the mask settled onto her face.
Tally pushed her way through the drunken dancers, out the other side of the procession, and ran down a side street toward Garbo Mansion, wearing the face of a pig.
BEST FRIENDS FOREVER
Garbo Mansion was fat, bright, and loud.
It filled the space between a pair of party towers, a squat teapot between two slender glasses of champagne. Each of the towers rested on a single column no wider than an elevator. Higher up they swelled to five stories of circular balconies, crowded with new pretties. Tally climbed the hill toward the trio of buildings, trying to take in the view through the eyeholes of her mask.
Someone jumped, or was thrown, from one of the towers, screaming and flailing his arms. Tally gulped, forcing herself to watch all the way down, until the guy was caught by his bungee jacket a few seconds before splatting. He hover-bounced in the harness a few times, laughing, before being deposited softly on the ground, close enough to Tally that she could hear nervous hiccups breaking up his giggles. He’d been as scared as Tally.
She shivered, though jumping was hardly any more dangerous than standing here beneath the looming towers. The bungee jacket used the same lifters as the hoverstruts that held the spindly structures up. If all the pretty toys somehow stopped working, just about everything in New Pretty Town would come tumbling down.
• • •
The mansion was full of brand-new pretties—the worst kind, Peris always used to say. They lived like uglies, a hundred or so together in a big dorm. But this dorm didn’t have any rules. Unless the rules were Act Stupid, Have Fun, and Make Noise.
A bunch of girls in ball gowns were on the roof, screaming at the top of their lungs, balancing on the edge and shooting safety fireworks at people on the ground. A ball of orange flame bounced next to Tally, cool as an autumn wind, driving away the darkness around her.
“Hey, there’s a pig down there!” someone screamed from above. They all laughed, and Tally quickened her stride toward the wide-open door of the mansion. She pushed inside, ignoring the surprised looks of two pretties on their way out.
It was all one big party, just like they always promised it would be. People were dressed up tonight, in gowns and in black suits with long coattails. Everyone seemed to find her pig mask pretty funny. They pointed and laughed, and Tally kept moving, not giving them time to do anything else. Of course, everyone was always laughing here. Unlike an ugly party, there’d never be any fights, or even arguments.
She pushed from room to room, trying to distinguish faces without being distracted by those big pretty eyes, or overwhelmed by the feeling that she didn’t belong. Tally felt uglier every second she spent there. Being laughed at by everyone she met wasn’t helping much. But it was better than what they’d do if they saw her real face.
Tally wondered if she would even recognize Peris. She’d only seen him once since the operation, and that was coming out of the hospital, before the swelling had subsided. But she knew his face so well. Despite what Peris always used to say, pretties didn’t really all look exactly the same. On their expeditions, she and Peris had sometimes spotted pretties who looked familiar, like uglies they’d known. Sort of like a brother or sister—an older, more confident, much prettier brother or sister. One you’d be jealous of your whole life, if you’d been born a hundred years ago.
Peris couldn’t have changed that much.
• • •
“Have you seen the piggy?”
“The what?”
“There’s a piggy on the loose!”
The giggling voices were from the floor below. Tally paused and listened. She was all alone here on the stairs. Apparently, pretties preferred the elevators.
“How dare she come to our party dressed like a piggy! This is white tie!”
“She’s got the wrong party.”
“She’s got no manners, looking that way!”
Tally swallowed. The mask wasn’t much better than her own face. The joke was wearing thin.
She bounded up the stairs, leaving the voices behind. Maybe they’d forget about her if she just kept moving. There were only two more floors of Garbo Mansion to go, and then the roof. Peris had to be here somewhere.
Unless he was out on the back lawn, or up in a balloon, or a party tower. Or in a pleasure garden somewhere, with someone. Tally shook away that last image and ran down the hall, ignoring the same jokes about her mask, risking glances into the rooms one by one.
Nothing but surprised looks and pointed fingers, and pretty faces. But none of them rang a bell. Peris wasn’t anywhere.
