1269_UgliesFreeBook

UGLIES 197
screen, not even private workscreens. Just mismatched
desks and chairs and rows and rows of bookshelves.
Shay led her to the center of it all, where a round kiosk
was inhabited by a small figure talking on an old-fashioned
handphone. As they drew closer, Tally felt her heart starting
to pound. She’d been dreading what she was about to see.
The Boss was an old ugly. Tally had spotted a few from
a distance on the way in, but had managed to turn her eyes
away. But here was the wrinkled, veined, discolored, shuffling,
horrific truth, right before her eyes. His milky eyes
glared at them as he berated whoever was on the phone, in
a rattling voice and waving one claw at them to go away.
Shay giggled and pulled her toward the shelves. “He’ll
get to us eventually. There’s something I want to show
you first.”
“That poor man . . .”
“The Boss? Pretty wild, huh? He’s, like, forty! Wait until
you talk to him.”
Tally swallowed, trying to erase the image of his sagging
features from her mind. These people were insane to tolerate
that, to want it. “But his face . . . ,” Tally said.
“That’s nothing. Check these out.” Shay sat her down at
a table, turned to a shelf, and pulled out a handful of
volumes in protective covers. She plonked them in front
of Tally.
“Books on paper? What about them?”
“Not books. They’re called ‘magazines,’” Shay said. She