1269_UgliesFreeBook

310 Scott Westerfeld
Tally saw one nearby, Croy’s maybe, that had only been
unfolded once. Its light was green. One kick to close it and
the board would be ready to fly.
But Tally couldn’t fly with her hands bound. She’d fall
off on the first turn.
She took a deep breath, ignoring the part of her brain
that saw only the distance to the ground. As long as the
Special was as fast and strong as he seemed . . .
“I’m wearing a bungee jacket,” she lied to herself.
“Nothing can possibly happen.”
Tally let her bare feet trip, and tumbled down the slope.
The rough shingles battered Tally’s knees and elbows as she
rolled, letting out a cry of pain. She fought to stay on the roof,
her feet scrambling against the wood to slow herself down.
Just as she reached the edge, an iron grip fastened onto
her shoulder. She rolled off into space, the ground looming
below. But Tally jerked to a halt, her arm wrenching in its
socket, and she heard the Special’s razor voice curse.
She swung for a moment, her fall arrested, then they
both started to slip.
She could hear the Special’s fingers and feet scrabbling
for purchase. However strong he might be, there was nothing
for him to hold on to. Tally was going to fall.
But at least she was going to take him with her.
Then a grunt came from the Special, and Tally felt herself
being pulled up in a mighty heave. She was thrown
back onto the roof, and a shadow passed over her. Some-