Prodigy

people below our window, oblivious to the snow-packed ground. All of their eyes are turned up to me. Many of them hold up homemade signs.
Welcome to our side!
one says.
    The Phantom Lives,
says another.
    Take Down the Republic,
says a third. There are dozens of them.
Day: Our Honorary Colonian! Welcome to Tribune, Day! Our home is your home!
    They know who I am.
    Now the soldier points at me and smiles for the crowd. “This is Day,” she shouts.
    Another eruption of cheers. I stay frozen where I am. What’re you supposed to do when a bunch of people are yelling your name like they’re completely cracked? I have no goddy clue. So I raise my hand and wave, which brings their shrieks to a higher pitch.
    “You’re a celebrity here,” the soldier says to me over the noise. She seems to be much more interested in this than I am. “The one rebel the Republic can’t seem to get their hands on. Trust me, you’ll be plastered all over the tabs by morning. Evergreen Ent is going to be dying to interview you.”
    She keeps talking, but I’m not paying attention to her anymore. One of the people holding up signs has caught my attention. It’s a girl with a scarf wrapped around her mouth and a hoodie covering part of her face.
    But I can tell it’s Kaede.
    My head feels light. Instantly I think back on the blinking red alarm down in the bunker, warning June and me of someone approaching the hideout. I recall the person I thought had been following us down the Colonies’ streets.
Was it Kaede?
Does that mean that other Patriots are here too? She’s holding up a sign that’s almost lost in the sea of others.
    The sign says:
You have to go back. Now.

I ’M DREAMING AGAIN. I ’M SURE OF IT BECAUSE M ETIAS is here, and I know he’s supposed to be dead. This time I’m ready for it, and I keep a tight rein on my emotions.
    Metias and I are walking in the streets of Pierra. All around us, Republic soldiers run around rubble and explosions, but to the two of us, everything seems quiet and slow, like we’re watching a movie in extreme slow motion. Showers of dirt and shrapnel from grenades bounce harmlessly off of us. I feel invincible, or invisible. One or the other, maybe both.
    “Something’s just not right here,” I say to my brother. My eyes go up to the roofs, then back down to the chaotic streets. Where is Anden?
    Metias gives me a thoughtful frown. He walks with his hands behind his back, graceful as any captain ought to be, and the gold tassels on his uniform clink softly together as he goes. “I can tell this scene is bothering you,” he replies, scratching at the faint scruff on his chin. Unlike Thomas, he’d always been a bit lax about the military’s grooming rules. “Talk to me.”
    “This scene,” I say, pointing around us. “This whole plan. Something’s off.”
    Metias steps over a pile of concrete rubble. “What’s off?”
    “Him.” I point up to the roof. For some reason, Razor is standing there in plain sight, watching everything happen. His arms are crossed. “Something’s not right about
him.
”
    “Well, Junebug, reason it out,” Metias says.
    I count off on my fingers. “When I got into the jeep behind the Elector’s, the drivers’ instructions were clear. The Elector told them to take me to the hospital.”
    “And then?”
    “And then Razor ordered the drivers to take the assassination route anyway. He completely ignored the Elector’s command. He must’ve told Anden that
I
insisted on the assassination route. It’s the only way Anden would’ve gone with it.”
    Metias shrugs. “What does it mean? That Razor simply wanted to force the assassination through?”
    “No. If the assassination happened, everyone would know who ignored the Elector’s order. Everyone would know that Razor was the one who ordered the jeeps forward.” I grab Metias’s arm. “The Republic would
know
that Razor tried to kill Anden.”
    Metias tightens his lips. “Why would Razor put himself in such obvious danger? What else was strange?”
    I turn back to the street’s slow-moving chaos. “Well, right from the beginning, he was able to bring Patriots into his Vegas officer quarters so easily. He got his Patriots on and off that airship as if it were nothing. It’s like he has superhuman abilities to hide out.”
    “Maybe he does,” Metias says. “After all, he has the Colonies sponsoring him, doesn’t he?”
    “That’s true.” I run a hand through my hair in frustration. In