1269_UgliesFreeBook

222 Scott Westerfeld
weight. Everything seemed so heavy and . . . serious.
An older ugly was running the place, but he wasn’t as
scary as the Boss. He brought out woolen gear and a few silvery
sleeping bags. The blankets, scarves, and gloves were
beautiful, in subdued colors and simple patterns, but Shay
insisted that Tally get a city-made sleeping bag. “Much
lighter, and it squishes up small. Much better for when we
go exploring.”
“Of course,” Tally said, trying to smile. “That’ll be great.”
She wound up trading twelve packets of SpagBol for
another sleeping bag, and six for a handmade sweater,
which left her with eight. She couldn’t believe that the
sweater, brown with bands of pale red and green highlights,
cost half as much as the sleeping bag, which was threadbare
and patched.
“You’re just lucky you didn’t lose your water purifier,”
Shay said as they walked home. “Those things are impossible
to trade for.”
Tally’s eyes widened. “What happens if they break?”
“Well, they say you can drink water from the streams
without purifying it.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. A lot of the older Smokies do,” Shay said. “Even
if they’ve got a purifier, they don’t bother.”
“Yuck.”
Shay giggled. “Yeah, no kidding. But hey, you can
always use mine.”