Prodigy (Legend 2)

Day turns his stare back up at the ceiling at the mention of his family. His eyes stay dry, but when Tess reaches out and grabs his hand, he tightens his fingers around hers.

“The world outside of the Republic isn’t perfect, but freedoms and opportunities do exist out there, and all we need to do is let that light shine into the Republic itself. Our country is on the brink—all it needs now is a hand to tip it over.” He rises halfway off his chair and points at his chest. “We can be that hand. With a revolution, the Republic comes crashing down, and together with the Colonies we can take it and rebuild it into something great. It’ll be the United States again. People will live freely. Day, your little brother will grow up in a better place. That’s worth risking our lives for. That’s worth dying for. Isn’t it?”

I can tell Razor’s words are stirring something in Day, coaxing out a gleam in his eyes that takes me aback with its intensity. “Something worth dying for,” Day repeats.

I should be excited too. But somehow, still, the thought of the Republic crashing down sends a pulse of nausea through me. I don’t know if it’s brainwashing, years of Republic doctrine drilled into my brain. The feeling lingers, though, along with a flood of shame and self-hate.

Everything I am familiar with is gone.

THE MEDIC SHOWS UP IN A QUIET FLURRY SOMETIME after midnight. She preps me. Razor drags a table from the living room to one of the smaller bedrooms, where boxes of random supplies—food, nails, paper clips, canteens of water, you name it, they got it—are stacked in the corners. She and Kaede lay a sheet of thick plastic under the table. They strap me down to the table with a series of belts. The Medic carefully prepares her metal instruments. My leg lies exposed and bleeding. June stays by my side while they do all this, watching the Medic as if her supervision alone will ensure that the woman makes no mistakes. I wait impatiently. Every moment that passes brings us closer to finding Eden. Razor’s words stir me each time I think about them. Dunno—maybe I should’ve joined the Patriots years ago.

Tess bustles efficiently about the room as the Medic’s assistant, putting gloves on her hands after scrubbing up, handing her supplies, watching the process intently when there’s nothing for her to do. She manages to avoid June. I can tell by Tess’s expression that she’s nervous as hell, but she doesn’t utter a word about it. The two of us had chatted with each other pretty easily during dinner, when she’d sat on the couch beside me—but something has changed between us. I can’t quite put my finger on it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that Tess was into me. But it’s such a weird thought, I quickly push it away. Tess, who’s practically my sister, the little orphan girl from Nima sector?

Except she’s not just a little orphan girl anymore. Now I can see distinct signs of adulthood on her face: less baby fat, high cheekbones, eyes that don’t seem quite as enormous as I remember. I wonder why I never noticed these changes before. It only took a few weeks of separation to become obvious. I must be dense as a goddy brick, yeah?

“Breathe,” June says beside me. She sucks in a lungful of air as if to demonstrate how it’s done.

I stop puzzling over Tess and realize that I’ve been holding my breath. “Do you know how long it’ll take?” I ask June. She pats my hand soothingly at the tension in my tone, and I feel a pinch of guilt. If it wasn’t for me, she’d still be on her way to the Colonies right now.

“A few hours.” June pauses as Razor takes the Medic aside. Money exchanges hands—they shake on it. Tess helps the Medic put on a mask, then gives me a thumbs-up. June turns back to me.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d met the Elector before?” I whisper. “You always talked about him like he was a complete stranger.”

“He is a complete stranger,” June replies. She waits for a while, like she’s double-checking her words. “I just didn’t see the point in telling you—I don’t know him, and I don’t have any particular feelings toward him.”

I think back to our kiss in the bathroom. Then I picture the new Elector’s portrait and imagine an older June standing beside him as the future Princeps of the Senate. On the arm of the wealthiest man in the Republic. And what am I, some dirty street con with two Notes in his pocket, thinking I’ll actually be able to hang on to this girl after spending a few weeks with her? Besides, have I already forgotten that June once belonged to an elite family—that she was mingling with people like the young Elector at fancy dinner parties and banquets back when I was still hunting for food in Lake’s trash bins? And this is the first time I’ve pictured her with upper-class men? I suddenly feel so stupid for telling her that I love her, as if I’d be able to make her love me in return like some common girl from the streets. She didn’t say it back, anyway.

Why do I even care? It shouldn’t hurt this much. Should it? Don’t I have more important stuff to worry about?

The Medic walks over to me. June squeezes my hand; I’m reluctant to let go. She is from a different world, but she gave it all up for me. Sometimes I take this for granted, and then I wonder how I have the nerve to doubt her, when she’s so willing to put herself in danger for my sake. She could easily leave me behind. But she doesn’t. I chose this, she’d told me.

“Thanks,” I say to her. It’s all I can manage.

June studies me, then gives me a light kiss on the lips. “It’ll all be over before you know it, and then you’ll be able to scale buildings and run walls as fast as you ever did.” She lingers for a moment, then stands up and nods to the Medic and Tess. Then she’s gone.