Chapter 10
Tally's bunkmates were twins named Bren and Torin, but everyone called them Whistle and Hiccup.
"Because of the way we snore," Whistle informed her with a gap-toothed grin. Tally grimaced.
"But don't worry," Hiccup interjected with a giggle. "I'm sure you'll get used to it."
"Maybe," the other amended, and both fell into hysterics.
"They've been here a while," another girl added in an undertone as she passed by. "But they're harmless, so don't worry." Tally grimaced again. If the anguish of isolation didn't kill her, then the potential psychosis of her bedmates would. She pulled her pillow over her head and groaned.
The twins had been named accurately and all night long, Tally stared at the bunk above her, wide awake, wanting to scream. Whistles chased hiccup after hiccup, then there would be a moment of silence and they would switch, hiccup, whistle, hiccup, whistle.
"Make it stop!" Tally hissed, longing for her own bed back at her dorm where it was silent.
To pass the time, Tally thought about all that had happened. Had it only been this morning that she had been sitting in the hospital waiting-room? It seemed like weeks ago. Fatigue and worry clouded the memory, yet the emotions were still bright and sharp in her mind, like layers of glass magnifying light. And the doctor. He had spoken to her only a few hours ago. She laughed bitterly at the thought of him and someone grunted in their sleep. Ninety-nine percent success rate, her ass. She looked around at all the people around her and did the math. There were at least a hundred people in this room and more than five thousand barracks (she had asked someone before bed). Over five hundred thousand people. The number boggled Tally's mind. It was over five percent of the world's population of ten million. Although five percent sounded small, it was well over the doctor's statistics, which, come to think of it, only included "minor" defects.
Minor defects. Tally imagined her own horrible face and couldn't possibly begin to conceive something less "minor." The thought made Tally sick and she hoped that one day she would be able to see that doctor again, an army of Super-Uglies behind her. For added fun, she armed her imaginary army with imaginary scalpels and toyed with the concept of giving the doctor a taste of his own medicine. She laughed aloud at her own joke, pleased with the mental image of the doctor getting his stupid Pretty face rearranged.
The twins' noises no longer bothering her, Tally sank into very unlady-like dreams involving the doctor, a naked-mole rat, and a facial transplant.