thunder came from the sky, like a giant drum beatingfiercely and fast, forcing its way into her head and chest. itseemed to rattle the whole horizon, making the surface ofthe river shimmer with every thud.

tally crouched low in the water, sinking to her neckjust before the machine appeared.

it came from the direction of the mountains, flying lowand kicking up dust in a dozen separate windstorms in itswake. it was much bigger than a hovercar, and a hundredtimes louder. apparently without magnets, it beat the airinto submission with a half-invisible disk shimmering inthe sun.

when the machine reached the river, it banked into aturn. its passage churned the water, sending out circularwaves as if some huge stone were skimming across the surface.

tally saw people inside, looking down at her camp.

the unfolded hoverboard pitched in the windstorm, itsmagnets fighting to keep it on the ground. her knapsackdisappeared in the dust, and she saw clothing, the sleepingbag, and packets of spagbol scattering in the machine’swake.

tally sank lower into the frantic water, struck by thethought that she would be left here, naked and alone, withnothing. she was already half frozen.

but the machine dipped forward, just like a hoverboard,and moved on. it headed toward the sea, vanishingas quickly as it had appeared, leaving her ears poundingand the river’s surface boiling.

tally crept out shivering. her body felt ice cold, her fingersbarely able to clench into a fist. she made her way backto her camp, grasping clothes to her body, putting them onbefore the setting sun could dry her. she sat and wrappedher arms around herself until the shaking stopped, glancingfearfully at the red horizon every few seconds.

the damage was less than she’d feared. the hoverboard’soperation light was green, and her knapsack, dustybut unharmed. after a search for spagbol and a count of theremaining packets, tally found that she had lost only two.

but the sleeping bag was shredded. something hadchopped it to pieces.

tally swallowed. there was nothing left of the bag biggerthan a handkerchief. what if she had been in it whenthe machine had come?

she folded the hoverboard quickly and packed everythingaway. the board was ready to go almost instantly. atleast the strange machine’s windstorm had dried it off.

uglies 165“thanks a lot,” tally said as she stepped on, leaning forwardas the sun began to set. she was anxious to leave thecampsite behind her as quickly as possible, in case theycame back.

but who were they? the flying machine had been justlike what tally imagined when her teachers had describedrusty contraptions: a portable tornado crashing along,destroying everything in its path. tally had read about aircraftthat shattered windows as they flew past, armored warvehicles that could drive straight through a house.

but the rusties had been gone a long time. who wouldbe stupid enough to rebuild their insane machines?

tally rode into the growing darkness, her eyes peeledfor any signs of the next clue—“four days later take theside you despise”—and for whatever other surprises thenight would bring.

one thing was certain now: she wasn’t alone out here.

later that night, the river branched in two.

tally cruised to a halt, surveying the junction. one ofthe branches was clearly larger, the other more like a broadstream. a “tributary,” she remembered, was the name for asmall river that fed into a larger one.

probably she should just stay on the main river. butshe’d been traveling for just three days, and her hoverboardwas a lot faster than most. maybe it was time for thenext clue.

166 scott westerfeld“four days later take the side you despise,” tally muttered.

she peered at the two rivers in the light from the moon,which was almost full now. which river did she despise? orwhich one would shay think she despised? they bothlooked pretty ordinary to her. she squinted into the distance.

maybe one led toward something despicable thatwould be visible in daylight.

but waiting would mean losing a night’s travel, andsleeping in the cold and dark without a sleeping bag.

tally reminded herself that the clue might not beabout this junction. maybe she should just stay on the bigriver until something more obvious came up. why wouldshay call the two rivers “sides,” anyway? if she’d meantthis junction, wouldn’t it be “take the direction youdespise”?

“the side you despise,” tally mumbled, rememberingsomething.

her fingers went to her face. when she had showedshay her pretty morphos, tally had mentioned how shealways started by doubling her left side—that she hadalways hated the right side of her face. which was exactlythe sort of thing that shay would remember.

was this shay’s way of telling her to take a right?

branching to the right was the smaller river, the tributary.

the mountains were closer in that direction. maybeshe was drawing near the smoke.

she stared at the two rivers in the darkness, one big anduglies 167one small, and remembered shay saying that pretty symmetrywas silly, because she’d rather have a face with twodifferent sides.

tally hadn’t realized it at the time, but that had been animportant conversation for shay, the first time she hadtalked about wanting to stay ugly. if only tally had noticedat the time, maybe she could have talked shay out of runningaway. and they’d both be in a party tower right now,together and pretty.

“right it is.” tally sighed, and eased her board onto thesmaller river.

by the time the sun rose, tally knew she had made the rightchoice.

as the tributary climbed its way into the mountains,the fields around her filled with flowers. soon the brilliantwhite bonnets were as thick as grass, driving every othercolor from the landscape. in the dawn light, it was as if theearth were glowing from within.

“‘and look in the flowers for fire-bug eyes,’” tally saidto herself, wondering if she should get off the board. maybethere was some kind of bug with fiery eyes she should belooking for.

she drifted to shore and stepped off.

the flowers came right up to the edge of the water.

tally knelt to inspect one closely. the five long white petalscurved delicately up from the stem and around its mouth,168 scott westerfeldwhich contained just a hint of yellow deep inside. one ofthe petals below the mouth was longer, arching downalmost to the ground. motion caught her eye, and she spotteda small bird hovering among the flowers, flitting fromone to the next to alight on the longest petal, thrusting itsbeak into one after another.

“they’re so beautiful,” she said. and there were so manyof them. she wanted to lie down in the flowers and sleep.

but she couldn’t see anything that might be “fire-bugeyes.” tally stood, scanning the horizon. nothing met hergaze but hills, blinding white with flowers, and the glimmeringriver climbing up into the mountains. it all lookedso peaceful, a different world from the one that the flyingmachine had shattered last night.

she stepped back on the board and continued, slowernow as she looked carefully for whatever might fit shay’sclue, remembering to stick on a sunblock patch as the sunrose higher.

the river climbed higher into the hills. from up there, tallysaw bare stretches among the flowers, expanses of dry,sandy earth. the patchy landscape was a strange sight, likea beautiful painting that someone had taken sandpaper to.

she got off her board several times to inspect the flowers,looking for insects or anything else that might matchthe words “fire-bug eyes.” but as the day wore on, nothingmade sense.

uglies 169by the time noon approached the tributary was graduallygrowing smaller. sooner or later, she would reach itssource, a mountain spring or melting snowdrift, and thenshe’d have to walk. tired after the long night, she decidedto make camp.

her eyes scanned the sky, wondering if any more of therusty flying machines were around. the idea of anotherone crashing into her in her sleep terrified her. who knewwhat the people inside the thing wanted? if she hadn’t beenhidden in the water the night before, what would they havedone with her?

one thing was certain: the shiny solar cells of thehoverboard would be obvious from the air. tally checkedthe charge; more than half remained thanks to her slowspeed and the bright sun now overhead. she unfoldedthe hoverboard, but only halfway, and hid it among thetallest flowers she could find. then she hiked to the topof a nearby hill. from up there tally could keep her eyeon the hoverboard, and hear and see anything approachingfrom the air. she decided to repack her knapsackbefore she went to sleep, so she could bolt at a moment’snotice.

it was the best she could do.

after a mildly revolting packet of spagbol, tally curledup in a spot where the white flowers were tall enough tohide her. the breeze stirred their long stalks, and shadowsdanced on her closed eyelids.

170 scott westerfeldtally felt strangely exposed without her sleeping bag,lying there in her clothes, but the warm sun and the longnight’s travel put her quickly to sleep.

when she awoke, the world was on fire.