Uglies

"Look, we're not clear-cutting. All we're doing is pulling out the garbage that the Rusties left behind," David said. "It just takes a little surgery to do it."

"We could chop around the trees," Tally said. "Only cut into them where we need to. Like you said: surgery."

"Okay, fine." He chuckled. "Let's see what you think of these trees after you've had to hack a few out of the ground."

He was right.

The vibrasaw purred through heavy vines, parted tangled underbrush like a comb through wet hair, and sliced cleanly through metal when the odd misstroke brought the cutting edge down onto the track. But when its teeth met the gnarled roots and twisted branches of the scrub trees, it was a different story.

Tally grimaced as her saw bounced across the hard wood again, spitting bits of bark at her face, its low hum transformed into a protesting howl. She struggled to force the edge down into the tough old branch.

One more cut and this section of track would be clear.

"Going good. You almost got it, Tally."

She noticed that Croy stood well back, poised to jump if the saw somehow slipped from her hands. She could see now why David had wanted to chop the scrub trees into pieces.

It would have been a lot easier than reaching through the tangle of roots and branches, trying to bring the vibrasaw to bear against a precise spot.

"Stupid trees," Tally muttered, gritting her teeth as she plunged the blade down again.

Finally, the saw found purchase in the wood, letting out a high-pitched scream as it bit into the branch.

Then it slipped through, free for a second before it thrust, spitting and screeching, into the dirt below.

"Yeah!" Tally stepped back, lifting her goggles, the saw powering down in her hands.

Croy stepped forward and kicked the section of branch away from the track. "Perfect surgical slice, Doctor," he said.

"I think I'm getting the hang of this," Tally said, wiping her brow.

It was almost noon, and the sun was beating down into the clearing mercilessly. She pulled off her sweater, realizing that the morning chill was long gone. "You were right about the trees giving shade."

"You said it," Croy said. "Nice sweater, by the way."

She smiled. Along with her new gloves, it was her prized possession. "Thanks."

"What did it cost you?"

"Six SpagBols."

"A little pricey. Pretty, though." Croy caught her eye. "Tally, remember that first day you got here?

When I kind of grabbed your knapsack? I really wouldn't have taken your stuff. Not without giving you something for it. You just surprised me when you said I could have everything."

"Sure, no problem," she said. Now that she'd worked with Croy, he seemed like a nice enough guy.

She'd rather have been teamed up with David or Shay, but those two were cutting together today. And it was probably time she got to know some of the other Smokies better.

"And you got a new sleeping bag, too, I hope."

"Yeah. Twelve SpagBols."

"Must be almost out of trade."

She nodded. "Only eight left."

"Not bad. Still, I bet you didn't realize on your way here that you were eating your future wealth."

Tally laughed. They crouched under the partly cut tree, pulling handfuls of cut vines from around the track.

"If I'd known how valuable food packets were, I probably wouldn't have eaten so many, starving or not. I don't even like it anymore. The worst was SpagBol for breakfast."

"Sounds good to me." Croy chuckled. "This section look clear to you?"

"Sure. Let's start on the next one." She handed him the saw.

Croy did the easy part first, attacking the underbrush with the humming saw. "So, Tally, there's one thing that's kind of confusing."

"What's that?"

The saw glanced off metal, sending up a smattering of sparks.

"The first day you were here, you said you left the city with two weeks of food."

"Yeah."

"If it took you nine days to get here, you should only have had five days of food left.

Maybe fifteen packets altogether. But I remember on that first day, when I looked into your bag, I was, like, 'She's got tons!'" Tally swallowed, trying not to show any expression.

"And it turns out I was right. Twelve plus six plus eight is…twenty-six?"

"Yeah, I guess."

He nodded, working the saw carefully beneath a low branch. "I thought so. But you left the city before your birthday, right?"

Tally thought fast. "Sure. But I guess I didn't really eat three meals every day, Croy. Like I said, I was pretty sick of SpagBol after a while."

"Seems like you didn't eat much at all, for such a long trip."

Tally struggled to do the math in her head, to figure out what sort of numbers would add up. She remembered what Shay had said that first night: Some Smokies were suspicious of her, worried that she might be a spy. Tally had thought they all accepted her by now.

Apparently not.

She took a deep breath, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. "Look, Croy, let me tell you something. A secret."

"What's that?"

"I probably left the city with more than just two weeks' worth of food. I never really counted."

"But you kept saying-" "Yeah, I might have exaggerated a little, just to make the trip sound more interesting, you know? Like I could have run out of food when the rangers didn't turn up. But you're right, I always had plenty."

"Sure." He looked up at her, smiling gently. "I thought maybe so. Your trip did sound a little bit too…interesting to be true."

"But most of what I said was-" "Of course." The saw whined to a stop in his hand. "I'm sure most of it was. Question is, how much?"

Tally met his piercing eyes, struggling to think of what to say. It was nothing but a few extra food packets, hardly proof that she was a spy. She should just laugh it off. But the fact that he was dead right silenced her.

"You want the saw for a while?" he said mildly. "Clearing this up is hard work."

Since they were clearing brush, there was no load of metal to take back at midday, so the railroad crew had brought their lunch out with them: potato soup, and bread with salty olives dotted through it. Tally was glad when Shay took her lunch away from the rest of the group, to the edge of the dense forest. She followed, settling next to her friend in the dappled light. "I need to talk to you, Shay." Shay, not looking at her, sighed softly as she tore her bread into pieces. "Yeah, I guess you do."

"Oh. Did he talk to you, too?"

Shay shook her head. "He didn't have to say anything."

Tally frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean it's obvious. Ever since you got here. I should have seen it right away."

"I never-" Tally started, but her voice betrayed her. "What are you saying? You think Croy's right?"

Shay sighed. "I'm just saying that-" She stopped and turned to face Tally. "Croy? What about Croy?"

"He was talking to me before lunch, and he noticed my sweater and asked if I got a sleeping bag. And he figured that after nine days getting here I had too much SpagBol left."

"You had too much what?" Shay's expression was one of total confusion. "What on earth are you talking about?"