Or I guess the better way to say it is, I'm you- Tally Youngblood. Same person. But if you're reading this letter, then we're also two different people. At least, that's what us New Smokies are guessing has happened by now. You've been changed. That's why I'm writing to you. I wonder if you remember writing these words. (Acutally, I'm telling Shay to write them. She did handwriting in school.) Do they seem like a diary entry from back when you were a littlie, or like someone else's diary altogether? If you can't remember writing this letter at all, then we're both in big trouble. Especially me. Because not being remembered by myself would mean that the me who wrote this letter has been erased somehow. Ouch. And maybe that mean I'm dead, sort of. So please try to remember, at least. But, anyway, here's what I'm trying to tell you: They did something to your brain- our brain- and that's why this letter may seem kind of weird to you. We (that's "we" as in us out in New Smoke, not "we" as in you and me) don't know exactly how it works, but we're pretty sure that something happens to everyone who has the operation. When they make you pretty, they also add these lesions (tiny scars, sort of) to your brain. It makes you different, and not in a good way. Look in the mirror, Tally. If you're pretty, you've got them. The good news is, there's a cure. That's why David came and got you, to give you the pills that will fix your brain. (I really hope you remember David.) He's a good guy, even if he had to kidnap you to get you here. Trust him. It might be scary to be out here, away from the city, wherever the New Smokies are hiding you, but the people who gave you the lesions will be looking, and you have to be kept safe until you're cured.
One more thing- Maddy (David's mom, who came up with the cure) says I have to add this, something about "informed consent":
I, Tally Youngblood, herby give my permission for Maddy and David to give me the pills that cure being pretty-minded. I realize this is a test on an unproven drug, and it all might go horribly wrong. Brain-dead wrong.
Um, sorry about the last part. That's the risk we have to take. That's why I gave myself up to become pretty, so we could test the pills and save Shay and Peris and everyone else in the world who's had their brain messed with. So take them. For me. Sorry in advance if you don't want to, and David and Maddy force you to. You'll be better off, I promise. Good luck.