At this distance, the hospital was invisible in the driving rain, but Tally spotted the running lights of a hovercar headed in that direction. It was moving fast and high, probably an ambulance taking someone in. Squinting against the barrage of freezing rain, she managed to keep her eyes on it, following its course. As the hovercar pulled out of sight, they reached the river, and the overweighted board began to lose lift over the open water.
Tally realized too late what was happening: The buried metal grid that magnetic lifters used to push against was lower here — in the ground under ten meters of water. As they neared the middle of the river, the board descended closer and closer to the cold and choppy surface.
Halfway across, the board struck water with a slap, Zane's hands bouncing off the river as if it was solid. But the hoverboard rebounded into the air, and as the far shore grew closer, the lifters gained purchase and carried them higher.
"Tally…," a croaking voice came from beneath her.
"It'll be okay, Zane. I've got you."
"Yeah. Feels very under control."
Tally dared a glance down at him. His eyes were open, his face no longer red. She realized that his chest rose and fell beneath her, his breathing normal. "Just relax, Zane. I'll stop when we're close to the hospital."
"Don't take me there."
"I'm just taking you closer. In case."
"In case what?" he said raggedly.
"In case you stop breathing again! Now shut up!"
He fell obediently silent, his eyes closing.
As the river's rain-spattered surface shot by underneath them, the lights of the hospital rose up, its dark bulk reassuringly close. Tally spotted the flashing yellow lights of the emergency bay, but pulled off the river before they reached it, climbing the bank slowly. She brought the board to rest in the shelter of a rack of empty ambulances, the hovercars stacked three high in their giant metal frame, apparently awaiting some major disaster.
When the board settled, Zane rolled off onto the wet ground with a groan.
She kneeled next to him. "Talk to me."
"I'm fine," he said. "Except my back."
"Your back? What …"
"I think it has to do with riding a hoverboard on it." He snorted. "And under you."
She took his face in her hands, staring into his pupils. He looked exhausted and bedraggled, but he smiled and winked at her tiredly.
"Zane …" She felt herself starting to cry again, tears running hot among the cold raindrops. "What's happening to you?"
"Like I said: I think we need some breakfast."
Sobs wracked her body. "But…"
"I know." He put his hands on her shoulders. "We have to get out of here."
"But what about the New Smo—" His hand shot up to cover her mouth, muffling her next words. She pulled away in surprise. Zane pushed himself up on one elbow, staring at her cuff, which was uncovered in the rain. She'd taken her glove off to make a call when his attack had started.
"Oh … I'm sorry."
He shook his head, pulling her closer and whispering, "It's okay."
Tally closed her eyes, trying to remember what they had said on the mad trip here. "We argued about taking you to the hospital," she whispered.
He nodded and stood shakily, saying aloud, "Well, since we're here." He turned and punched his fist against the metal of the ambulance rack. It rebounded with a dull ring.
"Zane!"
He doubled over with pain, then shook his head, waving his wounded hand in the air for a moment. He regarded the blood on the knuckles. "As I said, since we came all this way, I might as well get this looked at. But next time ask me, okay?"
She stared at him, finally understanding. For a moment, she'd thought Shay's insanity was contagious. But a wounded hand was a plausible reason for their wild ride here, and would square with most of what the cuff had heard. Tally could also tell the wardens that they hadn't eaten in a couple of days. Maybe a vitamin- and blood-sugar drip in Zane's arm would help his headache.
He still looked like crap, muddy and soaking wet, but he walked without any stagger. In fact, Zane seemed pretty bubbly after cracking his hand. Maybe Shay wasn't as insane as she looked — at least she knew what worked.
"Come on," he said.
"Want a ride?" Tally asked, pointing. The second hover-board was coasting toward them across the grass, having followed the signal in Zane's crash bracelets.
"I think I'll walk," he said, trudging toward the flashing lights of the emergency bay. Tally saw then that his hands shook, and how pale he was. And she resolved that the next time he had an attack, she was calling the wardens.
Even the cure wasn't worth dying for.
Hospital
It turned out that Zane's punch had broken three bones in his hand, which were going to take half an hour to fix.
Tally shared the waiting room with two brand-new pretties waiting for a friend with a broken leg — something about running down wet stairs outside Lillian Russell Mansion. She ignored the details of the story, scarfing down cookies and coffee with lots of milk and sugar, luxuriating in the hospital's warmth and total absence of pounding rain. The rare sensation of calories entering her body softened the world a little, but Tally was glad for a few moments of pretty haze. Her memories of what Shay and company were up to in Cleopatra Park were all too clear.
"So what happened to you?" one of the pretties finally asked, the emphasis on the last word indicating her soaked and muddy clothes, exhausted expression, and generally shaming appearance.
Tally shoved a chocolate-chip cookie into her mouth and shrugged. "Hoverboarding."
The other pretty elbowed her friend, widening her eyes and angling one nervous thumb at Tally.
"What?" he said.
"Shhh!"
"What?"
The second pretty sighed. "Sorry," she said to Tally. "My friend is brand new. And totally brain-missing." She explained to him in a whisper, "That's Tally Youngblood. "
The first one opened his mouth wide, then shut it.
Tally just smiled and stuffed another cookie into her face. Of course you'd run into Tally Youngblood in the emergency bay, they were thinking. Where else? They were probably wondering what piece of major architecture had crumbled under her this time.
Though her celebrity kept the two mercifully quiet, their furtive glances were unsettling. These two pretties weren't the type to become Cutters, Tally was fairly certain. But she couldn't escape the realization that her criminal notoriety was feeding Shay's little project, creating pretties hungry to explore a certain kind of bubbliness. Even full of coffee, milk, and cookies, Tally's stomach began to feel sour as she wondered if trips to the emergency bay were going to be the rage this winter.
"Tally?" An orderly stood by the waiting room door, beckoning her in. Finally. Tally was ready to get out of this place.
"Take care, kids," she said to the pretties, and followed the orderly down the hall.
When the door closed behind her, Tally realized that she hadn't been taken to the outpatient center. The orderly had brought her to a small room dominated by a huge, cluttered desk. A wallscreen showed a grassy field on a sunny day— the sort of visuals they showed in littlie school right before nap time.
"Been out in the rain?" the orderly said brightly, pulling off his powder blue paper robe. He was wearing a suit underneath — semiformal, her brain informed her — and Tally realized that he wasn't an orderly at all. He had the beaming smile favored by politicians, nursery teachers, and headshrinks.
She sat in the chair across from him, her damp clothes squelching. "You totally guessed it."
He smiled. "Well, accidents happen. You were wise to bring your friend in. And lucky me, being here when you did. The thing is, I've been trying to get in touch with you, Tally."
"You have?"
"Indeed." He smiled again. There was a species of middle pretty who smiled at everything: happy smile, disappointed smile, you're-in-trouble smile. His was
welcoming and enthusiastic, trustworthy and calm, and it set Tally's teeth on edge. He was the sort of middle pretty Dr. Cable had promised Tally she would become: smug and self-assured, his handsome face marked with just the right lines of laughter, age, and wisdom.
"You haven't been opening your mail the last couple of days, have you?" he said.
She shook her head. "Too many bogus pings. From being on the feeds, you know? Totally famous-making."
The words earned Tally a proud smile. "I suppose it's all been very exciting for you and your friends."
She shrugged, going for false modesty. "It was bubbly at first, but now it's getting bogus. So, who are you again?"
"Dr. Remmy Anders. I'm a trauma counselor here on the hospital staff."
"Trauma? Is this about the stadium thing? Because I'm totally—" "I'm sure you're fine, Tally. It's a friend of yours I've been wanting to ask you about. Frankly, we're a little worried."
"About who?"
"Shay."
Behind her pretty expression, a serious ping went through Tally. She tried to keep her voice steady. "Why Shay?"
Slowly, as if controlled by a remote, Dr. Anders's concerned smile bent into a frown. "There was a disturbance the other night at your little bonfire party. An argument between you and Shay. Quite troubling."
Tally blinked, stalling as she recalled Shay screaming at her by the fire. Even under all those layers, the cuff must have heard how upset Shay had been — way beyond the usual soft-spoken tiff between new pretties. Tally tried to recall exactly what Shay had shouted, but the combination of champagne and horrible guilt wasn't very memory-improving. She shrugged. "Yeah. She was pretty drunk. Me too."
"It didn't sound very happy-making."
"Dr. Remmy are you, like, spying on us? That's bogus."
The counselor shook his head and went back to the concerned smile. "We have had a particular interest in all of you who suffered that unfortunate accident. It can sometimes be difficult to recover from frightening and unexpected events. That's why I've been assigned as your post-stress counselor."
Tally pretended not to notice that he'd totally dodged the spying question — she already knew the answer, anyway. Special Circumstances might not care if the Crims knocked down New Pretty Town, but the wardens were always on the job. Given that the city was designed to keep people pretty-minded, it made sense that they would assign a counselor to anyone who'd had any serious bubbly-making experience. Dr. Anders was here to make sure that the breakthrough hadn't given the Crims any new and exciting ideas.
She summoned up a pretty smile. "In case we go crazy?"
Dr. Anders laughed. "Oh, we don't think you'll go crazy. I'm just here to make sure there aren't any long-term effects. Friendships can be negatively impacted by stress, you know."
She decided to throw Remmy a bone, and let her eyes widen. "So that's why she was being such a pain that night?"
He brightened. "Yes, it's all about stress, Tally. But remember, she probably didn't mean it."
"Well, I didn't go all crazy on her."
Reassuring smile. "Everyone reacts differently to trauma, Tally. Not everyone's as tough as you. Instead of getting angry, why don't we think of this as an opportunity to show Shay your support. You're old friends, aren't you?"
"Yeah. Since we were uglies. Same birthday."
"That's wonderful. Old friends are best at times like these. What was the fight about?"
Tally shrugged. "I don't know. Nothing, really."
"Can you remember at all?"
Tally wondered if this room was rigged to polygraph her, and if so, how big a lie she could get away with. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the calories moving through her half-starved body, letting a pretty haze settle over herself.
"Tally?" he prompted.
She decided to give Dr. Anders a little bit of the truth. "It was just…old stuff."
He nodded, folding his hands in satisfaction. Tally wondered if she'd said too much. "From ugly days?" he asked.
She shook her head, not trusting her voice.
"How have you and Shay been getting along since that night?"
"Just fine."
He smiled happily, but Tally caught him glancing away into the middle distance — probably at an eyescreen that was invisible to her. Was he checking the city interface? It would know that she and Shay hadn't pinged each other since the party and three whole days without any mail between them was pretty unusual. Or was Dr. Anders looking to see if her voice was wavering?
He gave his invisible data, or whatever it was, a small nod. "Has she seemed in better spirits to you since then?"
"She's okay, I guess." Just a little self-mutilation, crazy chanting, and maybe wanting to start her own very disturbing clique. "I haven't seen her since this bogus rain started coming down, actually. But me and her are best friends forever."
The last words came out wrong, Tally's voice sounding rough. She coughed a little, which was marked by a deepening of Dr. Anders's concerned smile. "I'm glad to hear that, Tally. And you're feeling all right as well, aren't you?"
"Bubbly," she said. "A little hungry, though."
"Yes, yes. You and Zane really must eat more. You're looking a bit thin, and I'm told his blood sugar was terribly low when he came in."
"I'll make sure he has some of those chocolate-chip cookies in the waiting room. They're awesome."
"A wonderful idea. You're a good friend, Tally." He stood, offering his hand. "Well, I see that Zane's all patched up, so I won't keep you. Thanks for your time, and make sure you let me know if you or any of your friends ever need to talk."
"Oh, I will," she said, giving the doctor her prettiest smile. "This has really been great."
Outside, the cold rain embraced Tally like an old and unavoidable friend, the discomfort almost a relief after Dr. Anders's radiant smiles. She told Zane about him on the way home. Although her cuff was bound up again, she spoke softly enough for the wind to tear her words away as they climbed into the gray sky.
He sighed when she was done. "Sounds like they're as worried about her as we are."
"Yeah. They must have heard our fight the other night. She was screaming at me in a very unpretty way."
"Perfect." His teeth were bared against the cold. It didn't look like the painkillers they'd given him for his hand were helping Zane's headache much. His feet shuffled on the board, finding their balance clumsily.
"I didn't say anything much. Just that she was drunk and acting up." Tally allowed herself a thin smile of self-congratulation. This one time, at least, she hadn't betrayed Shay. She hoped.
"Of course you didn't, Tally. Shay might need help, but not from some middle-pretty headshrink. What we have to do is get her out into the wild and give her the real cure. As soon as possible."
"Yeah. The pills are a lot better than cutting yourself." If they don't wind up giving you brain damage, she didn't add. Tally had decided not to tell Zane about her resolve to take him to the hospital the next time he had an attack; hopefully it wouldn't come to that. "So how were your doctors?"
"The usual. They spent the first hour lecturing me about eating more. When they finally got around to knitting my bones up, I was only unconscious about ten minutes. But other than being skinny, they didn't seem to notice anything weird about me."
"Good."
"Of course, that doesn't mean I'm fine. They didn't look at my head, after all, just my hand."
Tally took a deep breath. "Your headaches are getting worse, aren't they?"
"I think it was more hunger and cold than anything else."
She shook her head. "I haven't eaten anything today either, Zane, and you didn't see me—" "Forget about my head, Tally! I'm not any worse or any better. It's Shay's arms I'm worried about." He angled his board closer and lowered his voice. "They're going to be keeping an eye on her, too, now. If your Dr. Remmy gets a good look at what she's been doing to herself, all hell will break loose."
"Yeah. I can't arg
ue with that." Tally visualized the row of scars along Shay's arms. From a distance, she'd thought they were tattoos, but from close up, anyone would know what they were. If Dr. Anders saw them, Tally doubted very much that he would have a smile appropriate to the occasion. Alarms would go off all over the city, and the wardens' interest in everyone who'd been involved in the stadium disaster would go way off the scale.
Tally reached out and brought them to a stop, lowering her voice to just above a whisper. "We don't have much time, then. He could decide to talk to Shay any day now."
Zane took a deep breath. "You'll have to talk to Shay first. Tell her to lay off the cutting."
"Oh. Fun. What if she doesn't want to?"
"Tell her we're about to leave. Tell her well get her the real cure."
"Leave? How?"
"We just go — tonight, if we can. I'll pack up everything we need, you get the other Crims ready."
"What about these?" She was too exhausted to raise her swaddled wrist, but he took her meaning.
"We'll get them off. Tonight. There's a trick I've been saving."
"What trick, Zane?"
"I can't tell you yet. It'll work, though — it's just a little risky" Tally frowned. She and Zane had tried every tool they could think of, and nothing had so much as scratched the cuffs. "What is it?"
"I'll show you tonight," he said, his jaw tight.
Tally swallowed. "Must be more than a little risky." Zane stared at her, his face pale and half-starved, his eyes dull through the goggles. "Give the girl a hand." He chuckled. "Might need one."
Tally had to turn her eyes away from his smile.
Crusher
The shop shed wasn't far from the hospital, on the downstream end of New Pretty Town where the two arms of the river rejoined each other. This late at night, the lathes, imaging tables, and injection molds sat unused, the place almost empty. The only light came from the other end of the shed, where a middle pretty was blowing molten glass into shape.
"It's freezing in here," Tally said. She could see the words coiling from her mouth in the soft red glow of work lights. The rain had finally stopped while they were getting the Crims ready to run, but the air was still damp and chill. Even inside the shed, Tally, Fausto, and Zane were huddled in their winter coats.
Pretties u-2 Page 13