The idea had come to me in a dream.
I had been flying through the forest on my hoverboard, cutting through a mist like a hot knife through butter. The only sound to be heard was the sound of fireworks on the other side of the river, where Pretties partied and laughed and drank. I wanted to join them. In this dream, I had crossed the river on my hoverboard, wearing all black. A crowd of Pretties parted like the mist I had passed through, and they led me to Adrian. I knew what he looked like as a Pretty; tall, lean, his curly golden hair falling into bright blue eyes that were flecked with gold. His skin seemed to shimmer like his teeth as he smiled at me.
"Tabby," he said. I got off my hoverboard and walked forward to him. He gently touched my face, then moved aside. A silhouette approached me. She had long dark hair that billowed in a wind that I couldn't feel. Fireworks exploded above and the Safe Embers fell down to us, illuminating her face. She wasn't Pretty, but she was beautiful.
"Calanthia," I breathed.
My sister was alive. She smiled at me.
"You have to convince them that we need the operation sooner," she urged me, interlocking her fingers with Adrian's. "If I had gotten the operation when I was twelve, like I knew they could, then I wouldn't be dead."
"I know," I choked out. Embers fell around us, but this time, they burned.
"You need to talk to Adrian," she said. Adrian smiled at me again, and a rush was sent through me.
"Okay, Cally," I said. "I will. I promise."
Calanthia smiled at me, her smile as true as the meaning of her name, and suddenly she was disintegrating, falling away in the wind that I couldn't feel. Embers landed on me, burning my skin.
"You need to come find me," Adrian said. "You know that there's a party coming. You have to come talk to me. You need to distract the Wardens, and come talk to me. I can't remember that it's important. You need to remind me. And I'll remind everyone else."
"Why can't you remember?" I asked. The wind blew his hair out of his eyes, and suddenly, the sockets were empty.
"The operation," he said. "It's the operation, Tabby."
Embers landed in my eyes. And when I awoke, my eyes were burning.
I was crying.
(*)(*)(*)
"Thank you for informing us of this," a deep voice said, resonating in the young girl's chest. Her frizzy hair fell into her pale, empty eyes.
"Of course, Warden," she said, bowing, afraid to move. She wasn't sure what she had done was right, but she knew that something had to be done. Tabitha's plan was insane. She hadn't been right for a while. She needed to have some sense talked into her; this plan was bogus.
"We'll be in touch soon," the Warden said. "You're free to go."
"Thank you, sir," she said, stumbling over her words and feet as she hastily exited. She practically ran out of the room as the Warden turned. His Middle-Pretty face was no longer Pretty, displaying scars and cuts that he refused to Surge away. He let his age show through his wrinkles. He was stronger than most Middle-Pretties, all traces of the mind-restricting lesions gone, his senses sharper than the Committee for Morphological Standards would usually allow; but Aron Preyze was the Head Warden. Like the chief policeman from the Rusty Days, Aron had the responsibility of keeping the entire city in check. If it weren't for him, no rules would be developed. No restrictions would be in order. The existence of lesions might even be in danger; some radical Middle-Pretties believed that the lesions were unfair and that every Pretty deserved the ability to think. "Politics," Aron scoffed under his breath while taking a drink of his scotch. His assistant, Ophelia, glanced up at him from under her copper bangs, her bright blue eyes shining. She saw that Aron was milling over his scotch, peering into the depths of his glass as he usually did when there was a true problem that required, and she went back to studying Tabitha Cable's report.
"She's quite extraordinary," Ophelia said after a weighted pause.
"Extraordinary indeed," Aron said softly. "What is her motive, again?"
"Her sister died two months before she would've had the operation," Ophelia said, picking up Calanthia Cable's file. "She was very popular. Very much adored by the Uglies. Her boyfriend at the time, Adrian Just, wasn't the same until he received the operation and the lesions himself."
Aron scoffed and downed his scotch. "And some think that we need to get rid of the lesions. Ridiculous. They only heal."
Ophelia said nothing, refusing to voice her disagreement with the Head Warden, hiding the emotions on her younger Pretty face.
"What should we do?" Ophelia asked after another heavy pause.
"We," Aron said, standing and pulling on a pair of leather black gloves over his scarred hands, "are going to talk to Tabitha Cable. And we are going to make a deal with her. We need to see if she's really... Special."
Ophelia blinked. "You want to use Tabitha to…?"
"I think it's time," Aron said, tossing his jacket backwards and striding towards the door. "I think we need to talk to Miss Tabitha first. But I know that we can pass this." He turned his cold, stone gray eyes on Ophelia, whose shock was evident on her pale, Pretty face. Aron Preyze turned back around. "Oh, and make sure that you leave a little something for Miss Alyshia. She's been most helpful."
"Yes, sir," Ophelia said, dread blooming in the pit of her stomach like a poisonous flower. She glanced back down at the picture of the pretty Calanthia Cable, her eyes staring accusingly up at her from behind the red DECEASED stamp that slashed across her picture. She would've made a wonderful Pretty. Ophelia stood and walked with her heels clicking on the dark tiles to the Wall Minder.
"Contact Alyshia Huff, please," she said. The wall pinged at her, almost sadly.
